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yourmidnightlover · 3 years ago

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all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

@spencerreid9

@spencyreidpls

@spencerreid9

@spencersmagic

@calm-and-doctor

@the-local-pendeja

@spencersrose

@spencersmagic

@shemarmooresfedora

@pastelbabygirl19

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw abortion #tw abortion mention #tw depressive thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

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barnes-dameron · 4 years ago

Note

i just read your mando x reader with hypothermia and i absolutely loved it!! it is one of my favorite tropes 😩 can i request a steve x reader with hypothermia? bc after reading that one and absolutely loving it, all i want is your take on how steve would react! i love you and your writing so much!! thank you 🥰🥰

Warming Up

*not my gif

Steve Rogers x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: So sorry this took so long. I wrote a good portion of it, and then 75% of it got deleted! I haven’t written anything in the Marvel universe in awhile, so this was a nice surprise. Pre-endgame, pre-infinity war, pre-Civil War. Gender neutral reader

***

Steve trod towards the Quinjet through the deep snow. The cold biting at his cheeks turning them to a rose pink, and his pants from the knees down were soaked. It was a simple mission in Northern Canada, during the time of the year where the snow was heavy and the wind was harsh. He told you to stay in the jet so at least you could stay warm. As he approached the quinjet, Steve’s heart began to pick up despite the cold when he saw that the light in the quinjet was off.

Steve began to sprint across the wintery landscape, kicking up snow as he ran towards the quinjet. Why was it not running? Why is there no sound? Why is the light in the cockpit off? He hurriedly opened up the hatch, the interior of the jet setting a chill down his spine; not from the cold but the thought of you silently suffering in this freezing temperature. It was enough to cause Steve to panic.

He opened the hatch to the Quinjet, and ran up the ramp, surprised to feel how cold it was; almost as cold as it was outside. The interior was dark, the only source of light coming from the windshield in the cockpit. Steve looked around and could not see the shape of your body in the haul. Treading carefully, he made his way to the cockpit.

Steve hated the cold. He couldn’t remember much from his years being preserved in frozen ice, but the mere memory of his plane going down was enough for him to loathe it. He did remember shivering, the frigid air enveloping him, and his body systems shutting down causing him to sleep and wake up decades later. It was torture for him to be trapped. He thought that was how he would die, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone...especially not you.

Steve entered the cockpit, and finding you in the pilot’s seat, his heart dropping at the sight. You were curled up, huddled in the chair. Your skin was a paler color than usual, your body was shivering, goosebumps covered your skin, and your teeth clattered softly behind your frozen lips. Steve reached out a hand, pressing it to your cheek, and immediately retracting it after the brief contact. You were ice cold. Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve touched you again, placing two fingers on your inner wrist. He concentrated on finding your pulse, but it was weak barely even there.

Quickly, Steve dragged you off of the chair and settled you on the floor. The window must’ve been the source; the cold air was seeping in. He noted that in his mind, making sure to let Tony know. Steve positioned your side to rest on his chest as he settled down on the floor next to you. He positioned your knees to press against your chest, while encircling your own arms around him. He then wrapped his arms around your figure, pressing you into his warmth. He placed your head to rest in the crook of his neck so the warmth of his breath could began to warm your face.

As Steve held you in his arms on the Quinjet floor, his thoughts began to bombard him one by one. Why did he take so long on this mission? It was hardly a mission, mostly reconnaissance. He was supposed to scope out the area to see if the target of a potential threat were to show, but he didn’t. Steve could’ve left his post early, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. You wouldn’t be cold, and the both of you would be far away from here. Why didn’t he learn how to manage the Quinjet? Or just learn the basics for that matter? Whenever the Avengers went out on a mission, it was usually Tony or Sam piloting or handling the general maintenance and mechanics of the aircraft. His only experience was back in the 40′s, and he crashed that one. If he knew these things, he could’ve gotten the system working by now, filling the haul with heat and flying you back home. However, the only person who knew anything about the Quinjet was in his arms.

It was all those reasons that Steve felt so helpless at this moment. Being a hero or even portrayed as a hero means that people automatically assume that he has no fear, and in truth, he didn’t have much to fear, except right now. The mere thought of losing you caused Steve’s head to pound with anxiety. And seeing you like this, frozen and fragile on the brink of death, it was enough to make his blood run cold even though the temperature outside failed to do so already.

He didn’t know how long he stayed on that floor, praying for you to be okay and wake up from your slumber, willing all the heat from his body to leave him and go to you. Steve himself was beginning to doze off until he felt a shift in movement from between his arms.

“S-S-t-t-eve?” you whispered, your teeth still chattering as you did so.

Steve looked down to your face. Your eyes were barely open, but he could the pools of color beneath the eyelids. Hope surged within him as well as a burst of energy.

“Hey,” he cooed, rubbing his hands over your arms. “Hey, it’s me. What happened here?”

“I-I-I d-d-don’t-t-t k-know,” you stuttered out, snuggling closer to his warmth. “I-I-I f-fell asleep-p w-w-waiting-g f-for y-you.”

Steve nodded, then rested his head on top of yours.

“Can you move at all?” he asked.

“I-I c-can m-move m-my f-f-fingers,” you answered, holding up a weak hand and wiggling them before his eyes. “B-but n-not-t m-my arm-s or l-legs.”

Steve nodded again, looking around the cockpit, his eyes settling on a black trunk in the corner. He unwrapped his arms from around you and began to shuffle away, towards the trunk.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, making sure you wouldn’t fall over.

You stayed put as he made his way to the box, opening it to find contents of an emergency kit inside. He ruffled through the various objects, only picking up what he needed. Steve withdrew a flashlight, a thermal blanket, a tool kit, and a small portable heater that didn’t need to be plugged into anything. He returned to his spot beside you, wrapping you in the blanket and turning on the heater, directing it so the heat hits you. Steve resumed to his previous position, giving you all the warmth you need to feel normal.

Steve didn’t measure the time passing by using a clock, but more so with your little achievements. After some time, you were able to move your limbs so that they were spread out instead of close to your body. After more time, you were able to move them around with full range of motion. Then after a while, you were able to speak without your teeth chattering. Every little thing brought joy to Steve as he saw light returning to your eyes, and color to your face.

When you were ready, you got up, grabbed the tool kit, and went to fix what was broken on the jet. Steve trailed behind you, and stayed close to you the whole time. Feeding you tools when you asked for them, watching over your shoulder both to learn from you and admire how smart you are. It didn’t take long for the jet to come back to life; the lights flickering on, the engine beginning to hum, and the heat once again warming the interior. Smiling at your accomplishment, Steve helped you get to the cockpit, your limbs still a little weak and stiff, and settled you in the pilot’s seat. He watched you attentively as you brought the jet into the air and set the coordinates to the Avengers compound.

“Let’s get away from this Godforsaken place,” you sighed heavily.

“Please,” Steve responded, settling in the passenger’s seat somewhat besides yours. It was quiet in the Quinjet as you flew the craft back home. The events that occurred began to settle and weigh on Steve. He could’ve lost you. He remembered the slow pulse of your heart rate. If he would’ve placed his fingers on your wrist and felt nothing, he didn’t know what he would do... with you or himself. Steve looked up to see your profile outlined from the gradual returning light, your eyes shining with life, and he smiled. “I’m sorry.”

He watched as you turned your head back to look at him, confusion traced in your eyes as you furrowed your brows at him.

“For what?” you asked.

“It’s my fault that you nearly froze to death,” he began, reverting his eyes a bit towards his lap. “It’s my fault that-”

“Was it your fault that the Quinjet powered down?” you questioned, your tone shifting to a more serious one, causing Steve to look up and meet your gaze.

“No,” he answered softly.

You gave him a lopsided smile, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Then it wasn’t your fault, Steve,” you replied. “Just because you’re Captain America doesn’t mean you have to carry all the world’s burdens.”

“I was just so scared,” Steve revealed. “You were so cold, I thought I might’ve lost you. If I did, I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself.”

“But I’m okay,” you reassured, giving him another smile. “Your love warmed me up.”

Steve let out a little chuckle before turning his gaze to the window. It was not often that he got shy or bashful, but you always knew how to make him feel that way. Steve felt heat rise to his cheeks, knowing that his face was probably pink by know, but he didn’t care. The rest of the ride was ridden in a comfortable silence, leaving the events that transpired in the cold. The only thing that matter was love’s warmth that was present within the jet.

***

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me @notabotiswear

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #Steve Rogers #marvel #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #fluff #writing #fanfic #marvel fanfic

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detectivereyes · 3 years ago

Text

I Watched the Leaves Go From Green to Grey

Summary: When TK gets anxious, he gets into fights.

Notes: for the self-harm square on my @badthingshappenbingo card, or my interpretation of it bc i didn’t want to write a traditional “self harm�� fic yk

beta’d by @marjansmarwani and also s/o to loml @seaoflittlefires for providing her objective perspective and fixing all my past/present tense issues 💗

word count: 2.3k

read on ao3

If you asked TK, the first time it happened was definitely an accident.

He wasn’t planning on getting into a fight, and he wasn’t even that high. Instead he found himself riding out the tail end of a high in some dingy bar in the East Village, trying to numb the pain with whatever alcohol the bartender would give him with a quick flash of his fake ID. At only 16, he knew he didn’t look 21, but the bartender didn’t ask or didn’t care.

It started with a simple misplacement of his elbow, brushing up too close against the glass of whiskey belonging to the burly man sitting next to him. He didn’t even realize what had happened until he heard the glass shatter on the floor between them.

He started to stutter out some form of an apology but not before he felt a flash of pain hit his face, radiating through his lower jaw until his body collided with the ground. Though he was caught off guard, the pain he’s feeling didn’t feel wrong. In fact it made him feel alive.

He hopped back up, managing to throw in a few punches of his own until more of the burly man's friends showed up and he couldn't decipher which direction the blows were coming from. But with each punch or kick, he felt more empowered. Each freshly formed bruise serving as a reminder that he wasn’t actually numb.

He was here, and he was alive.

Fortunately, he had managed to sneak out before the cops showed up. Unfortunately, the bruises did not go unnoticed by his mom or dad. Though they didn’t press too hard, he knew he would have to be more careful next time.

He never forgot the outlet getting into fights provided. A way to not only relieve the numbness, but relieve stress and have the pain on the outside match what he felt on the inside.

He didn’t get into fights that often, only when the pain built up too much and he needed to let it out somehow. Or sometimes he used it as a way to just quiet the anxious thoughts when substances no longer did the trick.

Even after he got clean, he would occasionally find himself back in some random bar that he hadn’t managed to get himself kicked out of yet. Every bar had at least one drunk asshole who he knew would be easy to pick a fight with.

He quickly learned the right words to trigger the perfect reaction. He also got better ducking and throwing his own punches, and hiding the bruises that did form on his skin until his parents no longer noticed or worried about him.

When he arrived in Austin, he figured it would only be a matter of time before he found himself in a dingy bar on the outskirts of town, opposite of the bar the team frequented to avoid any chance of running into a familiar face.

The numb feeling and colorless vision was too much and Judd’s words only served to exacerbate the pain he was feeling inside. He attempted to fight Judd, knowing his larger frame could do a lot of damage and would do the trick. But he should have known the other man wouldn’t fight back, instead holding him close so he couldn’t do any damage until Paul broke them up.

As soon as the shift ended, TK all but ran into the Uber. The tension in his body wound up too tight and he knew it wouldn’t settle until he got in a fight.

The fight itself was a blur, but what happened next wasn’t. As he walked out of the police station with his bag of belongings and busted lip still pulsing in pain, Carlos’ words rang in his ear.

You should talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal.

Was it suicidal? He always saw it as a way to remind himself that he was alive, not trying to die. But he'd also never met someone who cared so much about his well being.

The police officers he usually ran into during his fights never seemed to give a shit about why he did what he did. And if the guys he hooked up with noticed the busted lips or black eyes, they never said anything.

Carlos checked both of those boxes, yet seemed genuinely concerned with what TK was getting himself into.

That was when he knew things would be different here.

And they were for a time. For a while the color returned into his life and the pain that he had grown so accustomed to settled into a dull ache that he barely noticed.

But like everything else, the good could never last. And soon enough the pain grew more noticeable and he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. He needed to know he wasn't numb. He needed to feel pain. He needed to fight.

So he found himself in another dingy bar, much similar to the one he went to when he got to Austin over a year ago. He knew he shouldn’t be there. He had to call someone. But Carlos was on shift and his dad was on a date and while both would have probably picked up in a heartbeat, he couldn't do that to them. And anyone else he could have called wouldn’t understood or known what to do.

He knew what he had to do.

On muscle memory he ran through his routine, spouting out the perfect words to trigger the reaction he craved.

After only a few blows to the face, the punches stopped and the fight broke up as the cops arrived. He scanned the area, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn't see Carlos’ familiar brown eyes, and managed to slip out the back before anyone noticed.

The Uber ride from the bar back to his and Carlos’ home passed by in a blur. If his driver noticed the purple bruises likely beginning to blossom on his face, she didn't say anything.

He made a beeline to the bathroom as soon as he walked through the door, hoping that the damage wasn't bad enough that he couldn't cover it up. There was no way Carlos wouldn't notice, but if cleaned it up a bit and came up with a good story, it might not be as bad.

Flipping on the light switch TK frowned at his reflection. While there were a few scattered bruises all over his body, the worst by far was the one forming around his eye, already turning a lovely shade of deep purple. Above his eye was a short but deep gash, stretching across his eyebrow.

Well, that definitely wouldn't go unnoticed.

TK sighed, rifling through the medicine cabinet until he found the box of butterfly bandaids. He knew it probably would need stitches, but if he could avoid a trip to the ER tonight, that would be ideal, and these bandages would do the trick for now. He carefully placed two on his eyebrow, hissing at the contact as the wound closed. He then shut off the light and settled on the living room sofa, waiting for Carlos to come home.

By the time he heard the jiggling of keys in the door, a few hours had passed and he had nearly fallen asleep under the soft blanket on the couch. He panicked for a second, not quite ready for Carlos’ reaction when he saw TK’s face.

On impulse, he ducked under the blanket before the door swung open. He could see the light switch on and Carlos’ outlined shape from beneath the cover.

“Babe? What’s going on?” he asked. TK could sense he had stopped in front of the couch but was refraining from coming any closer.

“Don’t freak out,” was all TK could manage to say, and he could only imagine the confusion painting his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m freaking out that you won’t tell me what’s going on,” he stated matter of factly.

TK sighed before slowly pulling down the blanket and peeking his head out, giving Carlos a sheepish grin.

Carlos’ eyes widened in concern as he sat down next to TK, gently running his fingers over TK’s swollen eye. “What happened, baby?”

“Combative patient,” the lie rolled too easily off his tongue. “Woke up while we were treating him and took a swing at me.”

“I see,” Carlos nodded slowly. “And these other bruises?” he added, trailing his hand over the blossoming bruises on TK’s neck and arms. When he reached his torso, he didn't miss the way TK winced at the contact. TK hadn't even realized how sore he was.

“Must have fallen a little bit in the scuffle,” he shrugged.

Carlos hummed along to TK’s response. TK tried to get a read on what Carlos was making of his story. It was a pretty good one if he gave himself any credit, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Carlos just wasn't buying it.

“You know how people get when they’re caught off guard,” he quickly added, panicking when he realized he should be adding more details before Carlos could doubt him anymore.

Carlos though remained silent, studying him carefully.

“We’re here to help them but they don’t always realize that right away,” he laughed nervously, hoping Carlos wasn't catching on to his anxious rambling.

“TK,” Carlos trailed off, his eyebrows pinching together in worry. He knew something was off, and there was no getting out of it.

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, he decided to dam break. He launched into the whole story about how he felt so on edge after his shift and he didn’t know what else to do, which is why he fell back into old habits. Carlos listened intently as he explained what happened when he showed up at the bar and instigated the fight, and ducking out he could get caught.

“I’m so sorry, Carlos. Please don’t be mad,” he said at the end of his rant, still shaking with adrenaline while he waited to see how Carlos would handle hearing the truth.

Carlos sighed, gently rubbing TK’s shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, TK.”

“You’re not?” TK said, sniffling.

“No, but I am concerned at why you didn’t think you could call me. And then why you felt like you had to lie about it.”

TK shrugged. “I’m just kind of used to bottling it up, I guess.”

“But you should know you can talk to me about this kind of stuff.”

“I do! But sometimes it just gets to be so much that I don’t know what else to do and I need a way to let it all out.”

“What gets to be so much?” Carlos cocked his head to the side.

“Everything,” TK quickly responded, as if that clarified anything he was saying. He knew he wasn't making much sense and Carlos was trying his best to understand. But TK didn't know how else to describe the way he was feeling. Like a row of tightly wound string, one pluck away from snapping.

“TK, what happened that made you want to get into a fight tonight?” Carlos asked.

“I,” TK started to answer but stopped himself when he realized he didn't even have a good answer. He'd never stopped to consider the reasons for why he felt this way. All he knew was that he felt like he was about to explode and he needed a good way to release it. “I don’t know.”

Carlos nodded, and TK could only admire the patience his boyfriend had with him. The tears started to well up in his eyes and he took some shaky breaths as Carlos pulled him close into a hug, letting him sob into his broad chest.

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” he whispered softly into TK’s ear. “But I think it is important to examine why you do feel this way. And to realize when it starts to get bad so it doesn’t happen again.”

TK pulled away from Carlos’ embrace, nodding and wiping back the tears while doing so. “It just feels like there’s always this pain, and sometimes I don’t notice it but other times it’s so much that I need to do something about it. And I can’t do the other stuff I used to do to deal with it, but getting into these fights… I don’t know, it helps. Which probably doesn’t make any sense but it’s better than some of my other coping mechanisms.”

Carlos gave him a sympathetic look. “TK, it might not be drugs, but you are just as likely to get hurt.”

TK looked down, nervous squeezing his hands, unsure of how to respond to Carlos’ observations.

“It’s not healthy,” he continued. “I need you to promise me you will call next time. It doesn’t matter what time, or if I’m on shift, or I’m asleep. Talk to me about it. And talk to me about what you’re feeling all the time so we can try to prevent it getting this bad. Okay?”

TK nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” Carlos tilted TK’s head up so they matched each other's gaze. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I know,” he gave Carlos a small smile. “I appreciate it, and your patience with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. We’re a team, and I want to help you in whatever way possible. I love you, TK”

TK melted under Carlos’ soft brown eyes and genuine smile. “I love you too, Carlos.”

#bad things happen bingo #badthingshappenbingo #self harm #911 lone star #911lonestarfic #my fic #userjillian #userbones #tuserpaige #usermaximus #userjilly #userkimmy #moviegeek03 #also hey anon if you have an issue with this fic #you are welcome to discuss it with me off anon #bc that function has been shut off #so you now must show your face (so to speak)#but i am 100% open to hearing you out on what you think the issue is here.

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astriefer · 4 years ago

Note

“Please hold me.” for thomastair (ofc bc that's what you said) 🥺

Thank you for this! @littlx-songbxrd you asked for this as well. I'm sorry it's so bad.

~~~~~

Trust me with thy heart

Pairing: Thomastair

Words: 4,537

Contains mild angst, some self harm and hurt/comfort.

Note I am awful at writing angst or hurt/comfort. This whole poor writing is based on miscommunication, much or less, or the fear to let others close.

~~~~~

Thomas wasn't fond of fights.

Demons were one thing. Their destiny as Shadowhunters was to protect mankind from those filthy monsters who invade their world. They brought disorder and death. The people he cared about were a different tale.

A light jest with his friends, why not? A banter with his father about taking the coat or not while going outside? Sure. But not a very tumultuous, tempestuous strife with them. He preferred them all to get along with each other.

Thomas liked even less when it was him involved in the disagreement.

He spent the last day jogging between massive training seasons, hanging out with his friends, and losing himself in his thoughts. Now, he avoided everyone in favor of reading Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He made a special effort to tell no one where he was going, so non could bother him and ask him questions.

So Thomas was stunned when Ariadne Bridgestock, of all people, rushed through the entry in an unmatched combination of grace and ivory skirts, then flopped herself onto the armchair in front of Thomas.

While she had had a pleasant expression on her face, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. If Thomas hadn't known better, he would've sworn she came here to murder him.

"You and Alastair fought," she stated.

Thomas glanced between his book to her determined face twice, considering his options. Then, on behalf of good manners, he put a bookmark on the current page he pretended to be reading for half an hour. "Is it Alastair's way to tell me to speak to him? If so, please tell him not to embroil any other folks in our relationship."

"He hadn't sent me," Ariadne ignored the last part of his sentence. "But he did not arrive for our conclave."

A spark of concern lightened up in Thomas, yet he repressed it. He was angry with Alastair, Thomas reminded himself. "And what have you speculated I can do about it?"

She looked at him funny. "Talk to him, I presume."

"Ariadne," he tried, weariness falling heavy on him. "While I appreciate your concern, I doubt Alastair wants to see me. In fact, I doubt whether I want to see him right now. I know you confide in each other-" more than Alastair does with him, the bitter thought tore its way into his head. "And your intentions are well, but I will highly prefer to keep this between myself and Alastair."

He thought this would give her down and make her apologize. "Alastair wouldn't have sent someone else, and he didn't solicit help from myself," she said instead. "He would've given time to you both to collect your minds, and then come to you in clearer mind."

It was right. He knew it was. "So this parley is all you?"

"As I said, Yes. I worried for my friend, who happened to be your partner."

Thomas brushed his thumb on the spine of the book, musing over her words. "Why would you be worried?"

"He stood me up. I came by your flat later, just for him to say nothing has happened. When I asked where you were, he conceded you two had a big bump in the road."

