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devilrainbunnie · 4 years ago

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.- anthurium -.

X/2/3

shigaraki x reader

a/n: kind of an au, first piece! hope you guys like, i was feeling angsty. part two maybe?

CW: anxiety warning, cheating, manipulation, reader is depressed, sexual themes and description of sexual themes. minors DNI.

—

“for the millionth time, nothing is going on!” he snapped, rolling his eyes as he shuffled in his chair. fingers carefully laced around the hand held device. the vermillion eyes were full of fire, a fire that burned in agitation. towards you. he dared not to look into yours, for that would be almost like he was admitting to the accusations.

“then why do you smell like perfume that isn’t mine? why are you gone hours at a time without ever going to a meeting? why can’t you even do as little as look at me? why do you—“ your voice began to shake, feeling your fingers tremble with the hem of your shirt.

“you’re being paranoid, quit projecting your fucking insecurities on to me y/n. this conversation is over, now fuck off and let me relax.” he snarled, shifting his body away from your stance. he continued to play on his device, paying no mind to the girl with a river of tears pouring from her eyes.

you knew how it would end, and it always consisted of him leaving for the rest of the day. coming home the next morning, sometimes not even bothering to shower. you weren’t stupid. you could see the love bites on his scarred neck, his swollen lips, the way his sea foam colored locks were in a tangled bunch, he reeked of expensive perfume... you’d even found hair strands that weren’t either of yours. you knew, he knew that you knew, but he didn’t care that you knew.

it’s been going on since tomura was declared leader, king of this new group— the paranormal liberation front. since then, he’s put himself on such a high pedestal and his eyes began to wander. it wasn’t too noticeable at first, you thought you were just being insecure. because your boyfriend of over a year was beginning to spend less and less time with you. for the first time since you both got intimate, he stopped sleeping with you in your shared bed regularly. his often touch starved nature of wanting to be held and hold you constantly, began to stop. after a while, he wouldn’t so much as ruffle your hair anymore, or touch your back as he walked past. he stopped smiling at you.

he stopped loving you.

you noticed a specific girl with him from time to time, she was so different from you. outwardly sexy, confident, and most of all, she had him. she had beautiful emerald eyes, and dashing natural red hair. her figure was unbeatable. someone who would’ve been regularly out of his league, just due to her status, and often snobby nature. deep down, you knew that’s probably why he felt so enticed. she was unattainable. just like you had been to him once. he was always one to strive for the best, you guessed that meant lovers too.

you almost felt bad for him, considering the knowledge you had about her... she did this a lot. fucked around with higher ups as a way to gain better status, be placed in a higher rank, and get special privileges bother plf members wouldn’t originally receive. you’d heard this from dabi, she apparently tried to do the same thing to him, but he said, he “had better standards than that”.

you chuckled at dabi’s comment, you were the only one in the league he treated like a genuine friend. thankfully he could always make you crack a smile or two.

then like usual, the sadness came back.

there you were, alone in your shared apartment inside of the plf building. you sat at the edge of the windowsill in the living room, the lights were off. nothing but the distance sound of owls, wind, and branches to be heard. the moons glow to illuminate the scenery just a touch. your e/c eyes red, and glistened with the aftermath of an overbearing storm of a meltdown. your cheeks still burning, lips chapped and your hands doing anything else but standing still. since it got bad a few weeks ago with him, this is all you’ve been able to do. cry. let out your loud sobs all day, and whenever tomura was due to return, you’d go back to the way he preferred you. quiet, distant, and minding your business.

even with your quirk, your depression had led to all of the plants in each room to wilt. it’s almost poetic how accurate that displayed to your feelings— and of course, tomura didn’t even notice them.

anytime you did anything, it agitated him. there was no use in speaking, unless he was the one to initiate it. asking you what you made him for dinner, asking if you’ve seen a certain item of his, or asking you to do something for him, like stitch his tethered hoodie. sometimes telling you that he was annoyed with you being around dabi.

you began to nibble on your bottom lip again, trying to stop the fresh new wave of tears that threatened to spill. you promised yourself to not cry anymore, stop it. you stood from your spot, adjusting the simple outfit you wore. just usual long sleeve and leggings. using your sleeves to dry your face from the evidence of your overwhelming sadness. deciding that you should just take a shower, get ready for bed, and sleep. what else was there to do anyhow?

you soon felt refreshed, your heart still aches but the overwhelming pain subsided. you rested your head against the familiar scented cotton pillow case and grabbed his pillow. holding it close to your chest.

this is all i really have left of him now... wow.

—

the next day was seemingly uneventful. with a rare spotting of tomura coming in, showering, getting dressed, eating, and leaving once again. he paid you no mind the entire time. just simply glazing over your figure as you sat in different spots within the hour or two he was there. there were no words to he spoken. he didn’t even greet you when coming in. he just walked in the bedroom, rummaged around. looked at you as you were just waking up, and went about his business.

the pain settled in even more. every day it hit harder, and harder, but today, you were numb. the tears you held were all gone. you couldn’t cry, you couldn’t aimlessly sob. nothing. the core of you was empty.

“how much longer can i take of this...” you whispered to yourself tucking your knees to your chest. arms protectively wrapped around yourself.

you looked over to the once beautiful anthurium, it was completely wilted. the vibrant red petals were beginning to fall off. that plant was the one you connected the most with, it had a piece of your soul with it at this point. it would’ve been an easy fix to keep it from dying. one touch, and it would be right back to normal.

would the flower remember it’s neglect? the times you slacked on giving it water and proper daylight? would it simply forgive so easily just by your touch? can you forgive him, just by his touch?

“i don’t know.”

—

days had passed, he hadn’t come by since that night to your knowledge. sometimes you stepped out for a bit, just to clear your mind. you began to grow anxious, something was wrong. definitely wrong. you needed to know, to have some closure. every minute that passed seemed to crush you, it felt as if the world was ending.

against your better judgement, you got dressed. fixed your hair, and shakily tried to calm yourself down as you looked in the mirror. overanalyzing every single detail about your appearance, you looked like hell.

you were planning to go searching for tomura around the building. maybe even ask dabi if he had seen him. you stepped into your converse, taking deep breaths as you prepared yourself to find whatever might lie ahead. the feeling in your stomach didn’t stop churning.

one touch can’t fix it.

he won’t fix it.

he doesn’t want you.

you hugged the jacket tighter to your frame, feeling clammy and weak in the knees as you began to search around. he wasn’t anywhere you were looking, you checked everywhere you usually found him. you came across dabi before stepping into the elevator. he seemed concerned, he grabbed your shoulder before you walked away.

“y/n?” he quietly asked. his tone laced with anxiety.

“o-oh, hey.” your trembling form turned to face him. “long time no see.”

“what the fuck is going on?”

“it’s nothing, don’t worry about it—“

“don’t lie to me.” he cut you off, his voice laced with venom. he was always like a big brother figure to you, always protective and so easy to catch on. “what’s going on y/n? do i have to kill that creepy little fucking gremlin?” he snarled.

“n-no! no! it’s fine, really. i’m just uh, trying to find him that’s all.” you said sincerely. your voice wavering the entire way, stepping away from his hold on you.

“y/n don’t walk away from me, talk to me about this. you look like shit.” he called after you.

“i’m sorry.” you said in a voice so small he barely was able to grasp it. dabi just stared at you with disbelief, and anger.

—

then came the room you dreaded most. subconsciously you wanted to search it last, due to fear of what you might see.

you knew he was cheating, but you were in denial until you could see it.

you were about to give up and go back to your room before you heard a specific sound. coming from the office tomura used most often, but wasn’t always in. the way the table sounded against the wall and hardwood of the floors made your body tense, the breathless panting, the high pitched moaning... and worst of all, the sound of tomura groaning in pleasure. did your ears deceive you? bile threatened to shoot from your stomach. you eased open the office door, to a sight you wish you never saw. there was tomura, thrusting into the girl you feared and envied most. he was lost in lust, suckling, kissing, and grabbing every part of her flesh that was visible. like he used to do to you.

used to.

you stood there in horror, feeling like everything was crumbling before you. he didn’t even notice your peering eyes staring right into the depths of his soul, and hers. his groans got louder, he muttered something he hadn’t told you in such a long time. it made you want to scream so loud that your lungs bled.

“f-fuck, i— love you.”

you shakily slammed the door behind you. hard, and heavy breaths struggling to be let out, as you ran to the elevator. smashing the buttons to go back to your room. tears streaming down your face once again, you let out hushed cries, trying to regain your composure. as you ran to your room. it happened all in a daze, you loudly cried as you packed some of your things into a backpack, hating that things still smelled like him. you sobbed finding old polaroids if each other. deciding to throw the stack at the wall above the bed.

once you had everything ready, you realized something. you were still wearing a necklace he gave you a bit ago. it was a small anthurium made of ruby. you held the delicate item in your hands, debating what to do with it. the burden of owning it haunting you much more than letting it go, so that’s what you did. you placed the necklace on the counter. grabbing the notepad that was usually on the counter as well to write a quick note on top for him to find. your eyes flooded over the room, drinking it in as much as you could before leaving. all of the memories, decorating it with tomura, having sex for the first time on the bed, the first time he came home like he often did now... you felt a sob threatening to release again as you recounted the memory.

lastly you dropped the key next to the necklace, never to be seen again.

you exited the building with little hassle, tears still free falling across your face like usual. the hood of your jacket was up to conceal yourself, you wanted to leave without a trace. luckily it was late enough to do so, the only person who spotted you was spinner. for some reason he was alone by himself outside. he seemed concerned about your disheveled and unfamiliar appearance. but he didn’t utter a word to you, letting you walk out before him. you wondered what he thought of your pathetic sobbing form pacing out of the entrance.

you barely had a plan, a place to go for that matter. all that mattered now, was you.

you need to let go.

he can’t fix it this time.

don’t let him fix it this time, y/n.

>>>

tomura arrived to the apartment hours after you had left, he wasn’t expecting anything but a nice hot shower and a warm bed to sleep in. his body was sore from the steamy evening he spent with the red head. she really rocked his shit, he chuckled at the thought of her.

he didn’t bother to look around the main room, before heading straight into the bedroom. the light was on, which wasn’t that unusual. what was unusual though, was the mess around the room. the closets were wide open, pieces of film thrown all over the bed, and floor. at first he was mad, barging into the bathroom to yell at you. flipping on the light, to see nothing. you weren’t in the bathroom, or bedroom.

“y/n why did you leave everything such a mess? why did you throw pictures everywhere? what the fuck is going on?!” he called out to you. annoyed. like usual. he walked out of the bedroom, noticing finally, you weren’t here. “y/n.” he spoke sternly.

he walked cautiously around the space, looming over every detail, not able to make out your form anywhere. he remained calm but he was a bit worried, you were acting super unstable lately. though he’d never let you know that. he seemingly searched everywhere in depth, before he noticed some items on top of the island counter. switching on the light switch to get a better look. his heart sunk.

the necklace he gave you.

the beautiful ruby anthurium he gave you.

the one you wore every day since.

the one he gave to you as a promise to his love, the love he promised to be undying.

“fuck...”

along with the key to the apartment.

the one you both shared.

he noticed the note, it was written in your handwriting.

‘i hope you love her as honestly as you once loved me. i left everything behind i never want to see again. i won’t be ratting you out and i won’t be returning to you.

good bye, thanks for the memories.

y/n.’

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #bnha x reader #bnha au #shigaraki angst #mha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki fanfiction #angst #i’m sad now #pls lmk if you guys want part two #ahhh

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pinkoptics · 4 years ago

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Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

#cherik #cherik fan fic #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #fallen angel fic

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swan-of-sunrise · 4 years ago

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Spellbinding (Chapter Fifteen)

Summary: (Y/N)’s first solo mission as the Cosmic Sorceress takes an unexpected turn, and she begins to notice some worrying developments with her magic.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen January 2nd, 2016 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“I’m really sorry about your nose, Sam…I-I could try healing it for you? I’m not very good at it, but I might be able to stop the bleeding just a little…”

Although partially obscured by a handful of blood-soaked tissues, (Y/N) could just make out a glimmer of amusement in the man’s dark brown eyes as he shook his head. “Nope, I’m good, I think I prefer the old-fashioned way of fixin’ broken noses. And stop apologizin’ so much, (Y/L/N), you landed that punch fair and square!”

“Birdbrain’s right, (Y/N), he walked right into it.” Natasha smirked and handed Sam another tissue. “You two should know that I had to kick Barnes out of the training room ‘cause he was laughing so hard.” Sam ambled away towards the restroom, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath as he went. “Your hand-to-hand combat has definitely improved over the past two months; tomorrow, I’ll get Steve or Thor to spar with you so we can really see how far you’ve come.”

“Mm-hmm.” (Y/N) had only been half-listening, as her attention was focused on her bandage-wrapped right hand; she could still recall the rush of fury swirling inside of her after ducking Sam’s attack and the unmistakable feeling of satisfaction when the tell-tale sound of a nose breaking filled the training room. Replaying the incident in her mind caused (Y/N)’s stomach to churn uncomfortably; she’d never been entirely comfortable with violence yet she understood that its necessity came with being an Avenger, but what she’d felt earlier had been something else entirely. It reminded her all too much of the frequent nightmares she’d been having about her parents and the destruction they’d caused in their lifetime, and that realization shook her to the core.

“You okay?” Natasha’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “That was a pretty hard punch, are you sure your hand’s not hurt? We could get Bruce to-”

“I’m fine, Nat, it’s only a little sore; I’ll be sure to ice it later.” (Y/N) gave her a quick smile and began unwrapping the bandages from her hands. “So, have you gotten a chance to begin listening to Good Omens yet?”

That seemed to do the trick. Unbeknownst to most of the team, Natasha Romanoff was secretly turning into quite the bookworm and would regularly consult (Y/N) for reading recommendations; she preferred to listen to audio books as opposed to reading print, which was why their teammates were unaware of her new passion, and she’d even taken to listening to them while she trained. (Y/N) had quickly learned that books were currently the only thing that could distract the usually observant spy, and this time she was not disappointed. “Yeah, I’ve gotten through the first three chapters already and I really like it so far. I-”

“Miss (Y/L/N),” The robotic voice of J.A.R.V.I.S. filled the training room. “You have been assigned to a mission by Director Fury.”

“What’s the mission, J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“The apprehension of one Antoine Garmiena, a known Hydra enforcer. Our agents have tracked his whereabouts to a hotel in Vancouver, Canada and Director Fury has assigned only you the task of arresting him. The Quinjet will depart in one hour and when you land, you will be met by a CIA task force. Do you accept the mission?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, I do. Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.” Turning back to Natasha, she gave her friend a smile. “Well, I’d better go and get ready. Thank you for such a…productive training session, and I’ll see you later!”

After stopping by her room to take a quick shower and change into her uniform, (Y/N) boarded the Quinjet by herself and was on route to Canada; from her seat near the back of the jet, she was finally able to absorb the fact that this was her first solo mission as an Avenger. To her surprise, the thought of apprehending Garmiena alone didn’t fill her with anxiety; if anything, she was glad for the opportunity to do something on her own after working with the others for so long. If Director Fury and Steve think I’m up to this than I know that I am, she thought with a smile as she continued flicking through the file on Garmiena that Director Fury had given her.

The buzzing of her phone on the seat beside her broke her concentration but when she caught sight of the caller I.D. that popped up, she immediately set the file down to answer it. “Hey, you. Isn’t it almost midnight in Oslo right now?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but since Barton has insisted on watching television all night I figured that calling you would be the best alternative to committing homicide.”

Through her phone’s speaker, (Y/N) heard Clint’s faint retort and couldn’t help but smile through her light scolding. “Loki, that’s no way to start a new year off.”

“That’s easy for you to say, (Y/N), you haven’t had to endure an entire evening of so-called ‘reality television.’ I swear by the Norns, if I hear one more obscenely wealthy housewife complain about something idiotically trivial…”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you called me because I was about to call and tell you I’ve been assigned a mission. I just left for Vancouver and should be back later tonight…and Fury only assigned me to this one.”

“Your first solo mission, then! Congratulations, darling, you’re going to do wonderfully!”

“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll try to call you once the mission’s complete but I might be stuck in a meeting based on how well I do. And no pranking Clint while you two are on your mission, all right?”

“Fine, but if he continues to annoy me I’ll be forced to retaliate once we return.”

After wishing each other luck and exchanging their love, (Y/N) ended the call and set her phone down; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to help focus her magic. Through trial and error, she and Loki had discovered that Midgardian meditation practices helped with controlling and centering her magic before missions. Object and intent, she silently chanted, object and intent; the palms of her hands tingled with familiar energy and she peeked through her eyelashes just as her vivid purple magic began to swirl around her hands. Closing her eyes again, she took another deep breath and exhaled as the all-too familiar tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach intensified; the air around her was practically humming with energy and as she worked to control it, she could almost feel-

“We will be landing shortly, Miss (Y/L/N).” J.A.R.V.I.S. announced; startled, (Y/N)’s eyes flew open and the moment her concentration faltered, she suddenly dropped back down into her seat and winced in pain. “I’m terribly sorry, but I could find no other way of informing you of the Quinjet’s status.”

“That’s okay, J.A.R.V.I.S., I didn’t even realize that I’d been…that I’d been levitating.” She carefully got to her feet and adjusted her long black and purple leather coat before fastening her sword to her belt, feeling a little unnerved by her meditation session. “Is the CIA task force prepped and waiting?”

“Yes, Agent Ross just arrived at the helipad and is awaiting your arrival.”

(Y/N) thanked the Artificial Intelligence and continued to ready herself for the mission; she double-checked that her comm link was operational and pressed the button on her glasses to mask their presence, finishing up her tasks just as the Quinjet began its descent. Once it landed smoothly on the helipad, the ramp automatically lowered and she walked out into the frosty air.

“Just once, I’d like it if these Hydra thugs would pick someplace warmer to hide out in. Tahiti would be a nice change of pace, or maybe even Fiji.” Agent Ross quipped, his teeth chattering slightly as he withdrew a gloved hand from his CIA parka’s pocket to shake hers. “It’s good to see you again; I’m glad Fury assigned you to this one ‘cause we’re gonna need more brain and less brawn to finally apprehend this slippery guy.”

Smiling, (Y/N) walked alongside the CIA agent as they entered the warmth-filled building and made their way down a long stretch of hallway. “It’s good to see you too, Agent Ross. How long has Garmiena evaded arrest so far?”

“Over one and a half years, since right before the launching of Project Insight. He was on the CIA’s radar before he was outed as a Hydra operative but since the fall of the original S.H.I.E.L.D., he’s been on the run and almost impossible to track.”

Before she could ask another question, they were escorted into a room by an armed CIA agent and came face-to-face with a group of agents seated around a table. Clad in their tactical gear, the agents perked up when they recognized who she was and began whispering to one another, much to her embarrassment. It had been difficult for her to grow used to being in the public eye, but (Y/N) had finally reached a point in her Avenger career where being recognized in public only made her feel slightly bashful and not on the verge of a full-on panic attack.

As if sensing her discomfort, Agent Ross stepped forward and cleared his throat to grab their attention. “As you’ve already noticed, the Cosmic Sorceress will be working alongside us on this operation. If that’s something you can’t handle in a professional manner, then I have a pile of coloring books and some crayons in my office that you can play with while the adults go to work. Is that clear?” The agents nodded and Agent Ross smiled. “Great. Now, let’s get to work.”

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

(Y/N) blocked bullet after bullet fired at her but was forced to throw herself behind a nearby stone wall for cover when she caught sight of the flamethrower being aimed in her direction; clutching the stitch in her side, she yelled into her comm link, “Did you forget to mention that Garmiena’s an enhanced, Agent Ross, or did you just want to surprise me?!”

“This is the first the CIA’s hearing about it; believe me, I’m just as pissed about this as you are! There’s too many of him, I’m calling in backup from Fury-”

“No! By the time they arrive he’ll have already escaped or injured civilians; we just need to think of a new plan.” (Y/N) cautiously rose to take a quick look around the stone wall. The hotel was completely surrounded by CIA agents but they too were taking cover as a dozen versions of Garmiena stood on the roof and fired guns and other weapons at anything that dared move. Out of all the enhanced superpowers I’ve seen as an Avenger, self-duplicating’s got to be the weirdest one yet, she thought to herself. Her eyes landed on the building beside the hotel and after realizing that they were fairly close in height, a plan began to form in her mind. “All right, I think I’ve got something but it might not work…”

“Anything’s better than nothing; what’ve you got?”

Once she and Agent Ross finalized their new plan, (Y/N) took a steadying breath and waited for the signal; sure enough, moments later the agents began returning fire on the south side of the building, giving (Y/N) enough time to sprint out from behind her hiding spot and to the building adjacent to the hotel. Without stopping to question if her plan would even work, (Y/N) summoned her purple-hued magic into her palms and aimed them towards the ground; the overwhelming force of her magic propelled her into the sky at dizzying speed, and in the blink of an eye she had landed on the roof of the building.

Not stopping to admire her newfound magical skill, she ran at top speed towards the rooftop of the hotel and jumped, landing on the roof and somersaulting onto her feet. The duplicates of Garmiena all turned towards her with their weapons at the ready, but (Y/N) thrust her hands outwards and clenched them into fists, watching as each weapon was ripped from their grasp and thrown off the roof. She then raised her arms and forced them downwards, which caused the duplicates to be thrown high into the air before landing harshly onto the roof; one by one, the duplicates blinked into nothingness until just one man was left groaning in pain as he struggled to stand.

(Y/N) strode over to Garmiena, drawing her sword and holding it against his throat to halt his movement. “Antoine Garmiena, on behalf of the Avengers I’m placing you under arrest.” She held her free hand up to her ear and spoke into her comm link. “Target apprehended, requesting assistance on the northeast side of the rooftop.”

“Great work, Cosmic Sorceress; the tac team’s on their way up.”

Garmiena’s brow rose in surprise, and it was then that (Y/N) was struck by the unusual brightness of his hazel eyes. “So, you’re the one they call the Cosmic Sorceress. Tell me, did Stark and Banner create you in that laboratory of theirs or were you blessed by the gods as I was?”

“Apparently you’re just as delusional as they warned me you were. You didn’t receive your enhancement from the gods, you’re one of the countless people who allowed Hydra to experiment on them and in return were used to carry out their bidding. If you’re trying to look for similarities between us, then I suggest you stop now because we have nothing in common.”

He chuckled to himself. “Now who’s the delusional one? The only thing keeping us from being alike is your cowardice.” (Y/N) frowned in confusion and he took the opportunity to continue uninterrupted, his eyes strangely unfocused as he spoke. “I’ve embraced my true identity while you have hidden yours away. You have the chance to fulfill your mother’s quest to rule, yet you squander your power by remaining with the Avengers, Earth’s So-Called Mightiest Heroes.”

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold at his words; clenching her jaw, she pressed her sword into the skin of his neck as her vision began to redden. “What did you just say?”

“Yes, you and I are similar, but I would say you and your mother are more alike than you realize. The fiery tempers, the star-crossed loves and most importantly, the ambition. Deep down, you know that you don’t belong with your pitiful pretend family and once you let them go…” Garmiena grinned widely and although she registered that something was off about the situation, it didn’t do a single thing to quell her growing fury. “You’ll be free to unleash your true potential.”

With a sharp flick of her wrist, (Y/N)’s purple magic swirled tightly around his body and she watched as the smug expression on his face slowly morphed into a grimace of pain. Something deep inside of (Y/N) warned her to stop but she purposefully ignored it, clenching her fingers into a fist to tighten her darkening magic’s hold…

“Stand down, we’ll take him from here.”

Startled, (Y/N) released her hold on Garmiena and looked with widened eyes as he gasped for air and her now scarlet-colored magic faded into nothing. She stumbled backwards and out of the way of the tac team as they hauled Garmiena to his feet and dragged him towards the rooftop doorway; out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Agent Ross approaching. “The CIA owes you a debt of gratitude; zero civilian casualties and minimal property damage is what we like to see in an Avenger.” He glanced over his shoulder and turned back to her with a low whisper. “So, um, about your magic…how does it work? The color, I mean; did you choose purple, or is the color tied to your emotions, like a mood ring or something?”

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway Garmiena disappeared through, (Y/N) met Agent Ross’ curious eyes with a forced smile. “You know, Agent Ross…I’m not really sure.”