"That's a nice way to put it," Thomas murmured. "I frankly wished to be left alone. It's nothing-"

"Thomas," Her amber eyes met hazel ones. "You are good at many things. Fighting demons, and keeping the rest of the Thieves out of trouble, for example."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Lying is not one of them."

Thomas swallowed, endeavoring to hide the feeling of hurt off his face. Recalling what happened a few days before made his whole body ache in pain. "So Alastair and I had a row. It always happens with lads."

"It's not just a lad for you," she pressed. He was wide aware of the chastisement in her words. "It's Alastair. And never have I seen him the way he looked when I checked on him."

"What do you mean?" he asked after he perceived her words. "Alastair was absolutely fine when I left the flat."

"You have to see for yourself." Ariadne said, "Go to him."

Despite the knots formed in the abdomen, he dithered. "Things ended up stormy when we last spoke. Maybe he's still mad. Maybe I'm still mad."

It wasn't just Alastair who was mad. He wondered how Alastair had been this past day, and how was he feeling, among many other thoughts. Yet the cloud of exhaustion and hurt surrounding him perturbated the nervousness. He was allowed to be upset about what happened. It sure wasn't nothing. Not on his part, at most. Why couldn't Alastair just-

"Excuses are not appreciated," Ariadne announced, "So you better confront him already, or I swear I shall chase you to the end of the Earth with my electrum whip." Ariadne threatened, and that what had taken to wake Thomas out of his hesitation.

"Of course," he sighed, "Because I don't have enough troubles already."

She brushed it off again with a smile, and Thomas felt mildly annoyed. He hadn't shown it. "Sort it out. It will benefit the two of you to tackle the problem."

She left no place for arguments. Utterly abandoning the book, Thomas rose to his feet and went to leave the room.

He was glad to get out of the grip of this confusing confab, but he was even more unsure if to listen to her advice.

He was still angry with Alastair.

~~~~~

A veil of fog surrounded the city. It was a prevalent London day, cool and cloudy. The wind is blowing hard, welcoming passersby in a burst of freezing breeze. A thunderstorm on its way, they said.

But those were the last of things that perturbed Alastair's peace of mind. It matched his mood just fine. If someone was to describe him, curled up on his bed alone, he could imagine being portrayed as forlorn and tormented.

No, what bothered him was a particular someone that left and hasn't returned. Alastair hated he still hoped Thomas would return and make him less cold.

His breath was heavy, and his lungs burned like fire. He remembered words that haunted him for weeks in the past. I believed you were more than what others said about you. I conceived myself beneath all the harsh words, was someone with a kind soul waiting to be seen. Was it all a lie I told myself?

Darkness flooded his senses. Trying to get any portion of self-control on his body he could, Alastair rose to his feet, glancing out of the window on unsteady legs without seeing anything at all. Gather yourself together.

But the words burned deep then, and they burned deep now. That was a battle against himself he meant to lose. The cold spread not only from the world beyond the window but from within him. It pulled out his ugly head, writhing and furious, desperately trying to break free and rise to the surface. People walked in the streets, oblivious to his troubles just as he was to theirs.

Thomas wasn't there.

Thomas wasn't there, and Cordelia wasn't there, and anyone he loved wasn't there. He locked himself in their flat for the past day, overthinking and speculating and wondering why did he have to be the way he is. If Thomas had finally realized he deserved someone so much better than Alastair, would he be surprised? Alastair was aware of this fact too well. The way he looked at him when they fought, the shaky hands when he opened the door, and the hours of waiting in case Thomas will return, just for nothing to happen. What does it mean if not that Alastair finally made Thomas give up and leave?

This inner part of him was crying, demanded to be heard, to be set free. A shrill cry came to his ears, and it took him a moment to perceive it belonged to him.

His vision became vague, his head ached, and everything spun around. He tried to lay a hand on the wall - only to find he miscalculated the distance and fell ungracefully on his knees. His heart pounded in his chest while the darkness tried to pull him in; He tried to take a breath and dozens of small knives tore his lungs up. He shrank, gasping for air that didn't come.

Everything seemed blurry, all his mind could engross in was the words Thomas Lightwood told him, the cold truth dripping from them, freezing Alastair all over again.

Alastair was accountable for all the hideous things he'd done and said, unquestionably. How weak is he that he hides behind shallow faces and vicious words? What a dolt he is, hurting a person, mainly the only person outside of his family that seemed to genuinely care for him. His words rang in his head, Thomas's voice haunting every corner.

He sank lower, his breathing gurgling, reaching out in search of something stable, something that would serve as a pillar in the chaos that ensued around him. His hand extended out to the still air and then groped for something to hold on the floor. That came the way of a cold, sharp object that lay on the ground. He gripped it tightly, and he groaned in pain and relief at the physical ache that eased his mind.

"Alastair?" A voice called.

~~~~~

Thomas was about to lose his right mind. Alastair was trembling vigorously, barely able to stand on his feet that were shaking like a leaf swaying in the wind.

"Alastair," Thomas stuttered, with no response back. His indignation vanished to immediate panic. "Alastair?" he repeated more stubbornly.

His chest went up and down quickly; His eyes were wide like that of a deer caught in the automobile light. When Thomas tried to take a step toward him, the smaller man stiffened and stood bolt upright. Thomas stopped dead.

"I came at the behest of Ariadne," he said, just for the sake of talking. Alastair hadn't told him to quiet, so he kept going. "And because I was worried about you."

"Leave," Alastair hissed out frantically. Thomas couldn't stop the throbbing burn striking through his body.

Thomas took a few steps back, allowing Alastair his space. He had no temptation to leave as he requested - Thomas simply waited aside, for a chance Alastair would change his mind. He recalled the nights he woke up from a nightmare, dazed and overwhelmed with emotions, and how Alastair always reassured him in the dead of night.

This Alastair seemed lost in his own mind, unable to escape, and it terrified Thomas. Yet, he shoved the dread aside and put on the most relaxing facade he could. He was told to be quite good at it.

"I'm right here, Azizam."

"Everyone leaves. You can do as well."

Somewhere in his mind, the pieces joined together, like a colossal puzzle. Was he afraid Thomas would leave him? That he would give up on him? he told him he could leave in their run-in, because he thought everyone will leave him in the end?

"I don't know. I don't know how to do it." To cease making the wrong decision. To cease pushing people away. To cease hurting people. "man nemidânam."

"Alastair, can you hear me?"

As he found out, Alastair did not hear him. "I don't want to hurt you. I already hurt you so much." Alastair went on, choking on his own words. Thomas was in full panic mode, and he hurried further toward Alastair with barely contained alarm.

I find you worth any pain to come, Thomas thought.

"It's fine," Thomas said. "I am fine. I want you to be fine as well. It's much more important to me than whether you may or may not harm me."

Something split in his face, and he took a deep breath down his throat. His eyes snapped to Thomas. The terror on his face made Thomas's heart sink.

"Alastair?" he asked, but it didn't manage to elicit a response from the other man.

Thomas drew closer to Alastair, not missing the flinch passing the half-Persian's body. Thomas could hear his breath, shallow and trembling. He could painfully see the tremor of his hands. The wide eyes that so clearly tried to hold back tears. He took one step closer, and Alastair took one back.

Thomas imminently came to a halt. Alastair squeezed hard against the wall. He looked like a captive animal on the verge of losing hope, a man pushed to the edge, an injured soul.

Thomas took one step closer. With his enormous figure, it all needed to reach Alastair. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, didn't let go even when Alastair squirmed, trying to shove him aside, fought to set free from Thomas's grip. His hold only tightened, and he used his strength to shove Alastair's head into his chest. He kept him close, kept even when Alastair protested, kept his hold when Alastair Surrendered abruptly, sinking into the soft material of Thomas's clothing, even when sobs began and his chest got wet from the tears of his love.

Thomas pressed his lips to the dark hair, held Alastair steadily while he cried. No words of reassurance passed between them. Truly, Thomas wasn't sure Alastair would have heard him if he tried. He knew the touch was what Alastair needed. Their embrace was clumsy and distorted, but it was enough. Enough to tell Alastair he wasn't alone; Thomas wouldn't have let him go through this alone.

With a soft sigh, Thomas finally let loose of his grip. He started to pull away and was surprised when he felt fists clasping on the fabric of the front of his sleeveshirt.

"Please," Alastair whispered desperately."Please hold me."

Thomas couldn't find it in himself to deny it to Alastair. They slipped to the floor. Alastair buried his face in Thomas's chest once again, shaking silently. Thomas felt his mouth forming words on his chest, although he could not tell which. All the while, his hands embraced the slim, shaking form of Alastair.

A few minutes had passed. Or an hour. Or a couple of days. Thomas didn't feel the time had passed while he tried to console his beloved one. He closed his eyes and concentrated on moving his hand on Alastair's small back, kept him close. The other hand came to caress the space between his ear and jawline, where he was creating circles on the tender skin.

Slowly, The dark-haired's breath became more even.

"Here you are," Thomas let a breath of both exhaustion and relief leave his body. "Can you hear me, Eshgham?"

"Y-Yes."

"Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"No."

Thomas sighed inertly as he held the other gentleman in his warm hands, promising reassurance and no judgment. Alastair, for the matter, clang to him as if he was drowning and Thomas was his only lifeline.

He never liked to fight with Alastair. It rarely happened, but when it did it left a bitter taste in his mouth and a pang at his heart. But he was not going to give up - not on this. He remembered his mother once told him couples fight, sometimes, because they still care about what the other does. It was their first argument with their new agreement. It didn't make him feel any better at the time. All his life he had been surrounded with unconditioned love, never exposed to the arguments and the imperfect details. It made him view love as just sweet and honey, while he learned that there's more with Alastair.

There's the giving. And the receiving. The trust in the other's intentions and the willingness to make them your priority foremost of all. The disagreements make you understand when your boundaries are and open a place for learning and acceptance. The balance you build with time, something he hoped he could shape with the man in front of him.

The trust part, to his belief, was something they still were working on. Alastair had leaned on him, and Thomas wondered it he thought now he calmed down, Thomas would leave him again. He did the last time.

"I'm not leaving," They locked eyes, and for some reason, he felt hope. "Alastair, I'm not leaving."

There are very few things he wanted more than Alastair. Verily, He was what he longed for above everything else. He wanted Alastair and everything he was.

Alastair didn't answer, but he averted his eyes.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Alastair seemed slightly lost, but he nodded and weakly stood on his legs. He followed Thomas while Thomas flung himself up and let Alastair sat on their bed beside him. The comfortable place always made both feel better - The mix of English and Persian and Spanish books on the bookshelves. The notebooks full of poems Thomas kept beside his side of the bed. Alastair's spears collection. The artworks they bought when they visited art galleries.Even the soft yellow light was a source of relief.

"You are mad," proclaimed Alastair in a hoarse voice.

"So are you," Thomas returned. Alastair shook his head, and Thomas's eyebrows rose. "So what then, if not mad?"

"Mostly nauseous," Alastair murmured, managing to startle a breathy chuckle out of Thomas. "But also bloody exhausted."

Thomas fumble after the right words, before deciding he should be candid. "I didn't like being apart from you in those few days. But I stick to what I told you before, Alastair." He saw it happening - the wall of defense Alastair was building up again after the last one had crushed. "Let me bring some fresh air into here."

Thomas tried to ventilate the room well while Alastair sank into the mattress and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "If you call the London foggy, polluted air fresh, then sure."

A bit of relief passed because of Alastair's quip. He didn't lose it. "It seems you and my father share this opinion."

Thomas scanned Alastair, then noticed the cut on his right palm. Absentmindedly, he approached his side.

"Why did you do it?"

It took Alastair a moment to conceive what he was referring to. He hastily covered it with his other hand, but Thomas saw it. "I - didn't mean to."

Thomas watched the cut in awe as if it was imaginary. However, when he grazed the skin, Alastair winced.

Thomas wasn't sure how to counter this. Their fight. What just happened. Alastair didn't either. Or did he wish to pretend none of this happened? That he -both of them- weren't hurt?

This thought wasn't toleratable to Thomas.

And that's why, after he took his stele out of his dresser and was applying an iratze on Alastair's forearm, that he asked, "I want to talk about what happened the day before yesterday."

He could feel Alastair stiffening, his muscles tensing. "I was upset," Alastair said cautiously. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, Tom."

"You shouldn't have," Thomas agreed. He was done with the iratze and put the stele aside. "But that's not why I'm distraught."

Alastair shot him a tumultuous look. Thomas took a deep breath before looking Alastair dead in the eye. "You were upset, but you wouldn't tell me why. You grumble about things relentlessly, but when you're truly shaken you don't share at all. It's not - just this argument. It's not just one thing. Those small moments you hesitate whether to tell me the truth. The times you don't." He inhaled, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He resisted looking away from Alastair's face, didn't let his eyes flutter around the room like they were trying to do. "Love is also built on trust and communication. If we don't have those, what is left?" He didn't need to hear Alastair's reply. "We talk, and we share, yet I cannot understand why you're so grumpy at times. I need you to tell me."

"Can't one just be pissed off at the world?"

"Alastair."

"Many things can upset me," Alastair said. Thomas might have hallucinated it, but his voice was a bit shaky. "Do you want to hear them all?"

"Yes," Thomas answered immediately. His tone was sincere.

Alastair's hand reached to the other side of the bed, a nonverbal request. They still couldn't stop staring at each other. But not playfully, or lovingly, but earnestly.

Alastair, naked of his facade and any snide remarks. Alastair, whom he grew to know and rarely showed up to many else.

I do trust you. I care for you. were the meaning behind Alastair's gaze. All Thomas wanted is to lean on and forget everything. But still - it was not his pride making him relucent. That was much deeper than that.

He lingered there just for a moment too long, enough to make Alastair believe he declined the request, and his hand quirked in pain for a moment. His face became emotionless - and Thomas had feared he misleadingly deceived Alastair that he didn't want them after all. That he didn't want him.

In moments, he climbed on the bed. He coddled Alastair, silently and diligently. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Alastair retorted eventually. He rubbed his eyes and laid back on the bed board. Then after a moment. "Everything."

"I hate it when I see you suffer and I don't know why," Thomas whispered. "I want to help. More than anything. But you push me away and I am left to think it might be because of me, because-"

"No," Alastair said firmly, extending his hands to cup Thoams's. "You have never been anything but good to me. It's just-," he broke off.

Thomas searched his foggy eyes. "I don't blame you," he told him, "If it's hard for you. But trust me enough to tell me what bothers you, thus we could face it together." He collected his hands in his own, lifting them so he could kiss his knuckles. "I know I want to stand by your side whatever the cost." he was certain about that; No whirlwind to come could change it. "Will you let me?"

Instead of an answer, Alastair kissed him.

Thomas knew he was kind, forgiving, trusting. He knew Alastair was slow to trust, slow to reveal his true feelings, hiding behind sharp words to secure himself from being harmed by people close to him. He knew the world broke his heart - so viciously, and that he took the pieces that were left. It was undoubtedly hard. Alastair had changed so much, yet Thomas wanted to understand, to reassure Alastair they were in this together.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair said when they pulled away. "I will try."

Thomas smiled at the endearment term. His heart was throbbing fast. "I was mad," he confessed, "because you refused to tell me what's wrong. You pretended. And I - I don't want facades, my love. I want the truth. I want you."

"I don't want to be weak around the people I love," Alastair whispered, and Thomas understood. To what extent did he fear that if he shows weakness, his friends and family would suffocate him again, shield him from the world as they did when he was younger? How much he feared at slightest of weakness shown, he would be smothered as Thomas had been when he was too small, too fragile?

But Alastair never did that. He supported him in his way, allowed him to be weak without acting as if Thomas was made of glass. "So not weak to everyone," He was astonished he found it in himself to laugh softly. "Each other will be enough. We can be vulnerable with one another."

Alastair stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Okay."

"This is just another way of trust."

So Alastair told him. He told him about the rumors he heard from the London enclave about his family, the looks he had gotten. Of the words of people who were white while Alastair was brown. He didn't mind, much, but it drew attention to his family. And to Thomas. Respectable family and a kind heart seemingly weren't enough to make the rumors - and who spread them - silence. The opposite is correct - the fire burned even brighter, and its flame was like cutting knives. The people who matter didn't care about their agreement, and Alastair long stopped paying attention to rumors. But when it was about Thomas, he said, he had been furious. The stories unfolded, the truth shone through, and the more Alastair talked - not just about rumors, but on the way some of the people treated him, of the Cornwall's townhouse and its residents, the things his soul troubled about were finally out.

Thomas listened, understood, stroked Alastair's cheek when he seemed to start shaking again, but now out of relief instead of concealed agony.

They sunk into a comfortable silence in the end. Up until Alastair inquired, "You were out for so long. Where were you?"

"At the institute," Thomas replied. The concept of coming back to his parents' townhouse, admitting the quarrel, rewinding it all in his head countless times while enduring Sophie and Gideon's worrying looks, was nothing he wished to do. "Or somewhere I could avoid anyone."

"And now?" he asked tentatively. "You come back?"

"I have no intentions to leave this bed even if Ariadne herself will come to pluck me off the sheets." He affirmed.

Alastair's smirk became genuine this time. "Ariadne was here today."

When Thomas said "I know" he got a quizzical look from Alastair so he supplied, "She found my whereabouts and made me go confront you. Not much subtly, may I add."

"Yes. This jinx made me open up the door and refused to leave until I told her what happened."

Thomas silently laughed.

"I..suppose it was rather cathartic," Alastair said. It was evening now, Thomas noted, and none of them found it in themselves to get up and eat supper. They just kept their bodies close, relishing their air of comfort.

"Indeed. This, this was good. Splendidly better than reading the same page over and over again in the Devil's tavern or pretending to care what waistcoat Matthew is taking to the impending party at Anna's flat."

"You thought the place you and your squad go to hide is the best place to hide from them?" Alastair asked.

"It seemed reasonable at the time," Thomas murmured. "Each of us has a kind of hideout, have we not?"

Where was Alastair's safe hideaway? At home, with a book in hand? At museums, drinking in art and beauty? Was it hiking in the streets of London by himself and enjoying the view and the whispers of nature?