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

It was well past midnight by the time (Y/N) was able to go back to her suite in the Avengers Tower. She sat through a CIA mission debriefing in Vancouver before boarding the Quinjet and heading back home to New York, only to attend another debriefing in Director Fury’s office. During that time, she hadn’t had the opportunity to reflect on what had occurred on the hotel rooftop but now that she was alone with her thoughts, it was all she could focus on; she spent the entire afternoon and evening learning about Garmiena’s background, and there was absolutely nothing in the CIA or the Avenger’s dossiers that indicated that the Hydra enforcer had any connection to Alfheim. She’d even considered consulting the book King Tarian had gifted her but had quickly changed her mind; the one and only time she’d tried reading it had triggered horrific nightmares that had yet to dissipate, so she kept the book tucked away in her closet, out of sight and out of mind.

But what had worried her the most wasn’t just that Garmiena somehow possessed knowledge of her family, it was that for a split-second, she had lost control of her magic and had done very little to try and regain it. She’d wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel pain for what he’d said and done, and if the CIA tac team hadn’t shown up when they did…she wasn’t sure what would’ve happened. First Tony and Loki, and now Garmiena, she thought to herself as she unfastened her sword from her belt and set it down on her suite’s coffee table, how many more people am I going to needlessly hurt with my magic?

As quietly as she could, (Y/N) crept into the bedroom and glanced over to see Loki already fast asleep; he was stretched out on his back, the blankets pooling at his waist as his bare chest nearly glowed in the darkness, and his expression was peaceful as he slept. Seeing her boyfriend put her at ease, and after silently changing into her pajamas and going about her nighttime routine, she carefully got into bed beside him and made herself comfortable on her right side. She smiled softly when she felt Loki’s arm wrap around her waist and hold her against his chest as he nuzzled his face into her neck and let out a sleepy hum of contentment. “How’d your mission go, my love?”

“Wonderfully.” She lied, ignoring the pang of guilt brought on by her outright deceit. “What about yours?”

“I managed not to kill Barton, so I’d say it went well. Did Garmiena put up much of a fight?”

Instead of answering, (Y/N) smoothed down his sleep-rumpled hair with gentle fingers. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart, I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Okay?”

“…Fair enough. G’night, darling.”

“Goodnight.”

Loki quickly fell back asleep, but (Y/N)’s restless mind refused to let her follow suit. She glanced over her shoulder at her boyfriend and after checking that he was indeed asleep, she held a hand out and only hesitated a moment before summoning her magic. To her immense relief, the magic swirling around her hand had returned to its usual purple hue; the longer she laid in bed staring at the tendrils of magic dancing across her palm, however, the more curious she grew. Agent Ross had innocently speculated that her magic’s color was tied to her emotions so to test the theory out, (Y/N) thought about Garmiena’s words and how they’d affected her on the rooftop; though it was difficult, she remembered the white-hot anger that had filled her as her magic tightened its hold around him and she squeezed her eyes closed, part of her too frightened to look.

Don’t be such a coward, (Y/N) scolded herself after several long moments; taking a steadying breath, she slowly opened her eyes. She had to stifle her horrified gasp behind her free hand as her widened eyes stared at the shocking swirls of scarlet magic dancing across her palm.

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

A/N: Some more interesting developments! This is the end of the second chunk of this story, and I just wanted to let you all know that there won’t be a new chapter next week but instead the week after. It’s nothing serious, I just need the time to write some more and finish up a couple of my other fics. I’m sorry to make you guys wait a little longer for the next chapter, but I promise that I’ll be back here in two weeks with an update!

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Sixteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #natasha romanoff #black widow #sam wilson #falcon #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #clint barton #hawkeye #everett ross #nick fury #director fury #marvel cinematic universe

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laurenhufflepuff2 · 4 years ago

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A list of fandoms I'm in (in no particular order, will probably be updated regularly. Some fandoms are more intense and some are more casual. Depending on the fandom, I could go on and on about fandom topics for HOURS. Let's get into it!)

Harry Potter, Disney, Marvel, DC comics, Miraculous Ladybug, Avatar: The Last Airbender/The Legend of Korra, Star Wars, Literature, Winx Club, Nintendo, Minecraft, Little Witch Academia, Voltron, Coraline

Details:

Harry Potter- I got into Harry Potter in 7th grade and now I am the resident expert in my family and in my friend group. I read all the books, watched all the movies (notably the British version), and I've seen the Fantastic Beasts films as well. I've also read Tales of Beedle the Bard (the Warlock's Hairy Heart was traumatizing) along with the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them textbook (plus an updated edition). I also read The Cursed Child script and while I mean no hate to anyone that liked it, I hated what it did to the canon. I am in Hufflepuff with some Ravenclaw tendencies (I took the Pottermore quiz 3 times, 2 out of 3 I got Hufflepuff, the other time was Ravenclaw). I had a pottermore account and I was so upset when it got converted to the Wizarding World page. I cosplayed Hermione in 7th grade complete with British accent and even monologued as her for a talent show (classmates and teachers would recognize me as the Hermione girl all the way through high school). I was obsessed and I still love it even if J.K. Rowling has gone off the deep end on Twitter... yeah... my favorite character is Hermione but I also relate to Luna

Disney- there's so much that goes into the Disney part of my fandom list. I'm excluding Marvel and Star Wars from this part as they were originally separate entities before Disney got the rights to them. I have seen almost every animated Disney film ever and often use random movie quotes in conversation. My favorite villain is Maleficent, my favorite princess is Ariel (followed by Belle, Rapunzel, and Anna). I relate to so many of the characters. I'm not sure who my favorite Pixar character is though (I love Violet, Sadness, Dory, and Piper (from the short)). My favorite Disney fairy is Fawn. My favorite characters overall are Ariel and Stitch. Disney is definitely on the list as one of my biggest obsessions. My favorite movies are Lilo and Stitch, the Little Mermaid, Inside Out, Alice in Wonderland (original), and The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

Marvel- I mostly get my Marvel exposure through the MCU, other movies, and animated TV shows. I have difficulty reading graphic novels so most of my comic book knowledge comes from friends, posts, or wikis. My favorite characters are Spider-Man, Captain America, Peggy Carter, and Scarlet Witch. I also like Gwenpool, Deadpool, Spider-Gwen/ Ghost-Spider, Venom, Squirrel Girl, Daredevil, Mantis, Gamora, Black Widow, Iron Man, Thor, Loki, Bucky, Black Panther, and most MCU characters. Out of the X-men I really like Professor X, Wolverine, Mystique, Magneto, Nightcrawler, and Quicksilver (either version- MCU or Fox).

DC- this was the franchise I was more familiar with growing up but again, graphic novels aren't easy for me to read so most of my knowledge comes from information pages about the comics or from tv/movies. My earliest experience with DC came from the 60s Batman series, with Catwoman and Robin being my favorites. I also watched the Wonder Woman series from the 70s and a handful of CW shows, my favorite of which being the Flash and Arrow. I also managed to watch all 5 seasons of the Teen Titans Cartoon Network series from 2003. With that being said, my favorite characters are Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Flash, Batman, Nightwing/Robin (Dick Grayson), Green Arrow, Starfire, Raven, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Alfred. I also like most of the bat family, and when it comes to CW I LOVE Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost and Cisco.

Miraculous- this is one of my guilty fandoms but since this is Tumblr I'm not too worried about it. I love Marinette and I relate to her on an astoundingly deep level (minus the stalking and obsession with potential lovers, that's creepy). If I had a miraculous, I'd probably want the Ladybug one, but the Cat miraculous, fox miraculous, and snake miraculous are good too. My favorite character is Marinette/Ladybug.

Atla/Tlok- I jumped on the avatar bandwagon just when it was starting to get popular, so I managed to get through the series before the memes took over everything. Same with Tlok, although i couldn't completely avoid the spoilers for that when i started it. I've been wanting to get into the comics because of the short story comics I've read, they seem easier to read than superhero comics. My favorite characters are Aang, Katara, Ty Lee, Iroh, Korra, Jinora, Asami, Suki, Appa, Momo, Naga, and Pabu. I also like Sokka, Mai, Zuko, Lin, Kuvira, Varrick, Zhu Lee, and Azula. I feel really sorry for her and while I understand that a redemption arc would undermine the importance of her corruption arc, I still wish she could have one. I would love to be a waterbender or an airbender... maybe a waterbender raised in the air nation? Obviously, being the avatar itself would be awesome. The show has taught me a lot of great lessons and put a lot of stuff into perspective for me.

Star Wars- oh boy, talking about this one is dangerous. I've seen firsthand the horrors of the Star Wars fandom but then again no one will probably see this anyway so... I've seen all the movies and I remember watching the clone wars series with my brother when I was younger but we fell wayyy behind and it's taking us forever to get back into it. I've also seen the Mandalorian and quite enjoyed it. I like the prequels unironically, in fact, the prequels are some of my favorite movies. I especially like how they switched from lightsabers being heavy weapons to light weapons that can be used for all kinds of tricks that make for epic battles like the ones we see in Revenge of the Sith. The sequels were fun to watch but when I would analyze them along side their predecessors, I came to the conclusion that, for me, they were good to watch but did not do anything good for the rest of the franchise. My favorite characters are prequels/clone wars Obi Wan and Anakin, Padme, Ashoka, Leia, R2D2, BB-8, R4-P17, the Mandalorian (Din Djarin), and Grogu. If I had a lightsaber I'd want it to be blue, but when I was little I got a purple one like Mace Windu because it was closer to pink and I was into pink at the time. I still have that lightsaber and none of my friends have a purple one so it's one of my flexes. I feel like I wouldn't make a good jedi because of attachments being forbidden, so I'd probably become a grey jedi.

Literature- this is a broad term I use to cover all the random books and stories I liked reading and have studied. So we have Shakespeare (Macbeth, Much Ado About Nothing, Romeo and Juliet), The Great Gatsby (bored while reading, loved to analyze), Grendel (HATED reading, loved to analyze, Grendel really needed a hug and a friend), The Crucible, Fahrenheit 451, Dark Life (+ the sequel Riptide, both are by Kat Falls good reads, sci-fi and kind of dystopian), The Once and Future King

Winx Club- I think the show is trashy but I still love watching it. I haven't been able to get through season 6 though and I hated what they did with season 8 and Fate: the Winx Saga. My favorite character is Bloom along with Stella and Flora. I prefer rai to nick. My favorite transformations are magic winx, enchantix, and harmonix. My favorite member of the Trix is Icy followed by Darcy. My favorite Pixies are Chatta and Lockette.

Nintendo- mainly Pokémon above all else, followed by Animal Crossing. I have also played (mostly as player 2 or just never beat or watched my brother play) mario games, legend of zelda, pikmin, and kirby. Games I haven't played but I just liked the characters/the lore and probably learned about through Super Smash Bros. are Fire Emblem (Lucina mostly), Metroid (Samus and baby metroid), and Kid Icarus. Pokémon is where I'm most knowledgeable but you'll most likely beat me in battle. I am however great at MarioKart and I always destroy my friends at it. Terrible at fighting games though.

Minecraft- I like playing this casually. Sure, I'll play for hours and hours on end for months, but I prefer to stay exclusively in peaceful when playing Survival mode and I don't make anything too ambitious in Creative mode. I like to write, so sometimes I'll make a rough layout of the settings of my stories in different worlds. I prefer interior design and decorating when building, and when in survival mode I focus more on mining and gathering while my brother works on ambitious building projects. I just bring him the raw materials and furnish the interior when he finishes the outside.

Little Witch Academia- this takes up a smaller portion of my fandom list because there were only 2 seasons and a couple movies and I watched the whole series years ago, but I still enjoy it. At one point I wanted to cosplay Akko, and I loved the nod at Twilight through the Nightfall series. And I especially liked the twist that Shiny Chariot was Ursula, which I suspected for some time. The blend between magic and technology was fun to see, but I was so sad that the series ended RIGHT when Akko finally showed signs of magic proficiency. Also, Shiny Chariot being the reason Akko couldn't do magic was heartbreaking.

Voltron- this takes up a much smaller portion of my fandom list mainly because I haven't even finished it. I know hardly anything about Transformers aside from the Bumblebee movie so to me I just watch it for fun. It reminds me of power rangers, star wars, and star trek, and then there's just a transformer insert. But I don't know anything about Transformers so maybe the show is more rooted in canon than I think.

Coraline- I am in a love-hate relationship with Coraline. I have watched the movie several times, I've read the book, I've watched hours of theories and analyses on youtube, I've watched behind the scenes videos by Laika, and I even wrote a script for a fan film parody. I am amazed at how original the story is and how impressive the stop motion animation is but I also have recurring nightmares from it and it scares me/creeps me out to the max. If anyone asks what my scariness limit is, it's definitely Coraline.

#fandoms #about me #harry potter #disney #dc #marvel #avatar the last airbender #the legend of korra #star wars #miraculous ladybug #literature #winx club #nintendo #minecraft #pokémon #little witch academia #voltron #coraline

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yumeka36 · 5 years ago

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The Frozen 2 prequel novel, “Dangerous Secrets: The Story of Iduna and Agnarr,” is scheduled to release on November 3rd. A preview excerpt was just released via this article from Insider.com. I pasted it below, with my thoughts following:

---

THE STORM IS GETTING WORSE.

Lightning slashes across an angry black sky, soon followed by the crash of thunder. Waves pound against the ship's hull as I grip the wooden rail with white knuckles. Fierce gusts of wind tug my hair free from its braid, and damp brown strands whip at my face. I don't dare let go to brush them away.

Instead, I keep my eyes on the sea. Looking for her.

In some ways, I've spent my entire life looking for her. And tonight, my journey may finally come to an end. Unfinished. Unfound.

Ahtohallan. Please! I need you!

Perhaps she never existed at all. Perhaps she was simply a myth. A silly song to lull children to sleep. To make them feel safe and secure in a world that's anything but. Perhaps I was a fool to think we could simply go and seek her out. Learn the mother's secrets.

I do know something about a mother's secrets.

Another wave sweeps in, bashing against the ship's hull, sending a spray of icy seawater splashing at my face. I stumble backward, momentarily blinded by the salt stinging my eyes. A strong pair of hands clamps down on my hips; a solid chest at my back keeps me upright.

I turn, already knowing whom I'll find standing tall behind me. The man who has been with me almost my entire life. The man who has made me laugh—and cry—more than anyone else in the world. My husband. The father of my daughters. My enemy. My friend.

My love.

Agnarr, king of Arendelle.

"Come, Iduna," he says, pulling me around to face him. He reaches out, clasping my hands in his. They are as warm and strong as mine are cold and trembling.

I look up, taking in the sharp line of his jaw. The fierceness in his leaf-green eyes. If he's frightened, he's not showing it. "We need to go below deck," he says, shouting to be heard over the furious wind. "Captain's orders. It's not safe up here. One rogue wave could knock you overboard."

I feel a sob rise to my throat. I want to lash out, protest the orders. I'm fine. I can take care of myself. I'm not some silly girl frightened by the elements.

But what I really want to say is, I can't leave. I haven't found her yet.

If I go below, I may never find her.

And if I don't . . .

Elsa. My sweet Elsa . . . My dear Anna . . .

Agnarr gives me a pointed look. I sigh, untangling my hands from his, and begin stumbling toward the stairs that lead to our cabin below, on legs unaccustomed to rough seas. I'm almost there when the ship suddenly pitches hard to the left and I lose my footing, grabbing on to the railing to save myself. I can feel a few of the crew watching me with concern, but I push forward, keeping my head held high. I am a queen, after all. There are certain expectations.

Once below, I push open our cabin door and move inside, letting it bang shut behind me. The captain has given us his cabin for the journey, which I insisted wasn't necessary, but I was overruled. It's the only cabin suited for a fine lady, he protested. Because that's how he sees me.

That's how they all see me now. A fine lady. A perfectly poised Arendellian queen.

But now, at last, Agnarr knows the truth.

I ease myself down on the bed, reaching to grab my knitting needles and my half-finished project. An inappropriate task under the circumstances, but perhaps the only thing that might steady my hands—my pounding heart. I can hear Agnarr push open the door, his strong, solid presence filling the room. But I don't look up. Instead, I start to knit as the ship rocks beneath my

feet. It's dark down below, too dark to really see the delicate yarn, but my hands are sure and true, the repetitive motions as natural and familiar to me as taking in air. Yelana would be proud.

Yelana. Is she still out there, in the Enchanted Forest, still locked in the mist?

Only Ahtohallan knows.

Suddenly, I want to throw my needles across the room. Or collapse on the bed in tears. But I do neither, keeping my attention on the unfinished shawl. Forcing myself to let each stitch lull me into something resembling comfort.

Agnarr pulls out a wooden stool from the captain's desk, sitting down across from me. He picks up a corner of the unfinished shawl, running his large fingers across the tiny stitches. I dare to sneak a peek at him, realizing his eyes have become soft and faraway.

"This is the same pattern," he says slowly. And I know what he means without asking. Because of course it is. I hadn't even realized it when I started, but of course it is.

The same pattern as the shawl my mother knitted me when I was a baby.

The shawl that saved his life.

"It's an old Northuldra pattern," I explain, surprised how easily the words leave my mouth now that the truth is known. "Belonging to my family." I pick up his hand and place it on each symbol in turn. "Earth, fire, water, wind." I pause on the wind symbol, thinking back to

Gale. "It was the Wind Spirit who helped me save your life that day in the forest."

He gives a low whistle. "A wind spirit! If only I'd known," he says, reaching up to brush his thumb gently across my cheek. Even after all these years, his touch still sparks a longing ache deep inside, and it's an imperative, not an option, to drop my needles to return the gesture. To run my fingers against the light stubble of his jaw. "It would have made my stories to the girls so much more interesting."

I smile at this. I can't help it. He has always found a way to help me find sunshine amidst the gloomiest of days. It's strange, though, to realize he knows everything now. After a lifetime overshadowed with secrets, it should feel freeing.

But in truth, it still scares me a little, and I find myself glancing at him when he doesn't know I'm looking. Trying to see, trying to know whether the truth has changed his feelings toward me. Does he resent me for keeping so much from him for so long? Or does he truly understand why I did it? If we survive this night, how will things change between us? Will the truth bring us closer together? Or tear us apart?

Only Ahtohallan knows. . . .

I reach out and take Agnarr's hands in mine, meeting his deep green eyes with my blue ones. I swallow down the lump in my throat that threatens to choke me, and force another smile.

"I will never forget that day," I start with a whisper, not sure he can even hear me over the tempest outside. "That horrible, wonderful day."

"Tell me," he whispers back, leaning in close. I can feel his breath on my lips. Our faces are inches away. "Tell me everything."

I swallow all the words that threaten to jump out of my throat in a hurried rush, throwing myself back on the bed, staring up at the wooden-beamed ceiling. After I breathe calmly, I say, "That might take all night."

He crawls onto the bed, lying down next to me. He reaches out and curls his hand into mine. "For you, I've got forever."

I swallow hard, tears welling in my eyes. I want to protest: we don't have forever. Or even all night. We may not have an hour, judging from the way the wooden beams of the ship are creaking and cracking. But at the same time, it doesn't matter. It's time. It's long past time. He deserves to know everything.

I swipe the tears away, rolling to my side and propping my head up with my elbow. "You have to tell your part, too," I say. "This story isn't only mine, you know."

His arm curls around my waist, his hand settling at the small of my back as he tugs me closer to him. He's so warm. How is it possible that he's still so warm? "I think I can manage that," he says with a small smile. "But you must start. It all began with you, after all."

"All right," I say, resting my head on his chest, his steady heartbeat against my ear. I close my eyes, trying to decide where to begin. So much has happened over the years. But there is that one day. One fateful day that changed the course of both our lives forever.

I open my eyes. "It all starts with the wind," I say. "My dear friend Gale."

As I speak, the words begin to course through me like the forbidding waters roiling outside. And like the waters, I will finally make myself heard.

Agnarr will listen.

He's always been the storyteller in our family. But not this time. Now it's my turn to tell the tale.

---

What stood out to me:

- It seems like Iduna revealed her past to Agnarr around the time they set sail for Ahtohallan, not the night of the accident with Elsa’s magic as Jennifer Lee, and I believe other sources, have implied. Of course, with “spin-off” content like this where the original creators aren’t involved, there’s bound to be inconsistencies. But Jen never stated that the time of Iduna’s reveal was definitely the night of the accident, only that she believes it’s that night though it could have been another night (I think this was part of the podcast interview she did several months ago). So yeah, the exact night it happened isn’t terribly relevant.

- This excerpt also reveals that Iduna revealed some of the truth to Agnarr early on, but then reveals everything in detail during their last moments before the ship goes down. So maybe she did reveal some of it the night of the accident but not all? We’ll see.

- Iduna knew Yelena. That makes sense considering Yelena’s age and the importance she seems to have in the Northuldra tribe.

- Iduna uses feminine pronouns for Ahtohallan, reinforcing the theory in my Frozen 2 book that Ahtohallan was viewed as a goddess of sorts in Northuldra culture

- Iduna also calls the wind spirit “Gale.” Obviously we all thought that was the name Olaf gave her but apparently Iduna did as well. Coincidence?

- The book is written in first-person perspective from Iduna’s point of view, unlike the previous adult-aimed Frozen books “A Frozen Heart” and “Forest of Shadows” which are written in second/third-person.

- Iduna was in the process of knitting another scarf while on the ship. I wonder why.

- The cover art for the book changed slightly from the original version, with the main image in the center being of Iduna and Agnarr when they’re younger instead of when they’re king and queen.

- I’m curious as to what kind of order the book will present the events of the timeline. Obviously this excerpt is from the end of Iduna and Agnarr’s lives, so will it start here and show everything else via flashbacks? Seems weird they’d choose the end of the book for this preview so my guess is that things will be revealed out of order.

#frozen 2 #frozen #disney frozen #frozen2 #queen iduna #agnarr

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pickledbeefwastaken · 4 years ago

Text

The Unending Kindness & Patience of Dave Katz - CHAPTER TWO

New chapter below the cut!

Chapter 1 here:

(TW: vomiting, mentions of prostitution, mentions of domestic violence)

Klaus had figured out three more important things about Dave by the time he’d made it out the front doors of the hospital:

1. He was very trusting—naively so.

2. He was surprisingly hard to ruffle

2. He was really fucking beautiful.

Klaus had figured out three more important things about Dave by the time he’d made it out the front doors of the hospital:

He was very trusting—naively so.

After Dave suggested that Klaus should let Dave cut his hair for him, he’d gone on to further suggest that he come to his house for him to do this. Klaus. Klaus, who’d come stumbling into his arms with a head wound and had taken scissors to his head within five minutes of waking up. Klaus, who had only been half dressed and shoeless. Klaus, with track marks all up and down his arms. Klaus, who had hissed at Ben, who was very much invisible to anyone but him, right in front of Dave.

Dave had also left Klaus alone in the room while he went to get a nurse, figuring that Klaus would stay put and stay laying down like he asked him to (he hadn’t). Before Dave could come back from getting a nurse, Klaus was up on his feet and stumbling out of the room. He snuck quickly down the hall, managing to make his way almost entirely to the front doors before, to his utter bad luck, he ran quite literally into fucking DAVE. He’d caught Klaus and asked him why he was out of bed, and when Klaus told him he needed to go, Dave had just nodded and followed him outside.

He was surprisingly difficult to ruffle.

Dave hadn’t even asked why Klaus wanted to leave so bad. He’d just looked at Klaus and his wide, panicky eyes and took his elbow like there was nothing weird about any of this and helped guide him outside. He hadn’t gotten defensive when Klaus had snapped at him earlier, he hadn’t seemed too terribly weirded out by Klaus’s hair cutting stunt or the way his eyes drifted to seemingly empty spots in the room.

He was really fucking beautiful.

Dave’s expression had been surprised when he caught Klaus by the biceps as they ran into each other, big blue eyes looking into Klaus’s own. He’d smiled at him with dazzling white teeth, he let Klaus hold his strong arm for support as he led him outside and while Klaus had more pressing priorities than a hot guy helping him like an obedient service dog, he wasn’t blind, okay?

Now that he’d made his not so sneaky escape from the hospital, his energy was waning quickly. He kept his arm wrapped around Dave’s for support until Dave led him toward a bench to rest. He must have noticed Klaus’s sagging shoulders and labored breathing. While Klaus felt an instinct to do something to resist the kindness he was being shown, he was once again tired and Dave seemed nice and though he knew he shouldn’t trust him, he didn’t feel like he had much fight in him.

“Okay. So, can you tell me why we needed to get out of there so bad?” Dave asked, voice so stupidly, perfectly patient that Klaus looked at him like he suspected he might actually be an alien under all that perfect skin.

Klaus blew out a breath and leaned back against against the cool concrete, eyes shifting nervously to the doors of the hospital.

“Because I don’t have health insurance and if they figure out who I am, they’ll call my emergency contact who I was supposed to remove but I haven’t exactly gotten around to that yet,” he said honestly, “Plus, I really hate hospitals.”

He didn’t snark or joke or use any of his usual defenses to skirt around the truth. Maybe Dave would try to march him right back inside, but either way, he wasn’t in much of a position to fight if Dave wanted to take him anywhere right now.

Dave nodded slowly, “Okay. I can understand that. The doctors said that you had a pretty good concussion, but beyond that and the stitches, you’re probably okay. I’m sure they would want to check you out one more time before you leave, but that’s your choice.”

Klaus knew Dave was right—the doctors would check him again and take forever doing it and making him suffer in there for hours until they finally signed discharge forms and that’s assuming they’d let him leave without paying or at least giving a name so they could bill him later. Klaus shook his head. Concussions could be treated at home—they sucked, he remembered a particularly nasty one Diego had gotten after a mission gone wrong as kids, but it’d been fine to handle at home.

“No, I just need to get rid of this hair,” He said, leaning forward.

The shakes were setting in, making his hands tremble. He pressed them between his knees in an effort to still them. His spine and shoulders and hips ached in a bone-deep sort of way. Okay, so he needed to get rid of his hair and get a pretty good-sized score, one big enough to stave off his withdrawal with enough leftover to offer to Pete as a means to get back inside. Where was he going to find that though? He was half-dressed and most of his belongings were back at Pete’s. He had no money, no nothing, nothing worth trading except for himself, which he didn’t anticipate being easy considering the freshly stitched gash along the side of his head and the dried blood along his face and torso.

Okay, so he needed to cut his hair, take a shower, and then figure out a way to get money that didn’t involve prostitution. He couldn’t trust people not to be too rough with him right now, not when he was too weak to defend himself or endure much rough-housing. He was in so much pain that he was pretty sure he wasn’t even capable of getting it up right now, not that it was really a requirement. Still. Prostitution was probably out.

He saw the sun barely glimmering above the horizon, signaling the last of the daylight hours. Once he had managed to get his hair short enough and maybe even had talked Dave into letting him take a shower, that still left him on his own in the streets in the middle of the night. By the time he managed to steal something, the pawn shops would be closed. Dealers weren’t usually too keen on trades that didn’t involve sexual favors, so he wouldn’t be able to trade up until morning, which means that he didn’t have anywhere to go tonight. Shit, he’d be sleeping outside. He should have grabbed one of those hospital blankets on his way out, or at least a towel, something.

This was all making his brain hurt, trying to figure out how he was going to get through the night and it made him feel frustrated and angry and desperate. He kept his eyes down on his hand where they were pressed between his knees. He didn’t realized he was crying out of frustration until a fat, hot tear landed on his wrist.

“Alright then, I’ll help you get it cut. Come on,” Dave said patiently, standing and offering his hands to Klaus.

Klaus swiped quickly at his eyes and took Dave’s hands, grunting as he was hauled up to his feet, very carefully not meeting Dave’s eyes. He’d probably noticed his tears, but Klaus was hoping he’d do the macho, polite thing and let them mutually pretend the tears weren’t happening.

“Shit. Hey, it’s okay.” Well fuck, no such luck.

Klaus pulled his hands out of Dave’s grip and turned more bodily away from him, signaling that he really was not wanting to talk about it. He took off walking, steps smaller than usual, feeling stiff and woozy and to be honest, he had no idea what direction he was stumbling off into. Dave was back at his elbow after a few paces, touching with just his fingertips, more hesitant after Klaus had torn his hands from Dave’s.

“Okay, hey. Come on, this way.” Dave said, nodding his head in the opposite direction.

Klaus stopped and let out an irritated breath, but turned and walked in the direction Dave was indicating.

“You don’t even know where he’s taking you Klaus. You need to call Diego.” Ben said at Klaus’s side.

Klaus wasn’t having this argument again. He swung a hand weakly in the direction of the voice, ‘shh’-ing harshly and waving Ben off. He was too tired to deal with Diego’s shit, too tired to try to do any of this himself, too tired to care if Dave drugged him or held him down or tied him up or killed him, he was just too tired. The thought of having to go through so much tonight, sleeping outside, having to figure out what to steal and then actually successfully stealing said thing, pawning it, finding a dealer, and getting back to Pete’s while concussed and also beginning withdrawals sounded like Hell so he didn’t care what Dave did to him. It couldn’t be worse, could it?

Dave led him into the parking garage and Klaus followed, having to remind himself periodically to keep his eyes open. Before Klaus knew it, he was standing in front of a car and Dave was opening a door for him. He wasn’t sure that he remembered the entire walk over. He let muscle memory take over, the familiar motion of lifting one leg into the car and leaning down to sit being executed, but he manage to smack his forehead on the frame of the car before he made it in. Klaus gasped in pain, both hands flying to press against his forehead as shooting heat seared through his head accompanied by a throbbing ache that felt like it might burst through his skull. His knees buckled instantly and he went down.

He was caught just before hitting the ground by Dave’s arms under his armpits. The jolt from the catch alone sent another wave of pain through Klaus’s head and he nearly dry-heaved, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dizziness, the withdrawal, or the pain.

“Woah, woah, careful. I’m sorry, here. Let me help,” Dave said, voice gentle.

Klaus didn’t fight, he was boneless as he let Dave guide him into the car, with Dave taking more of his weight than was probably fair. He kept his eyes squeezed close and curled up in the seat. He was vaguely aware of tears on his cheeks, so he pressed both palms over his eyes, hiding his face against his knees as he breathed through the pain. It took another moment to register that Dave’s hand was on his calf, thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles there.

“Are you okay?” Dave asked softly.

Klaus sniffled and wiped his face before he opened tired eyes and looked at him, nodding minutely.

“Yeah. Just hurts,” he breathed.

Dave nodded and let go of Klaus’s leg, standing up from where he’d been crouched and though it was ridiculous and a testament to how messed up Klaus must be, he missed the touch. It had been kind and comforting and it wasn’t the kind of touch he often received.

Dave only moved a little though, opening the back door to reach in and grab something before returning to crouch beside Klaus. He shook out a warm, flannel-lined denim jacket and draped it over Klaus’s bare torso, tucking it up under his chin. Klaus just curled into it, pulling his bare feet up onto the seat to tuck under the coat too, feeling the ache in his spine that told him that the chills would be starting soon. He closed his eyes and tucked his face down into the collar, noting the scent. It was warm and soft and comforting and delicious and it made Klaus sigh in relief, snuggling in further. He was more comfortable than he’d remembered being in a long time.

“Thanks, Dave,” Klaus breathed.

He felt a hand ruffle his hair gently and then something wrap around him and click—a seatbelt, he realized—and then the door closed, the sound making Klaus whimper. Dave got in the driver’s seat and closed his door, again making Klaus stiffen and grunt. The car was started and then they were moving, which was awful, absolutely nauseatingly awful, but Dave turned the heater on and that felt nice and it’d grown dark out, so that was nice too.

He did his best to let his thoughts be lulled by the movement of the car, breathing in the scent at the collar of Dave’s jacket. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was being woken by a hand on his knee. He jerked, opening his eyes blearily under the wash of the car’s interior lights. His eyes found Dave and he relaxed a little.

“Sorry. We’re here, you doing okay?” Dave asked, voice gentle and patient as he removed his hand from Klaus’s knee.

Klaus nodded at first, but then felt a rolling sensation in his stomach and jolted a little, hands scrabbling for the seatbelt. He quickly amended his reaction into a shake of his head, a little too frantic, which hurt his head all over again and sent bile rising up his throat. It took two tries to get the belt unbuckled.

“Gonna be sick,” he breathed, scrambling out of the car like a baby deer on ice, thankfully caught by Dave.

Dave helped him to his feet and led him quickly the two steps to the grass just in time for Klaus to heave. His knees buckled, but Dave caught him yet again with an arm around his waist, supporting his weight. The press of the arm against his abdomen only made him heave again, harder this time. There wasn’t really anything in his stomach, but he spit out whatever stomach acid had risen, breathing hard through the spinning sensation that followed.

“F-fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dave,” he said, voice quivering.

“No, no need to apologize. It’s okay. Are you alright? Let’s get you upstairs and I’ll get you some water,” Dave said patiently—always so patient.

Klaus nodded, feeling a little more settled—still shaky and a bit nauseous and dizzy, but he didn’t think he was going to throw up again. Dave let Klaus go when he seemed confident Klaus could hold his own weight, returning to the car to close the door before coming back to Klaus’s side.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Dave said kindly, placing his hand against Klaus’s elbow in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar.

#klave fic #klave #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #dave katz #klaus hargreeves #klaus x dave #dave x klaus #tw: violence #tw: vomiting

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding Colors (Part 2)

(Hayffie ❤️🧡💛💚💙💖. An exploration of Effie’s evolving character as she faces past and present personal intensities while making preparations for Finnick and Annie’s wedding.)

9:00—mentoring. The buzz that Haymitch had been feeling was killed even before Peeta kicked him out of the hospital room.

The boy was angry. “What if I’d murdered the people who were trying to help us because I didn’t know they were trying to help us!!? Do you think anyone would be asking me to frost a cake for Finnick’s FUNERAL if I’d slit his throat!? I can’t even look at you right now. Just go.”

It didn’t help that Haymitch’s eyes looked so much like Katniss’s.

At least Peeta was becoming more lucid. Haymitch took the boy’s justifiable anger as a positive sign and respected his request to be alone.

At the other end of the hospital, he opened the girl’s door to find Johanna plugged into Katniss’s IV. They both looked up but neither moved an inch.

“Jealous?” Johanna sneered.

“Not my drug of choice, sweetheart,” though her comment was spot-on. To Katniss he asked, “Are you okay with this?”

“It’s fine.” She winced, and he glared at Johanna.

“What? She says she’s fine. Plutarch took her for a walk yesterday afternoon. He probably just held her leash too tight.”

“I can tell them I don’t need the morphling anymore...” Her threat wasn’t far from the truth, and Johanna knew it.

“It’s nothing personal. Plutarch has us all on leashes. Even your *mentor* there.” Johanna looked pointedly at the communicuff on Haymitch’s wrist.

Her mockery pissed him off.

“Plutarch talked to you yesterday?” he asked Katniss.

“Yeah. He’s planning a circus, and he gave me the job of looking happy.”

“You. Happy? I would’ve cast somebody else.”

“I can do it. Since the circus is Finnick and Annie’s wedding.”

“Right. ...I’m going to walk away now and pretend I didn’t see you two... bonding.” He motioned to the IV then said to Johanna, “If she’s screaming in pain later, I’ll be ripping that port out of your arm myself.”

Sarcasm dripped along with the morphling. “Sobriety has had such a calming effect on you.”

“Something for YOU to look forward to soon.”

Johanna’s expression was steady as stone. ...Almost. Nobody would have noticed the subtle flinch, except for an addict.

“Katniss, I’ll see YOU later.” Haymitch closed the door behind him.

So the kids knew about the wedding before he did. What’s the point of wearing this *shackle* on my arm if Plutarch doesn’t tell me anything?!

Haymitch made his way back to Peeta’s room and stood in the corridor looking in through the one-way mirror. The boy was sitting at the art table which orderlies had brought in days before. Delly Cartwright was by his side. They were painting with watercolors. Peeta’s brush stroked out an ocean scene with cresting waves and sea life. With the paintbrush in his hand, Peeta was calm. In that moment, he seemed almost like himself.

The damn communicuff buzzed, and a message from Plutarch appeared on the screen. “Change of schedule. Report for exercise at 10:00. Details await you there.”

Being outdoors sounded better than being shut out by the kids or seeing them in pain. They were still alive, but they were messed up. Like me... Or worse.

Mentor. Johanna’s ridicule settled in his bones.

***

10:00—exercise The staircase to the surface had been rebuilt quickly after the bombing. The tight control in 13 produced efficiency. He’d give Coin that much credit.

Climbing the stairs was more exercise than he’d get in the yard. By the time he got to the top, he was breathing hard.

“Now that’s a familiar sound.” Effie’s voice came from the shadows and lit him up.

He moved toward her. “Me out of breath? Typical.”

“Last night...”

“Not typical. ...And more fun than this.”

He was surprised to see her. She wore a heavy coat and carried a large canvas sack over her shoulder. Additional bags and a set of leaf scoops were on the floor near her feet. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going for a walk in the woods —with you. Plutarch’s orders.”

Haymitch was confused, but too amused to not play along.

“I see you’re bringing a weapon.” He tugged at the pruners which were hooked through a belt loop on her pants. “Are you gonna protect us from carnivorous trees?”

“Just me, sweetheart. You’re going to protect yourself.” She held out a second set of pruners.

As he took them, he lingered on the fabric covering her hand. “Is this the latest fashion?”

“Cloth is more practical than lace, but must EVERY stitch of fabric here be gray or white?!” She held out a pair of work gloves for him too.

“If I’m wearing these, then how am I supposed to touch you?”

“No touching, honey. We have a project to do. Coin is giving us two hours to gather enough foliage for the district to make wedding decorations.”

“I heard her announcement asking for volunteers. I just didn’t think she was talking about me.”

“You are here at MY request.”

He took a half-step toward her. “So you’re giving me orders to spend two hours in the woods with you without touching you?” He took another half-step and felt the buzz return as their clothing brushed.

“We aren’t in the woods yet,” she said, “You can touch me now...”

The hair on his chin grazed her temple. “Where?”

Warmth flooded her. “You choose.”

He stepped back. “Sorry, sweetheart. If you get to make me a gardener for two hours, then I get to make you wait at least that long.”

“Haymitch! Don’t bother turning me on if you’re just going to make me wait!”

“Well, aren’t YOU the pot calling the kettle black. ...Am I turning you on?”

“You KNOW you are—“

“I have your trackers.” They were interrupted by a security guard, armed with an automatic rifle equipped with a spotting scope.

“Lex, this is Haymitch. He’ll be the other person accompanying us.”

“Glad to meet you,” the guard said as he lifted Effie’s pant leg to fit the tracker on her ankle.

“Wait a minute. This guy’s coming with us, AND he gets to touch you?”

“No need for envy. ...He’ll be touching YOU too.” Effie smirked.

The guard proceeded to clamp the second tracker onto Haymitch’s ankle.”

“Just what I need, another shackle.” He was tired of being treated like a prisoner, and he was sick of sobriety. Even if he could take the tracker off and leave, where would he go? His house was still standing, far away in 12, but that place was just a shell. Nearly every person he cared about who was still alive was in 13. And his duty was here. He’d been waiting his whole life for this stand.

Haymitch scowled when Lex’s hands skimmed Effie’s hip as he clipped a communicator onto her belt loop.

“Look, man, this is just standard procedure. I’m not interested in touching your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” They spoke in unison, then looked at each other.

“Sorry. I just assumed... I’ll position myself in the center of the search area. Don’t wander more than 50 yards from me in any direction.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot us?” Haymitch asked.

“It’s not our policy in 13 to shoot civilians.”

“See there, even cave people can be civilized.” Effie muttered under her breath, talking mostly to herself.

“If you move too far out of range, I’ll message you through the communicator. Stay together.”

Haymitch pulled on the gloves then picked up two canvas sacks and the leaf scoops. Stay together. For a moment, it sounded better than ‘stay alive’

***

In the weeks since the bombing, the exit from 13 into the woods had been cleared and secured. Effie was grateful to not have to crawl through bent metal and broken blocks of cement.

As she stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped her in the face. It carried the fragrance of cedar, like a hope chest, and the smell of approaching rain. Dry ground indicated that none had fallen recently, and she wondered when it would come. Hopefully not before noon! She unzipped her coat just enough to reach inside and pull her sunglasses out from the pocket of her shirt. The lenses tinted the world rose. That view was more familiar.

The guard split off from them to stand watch at the top of the ridge.

“We have three sacks. Let’s fill each one with foliage of a warm color: red, orange, and yellow.” Wasting no time, Effie marched straight into the woods, following a narrow trail.

“The High Priestess of Nature is on a mission,” Haymitch teased from behind her.

Much of the vegetation around them was foreign to him. 13 was far north from the woods he’d forayed into as a boy, breaking laws in order to spend time at the lake. Other plants were the same.

“Uh, priestess... is there poison ivy in the Capitol?”

“Poison?” She stopped in her tracks, imagining a coiling plant about to sink its fangs into her. “I don’t know. What does it look like?”

He pointed to a vine near her feet, and she leaped back, nearly knocking him over. He steadied them both with a hand on her waist.

“THAT!?” she exclaimed, “Well, EVERYTHING here looks like that!”

“Because you’re taking us into a thicket of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I AM telling you.”

“What will it do to me?” she whispered, fearing that talking too loudly might wake it up or something.

“If you don’t touch it, then nothing.”

“What if I touch it?”

“See how the leaves are shiny? That oil gets on your clothes and transfers to your skin. It gives some people a rash that itches like hell.”

“Maybe YOU should walk in front.”

“Why? So you can look at my ass?”

“Let’s call that a side benefit to the primary goal of not getting poisoned!”

He reluctantly let go of her waist, turned around, and led them out of the thicket.

They found a wider trail and followed it to a tree with large leaves, red as cranberries. Haymitch recognized it as the same variety growing behind his house. He didn’t pay much attention to that tree at home, except when it looked like this. It’s strange... a person can be around something so often but not think about how remarkable it is until it’s changing.

The wind whipped up again, and leaves were falling like rain. Effie was already scooping them up and filling the sack she’d been carrying.

“Wait,” he said, “Look...”

“What? More poison?”

He pointed to the sky, and she tilted her face up to a shower of red. She slid the sunglasses up to her forehead so she could see the true color. Thin beams of sunlight streamed through the branches. She squinted her eyes but didn’t close them.

“In the Capitol, nature is manicured — controlled. In Capitol Park, all the trees are planted the same distance apart. When leaves fall, a crew of Avoxes carts them away before the next morning. It’s nothing like this. This is wild.”

“...And familiar.” With a gloved fingertip, he touched her windburned cheeks then pulled a red leaf from the top knot of her kerchief. Over her coat he traced from her heart to the small of her back, following the path of the tattoo buried under her layers.

The memory of him holding her there the night before was a freight train barreling through her. “Ohh... this is why we agreed to not touch each other.”

“Yeah, about that... I lied.”

The leaf scoops dropped to the ground, and she interlaced her hands behind his neck. “Just for a minute, alright? Just give me a minute...” She kissed his cut lip, soft like she’d wanted to at breakfast. “Does this hurt?”

StoppIng this is what’s gonna hurt. He kissed her like when he was trying to get her out of his system. Only he knew better now, and he kissed her anyway, slow and certain.

She felt it like madness. “My hands were on my body this morning,” she murmured, “I pretended they were yours. In all the places you touched me. Haymitch... I came so fast.”

“Jesus.”

“I’m trying to control this. But...” I’ve wondered about it so long. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

In defiance of gravity, he pulled back from her. “Here’s what’s going to happen... We’ll collect the leaves, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Because if you say another word now about making yourself come, then I swear I’m going to lay you down right here—“

“And you’ll fuck me. ...Say it. Tell me you will.”

He could feel himself bending to her desires. It was unsettling, and erotic. “Yeah. I will. To hell with whoever’s watching! But it’s not just the guard. It’s probably Coin; it may be Snow; it could be anybody. I’ve already shown too much of my hand out here, and the clock is ticking.”

The reminder of Plutarch’s words and of the arena made her refocus. She caressed his neck as she let go.

They channeled the intensity into the work, meandering through the woods along animal trails. Scurrying sounds in the bushes made Effie’s heart race, but she avoided a heart attack like she evaded poison ivy.

“Scurrying things are mostly lizards, field mice, and foraging birds. The real threats are the things you DON’T hear coming.”

“WHY would you say that?! With all of the words you have to choose from in this situation, THAT is what you say to me!?!”

“I’m trying to ease your mind. Good ol’ Lex is up there watching from the ridge. We’re gonna be fine.”

They scooped and clipped foliage from a dozen trees. “Every leaf we collect must be freshly fallen or plucked from the branches. Nothing brown or decomposing is acceptable.”

“Nothing decomposing?! Who’s making these rules anyway?”

“I believe you called her ‘The High Priestess of Nature’.”

“What do you think is happening to leaves when the colors change? Poetry?”

“Maybe poetry. Why not?”

“This is a deciduous forest, sweetheart. These leaves are all dying. There’s nothing poetic about it. Death is a knife in somebody’s back or poison in her veins. And then nothing.”

“If that’s all it is, then why did you tell me to watch the leaves fall? And why did we feel so alive?”

He had no answer.

***

Returning to the fortress, Effie carried a sack across her back and the scoops in her hands. He slung the other full bags over his shoulders. Neither of them had much breath left to complain about their burdens, but they talked some.

“You’re stronger than you’ve let on.”

“I used to credit cycling classes at Capitol Spin. Now it’s endless staircase climbing in *the dungeon*.”

“What about the strength inside you? Where does that come from?”

“I... I don’t know. That’s not easy for me to feel.”

I feel it. “Thanks for getting me outside today.”

“Will you come to the dining hall this afternoon?”

“I’m all thumbs when it comes to making things like garlands. My parents’ craftiness skipped my generation.”

He seldom mentioned his family. There was so much pain there. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. But if she pushed, he shut down. So she took in his comments whenever they came and tried to piece together a picture of the early life his Games destroyed. The more the images came together, the more protective she felt.

And the more she knew of anger.

She’d always folded anger up tightly and locked it in a box. The act was subconscious. Compartmentalization was happening less readily now, if for no other reason than the boxes she’d stuffed unwanted aspects of herself inside were getting full.

“You don’t have to make anything... I’d just like to see you there.” I’m anxious about facing people.

“After lunch I need to check on the kids, but I’ll try to stop by later.”

“I wish Peeta was recovered enough to participate.”

“He’s decorating in his own way.”

“Is he??”

The trail widened, and Haymitch walked alongside her. “It’s Plutarch’s big secret. If I told you, then I’d have to kill you.” His smile was wide enough to show the gap between his teeth. “And that wouldn’t work because I want you alive.”

The wind rushed around them, and she thought again about how easy it would be to let it take her. “Keep those secrets for now. My world has suddenly become rather interesting. I think I’ll stay alive and find out what’s going to happen next.”

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botwstoriesandsuch · 5 years ago

Text

Where Time Takes Us

Destination - Part 2

- - - - - - - - - -

The public opinion of the Royal Family had dwindled compared to previous years, though that wasn’t to say everyone was against them. In fact, the establishment of divine right and intervention was very much intact in the years prior, and most folk were supportive of the projects and developments that would supposedly protect the kingdom. However, there was a stemming internal conflict between the “solemn” princess and her would-be associates and advisors. Understand, for this time period, that faith towards leaders and figureheads was a combination of their apparent strength and confidence in their duty and labour, coupled with a bit of humanity and relatability. From first hand diary documents, we can already piece together that first half of that story. As for the latter, well...

They say the Princess hadn’t even once visited the Queen’s grave.

I think that’s when they started to lose hope.

— Excerpt from Clocks and Passages, Gerudo historian, Kemisie Patel, 14 years Pre-Awakening

- - - - - - - - - -

Her mother used to do her hair, before special ceremonies like these.

Her father, well, he would always remind her of the importance of appearances, for royalty should always look dignified and strong. Even before she could walk, he would commission thousands of dresses. Tailors would customize the cloth to her every measure, with stitches etched with gold that only a king like him could afford. Then, when it was done, he would kiss her forehead and tell her she looked stunning. Stunning. The same word for every occasion. A stunning white dress. A stunning pair of boots. A stunning blue coat. For a party. A meeting. A ball. Every time, it was stunning, stunning, stunning.

Yet her mother, she would always choose her words carefully. She would take her hand and sit her down on the bed. No matter what her dress or coat, or whatever pre-prepared style she was already in, her mother would smooth out the cloth on her back, and part the hair behind her neck. She would brush and brush and brush, then braid and braid and braid. The queen would talk of simple fairy tales, or of intriguing conversations she had that day, or of interesting new facts, or of new embarrassing anecdotes that would never cease to make her daughter laugh. The princess’ hair would transform from an elaborate mess of self-inflicted ribbons and tangles to a simple, yet elegant, crown braid.