"You," Alastair said. Thomas hadn't realized he voiced his question aloud. A tired, small smile played on Alastair's lips, yet his words were soft, plain and simple. Their eyes locked, and he could feel how genuine Alastair was. "You are my hideout."

~~~~~

Dictionary:

man nemidânam - I don't know

Eshgham - my love

Hamsar-am - my equal head, my better half

#alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #the last hours #my fics #thomastair fics #for the matter Thomas does NOT know how to help Alastair in the state he was in. He doesn't know the right way to approach this.#They just found solace in physical affection so he found it fitting there too #I'm sorry #littlx-songbxrd #carstairstessa #Besides I take centuries to write because not only I am extremely busy (and sunk way too deep into the fluff fic and Choi)#but have to wait for inspiration to strike. It works not another way.#so sorry

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sanktnikolais · 4 years ago

Text

Here Without You

A/N: I’m back for a moment to drop this sort of angst piece of god and goddesses au sort of. In which they are a bit like Poseidon and Athena but not really, I just needed the rivalry bc I’m trash <3 (it doesn’t make sense I know)

Big thanks to @wafflesandkruge for giving me the idea. And for also going through and editing this long mess of words KJHASLFDJ ;-;

Basically light/vague plot, only monologues and longing.

Summary: Cursed to live on earth as humans, Zoya has been finding Nikolai in every life he gets reincarnated. But every time they meet, it is always the same: he doesn't know her. He has no memory of her or anything about their past immortal life. And in every lifetime, she is slowly losing hope. For how long could she hold onto the thought of him remembering her again? Is her love enough?

Word count: 9629

How long does it take to fall out of love with someone who can't remember you?

If there was anything that Zoya learned after being stuck in a human body for so long was that nothing was ever permanent. All of it, whether it was a physical thing or an intangible emotion, disappeared in time. Such a harsh truth, she knew, but it was the truth.

For a long time, she had waited for it to disappear, or just fade if only for a bit.

But for over a millennium, her love for him remained.

Maybe that was what had driven her to stay away instead of finding him this time. Because no matter how many times they met, or how many times their paths crossed, or how many lifetimes passed, the result would always be the same.

He would never remember her again.

It was only reasonable for her to stop hoping for the impossible to happen.

---

Athens had been slightly cold that time of the year, even with the sun high up, which was a change since she last visited.

Zoya looked around. There were quite a number of tourists visiting today, bustling around the site and taking photos of the scenery. She almost chuckled at the silliness of it. If today had been some other time before, the sight would've been better when the temple was still intact. But looking up at it now, in its ruined state, only brought haunting memories of their last stand against their common enemy before everything fell apart around them.

Minnie? His voice echoed in her mind, along with the image of the worry and terror in his eyes as he knelt on the floor, trying to reach for her. What's wrong?

She shook her head, harshly shoving the memory away. But the sight of him vanishing after was already branded into her mind as if to remind her of her failure.

The coldness of the small piece of metal in her hand was enough to bring her back, and Zoya pressed it harder against her palm until it hurt. Better this pain than the one in the past.

With a shaky breath, she made her way through the rubble of what once had been a divine place made by the people for the god of the seas. She remembered how much he appreciated the place, how much he took care of it during the old days they were still all in peace.

He grinned, the one that reached his eyes and made them bright. His arms were spread wide. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he said, gesturing to his newly built temple.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. “Mine is definitely better,” she countered with a sneer. “And besides, yours wouldn’t even be there if I hadn’t allowed it.”

“Guess I owe you my reputation, then?”

“Obviously, so stop being a show off.”

Then he winked, and she didn’t like the way it made her heart skip a beat. “Only for you, dear.”

The memory faded.

It was then she realized that he never got to see what she had done to his temple. If he saw it now, what would he feel?

Nothing, her cruel mind said. He doesn't remember anymore.

"Am I really waiting for nothing?" she said bitterly, not minding the weird stares she got from a nearby group.

Zoya reached the entrance of the front hall. It faced the seas, a view which he had never grown tired of. And seeing it from here, she figured that she could never really blame him.

The cliff from where the temple was built gave a wide view of the sea, stretching as far as it could until the other end that could be seen was only the horizon. Its glow of a mix of green and blue blended well with the afternoon sky, and it gave her a sense of serenity. Even if for a bit.

The seas can help us find peace, dear, his voice echoed in her mind again, unwanted and welcome at the same time. I'm sure you would appreciate it more in time.

Don’t call me dear, she had said, but it didn’t have the poison and sharpness from when they were still rivals.

Zoya felt a sad smile twitch on her lips. She did appreciate it, loved it even. An eternity with him before surely contributed to the love she had for the seas now.

But an eternity without him only made looking at them feel bittersweet. It was as if she could see him nearby, but could never reach for him nor be with him.

It was never fair.

She shook the melancholic thoughts away. She hadn't come here to lament over the things that could never be again.

Zoya opened her palm to eye the small object. It was a trident keychain she had bought from one of the souvenir stores near the site's entrance, its gold color immediately catching her eye as she had passed by.

It had become a tradition for her to leave various things by his temple whenever she visited. Whether it was of the strangest things like a water lily from a nearby pond or something like this, she always left things that reminded her of him.

It was only fair to remember him even if he didn't remember her.

"An offering to the most infuriating deity I knew," Zoya whispered, her voice breaking slightly despite the softness of her tone. Her eyes suddenly burned. She blinked rapidly, feeling a tear fall on her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away. Why now? She laughed bitterly. "I am still crying over you even after a millennium while you live and pass by without any memory of me."

She looked down to her right, where a boulder was perched on a pillar by the entrance, gently placing the trident on the surface. If only it was as easy to leave your feelings behind just as she left things in his temple.

"Sad and fascinating, isn't it?"

Zoya jolted in surprise, her hand knocking over the small trident before she could let it go completely. That voice—

But it couldn't be. It shouldn't be.

The voice continued on. "To have such a vast structure built only for it to be destroyed later," it said, "it really is tragic."

It was coming from behind her. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart was beating erratically in her chest.

It could be anyone else, her mind berated. Stop doing this to yourself.

But hearing his voice lifetime after lifetime, she would know it from anywhere.

It was him.

Zoya released a shuddering breath, finally turning around to face him. She had seen him be reincarnated far too many times for the past two thousand years, had steeled herself from trying to run to him every time they met again. She had become better at making herself not care as the years passed.

What she could never get used to was the excruciating pain in her chest whenever she saw the person she had been longing to remember her appear in her path once more.

He still looked the same in every life, with his blond hair and hazel eyes, and that all-too-bright grin that she adored for thousands of years]. If she were to take a glance at him, it was as if nothing had changed.

But the lack of recognition and warmth in his eyes told a different story.

Were the Fates just that cruel to make their paths cross again and yet never last?

Her eyes stung again.

"I'm—" A look of worry bloomed on his face, and he held his hands up in apology. He winced. "I'm so sorry, I thought you could use some small talk. You look a bit sad earlier."

Zoya wanted to laugh. He still talked too much in every timeline he got reborn in. "It's—it's fine." She waved a dismissive hand, wiping at her eyes for a moment. "Just had something in my eyes."

If he wanted to say he wasn't convinced, he didn't bother to. He grinned and looked back up to the temple instead. "I'm really curious about this, though," he said as he approached the pillar to her left.

She drew in a sharp breath, wanting to step away and put as much distance as possible between them. But she stood her ground. She wasn't going to shy away from only that reason.

He touched the surface of the pillar and then pounded a fist on it twice. "The material looks sturdy enough to withstand a lot of calamities. But the damage looks far more than just that," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. Then he turned to her, hazel eyes curious. She found herself staring right back at them. "What do you think happened here?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "If you're curious about it, why didn't you get one of the tour guides for your questions?"

Almost immediately, he grimaced, scratching the spot behind his ear. "I left my wallet back in the hotel I was at," he said, voice lowering with every word. "I only have enough spare cash for a bus ride back."

Zoya looked at him incredulously, and he obviously shrunk back slightly, the embarrassment still evident on his face. Still the idiot he is.

He sighed. "Well, at least I'd still be able to go back in a bus. I mean imagine walking back to your hotel in this kind of weather," he said, gesturing at the sky. "The sun god isn't merciful today."

She stared at him for another moment, and then she did one thing she hadn't done for a while.

She laughed. A genuine, loud one that surprised him, and even herself. Another moment passed, and then he was softly laughing along with her as well. If there were some things that remained unchanged, it was his blabbering mouth and idiocy in every life. It felt as if he was really here with her.

"Trust me, the sun god is more merciful than you think," Zoya said. If only Tolya can hear you now. "Give him a bit more credit."

"If he calms the blaze down for even a bit, then maybe." He shook his head with a chuckle. Then he patted the pillar. "I hope the god of the seas doesn't mind hearing me badmouthing his fellow deity."

Whatever happiness she felt was short-lived and instantly faded at that, her heart clenching. She forced a smile on her face. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"You sound like you know a lot about the gods."

I know a lot more. "I know my mythology."

He raised a brow, an amused grin playing on his lips. "So does the mythology expert have a name?"

Zoya froze, and her thoughts stopped altogether. She had gone through this for as long as she could remember, and yet she still found herself stuttering every time.

"Minerva," she said before she could even think of it. Her mind panicked. It was her godly name. They had chosen their current names when they first answered to the humans a long time ago, and when they were damned to the mortal world, it had been the names they’d lived by ever since.

All the times she had met him, she gave a different one, while he said the same over and over. She didn't know why she told him her real name all of a sudden.

"A lovely name," he said, extending a hand out. "Nikolai."

She only hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. His skin was warm against hers, and she felt their connection throughout eons in that one touch. His eyebrows knitted together the moment their hands clasped together, but it was gone as soon as she blinked. She didn't know if she had just imagined it.

"Nice to meet you," she said. The words already felt hollow after repeating it for over a millennium.

Nikolai grinned. "Likewise." He let go of her hand before gazing up to the temple again. "So, I'm guessing it was destroyed from within. An explosion, perhaps? A divine explosion, if I may add. It's only plausible to think of that reason if we were to consider the mythology." He shrugged, looking totally satisfied with himself. "Correct me if I'm wrong, though, o' wise one."

She didn't answer for a while. The question he asked was bringing back far too many buried memories of the dark era. Genya's unwanted deception. Harshaw's downfall. Alina’s sacrifice.

Nikolai’s doom.

It came back rushing to Zoya, and it took all she could to not break down. She clenched her hands to fists, willing the memories away. It wasn't the time to let them take over. Not that there ever was a right time.

"Minerva?"

She broke out of her thoughts, turning back to Nikolai warily. There was a worried crease in his eyebrows as he looked at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

"Yes, of course. I'm just trying to remember something," she replied.

"Ah, is the wise one starting to forget her mythology?"

Zoya tried to ignore the way the nickname prick at her heart. It was hitting too close to home. "I tend to forget things too, you dolt. Be glad I'm willing to answer your questions instead of leaving you hanging with your curiosity."

To both her surprise and expectation, Nikolai only laughed. He had never minded her sharp tongue and rough edges. Not even once. "Then do scold me for my wrong assumptions," he said.

She huffed, but looked back up to the monument. "No need to ask for the worst," she said. "But you're actually quite right about that. It was destroyed from within, and not by a natural calamity."

"I knew it," he said triumphantly, his grin lightning up his face. "Though I'm quite surprised the sea god was allowed to be given a shrine in Athens. If my memory is right, didn't the goddess of Wisdom win that war?" He frowned. "I'm sensing there’s more than what was said in the books."

More than you'll remember from all your past lives, my love. Zoya recovered with a scoff. "The modern books are shit. Anything printed in them barely holds the truth." She wrinkled her nose. "I've been in far too many old libraries to know."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate on the real history, then?" he said, eyes holding only genuine curiosity and no mocking. "I'm all ears."

"You're not going to let this go easily, aren't you?"

"Not after you intrigued me with your confidence about its truth." He paused, his expression suddenly turning somber as he looked around the ruins of the old temple. "It's strange but there's something about this place that draws me in, and I just want to know what it is."

Zoya felt her chest clench as she looked at him sideways. This happened in every life; Nikolai would be reminded or be familiar with everything, but he never remembered. And she was always left to deal with the pain alone.

With a quiet sigh, she braced herself from the upcoming pain of trying to reminisce a memory of them together, even more so when it was the start of their eternity together. An eternity that was ended in a blink of an eye.

But she figured that she would still indulge him. Even if it was the last time.

"They were rivals," she started. "Archenemies if you want to call it that, always had each other by their throats. It started when the sea god tried to ransack the temple of the wisdom goddess with a great flood."

She'd never forget the rage she felt at that time when she caught him in act, and how that rage deepened when he reasoned out that it was the sky god who had forced him to do it. His reason turned out to be true, but since the sky god was untouchable, she retaliated by stealing and burying the sea god's trident way underground for at least a decade.

It had rained non-stop in Olympus that time, but the defeated look on his face as he lived without his prized weapon was worth it.

"The sea god is a huge idiot, you see, and the wisdom goddess dislikes that kind of person." Zoya wanted to laugh in the way she was narrating their history, but the thought of him not remembering any of it was disheartening. "But that's just the way he was."

Nikolai chuckled. "Am I sensing bias?" he said, shaking his head. "Sounds like they had a pretty silly rivalry."

A smile twitched on her lips. "That's a nice way to put it," she replied. "One petty thing led to another, until they were both interested in becoming the patron of this city that the rivalry between them worsened. The sea god even went as far as challenging the wisdom goddess to a duel the night before they set to present themselves to the king of Athens, saying that she only got interested because he was interested.

"It was actually half-true, and also because the wisdom goddess did not want to make things easier for him as he did with her for centuries."

"Please tell me they didn't go on with the duel," Nikolai said.

"Joke's on you. They did."

"Damnit." Then he laughed. "Who came out the victor?"

Zoya couldn't help but smile triumphantly. "The wisdom goddess, of course," she said. "She put him in his place that night and told him to forfeit his plans being the patron of the city."

"I'm sure he didn't come to present himself to the king the following day, then?"

"Another joke on you. You're underestimating the stubbornness of the sea god." She shook her head in disbelief, and it made Nikolai laugh a bit more. She raised an eyebrow to his way. He should really stop laughing at himself. "If there was something else constant in him other than his idiocy, it's his optimism and stubbornness. He still showed up the next day despite having lost the duel."

Nikolai chuckled. "Sounds a lot like me," he said. Zoya's breath hitched, but she ignored the tiny spark of hope starting to ignite again. Then with a shrug, he added, "Well, you know what they say. No guts, no glory."

"The wisdom goddess literally almost gutted him but he still persevered, and she had to commend that, at least. She didn't bother wasting her time berating him when he showed up." She kicked away a rock near her foot. It toppled over the huge crack dividing the ground, a fissure she had created after seeing him crumble to nothing in front of her. She forced her eyes away. "Even now, I still don't know why she didn't."

"Out of respect, maybe?" he offered with a shrug, and Zoya considered it for a moment. Perhaps it was. "What happened after?"

"They were asked to offer a gift to the people that will prove useful for a long time. Of course, being as confident as he is, the sea god volunteered to go first. He struck the earth with his trident and a fountain of water came forth. But what he didn't know was that it could only produce saltwater. It was pretty much useless for the population.

"Then it was the wisdom goddess' turn. From there, she struck her spear on the ground and planted a branch that grew an olive tree. The king was more impressed with the wisdom goddess' gift, so he chose her to lay claim on this city."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so that's what happened." He nodded in understanding. Then he frowned and glanced up at the temple, pointing a finger up to it. "Wait, that still doesn't explain how the sea god got his own temple in the city where his very own rival was the patron? I'm quite sure the sea god didn't accept his loss that easily."

"That's where you're wrong." Zoya followed his look up. "He peacefully conceded," she said. And it was the very first time you regarded and smiled at me without a hint of malice. "So she obliged his supporters' wish to build him a shrine near the sea. Thus the temple in this location."

The smile that appeared on his lips was almost affectionate and soft, and she found herself smiling a bit sadly. "I guess despite the rivalry, they could still be forgiving with each other," Nikolai said. Then he turned to her. "What happened to them after that?"

"They—" Fell in love and had an eternity in front of them, she wanted to say but decided against it. She had told him enough truth. "—made a truce and agreed not to come after each other again. No other wars between them after."

"Just like that?"

We've had a lot more than just that. He didn’t need to know how he became much different to her after that, his treatment around her becoming much better despite her initial hostility to his changed attitude towards her, or how he made his way to her heart without her even realizing that she'd let her walls down for him.

Nothing would make a difference.

"More or less, yeah," she replied after a moment.

Nikolai still didn't look convinced when he turned back to her. "Not even on friendly terms?"

Zoya only shrugged. "There were no further things said in the old stories," she said. She didn't know why she was lying to him when he didn't even remember anything. "So we're left to our own assumptions on what possibly happened in the following years."

A look of disappointment bloomed on his face. "I refuse to believe nothing happened else after that," he said firmly. "It's too….open. There must be something more."

"It's quite disappointing, but it is reality. Sometimes that's just the way it is."

"Fair. I believe there's something more, but I guess I'll have to leave it open as well." He sighed, and then smiled ruefully. "The worst part of every story is having no ending."

Zoya only smiled sadly as she turned away from the temple and faced the sea. Beside her, she felt Nikolai shift and do the same. The quiet stretched on, and nothing but the occasional sound of wind and the other tourists' voices could be heard.

It was at times like these that she appreciated the calmness that the view of the sea brought to her, and she was left to remember that what he told her about the seas was true.

Another wave of pain and longing washed over her, the stinging in her eyes returning. He was so, so close and yet she could never reach out to him and hold him close again. But she would be content with having him near even without any memory of her rather than losing him forever.

"How about you?" His voice came after a long while, soft and soothing as the afternoon breeze. "Do you believe that there was nothing more for them than just their rivalry?"

Zoya didn't answer right away. It would be so easy to tell him the truth, to say that the two most opposite deities had overcome their differences and fallen in love against all odds.

But her exhausted heart was too afraid to open up with the truth when she knew that nothing would change if she told him.

"To be honest," she said, mustering up all her courage to keep her tone flat, "I don't know. Maybe there really wasn't."

Nikolai nodded in understanding. "I suppose that's possible too," he said. "Guess we're of opposite minds, yeah?"

"We've always been," she whispered, and she was almost thankful for the shrill sound of his ringtone to cover up for her voice.

He immediately answered it, his becoming relieved. There were a few exchanges of words before he was ending the call. "My rental car is finally starting up again so I'll be able to head back to the hotel. I'm afraid I'll have to cut off our tour short," he said with obvious dismay. "Thank you very much for the knowledge and wisdom you have bestowed me today."

Zoya was already starting to bid him goodbye, but her mind had begun pondering over his words and the ones from earlier. "I thought you said you were taking a bus back?"

"Oh. I, uh," Nikolai stuttered, scratching the spot behind his ear with a nervous chuckle. "I kind of made that up." Then he quickly added, "I'm so sorry about that but you looked like you needed a small talk or something, and it was the first excuse that came to my mind." He tried to smile, but it was pained enough to pass it off as a grimace instead. "Though it’s probably a good thing I hadn't hired a tour guide as I learned a lot more from you, I apologize for making an excuse up."

"You don't have to explain yourself, I did actually quite enjoy sharing too," she said, offering him a lopsided smile in return. "And also, thank you for being kind."

He grinned at that, his face lighting up. "Likewise." He tipped his head in a polite bow before extending a hand. "It is nice meeting you, Minerva."

Zoya tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest in the way he said her name. She put on a small smile. "Likewise, Nikolai."

He gave another smile before letting go of her hand and turning to leave. Only to stop after a few steps and face her again. Then he was pulling something out of his pocket.

"Well, a token of appreciation for your expertise on mythology," he said, handing her a small keychain. "And also for enduring my curious and talkative self."

She opened her hand, and he placed the object to her palm. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized it.

It was the miniature version of her shield.

"The wisdom goddess' shield," Nikolai said as he pulled his hand back. He offered her a soft smile. "It's only fitting for you to have it because you share the same level of wisdom as her." Then he gave another polite bow. "Farewell, o' wise one. Though I do hope to see you again some time."

With a final grin, he finally turned and left.

Zoya stared at his retreating form until he disappeared among the crowd of tourists, feeling a lot heavier on her shoulders now that he had left. The keychain was still warm in her hand as she walked towards the cliff's edge, and away from the people that might possibly see her.

The weight of it all came crashing down at her. It felt surreal, a fever dream she couldn't get out of, and she was left reeling from the effect of what had just occurred.

Why today? Why here?

It was one thing to see him again. But in this place out of all the ones he could have met her? It was cruelty, a mocking from the Fates to show her that she was never free of her torment even when she already remembered, and he hadn't.

She will never be free of it.

The burning in her eyes felt too much again. But this time, Zoya didn't do anything to stop the tears from falling.

---

What she hadn't expected was seeing him again later that night.

It wasn't new for her to stay late at the site, even after its closing time. If you were old friends with the manager of the place, you got quite a bit of special treatment.

You can stay for as long as you need to. The text message from Genya had been displayed on her screen for quite a while now. Just don't make yourself too sad.

Zoya huffed lightly. If that were easy to do, she would have done it a thousand years ago. But a lot of things were easier said than done.

The alcove she had been staying at was just several feet below the cliff's edge, particularly made for lounging a long time ago. But after years of neglect, what was once a finely made spot was now nothing more than a small opening carved from a trident's strike. The boulder that used to be big enough to hold two people had now crumbled to smaller rocks, and she was left to sit on the cold ground instead.