Then her mother would ask, “Do you like it?” and every time she would say yes. Of course she liked it, because her dear mother had done it, and no one else could do it better. No bun, or tie, or ribbon, or crown would compare to the touch of her mother’s fingers, weaving together her golden hair. The two of them would get up and look in the mirror. The princess’ outfit might change, but she was never surprised by her hair. Her mother would squeeze her shoulders, and rest her chin upon her head, her only concerning being the smile on her daughter’s face. Her mother would sing more words. Lovely, charming, enchanting, beguiling. Perhaps beautiful, magnificent, exquisite, or cute.

She wasn’t talking about the dress or the hair. Her words were meant for her daughter alone.

The queen would take her daughter’s hand and they would walk towards the door. Before the princess could take a step outside the room, her mother would squeeze her hand. Her sentence would start the same. “My little bird,” she would begin, her voice as sweet as honey. The queen would hold her daughter’s hand, and whisper to her little bird. Perhaps a joke to calm the nerves, or one last assurance before a ceremony. Sometimes the words were simple, and sometimes they were complex. Nonetheless, the princess would listen to her voice and smile, before finally stepping out the door.

Her mother, she would do her hair, and sing, and speak, and whisper one last thing to her little bird, before watching the princess leave. Her mother, the Queen of Hyrule, would always speak of little things.

And then she died.

And Zelda had long forgotten all the words.

The princess stood in front of the mirror, watching the woman tend to her dress. Zelda didn’t bother to look at her reflection, it would be the same as any other time. A royal blue dress, atop a snow white blouse, and all lined with gold trim, so as to match her own golden hair. She had gotten over the initial beauty of the dress a long time ago.

So instead, she looked out the window. The day had risen, its light passing through glass panes, dousing the princess’ room with its warm, yellow light. The outline of the window’s frame and design cast shadows onto the floor, capturing Zelda’s shadow in a web of thin lines.

Outside, the view was as it was yesterday: the aged grey walls of the castle exterior, pressed against a beautiful horizon of grassy fields and weathered silver peaks. From where she stood, the window was less of a view, and more of a small painting, a tiny portal of the world affixed to a sorry stack of stone bricks. With the way the sunlight hit the glass pane, the shapes of Hyrule faded into simple colors, blurred by the walls of the bedroom and her own reflection staring back at her.

There was the Princess of Hyrule, right where she belonged.

Her emerald eyes gazed back at her. They were tired.

Suddenly, the woman finished working on something at the hem of Zelda’s dress. She stood and patted her shoulder with a smile.

“All done, Your Highness. You look stunning!”

Zelda turned to look at her through the mirror. She put on a smile and said, “Thank you, Evelyn.” The princess stepped away, walking around the room.

The woman gave a little curtsy. “Can I do anything else for you while I’m here, miss?”

Zelda started to sit on her bed, resting her legs after an hour or so of standing. She shook her head.

“It’s alright, thank you. You may go.” She gave one last soft smile, for assurances. The tailor, Evelyn, gave a curtsey, and started to pack up her sewing kit, humming to herself.

Zelda turned to the nightstand beside her bed. It was a clutter of papers, notes, and ink, although it was nothing compared to her desk on the other end of the room. Brushing them into a neat pile, the princess opened the drawer under it.

It held two things. One was a soft, velvet pillow, holding a golden diadem, woven like vines. The detailed indentations in the metal were crafted with care and precision, and the perfectly symmetrical gold bands wove towards the front, where it cradled three ruby gemstones. The diadem was meant to be an elegant headpiece, displaying the grace and power of the Hyrulean Family.

The second thing in the drawer was a stuffed horse.

Mr. Roberts was flopped on his side, his crudely made glasses askew on his snout. The horse was fluffy, a solid tan brown, with white socks and a pink nose. The yarn that made his flowing, blond mane was splayed out against the plain oak wood of the drawer.

Zelda propped him up, fixing his glasses, before patting him on his head. Mr. Roberts, afterall, was a respected keeper of the quills, who was paid with nightly cuddles. He had been in his position for nearly 16 years, a life-time partner with the princess herself. This was why he had the honor of being kept by the nightstand whenever visitors came, instead of shoved hurriedly under the bed, like all her other stuffed animals.

Her smile came and went like a breeze. Zelda sighed. She patted Mr. Roberts once more, then pushed him a bit further to the back of the drawer. The princess then took out the diadem, placing it snuggly on her head to push back her golden locks.

No braids today, as was father’s request.

At the thought of this, Zelda got to her feet.

He only said 20 minutes, right?

Let’s see… the guardian is just in the courtyard downstairs. Later, I could probably use the Champions as an excuse… they’ve been here a few hours, maybe? The ceremony is just a bit past noon… and if I use the stairs unconventionally...

Zelda’s eyes lit up for the first time all morning. Still standing by her bed, she cleared her throat and spoke swifty.

“Actually, Evelyn? Sorry, but there is one more thing.” As she spoke, she started to walk across the room towards her desk, about to begin a daring search amongst the avalanche of papers, books, fancy pens, and quills.

The woman had just about finished up packing her needles, fabric, and other tools into her small kit. She held it in one hand as she tilted her head curiously at the princess.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“If you see my father, or anyone else due to the Champion Ceremony, just pass along a reminder that I’m not coming to the rehearsal beforehand.”

“Of course.” Evelyn observed the princess continue to hopelessly tumble through the mess of papers and books on her desk. “A busy day for you, miss?”

“Of sorts...”

Finally, she found it. Feeling the familiar brush of old leather at her fingertips, Zelda pulled out one of her journals from the wreckage of notes and ink. She really needed to find a better way to organize these things. Flipping through the pages, she found that this was indeed research journal number 27, with half of the pages still blank and ripe for the writing.

She turned to the tailor once more, clutching the journal to her chest. “If my father asks anymore questions about my whereabouts, just tell him I was delivering the Champion’s gifts myself. Otherwise, you can be sure I’ll still be at the sanctum at least 20 minutes early, just as he asked!”

The tailor hesitantly started the motion of a nod in agreement, but the princess didn’t stick around to see it finish. Zelda gave Evelyn an honest smile, before rushing out the door. The woman was left there, scratching the back of her head in concern.

Pushing open the double doors, the princess started to run through the hallway. Well, it was more of a half run, half walk. A jog if you will. It was difficult enough to walk around in heels, much less sprint across the carpet floor.

Curses, I should have brought a change of boots.

Zelda continued her journey through the corridors, hastily passing by the guards who wore slightly confused expressions under their thick helms.

Even though Zelda had left her room in a rush, as soon as she saw the drifting shadows of other Hylians at the end of the hallway, she slowed her pace. Guards were one thing, but other influential people, who might not know how to hold their tongue, was another. Turning the corner, she allowed the voice of her father and other nobility from her life to amplify.

Keep your head high. Don’t slouch. Look straight ahead. Don’t adjust your hair. Don’t attend to an itch. Don’t run. Hands folded, not crossed. Stride and be dignified. Look straight ahead. Look straight ahead.

She looked at their faces, walking through the hallway, she couldn’t help but notice the sudden quieting volume as people turned to look at her. Zelda didn’t know exactly who they were. Sons, daughters, brothers, or mothers of some nobles serving her father? It didn’t matter, she could already feel the pit in her stomach telling her that they saw right through her.

This specific corridor was basked in light, with open archways allowing the sunlight to drip through, and cast soft shadows onto the opposing wall. It was a small group of people, their clothing varying from large, simple gowns to sleek, suave coats. From the looks of it, they were just chatting amongst themselves as they enjoyed the morning breeze.

At least, they had been chatting, but now those conversations were reduced to faint whispers amongst a fragile silence.

Look straight ahead. Focus. Look straight ahead. Focus. Just...move forward.

Zelda began to walk calmly through the corridor, the noblemen and women giving curt bows and curtseys before turning back to their companions. Some continued to stare at her with blank, neutral faces, their expressions giving no indication of their emotions or opinions, which only fed Zelda’s growing anxiety.

Look straight ahead. Pay no mind. Look ahead.

The princess continued to walk. Her destination was so close, but the muttering and whispers seemed to tangle and trip her thoughts, making the journey towards the end of the hall seem like an eternity. It was as if the moment Zelda passed by them, these people took it as their cue to continue their not-so-silent conversations.

“...yeah, that’s the…...too young for…...but sixteen is a long time…”

“...spends all day with those…...His Majesty doesn’t like that…...no powers….”

“...can’t even do…..her duty…..a shame...”

Zelda took a deep breath, trying to drown out the whispers. Look ahead. Focus. Look ahead. Focus.

She snuck a quick glance at a man with curly brown hair, he seemed to tower above her when she passed him by. He cocked an eyebrow, before turning back to his partner.

Ahead. Focus. Ahead. Posture. Dignified. Strong...

“...expects us to…...and respect…...what throne will she even…”

“...inherits…...downfall…...nothing…”

“..…..she doesn’t even….so spoiled…”

“...running away…...even from simple things…”

They were just words. Simple words. Little words. Forget it forget it forget it.

Zelda finally reached the end and turned the corner, practically sprinting towards the staircase once she was alone. She didn’t even care if they could hear her echoing footsteps, she just didn’t want to be close enough to hear any laughter.

The princess pushed open a wooden door, leading her to the stairwell. Hearing it close behind her, Zelda finally allowed herself to breathe. Her shaky breaths slowly returning to normal with each passing moment.

Alone at the top of a stairwell, the princess’ short breaths echoed, and over time, they finally melded into a final, deep sigh.

“And…” Zelda clasped her hands together taking in the room, “...we’re good.”

Regaining her composure, Zelda looked down through the spiral staircase. The carefully chiseled stone walls housed intricate designs, but the railing of the stairwell was thick and smooth.

It was perfect for… “being punctual.”

An unconscious smile made its way onto Zelda’s lips, as she propped herself up onto the railing. Then, clutching the excess of her dress in her fist, the princess allowed her momentum to fall to the side, as she slid down the spiral staircase.

The faintest sound of a laugh escaped her, even though she tried to hold her tongue. The last time she did this, a guard had heard her and berated the princess for doing something so reckless. Her father would later agree, bringing up the fact that doing such an act had caused dust and grime to accumulate on the “not so pleasant area” of her dress.

Holy Hylia, just say “butt,” Father.

Yet by that point, she had become too addicted to the childlike amusement and wonder that filled her. So here she was, a few years later after that incident, doing one of the few disobedient things in her life. It was thrilling in some sense, yet on the other hand… a bit pathetic. However in those precious, precious few moments, the princess didn’t really care.

A couple dozen steps later, Zelda’s feet landed in front of the door of paradise. It was her paradise, anyhow. The wooden door had a glass pane window, housing three golden triangles that cast splashes of color onto the stone floor as the sunlight drizzled through.

Quickly attempting to brush off any dust on her dress, Zelda took another breath and walked out into her world.

It was noisy, and chaotic, and bustling, and wonderful. The playful breeze seemed to be tugging her towards the scene.

She finally let her smile show.

The bright blue sky was pierced with metal and wood, the thin brown lines of scaffolding, ladders, and ropes held Guardians and other Sheikah technology in the air. There were glows of orange and blue, blurs of grey and silver, and of course the dazzle of a familiar Sheikah red eye, painted on some of the hanging banners and on the clothing of various Sheikah.

Someone must have been burning coal again, the scent of smoke whirling towards Zelda. As the princess started walking around, she looked around, admiring the progress that the workers were making.

There was a strange charge in the air, something that mixed the feelings of lightning and excitement, and the feeling wasn’t just from her. Bustling by her, men and women alike rushed passed with beaming faces, arms full of paper and ink.

No one was whispering or standing still—serenity and silence were in the realm of myth. The air echoed with the whirr of machinery, and the occasional shouts of conversation between Sheikah kneeling under Guardians and atop the tallest scaffolding. Zelda saw how nonchalantly one man lay next to a Guardian head, seemingly ignorant to the fact that it could vaporize him at any second. She would have judged him for his recklessness, before the thought came to her that she had probably done the exact same thing several times. She snorted to herself.

Suddenly, a girl with white hair bumped into the princess’ shoulder, causing her to drop her journal. The Sheikah girl and Zelda started to exchange apologies, but not before the girl hastily grabbed onto her box of screws and metal scrapes, the contents a few half-seconds away from spilling onto the grass. Luckily, her reflexes avoided such a fate, and the girl let out a sigh of relief.

“Apologies, Princess.” The Sheikah girl attempted to give a little curtsey, but was more concerned with the well being of her materials than the quality of her manners.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have stood in the middle of the path, should I?” Zelda gestured to the other scurrying Sheikah around them, before moving off to the side.

“Well, nonetheless, Your Highness, it didn’t help on my end to have my vision be impaired.” The girl used a free hand to readjust her grip on the stack of supplies that piled up past her nose.

Zelda let out an easy smile. Picking up her journal from the ground, Zelda took this opportunity to get some info without bothering any of the other busy researchers.

“Do you happen to know where they relocated that Skywatcher Guardian? The one Robbie was working on?”

“Ah right, Dr. Robbie’s latest monstrosity... The one that collapsed last night, correct? It’s by the Southeast—no wait, Southwest Waterfall. For safety reasons, I believe.” With one free hand, she made an explosion gesture with her fingers

“Kaboom!”

Zelda shook her head with a chuckle. “It’s not gonna blow up. We haven’t even installed the propellor motors, much less the power core.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, before turning back around to continue to her destination. “Oh? Well tell that to the guards.”

“What? Did someone work on it?”

The Sheikah shrugged. “I don’t know, I was working my other job in Castle Town. All I know is that the workload for the Skywatcher thing has been greatly lifted. Supposedly someone was able to give it a new surge of power. So the typical guards have been assigned, you know, to keep the potential fires in check and all that…”

Another heave of her box of supplies, and the girl started back on her path.

“Be seeing ya, Princess!” said the Sheikah girl. As she walked, she started humming some faintly familiar tavern tune.

Zelda thought to herself, gears turning in her head, as she truly started getting into a ‘researcher’s mindset,’ as her father had called it.

What did she say? Southwest Waterfall? Well, no better place to prevent fires and explosions.

With new vigor, Princess Zelda walked deeper into the realm of ancient metal.

A blur of gold and blue made its way through the courtyards. Occasionally, a wandering Sheikah would turn and greet the princess, but for the most part, they would leave the girl to her devices, literally and figuratively, as they were used to Her Highness tinkering away at the various machinery. It wasn’t like any of them cared, so long as nothing got in the way of their own work.

In a sense, it was this very mindset that truly made Zelda feel at ease. There was no beating around a sacred bush, no dance or choreography to learn, no rules to conversation, or guidelines for the way to blink. The Sheikah here just...were. They did their jobs, worked towards their task, and would generally just act like normal people.

Of course, on occasion when Zelda stopped to ask a question, their tones would change from casual to professional. A simple question like, “Is everything running smoothly?” would get responses that typically ended with, “But of course, Your Highness,” accompanied by a deep and humble bow. However, the exhausting formalities were more an issue of Sheikah attempting not to embarrass themselves, rather than something along the lines of them sucking up, or wearing a polite mask just to whisper behind her back. It was this breath of fresh air that would make the princess forever grateful for their company.

Eventually, Zelda made her way to the Skywatcher Guardian. It was easy enough to identify, given that it was a lot more...intact than usual.

Above, a sparkling waterfall rushed against stone walls, before it crashed into a large lake, where the water stilled, shimmering quietly. Surrounding the waterfall, the courtyard's green grass melded with a brick path, atop which different types of Guardians stood. Large, rotating Sentries; clambering, scurrying Stalkers; and, most notable, a single Skywatcher, laid out on its side beside the pond.

These types were still new. Robbie supposedly only got it to fly for an hour before its power began to dwindle. Yet now, the Skywatcher was humming with life. Even laid on its side, with the propellers detached, the Guardian’s head swiveled in search of an absent enemy.

It was incredible really. Just last night, it was a heap of metal and screws. Compared to then, the Guardian was not only repaired, but its functionality was restored beyond that of which Zelda and Robbie had left it.

That’s funny...that nobleman wouldn’t stop talking my ears off about how his son got a bruise when the Guardian collapsed into bits and pieces.

She shook her head, cringing at the memory of having to apologize to someone after their kid broke one of the machines essential to the protection of Hyrule.

But, at least you’re all good now. Zelda thought to herself, moving to pat the Skywatcher’s hull with a smile. Oh, you’re a beautiful one, huh? Look at all your glowing lights and chiseled design! And is that a new lens I see? Oooo and your propellers here are all polished! Wouldn’t want grime and gunk in the gears, would you? No, no you wouldn’t... You sure are a fancy little guy aren’t y—

“...Your Highness?”

Zelda jumped, her mind snapping back to reality. Whipping around, she turned to face a Hylian guard, her helm tucked under one arm. She was stoically holding a spear, but the look on her face was of thinly veiled confusion.

The princess cleared her throat, slightly sheepish. “Yes? What is it?”

The guard shifted her weight, her blonde braid falling to the side. “Well…I’ve been ordered to keep unauthorized people from touching the Guardians. We haven’t had an explosion yet, here in the Activation Zone, and I’m sure we would all like to keep it that way—”

The princess quickly held up a hand, irritation starting to form in place of the embarrassment she felt moments ago. “Wait, are you saying I’m an unauthorized person?”

“Your father said....especially and specifically for today…”

Ah. Right… Of course he would say that.

Zelda finally sighed, compliant. “Alright, I understand. Thank you. But could you tell me why exactly this one was moved here to Activation?” She took out her journal, beginning to jot down observations and notes on the Skywatcher. “Just last night, I had people complain to me for hours about its collapse, and now all of the sudden it's already being actively tested? What happened to the ‘only authorized people’ rule?”

The guard suddenly looked away, not that Zelda noticed. “Uhhh...it was worked on sometime last night and super early morning.” She played with her blonde braid, brushing it against her metal gauntlet. “That Dr. Kimura? Sh—HE was one of the head scientist guys, so it was under jurisdiction.”

Zelda nodded her head in understanding, still jotting away at the paper. Then, the princess suddenly closed her journal with a snap, clutching it to her chest. She moved a bit closer to the Guardian, angling herself to be just in front of the opening at its top, where all the mechanism and components lie.

Then, she bent her legs and started jumping up and down.

The guard’s face was full of concern and confusion. “Um...Princess…?”

“I’m not touching it! I’m just—” her eyes started to widened, as she got a better peak inside, “Ooo, that’s a new feature, what kind of properties does—” But the guard couldn’t quite hear the rest of her sentence, given that it was continuously cut off with each hop she took.

Zelda finally finished jumping, although it was from her curiosity being satisfied, and not from the guard’s efforts to stop her. The princess started again to write down notes in her journal.

“A giant ancient core! I didn’t know we had unearthed more of those. It does transfer the needed energy to the propellers faster than a standard core.” She continued hurriedly scratching away at the pages of her journal. “Smart! I honestly should have thought of it sooner. I’ll have to thank Robbie later.”

“Right…”

For the better part of an hour, Zelda continued to sit by the lake and continue her research. As irritating as it was to not be allowed to touch things, Zelda was content with the opportunity to focus on writing down her theories and thoughts. Personally, she’d have preferred some music, but, well...he wasn’t here right now. Probably off trying to keep Robbie and Purah from wreaking too much havoc.

Music aside, the princess was still much at comfort, here beside the looming Skywatcher. The rushing of the waterfall, the ambience of distant conversation, and the patter of Sheikah metal, it all culminated in a setting that made her feel right at home. Despite the entirety of the castle technically being hers, the feeling was actually something that couldn’t come often enough…

But, like seemingly every enjoyable thing in her life, it ended far too soon.

Behind her, the guard suddenly moved closer to lean down. “Your Highness.”

“Mmm?” Zelda didn’t bother to look up at her, still flipping through her pages.

“You...have a guest.”

Zelda scoffed to herself, already forming a prediction of who it might be as she got on her feet.

Father said twenty minutes early. The ceremony doesn’t start for another 38, I’m fine. If I could just show him my progress here so far, then he’ll have to—

As the princess turned to face the person in question, the words she was about to let out of her mouth suddenly caught in her throat.

Oh.

He wasn’t actually looking at her at that moment. His eyes were distant, caught up with the view of the Sanctum at the apex of the castle. His blue eyes were bright and cold, while his stupidly perfect blond hair flowed with the New Year's wind. Winter hadn’t hadn’t yet fully surrendered to the Spring, but the air was still crisp enough to warrant her to wear the long sleeve dress. Yet, the boy stood with nothing but his leather boots, pants, and a beige and grey tunic. The fact that he never shivered was just another infuriatingly perfect thing about him.

That, and the fact that he seemed to take every waking moment to show off that sword, an imposing reminder that he was better than her in every way.

Zelda cleared her throat, getting his attention. “What can I do for you, knight?” She said the last word with a tone equal to that of how one might talk to the squished remains of a spider.

The boy turned to face her, the tips of his ears slightly pink. He put up his hands in front of his chest, the sword on his back shifting with the movement. The boy gave a look towards the princess, as if asking for permission.

Ah, right. No words…

The princess couldn’t quite understand it. Five years ago, when a twelve year old Link had first found the sword, he spoke with ease. No oath of silence had stopped him from chatting it up with her and her father. He was awfully loud, especially when exclaiming to his father, Captain Leon of the royal guard, his excitement about the “cool sword” he found. In those days, Link would pester her, about the epic battle they were fated to, about the legends and Beasts and prophecy. And it was his excitement and determination that had earned her the reputation.

The lazy one. The distracted one. The powerless one, doomed to a throne of nothing. The perfect knight, and the failing heir. The gleeful boy and the silent princess.

Well, at least she wasn’t the silent one anymore.

So now those five years had passed, they had barely spoken since those days. Of course, that boy, the wielder of the Sword That Seals The Darkness, of course he would find a way to ruin her day even without opening his mouth. Finally, Zelda let out a huff, acknowledging Link.

“Hylian Sign… yes, well. I’m a bit rusty, but so long as you don’t start telling me your entire life story I should be fine. Go on.”

He nodded, his expression painfully neutral. The knight began to move his hands, bending his fingers in different motions.

‘Your father asked me to look after you, before the ceremony began. Then I could escort you there. Practice for next week when I actually…’ he paused, thinking of his next gesture, ‘when I actually start accompanying you.”’

The princess couldn’t hide her scoff. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way to the Sanctum, thank you very much.” She crossed her arms. “You can head there on your own, and tell the king that I’m fine. Frankly, I’m trying to enjoy my last few days of personal space.”

Zelda started the motion of spinning around and sitting back on the ground, but out of the corner of her eye she caught Link moving his hands once again.

‘I can wait here, until you’re finished, if you wish.’

She sighed, shaking her head. The princess gave a sort of halfhearted nod, as if to say “Fine, do whatever you want.” Although her distaste for the situation was made clear, given she sat back on the ground in a loud and stern demeanour.

Zelda started flipping through her journal again, trying to find where she left off. Yet, she hadn’t been writing for a full minute before she could feel it. She could feel him looking at her.

The guard was one thing, she was doing her job, and if they had something to say they would speak their mind at the princess’ command. Link, on the other hand, his stare was different. It was more similar to something like the stare she had felt in the corridor that day, although ten times worse given his eyes were guaranteed to be stoic and neutral.

Zelda wouldn’t stare him back, instead, she looked at the reflection of the lake. The water rippled slightly, the waterfall crashing in the distance. She could see the reflection of Link standing tall, and looking in the direction she was sitting. In the water, she could see his eyes. His gaze didn’t see her in the water, but the look was enough to get Zelda’s mind turning.

He thinks I’m pathetic.

Granted, he wouldn’t be the first.

Link had taken off his sword, propping it on the ground, sheath and all, as a sort of armrest. He set his elbows on the handle and continued to wait and watch. It was like some parent watching their toddler, making sure they didn’t hurt themselves. He probably thinks I’m a brat, how rich...

Although, Zelda was slightly hesitant at this theory, given that the way he was looking at her direction was so… soft. More warm than his typically glassy gaze.

Ah...

Pity.

Zelda laughed to herself. He pities the poor princess, the stupid girl who can’t figure out her destiny. The pathetic heir wasting her time with Guardians.

It all came so easy for him, it took him no time at all. What am I to him, some strange anomaly? An injured calf in the field? His destiny is held back by my struggles, and now he pities me for it. I’d like to see how he would act if he felt as useless as I.

Zelda continued to furiously scribble in her journal, but her thoughts continued to flow, one after another.

He doesn’t just pity me.

He hates me.

But on the bright side, the feelings he has for me are mutual.

Barely a minute passed, before the anxiety in Zelda’s head grew too much to bear. Was this really going to happen everyday now?

Finally, she let out a groan. In one swift motion she got to her feet, snapped her journal shut, and started marching towards the nearest entrance. Passing Link, she mumbled under her breath something slightly graphic concerning Guardians, skewers, and eyes.

Her mutters continued as she trudged towards the castle interior. She was about halfway there when she realized the only footsteps she heard were her own. Zelda turned around, finding that Link was still where he was moments ago, standing timidly, his stance hesitant to move.

“Well, are you coming?”

Link scratched the back of his head, then blinked. He picked up his sword, slung it back around him, and started to jog towards her. He was like a puppy, bounding up to their owner, only the analogy truly merged with reality given that Link seemed to be the type to only move when following orders. Spirits above, this was gonna be annoying. Zelda let out another sigh.

The two of them made their way back inside the castle. Weaving through the hallways, Zelda led the two of them up closer and closer to their destination. However, Link seemed to prefer walking five steps behind her. She tried to busy her hands, smoothing out her hair and her dress, but she couldn’t shake the swarm of thoughts in her head every time she saw the edge of Link’s shadow behind her.

Suddenly, Zelda stopped in the middle of the hall, speaking bluntly.

“If you’re really trying to live up to the knightly protection schtick, at the very least walk next to me so I don’t feel as creeped out.”

The knight blinked, then gave a nod. Once again, no reaction whatsoever. He awkwardly shuffled beside her, still with some distance between then, so that they stood at opposite ends of the width of the hall.

Zelda slumped her shoulders, but was ultimately satisfied with the situation. She continued down the hallways.

Minutes passed, then moments, then eternities. The end of each corridor couldn’t come fast enough. Although she had purposely chosen the route that ran into as little people as possible, there was a weird charge in the air given the dense silence between them.

Occasionally, she would mention something out of politeness, the typical dance of conversation. “How was your day?” and “The weather’s been weird,” and all that garbage. It didn’t help that he wasn’t much for conversation. The most he contributed to the conversation was asking why they were taking this route, as it wasn’t the quickest way to the Sanctum. Zelda gave him a blunt answer, as if to give him his own medicine, “I have an errand beforehand.”

More minutes passed, then moments, then centuries. Zelda continued to fidget with the edge of her sleeve, while Link continued his perfect silence.

The princess snuck a glance in his direction. He walked with purpose, matching her speed, but not daring to lead the way. He was watching the cycle of his steps on the floor. His face… his eyes.... It wasn't boredom. It wasn’t tiredness. He was just, blank.

She could still remember that young boy, excitedly asking her about the powers of Hylia, and glowing swords. Had he really grown out of that so quickly? Had he already managed to push down his childish ways for the sake of his duty?

Next to him, Zelda was an utter failure.

“Let me ask you something, hero. What are they going to remember you by?”

The words escaped her before she could register the noise, and the sudden sound made the boy’s posture stiffen in an instant. Link tilted his head askew in a quizzical nature.

“Me, I’ve worked my entire life to try to be something worthwhile. Today alone, I’ve worked to make my research impactful and worthwhile. I’ve had my speech for the Champion’s ceremony handcrafted to portray a desired image. My father had my dress tailor-made to something he approved of, and I work every damn day to live up to the role as the wielder of the Sealing power.”

She let out a sad sigh. “Even if it isn’t exactly the positive legacy I wanted, there is still something that people know me for.

“The solemn heir. The tired princess. Don’t you agree?”

Zelda looked at his face, trying to see some sort of reaction in his eyes.

Nothing.

She pushed further.

“Would you like another example? Well, everyone knows this tale. A young knight wanders into the woods, woods that sap your spirit and carry corpses into creeks. But instead of a fate of death, the boy found his fate in a sword, ‘for his heart was too pure to yield to the forces of evil.’ Sound about right?”

He didn’t react. The rate in which they walked slowed just barely.

“But that is just the start. The fairytale, if you will. Now, the knight becomes a truly talented and masterful swordsman. The image he gives off is of perfection and grace.” She waved her hand in an exaggerated manner. “Supposedly, that would be the end of it. That’s all we need to know.”

Then, Zelda stopped in the corridor, looking out one of the stained glass windows.

“Yet once—” she chuckled, although the laugh didn’t meet her eyes, “Once upon a time, I met a boy. He liked swords and chocolate, horses and fruit. He liked the woods, and talking, and dogs, and stories. I know because one day he and I talked, just the two of us. It was nice, but he told me something strange.”

She turned to face Link directly. “He told me he was confused. He told me he didn’t understand some of the new changes in his life. He told me he was...something along the lines of nervous.

“I told him I felt the same, for you see, the person in my life who was supposed to guide me, they were gone. This boy and I, we were in the same boat, which didn’t often happen in my life.”

She stepped closer to him, her shadows growing along the opposite wall. “I told him that if I ever found out how to stop being confused, how to figure out everything, I would tell him. And he told me the same.

“But then that boy vanished, and instead I met a knight. The perfect, dashing knight from the fairy tales…”

Zelda was less than a foot away from him now, looking at his eyes.

“...and I never spoke to that boy again. Although in a sense, I’m glad. I never found the answer he was looking for.” As she said this, she looked away, breaking her gaze.

The princess looked out the window again, while the hero continued to stare at her, unmoving. After a moment, she spoke again.

“So I ask, how should I remember you then? Who are you going to be, the knight, or the boy? I’d like to at least know that before you once again start shoving your way into my life.”

A pause, a tension in the air that could form storms, but for now it was as still as the surface of a pond. Both of them waited for an answer to appear. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

Finally, he raised his arms, meeting her eyes with a strange new light.

‘I plan to be whatever is needed of me.’

Another silence, but more fragile than the last. Finally, the thoughts in her head crashed together like the end of a waterfall. Zelda let out a deep sigh, before storming off down the rest of the hallway.

Perfect answer from the perfect hero. What else did I expect?

Still storming off, Zelda’s thoughts fluttered through her head. No, not just thoughts. Words. They echoed and bounced around in her head. Her words, her father’s, Link’s...words? Expressions? What do you even call them—

In her haste, Zelda nearly bumped into a large, basil green Zora. He looked down at her, puzzled, while she mumbled out apologies.

Moving past him, Zelda took in the room around her.

They had reached the main hall.

It was draped with velvet and gold, along with bright blue banners, and stained glass ceilings. More decorated that usual given today’s events. Unlike in times past, different races other than Hylians bustled across the floor. Sheikah, Rito, Zora, Gorons, Gerudo, they moved with purpose, and intent. They all knew where they were going, and where everyone else was going, up, up to the Sanctum.

Behind her, Link finally caught up. Zelda slumped her shoulders, but was ultimately glad she wouldn’t have to chase him down later. She eyed one of the ornate doors beside one of the windows, before gesturing to Link with a hand. “Well, come on then. Let’s go meet the others.”

The Sanctum is just upstairs, I’ve got 30 minutes, so 10 minutes to talk with the rest of the Champions. We’re good, we’re good...I don’t need to pay the people here any mind...

The figure of Link out of the corner of her eye pierced through her thoughts. Seeing the raised eyebrow on Link’s face as they walked, Zelda spoke in a lowly tone.

“Whatever your stance on knights and stories are, the rest of the world prefers the fairytales. They want links between the storybooks and reality, some symbol of perfection to ease their minds, to tell them that it won’t all end in failure. So come.”

Zelda paused, turning to face him directly. She looked up and down at Link’s outfit, a typical beige and grey knight’s tunic, with dark pants and boots. Then, she continued towards her destination with new vigor.

“There is something I need to give you all.”

#reblogs appreciated!#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #where time takes us #botw fanfiction #link #link botw #zelda #zelda botw #zelink

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aghostfromtheages · 5 years ago

Text

Damned Devotion

This is a little self indulgent project I was motivated to work on after my last play through of the Witcher (I needed some OlgierdxReader). It takes place over four chapters which are being posted on AO3. I will include the link in a comment on this post. (Edit: 2/4 chapters now up on AO3)

You meet the same man four different times.

Your grandmother's fairytales never went like this.

Chapter 1: Once

The water was cold.

Cold enough to make you falter as you stepped into the river. The current was more gentle here than upstream, nearer your new home, more languid. It tugged softly at you as it passed, washing the last remnants of sleep from your body. Your dream was not shrugged off so easily. Though you barely remembered it, the feeling it left you with haunted you still. Empty. Cold. Maybe all those stories about your grandmother having elf-blood weren’t so far fetched. You slipped under the surface briefly, wetting your hair. Telling portents, predicting the gender of a child; your grandmother had been known for her small magicks. More luck than anything, or so your mother insisted.

You remembered little from your dream, or had it been a nightmare? Boars filled your cottage, spilling from the front door, trampling your garden. There was blood, a storm of snow, and a man with fiery red hair and eyes like flint. The rest was a half-forgotten muddle. You ran your hands over the flat river stones. If you had inherited any of your grandmother’s fortune-telling ability, you couldn’t imagine what your dream could signify.

Morning sun dappled the water and nearby bank, burning up the veil of mist that still hung about the river. Your body having finally adjusted to the cool water, you swam leisurely upstream.

When you saw the man, your breath caught in your throat. He was different from your dream, clutching his side and leading his horse. His eyes were shrewd and sharp, not quite the flinty coldness that pierced your dreams. You had never seen such eyes before. Dropping yourself into the water, you peered through the reeds as he attempted to forge the river, nervous horse in tow.

"Lost, are you?" Your curiosity overcame your hesitancy, and you called out, hiding your nakedness as best you could beneath the water.

Your words stopped the man in his tracks, thigh-deep in the river, mere meters from you. He loosened his grip on his horse’s reins and drew a long curved blade from a sash belted about his waist. He swung it lazily, searching for the origin of your voice as he steadied himself.

"Now now, if you are some vila or nixie trying to tempt me, you'd best search elsewhere." He swept the blade through the reeds mere feet from where you sat, continuing forward. "I won't be easy prey."

You wheeled back, splashing into the shallows of the river, narrowly escaping the arc of the blade, exclaiming in irritation.

The man's horse, a disheveled looking bay, jerked in surprise at your movement, pulling the reins from its master’s hand. Quickly, you plucked your clothing from the bank, wishing to protect any modesty you had left. You peered over your shoulder as the man struggled to calm his mount. "I am no water witch," you said indignantly, as you pulled on a tunic. "And I would not wait around to banter with local men if I was one."

The man shushed his horse, eyes slipping from your half-naked form to the other bank and back, finally running up your body and settling on your eyes. He set a hand tenderly on his bloodied side again.

“Of course,” his tone betrayed the sarcasm underlying the propriety of his speech. “Maids often spend their mornings bathing naked in forest streams.” He sucked in a strained breath, trying hard to look unaffected, though you could see fresh blood had seeped through the brocade of his coat.

"Do you know in which direction the closest township lays?"

"Brunwich is not half a day by foot. Much faster by horse, I'm sure." You paused and then added, "My lord." Surreptitiously, if only for your own safety, as he appeared dressed in the most expensive, but worn, finery. You'd not lived there long, so you had not had time to become familiar with the local manors and families.

He looked in the direction you point and nodded in agreement, but did not contradict the title you’d given him nor allowed you his name. Instead, he added, rather diffidently, “And the nearest healer?”

You flicked the water from your trousers with a practiced snap. “Why... you almost beheaded her.”

The man lifted his chin. He had the good graces to look somewhat remorseful. “Apologies, for my… ah, impulsive reaction. Although...” he frowned, “it is unusual to find a woman so at ease this far from town…”

Having finally pulled on the rest of your clothing, you unsheathed a very large hunting knife from the belt at your waist. As if in answer, you brandished it with no small amount of deftness. “Now, we can stand here and exchange pleasantries all day, or I can try and keep you from attracting drowners with all that blood you’re feeding into the river.” Without waiting for a response, you bent to collect the riverside herbs you had previously harvested and motioned him forward. “You’re lucky I called out to you.”

Back at the small cottage you called home, the bay horse wandered your garden, while crow calls echoed from freshly plowed fields nearby. Inside, you gingerly peeled away the man’s once white undershirt, revealing deep lacerations that spanned his chest and ribs. You placed your fingers lightly on the oozing wound, causing the man to flinch and groan. Despite the large quantity of blood, the wound appeared clean and fairly surface level, only having reached past the muscle to the rib bones in a couple of spots. For all the damage, it must have been a glancing blow.

“I’ll need to clean the wound and then stitch some of the deeper lacerations closed. I have some fresh beggartick blossom for the pain-” The man grunted, interrupting you.

“Tch, I appreciate your concern, but-” he flinched, knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the table, as you poured vodka over the wound, “-I would prefer to be fully lucid.” You raised your brow, but said nothing as you rinsed your hands and then cauterized the needle for suturing. Making quick work threading the needle, you gently placed a hand against the man’s chest and began your stitching. His body was etched in old scars. They seemed synonymous with battle wounds one would find on a soldier. You remember seeing similar scars on a cadaver in one of the medical classes at the Academy. Another hint to your patient’s background. You frowned.

“And what, pray tell, caused such a wound? The townspeople should know if there are horrors haunting their forest.”

“A big fucking bear.” Before you could stop him, he took a swig from the distilled vodka. “My band and I came upon it in the middle of a hunt. I was trying to find my way to Brunwich after getting separated from them when I found you.”

“It would seem we have very differing opinions on who found who.” You snipped the trailing ends off of the silk suture before stepping back to regard your work.

The man gave a low whistle, "My, my, you are a damn skilled woman." The stitches were not too tight, not too loose, some of your best work. He ran a thumb lightly over the thread.

Smiling, you gently swatted his hand away while you worked to apply a salve of yarrow and calendula to the area, before bandaging. "Well, I didn't spend all that time at the Academy without learning a few things."

"Is that so? I have naught to pay you with now…"

You looked the man over as you tidied your supplies. "I figured not. I am new to this part of the province, so the least you could tell me is your name."

The man slowed in his dressing, as if surprised at the question. "Of course… I'm Olgierd von Everec." He hesitated, and then continued past your lack of reaction. "My family owned a manor house not far from here… Or rather, used to."

So, a disgraced lord then. That explained a few things.

You watched him finish dressing out of the corner of your eye. He held himself with the easy confidence of someone born into nobility, yet he moved with the measure of someone with martial experience. You followed him out the door, to where his horse grazed in a patch of clover.

"I will repay you." He promised, holding your gaze as he did at the river. You nodded to placate him, patting the nose of his horse as he pulled himself into the saddle. He wouldn’t be the first customer to stiff you on payment.

Standing in your garden you watched as Olgierd von Everec spurred his horse into a gallop, jumped the fence at the edge of the road and finally disappeared past the turn at the crossroads.

The summer wore on. You settled into your life as a herbalist and healer, receiving visitors that came as far as Oxenfurt. Your dreams no longer bothered you, and you started to forget about your encounter with the remarkable man at the river.

Weeks later you found a basket at your door. Inside was a small pouch, containing seven crowns and a fresh bottle of vodka. Underneath it, folded in half, laid a bear pelt.

#the witcher #the witcher wild hunt #olgierd von everec #Olgierd x reader #the witcher video game #hearts of stone #fanfiction #my writing

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fairfowl · 4 years ago

Text

Dress For the Weather (ch 2/2)

It wasn’t really a surprise, he hadn't slept well since Ben had--How could you say a person had died when they had been technically dead for two decades?--Since Ben had disappeared? Gone into the light?

Left Klaus alone.

+-+-+-+

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Klaus allowed himself to be led upstairs by Diego. They abandoned their snacks on the desk before Klaus sat on the bed, saying nothing as Diego wrapped the comforter around his shoulders like the mother hen that he was.

As his brother marched off to find the thermometer Klaus allowed himself to roll his eyes, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest as he realized that Ben was no longer around to comment on his brattiness.

He hunched into himself, scooting back to where the bed met the wall and curled up.

Earlier—when it had still been afternoon—Klaus had noticed something off. He’d been tired, even more so than usual, and achy. It wasn’t really a surprise, he hadn't slept well since Ben had-

How could you say a person had died when they had been technically dead for two decades?

Since Ben had disappeared? Gone into the light?

Left Klaus alone.

He knew it wasn’t fair to blame Ben for that. He’d had no obligation to stay, and in leaving he’d saved them all.

The comforter fell from his shoulders and Klaus made no effort to pick it back up. Sweat beaded at his temples and although the blanket had lent a feeling of security it had also added an oppressive heat that he could do without. Klaus curled up tighter, and stayed like that until he heard the return of Diego’s footsteps against the hardwood.

His head hurt.

With a slow exhale he leaned back until the back of his head hit the bedroom wall with an audible klunk. Outside the door Diego’s footsteps paused for a moment before the door opened and Klaus heard his brother enter the room.

“You okay?” He asked, awkward concern lacing his voice. Klaus was suddenly reminded of all of the times that Diego had seen him in withdrawal, and the times that he’d let him into his apartment high as a kite to feed him and make sure that he had somewhere warm to sleep.

“You know how you said I look terrible Di?” As he spoke Klaus uncurled, wincing at the dull ache that seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of his bones.

“Yeah?” Diego didn’t really sound as though he was paying attention to Klaus’s words as he moved towards his brother and pulled the blanket up to cover his bony shoulders again.

“I feel terrible. Like, Diego, my skeleton hurts.”

It’s a dramatic statement, theatrical, but not inaccurate, and if Klaus’s voice had a little bit of whine to it he was grateful to Diego for choosing not to mention it.

Yet.

He probably wouldn’t be able to push his luck too far before Diego got frustrated and kicked him out.

Because of this looming possibility Klaus didn’t resist the comforter’s hot heavy weight across his back, and he opened his mouth obediently to take the offered glass thermometer without complaint.

“Keep that there and don’t move for a while.” Diego instructed.

Klaus merely nodded in response, dropping his eyes to the floor and resting them of the knife-marked hardwood and settled in to wait.

After a few moments of watching Klaus carefully Diego shrugged, pulling a cell phone from his pocket and fumbling a little before setting a timer. The phone was unfamiliar and Diego’s hands seemed too big for it. There was no case and the metal and glass glittered under the low light, marked by Diego’s fingerprints.

Klaus figured that he must have bought it sometime after their return. Most of them had stuck to the house, too shell shocked to do more than wander hollow-eyed around the academy, but none of them were locked in.

He and Allison had left that day for groceries, and Klaus assumed that Diego and Vanya had gone to their respective apartments at some point. Vanya’s room now held a duffle bag full of slacks and loose button-up shirts. Diego had a new cell phone.

Klaus couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for Diego to get rid of it again.

As his brother lost himself to thought Diego produced an embroidery hoop from under the pillow and dropped into the desk chair a few feet away from the bed. Klaus watched as he crossed a leg and immediately set to work, untangling the thread that had become knotted to itself at some point in the project’s time hidden underneath the pillow.

The back of Klaus’s neck tickled as a bead of sweat ran down the heated skin. He twitched but didn’t move, didn’t open his mouth, didn’t push his luck. Diego had never been a cruel person—callous perhaps, no one in their family had ever had the chance to develop an appropriate view of the value of human life—but Klaus had exhausted his patience before, and tonight Klaus’s own bedroom was so very empty.

In the days since their return, nearly a week now, his room had remained so very empty.

Klaus had slept in fits and starts, on couches and armchairs throughout the academy, once curled up in his own wardrobe. He had left the door open, still too spooked by small spaces to tolerate the illusion of being locked in.

The most rest he’d gotten in a stretch had been when he had Vanya had settled into the sitting room and watched cartoons the night before. She’d sat with him for an entire afternoon and evening, only urging him up to his room well past midnight.

Klaus was grateful to her for the time she’d given him. Goodness knew that he hadn’t been the best company.

Three minutes passed over what felt like an eternity.

Diego cross-stitched, wordlessly pushing a thick needle through cotton cloth on his embroidery hoop. Klaus couldn’t tell what he was making, but the thread was a deep autumnal orange. It made him think of falling leaves and a particularly ugly sweatshirt he’d once owned.

Three minutes passed and Diego’s phone vibrated to remind them both of the reason for Klaus’s forced silence.

He grimaced as he drew the thermometer from Klaus’s mouth, reading the device before giving it a quick shake and laying it aside. Klaus closed his eyes, and listened to the clink of glass on the wood of Diego’s bedside table. It was the sort of sound that Vanya might have liked.

When they’d been children, Vanya had had a habit of listening to things and declaring whether or not she had liked the sound.

Klaus barely remembered their childhood.

A combination of trauma, substance abuse, and repeated head injury had all but erased everything but the starkest memories. There were a few things that stuck out in his mind, usually sounds and smells. Some emotions.

He remembered Reginald towering over him, gesturing violently with his cane as he yelled.

He remembered Vanya’s high pitched voice piping up after Luther had dropped a dumbbell on the hardwood floor, mentioning that she’d absolutely hated that noise. He remembered the smell of Ben’s books, and how he and Five had curled up together in the library to read together. He remembered trying and failing to hide behind Diego during training sessions, and Diego letting him.

“101.5” Diego interrupted, dragging his brother back into the present. “Not great bro.”

Klaus didn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes closed as he leaned back and klunked back against the wall.

“I’ve been worse.” He’d been much worse.

The final withdrawal, in his benefactor’s gorgeous private guest cottage, had been the worst. His heartbeat had skyrocketed and he’d locked himself in the bathroom as his familiar ghosts twisted and morphed in chemical induced delirium. Between the tachycardia and the sheer electrolyte imbalance he’d experienced Ben had told him that he was lucky his heart hadn’t given out.

Klaus wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t.

For all that he whined to Diego a run of the mill fever wasn’t really enough to shake him. If Ben had been with him they would have holed up in Klaus’s room and rode it out, only venturing out for water and the restroom.

But Ben wasn’t with him anymore.

Maybe Diego would let him stay. Klaus didn’t think he’d ever be ready to go back into his room and face the emptiness.

He wondered if he should go out and find someone to sleep with, either a partner or a one night stand to keep him company for however long they’d have him. He’d done so before, in order to keep a roof over his head, especially during the winter. Unfortunately partners usually found him grating and Klaus bored easily. He usually hadn’t stayed anywhere for more than a week or so.

Not until he met Dave. In all their time pressed in against each other in the thick humid jungle they hadn’t gotten tired of one another.

Klaus felt himself slide further down the wall, but made no move to push himself into a more comfortable position. He was too tired—and too inclined to be dramatic—to do anything but flop around pathetically.

Somewhere above him he heard Diego groan in exasperation.

That was all the warning that Klaus received before Diego grabbed him by the armpits and physically hoisted him into a more typical supine position. The movement hurt his shoulders but his neck felt better, if it hadn't been for the shock Klaus might have called it a fair trade off. As it was he whined indignantly and pushed his face into the pillow.

“You’re so mean Diego.”

But he slept, and Diego stayed.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

It was light out when Klaus drifted back to consciousness, wrapped in Diego’s comforter and feeling like total garbage.

Everything ached, and he was cold . Colder than he should reasonably be, even after wandering around in the rain in early april.

He was withdrawal cold.

Midnight in January cold.

Skipping meals and failing to sleep for a week at a time after stopping the apocalypse cold.

And as if his body was adding insult to injury his throat hurt. The first thing that he did after sitting up in the bed was launch into a coughing fit that rocked his frame as he braced himself against the wall.

He wanted a hit.

A drink.

Something.

He’d already fallen head first off the wagon, flung into the metaphorical gutter by Dave’s fist. Throughout the entire apocalyptic disaster in the sixties he’d clung to a heavy flask, and even after getting through and getting back he’d poured himself back into a bottle.

The decision to just stop cold turkey had come when he’d been alone in his room the night after.

It had just been so empty. The ghosts had still been muted by the alcohol in his system and Ben was just gone.

As though he’d been dead since they were teenagers.

There wasn’t even a keepsake to hold onto to memorialize all those years they’d spent together. Klaus couldn’t clutch to his brother’s stupid black hoodie and cry it out, he had no dog tags from Ben.

Klaus wished that he did.

The only thing he had left from Ben was his memory, his brother’s voice constantly echoing in the back of his head; snarking, gossiping, urging him to stay clean.

Urging Klaus to be better.

And alone in his room—surrounded by hidden pills and razor blades and miniature bottles pushed into vents and stuffed animals, and the crevice beneath the boards of his wardrobe—Klaus had decided that he was going to be better.

For Ben.

But he didn’t feel better. Sleep had evaded him, food was incidental, he wandered the academy like a ghoul interacting with his siblings when they happened upon him. And now he was curled up on Diego’s bed as his body broke from being pushed too far. He wanted to be numb again.

He was coughing when Diego stomped into the room and immediately moved to steady Klaus, sitting beside him on the twin bed and wrapping an arm around his narrow shoulders. Klaus leaned into the touch, and slowed his breathing trying desperately not to irritate his throat.