Nikolai had built the spot when they wanted to have a quiet time together without the prying eyes of mortals or any of their fellow deities nearby. She remembered nights when he would point out the constellations for her, and despite having all the knowledge about it, she let him talk and make up stories for each of them. Other times it would be still, neither of them talking and hands just clasped together, watching the waves on the seas surge and move to his bidding.

The memories hit her painfully. She longed to have those nights with him again, or even to just be with him, without having to worry about him slipping away from her.

But that seemed impossible now.

Her watch suddenly beeped, signaling that it was already one in the morning. But somehow, the sound was muffled amidst the memories in her head. She needed the calm, the quiet. A place where she could be in peace. And she knew just where that was.

Zoya stood up and dusted her pants off before making her way back up the cliff again. Slipping off her cardigan and shoes, she left them along with her phone and wallet by the row of rocks that served as the barrier for the edge. She made her way to the lower part of the ravine afterwards, where the drop was directly to the water on this vantage point.

If Genya were here, she would surely reprimand her from doing such a dangerous thing in the middle of the night. But Zoya usually did night dives during the times she visited here, as the seas brought the serenity she used to feel around him, and she was just desperate to have it again. And it wasn’t as if she could die.

She closed her eyes and turned to the night sky, breathing in deeply as the wind picked up around her. Then, with a contented sigh, she broke into a run and jumped off the ledge.

The rush of air felt familiar in her ears as she plummeted to the sea, and a moment later, she was submerged under the surface. Underwater, it was quiet, the tranquility making it easier for the memories to come rushing to her mind. The coldness should have bitten at her skin the moment she sunk, but she didn’t feel anything. She closed her eyes.

Her mind chose to bring her back to one night on the beach, when he stopped the tides and held her close as they danced slowly under the stars. It was the very first time he had bared his real self to her, and the first time she had seen him past the confidence and the cruel persona he wore as one of the highest among the gods.

She hadn't known how to react that time, and she found herself at loss for words. It was the moment she doubted herself. She was the goddess of wisdom who liked definitive odds and probabilities. She approached everything with caution and vigilance. And above all else, she was supposed to treat him as a rival. An enemy. An opponent of the other side.

But Zoya must have miscalculated, because she ended up going against everything she’d ever believed when she fell in love with him.

Her eyes stung, and her chest clenched. It wasn't from the lack of air.

Please, I'd do anything, she pleaded desperately to any other divine being that could hear her. Make him remember. Make him remember me.

Something grabbed at her wrist, and her eyes shot open. A figure was trying to haul her up to the surface. She struggled for a moment, but whoever was pulling her had a strength of the currents and waves of the seas during a storm.

After a moment, they finally resurfaced. Zoya was gasping for air as they broke out of the water, immediately getting hold of the person's collar and turning them violently to her.

Whatever harsh things she was about to say were forgotten when the dim lights from above the cliff caught the face of the figure.

"Minerva, are you alright?" Nikolai asked, concern evident in his voice. What the hell was he doing here? His eyes searched her face. "Why did—no, never mind that. Let's get you out of the water first."

She was still too shocked to move or answer, so she let him drag her to the sands on the far left side of the cliff. He did most of the swimming, as her body still refused to cooperate with her. It must have been a struggle for him, but he didn't show it. His movements were precise and powerful as if he had been doing it all his life. Though considering his real identity as the god of the seas, this was nothing to him.

They hit the sands after a short while, and it was then a bit of Zoya’s strength returned. She immediately pushed Nikolai away.

"Let go of me," she hissed, voice hoarse from being under the water for too long.

He stumbled, clearly not expecting the act, and he looked at her with obvious hurt in his eyes.

If it was some other time, she would have felt bad and tried to apologize. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be hurt. But she was exhausted and miserable and she didn't want to deal with anything at all. She let her emotions take over.

"How did you find me?" She gritted her teeth as she wobbled on her feet. "You aren't supposed to be here."

A look of disbelief appeared on his face. "A thank you would be nice," he said. "I just saved your life."

"Who said I needed saving?" she snapped. "Didn't you consider for a second that maybe I knew what I was doing?" She started towards the path leading back up to the temple, calling out to her shoulder, "You should mind your business."

"So you preferred to drown down there alone?"

I can't die, Zoya wanted to say, and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying it. She chose to ignore him instead and continue up the upward path. The cold was starting to seep to her skin, making her shiver slightly.

She could hear his rushed footsteps behind her as he followed. "Minerva," he called out. "Look, I'm sorry."

Zoya ignored him. They were almost at the top of the cliff again.

"I didn't mean to upset you—please, Minnie."

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening. Her thoughts stopped all together. Could it be?

Slowly, she turned to face him, her heart in her throat. "What did you just call me?"

Nikolai seemed to realize what he had said, and he looked mortified. "I—I'm sorry, it just came to my mind."

Zoya wanted to laugh bitterly at herself. Of course, he still didn't remember. It was always only reminders of their former lives that came to him just to keep her hopes up. But it was all the same after.

"Leave before I report you for trespassing," she said curtly and continued up the path. Just stay away, she pleaded in her mind desperately, even though her heart wished for the opposite. But she couldn't take any more pain right now. Please.

Thankfully, she didn't hear him behind her after that, and she made her way back to where she left her things. But when she finally got there, the exhaustion caught up with her and she stumbled to the row of rocks. Her body was already shivering when she sat down, and she put a hand to her face.

Realization dawned at Zoya all of a sudden. Her harsh treatment of him wasn't necessary, and there was no one else to blame but herself for letting her emotions take over. And even if she wanted to apologize, she had already scared him off.

Something warm was draped around her shoulders, and the smell of the sea wafted to her nose. A choked sob made its way out of her mouth. Why hadn't he left yet? She had regarded him badly when his intention was solely to save her from drowning. She didn't deserve his kindness.

"I told you to leave," she said, moving her hand away from her face. But she didn't turn to him. "I warned you that I would report you, didn't I?"

Nikolai laughed lightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him settle over one of the rocks in the row near her, though he still kept a considerable distance between them.

"If you wanted to report me," he said, "then you would have gone straight to security the moment you arrived up here."

Zoya huffed, but didn't say anything more. She hated that he was right about her. He could always see right through her, and it was the one thing that didn't change in him.

His voice came after a moment. "Did you really intend to stay underwater for that long?"

She didn’t answer right away, because she didn't know how. She hadn't even realized that she had been underwater for too long. "How did you get here, anyway? And why are you here?" she asked instead, effectively deflecting the subject.

Nikolai winced. It was obvious that he didn't have a clear answer to her question either. "I have my ways. And I can assure you my reason isn't for cruel purposes."

"Guess I won't report you, then," she said, and Nikolai smiled at that.

"I owe you my life, o' wise one," he said.

I couldn't even save you on time, Zoya thought bitterly.

A long silence came after, with the both of them facing the well-lit temple that glowed against the night sky. The wind picked up, and she shrugged the jacket tighter around her. She looked at Nikolai sideways, remembering that he had also been soaked to the bone when he jumped in after her. But there weren't any traces of him being cold, so she turned her attention back to the temple.

"I couldn't sleep," he said after a while. He took a small piece of gravel from the ground and tossed it over the cliff's edge. "It might be strange to hear this reason, but the story you told me this afternoon kept me up, and it drew me back here. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight. It wasn't as if coming back here would answer the questions in my head." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I was never a fan of open-ended stories."

"They fell in love," Zoya said simply, averting her gaze from him and looking back up at the temple. She could practically feel his shocked expression directed her way. She figured that she owed him the whole truth at least, after treating him badly just earlier.

And for the last time she would be able to talk to him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me."

Nikolai scoffed. "If this is some lie just to sate my thoughts, then I would prefer the cruel truth to hit me squarely in the face."

"I'm not lying. I know it seems quite impossible if you look back at their history," she said. "But the ones that happened after were more important. The oldest scriptures said so. They fell in love and had an eternity ahead of them." And we had. We just didn't know it would end in the cruelest way, and you would be taken away from me. "It wasn't well-known to the public as the modern books stated that they stayed rivals throughout the rest of their immortal lives."

"How could two gods who literally fought over this city fall in love?"

"I don't know." And it was the truth. He really was her biggest uncertainty and miscalculation. But it was the one thing she didn't regret happening. A rueful smile appeared on her lips. "And yet they did. Against all odds."

Nikolai laughed lightly. "I can't believe it," he said, his tone bordering breathless and disbelieving. "Do you think they're still in love?"

The question felt like knives being stabbed into her heart. I've loved you for an eternity, she thought as she looked at him, to the face that never left her mind for a millennium. Does your love for me still exist, even if it lays forgotten in the deepest depths of your heart?

Her eyes burned, and she looked away. "I hope," she said truthfully. "It would have been extraordinary."

"I would have to believe they still do," he said. "I mean, it's kind of amazing, isn't it? To love the same person for thousands of years."

Zoya felt another crack on her mask. "It is," she whispered. "A lot have tried gaining her attention, but no one can ever compare to him. She doesn't see anyone else."

Nikolai sighed contentedly. "They're lucky," he said. "To have a love like that, I mean. Those kinds are rare."

"Have you ever been in love?" she suddenly asked. She hadn't meant to pry, but she wanted to know if he found someone else during his time. She blinked, realizing how intrusive the question was. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Ah, is the wise one a curious cat now?" He laughed when she gave him a glare. He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm joking." He turned back to the temple with a faraway look in his eyes. "But to answer your question, I don't think I have. At least not in the way the sea god and the wisdom goddess were."

Zoya didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad at that. So she only nodded in understanding.

"I like to think that maybe I did, even just once. There had been a few people in the past." Nikolai smiled sadly. "But there's always something missing, you know? I could never tell what or why I am feeling that way. There's just this…hollowness I can't explain." He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. "Somehow coming to this place relieved me of some of the emptiness. I guess I should come back here more often."

A tear fell from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away before he could see it. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, that tiny spark of hope that she thought was dimming had ignited once more.

This was exactly why she didn't want to meet him again. They would cross paths, and he would be reminded of something in their past life that made her heart believe that things could be what they once were. But they couldn’t. They never would.

Destined to meet, but never to last.

So she didn't let herself ponder over it. This had already happened so many times, and yet she always got hurt for expecting too much in the end.

"How about you?" he asked, voice gentle. "Have you ever been in love?"

I have. And I still am. "Once."

A beat. "How was it?"

A curse and a blessing at the same time. She blinked her tears away and replied, "I still think about him everyday."

Nikolai hummed. "Lucky guy."

"He really is."

"Can I ask what happened to him?"

Zoya let out a shaky breath. "He forgot about me."

"I would remember you," he said.

Then why didn't you? She covered up with a bitter laugh instead. "Easier said than done."

He didn't say anything else after that, and another wave of silence filled the air around them. Zoya appreciated the quiet, reminding her of the moments of peace in the past, and she felt a sad smile on her lips along the ache in her heart.

She would remember this, even if it's painful for her. She didn’t know when she’d see him again.

If she would see him again.

Suddenly, a beam of light flashed to her face, and she raised a hand up to cover her eyes. "Miss Nazyalensky?" a voice asked. She immediately recognized it as Isaak's, Genya's head of security. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm alright," she said, and the light disappeared.

The young guard's eyes shifted from her to someone past her shoulder. If he noticed their still-drenched state of dress, he didn't say anything. His eyes narrowed. "Who—"

"Don't worry, he's a friend," she said, glancing at him sideways. "He's just about to leave."

A look of disappointment flashed on his face, and Zoya silently apologized to him in her mind. It was the only way to make him go. Isaak was looking at him expectantly.

"Yes," Nikolai said, "I was just leaving."

She turned back to Isaak. "Be a dear and show him the way out, it's already dark."

Isaak only nodded before turning to Nikolai. "This way, sir."

Nikolai sighed and stood up without further complaints, walking towards the young guard. But not before he looked back at her for the last time. He smiled softly. "It was actually good seeing you again," he said, and Zoya felt her heart break a little more with those words that held much more meaning to her. "Good night."

With that, he turned away to follow Isaak back to the entrance. Her feet were already moving before she even realized it.

"Wait," she said, and Nikolai stopped in his tracks. She made her way towards the temple's entrance, going over to the boulder by the pillar where she’d left the small keychain earlier. She found it on the floor, almost covered with rubble. But thankfully it was still there. She picked it up and turned back to him.

His eyes were expectant and curious when Zoya stopped in front of him, and she let her gaze linger to memorize his features to carry with her, as if she hadn't had all of him engraved in her heart and mind for thousands of years.

"Here." She handed the trident keychain to him. He took it reluctantly, a deep crease in his eyebrows evident as he stared at the object in his hand. "I left it this afternoon as an offering to him. But you might as well have it."

Nikolai blinked, a grin appearing on his lips that brightened his face. "I hope the god of the seas doesn't mind."

"Don't worry, I'm sure he won't." It's technically yours, anyway. "And it’ll be something to remember me by."

"Even if you don't give me anything, you're not that easy to forget, Minerva," he said, and then he tipped his head forward in a polite bow. "Thank you."

The look in his eyes was warm, and Zoya felt as if she was really looking at him. She desperately wanted to reach out to him and hold him close to her again. But she held back. "You're welcome," she said, stepping back before she did something she would regret later. She would not make this harder for herself.

With a final grin, Nikolai finally turned and followed Isaak.

And as she let him walk away from her for the umpteenth time in her life, she was left only with longing and the same pain she had been carrying for as long as she can remember.

I love you, she thought, hoping the winds would be kind enough to carry the words she had been wanting to tell him. This would be the last time.

***

The memory of that night came back to her as Zoya stood by the entrance of his temple again more than a year later. She didn’t expect herself to be back here; she had vowed that she would stop hoping for the impossible. But it was never that easy to let go of something you’d been holding onto for a long time.

She had spent the better part of the year trying to convince herself that she could do it, that she could let him go. Sometimes she thought she did, as her thoughts about him didn't bring that much pain to her than before. But more times than not, she would still find herself crying at night, wanting nothing else than to have him with her again, asking any other deities to hear her plea and end their torment.

And yet it remained unanswered just like it had always been.

A strong breeze blew past the site, and Zoya shrugged the jacket tighter around her. It was almost the same as last year, albeit a bit colder, causing the temple to have less visitors than usual. The sun was starting to set in the west when she approached the cliff's edge, giving the sea an orange glow.

She smiled ruefully, suddenly realizing the depth of her decision. This view was going to be one of the sights she would have to give up if she ever stopped visiting here. And it was something she wasn't letting go. As much as she wanted to forget, his seas had been a constant part of her immortal life, providing her with peace that often slipped away from her, and it was the closest thing to him that she could be with.

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks, and Zoya wanted to laugh. She had been a fool to think that she could ever forget any of this, that she could forget him.

Because even after all her attempts to do so, he would always be the one on the other end of the red string tied around her wrist.

"It's not fair, you know? I'm still crying over you, and I'm so, so tired," she said to the sea, her voice quivering as she did. The stinging in her eyes came quickly this time, and she reached a hand up to wipe it away. A broken sob came out from her lips when she whispered, "It's not fair, Nikolai."

She put a hand to her face as she continued to cry. There were times that her grief would overwhelm her to the point that she wouldn't have minded whether she was in public or not, and the pain in her chest was enough to break her.

This was one of those times and she had no control over it.

Zoya didn’t know how long she stayed there, crying her sorrows to the seas that could only do so much to comfort her, that she didn’t even notice the presence behind her until it spoke.

"When I first saw you here a year ago, you were just close to crying."

Everything seemed to stop around her. Her thoughts halted and she brought her hand down from her face.

No, it's not real.

But she knew it was true.

Zoya turned to the direction of his voice, and there he was, basked in the glow of the sunset that made his eyes gleam much brighter than what she used to have engraved in her head.

Nikolai smiled softly. "It's been a while, Minerva."

She didn’t know why her mind suddenly started making up excuses, anything she could say to elude him before the pain became too much for her to bear.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" It might have been the stupidest excuse she could think of, but it was all she had. A look of hurt flashed on his face. Walk away, Zoya. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."

She briskly walked past him, each step away from him feeling like daggers being driven to her chest.

Walk away, Zoya willed herself.

She could do it. She could walk away so she wouldn't have to suffer. She could do this, and do it again in the next life.

She could stay away from him.

But as she went further away from Nikolai, her mind narrowed to one thought. I can't do it.

It was then his voice came, gentle as the waves from the shore. "Are you really going to walk away this time, Zoya?"

This made her stop abruptly on her tracks, her heart in her throat. A surge of wild hope ignited in her chest again.

No, he could've asked for it from the management, she thought. Isaak could have told him.

She had been waiting for a thousand years to hear it again, to hear the warmth in his voice whenever he said her name. But why wasn't she believing it? Why wasn't she turning to him?

Why only now?

Against her better judgment, Zoya finally faced him. Her vision blurred with another wave of unwanted tears. If this was some cruel trick to play on her—

Nikolai must have noticed her look, because he gave her a reassuring smile. "The seas can help us find peace," he said as he approached her. Zoya could only look at him, her heart still not wanting to believe. But he continued, "And I would gladly stop the tides and currents if it meant giving you the serenity you desired."

He stopped right in front of her, the gentle look in his eyes remaining the same. She looked back up at him, finding any traces of deceit in his hazel eyes, or anything that proved that he wasn't real.

But in them she only saw the warmth and love that he sent her way, the reflection of their memories worth for thousands of years, the one that the wisdom goddess didn't expect the sea god to give her.

"Hey," Nikolai said, his voice coming out in a broken whisper. His face crumpled when he brought a hand to her cheek. A quivering smile made its way to his lips as he said, "I'm sorry I'm late."

A sob tore from her throat as Zoya lunged at him, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly as if he would disappear again if she let go.

He's here. "You're back," she sobbed against his shoulder. "You're back."

She felt his arms around her not a moment later, strong and warm and welcoming, the same way she remembered even after a long time. The world could have burned down around them, and still Zoya wouldn't have cared, not when he was finally back to her.

"I remember," Nikolai was saying over and over, his voice shaking from crying. "I remember it all." He pulled away slightly, just enough to look in her eyes and see the relief reflected back in them. Tears fell freely from his eyes as he pressed his lips on her cheek— "So many lives, I've lived" —his lips went to the bridge of her nose— "So many times I've met you" —he moved to her eye— "And I didn't even know it was you that I was missing."

He pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed tightly. He brought his hands up to the sides of her face. "You always found me," he whispered, "and when I remembered, I knew it was my time to find you." He reached for her hand, bringing it to his chest, and she felt the steady beat of his heart as if it had finally found peace and its home. "I love you. I loved you in every life. My mind could forget, but my heart and soul never did."

Zoya laughed, but it came as a broken sob instead. She reached her other hand up to his face, her touch still hesitant. Everything felt like a dream. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that it was here, she wanted to make sure it was real.

But he was warm and his presence comforting, and he was looking at her the same way he did when he stopped the tides for her that one night on the beach.

More tears fell from her eyes. "I never thought I'd see you again. I've watched you slip away for a thousand years, and yet my love for you remained the same, if not stronger," she said, voice hoarse. "I missed you every single day."

Nikolai leaned into her hand, pressing a kiss on her palm, and then on her wrist. A few tears landed on her skin. "I love you. I'm here now." His lips moved to her forehead. "I love you."

She clutched him closer to her. "I thought I lost you," she said. She closed her eyes as he moved to press a lingering kiss to her temple. Her voice broke when she repeated, "I thought I lost you."

"I know, I'm sorry," he murmured against her skin. "But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled away to look in her eyes. "I'm not leaving you again."

And when he sealed his promise with a kiss, Zoya felt the thousands years' worth of pain and longing lift from her chest, replaced by the feeling of warmth and contentment, and finally, home. It would be another start for the both of them, as they had a lot of time to make up for. The road would be tedious, but they had each other.

Her love could last for another eternity.

***

A/N: I have a short, fluffy one of the same au in the works. Might post it soon. JASHFLJASF

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #idk this took me a while #and i made myself sad over this #basically gods/goddesses au #they're poseidon and athena #but also not really #i needed the rivalry ok #HASDFLKJHA #i tweaked some in the mythology #so yeah #im trash #and sad #have this long mess tho #my writing

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nicollekidman · 4 years ago

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dude ...I used to hope Taylor swift was bi / a fellow lesbian out of optimism lol, because i admire her work and when seen through the lens of a closeted woman all the secrecy metaphors make a lot of sense.... it would be so fascinating and heartbreaking if it were true! but I’m getting too old for conspiracies . I dunno. What keeps you believing?

okay so! i’m gonna preface this with a few things: it’s gonna be long bc i haven’t talked about taylor in a long time and i’m having Feelings and Thoughts, and my journey with miss swift is necessarily very personal and i won’t pretend otherwise!

firstly: i don’t think i need to “keep” being convinced. for me it’s not an ongoing search for evidence - i believe that her songs speak for themselves and all the personal clues that might or might not be reaches are just icing on the cake.