Every cough made the burning sensation worse.

Klaus sat there, tensed against Diego’s chest until he felt something cold tap against his face. A bottle of water.

“Drink this.” Diego urged, handing him the bottle. It was freezing, and Klaus shivered, his fingers knocking beads of condensation loose to drip and sink into the duvet cover.

He drank anyway. The cool water felt good on his burning throat even as he shivered.

While he swallowed Klaus felt Diego cover him with the blanket yet again. Bless his brother’s stubborn heart.

“Thanks.” He said as he drew the comforter closer.

Diego nodded, looking awkward.

“What time is it?” Klaus asked, taking another draw from the bottle. Other than the daylight that streamed in through Diego’s open curtains Klaus had lost all sense of time. Exhaustion still pushed heavily upon him but it offered no real clue as to how long he had spelt.

“Around noon.” Diego replied. His expression concerned but otherwise impassive.

Klaus hummed into the bottle, pleased. It had been a long time since he’d slept for so long. If he’d dreamed he didn’t remember the nightmares, only the constant comfort of his brother’s presence.

A finished cross stitch lay flat on the bedside table. The deep orange thread had been pulled and poked until it formed an image of boxing gloves laying against the white cotton. Below the image Diego had stitched the words protect your own in blocky angular font.

It was fitting.

Diego had always been the first one to step up and defend his siblings.

“Thank you.” Klaus said. He was grateful to Diego, not only for taking care of him through the night, but for the years and years of dragging Klaus off of the streets into whatever safety Diego could provide. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever properly thanked his brother for that/

He doubted that a quick thanks while high off of his ass would count.

Diego looked at him expectantly and Klaus realized with a sinking feeling in his chest that he’d probably overstayed his welcome. Not even Diego could take care of him forever. He’d gotten through the night and that would have to be enough.

“Right.” Klaus said, capping the water bottle and standing shakily, holding to Diego’s shoulder as his brother rose with him. “Thanks”

Again.

“I’m gonna get out of your hair now, give you your room back etcetera.” Flippant mask firmly in place Klaus wobbled towards the door, feeling dizzy enough to have been drunk, and awful enough to be hungover. Diego looked like he wanted to argue but even unsteady as he was, Klaus was quick; he was out the door before his brother was able to stumble over his first syllable.

Internally Klaus winced, he hadn’t meant to upset Diego.

He barely made it back to his own bed before collapsing into the cold sheets. A few ghosts murmured in the shadows of the wardrobe, one stared at him from the window, pressing a hand to the glass as if she couldn’t pass right through it if she were so inclined.

With a groan Klaus rolled over and ignored them, content to accept their presence as long as they kept the noise to a minimum.

He shivered against the chilly bed linens and pulled the blanket up over his head, curling into the smallest ball he could manage. It was unlikely that he’d manage to go back to sleep, but Klaus wasn’t sure what else he could do. The long drafty halls of the academy carried his siblings voices from the common areas and he was sure that they all had better things to do than keep him company, he’d be no fun anyway.

As he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the chill and ache of his fever Klaus wondered what Ben would be saying to him now.

He’d probably call him self-destructive.

God he missed him.

A sudden sob shook his chest and Klaus was so stunned that it took a moment for him to realize that he was crying. He hadn’t cried since those first few hours after Ben had gone.

He’d sobbed through the car ride away from the CIA building as Vanya had explained what had happened from the passenger seat, and curled up in the dark of Elliot’s bedroom to bawl himself into exhaustion.

And then he’d stopped.

The world had been ending, the entirety of the Commission had shown up to exterminate his family, and Klaus hadn’t had time to lay around and cry.

But now Klaus was crying again.

He recalled his wish for a keepsake, for something to hold on to. Across the hallway from the bedroom where he currently laid was a room full of Ben’s possessions. A museum full of artifacts that had been left to gather dust for seventeen years.

He thought of sitting up, of standing and walking across the hall to Ben’s room, to find something, but his strength was gone.

Instead Klaus buried himself deeper into the blankets and allowed himself to weep.

#klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #tua #tua fanfic #ouchie #klaus abuse #klaus whump #my fic #original #i contributed

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watchoutforthefanfics · 6 years ago

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Request

For @weird-is-my-middle-name-i-swear

Logince // "I thought I was going to lose you."

(I chose Logince because I love writing some angsty Logan.)

Buckle up, buttercups. I was crying at 2:40 in the morning finishing this. I'm sorry in advance, it does have a happy ending though.

TW: "Death" mention, car-crash mention, panic attack, essentially griefing, pretty heavy angst.

Logan was unfocused, his mind hazily reading over the crisp pages in the brisk daylight of the afternoon.

Roman had gone off that morning, he had went to go out and grab some groceries and some art supplies; Logan had wanted to come with, but Roman --for some reason-- had insisted on his boyfriend staying home.

However, he wasn't upset about it; Logan respected his choice (although it was confusing as to why he seemed so defensive) because he wanted to get caught up on his new book series anyway.

So he stayed home, the quiet hum of a documentary in the back of his head; just until it wasn't a soothing voice talking about nature's food pyramid anymore.

Logan flinched at the distant sound of sirens, aimlessly grabbing at the remote to turn it off; which took longer than he expected.

Just as soon as he grabbed the remote, the voice caught in his head with a familiar street; "-this morning, a tragic car crash on Lakens Drive just on the way downtown has been reported-"

Logan, had a little bit of fear in his stomach and the thoughts were making it climb into his throat.

"L-Lakens Drive-" he muttered to himself, trying to remember it's familiarity, trying to remember where it was.

It was the road that connected their house to 'Ally's', the discount grocery store Roman had gone to.

Logan sat up, the book forgotten in his mind as it fell onto the couch, his hand eagerly turning up the volume.

The view was devastating, as the woman continued explaining, "As you can see, the car was struck in the third lane and flipped reportedly three times into a ditch just off the side of the road."

Logan was trying so desperately to see the car, trying so desperately to see something he didn't recognize; everything was unclear. He found himself begging the woman to speak, to tell him, to tell him what had happened.

To tell him that it wasn't Roman.

"News of this story is flooding in as we air-" the woman spoke with a pained voice, as there was a deep regret in her eyes, "-the car, although too damaged to view it's original color, has been confirmed to be-"

Logan clenched his fists, his chest beginning to heave, "Not a 2018 Lexus RX, not a 2018 Lexus RX, not a 2018 Lex-"

"-a 2018 Lexus RX. It's inhabitants are still unclear, and the police have yet to release a report-"

He could feel his mind crumble, the only thing keeping him steady was a broken hope that it wasn't Roman, because it couldn't be. Right?

Roman wouldn't- Roman couldn't die going out and getting groceries, the probability of that was so minimal; he couldn't believe he was thinking about such small statisti-

"This just in," the woman grimaced, "-the driver of the Lexus is an unidentified male guessed to be in his mid-to-late 20s, and is currently on life support at Lynidor Hospital."

Logan felt a lump in his throat, his body jerking and hands shaking; he felt like he was going to throw up.

It wasn't possible, it wasn't possible, Roman wasn't, he couldn't be-

Logan's vision began to blur and the lights seemed so bright, he could hardly feel the carpet under his toes; the carpet Roman got as a housewarming gift the first day they met.

With shaking hands, he ransacked his pockets and yanked his phone out, clicking on his contact and hoping deep, deep in his chest that everything was okay that he'd hear his stupid, arrogant voice over the phone.

It was sent to voicemail, as Logan scrambled to do it again, "Maybe, he-he just didn't see it."

And yet again, he was greeted with the oddly pleasant but eerie, "Hello there, you've reached THE Roman Elliott's cellphone! Sorry, I couldn't get to you, I'm either working on the newest success or wooing my beloved. Leave a voicemail at the tone, and I will get back to you... eventually."

Logan's fingers lead the way, as he kept calling; like his mind was so numb and it was all he remember how to do. His breathing was deep sighs that he couldn't get back from and his heart felt like it was ripped out of his chest.

He slowly sunk to the floor, holding himself with his open arm; he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, and his life wasn't functioning without Roman.

He couldn't function without Roman.

But he had to calm down, because all of these overwhelming feelings of his heart racing and his mind plummeting; he... needed someone with a clear head.

"L? Do you know how early it i-" a groggy voice echoed into his ear, a taste of bitterness in his tone.

Logan interrupted, holding back a strangled sob, "Virgil, Roman... isn't answering his phone."

"Woah, Logan, are you crying? What's going on? Do you want Patton and I to come over until he gets back or-" Virgil rambled, obviously not used to Logan being the one crying.

"It... It was a 2018 Lexus RX, Virgil-" Logan said breathily, his heart pounding and his brain frozen he couldn't think, he couldn't remember how to speak, "-o-on Lakens Drive and Roman had went to get bread --bread for my stupid Crofters toast-- and he isn't responding to me, I-"

Virgil was calm, his tone confused, "L, slow down. I can't understand you. Here, I'll put you on speaker, but you need to breathe with me, alright? 4, 7, 8."

Logan's breaths shook, and they weren't stable and he keep messing up- but Virgil was there for him; restarting the count like nothing had happened.

And finally after enough time had passed and Logan could speak, he did so, simply and straight to the point, "Turn on channel 6."

The two males on the other line, did so, he could hear the sirens through the phone and the silence that swallowed him whole was all he needed to feel. They knew the implications.

"Roman... H-He went to get bread, for toast, and he isn't answering my calls. And I..." Logan swallowed, "-I don't know what to do."

Patton let a desperate, raspy tone escape his lips, "Y-You don't think-"

Virgil was silent, the kinda silence that pierced Logan, another pain and hurt to add to his thousands; he was... frozen, like it hadn't happened and like his heart was still in tac.

He... He wanted to be with Roman forever, he realized it then, on the carpet that felt like clouds; he realized that he had missed out on so much. He realized he wanted the cliche pageantry just to see Roman in a gorgeous gown, and to love him until the end of time.

He wouldn't mind doing anything for Roman.

"Logan," Virgil spoke, careful but determined, "-we don't know it was him. And we need to have hope until we know it isn't, it isn't... logical to assume it-"

Nothing was logical with Roman; not with the first day he met him, not with the feelings he got when he brought him coffee every morning, not when he sowed him a scarf out of the softest fabric he could find, and not when he had taken him to the citiy's biggest library as their first date.

"Y-You're right, Virgil-" Logan began shakily, as his heart mended just a little bit at the idea of hope, "-I'm going to call him one more time, and if he doesn't answer..."

It was remorseful on both sides on the phone, "I will get in touch with the police."

Logan was quick to hang up, a sob breaking through his body; he needed to cry, like a body-racking sob before he could face it again.

But, he got the courage, taking the phone in his hands as he gently pressed on his contact, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

He didn't expect it to answer with the next few seconds, nor did he expect the line to be filled with distant chatter, like other people.

And Logan, with one last breath of hope, asked with a broken voice and stifled heart, "R-Roman?"

It was quiet for a moment, like the distant talking had halted in shock, maybe? And it took more than just a few seconds for a voice to answer back, flooded with concern and immediate curiousity.

"Logan? Is everything alright? You had called me three times, and I thought something was wro-"

Logan sobbed, a desperate sob that reached through his soul and back; his voice just stitched his heart and all the nonsensical pain.

"Hey, Logan, honey. I'm coming home-" Roman sighed, concern evident in his voice, "-okay, sweetheart?"

"D-Don't hang up on me-" Logan spoke, in a strangled sob, "-please."

"Never, bee-" Roman hummed, "I'll just hook you up to bluetooth. So, that I'm safe alright?"

Logan sniffled, tears flowing freely down his cheeks again; God, he felt so much better, but worst at the same time.

Roman did most of the talking, just chatting about everything; things he found at Michael's, about his new projects, and about a girl named Tiffany who had given him a weird look when he said 'boyfriend' (to which he raided the Pride merch in Hot Topic and wore it around the rest of the visit).

"I love you, Roman," Logan spoke with as stuffy nose and not a single moment of hesitation.

Roman obviously still a little concerned, but he didn't second guess it, "I love you too, Logan."

Roman started up again, this time about old memories and distance dates and quiet nights and days that Logan could remember so vividly. Just until Roman said he had arrived, and after making sure it was okay about 20 times, he hung up.

Shooting Virgil a text, Logan felt a rest deep within his chest and he felt the pain fade just as he did with Roman's voice.

He didn't move, he couldn't, everything was just so numb and hurt and sore; he had thought Roman was dead, he had thought the love of his life was gone forever. He couldn't just recover.

Then, the door opened and slowly and carefully; Roman was safely back into the house. The feeling of relief that drenched him whole, was so liberating that he began crying again, just a few silent tears running down his cheeks as his fingertips ached to grab onto Roman and never let go again.

"Sweetheart?" Roman spoke, "What happene-"

The tv was just loud enough to gain his attention, his warm brown eyes locked onto a familiar screen with a familiar car and a single tag: One Dead In Tragic Crash.

Roman, slowly walking to his boyfriend as held out his arms, spoke calmly and sympathetically, "Oh, Logan."

Logan desperately latched onto his boyfriend, his hands gripping at his shirt, feeling his heartbeat deep in his chest, and feeling the fall of his chest: he was breathing, he was alive.

His hands wrapping around his boyfriend, he sobbed into his shoulder, "I thought I was going to lose you."

Roman, biting back tears, spoke soft and careful, "I know, I know, baby. I'm here, and I'm never leaving again."

And if there was a velvet box tucked away in a pocket, now was not the time to deal with it.

Because all Logan needed was Roman, and Roman didn't think there would ever be a day he didn't need Logan.

#sanders sides #ts logan #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #logince #logince angst #im not crying i swear #im not crying youre crying #im not crying you are #implied moxiety #moxiety #background moxiety #im sorry #ask requests #requests

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deamstellarus · 5 years ago

Text

In Viata Asta (3)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Word Count: 6k Warnings: Uhm…none? Maybe injuries and language?

A/N: Sorry this update is so late! My work schedule was shit last week so I was behind on editing and posting. So! I thought posting a little early would help make up for it, and it’s the longest so far? Also yes I know, this gif doesn’t have that much to do with this update but I love how it looks.

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You woke up to murmured voices and mechanical beeps. You were in a bed in a very white room. You could only assume it was the infirmary of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Several IVs were attached to your arm. A woman with long dark hair in a bun and a white lab coat jotted something down on a clipboard beside you, then took her leave silently. Something was making your brain feel hazy. Your bets were on the strong antiseptics in the air, but it was more likely whatever pain meds they were feeding you. Your hand was bandaged now, your back probably was too for how tight it felt. You started to sit up in bed.

“You don’t want to do that, zvezdochka. With your luck, you’d probably pull all your stitches.” Natasha sat next to your bed in an uncomfortable chair, staring intensely at the screen of her tablet. She set it down on the small side table next to you, and pushed a button on a remote. Your bed shifted you into a seated position. She held a white cup with a straw to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool water soothing your dry throat.

“How long...?” You croaked.

“Only twenty-four hours. You lost a decent amount of blood but we got you back soon enough.”

Then why did it feel like you were laying on fire?

“Your back was practically shredded from the rocks.” Had you said that out loud? “You needed a few stitches but you’ll be fine. The boys should be back in a few minutes with snacks, if you’re hungry.”

You nodded. Or tried to; your neck was stiff. Natasha went back to her tablet, so you closed your eyes for a few more minutes before Steve and Sam’s voices echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

“Look who’s up. Miss Rough and Tumble.” Sam’s toothy grin lit up the room.

“How are you feeling, Blue?” Steve’s ocean eyes were filled with concern. He looked perfectly okay. As if he hadn’t almost drowned in an evil river. Stupid super soldier serum.

“Just peachy, Cap.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“Sorry… Steve.” You smirked. Your stomach grumbled. Loudly. He chuckled and plopped the white paper bag he held on your lap. You opened it, smiling to yourself when you found a couple buttery croissants and one of those twisted glazed doughnuts. Natasha was giving away all of your secrets it seems. You chose a croissant, biting into the warm, flaky pastry. It was glorious.

“I see you still can't go very long without getting yourself into some kind of trouble," a familiar voice said.

"Sorry, sir, I—" Steve started before you cut him off.

"To be fair, I was doing fine on my own until these hooligans showed up." You muttered, mouth full, lazily gesturing to Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who stared at you indignantly.

"Don't be like that, Baby Blue!"

Fury looked unimpressed. "Excuses are—"

“...just lies we tell ourselves to justify doing something poorly." You finished his phrase, then swallowed. "It's nice to see you too, Nick."

"Nick?" Sam gasped.

"What, did you think his name was just Fury?"

"He doesn't exactly like when anyone calls him that," Sam grumbled.

"Aww, Nick! I knew you were going soft on me."

Fury grunted, but eventually relented and came over to pat your shoulder until you flinched at his touch.

"Heal up, Agent. We’ll talk about the incident when you’re standing on your own two feet again," he said as he walked to the door.

"Not an agent," you called after him.

"We'll see about that." He threw out.

You pouted. You knew it was unbecoming of you, but this is what you'd been dreading. You didn't want to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. That time of your life turned out to be so traumatic you ended up in a cabin by yourself for two years. But the reality is, you knew he'd get his way in the end. He always did.

__________

As far as doctors went, Dr. Alexandra Marks was patient and kind, and clearly had years of experience dealing with agents that tended to make reappearances in her infirmary. She was thorough with her diagnostics and made sure to emphasize what you could, but more importantly could not, do while you were in the recovery phase. Stitches, a heavy dose of fluids, and an advanced topical solution to help “speed up cell production”, and you were patched together the best you could be. Supposedly, they had a machine that was designed to generate skin, called the Cradle. It could have prevented the scarring, but it was out of commission due to an update or something. To be honest, it sounded too much like a cross between a crazy science experiment and a magic trick. Just the thought made you wary.

“While you’re still lucid, I need you to give me a report of what happened,” Natasha said after Dr. Marks and the boys left. She attached a keyboard to her tablet, pulling the kickstand out so the whole thing could rest on the bed tray. “It’s just better to do this while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

“Yeah, I know.” You frowned at the screen. Blips of the incident flashed through your mind. “Honestly, I’m not too sure what I actually remember. It feels like it’s all a blur.”

“Any little detail helps,” she pushed. “Anything at all.”

Weren’t those guys just Hydra goons though? But if that were the case, then why did it feel like there’s something more to this?

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Her face went through a series of micro-expressions that you would have missed had you not known to look for them.

“Is it not Hydra that came after us?”

“We don’t know. But… it doesn’t look like it at this point.” She sighed. “Just write the report for now.”

“Okay.”

So you did. Any little thing you could remember from the men to the river, you included in your retelling. For the most part, you didn’t remember the men standing out in any way more than they seemed out of place in the general store. The majority of the normal clientele wore flannels, sweatshirts, or thick hunting jackets. The sleek black jackets and black caps they’d been wearing made them stand out. That being said, everything was nondescript, no labels, no logos. Pretty generic bad guys if you were being honest. The only thing you could think of was the small tattoo on the side of one of their necks, but you hadn’t been close enough to see the actual design.

Maybe that was just you being paranoid and projecting. The tattoo was probably just a tattoo.

A couple hours later, Dr. Marks released you, with a promise that you wouldn’t do “anything unnecessary like your troublemaker friends.” You snickered at that.

Natasha gave you a tour of what you now learned was the Avengers Compound in upstate New York. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been running part of the agency out of the side buildings that were part of the campus since they re-established, while there was still a segment in D.C. She pointed out the different buildings and rooms during the brief tour, but you were distracted, rightfully so, by the sheer amount of agents that gave you judgemental stares the entire way to the main Avengers building. You steeled your nerves; you wouldn’t give them anything more before you could physically defend yourself.

You stepped into an elevator after Natasha, the smooth doors sliding silently shut behind you. You allowed your shoulders a break from the stiff, upright posture you’d taken.

“You alright?” Natasha asked.

“Yup.”

“Ignore them. The most fun the majority of them have is over rumors and gossip.” Natasha said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., third floor please.”

“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” a voice responded from above.

“A.I.?” you questioned. Natasha nodded.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is one of Tony’s creations. She’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Huh, well thanks in advance then, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“It’s my pleasure… I cannot find your identification in any system, miss. What shall I call you?”

“Oh, you can call me Blue?”

“Very well. Enjoy your stay, Blue.”

The doors opened, revealing a hallway that lead to the left and right of the elevator and seemingly wrapped around the perimeter of the building. In the center, you were able to look down over a common area of sorts, with a variety of couches, tables, an oversized TV, and a kitchen off to the side. Natasha turned to the right, passing several doors before she stopped.

“This is your room.”

The door in front of you was a glossy white with a biometric scanner to the side.

“Put your hand to the scanner,” she said. You did. A blue light shone through your hand, then with a soft click, the door slid open. The room was bigger than you thought it’d be, but knowing who owned the building, you didn’t expect anything less. There was a plush bed on one side of the room, a desk with a swivel chair on the opposite wall. Tall windows allowed natural light in the space. A fluffy rug and long drapes helped make the room less cold and clinical. But that wasn’t what drew your attention the most.

Draped across the bed was the plush purple blanket Clint had bought you when you were first brought back to headquarters. It was so, so soft. On top of that was your green duffle bag. It was the one thing you took with you everywhere. It stayed stocked and ready for if you needed to leave at short notice.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

"No chance of me going back to the cabin, huh?" You asked. Because as lonely as it had been there, it was yours, for the most part, and had become your safe place.

She shook her head. "Sorry, Blue. It wasn't discovered yet, but now they've seen your face, they know you're in the area. We can't take that chance."

You knew that, of course. She only confirmed it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind that door, and a walk-in closet next to it,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s not the cabin, but it’s a good place to stay. You’ll like it here,” You nodded.

She pulled you into her arms, her hands holding you like she didn't want to let go.

"You scared me, zvezdochka," she whispered into your hair.

"I know. I’m sorry.” It was rare for her to show so much emotion. As long as you’d known her, Natasha had always kept her feelings hidden.

A cough at the door disrupted the mood.

“What does a guy have to do to get the famous Widow to hold him like that?” The man leaned against the door frame, dressed in jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. It seemed far too casual for such a well-known billionaire.

Beside you, Natasha pulled away and rolled her eyes. Like a switch, her blasé facade was back in full force.

“Tony, this is Blue. Blue, Tony Stark,” she introduced.

“What kind of name is Blue?”

“It’s a nickname,” you said.

“Uh huh.” He squinted at you. “And your real name would be?”

“Leave it alone, Stark,” Natasha growled.

“I just find it strange that not only is there no record of her in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, but I can’t find her anywhere. Not a name, a city, a school, medical record. Nothing.”

Natasha bristled. Her eyes were narrowed slits. “I said leave it alone, Stark. She’s a personal friend of mine and Barton’s. Leave it alone.”

Tony glared at Natasha for a moment before yielding.

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.” To you, he said, “Welcome to the compound, kid.”

He took his leave, and Natasha shook her head.

“He doesn’t like when he doesn’t know everything about something or someone. Unfortunately, he will get his way eventually. He’s pushy, but it comes from a good place.”

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I can handle him. Besides, I am living under his roof for now, he has a right to know what he wants to know.”

“Only if you want to.” She puts a hand to your shoulder, before she walks to the door. But his inquiry did make you wonder…

“Why isn’t there a SHIELD file for me, or at least Agent M?”

“It may have gotten...lost when I released the files to the public.”

“You deleted mine instead of yours?” You remember she had a list of aliases, most from before she joined “the good guys.”

She shrugged. “It was time for a new chapter anyway.” She waved it off as if it meant nothing, but she risked her own neck so you could remain nameless.

“Thank you, sestrenka.” She was always looking out for you.

“Dinner is at six. You’ll meet most of the rest of the team then. Take a nap, you look like you need it.” She winked.

“Tell me the truth, how bad does it look?” You tilted your head, indicating your back.

“Eh, it’s just a few stitches.” With that, she left, copper curls bouncing behind her. And really you had no choice but to take a nap like she said. Especially when the bed looked that comfortable. __________

Natasha lied. That was your only thought as you looked at your body in the mirror of your bathroom. It was not just a few stitches. Forty-seven in total. You cringed as you read off the report FRIDAY supplied. Hearing it from Dr. Marks, and reading it off the report, hadn’t quite prepared you visually for the reality of your injuries. From what you could tell, your back was covered in black zig-zags, reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. At least as much as you could see that peeked out from underneath the white bandages and gauze. Plum-colored splotches covered your body. In addition to your back, your right hand also received six stitches, and your sprained ankle was now wrapped. And there were bags under your eyes. You looked awful and felt like a walking bruise.