i grew up in a country music-listening household and loved tim mcgraw when it came out as a single when i was in middle school! i was pretty much hooked on her songwriting for then on, and her albums always seemed to come out at pivotal points of my life. “we are never ever getting back together” was the soundtrack to my move to university in 2012 and 1989 coincided with my junior year which was revelatory in that it was the time when i was really coming to terms with being gay. my journey with taylor dovetails super closely with my own personal journey, in ways that i think are familiar to a lot of people. as a young girl i latched onto her storytelling and her confessional voice and then as i began to realize i was experiencing attraction to women, i found a lot of comfort and understanding in her lyrics. this happened for me really late in life compared to some people! i was 21/22 when i first identified as bi, and it wasn’t until later i began to think it was possible i was a lesbian. my experience with unlearning compulsory heterosexuality, examining my own emotional interior life, and thinking about why it took me over 20 years to even consider i could possibly love women made me look at taylor in a new light.

i think everything i need is in her music. that’s where taylor is at her most uninhibited and truthful. i think when you look at the themes/relationships she’s been writing about since she was a teen, you can see that as long as you’re willing to suspend the presupposition that everyone is straight until proven otherwise, she writes in a way that resonates with gay women for a reason!! as a younger artist she relied on a lot of fairy tale imagery, perspective shifts, and idealized stories of love. especially when she talks about those songs.... (and she still does this), she’s always connecting them to movies, to books, to things outside of her own experience. and when she is clearly talking about herself, she takes second-person pov or otherwise spins narratives that are full of yearning and a hope for a perfect fairytale in the future. i think that mode of almost.... daydreaming about an idealized version of a love story hits close to home for us! and then her later albums are MUCH louder, with themes (as people have pointed out over and over again) that just don’t hold much weight if you view them through the lense of a very famous wealthy woman writing about equally well-to-do white men. when i hear songs about forbidden love, itching to hold the hand of your beloved in public, crying over seeing heroes die alone, spinning a portrait of a life in the future where she can share her home and her love with all her friends.... when she writes so acutely of pain and agony associated with living in a fishbowl and enduring long periods of being undercover and secretive with only stolen moments of peace/beauty.... EVERYTHING i need to believe she’s not straight is in her songwriting, which i view through the personal lense of being a gay woman myself.

everything else... the masterposts and the powerpoints and the “clues”... those are helpful in terms of opening your eyes to the concept of PR relationships and recognizing that just because you’re fed something by a celebrity doesn’t mean it’s real, but it’s not the base of my feelings about taylor. i will say though, i originally was convinced that taylor was a lesbian because of swiftgron, what we know about the two of them publicly without any reaching was enough for me to recontexualize lyrics i thought i knew the story behind, and to start thinking about her whole body of work differently. i will say also that i was never one to follow along with taylor’s personal life until this point, i had a passing awarness of the men she was supposed to have dated but i didn’t give it much thought. however, i saw swiftgron stuff right as i was recognizing i was gay myself, so it opened my eyes and almost... gave me permission to understand that het is not the default!! then of course i’ve been active since 1989 and watced kaylor unfold in real time. it is still my belief that during the glass closeting era, they were obvious because the kaylor rumors benefited both of them and laid the groundwork for a coming out that was derailed by kissgate. everything afterwards..... well...

i am not a fan of thinking of this as a “conspiracy” i think that that idea is perpetuated by homophobes that think that everyone is straight and assuming otherwise is somehow an insult or a gross invasion of privacy. i think the vast majority of people who think taylor is gay are doing what all swifties do, which is analyze her music with a layer of projection and personal identification. however i do think that taylor encouraged the speculation for a while, and fully intended to leverage existing kaylor fans into a solid base when she came out (which i do think was planned post-yntcd but was shelved). i think there is PLENTY to look at in her public image and personal posts/behavior that would lead to a person who is willing to look at things objectively to come to the conclusion that she wasn’t straight. she has absolute control over her image and there were too many public outings and “coincidences” to be an accident.

HOWEVER i think that people who run blogs or talk about her gayness based on obscure clues and overanalyzing every micro-movement are missing the point and often too dedicated to their own placement as “Big Blogs” or receivers of “intel”, in a way that is mostly embarassing and myopic. i have always always been of the general opinion that we will never know every detail of taylor’s relationships, nor are we entitled to that information. she is a breathing, thinking, complicated woman with a HUGE public life and an equally huge private life that belongs to her alone.

building a public platform based on smoke signals and secret messages and inside sources has never been something i’m at all interested in, and is largely unnecessary. her story is all right there in the lyrics of her songs, and the things she shares with us publicly. i do think there have been hints/clues in the past and they’re very fun to analyze (which she encouraged!!), but much of the digging/reaching is unnecessary! we will never know for sure until she comes out herself, but i believe that her whole body of work and her messaging speaks for itself. the only thing keeping people from more widely accepting this is truly the assumption that being heterosexual is a default, and you have to Prove otherwise with a preponderance of evidence. i readily admit all of this is influenced by my experiences and emotions as a gay woman, but everyone projects onto taylor swift.

i’m fully convinced based on her music + her past public relationships with women like dianna and karlie + her intentional hints that she is a lesbian. however i am not interested in inventing “evidence” because she’s not on trial! and i’m happy to wait for her to come out, which i absolutely think was planned for lover era and then abandoned for various reasons!!

#THIS IS INCOHERENT SORRY!#taylor swift #long post //#Anonymous

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confused-android · 4 years ago

Text

Day 13, Todd - Family

----------------

Amanda: hey, what time are you showing up at mom and dad's on tuesday? (7:02PM)

Todd: For what? Why would I go to their house? (7:05PM)

Amanda: …for hannukah? they sent out the invite three weeks ago, asshole. check your fucking email (7:10PM)

Todd switches apps on his phone and opens his Gmail account. The only things in his inbox are bills and spam. He looks in his spam folder, and even checks his agency account, just in case they had, for some reason, found that email address and sent him an email there.

Nothing.

He searches both accounts for his mom's email address, and finds only the last email she'd sent him, before all of this shit went down. Before he'd told Amanda the truth, and she'd told their parents. Before he was on the FBI's Most Wanted list for almost three months. Before they opened the agency.

From: Debora Brotzman <[email protected]> Date: 4/8/16 2:14 PM To: Todd Brotzman <[email protected]> Subject: Visiting Mandy?

Hey sweetie, it's MOM. Mandy said she's feeling better this week – are you going to visit her? Call me when you get there, if you can! :-) Dad found a place to give him an interview, even with his knee, so send him some love and prayers! :-) I miss you, you're doing great.

Love, MOM <3 (Mandy says this is a heart, but in case you can't tell, imagine I put a heart there!)

He hadn't called her on that visit – all of his attention was taken up by Dirk, and it felt weirdly vulnerable to call his mother in front of some weird stranger. After that visit to Amanda, he'd been a little too busy to call her during the Patrick Spring case, and then he was afraid calling her would be trackable, and would bring the FBI down on his and Farah's heads. And since getting back to Seattle… Well, he's tried calling his parents a few times, and sent them an email over the high holidays, but they haven't responded.

He knows why, but it's just been easier to pretend that they were busy, to let Amanda send him occasional messages when she visited home, to imagine that they just… hadn't gotten around to responding to his lengthy apology email.

That strategy doesn't seem to be possible, here.

Todd: No email. (7:43PM)

Amanda: you sure? (7:44PM)

Todd: Yeah. (7:46PM)

Amanda doesn't respond and Todd slumps back into the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. This was… this was utterly predictable. He knew this was coming as far back as Amanda's first Pararibulitis attack, and this is what he knew would happen if they ever found out, and he can't pretend that they're just busy any more. He hasn't been invited home for the family Hanukkah celebration. He's not family any more.

This is the natural consequences of his actions, and he isn't even sure if he deserves to feel miserable.

Fuck.

Why does this suck so much? It's not like he was close with them, anyway. Not for a lack of effort on his parents' behalf, of course. That last email from his mom is typical. Just that it's hard to want to spend time with people you hurt, you're hurting, even if they don't know it. He kept hanging with Amanda because she needed him, and he needed to keep trying to make up for how shitty he was, but there was no way that he could ever save up enough to pay his parents back for years of – of stealing from and lying to them. So spending time with them, talking to them beyond occasional five minute phone call and a yearly awkward hanukkah gathering, never really happened.

Does this even matter? Should it matter?

Of course it matters. It's a punishment from his parents, for being awful to them. He's supposed to feel like shit.

Well, that's successful, then.

Dirk and Farah are out at some kind of trivia night thing, and Todd is honestly kind of relieved. He's not sure if he can handle them right now. Not in a bad way. Just that, Farah wants to be comforting but isn't ever really sure how, and Dirk is sure that he knows how to be comforting but rarely succeeds, and Todd always has to pretend that he feels very comforted by whichever of them has drawn the short straw to hang out with him when he's miserable, and he doesn't really feel like pretending right now.

His phone dings.

Amanda: i texted mom. (8:12PM)

Todd: …? (8:14PM)

Amanda: she said it wasn't an accident (8:20PM)

Todd: I figured *shrug emoji* (8:22PM)

Amanda: i feel kind of weird about this, tbh? (8:24PM)

Amanda: like, i'm still pissed at you, but you know that, and we're working on it (8:24PM)

Amanda: and i told mom that and she said that you emailed her for yk and apologized and that she didn't respond (8:24PM)

Amanda: and that sounds shitty of her? (8:25PM)

Amanda: but also you were shitty (8:26PM)

Amanda: like, really shitty (8:26PM)

Todd: I know that. I was shitty. And she doesn't have to respond to me. (8:27PM)

Amanda: it just feels weird bc she's our mom (8:31PM)

Todd: Yeah. (8:32PM)

Todd: I'm… having some feelings about it. (8:32PM)

Amanda: well i guess i'm proud of you for having feelings? idk (8:33PM)

Amanda: do you want me to not go? (8:37PM)

Todd: No! (8:37PM)

Todd: No, no. Go spend Hanukkah with mom and dad. I'm bummed, but I'll be fine. (8:37PM)

Todd: I'll try emailing them again next Yom Kippur, I guess. That always seemed to mean something to dad. (8:39PM)

Amanda: that could work (8:40PM)

Amanda: idk (8:40PM)

Todd: I don't know either, if it helps. This sucks, but I knew it was coming, I guess. (8:42PM)

Amanda: :/ (8:45PM)

Todd: :/ (8:46PM)

Todd drops his phone on the coffee table and stands up, shoves his hands through his hair, and sits right back down. Then he stands up again, because while he has no idea what to do with himself, he at least wants to not know what to do somewhere other than the couch. He looks in the fridge without taking anything out of it, contemplates and rejects the idea of a shower, and then grabs the pipe and lighter from his dresser and climbs out the kitchen window and on to the fire escape. He leans up against the side of the building and shivers as a gust of December air hits his neck and seeps in through the fabric of his hoodie.

"Fuck," he says, voice lost in the night, and cups the bowl in one hand and lights it with the other. He takes a long inhale. The smoke floods his lungs and he tops it off with clean, cold air, then holds the breath for a beat before exhaling. He lets the smoke drift away and sits with the scent lingering in his nose before taking a second hit, and then a third. He taps the ash out through the grate next to him, shoves the pipe and lighter back into his hoodie pocket, and thumps his head back against the brick.

It's hard to not feel like a complete piece of shit when your parents have disowned you. Like, the people who are supposed to love and care for you no matter what just don't want to see you for the holidays? That's pretty bad.

He knows that it's not like he doesn't deserve it – he did a horrible thing. Like, a really horrible thing. The kind of thing that gets you disowned by your parents. But it… it really sucks. This whole situation sucks. And it's a situation he made, which means that he sucks.

It's cold outside. Not quite freezing, but not that far above it, either, and his hoodie isn't quite cutting it. He doesn't go inside, though. If he goes inside, he'll check his phone and reread the conversation with Amanda, and have to start thinking about it all over again. So he just stays on the fire escape, buries his chin in the collar of his hoodie, and tries to think about anything other than his parents choosing to ignore him, and not see him for the holidays.

"Fuck," he says again. And that seems to sum it up.

Todd loses track of how long he spends on the fire escape, but it's long enough that he's not really cold any more, just trembling slightly, when the door to the apartment bangs closed.

"Shit," Dirk swears, his voice drifting through the window. "It's bloody freezing in here."

"The window's open," Farah adds, baffled, and then says, "Todd?"

"Todd!" Dirk echoes, his voice a little louder than hers.

"I'm out –" Todd coughs, then tries again. "I'm out here! Sorry!"

He can hear some bustling and movement from inside, and then a long leg sticks through the open window and taps around, looking for the floor, and is then quickly followed by a body. Dirk steps out of the way for Farah, who is altogether more graceful when exiting the building, and they both look down at him, separate expression of confusion on their faces.

"Why are you out here?" Dirk asks bluntly.

Farah shakes her head and puts on hand on Dirk's shoulder, asks, "how long have you been out here?"

Todd shrugs. "Maybe since nine? I'm not sure. What time is it?"

"It's almost ten," Farah says, and crouches down in front of him. "What the hell, Todd?"

"I'm sorry," he says, too tired to really get riled up, or even defensive. "I didn't know what time it was. I left my phone inside."

"Will you, um. Come inside now?" Farah tries, and looks up at Dirk for back-up. Dirk has a funny expression on his face, though, and steps around both of them. He sinks to the floor next to Todd and wiggles up close, until they're pressed together at the shoulder and hip. "Dirk!" Farah exclaims.

"Come on," Dirk says, and gestures to the floor on the other side of Todd. She opens her mouth like she's going to object again, but then something on Todd's face, or on Dirk's face, seems to speak to her, and she scoots back a bit and tips off her heels and down to sitting. Farah holds still for a long moment, steeling herself with a deep breath, then presses against Todd's other side. The brick at his back and the metal grate under his ass are still cold, but his two best friends are warm on either side of him. For a moment, at least, he feels like he has family.

------------------

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth day two, Farah - Dance day three, Farah - Gore day four, Farah - GNC fashion day five, Farah - AU day six, Farah - Family (to be written) day seven, Farah - Pride (to be written) day eight, Todd - Youth (to be written) day nine, Todd - Dance (to be written) day ten, Todd - Gore day eleven, Todd - GNC Fashion day twelve, Todd - AU

prompt list

#dghda #dirk gently #DGHDAtober #todd brotzman #family #marijuana use #sad Todd #h/c? i guess?#sorry todd #but you definitely did this to yourself #fanfiction #my fic

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rivalsforlife · 4 years ago

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i'm holding myself back from asking commentary on almost every scene from the catch up game bc i love so much how you wrote phoenix in that fic!! that said, could u do commentary on the last 2 scenes from the first chapter (party + gumshoe), if that's not too long or on parts of it if it's too much?

Sure thing!! The scenes on their own are already over 2000 words so I’ll put them under a keep reading for everyone’s peace of mind.

Alright let’s start then...

The bachelor party was beyond Phoenix’s expectations. He’d been expecting Edgeworth to be much stingier with the spending, considering his general attitude towards Gumshoe’s salary. But he’d agreed to rent the bar out and pay for one drink for everyone, plus transportation home for those who couldn’t do it themselves. Phoenix… was surprised, actually. He’d known for a long time now that Edgeworth appreciated Gumshoe much more than he let anyone know about, but it was still surprising to see in action.

this paragraph brought to you by My AAI2 Feelings, particularly the parts where Gumshoe really does come through in the investigations, so much that Miles actually gives him a salary raise at the end... it did a great job developing their friendship, I loved it a lot.

(Also I headcanon that after aai2 but possibly before that... every “I’m going to cut your salary!!” that Miles says does not actually result in a salary cut. poor gumshoe can barely feed himself as it is. but Miles can’t be, like... Nice about it so he’s just going to pretend. Gumshoe understands. it’s like an inside joke now.)

And honestly figuring out this whole party scene was such a pain. I still feel like it could be better but I’m not sure how? I just had the goal of “get someone to let it slip that Miles is in love with Phoenix” but then there was the issue of a) who knew Miles well enough to know this, and b) who knew Phoenix well enough to talk about it, and c) what circumstances would let them slip up and say it. The answer was Gumshoe because he can’t resist leaking information to the defense... even when it’s information about his boss’s personal life. oops.

Athena dropped by for a movie night, since Pearls was too young to attend. Phoenix wasn’t worried about them; he was sure they wouldn’t get into any more trouble than he and Maya could at the party.

OOF AWKWARD PARAGRAPH this is a remnant from when I shifted a lot of scenes around in this chapter. I thought it would be cute if Athena and Pearl were friends. And I think there was more to this but then it was distracting from the overall topic so I cut it out... resulting in this.

“Pals!” a familiar voice boomed at the entrance to the bar, and Phoenix soon found himself and Maya swept up in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad you both could make it!”

“Gumshoe!” Maya returned the hug enthusiastically. “It’s been forever, man!”

“Sure has!” Gumshoe released them, allowing Phoenix the opportunity to wheeze and clutch at his ribs, while Gumshoe ruffled Maya’s hair. “Been keeping yourself out of trouble?”

“You know it!”

“Uh, I had several sleepless nights last year suggesting otherwise,” said Phoenix.

“Shut it, Nick.” Maya elbowed him, not helping with the situation with his ribs, and beamed.

a little bit of banter that really just serves as a transition thing. most of the party is actually both “transition scene to indicate that the party did, in fact, happen before I get to the important stuff” and “introduce some important character stuff while I have time to fill”.

and of course these sleepless nights are in reference to pretty much the whole plot of SOJ...

One last note that I think Gumshoe probably gives great hugs, if you can survive your ribs potentially being crushed in the process. he doesn’t mean anything by it. he’s big and strong and likes hugs so much he forgets how big and strong he is.

... ps I love Gumshoe

“But congrats, Gumshoe! Seems like just last decade Nick and I were wandering around trying to pass your lunches over to Maggey.”

“God, it’s been that long, hasn’t it?” Phoenix reminisced. It was odd, thinking back on cases he took before he was disbarred, before he became a father to a daughter who wasn’t even with him today.

Gumshoe chuckled. “Guess so, pals. You two’ve really been there since the beginning, huh? Maggey and I wouldn’t be here today without you.”

Phoenix smiled. “Aww, Gumshoe…”

“And that’s why I get to be maid of honor, huh?” asked Maya with a sly grin.

“Maid of honor?!” Phoenix looked to Gumshoe, who didn’t object, before rounding back on his best friend. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“You didn’t ask!” Maya sighed. “If it weren’t for me eating Gumshoe’s beloved bento box in front of Maggey, who knows if we’d be here today?”

“I don’t think that was a deciding factor at any point…”

Gumshoe clapped Phoenix on the shoulder. “Sorry, pal. Would’ve made you the best man, but, y’know… Mr. Edgeworth.”

“Yeah, of course, no hard feelings, pal.”

“What’d I tell you about stealing my trademark, huh, pal?” Gumshoe laughed before stepping back into the bar. “C’mon in, you two.”

REALLY just more awkward transition scenes haha. Maya is the maid of honor in this fic mostly because I went to Maggey’s profile page and she was the only woman listed under the “friends” list... and we don’t know much about Maggey’s personal life. plus more “Miles and Gumshoe friendship” agenda pushing in here!

There were more people there than Phoenix was expecting, and many of them he hadn’t met. Edgeworth had mentioned that he would let Gumshoe select the guest list, but he’d kind of expected this to be people the two of them knew. Or, at least, that Phoenix knew — Edgeworth seemed to recognize more, which was rare, and was currently speaking with someone Phoenix vaguely recognized as an Interpol agent he’d worked with on a few cases back when Phoenix would help him out in Europe.

Ema ran up to them and made small talk before she and Maya got caught up in discussion about some show Phoenix had never heard of, so he wandered off to find someone else to talk with.

And there was… no one, really. Gumshoe and Edgeworth were talking with strangers, and Phoenix didn’t want to butt in on that conversation — he thought he saw Larry lurking about but couldn’t find him right now — and anyone else Phoenix recognized he either hadn’t talked to in years or was sure didn’t recognize him.

Phoenix hadn’t realized just how much his disbarment affected him, in these little ways. He looked out over the crowd of people Gumshoe or Edgeworth spoke to and had no idea who they were. It had been eight years out of touch with the rest of the legal world — eight years to fall behind.

It was… oddly lonely. Eventually it was just Phoenix standing there at the bar with a glass of grape juice in his hand. He was beginning to wish he’d ordered some more euphemistic “grape juice” instead.

You know that feeling when you go to a party and your one (1) friend leaves you and then you have no one to talk to and don’t know what to do -- maybe? That’s kind of the thing. slight Lang cameo in there.

ORIGINALLY Ema and Maya were going to talk about Lana and Mia and kind of hint at some Lanamia stuff in there, but then I thought about it and really why would Phoenix pass up an opportunity to gossip about his boss’s past relationships.

And this also tries to kind of go for one of the general... “themes” of the fic? More of an exploration into Phoenix’s loneliness/how he copes with not having people around him. RFTA and JFA in particular kind of really entrenched that he Does Not Do Well without people to take care of -- which comes up a lot during this fic. And part of getting to explore those issues is essentially me trying to make Phoenix as alone as possible. ... sorry Phoenix!

Also in here is a lot of “disbarment should have messed up Phoenix more than DD and SOJ would lead you to believe” -- he essentially spent seven years completely disgraced, it’s unlikely he made a lot of notable legal connections, aside from maybe Miles and Miles’ social circle. He probably missed out on a lot.

The last paragraph there is just referencing the “grape juice” thing - I do believe it is literal grape juice and not an alcohol euphemism, and I believe it was also literal grape juice in the original, so that’s what it ends up being.

“Hey, Niiiick…”

… But Phoenix supposed that just when you’re feeling down, the Butz arrives to drag you down further. “Hey there, Larry.”

Larry slumped against the bar beside him with a sigh, a glass of what definitely wasn’t grape juice in his hand. “Y’know Franzy didn’t even show up to this?”

“I’m not surprised. Being whipped half to death during your own bachelor party isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time, y’know?” In truth, he knew Franziska couldn’t make it down until just a few days before the wedding because of work — or so Edgeworth had told him — though he couldn’t help but wonder if Gumshoe was grateful for it.

Larry muttered something under his breath that sounded like it might’ve been contradicting Phoenix’s last statement, which Phoenix decided he was certainly not going to press further on, before Larry cleared his throat and continued. “But why’re you out here by yourself, Nick? Maya ditched you?”

“No, not at all,” Phoenix lied. “Just… taking in the scenery.”

“... Huh. Never took you for the wallflower type.” Larry frowned. “I mean, we did use to spend school dances in the corner by ourselves… guess some things never change.”

“Please don’t remind me of middle school ever again.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Larry, who then did. “But I get it, dude. I was kinda hoping for some more excitement here… more ladies…”

“Don’t worry Larry, I’m sure you’ll find someone else to pester tonight,” Phoenix commented dryly.

... enter Larry Butz.