“The meeting will be starting in fifteen minutes, Blue,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled you.

“Thanks.” You’d have to get used to never quite being alone alone.

Dinner passed by pretty well the night before, by your standards at least. Tony had apologized for his aggressive questioning, with a nudge from Pepper Potts, however wary of you he may still be. That was alright for now. Steve and Sam had taken the initiative to make you feel included in the conversations, though you were more content to observe the people around you. You were introduced to Col. James Rhodes, who had a dry sense of humor and held himself like a military man, and Dr. Bruce Banner, whose alter ego was a stark contrast to the mild-tempered man that had sat beside you. By far, the most fascinating member you’d met was Vision, an android with an English accent who reminded you vaguely of a curious child.

Now you were heading to a meeting Fury requested you attend. A loose-fitted tee and a pair of sweatpants and you were on your way out the door, wishing you’d had the forethought to have packed makeup in your duffle bag. While you never needed it on the mountain, it would have helped make you look marginally more presentable and less dead. Especially on the walk through the interconnected buildings to the conference room where you stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe Natasha could take you out to pick some things up soon.

You cracked the door open. Eight and a half pairs of eyes followed you to the empty seat next to Sam. You were the last one there. Of course. Fury stood at the head of the table, Maria Hill next to him, arms behind her back. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Steve, Natasha, Tony, and three agents in uniform filled out the rest of the table. A projection screen behind Fury exhibited pictures of several men you didn’t recognize.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin,” Fury said. He pointed between two of the five pictures on the screen. “These two men matched the facial recognition we were able to get off the cameras at the general store where the Captain and Agent M were first shot at, amongst civilians. There were no casualties in the store.”

You squinted. The men looked familiar now, especially without the hats to obstruct their faces. In the right image was the man you’d known to have the tattoo. Now that you could see it, on the left side of his neck, the small symbol looked like three triangles overlapping.

“They were found dead in their vehicle on the side of the road, SUV wrapped around a tree. This is confirmed with the reports Captain Rogers and Agent M gave upon arrival.” He pointed to the next two images. “These two were killed on sight by the extraction team in search of the Captain and Agent M.” He pointed to the last of the five head shots. “This last man was interrogated briefly by Agent Romanoff before he was terminated.”

“So were they Hydra agents from the mountain base?” Steve asked, confusion clear on his face.

“Not exactly,” Fury said.

“He wasn’t Hydra,” Natasha said. “He said Hydra was a group run by hot-headed leaders with imperfect ideals. He said what they were was bigger and better than Hydra could ever hope to be.”

“And who are ‘they’?” Steve pressed.

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t say, just that there were more of them and now that they had a ‘confirmation,’” she made quotes with her fingers, “they’d have all they needed soon enough to execute the program. He didn’t elaborate on what the program was or what exactly they’d confirmed. But before I could really press him for more, he killed himself. Cyanide tooth capsule.”

“Long story short, we’re led to believe these were not Hydra agents that tracked the two of you down. There were no markings on the body that would express allegiance to the group, nor did any declare their motto.”

“So what are you saying?” Sam questioned.

“I’m saying there is another organization who has at least one of the two of you as their target of interest and until we know who they are, you need to watch your backs.”

“No offense, sir,” one of the agents began. “But what would terrorist organization want with her?” She was pretty, blonde, and had an intense look about her. She wasn’t outright rude, she had a point at least; you’ve basically been in isolation for two years. Besides, she had to be more than capable to be in this room to begin with; that didn’t mean her comment didn’t irk you. You pushed down the urge to get defensive, and schooled your face into a neutral mask.

Simultaneously, all eyes were on you.

“At the moment we’re not quite sure,” Fury admitted. “Agent M’s official history within S.H.I.E.L.D. is otherwise non-existent as far as the database is concerned. However, that doesn’t mean no one would recognize her if they worked under S.H.I.E.L.D. before the disbanding.”

“You think this group is a bunch of ex-S.H.I.E.L.D., ex-Hydra rogue agents?” Steve interjected.

“Anything is possible,” Fury said. “For now, it’s best to assume Rogers was the target and Agent M was just an additional person of interest by proxy.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be related to this organization.” Maria advised. “If there really is another large-scale terrorist group among us, it’d be best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible.”

After the briefing, Fury held you back, as most of the others left the room. Maria relaxed by his side, her shoulders not quite as taut.

“You’re reinstated as an active agent, effective immediately, Agent M.” Fury held your gaze with his good eye.

“I never said I wanted to come back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I never wanted to be put in that situation again.” You glared back. The fingers on your left hand dug into your palm.

“We all have to do things we don’t want to do.” His large hand cupped your shoulder. “Just because you run away from something, doesn’t mean it goes away. You are good at what you do, and I refuse to let you waste your skills anymore.”

“But I—” He cut you off.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Blue.”

He rarely called you by your nickname. It was always ‘Agent.’ You sighed. As difficult as Fury has always been, he’d never given you bad advice. He was the one who fought for you to stay and train to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in the first place all those years ago.

And yeah, maybe he was a tad softer on you than on the others. You’d seen him as a father figure of sorts. If he thought you should be reinstated and otherwise get your head out of your ass, then you really couldn’t argue.

“Fine.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Fury smirked, patting your shoulder twice heading towards the door. “As soon as you’re cleared for it, you’ll start training. Rest up. This little incident tells me you’ve lost your touch.”

__________

You sat on a couch in the common room a week later, skimming through the data, searching for anything you could connect to an unknown terrorist group. Without a name, it was hard to even associate what little frays you did find, and you were led to dead end after dead end. You set the laptop on the seat beside you and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You looked to your Stark-issued phone for the time. It was well past midnight. This wasn’t the first time you’d been unable to sleep this week due to your mind racing about the implications of an unknown group trying to bring devastation for whatever reason they’ve deemed justifiable. The bad feeling in your gut only intensified the more frustrated you got at the lack of information. You really wanted to punch something, but you weren’t cleared to do more than brisk walking, lest you pull a stitch and elongate your recovery period.

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself some water. The cool liquid did nothing to soothe your restlessness. So instead, you paced the halls, a habit you picked up since you arrived. You passed the entryway to the lab. More specifically, Tony and Bruce’s lab. The other common occurrence you’d noticed every night were the lights in the lab always being on this late in the night. It seemed like Bruce usually went to bed early in the evening, preferring to start his day earlier than most. Which left Tony as the only possible night owl.

You hesitated by the door before pulling it open and wandering through the cool-toned lights in the lab. Classic rock played softly through the speakers. Tony stood at table at the far end of the room, back hunched over. He was poking at something that caused small sparks to shoot from the device. His masked face was probably still too close to the object.

You pulled out a stool from a neighboring table smoothly, just enough to make some noise, not enough to startle him. The masked tilted up, then focused once again on the task at hand.

“Not asleep, Agent M?” He said with an ever-so-slight sneer.

“You can call me Blue, you know.” Tony hadn’t warmed up to you like you’d hoped in the past week. He’d been distant, always in the lab. Natasha assured you that was normal for him though, so you took her word for it.

“Do I know that?” He snipped. He worked in silence for a few moments, then he put down his tools and flipped up his mask. His eyes were rimmed in red, most likely from exhaustion. “You know, I just find it odd that everything was all fine and dandy until Rogers and Co took a trip to Washington State. Now there’s a new terrorist organization we have to look out for, and you show up with no official identity in any database on the planet, and one word from Fury and we’re supposed to just be okay with that? I’m not exactly a big believer of coincidences.”

“Just ask what you want to know, Stark. I don’t want to always feel like I’m tip-toeing around you.” Because it was annoying.

“What’s your history with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Natasha and Clint were on a mission, found me as a teen in an abandoned warehouse. Brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. I was an agent for three years.”

“What made you leave?” His gaze shifted elsewhere.

“Bad mission. I lost people I cared about.” His eyes found yours. “And with Hydra discovered inside the agency and S.H.I.E.L.D. dissolving, I just got out while I could.”

He was quiet for a long time. Absently, you twirled a random screw between your fingers.

“Tell me about the mission.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing deeply. You recalled your worst nightmare like it was yesterday. You opened your mouth to begin when he put a hand up.

“Sorry. You don’t need to tell me.” He waved you away. “I can be insensitive when I’m tired.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Long story short, it went really, really wrong, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was young-”

“You’re still young, kid,” he quipped.

“-and I already couldn’t remember my past. Losing people, people I was especially close to, was too much.” Your breath shuddered. “I didn’t want to have to go through that again, so I left. Fury kept tabs on me, same with Natasha and Clint. But I swore I wasn’t going to be an agent anymore.”

“And now, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

Tony nodded. He got up unexpectedly, shuffling over to a hidden cupboard that housed a coffee maker. He came back with two mugs, steam spirals swirled in the air. You took a sip. Minty.

“It’s a peppermint blend. Some candy cane Christmas bullshit I got in a ‘thank you’ basket over the holiday. It’s barely coffee, not even caffeinated, but it tastes nice. Supposed to help clear the mind or something.”

You shrugged. Because it was good.

“So… you don’t remember your past?”

“I don’t even remember my name.”

“That must be tough.”

“Mhm,” you agreed.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the rough start. Genuinely. I spend so much of my time trying to do the best to defend against the bad, that I sometimes jump to conclusions and can be…”

“Overly suspicious?” You supplied.

“Yeah.”

“No worries, Stark…”

“Tony.”

“Tony,” you smiled. “I would have thought the same thing. I mean hell, I almost embedded a knife in Captain America’s head when I first met him.”

“I want to do that sometimes and I’ve known him for years.” He chuckled into his mug.

“So we’re good?” You didn’t want to just assume. A heart to heart doesn’t always form a friendship, but at least maybe you’d be on good terms now.

“We’re good, kid.” He smiled, a genuine grin on his lips. “Come on, you can help me test this new version of my gauntlets.”

Huh. Maybe you were wrong. __________

Another week passed before you were cleared for active duty. The scarring was… definitely there. Harsh, red lines spider-webbed around your back. Apparently, it healed faster than Dr. Marks anticipated, especially without the cradle. She seemed convinced the shorter recovery time meant there was a high chance the scarring would fade quickly as well. You weren’t exactly a vain person, but it didn’t look pretty as of now. At least you could cover it up easily.

You were placed into a random group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Group C apparently, and were given a schedule that listed off times for hand-to-hand combat training, weight training, endurance training, and shooting practice. You were convinced Steve loved to see you and the other recruits suffer as he pushed you all to run the laps of the course around the compound. The first day, you were dead after three miles, collapsing on the ground when the muscles in your legs gave up and lying on gravel sounded like a better idea. Steve only ordered you to get up and run again. You might have grumbled something about seeing if you’d ever save his life again.

Now you were able to keep up with the group. You found it a necessity, as you’d overheard in the locker room how they didn’t like you because you were “definitely sleeping with the Captain” or why else would you be there. You’d caught a stink eye more than once, and decided you had to push harder and tune them out. The chatter was useless. You knew the truth, so their opinions didn’t matter, but you didn’t want Steve to be accused of favoritism. He didn’t deserve any unnecessary backlash.

By far, Natasha was thrilled to have you in training again.

“You’re having too much fun with this Natasha,” you groaned from the mat.

You were constantly being thrown by her, taunted that you’d lost your reflexes from being out of practice. You always ended up sore and bruised after a session. The snickers of the other agents really pissed you off, but you couldn’t exactly bite their heads off. Plus, even when you were in your best shape, you weren’t always able to out-Natasha Natasha; you’d only done it a few times. You knew first hand the rest of the agents in the room couldn’t do that. And you’d out-fought enough of them to know that.

“You’re making it easy on me,” she pulled you to your feet. “Maybe you should practice with someone with a little less agility for now?” She tilted her head to Sam, who’d over heard as he sauntered in and pulled a bitch face at her.

“Oh that’s low, girl. Real low.” But he joined you on the mat anyway.

Sam’s strikes were powerful and quick, like a boxer. He shuffled his feet, throwing punches at varying intervals. You dodged and blocked what you could. He got in a few hits before you picked up his pattern. That was the problem with most people in hand-to-hand. The body naturally wants to move in a rhythm, just like in running, but it’s too predictable in fighting, which is one of the reasons it was so hard to fight Natasha. She was slippery as a snake and it was hard to anticipate her next moves at the speed she moved.

You swung your arm out, your fist clipping him in his unprotected ribs, jumping out of range after. He stumbled back. You took the opportunity to rush him, diving low last minute to the space beneath his legs. You half-turned in your crouch and kicked your leg out, knocking him off balance and crashing into the mat. Finally.

“Adequate,” Natasha complimented. “But I’ve seen you do better. That was sloppy.”

You nodded, panting. She was right, but you’d take then win. It would take you a while to get back to what your skills had been, but even you had to admit. The ache of your abused muscles was actually rather nostalgic. __________

It was well after dinner when a knock at your door had you sitting up, causing the ice packs to tumble off your body. You sighed.

“Come in!”

Natasha stepped in, eyeing the ice packs.

“Have we been too rough on you?” She teased. You didn’t take the bait.

“Nah. Just not used to it yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Just wanted to let you know Clint and the others are almost here. The quinjet should be landing in five, if you want to join us.”

“Of course.” You stumbled off the bed, and slipped your shoes on as you followed her to the hangar.

The hangar was cleaner than you would have thought. Relatively spotless and spacious. You and Natasha joined Steve, Sam, and Vision by the marker number 1 just as the rumble of an engine made the quinjet known. The noise echoed loudly in the space as the jet landed smoothly in its spot. The engines cut off, and with the high-pitched whir of the propellers winding down. The door opened down into a ramp. At first, no one came down, then there was a stumbling, mummy racing down the ramp toward you. Clint scooped you up into his arms, twirling you around, rambling a mile a minute.

“I thought Tasha was messing with me when she said you were here!” He was shouting in your ear, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “When did you get here? How long are you staying? Wait! Are you back for real?”

“Barton, I’m pretty sure she can’t breathe.” Natasha’s voice cut through his excitement.

“Oh, right.” He plopped you down. You staggered before you caught yourself.

“It’s good to see you too, Robin Hood.”

His eyes flitted over you, not overlooking the bruises from training this week.

“Geeze, you look awful. What happened?”

“What is with the two of you?” You looked between him and Natasha. “You can’t just tell people they look awful when they’ve been beaten up. Besides, you’re one to talk,” you sassed. Clint was covered in butterfly bandages and deep purple bruises. “Can’t you go on one mission without coming back like you belong under a pyramid?”

“‘S not my fault.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. You stared at him pointedly. “Well, not all my fault.”

“Some things never change.” You grinned.

“Blue, this is Wanda Maximoff.” Natasha held her hand out to a girl around your age, with long auburn hair and sparkling green eyes. She looked at you hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Blue.” You did a little wave, then immediately regretted it for how dumb you probably looked.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She enveloped you in strong arms. She had an accent you couldn’t place, but it wasn’t so thick you couldn’t understand her. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Natasha and Clint. It’s nice to match the face with the name.”

You smiled, because she seemed very sweet. You could already see yourself being friends with her. You noticed Vision hovering just behind her, and when she pulled away, her hand reached back to find his. That was cute. You also now had questions, but that was for another time. You certainly weren’t close enough to just ask anyway.

Behind you, Steve was embracing a man with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked just as built and strong as Steve, maybe an inch shorter in height. Steve’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving, speaking too low for you to hear. The intimacy of their moment had you assuming they were more than friends. Definitely together. You wondered if the public had that knowledge, but it was more than likely not. The media would probably have a field day with that info.

Steve opened his eyes, meeting yours with a smile before he stepped back and called out to you.

“Hey Blue! Come over here and meet Bucky!”

His companion turned around and the breath caught in your throat. You did a double take. After all these years, you never thought you’d see him again. Maybe you’d dreamed you’d find your long lost friend, hoping that you both hadn’t changed too much to pass each other on the street someday without realizing. But you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke.

“Ingeras?” _________

A/N: Just now realized I haven’t given any translations for words so far, but I will from now on!

zvezdochka (Russian) - little star sestrenka (Russian) - sister, sis ingeras (Romanian) - angel

_________

In Viata Asta Taglist: @rvgrsbrns @artsyspacebee @thelovelydreamer17

#Stucky x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfiction #In Viata Asta

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mycatshuman · 5 years ago

Text

Show Yourself

(Part 2)

Pairings: Remus, slight Princiety, hinted Logicality

Warnings: Remus and Deceit, if I missed any please let me know.

Thank you @icequeenoriginal for reading through this for me.

Masterlist | Into The Unknown (Part 1)

------

Virgil sat on his bed, his mind reeling from the events of the past week. Between him ducking out, the others coming to his room, being accepted, having to rescue them, and telling them his name, he was mentally exhausted. But he was feeling better. And he realized that him ducking out would not work for Thomas. And no matter what anyone may say, he cared for his host and his well being. And if him ducking out caused Thomas to be careless than he couldn't do that.

Despite the other main sides finally accepting him, he was still uneasy. People couldn't accept people on a dime, and he knew that. He wasn't stupid. But they were working on it and that's all he could ask really. He wasn't entirely innocent either. He did snark back and put up a tough wall. And he was going to work on not being so mean.

The voice still bothered him. Especially when he ducked out. It was so loud and hurt his ears so much that even if the other main sides didn't come for him, Jake and Remus would have forced him to go back for the sake of his eardrums. It had since lessened. Which Virgil was eternally grateful for, although, it still called out to him. But soon, that would change.

-------

They had just finished filming the Accepting Anxiety videos. Logan and Roman had suggested that accepting anxiety was an important topic to cover in Thomas's scripted series Sanders Sides. Virgil kind of liked the series. Sure it did nearly mirror some real-life occurrences but he was comfortable knowing the series would mostly follow a different storyline from their actual lines.

So Virgil was happy. He had been accepted and the other sides allowed Jake and Remus to visit him sometimes. They even invited them to join in on family nights. So all in all, Virgil was pretty happy with how his life was going. Until he woke up that morning. He looked in the mirror, did a double-take, and then screamed.

The door to his room burst open and a tired-looking Roman tumbled in with his sword shouting, "Where's the danger?"

Virgil startled. He took a few minutes to compose himself before he yelled, "LOOK AT MY FUCKING HAIR!!"

Roman paused and blinked as he took in the anxious sides' hair. His face blushed a deep red as he went through a serious case of gay panic. Virgil, meanwhile, was in a similar boat as he took in Roman's newly purpled bedhead. Oh fuck, he's hot!

"Oh-uh.." Roman struggled to pull a sentence together. "Thomas..I think he got his hair dyed.."

Virgil blinked. Once. Twice. And then he groaned and hit his head against his dresser. Roman yelped and dropped his sword before rushing forward to stop the emo side from hurting himself.

"What are you doing?!?" He screeched.

Virgil mumbled incoherently into the wood as he let his headrest. "I'm trying to knock myself out so I don't risk negative judgment."

Roman frowned. "Virgil, surely you know we wouldn't judge you." Virgil shrugged. Roman bit his lip before pulling Virgil upright. "Come on, let me look." Virgil stood up reluctantly. Roman had to refrain from sighing dreamily. The plum-colored locks fell over Virgil's eyes and stood out beautifully against his skin. "Virgil...you..you look beautiful." Virgil flushed bright red as Roman took a couple of seconds to realize what he just said. His eyes blew wide as he tried to cover up his feelings. "I mean, your hair, your hair! Looks very nice! And beautiful. I mean you both look beautiful! I um, it's really nice?"

Virgil giggled lightly as he hid his smile behind his hand and Roman fell deeper in love. "Okay, I think I got it." He grabbed his clothes out of his dresser moving to the bathroom to take a shower before stopping and looking back at Roman. "Ro?"

Roman paused in picking up his sword. "Yes, Virgil?"

"Your hair looks nice too," Virgil told him shyly before turning and going into the bathroom.

Roman nearly squealed. His crush had told him he looked good! He danced around a little before freezing. "Wait…." His eyes blew wide and he raced into his room only to let out a wail at the purple mop atop his head.

-----

The sides all sat in the family room. Roman had wanted to discuss something he had been thinking of that he wanted them all to try out. "Okay, so I've been thinking, maybe our wardrobes need an upgrade!"

Virgil, Logan, and Jake shared a blank face as Remus and Patton let out equal shouts of excitement. "Why do we need an upgrade in our wardrobes?" Jake asked.

"Why to freshen up our looks! You two will probably be a part of videos soon and we need to make sure our outfits all live up to this new season we are going into!"

Logan frowned. "If it would improve views than I suppose I can agree. But what are the requirements of these upgrades?"

"More pigment! And a symbol or crest that will represent us as a side!"

Virgil bit his lip. "And we have to make our own updates and stuff?" He asked anxiously.

"Yeah!" Roman nodded enthusiastically. "That way it is something you'd actually wear and something that you can be comfortable in."

Virgil frowned. "I think you're forgetting something, Princey."

Roman frowned. "What's that?"

"Not all of us can create cool stuff."

"Kiddo," Patton began. "You don't have to participate if you don't want to but I really think you can do it. It doesn't have to be a big change and you can take inspiration from anywhere. Just give it a try, who knows what you'll come up with."

Virgil frowned and opened his mouth to argue only for his brother to interrupt. "Virgil, just give it a shot, okay? I think it would be nice to put some color into your wardrobe. It might help you have something to focus on instead of the same black and greys all the time."

Virgil sighed and grumbled. "Fine...I'll try. But I can't promise anything."

-------

Virgil stood in his room, different fabrics are strewn about everywhere and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing was working. He couldn't get anything to work. He tried adding different colors of red. And while they looked nice, they didn't feel...right. Virgil was getting tired and he was on his way to a mental break down if he didn't find the right thing soon. He had been working nonstop for days and he couldn't help but give up hope.

He grabbed a handful of fabric and yeeted it across the room at full force. In the blue light, the red fabric glowed a brief purple as it fell and Virgil froze. "Every inch of me is trembling," he sang softly as he slowly moved over to the pile of fabric. "But not from the cold." He kneeled down and carefully picked up the red fabric and held it against the blue light. "Something is familiar." He whispered. The fabric turned a slight purple color as he inspected it. The light giving it a different shade. "Like a dream I can reach but not quite hold. I can sense you there." Virgil turned around and glanced around his room at the discarded piles of fabric laying all over the place from his previous failed attempts at updating his normal outfit. "Like a friend I've always known." He glanced at his hoodie and ideas began to spark. "I'm arriving. And it feels like I am home."

Virgil conjured a plain black zip-up hoodie. "I have always been a fortress, cold secrets deep inside." He carefully laid out the jacket on his bed. "You have secrets, too. But you don't have to hide."

Virgil conjured a small square of purple fabric and laid it on the jacket to test it. "Show Yourself. I'm dying to meet you." He frowned. The purple was nice but it was missing something. "Show Yourself, it's your turn," he sang softly as he glanced around his room. His eyes landed on his Sally and Jack posters. "Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life?" His eyes sparkled as he turned back to the square of plum fabric and focused on conjuring some white string. "Show Yourself, I'm ready to learn. Ah-ah, ah-ah."

Ah-ah, ah-ah-ah.

Virgil's head snapped up as he heard the siren voice again. The loudest it had been in a while. A bright smile spread across his face and he turned back to his project. "I have never felt so certain." Virgil conjured more of the purple fabric. "All my life I've been torn." He moved around his room as he sang and grabbed needles and thread and a pair of scissors. "But I'm here for a reason. Could it be the reason I was born?" Virgil yanked a sketchbook out from his dresser drawer and a few pencils as he began sketching out the design shimmering vividly in his mind. "I have always been so different. Normal rules did not apply." Soon Virgil had a fairly well-composed design laid out, his eyes sparkled with joy. "Is this the day? Are you the way? I finally find out why?"

Virgil picked up the scissors and began cutting out the shapes out of the fabric. "Show Yourself! I'm no longer trembling." As he worked his shadow magic helped hold things for him and kept them from getting lost and protected him from picking his finger on the needle. "Here I am. I've come so far!" All of the fabric was sewn onto the jacket and Virgil set out sewing the white string around the patches somewhat hazardously, really pulling the idea of "stitches together." "You are the answer I've waited for all of my life! Oh, show yourself!" Virgil pulled the hoodie on and frowned slightly. "Let me see who you are."

Virgil moved over to his mirror. "Come to me now," he called as he inspected his hoodie in the mirror. "Open your door. Don't make me wait." The shadows watched him as he frowned at his reflection. "One moment more. Oh, come to me now. Open your door. Don't make me wait one moment more."