I really did try to explore the relationships of all the important people in Phoenix’s life... Larry though is so insufferable in canon I didn’t really have the heart to fit him in, so he falls out. (Apollo also doesn’t show up much, aside from the bit in chapter 5, that’s because he’s in a different country and I couldn’t come up with much of a role for him.)

And I also do believe that Larry and Phoenix were super unpopular in school. Larry was... Larry, and Phoenix was probably very sensitive up until the Dahlia Incident, and together they had enough unlikable traits that anyone who could spend time with one wouldn’t want to hang out with the other, but the two of them were loyal to each other. It’s my headcanon that Phoenix’s only real close friends throughout his childhood were Larry and Miles, which is part of why he got so attached to Miles to change his career for him.

“Yeah.” Larry’s eyes scanned the crowd before landing on a woman with dark hair in a high ponytail, and his face brightened. Phoenix cringed preemptively.

“Little miss Kay!” Larry called out, as the woman looked their way. “Looking as cute as ever! And more grown up, too…”

Phoenix tensed, suddenly feeling the wrath of hell creeping up behind them.

“Larry Butz,” a deadly voice boomed, “if you go anywhere near her, I will sue you for everything you are worth, little though it may be.”

Larry jumped and spilled half his drink over his jacket. “Geez, Edgey,” he grumbled, scuttling off to find a napkin. Phoenix, hoping it was safe now with the target gone, turned back around to meet the glare of his other childhood friend. “Hey, Edgeworth.”

Larry being gross but more importantly: me pushing the Dadworth agenda!

“You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Edgeworth,” said the woman with a laugh. “I’m an adult. I know how to effectively break someone’s kneecaps if they bug me.”

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. “Though I don’t necessarily disapprove, do we need to talk about avoiding criminal records again, young lady?”

“Sheesh, you’re still treating me like a kid,” she huffed, before noticing Phoenix and extending a hand. “Sorry about that! Kay Faraday. I’m Mr. Edgeworth’s assistant.”

Edgeworth gave an exasperated sigh, though Phoenix could detect a note of fondness to it. “You haven’t been my assistant for over ten years, Kay.”

“So you finally admit I was your assistant at some point!”

“Ngrk…”

Phoenix laughed and took her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Phoenix Wright, attorney at law.”

Kay grinned. “Oh, I know! Gummy debriefed me on you, Mr. That Man.”

“Kay,” Edgeworth warned.

“Plus I kept up with the news,” Kay continued, before Phoenix could say anything. “I’m a big fan of your work! Anyone who can take Mr. High-and-Mighty over there down a notch or two is a hero in my book.”

“Ha, I appreciate that.” Usually the first thing people said to Phoenix after saying they saw him on the news was much more negative.

I really still can’t believe Kay would be 27 here. that’s just so weird. she’s permanently seventeen in my mind. --- said by miles, probably

Even though this was supposed to be a fic about Phoenix’s important canon relationships Kay just wormed her way in here. I love her so I didn’t make any particular effort to take her out of this. Plus it gives me the opportunity to write my favourite things: Dadworth, and also Kay bullying Miles.

And yeah the part about people seeing Phoenix on the news is a reference to disbarment... can’t imagine anyone would have had anything particularly nice to say to him, especially those first few years.

“Kay has been assisting some of the prosecutors and myself through some tricky crime scenes lately,” Edgeworth informed him.

“Technically I’m a P.I., but Mr. Edgeworth said they’re really short-staffed these days, so I thought I’d lend him a hand,” Kay elaborated.

“Oh, so I might be running into you at the crime scene someday.”

“Probably!” She grinned. “Though I’m not gonna go easy on you just ‘cause Mr. Edgeworth likes you.”

“Kay.”

“Oh is that Ema over there?” Kay said loudly. “I’ve gotta run, see you around!”

She dashed off. Edgeworth sighed.

At first I made Kay just a straightforward detective, but I changed it pretty last minute. I feel like she’d want to do her own thing, plus this way she can assist from the outside when dealing with Dark Age of the Law Corruption-type stuff. Miles hires her because canon says he was left pretty short-staffed in SOJ. I’m not... totally sure what the laws are regarding private investigators working with police, but this is a fictional universe with fictional laws so I will do what I want.

Aside from that... more Kay making fun of Miles.

“She seems energetic,” Phoenix commented.

“Indeed she is.”

“... Why did she call me ‘Mr. That Man’?”

Edgeworth coughed. “I’ve not the slightest idea,” he said, turning his head to the side. “That aside, this whole affair is going much smoother than I expected, aside from that slight mishap.”

“Yeah, murder’s not really the best way to kick off a bachelor party, huh? Even if it is Larry. But I think we did alright.”

“Indeed.”

As if on cue, a loud cheer rose up from the crowd at the far corner of the bar.

“... Do you smell something?” Phoenix asked, and true to form, the swaying form of Larry crawled on top of a table.

People making fun of That Man is one of my favourite tropes regarding the AAI characters.

I don’t actually know how bachelor parties work, but if anyone can make them into an overly dramatized super wild party... it’s Larry.

Edgeworth groaned and began to storm off, but Phoenix grabbed him by the hand to hold him back. “Edgeworth, it’s a party, let them have their fun.”

“I… suppose so,” Edgeworth relented, but his hand was still tense in Phoenix’s.

Phoenix released him. “C’mon, we can chaperone from a safe distance.”

Edgeworth nodded wordlessly, but Phoenix could sense that same feeling of unease from him again. He opened his mouth to ask about it but a loud shout took up his attention — this was something that could be dealt with later, he thought, as he and Edgeworth rushed over to the scene.

Miles internal monologue: Wright is holding my hand. Wright is holding my hand. Wright is holding my hand writgh is holding my hand wright is holdin g my ha--

Phoenix: uh. edgeworth?

So in this fic... Miles is gradually working up the courage to confess to Phoenix. He finally worked out his own feelings at some point prior to this fic starting but can’t quite admit them yet, so every time Phoenix does anything that can be remotely construed as romantic he just goes “!!!” and it’s probably all he can think about for a week. Poor guy! I’m sure that when he finally confesses all will be well.

Hours later, as the party wound down and various taxis came to take people home, Phoenix found himself crowded in a booth with a tipsy Maya and a drunk, gushing Gumshoe.

“... and I know she’s gonna just be so beautiful, pals, and what if it’s too much?” Gumshoe asked, lying sideways against the table. “What if they don’t let me see her and then the day of the wedding I look’t her and… I die?”

“People have gotten married without dying, Gumshoe,” Phoenix consoled him.

“But they don’t marry Maggey, pal…”

Maya snorted. “With her luck, I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that happened.”

“Hey, don’t tell him that!” Phoenix hissed.

really this wedding should have had way more disaster than I wrote about... probably at least one murder.

“No, no, don’t mention her luck, she’s already so worried,” said Gumshoe. “We’ve checked off every good-luck wedding charm in th’ book… but she still thinks somethin’s gonna go wrong. I love her, I really, really love her, pals…” A far off look crossed his face, and Phoenix wondered if anyone would ever speak of him like that, “... but she worries so much…”

“What’s she worried about?” Maya asked, slumping over against Phoenix’s shoulder.

“Ceremony, reception, if people’re gonna show up, if we’re gonna lose somethin’ important… even ‘s far as the bouquet toss. I told her, if you’re not sure, just toss it in th’ direction of you,” he pointed at Phoenix, “or at Mr. Edgeworth, and maybe it’ll work.”

Phoenix frowned. “Why me?”

Gumshoe let out a burst of hearty laughter. “I’m thinkin’ if you or Mr. Edgeworth catches it, it’ll give ‘im the courage to finally ask you out, pal.”

Maya shot straight up. Phoenix froze. “... What?”

probably not the smoothest way to get to the entire reason why this bachelor party exists, BUT.

Also it’s implied that Miles DID actually talk to Gumshoe about this at some point. probably Gumshoe caught him pining at a bad time haha.

“Y’know the old tradition, whoever catches it is the next to get married and all…” Gumshoe stared at them for a moment, before his eyes widened and a look of absolute horror crossed his face. “O-Oh! Crap! Pal!”

“Edgeworth wants to ask Nick out?!” Maya shrieked.

“FINALLY! IT’S ABOUT FREAKING TIME!”

originally Gumshoe used a much stronger word than “crap” but idk Gummy doesn’t seem like the type to curse much...? Maybe it’s a stretch haha. also “pal” as an exclamation is my favourite little Gumshoe speech tic

“Shh, shh!” Gumshoe reached over to clamp a hand over her mouth but fell, collapsing on the table. “You heard nothin’ from me, pals, got it? Mr. Edgeworth’s gonna kill me if he finds out… worse, stop funding the wedding…”

Death is one thing but the WEDDING...

And I can’t remember if I mentioned at any point that Miles was also funding the wedding haha but it’s probably also something he wouldn’t want to tell anyone. Gumshoe with his perpetually terrible salary (which is also Miles’ fault) plus Maggey with her inability to hold down a job before being fired in a murder-related incident probably means they don’t have a lot for a nice wedding so Miles offered. secretly and evasively. because he’s a nice person but also doesn’t want anyone to know that.

Maya stared at Phoenix, her mouth agape, as Gumshoe continued mumbling to himself under his breath about the various consequences of Edgeworth’s hypothetical wrath. Phoenix, meanwhile, felt like his brain had short-circuited.

That wasn’t possible. He must have heard Gumshoe wrong. Edgeworth didn’t think of him that way. Edgeworth didn’t think about anyone that way, Phoenix had thought, for the longest time.

Little do you know, Phoenix!

Touching on the aroace Miles headcanon here because it’s a very valid interpretation of his actions even if it’s not my own...

… Even if Edgeworth had been acting strange lately, even if something in his expression softened when he looked at Phoenix, even if…

No. Phoenix quickly shoved that thought to the back of his mind. There were many things he knew about Edgeworth, and one of those was that Edgeworth saw him as a part-time friend and part-time annoyance, but never a romantic interest of any kind. The thought of it was just… just unbelievable.

Phoenix craned his head around, catching sight of a familiar pink jacket across the room and watched Edgeworth in the middle of some phone call. He would know if Edgeworth was interested in him that way… wouldn’t he?

At first “the back of his mind” was “the overflowing mental trunk of repression” but that seemed a little too on the nose. Just know that’s essentially what he’s doing.

Another thing I wanted to establish throughout the fic was how close Phoenix and Miles are now -- they essentially know each other really well. And thinking about that part in Turnabout Goodbyes where Phoenix declares that “I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth”, I kind of interpreted that Phoenix Knowing Things About Edgeworth is an important part of their relationship to him. And the occasions where Miles did surprise him (with some aspect of his personality) weren’t always very good things... realizing he’d turned into a “demon prosecutor”, then the “choosing death” part... it’s a lot of my headcanons running away from me haha. Basically in this fic, Phoenix thinks he knows Edgeworth so well because he’s so close with him so an indication that there’s something about Edgeworth he doesn’t know or has completely wrong kind of... connects to him /not/ being as close to Edgeworth as he thinks he is? Maybe? And being close to him is something very important to Phoenix.

(This is not my personal opinion though haha, people can and will surprise you no matter how well you know them... but this fic is Phoenix’s Relationship Issues: The Fic, so.)

And no one else has mentioned the scenes where it comes up yet so I’ll talk about it here -- a lot of my editing process involved going through the fic and cutting out every instance of Phoenix either talking about him hypothetically being in love with Miles, or of Miles being in love with him. I just ctrl+f “love” and cut out whatever fit the criteria. Phoenix’s interpretation of Miles’ actions up until the end of chapter 5 isn’t exactly that Miles is Capital-L In Love with him, more that it’s like... a little crush? Mayyybe some physical attraction. Misconstrued admiration. Not anything so severe that Miles would willingly initiate a conversation about Feelings. so “He would know if Edgeworth was in love with him” changed to “He would know if Edgeworth was interested in him that way” because part of Phoenix’s issue here is that he can’t actually directly acknowledge the possibility that he’s in love with Miles or that Miles is in love with him. It’s a whole complicated thing I’ll probably talk about in the next commentary I do?

This got long but there’s the end of the chapter! I’ll answer more later...? These take up a lot of time haha.

#dvd commentary meme #the catch-up game #asks

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worstloki · 5 years ago

Note

hi i have a prompt: the hulk smash isnt enough to free loki from the mind stone, thanos/the other die with the chitauri. loki is still under the stones influence but his boss is dead, and being enthralled to No One In Particular is stressing him out so the stone decides to make the avengers his New Boss™ (bc while the tesseract is his one true love, All Infinity Stones Are Friends Of Loki (AISAFOL)). the avengers are Very Confused by lokis sudden and inexplicable desire to please them.

(This post got quite long, so I’ve put a barrier to stop unwanting eyes from having the travesty take forever to scroll down. You’re welcome.)

He suspected there were only two beings currently in the vicinity to toss him around like a ragdoll, and the mean green fighting machine was definitely the one he would prefer.

When the Hulk grabbed hold of Loki’s ankle he was hopeful that the Other’s hold on him would break, after all, hadn't ‘cognitive recalibration’ broken Barton from its influence? He did not try using magic to soften the blows as he was hit against the ground.

Loki felt the connection break, felt as the watcher’s eyes were pulled away and he could finally breathe without scrutiny. Which was fine, until he did a basic physiology check (to make sure he wasn’t hit too hard on the head) and found the mind stone still holding on to him. It was urging him to serve a commander he had no contact to and the irony of this was not wasted on Loki. The sceptre’s touch would soon fade. Probably.

He lay on the ground, savouring his victory: The Chitauri were mindless and would soon be easily defeated, the mind stone left near the portal to close, the fact that he would soon be back on Asgard, but most importantly, that Thanos was far far away from him. Loki would not be so easily captured again.

When he tried to pull himself out of the ground, (and yes, there really was a body-shaped hole were he had been left which was honestly impressive even for himself) he found the Avengers standing over him. Show offs.

This was fine though. Thor would not leave his brother on Midgard and wouldn’t have any way to get back to Asgard since Loki was the one with knowledge on how to use it. He would likely stand trial and be sentenced to death. Which was also fine (he knew several loopholes that he could exploit to avoid a death sentence).

Stark was the first to talk, “Alright you Ben Solo knockoff, get in the fancy handcuffs” he said. Perhaps not your best analogy, Loki was about to say when he felt his exhausted back straighten and found himself actually walking towards the man - something that he had in no way decided to do.

The fact that he had followed the instructions calmly just left everyone else more confused, if all 6 Avengers tensing up was any indication. So, it appeared the sceptre’s touch would not, in fact, be fading soon.

He felt himself hold his hands out for Tony to attach the handcuffs. They were Asgardian and would surely restrict his magic, which would definitely not be the best thing for him right now since he was trying to cut the Mind stone off.

The handcuffs were put around his wrists and, feeling his magic start to suppress as they touched his wrist he jerked his hands back out. He told me get in the handcuffs, he smiled at the thought, but he did not specify for how long I would have to keep them there.

He noticed after the Widow had caught onto his neck and slammed him to the ground that moving too fast would be seen as a sign of hostility, and was too busy figuring out how long he would survive on loop-holes before Earth’s heroes realised he was at their command, to resist being pinned to the ground. Thor placed Mjolnir strategically on Loki’s sleeve to keep him down - his sleeve, as if ripping through it wasn’t an option - the oaf either didn’t consider him a threat anymore (which was good) or hadn’t wanted to place it elsewhere and risk injuring Loki (which was also good), This amount of good luck was awfully suspicious.

“Why, brother?” Thor asked, as he stared down at Loki. Loki couldn’t exactly ignore the only thing he could see other than the ceiling and decided to give him an answer for the apparently sincere concern Thor had on his face.

“Because, Thor, I would rather he at least took me out to dinner first-”

Loki couldn’t see them but he knew at least Tony and Romanov would find the remark enough to smirk at despite the circumstances and Bruce and Steve would also find it amusing (even if they would not admit it). Barton’s sense of humour was a bit less dry but he could try something for that later. To Thor’s credit, all he did was act confused and turn away. He didn’t really care about Thor’s reaction. In fact, thinking about it, was finally being free putting him in a good mood, or was it the stone that was still doing something in his head? He was almost certain his sudden interest in what the Avengers thought of him was not natural… but he couldn’t say for sure, so mulling over it was pointless.

“I apologise for my brother, it seems his sense of humour took a hit in the fight” Thor told his team, “If one of you could hold his other hand I shall bound his wrists and mouth myself -”

“I don’t think you’ll need to do that,” Tony stepped forward, coming into view, which was awfully kind of him since Loki could literally only see Thor and the roof as he laid on the ground and wasnt bothered to get up, “He’s Loki, right? I read up on him a bit and he mostly avoids stuff because of the wording people use… combine that with the fact that he walked over to me when I asked, but then didn’t let me tie him it seems he’ s actually a pretty chill guy and wouldn’t object if I ask him to hold still long enough for me to put them on”. No one answered.

“That is a crazy outlandish theory, even for you man…” Hawkeye said, probably to break the silence. Loki considered his options and they were to either a) Not do anything and let Tony test out his theory (which would be true and then the Avengers would realise that he will do whatever they wanted happily and not end well for himself) or b) say something now that could convince Tony not to try it (which, considering Tony and his curious streak, would be pretty hard to pull off…).

He found an uncomfortable position in which he could hold himself up and face the Avengers while keeping his left arm pinned down. He settled for option b and hoped the norns were feeling kind today.

“Hello, I’m Loki, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced but long story short I was tortured and then forced into trying to subjugate your planet - sorry about that by the way - but I’m mostly back now and would rather not put the handcuffs on for the previously stated reason but also because I’m healing up a serious head injury at the moment and those cuffs restrict the healing.”. The injury part was a lie of course, he just didn’t enjoy his magic being meddled with (and was trying to get rid of the mind stone which refused to leave) and Thor wouldn’t leave him at the mercy of Midgardian healing knowledge… the rest of it was true enough, with the omission of Thanos, a threat Loki would only mention to the only one probably able to do something; the Allfather.

“I’m calling BS,” Clint said, barely after Loki had closed his mouth. Rude. “The guy is literally infamous for lying, and he also had that sceptre that he used to mess with peoples brains, and he was trying to bring an alien army through that portal thing, and he has no proof that he isn’t making this all up. So.” he finished off eloquently.

They all shufted to the other side of the room and lowered their voices, presumably arguing over whether or not to trust him. Typical. This is what good telling the truth does.

Thor still stood with him though, and was trying to attach the handcuffs. Loki decided to store them in his pocket dimension just to make sure Thor didn’t accidently succeed. Thor pulled out another pair. Loki neatly placed those in the pocket dimension too. Loki could do this all day.

The Captain, (their semi-leader? Loki was unsure how Tony and Steve had split the responsibility but it seemed to lean either direction at random) cleared his throat and addressed him, “We’ve decided the handcuffs… won’t be necessary since we don’t want to submit you to a hospital- ”

“And because you wouldn’t be able to eat without your hands,” Tony cut in, presumably inviting him to the dinner Loki had mentioned, and got matching glares from Steve and Natasha in returned.

“But, we have also decided to test out Tony’s theory on how you lie because there’s no harm in not trying. After that you’ll be questioned by SHIELD and sent home.” Steve continued. He failed to mention what would be happening to the tesseract or mind stone which Loki thought was funny; as if Odin would let them keep three infinity stones on this planet. The thought that Odin may not even know what the sceptre and tesseract actually were crossed his mind but he dismissed it.

Clint stepped forward and said, “Do a backflip,”. There was an expectant silence that followed as if they all thought he would obey the absurd command.

“You realise I am stuck to the ground, do you not? Even if I could do a backflip, I wouldn’t be able to like this.“ When the silence grew heavier and Clint’s ears had turned as red as they could get Loki decided to continue, “Also, I can’t do backflips.”

The silence grew even heavier than before - if possible - and Loki watched as Barton received glares from basically everyone.

He decided he should take advantage of this to suggest something that would be useful to himself and them. “How about you ask me not to attack any of you as we leave the tower?” He prompted.

Natasha decided to speak instead, “Do not attack any of us indefinitely. In fact, while you’re at it, why don’t you magic me up some coffee.”.

The request was simple enough. He hadn’t planned on doing anything to harm them anyways. All he wanted was to get on Asgard and wait for the mind stone to wear off. “Done.” Loki said, then, holding out a cup of coffee that appeared in his hand (it was from the café across the road, where ‘Nick Fury’, some guy whose lack of an eye reminded him of Odin, had been about to take his first sip) he offered the cup to her. He even winked and added a pleased to be of service thinking she would actually accept the coffee. Of course, she did not.

“I’m afraid I don’t like the way the Director takes his coffee.” she said, a dangerous shine in her eyes, “Why don’t you drink it instead? I’m sure you’d love to drink the whole thing in one go.”. Natasha smiled nicely, as he said “whatever you say” and did just that. He hadn’t had coffee in a while so he might as well take the chance to taste it while he had some on him anyways. It was hot, sure, but he could use magic to prevent it from burning him. He drank it in one go.

There was no sugar in it. Loki hates coffee. He knows he hates coffee but its not like he had much of a choice. It was fine though. As long as he willingly does everything they asked the stone wouldn’t have to come into play and take over for him. To hide their control he wouldn’t just have to do everything happily and for the purpose of ‘because I wanted to do it anyways’ but he would have to do it convincingly.

That’s not too hard. He was a good liar after all. He could easily answer SHIELD’s questions then get to Asgard without them figuring it out…

“I cant explain how but it appears your theory was right, Stark, he’ll do whatever you ask if he is physically able to do. Good job on figuring it out.” Natasha said, winking at Loki when she was finished.

If he manages to get away now they’ll stop believing the true story he told them before. If he confirms that the stone is still affecting him they’ll know for sure that he has to do whatever they say. He watches each of them as they go through the stages of confusion, awe, disbelief and then settle on ‘confusion but with an attitude that says we are going to take full advantage of this discovery’. He stares at them in silence because he knows the only action he could take that won’t change any ridiculous demands they make will only confirm him as guilty for the crimes he (technically didn’t!) commit.

Well, #$&*, he thinks.

#I cannot write very well but that wont stop me from trying #With the benefit of hindsight quotes would've been funnier #but also I felt like it deserved a bit of context?#Thanks for the suggestion!#prompt appreciated!!

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amorrdemiel · 4 years ago

Text

I am ready for cherry pie.

I was trying to write this in my journal, but sometimes the feelings want to come out faster than my little hand can scribble so I came here to frantically type it all out.