Then, as if out of thin air, small patch materialized in front of Virgil, free floating. Where the north wind meets the sea. A voice said, sounding suspiciously like a mixture of Logan's, Thomas's, Patton's, Remus's, Jake's and Roman's sang.

(Ah-ah, ah-ah) The voice that have been calling him since the beginning called out.

There's a river,

(Ah-ah, ah-ah)

Full of memory.

(Memory, memory)

The other voices faded away as the voice sounding mostly like Roman's sang out. Come, my darling, homeward bound.

Virgil felt like crying as he reached forward and gently took the patch out of the air and holding it to his chest. "I am found!!!"

"Show Yourself!" Virgil belted out as the shadows rushed forward and zipped around him. "Step into the power." The shadows melded to the purple patches all over Virgil's jacket, creating a plaid pattern. "Grow yourself! Into something new!" Virgil looked into the mirror with wide eyes as finally, the jacket began to come completely together.

The voices of Virgil's family all called out once again. You are the one you've been waiting for-

"All of my life!"

(All of your life.)

"Oh, show yourself!"

The voices all melded together as the patch attached itself to Virgil's jacket. "Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah" The shadows woven together around Virgil as they spun in a tornado-like wind. "Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah. Ah-ah, ah-ah." The shadows burst away and Virgil was left standing in front of his mirror.

--------

Virgil was slightly nervous. No one had seen each other’s outfits yet. Roman claiming it would be better to catch the genuine reactions of each of them to the others’ new looks. Of course that meant Jake and Remus's looks wouldn't be revealed until later. Knowing those two they probably hadn't even started yet and were using the extra time to slowly plan things out. Today they were filming the Hogwarts houses video and at the end before they ducked out they would change into their new and improved attire. Virgil just hoped everyone liked his. While it felt right, and perfect, he couldn't help but be nervous.

"'Say, Thomas, these emblems and your hair are giving me an idea!'" Roman exclaimed excitedly.

"Roman, make it work!'" Thomas answered, excited to finally see the new designs.

“I say we go for a bit of a change too!'" Roman took off the Gryffindor robe he was wearing, an excited grin on his face.

"Oo! How?'" Patton asked as he fought to take off the Hufflepuff robe, his arms getting stuck in the sleeves and disturbing the blinds behind him.

"If you say mind place again, we haven't even been back to the one you created-" Logan started ranting but was cut off when Roman turned around with a flourish. "'Oh, nice.'"

Roman wore a white jacket with gold embellishes laying across his chest, on his shoulders, and wrapped around his tall collar. Along with that, he wore a red sash that laid diagonally over his torso. With some gold wrapping around the cuffs and a new emblem on the top of his arms, he looked more like a Disney prince than ever. "'Oh! New emblem thingy!'" Patton exclaimed excitedly.

"'Aww. Prince 2. Oh My Goodness.'"

"'Your shoulders were so boring to look at before!'"

Virgil's eyes widened as he leaned back and looked Roman up and down. There was no denying Princey looked good. Like really good. Virgil thanked all that is emo that his blush was hidden beneath his pale foundation.

"'Yeah it's just a bit of a change but I thought it would be nice,'" Roman explained as he smiled joyfully. He almost couldn't contain his squeal at noticing Virgil's reaction.

"'Well, I suppose I could also participate, but I'm not going to go as ornate or elaborate. I would just look silly,'" Logan explained as he prepared to change.

"'I set the bar too high for you, that's okay.'"

Logan turned around as he fixed his new tie. This one held more blue hues going down at an angle. His polo shirt was now a shade darker and featured a cartoon brain with glasses on the breast. He cleared his throat. "'There. Nice simple logo change, clear and to the point.'"

"'Hey Logan!'" Patton exclaimed happily. He excitedly pointed to his new baby blue polo shirt where a cartoon heart with glasses identical to the ones on Logan's logo sat on his chest. Even the cardigan seemed to have changed to a darker, warmer grey. "Matching logos!"

Logan nearly shut down from an overload of Gay but he was able to contain it and keep up with the character he portrayed onscreen. "'That's..very nice Patton.'"

"'Mine is a heart with glasses.'"

"'Stealing my logo, no big deal.'"

"'What's going on with your cardigan?'" Roman asked as he eyed the fabric tied around the moral sides shoulders.

"'Is that your cat onesie?'" Logan asked.

"'Maybe…'" Patton answered as he pulled the hood up with a smile.

"Ugh," Logan sighed. "That will not suffice.'"

Patton groaned, but was silently happy he was able to almost get Logan to break character. "'Ughhhh. You never let me do anything fun.'"

"'You'll figure it out buddy. Maybe something different for next time,'" Roman added.

"'Virgil! Your turn!'" Patton exclaimed as he tied his old hoodie around his shoulders.

"'Oh my gosh, do I have to?'" Virgil asked, following the script. They had set it up so up until each side revealed their new look they had scripted lines and while the reluctance was scripted, it was also slightly real. "'I mean like so many changes. I just told you my name.'"

"No! No!'" Roman exclaimed, desperate to keep Virgil comfortable and not force him to do anything. “You don't have to. I just thought-'"

"'I-actually, ugh.'" Virgil started cutting Roman off. "I actually have this idea, but like, it's a little out there. So, um."

"Go ahead,'" Thomas started. "I mean if you don't like it you can always change back.'"

Virgil let out a sigh. "'Well...alright, but, um. Before I do, I should probably confess that uh." Virgil switched his outfit to his new one, the purple plaid patched zip up hoodie with zippers on the sleeve and white stitching throughout. "I actually really dig the purple.'"

"Woah!!!!" Patton exclaimed excitedly as he took in everything.

"That design!" Logan commented in awe.

Romans eyes widened as he took in the others outfit. From the hoodie to the ripped purple shirt to the ripped skinny jeans. Holy fuck the Emo Nightmare just got hotter!

"'Get on his level,'" Thomas commented, impressed with Virgil's new look.

Patton started coughing. "You good, Patton?'" Roman asked worriedly.

"I got overexcited,'" Patton explained.

"'Well, I will say this much, that is..a jacket,'" Logan spoke up.

"'That is..magnificent,'" Roman commented as Virgil hunched his shoulders a bit before letting the tension flow from his body and allowed himself to smile an adorable little half-smile. Roman's heart raced at the smile and he found it hard to not just leap forward and pull Virgil into a passionate kiss. "'How you've managed to become even angstier.'"

"Oh, okay," Virgil said, his smile gone before it could see a minute.

"No!'" Roman exclaimed, quickly trying to fix the situation. "'If that's what you want to rock then you rock it sir! Who needs your own Hogwarts house when you have your own hog wild style.'" Roman paused, "'Ah, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.'"

"'Yeah..it is pretty hog wild,'" Virgil commented, slightly confused and amused. Roman may have been a little unprepared but Virgil official counted it as rendering the creative side speechless. And that was a win in his book.

--------

That night, when Virgil went to bed, it was the first time in a long time, he didn't have to fight against an ever-present siren voice. And if he and Roman happened to share a kiss in the few minutes before dinner, that was nobody's business but their own. And if they held hands under the table during dinner, then that was also their own little secret.

-----

Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

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lonelyandlovelorn · 5 years ago

Text

Trust - Part 1

A/N: There will be a sequel, probably in a couple of days. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Genre: fluff? eventually?

Warning: language probably, mention of blood

Word count: 1800

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem reader

Summary: You are in need of help and your first choice is two people who don’t like you.

Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3

You clutch your side as blood oozes through your fingers. Your vision is getting fuzzier and you can only hope you’re still walking in the right direction. You had only been to the bunker once, so you definitely aren’t going to be able to walk there on memory alone, but you know that you are close. When you first met the boys, you had cast a spell with the sole purpose of informing you when they were nearby. Based on that feeling you can barely sense, you know you are not far away. You don’t know what you’ll do if you are wrong, or if they aren’t home.

Die, probably.

You finally reach the door that looks vague familiar, or the blob representing it does. You attempt to knock once feebly. You know they don’t hear it, so you use what little energy you have left to project to the closest one. All you get out before losing consciousness altogether is a soft, “Help… door.”

***

Sam and Dean aren’t on a hunt, the world isn’t currently ending, and neither of them is dying. Life is good in the bunker. They ate dinner an hour ago and had gone their separate ways. Now, Sam is in his room, while Dean sits out in the war room, using his computer to research a hunt they might go on soon. Everything is calm until he hears a voice in his head. It’s a female voice, and familiar, but he doesn’t immediately recognize it. All he knows is he hears a call for help and the word door and his instincts kick in. He dashes up the stairs towards the most likely door, swinging it open.

Dean Winchester is a hard man to surprise. He’s seen it all at this point, it seems. However, Dean is shocked to see a woman he recognizes collapsed on the ground outside the bunker. Without considering anything other than his need to help people, he lifts her gently from the ground, closing the door with his foot and carrying her to a guest room. He calls for his brother after setting her on the bed. Without waiting for him to come, he begins checking for injuries, immediately spotting the blood on her side. He lifts her shirt to find a deep gash. He can’t say what it’s from or who she upset, but he knows it’s bad and that he needs to stop the bleeding. He presses a towel to the wound and is glad to see that she is still unconscious, if only for how much that would have hurt. She’s breathing shallowly and very pale, but Dean is confident in her ability to bounce back, no matter how much it annoys him. When Sam comes in, he only asks what he needs to do, nothing about why she is in the bunker or why they are helping her. The boys are efficient in tending to the woman in the bed, and within 20 minutes, her wounds are cleaned, stitched, and wrapped. Since they aren’t a hospital they don’t have medical equipment to check anything aside from external injuries, but they feel like they get the job done.

Once she is stable, Dean pulls a chair from the war room next to her bed to sit in to keep watch for the night.

Now that he isn’t trying to save her life, he has time to think about all of the questions rattling around in his head. What happened? Who did this? Why come to them? Unfortunately, she can’t answer him, so he’s left to watch over her and wonder.

***

You wake sore and disoriented. The only clue that helps you figure out your surroundings is that feeling that the Winchesters are nearby. Your confusion slowly fades as memories come back to you. A blade swiping at your side, running with no sense of direction, collapsing outside the door. You slowly blink your eyes open, looking around the room you have been put in. You first notice that it appears normally unused. As you turn your head the other direction, you are startled by the silent presence of the elder brother. When your eyes widen, he raises a brow at you, obviously inquiring as to why you showed up at their door, bleeding and near death.

Now, you and the Winchesters had never exactly been friends. Uncomfortable allies at best, truly. You were a witch, and they just didn’t like that. You weren’t out cursing innocent people or using underhanded manipulation for selfish gains. You tended to use your magic on those you deemed deserving of punishment. Abusers, rapists, predators. Those who preyed on people too weak to fight back. The problem was, being a witch, you didn’t exactly advertise that you were basically a vigilante at best. To maintain a place of relative safety among other witches, you didn’t go into details of your motivations. When you crossed paths with hunters, they tended to leave you alone, though begrudgingly. This was the case with Sam and Dean unless they needed something from you.

Waking up to one of them watching over you is uncomfortable to say the least. You look away and at the ceiling, begging silently for him to let you pretend you’re still asleep. Unfortunately for you, Dean isn’t known for his gentle and coddling nature.

“Care to tell me what happened? And why you came here of all places?” His gruff voice wouldn’t let you escape his questions.

Sighing, you begin to sit up, gasping loudly at the sudden pain in your side as you collapse back onto the bed, tears springing into your eyes. You feel an arm steady your shoulder and another grab a pillow to prop up behind you. “Easy now, don’t ruin all my hard work.” When you finally get settled, you let out a breath in relief. The spots fade slowly from your line of sight only for you to see a glass of water and a hand held out in your direction. You tentatively take the water and suspiciously eye his hand. He rolls his eyes and flips your free hand over to drop Tylenol tablets into it. You look him in the eye gratefully before taking the pills and drinking some much needed water. At long last, you relax into your pillows and settle yourself in to answer his questions.

“Well as you can probably guess, I was attacked. I was walking home from a bar and some guy walked up behind me and pressed a knife to my back. I tried to run, but he caught me and gave me that pretty present you stitched up.”

Dean considers your story before following up with more questions. “Okay, how did you get away?”

“I think I spelled him? I'm sure it was very weak whatever I did, but it distracted him.” You can't remember what you had actually done, you just know you had recited the first spell you could think of before dashing away into the woods when he let go of you.

He nods. “Why come here?”

This one is harder to answer. How do you explain that even though they don't like you, you trust them intrinsically? “I didn't know where else to go.” He seems to accept that answer before glancing away.

“Do you know why?” He asks.

This is also difficult to answer. You know that the Winchester's are good men, that's why you came to them in your time of need. You know they would probably like you a lot more if they knew the kind of people you targeted. You also know, however, that they will be skeptical of you at best. For some reason, your pride won't let you put it out in the open only to almost certainly be questioned and disbelieved.

You didn't know the man last night, but you can guess his motives. You shrug at him before answering vaguely. “Probably revenge or lashing out in fear. Who's to say?”

“Revenge for what? Why would he fear you?” Dean leans towards you in his chair, intrigued.

“Maybe I hurt one of his buddies. Maybe he was wronged by a witch. Maybe he knows he's done something wrong.” A mirthless smirk appears on your lips as you look at the hunter.

“What on earth are you talking about?” He seems frustrated at your lack of a straight answer, but you can't bring yourself to attempt to combat his prejudice against witches. You can't really blame him for it if you're honest with yourself. Hell, you didn't trust most men for similar reasons.

“Don't worry about it. What matters is I'll be out of your hair and you don't need to deal with me anymore, just give me a few minutes.” You are aware that trying to move will be unbearable, but you know how much he probably wants you to leave.

Before you can even try to sit up further, Dean is standing over you and gently pushing your shoulders back. For such a rough and tough man he is surprisingly soft in his touch. You gaze quizzically at him as he holds you down. “Whether we like it or not, you're in no condition to try to leave. You're gonna have to stay here until you heal a little more.”

You are left utterly speechless at the idea of staying with the boys for an extended period of time. “I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own, don’t worry about me.” You really don’t want to try to live with two men who seem to resent what you are.

“I’m not so much of a dick that I expect you to try to take care of yourself when you can barely even move. I’ll let you leave when you show me that you don’t need any help for normal activities.” He says all of this with the air of authority that only someone who has taken care of others their whole life can possess.

Not wanting to seem intimidated, you raise an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think you can keep me here if I don’t want to stay?”

He smiles at you like you’re a child who doesn’t understand the world. “I’m pretty good at what I do. Besides, I don’t think it’s about me keeping you here, it’s about the fact that you can barely move, let alone walk your way out of here.” You’re annoyed that you feel chastised by his reasoning. You know that he’s right, you felt it when you tried to sit, how much it would hurt to move. You glower at your blanket, accepting your fate (but not happy about it).

Tag(s): @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #spn #supernatural #supernatural imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fem reader #lonelyandlovelorn

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jj-lynn21 · 5 years ago

Text

You will remember things that we never said ch 1

Starring college rocker Axel Cluney

Music by Dolly Trauma: Morla , LIGHT BULB

Character idea Billofourtime

Detrimental behavior courtesy of my college years lol

photo by @hiddlelecki

Warnings: aloofness, vulgar language/behavior, complete lyrics to songs

ch 2 ch 3 ch 4 ch 5 ch 6 ch 7

Stephanie Westin had aspiration of becoming a great writer. She wasn’t sure a University degree in anything would help her. According to her family and friends that was the only place to go next. So, she applied to major in creative writing and minor in art. She was able to get a scholarship that paid for her courses, books and even included a meal stipend. She planned to work hard. Take the maximum load of courses each semester and be done in two years, maybe three at the most.

Axel Cluney never had anything handed to him. He worked his ass off from the time he could find a job outside of the house. He washed dishes in restaurants, mowed lawns and painted houses but when his Dad’s buddy, Derick, let him work in his tattoo parlor he had found his calling. That’s how Derick would put it anyway. Axel just liked the job didn’t get in the way of his other creative outlet, His band Zeigeist.

It was Derick who encouraged Axel strongly to get a degree in business with a minor in art so he could take over the tattoo parlor when Derick retired. Axel reluctantly agreed. Derick had practically raised him when his Dad ditched town a few years after his Mother passed away. Axel was fourteen and just wanted to quit school to go look for his Dad who never treated him very well anyway. Derick convinced Axel not to quit. He encouraged him to do better than Axel ever thought he could. He was a better Dad to him than his Dad ever was, which Axel never told him.

The first week of classes. Neither Stephanie nor Axel knew where anything was located. When they finally found room twelve in the creative art’s building, they almost bumped right into each other reaching the door at the same time from opposite sides. They looked at each other a second. Stephanie smiled. Axel just had a blank look on his face as he opened the door and let her go through first.

She sat up front in her fitted blue jeans and red V-neck long-sleeved t-shirt. He sat in the back in his long sleeve black turtleneck and dark denim jeans. She still noticed the tattoos on his hands and fingers. Also, how his green eyes seemed to make her nervous. Axel noticed how her wavy blonde hair fell to the opening of her shirt revealing the tops of her ample breasts. He licked his lips absentmindedly.

Come Thursday evening Stephanie already felt overwhelmed with schoolwork. The syllabuses she received from each class had reading assignments and project deadlines for the whole semester. But since she had the work in front of her she thought she would just get it all done in a few days or maybe weeks other than the tests she would have to wait for instructors to give her. She shared a dorm room with Bella. She only had seen her briefly at the beginning of the week.

“We are going to be great friends,” Bella hugged Stephanie tight when they first met. “We will have great adventures. Working towards a goal is great but you have to live life girl.”

Stephanie laughed at Bella uncomfortably. Stephanie likes her privacy bubble and studying towards her goals just fine. There would be time to “live life” later.

Bella opened Stephanie’s bedroom door when she got to their dorm room, “Come on and get ready Steph. Its Thursday night. You have all weekend to study. You need to go see my friends band play at Hide & Seek. We can walk so we can stumble back drunk if need be.” She laughed.

Stephanie looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. “I’m fine. I just started organizing my studying, so I get the most done in the least amount of time. I have an art project due in a week. I need to do a portrait of someone interesting. So…”

“I will find you lots of interesting people.” Bella said. “It will be like your studying to find that perfect portrait specimen. You go this one time and if you don’t enjoy yourself, I will never ask you to come party with me again.”

Stephanie looks at her new roommate exasperated, “alright, I’ll go. What kind of music does your friends band play?”

“My friend, Rick, is in a metal band called Dark Breed.” Bella brushed her long ebony hair.

Stephanie took her hair down from the bun she always wore when studying. Then brushed it out adding a bit of shine oil to bring her waves back to life. Both girls touched up their makeup in the mirror.

“You are so easy to share the mirror with Steph.” She touched up her mascara. “Your so short I can see right over you.”

“Thanks,” Stephanie put some light pink natural looking lip stain on your lips. She wasn’t sure if what Bella said was really a complement, but she tried to look past short girl jokes she has been hearing all her life.

It’s a great evening for a walk. The air is crisp with fall smells as Stephanie and Bella walk to the club. Bella goes on and on about the club she is taking Stephanie to and how the people just welcome everyone that aren’t critical of others. As soon as they walk in Stephanie hears the buzz of amps being setup. Some drummer practicing beating down hard on his set. And a guitar being tuned. She doesn’t even glance towards the stage as she paid five dollars and Bella pulls her over to introduce her to her friend that plays bass.

Stephanie heard some guitar, bass and drums form a song. Then a familiar voice starts to sing.

“Stick around. Talk to him. I would kill for love. I would kill for love. Stick around, for what you miss. He will spread you love, spread you…”

Stephanie looks up hearing the beautiful vocal backed up by a heavier sound. It’s the guy that opened the door for her Monday. He is covered in elaborate tattoos. His voice easily grabs Stephanie as everyone else around her continue to talk.

“Don’t believe in us from then. I will kill for love. Kill for love. Who are you now turning me down, turning me down, as long as you can cum we can fuck all night, as long as you cum we can fuck…”

Bella finally notices Stephanie’s infatuation with the sound. She smirks as she stands behind her with her hands-on Stephanie’s shoulder. “I told you, you would like it here.”

Stephanie said in a voice not quite comprehending her surroundings, “Yeah.”

“That’s Zeitgeist.” Bella said. “The singer is Axel. He’s hot, right?”

“He’s in one of my classes.” Stephanie said.

The song continues to play. “as long as you can cum we can fuck…they all want your legs, they all want your legs facing the moon…But do they cum into you…”

The crowd in front of the stage is moving to the music. The next song they perform starts off slow enough. But a mosh pit starts to circle. Rick and his guy friends stand in front of Stephanie and Bella so they can enjoy the music without having to be involved in the malay.

Axel starts in a soft voice, “Muscle was your man, and through your self-arising plan, you took this kindness that I showed in places special to their core, and shoved me out of your promising timeline, after give me those good signs, stranger tell me why you picked my brain to ask just where you might find…” The song starts to crescendo. The mosh pit starts to bounce off each other. “Come again my snow-white shroud, I will take your hand and you will say…” Axel’s voice gets gravely and deep as the pit starts bang into each other roughly and the music increases intensity. “My first seven days, my first breath of pain, you self-loathing bitch, your cut with need no stitch…” The music intensifies on as Axel bang his head holding the mic away. The pit goes nuts until the music slows again for another bridge of the song before Axel ends it with a howling scream while the people in the pit go nuts.

It’s the most amazing experience Stephanie ever felt at a concert and she had been going to concerts from right before she was born. Her Dad is a hippie rocker that took her to see Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd. Her mom is more into main-stream nineteen-seventies music taking her to see Captain and Tennille in which they let her sit and pet their dog on stage when she was a baby while they sang Muskrat love. And her name was already in a song that played on the radio because her mom and dad knew the singer. Her mom sat at the piano while the singer wrote the song and asked about her daughter. And that’s how her name got in the song.

Axel jumps off stage as his band cleans up their equipment. Some guy screams, “Hey Axel, sounds like you need some Pussy.”

Axel screams back at the guy, “Its not quantity. Its quality. And your girl is fucking finger licking good.” He licks his middle and index finger before flipping the guy off. Then he turns seeing Stephanie a few feet away. He freezes like a deer in headlights.

Bella said, “Hey Axel, I guess you have seen Steph around but not been really introduced.”

Axel gains his composure. Stares with a hard ass look on his face and just nods. He leans over Stephanie to whisper something in Rick’s ear. He crosses his arms when he stands back up straight. Glance at Stephanie a second. Looks back at Rick, “Well?”

“Yeah, we can start with that, Axel.” Rick said. “Just tell your lead.”

Axel jumps back on the stage and whispers something to his lead guitar player before disappearing into the restroom. Rick takes his leave from Stephanie and Bella to get ready to play. Bella heads to the front of the stage. Stephanie is right beside her. A few husky guys get between them and the ever growing mosh pit. Axel’s band’s guitar player is on stage with Dark breed. So, there is two guitar players, bass, and drums as the lead singer for Dark Breed, Mick, takes the stage.

“We’re going to do something special for you tonight.” He said. “We only performed this with Axel & Todd one other time. Maybe some of you saw that performance. It’s called Light Bulb.”

The crowd goes crazy as Axel steps out on the stage again. “Fuck you Axel,” Stephanie heard someone say. Axel flipped them off. He paces the stage as he prepared. Mick paced the opposite way. They both look like caged tigers ready to devour the crowd if let off the stage. There is silence in the room as the music begins.

Mick starts low just saying, “suffocate” in the back ground as Axel starts to sing, “Insatiable you pay again, for nothing for nothing, spongin the blood without defense, for nothing, for nothing, and all of this is on your knees, for nothing, for nothing, pulling the sheets over her feet, for nothing, for nothing.”

Mick whispers into his mic, “anguish, alone. suffocate”

Axel continues, “Your saving her, eight times a day, for nothing, for nothing, and when your late you must explain, for nothing, for nothing, you suffocate, you suffocate, for nothing, for nothing…On your own time, such a long time, It’s alright, broken ones enjoy those chains, And don’t fight, nothing ever gets away…”

Stephanie finds herself getting emotional over the melodic song. Bella sees her and stands behind Stephanie holding her. They sway as the song continues.

Axel sings, “Don’t say the word love. I remember you when you were alone, and you seemed as happy then. It’s alright, broken ones enjoy those chains, And, don’t fight, nothing ever gets away…from here…”

“From here,” growls Mick in the background.

Axel and Mick sing, “I don’t think I need this, just go away. And I’m sure I need this. Won’t you please stay…”

#rocker axel #axel cluney #alternative rock #metal #punk #fiction #fantasy #college life #au axel #original story #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård edit #bill skarsgård smut #bill skarsgard art

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