I asked God to walk deeper into the Garden of Life. Earlier this summer, I knew I had found Heaven, I felt myself forgiven, I felt everyone forgiven, I felt us all to be love. But what I thought was living in Heaven was actually just the entrance, and I comfortably pulled up a chair to gaze lovingly at its doors lol, and I realized I could actually walk within. But I was afraid. I asked God for the courage and the clarity to walk deeper into the joy of life. And I heard her joy calling me, a song just for me. I heard her calling me to music, to sit at my piano keys and play. I heard her calling me through day dreams of traveling in a camper van of my own, of watcher her Holy sunrises at different oceans, to gaze at her freckle stars in the night, in deserts I had never crossed before. I heard her call upon the wind of peace, of sleep. I saw her show how gentle life truly was, how it was willing and wanting to caress me, to be caressed. BUT I still felt fear, and even worse a strange itch overcame me to purposely look for terrible things, things I don’t even want to look at on a regular basis. Wanting to purposely look at murders, at violence, at suffering. And I didn’t understand why. I knew better than to succumb to the itch to seek these things out, I knew it wouldn’t give me wisdom and I felt something strange about the itch. After a really good tarot reading from my sister, she helped me clarify that weird itch to find things horrific. Joy requires vulnerability, she said. And it is difficult to be vulnerable when you lack trust in life, down to a bone psychological level. She helped remind me of how when I broke my arm in the summer before third grade, it was a traumatic experience for me that changed the psychology of me forever. I didn’t know this until this week, but apparently because I was a child, they couldn’t give me anesthesia and the two options for my very large break in my arm, was either preform surgery on me while I was very much lucid and awake or rearrange my bones back into place blindly so they wouldn’t have to make a cut on me. Somehow, the best bone doctor in Texas at the time just so happened to be at the hospital in El Paso and he chose to blindly rearrange my bones back into place. and he told my mom and my dad to watch the pain I was about to go through because it would change me forever. My sister stayed too because she is brave and loving and wanted to be there for me, even though she too was just a child. They always tell me about how traumatic it was for them to see me screaming in pain as he was rearranging my broken bones, and I remember just searing pain lmao I just remember it being hours of pain, as they made me twist my arms for X-Rays, and when they kept twisting my arm to put my bones back into place. Truly painful lmao BUT point of the story is, I used to be a very active child before that, I was always running, playing music, I was always smiling and happily in my garden, I was a straight-A student in GT. And after that I wasn’t, and all the details to me don’t matter any more. (EVEN THO, I felt a little upset that my mom remembered how the doctor told her that I would be changed forever and my parents STILL screamed at me for hours when I stopped getting straight A’s, and couldn’t focus anymore. if the doctor told you I was changed forever, how come you still screamed at me for hours because I got a C? how come you literally told me: When you broke your arm, something got damaged in your brain, you must have hit your head and scrambled something, so try really hard to think what happened and change it, just change it. Go back to how you were. IDK I FEEL LIKE THAT KINDA CONTRIBUTED TO ME CUTTING AND HITTING MYSELF OUT OF FRUSTRATION, WOULDN’T YOU THINK? Like my sister summarized it the best, which was that they were holding me accountable, a child, for understanding the trauma I went through and working through it just so I could get the grades they wanted me to get. -___- BUT WHATEVER I AM LEARNING TO FORGIVE THEM FOR WHAT THEY COULDN”T UNDERSTAND THEN.) The beautiful thing I rather focus on, is after reminding me of this, my mom and my sister both cried and hugged me for a good solid ten minutes and kissed me, and told me that I don’t have to feel afraid anymore, that life isn’t what I feared it to be anymore, and that I am free and can be vulnerable to joy, and that is truly what I rather focus on than the past parents that didn’t know how to cope with what I had gone through. My sister also reminded me of how I conveniently forgot how earlier this year I went to see a physical therapist finally for my knee which hurt me a lot and made me feel like I couldn't go hiking or any of the adventurous things I wanted to do bc it hurt too much and he straight up told me that it was all PSYCHOLOGICAL. Which was super wild for me to hear, because I think he’s right! lmao. It reminds me of when I was a child, and I used to run out in my little garden in the sun all the time, and how sometimes I was suddenly forced to stop because I couldn’t move without feeling a lot of pain, and I would look down at my feet and I saw how all those thorned stickers were on my laces, my socks, my shoes and it hurt too much to move so I was just stuck. (Which makes me feel happy about that dream I once had where a large field beckoned me and I began running in its vastness barefoot, and I remember looking down and seeing a bunch of those thorned stickers and somehow missing every single one, and feeling so free.) Anyhow, I resolved to allow myself to be vulnerable to go into joy, and that even with this psychological, bone deep memory of trauma happening when I move. The day before yesterday, my sister made it aware to me that our betta Artemis has fin rot (mild) and I felt so in pain because of it. One thing I could never stand was seeing the people (or animals) I love in pain, and I’ve never acted on this impulse, but the first impulse I have when my sister tells me about a traumatic experience she’s had or I see my animals hurt is to say “NO! That’s NOT how you feel, this isn’t real.” BUt it’s so irrational to me, to say this, that I never act on it but I do have to convince myself by becoming more objective to handle the pain of seeing them in pain. But I guess I have allowed myself to feel more vulnerable and more sensitive to life (I used to allow myself to be sensitive when I was a toddler but I was just so overwhelmed and my parents would yell at you if you cried so I just capped it.) But I’m letting myself be sensitive, so I did feel angry at my sister initially for telling me that Artemis had fin rot, and I felt very upset, but I let it be there and we researched how to heal it and took immediate action the next day and even though my sister was sensitive about it, and I was sensitive about it, we did a great job at getting everything we needed, staying calm and supportive of one another, and it just always surprises me how much me and my sister haven’t adopted the way my mom and dad do things which is screaming, and panicked and violent. (Well, we worked ourselves out of it through love and patience.) But as we were driving to the pet store for the second time to get something else to help us out with Artemis’s tank, I told my sister about how allowing myself to feel the pain I felt at Artemis being sick, when I got home from the pet store this morning and went to say hello to my pug before getting started with my sister on deep cleaning his tank and getting salt in it to sterilize the wounds, I felt a much deeper and softer joy at hugging Qipsi and holding her in my arms and I realized that joy came from allowing myself to feel the pain of Artemis. That when I let myself feel the pain, it also let me feel the pull, the desire to tend to his tank, his little body and soul, his water much more diligently and the joy that arose in that, and it let me feel the pull and desire to tend to Qipsi more tenderly, and tend to myself more tenderly. And so pain, allowing the suffering allowed joy as well. My sister told me about how she read or saw that when you allow yourself to feel the pain, you allow yourself to feel the pathway to the healing of it. And that just shook me because I never looked at it like that. I always thought pain was useless, or was just to burn your ego, or just frustrating, but I see now how it led to more joy, it led to truer joy. How it led to truthful joy, and I never let it show me the healing. I was so afraid of pain, I never let it show me how to heal, I just hated how I was hurt to begin with. But if I could just focus my attention and the pathway to healing, and to feel the healing, the joy of it. AND SO, here I stand, on the precipice of fate, on the road I am asking to help guide me to the purpose of my life, the highest good of my life, and I feel I understand what joy and pain truly are. I asked God to lead me deeper into the garden of life, so that I may understand what I am here to provide, what of my highest good can I give back, and I was given clarity and courage. Clarity to understand the truth behind pain, the way it shines a path to the healing of you and me, to the healing of body and soul and courage to face the vulnerability that joy requires, that pain requires to open you to deeper joy, and so it goes. I want to play and create and enjoy this sandbox of life.

And I want cherry pie.

#personal #july #2020 #I am annoyed I had to go pee while writing this

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strawberrybrainrot · 5 years ago

Text

According to Legend pt. 2 (Sylvain x f!reader) request

Alternative title: Sylvain realizes he could’ve had a bad bitch

Pt. 1 Here

Notes: takes place after the timeskip and reader is a bad bitch bc I decided she can’t let a man hold her back sorry not sorry also can you tell I love paralells

After Emperor Edelgard started the war, the entire continent was sent into disarray. The monastery was left abandoned and broken. War and panic plagued the cities and tore families apart. When you saw how much the people of Fearghus were suffering, you decided you couldn’t sit back and watch. No longer bound by the confines of marriage and duty, you left home and spent the last five years using your status as a noble to help those in need find refuge.

Though Sylvain had not spoken to you since your time at the Officer’s Academy, he often heard rumors from his family’s soldiers about a young falcon knight whose description matched yours. You had built quite a name for yourself; traveling throughout the kingdom, healing the injured, and swiftly taking out every foe you faced. If anything you had become somewhat of a legend among the common folk.

Truth be told, Sylvain had a very hard time getting you out of his head. There were times that he would look at certain objects, or eat certain foods and be reminded of you. It made him realize just how much he actually missed you.

He missed the way you would genuinely laugh at his jokes, or how you would teasingly scold him for not taking his training seriously. He especially missed the soft smiles that would warm his heart.

There were parts of him that wished he had turned back and apologized. He knew he messed up that night at the tower, but he couldn’t take back the hateful words he said. Because of his outburst, he probably lost the only true love he had ever experienced. At least now he knew you were okay, thriving even, and that was enough for him.

A few weeks ago, Sylvain was met with several letters from his classmates, asking him to return to Garegg Mach. It seemed that even though Byleth and Dimitri were gone, his friends were still bent on keeping the promise you all made five years ago. Now he was back at Garegg Mach, once again fighting side by side with his all of classmates.

Well, almost all of them. So far, you were nowhere to be seen. If he was going to be honest, Sylvain was a little disappointed; He was hoping he would finally get to see you at this reunion. On the way to Garegg Mach, he thought of all the ways that he could apologize. None of them seemed like they would be enough to get him back in your good graces, but now it seemed he wouldn’t even get the chance to try.

Distracted by thoughts of you and the onslaught of thieves coming his way, he failed to notice an assassin slipping through the trees behind him. Before he could register the blade coming towards his back he heard voice from up above.

“DUCK!”

Without any question, he dodged just in time as a javelin sailed over his head and impaled the assassin close behind. He looked up to see who had saved him, and widened his eyes at the person above.

After five long years, there you were. The sight of you, alone against the sky as you sat on your pegasus left Sylvain breathless.

As you landed next to him to retrieve your weapon, he couldn’t help but gape at your sudden appearance. He was speechless. Before he could even speak a coherent word, you cut in.

“We can exchange our greetings later, right now focus on the enemy ahead. I’ll do my best to cover you.”

He didn’t expect you to speak first, so all he could do was watch in awe as you reared your pegasus and took off into the sky. But you were right. Before he could say his piece, there was a battle to be won.

After a long battle, the group took shelter in the monastery to discuss future plans to quell the war. When the war meeting was finished, everyone broke off to explore the monastery. You had quietly slipped out before everyone else, but Sylvain knew exactly where to find you.

As he neared the old Goddess Tower, he saw your silhouette leaning against the railing as you stared out toward the setting sun. He began to walk slower, quieter, as the reality of the situation set in.

The closer he got to the tower, the more he began to panic. Now that you were here, what was he supposed to say?

Sylvain knew that he had to make things right, so he took a deep breath and began walking towards you. You noticed his presence and locked eyes with the red haired man, but made no move to change your position.

When Sylvain reached you, he awkwardly took his place next to you. Unsure of what to say, the two of you stood there quietly watching the sky turn a bright orange as the sun set over the horizon.

Sylvain collected his thoughts and opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“You’re here to apologize aren’t you?”

Sylvain gaped at your sudden confrontation. He guessed that his actions were obvious, from his attitude and his serious silence, but he didn’t think you would comment on it.

“I- uh, um, yes. But I also wanted to thank you.” Sylvain mentally slapped himself for the lame reply, “You really saved me back there, so… thanks”

Sylvain could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as he felt your gaze finally fall upon him. He hated how after all this time, you could still easily sway his feelings. He took another deep breath.

“But yes, I wanted to apologize to you for... well, everything.” He turned his body towards you as he kept his eyes locked with yours, “I thought I would get over you, like I did with every other girl who was after my crest, but no matter what I did I would always find you roaming in the corners of my mind.”

“And hearing all of the stories about you from our soldiers just reminded me of all reasons why I let you into my life in the first place. You really are something special... and it was stupid of me to shut you out like that. I know the way I treated you wasn’t right, but I want to make things right with you.You don’t have to forgive me right now, or ever, but I at least want you to know I regret every moment I spent not by your side.”

Sylvain’s face softened as he looked into your concerned eyes. He knew that you were skeptical, but he just had to let you know how he truly felt.

“I just... don’t want to be without you anymore,” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and gently placed a hand on your cheek.

“I love you, (y/n).”

As he spoke, you watched his face closely for some sign of insincerity, and sighed when you could not find any. You softly placed your hand on top of the one that caressed your cheek. You wanted so much to lean into his warm touch, but instead you gently pulled his hand down and took it into your smaller ones.

Part of you was relieved that he meant every word, but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy with his apology. It’s not that you didn’t return Sylvain’s feelings— far from it in fact — but it was because of this heartbreak, that you were finally able to take your life into your own hands.

You kept your eyes focused on the hand you were holding as you began to speak softly.

“Sylvain, I appreciate your apology, but... it isn’t necessary,” His eyes widened as you began to explain yourself, “I’m glad that even after all these years you still feel the same, but I can’t let you in that easily.”

When you glanced up at his face, you expected to find sadness in his eyes. Instead all you could see was understanding. Seeing his reaction you continued your reply with more confidence.

“I’ve spent the last five years helping people in ways I could only dream about when I was younger. And there’s still so much more that needs to be done-- so much more that I need to do.”

You took a deep breath, released his hand, and stood up straight to face him before continuing.

“I want to continue cutting my own path in life, so for now... can we put feelings aside and just be friends?”

Sylvain let out a sigh of relief as you finished. He had mentally prepared himself for an earful, for crying and yelling, but he never expected you to say something like that. Then again he had always admired how you weren’t afraid to stand for the things you believed in -- it was one of the things that made him fall for you-- and he understood your need to forge your own future. Afterall, he was the same way.

Sylvain was just happy that you were willing to meet him halfway and repair your relationship. For the first time in five years, a genuine smile that found its way on his face as he replied.

“(y/n) (l/n), it would be my pleasure to ‘just be friends’.” He said as he bowed dramatically and winked. You rolled your eyes at his actions, but couldn’t fight the smile that crawled up your cheeks as his playful attitude returned.

With the tensions released, the two of you spent the rest of the evening catching up and telling stories. You realized how late it had gotten, and decided to retire for the night.

Sylvain quietly bid you good night and you made your way back to the dorms. As he watched your figure get smaller and smaller, Sylvain vowed that he would work hard to one day earn the right to be beside you for the rest for your lives.

When you were out of sight, Sylvain turned his head up at the the sky above him. That night, the stars seemed to shine brighter than usual.

According to legend, if someone makes a vow at the Goddess Tower, the Goddess herself will surely grant this wish.

Several years later, Sylvain found himself tearing up as he happily placed a golden band on your finger, fulfilling his vow all according to legend.

#sorry if this sounds rushed #im really pressed for time but i didnt want to leave people hanging #fe16 #fe3h #fe16 imagine #fe3h imagines #fire emblem three houses #sylvain jose gautier #fe sylvain #sylvain #sylvain gautier #sylvain fe #fe3h sylvain #sylvain x reader

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swindlersstole · 5 years ago

Note

8 please!

you didn’t specify for who but I know what we’re about

things to address before this starts!

the constellations are references to other games (specifically kingdom hearts, ghost trick, and rhythm thief in that order

I’m reading months in Erdrea as being based on birth month flowers (bc World Tree, we have a plant theme you see).

Eleven/Nova’s birthday is July 29th (dq11′s initial release date), making him a Leo. Larkspur is one of the two flowers for July, and represents positivity and dignity

Erik doesn’t have a date yet, but I wrote him in as an Aquarius born in Carnation (January); carnations represent admiration and love

listen to this while you read it helps

8. In a rowboat

“What’s that one?”

Erik squinted his eyes, following Nova’s finger as best he could. “Thaaat would beee… oh, that! That’s the Key of Worlds.”

“It’s a key?” Nova tilted his head, to better look at the shape in the sky; his head ended up against Erik’s shoulder, and it was nice now, Erik thought, that neither of them were too wrapped up in their own pining to panic about the contact. “Erik, that’s a sword.”

“It’s both.” Erik laughed. “The way the story goes, young people from all over were given keys to fight back darkness. They could unlock any door, and the hearts of men. But there was one key that could open up whole worlds themselves, and eventually a great war happened with each side trying to take the key for themselves. Didn’t end well for anybody. Eventually the key was hidden away, and the key wielders faded into obscurity.”

From the corner of his eye, Erik saw Nova smile before nudging him in the shoulder. “I never took you as a fantasy type.”

Erik grinned back. “Doesn’t hurt to have some stories that aren’t illegal.”

He bumped Nova’s shoulder back, a bit more rough than he’d intended, and the gondola rocked in the still waters. Gentle as it was, neither of them dared to move until it stopped.

“Sheesh,” Erik leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair, following some nervous laughter. “How many times that make it now?”

“I think that was the fifth.” Nova sighed, but he was laughing right along with him. “Leave it to us to forget we’re on a boat.”

“That never stopped us before.”

“Before we were on the Stallion. We couldn’t rock that if we tried.”

“Details.”

Erik settled back down against the parecio, and Nova draped the blanket they’d been sharing over his shoulders again. Truth be told, a surprise date to Gondolia hadn’t been on Erik’s mind when he’d returned to visit--let alone giving Nova an astronomy lesson--but he had learned to take such requests from Nova with gusto. His selflessness didn’t seem to stem from the Luminary status, or the prince position, and was instead just a long standing problem Nova had of being a people pleaser; when he showed even the slightest inclination of selfishness, Erik didn’t waste any time latching on to it.

And, well. Not that Erik would ever say it out loud, but it was nice to be the object of those selfish desires.

“Every birthday has a constellation to it, doesn’t it?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Nova’s question drew Erik out of his musings. “There’s a whole map and science to it, but long and short of it, there are sectors a few constellations pass through based on how the world rotates. Some are only visible at certain times of the year, so people will sometimes look to those constellations for influence and guidance.”

He grumbled, mostly at himself. “Eh… not exactly the best explanation I could give for that.”

“No, no, it was fine. I think I follow.” Under the blanket, Nova slipped his hand into Erik’s, lacing their fingers together. “I was just curious if you knew what mine was.”

“Oh--sure. That’s easy.” Erik looked back to the sky. Sure, they had more than certainly reached the point where neither was too scared to hold a hand, but he wasn’t going to find the stars he was gazing for, if he was too busy gazing at the one by his side.

“Let’s see… you’re Larkspur 29th--” Not that Erik needed a reminder for that one. He never forgot a birthday that mattered to him. “--so that gives you the Phantom Cat.”

“You made that one up.”

“No, I know, it’s a dumb name, right? But he has a good story behind him.” Erik pointed westward. “This time of year you can usually see his tail, but it might be too far gone for Gondolia now.”

Nova leaned over where Erik pointed and squinted, and Erik did his best not to think about how sweet Nova looked in such deep concentration. “Hm… no, you’re right, I can’t see a thing.”

“Figures. If we were out near Lonalulu, we might have better luck.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Nova said, and it made Erik immensely proud to know that he was already thinking of a next time. “But, you said there was a story?”

“Yeah. So this man--he died, and then came back as a ghost. But he didn’t keep any of his memories, so he had no idea who he was. He followed a woman that had seen him be killed all around their kingdom to find answers, and saved her life from pursuers the whole night. In the end, he found out he wasn’t the man that died--he was the man’s cat. And he was given the chance to turn back time, and make it so everyone that had been hurt to that point got a new start.”

Nova’s hand in his twitched slightly.

“...What did he do?” He spoke softly now, caught up in the story.

“The cat took the chance. He went back ten years, and was able to get everyone a happy ending.”

Erik squeezed Nova’s hand. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had suddenly gotten into him. “Hey. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Nova raised his free hand, and brushed away at his bangs awkwardly. “Similarities are just striking, is all.”

There would always be things Nova couldn’t explain about the Lost Lands. Erik knew that, and he knew it was a miracle that Nova had been able to explain what he could to him at all. With all the memory bleeds and faintest notions of deja vu, there would always be a level of detachment between him and what Nova saw and felt. And it was no one’s fault, of course. But it was frustrating all the same to Erik that there was only so much he could do.

Nova seemed to pick up on this--he always had a way of reading Erik like a book, and he leaned back on his shoulder, content to stay there this time. “Really, Erik, I’m alright. Keep talking.”

“Keep talking?” Erik repeated. “About what?”

“Other constellations.” Nova looked up at him through long lashes. “You’re handsome when you know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Erik lifted up his hand, still holding Nova’s, and pressed a kiss to the back of Nova’s hand. He smirked against the skin. “So, I’m handsome all the time, then.”

“I mean, I’m not the one that said it,” Nova shrugged, “but yes.”

“Flirt.” But it was another slip of greed out of Nova, and another reminder that Erik really was wanted that much. It was a great boost to the ego, and a pool of warmth in his chest. “Alright, alright. Which one now?”

“Mmm… what about yours?” Nova asked. “The constellation you were born under. Do you know that one?”

“Sure. Should be able to spot her now, too.” Erik turned back to the night sky once more, looking up and around the crescent moon. “From where we are, she should be… ah.” He pointed southward of the moon. “See that line of stars right there? That’s the violin of the Moon Princess.”

“Oh!” He felt Nova sit a little bit straighter against him; it never got any less cute to see the Luminary act like an excited kid. “Yeah, I see it. Is she the Moon Princess because she’s always by the moon?”

“Got it in one. I’m very proud.” Erik reached over to pat Nova on the head without looking; he missed somewhat, patting Nova on the forehead, and laughed when his arm was batted away. “She’s never too far away from the moon when she’s in view. It ties into her story.”

“What’s her story?”

“Are you sure you wanna know? It’s a little sad.”

“It can’t be anymore sad than how I just made things.” Nova spoke very frankly, an air of sarcasm Erik had come to know as just a Cobblestone standard, and that he wasn’t going to get a word in edgewise.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one. It’s bittersweet, more than anything--I did always like it, though.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Don’t I know it.” Erik leaned back against the sofa, and closed his eyes as he recounted the story. “It starts out with a thief--”

“The best stories always do.” Nova cut in, and Erik could hear the smile in his voice so clearly it made him smile too.

“Shut up.” There was another gentle push, but careful not to disturb the gondola. “The thief’s missing father was an art forger, and the thief made it his mission to steal the forgeries, and replace them with the real paintings. One night after a theft, he met an orphan girl. She’d been left on a church doorstep as a baby with only a violin and a song, and she was certain that the song would lead her to her mother.”

Erik waved his free hand nonchalantly, caught between telling this story in full and leaving some mystery behind for Nova. Nova liked mysteries. “I can’t go into all the details, it’s a novel in its own right. But the girl turned out to be the Moon Kingdom’s missing princess, and the thief helped reunite her with her mother, and saved the kingdom in the process.”

His hand clenched into a fist, dramatically, before he let it fall back to his lap. “But, the bittersweet part. The thief and the princess fell in love, but the thief still hadn’t found his father, and he left the Moon Kingdom not long after the princess returned home to keep searching. But, he said he’d always be listening when she played, so she played her song on her violin from then on, as a way to guide the thief back to the moon and to her one day.”

Erik sat up a little straighter, and pointed ahead, past the Moon Princess. “The thief is a constellation, too--Crimson Caper, I think the name is? I’ve heard it varies--and he shows up right around there, but he rotates on a different sector. He and the Princess only line up a few times throughout the year. So, sure, it’s still sad, but…”

He shrugged. “I dunno. It was always comforting to think that the song works, in a way. No matter how far the thief is from the Princess, he always makes it back. It… it’s nice.”

Nice, Erik thinks, and fitting. Maybe horoscopes had a grain of truth to them after all.

Beside him, Nova shifted. Erik felt his head lift up from his shoulder. Must have been a crick in his neck, probably. “Ah, sorry--did I ramble on that one, or…”

The words died on his lips when he looked at Nova--Nova, who normally looked so unshaken, so reserved, was staring at him with wide, almost hesitant eyes, and lips that wavered like he was trying to speak but couldn’t find what to say. He got this look on occasion, Erik had noted long ago, this face that you could look at and just tell there was so much going on than Nova wanted to admit.

But from the way Nova’s hands clenched at his like a lifeline, it wasn’t very difficult to determine what was going through his mind.

“Erik…” He said his name so softly, so sweetly, if Erik hadn’t known better he would have thought he’d imagined it. “Can I… can I be greedy? Just for a moment?”

Nova sounded like he spoke out of line. Like Erik would tell him ‘no’. Like his being greedy wasn’t something Erik so desperately wanted of Nova, for them and for himself.

“You don’t have to ask twice.” Erik said, and the sensation of Nova’s hand sliding into his hair was all too perfect.

It was far from the first time they had kissed--if Erik was going to brag, he’d say that for two people that never had before one another, they had gotten pretty good at it by this point. As if they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt heavier now, though; the story of the Moon Princess must have resonated with him, because Nova’s lips moved against his own like a desperate prayer, his body pressing against Erik as much as he could for as long as he could. And Erik knew full well why.

When they returned to Dundrasil, in a few days time, he would be leaving with Mia again. Erik had promised her so much, and he knew that Nova knew that, and he knew that Nova would never stand in the way of that, but Erik also knew himself. If Nova asked him to stay, let that one selfish desire escape his lips, Erik would do it.

And how could he not? How could he find it in himself to deny Nova, someone who never asked and only gave? Someone who did not ask for the impossible tasks given to him, but performed them anyway, so no one else had to? Someone who stood by his side through thick and thin and all that glittered, whose one selfish choice was Erik above all else? This man, this treasure, this star, this Erik didn’t know what to call him anymore, this gift of a person he couldn’t help but lo--

A creak on the gondola tore them apart with a jump. Erik had one arm propped against the canal wall, while the other, now fisted in Nova’s shirt, pushed him away. Nova was still hovering over him as much as the space would allow, face flushed and lips bruised, but his eyes were wide with a sudden panic. Erik guessed that he didn’t look much different.

“...So,” Erik said, to break the tension, “this makes it six times.”

“Almighty above,” Nova dropped his head with a groan, but Erik saw his shoulders shaking in the darkness. “If I start laughing and you fall in, I’m not fishing you out.”

“Is this all some elaborate scheme to get a Kiss of Life on me?”

“I don’t need an elaborate scheme for that.” Nova wrapped his hand around Erik’s wrist. “Just--hold still a minute, alright? I’ll pull you back.”

It did definitely take a minute--a gondola on the verge of tipping over didn’t give much leeway for sudden movements, but Nova slowly but surely started edging his way to the front of the passenger’s cabin. His hold on Erik never loosened, but it slipped from this wrist to his hand, and soon enough, with one sure-fire tug, Nova pulled him away from the canal, and safely into his arms.

Both of them sighed in relief.

“Are you alright, Erik?”

“Well, I’m not soaking wet, so I’d say I’m just peachy.” Erik fell back from Nova with a snicker. “Definitely one way to sweep me off my feet.”

Nova laughed with him, but it was much more nervous than it should have been. “I’m really sorry, about that. I should have--”

“Oh, don’t you even.” Erik was on him again in a second, clamping a hand over Nova’s mouth. “That’s not something you gotta even think about apologizing for. If you try to apologize for something I would kill for you to do more often, I--” He grasped at words for a moment, but dropped the attempt rather quickly. “--I dunno, I’ll do something, I--”

Nova’s hands came back to his wrist, gently this time, and pulled Erik’s hands away from his mouth.

“I was going to say,” and here, Nova kept his eyes trained on Erik’s hand rather than on his, his cheeks bright red in the moonlight, “I should have waited until we were on land to do that.”

“--Oh.” And that was about all Erik could muster before his own face began to burn.

Nova laughed again--shyer this time, much more boyish and free, and Erik felt his heart flutter in his chest. What a power he had over him, and was only barely aware of. How did Erik get so lucky, he wondered?

“...well,” Erik cleared his throat, and ran his free hand along his neck, “the night’s still young, you know. Should we, ah… you want to head back on shore now?”

He glanced back; Nova’s eyes lit up brighter than the stars above them, his smile warmer than the sun, and his kissed Erik’s knuckles sweetly. “You’d be insulted if I didn’t.”

Seriously. What had Erik done to deserve this life. “Yeah,” he choked out, “so get to steering us back.”

It was with great reluctance--and Erik knew what reluctance from Nova felt like, and it only made him all the more prideful--that Nova let go of his hand, and stood to take the oar. While Erik was more the seafarer between the two of them, the make of gondolas were far different from what he was used to; Nova had only learned by necessity, way back when, but didn’t seem bothered at all with the role of ferryman. It gave Erik time to lay back in the boat, and collect his thoughts.

The night sky still loomed overhead, and every star he could name and all the ones he couldn’t still sparkled as they passed them by. But Erik still looked back to the star he’d found on the earth, like a moth to a flame. And it was the heat of the moment before that had sent his thoughts spiraling, but in this moment of clarity, he could really admit it--he truly would follow Nova anywhere, if the other simply wanted it of him.

“Nova?”

“Hm?”

“You know I would stay.” If Erik didn’t say it now, Nova might not ever believe it himself. “If you asked me to, I mean. I’d stay no matter what.”

For a moment, the oar stilled. An unbearable second passed, and Erik thought he’d gone too far, but he heard Nova chuckle, and the gondola began to move again.

“I know.” Nova said. “Believe me, I know. And… I’m going to ask. One day.”

The implications of that one sentence made Erik’s heart jump in his chest; it was only the lull of water underneath the gondola that reminded him not to jump up himself. “One day?”

“One day,” he repeated, “when I can be selfish enough to ask. But for now… it’s okay.”

“Is it, really?” Erik asked. “You have problems being honest with what you want a lot.”

“You’ve always come back to me before.” While he couldn’t see Nova’s face, he spoke with a gentle assuredness that Erik couldn’t bring himself to doubt. “And I know what it means to have your faith. The least I can do is give you mine.”

He glanced over at Erik over his shoulder. Nova still looked bashful, but there was something in his smile that finally put Erik at ease. “I’ll just miss you everyday until you get back.”

“Aaaaagh.” Erik rolled over on his side, covering his face dramatically. “That was way too earnest, and you’re not kissing me nearly enough to kill me like that.”

Nova laughed like the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

#luminerik #hey this turned out 8 pages long and i'm sorry for that #also thats a lie i'm not sorry for that #nedryn-laughs #panda does a write

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girlbabyvelez · 6 years ago

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Now or Never // Christopher Velez

summary: chris was your best friend and he needed to finally tell you the truth

word count: 1,338

warnings: i fucking cried okay? okay super sad so be careful bc my heart is no longer whole.

Christopher doesn't remember when he fell in love with you. He knew it was sometime in your many years of friendship that he started to fall in love with your quirks like how you spat out random facts you learned or how you always bite your lip when you were nervous and how you were always the perfect complement to himself. But he'll always remember how much he loved you and how he always imagined it would be him waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Summer nights to them seemed to be full of possibilities. You both were young and wild, the unbeatable duo as everyone called them, the best friends that seemed to rule the world. Tonight was another typical Friday night that he expected to be full of adventures. He leaned against his car when he saw you step out of your house, wearing the red dress that complimented your skin and eyes. You were the picture of beautiful to him and he wouldn't be able to get enough. He would just take a mental picture and always treasure it in his heart until the day he died.

"Hey dork," You greeted as the both of you hopped in the car, ready to get to the party.

"Will, you ever stop calling me that?" He groaned as he sped down the streets, taking a couple of glances at you. That night he thought you looked particularly stunning, you let your hair down instead of putting it in your normal ponytail, you seemed brighter and happier than normal, which filled him with joy because he always wanted you to be the happiest girl in the world. He would do anything to make sure you were happy.

"No, it's not my fault you were saying things like ‘la vida me cambio la vida’," You laughed as you responded, leaning back in your seat as you focused on the passing buildings around you. You loved these types of nights with your best friend where you could just let loose and not worry because your best friend was by your side. Soon you had arrived at the party and let the night begin.

The night had gotten crazier than Chris had expected. Somehow he lost track of you and he found you crying by the pool, completely wasted out of your mind. He felt his heart drop at the sight, who would hurt his best friend? But he put that aside, taking you to his house. He remembered how you would groan as he carried you up the stairs and laid you on the bed, taking your heels off before covering you with a blanket, he was going to sleep on the uncomfortable couch, because he would do anything for you.

"What happened last night?" He could hear you whisper when you awoke. He could feel his heart pick up at your words. He turned his computer chair to face his bed. He could see you sit up on his bed, messy hair standing in all directions, tired eyes looking back at him with questioning eyes.

"You got wasted. Are you okay?" He answered before asking, handing you a bottle of water and some aspirin. You groaned as you threw yourself back on the bed, normally you never get drunk but the events of last night had hurt you so much that you thought alcohol was your only cure. Of course, now you regret that decision but here he was to make sure you were okay.

"Yeah of course. So dork, are you going to make me breakfast?" You teasingly asked, scooting over on the bed to make room for him. He rolled his eyes, accepting your offer and crawling in under the blanket. As if it was instinct you laid on his chest, tracing over his shirt and you guys began to melt into each other’s embrace.

"No, you can get up and help me make it." He whispers, not wanting to let go of this moment. He loved these moments with you, entwined with you as you both gently talked, and sitting in silence for a few moments, just drinking in the moment, enjoying each other's presence. It was like they were in their little world, with each other and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You stood at the end of the aisle, the dress was simple, hugging your upper body and flowing below your waist. Seeing you standing there took his breath away. You looked like a goddess standing there and he just wishes he could scoop you up in his arms and keep you forever as his love. Your eyes were bright with contentment. God how he wished he took the risk years ago and told you that he loved you so much.

He watched with longing eyes as you stepped down the aisle, he held onto every moment, the way you took the steps with that wide smile he adored, and the way you held tightly onto the bouquet and his heart was breaking because you had that tight of a hold on his heart. All of his emotions were turned up to 11, he couldn't witness you marry someone else, but he could see just how happy you were. It looked as if you had the stars and the sun in your eyes.

You both laid on the roof of your apartment building, looking up at the radiating stars. He thought the sky was beautiful, but he couldn't focus on them. His thoughts kept running over to you. You looked so amazed by the stars, he knew that you thought the stars represented every human, all unique and radiating with beauty in their own ways. He loved that about you, he admired you and your ideas.

"Isn't it funny how a star becomes its own destruction? I mean and it destroys everything near them and then has the power to become something else, it could swallow something whole. Just take a part of another like that is so amazing." You whispered. He knew what you meant. He could never tell you how he much loved you. He could never explain to you how he loved your obsession with the stars, or how you would scrunch your nose every time you were frustrated, he couldn't explain how you were so god damn beautiful in so many ways and that he was falling deeply in love with you. It would destroy him and his life with you. He never wanted to lose you. There you were swallowing his heart and soul because he could never lose you, he wanted you forever.

"If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

It was now or never. He needed to admit his truth or be silenced forever. And that's how he found himself standing in the church, surrounded by friends and strangers, staring at you, the love of his life.

"Y/N, I can't let you marry him. I have known you my entire life, I have seen you at your lowest and I have seen you become the amazing person you are today. But I have to tell you, here in front of the many people we know, that I can't let you marry him. I love you, no scratch that, I am so deeply in love with you Y/N. When we were kids you told me you wanted a man that would give you the world, I am here to promise you that and much more. I love you so much, I love the way you snort when you laugh, I love how you scrunch your nose when you're mad and I find it adorable, I love how you know everything and then tell me those random facts. Y/N, I love you." He admitted to you. It felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, the truth was out there now. And he prayed for you to love him back.

PART TWO

Masterlist

#cnco imagine #christopher velez imagine #christopher velez #richard camacho #erick brian colon #zabdiel de jesus #joel pimentel

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dalissy · 6 years ago

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Born to blossom : an unfinished KaiAo draft

Apparently I am a pro at beginning KaiAo fanfics and never finish them. Oh well. Have this trash anyway. I know I should really stop writing in English but the French DCMK fandom is a nightmare, so... nah.

Based on a prompt in which Aoko gets rejected by Kaito (bc he wants to end it with Pandora and Kid before accepting her feelings) and *eventually* falls in love with Kid instead.

Born to blossom

Tears cold as ice rolled down her cheeks, painfully irrigated by her fierce hot blood. Wind swirled around her, infiltrating her poorly covered skin and rolling her in a transparent blanket at the same time. The people passing near by, the eternal city's lights and sounds were assaulting her eyes and ears. She ignored it all.

I'm sorry, Aoko. But...

"Don't say it", she begged, bitting her lip as the memory began appearing again in her confused brain. "Please, don't say it."

I can't answer...

Her knees against her chest, like a wall against the entire world. The fabric of her skirt in her clenched fist, tighting it up like it was about to be torn apart.

...To your feelings.

An ugly cry came out of her throat.

It was not fair. But it was not like it had ever been in the first place.

In front of the big clock, her body as tiny as an ant compared to it, Aoko was weeping. She did not want to cry. Did it really deserve her tears? It wouldn't change anything anyway, no matter how many of them were falling to the cold ground, in this lonely night.

She had always been afraid to be alone, especially in the dark -even though this last part was more a childish fear than rationnal issue. But something was scarier than these.

She could not remember how she got here. She could only remember Kaito's rejection and sorrowful expression, on the path home.

Did she run away, naturally followed the way to come back to the place they met as if it would rewind time? Was she so desperate not to see him anymore, she refused to go home? She could not tell.

She merely had her school uniform on her. No bag. No phone. No even a single yen.

Even if she wanted, she could not go home. Her father would worry sick... if only he knew.

"Ah, who am I kidding?" She bitterly laughed, desperatly trying to wipe her non-stopping tears. "Tonight's Kid's heist... Dad's too busy to worry... about m...me..."

She wanted to laugh. It only hurt her already painful heart more. She buried her face into her knees.

Disappear. Disappear. She only wanted to disappear from this world where she failed her best friend, trying to confess childish feelings before their paths would definitely separate after their last year of high school, where her parents were stolen from her, one by a job where everyone made fun of him despite his restless efforts, another by unfair destiny. Where the man she hated the most in the universe was loved by the entire population.

"Vanish", she wished to herself as she tapped upon her cheeks. "Vanish! Nobody will miss you, anyway...!"

"I'd gladly grant this wish, Miss; but a true magician cannot make such a sad will come true."

Her heart jumped, her eyes widened as this one last man, this one whom she thought the less to be here at such a moment, was looking down at her with a smirk.

"Kid!..."

She gasped, unable to even make an intelligible answer at first. On the other hand, he leaned down to her in his usual perfect white suit, presenting her a colourful handkerchief close to her face.

"Tears do not match your face."

He was about to wipe out her drenched cheeks, when she instantely slapped his hand and jumped upon her two legs.

"Don't touch me! EVERYONE! HE'S HERE!" she screamed. "THE REAL KID'S HERE!"

She expected the near crowd to run to her, making her able to find a phone and call the police ; but her yell met nothing but silence and emptiness.

"...Eh?"

No one. There was no one anymore. The street was desertic. The people. The lights. The sounds.

Everything had disappeared. Only the faint noise of the wind remained.

"...How..."

"You wanted to disappear from this world." Kid calmly smiled. "But I couldn't answer to your wish; and when confronted to a problem, turn it upside down..."

"...You made the world disappear?"

If she could see his eyes underneath his hat and monocle, she would undeniably see a malicious glimmering in them while he nodded.

"That's not--"

"Possible? Nothing's impossible to me. I thought you'd come to notice it, being the daughter's inspector..."

She frowned. Would he be toying with her for no reason?

"What do you want? You should be at your heist. If this is about the time we got trapped together... I don't really consider I own you anything."

"Even though I saved you? Twice?"

The images of him grasping her so she wouldn't get impaled by the trap's 'punishment', and sweating while she realized he got projected on the broken glass to protect her, flashed through her mind. She was, of course, grateful for that. But they'd never had gotten into such a situation if he never stole in the first place.

"I did not ask you to do so." She protested, her hands firmly on her hips despite tears still running down her face.

A slight silence infiltrated the air. Aoko wished she could ignore him, escape him, go home. But if she did, he would see how trembling her whole body was -and it was a sign of weakness she did not want to show to this man.

He eventually laughed, his lips twisting in a way... so familiar.

"Is this because your phone recorded when I said I had to strip you down to exchange our clothes?"

Her eyes opened widely. No, he could not!... Her father took immediatly her phone afterward as a proof object, and he promised they would go over that--

"You are horrible! Pervert!"

"It was a necessary sacrifice I was willing to make", he smirked very proudly. "And you are right, you don't own me anything. I, myself, have no regrets about acting as I did."

She frowned. Which part of it was a 'sacrifice'? Was it a way to say he didn't enjoy the view?

"You're still a jerk."

She did not say it with as much conviction as she wished she did.

"How cold-hearted, Miss."

"Whatever! Just answer me! What are you here for?! What are your reasons?!"

"Is there to be a reason?"

"Uh?..."

He dreamly glanced at the shining stars upon them, his hands in his pockets.

"I am the only man left in your life, after all. You lost your best friend -or at least you think so- with whom you shared friendship and romantic love. You lost your father -because of me, I won't lie- with whom you shared family love. There's only me left. The man you hate the most passionnatly."

She did not know what to answer. Her wrath lightly faded away. She did not even hate him that much. She did not like him, either. He just was... an anomally she wished could be gone of her life.

"...That doesn't make any sense."

A frank laugh got out of his throat again. "Feelings aren't supposed to always make sense. I think magic works that way, too. The heart has reasons which reason knows nothing of... was it?"

If only she could read into her own heart as much as he did. It was... frustrating. How could he know all of that about her, anyway? They barely talked for the few times they met. Then how come he knew exactly what was wrong?

"I should not love Kaito. I know I shouldn't" she admitted. "For my own sake. I mean, I am an ugly, flat-chested girl... just as he says. I am no match to anyone. I knew he'd reject me. I know he would. And yet... I still tried... And I... I..."

She felt liquid pearls form in her eyes again, her throat twitching at the truth she was about to tell. As useful as trying to extinguish an eternal fire.

"I ruined everything! I lost everything! Now, he will go away... And we'll lose contact, because it'd be too awkward to talk afterward... and... a-and... I'll regret it all my damn life..."

Her nails gripped her filthy uniform as she tried to not scream -she did not care about damaging it anymore. Anytime soon, it would end up in the attic, along with her high-school life memories... and the one she made with Kaito's.

It hurt. Hurt. Hurt. She had lost many friends between middle and high school -distance knew how to torn apart many friendships. But she never thought it would happen with Kaito. It wasn't even imaginable.

After they turn into adult... she thought it would change nothing. They'd still be the goofies they always have been. Forever and ever.

But everything changed, because of her stupid actions. If only the clock they were under could rewind time just a little, little earlier...

She suddenly felt something soft caressing her head. She lifted her eyes -only to see Kid patting her.

She was about to burst out in rage for a second, thinking he was mocking her -nevertheless, soon his pat became a sweet caress of his glove on her wet cheek, as soft as the feathers of a dove.

"You should not give so much credits on a man's thought, miss. Boys, exceptionnally in that age, often say things they do not mean."

"But you- you said it yourself! Now the only man left in my life is... you... Ah... ah. I always get the short end of the stick, it seems..."

"Who said it was a bad thing?"

Before she could even get a surprised expression on her face, his arms hold her tight. Tighter than she has been hugged for years. And again, so familiar...

She could feel his heartbeat, which was the only proof she had that this miraculous phantom thief was an actual human being and not a robot programmed to steal. His warmth, quickly spreading on her skin, somehow comforted her. The tears weren't heavily falling on the ground, now. She had a shoulder to cry upon.

"Nobody can see the beautiful rose you've bloomed into, can they?"

She did not answer. He simply raised his head, looked at her right in the eyes.

It was as if the blue shade of his irises could penetrate the darkness of anything the world could offer, even her own shadow. It felt like she could abandon herself to him without the slightest fear.

"But I can."

Her sapphire-alike eyes had the reflection of the full moon upon them, and the tears made them sparkled like legendary jewels. A sweet wind made her uniform and hair flutter along with his cape.

When his firm lips met hers on this strange night, she neither had the strenght or the desire to push him away anymore.

"OUCH! It huuurts!"

The big bump on Aoko's head was the proof of a troublesome wake up. How did she manage to hit the wall in her sleep?! She touched her forehead, a slight tear of pain stuck in her eye.

"I was in the middle of a dream here!"

She freezed. The white suit of Kid's appeared in her memory.

A dream. A dream.

It was nothing but a dream! She put a hand on her heart, sighting in pure relief.

"Oh, thank God!"

Everything made perfect sense, now. For the love of God, she did NOT kiss Kid in the most illogical way, she did not cry upon his shoulder: it was nothing but merely a trick made up by her unconscient!

"That was why he looked so much like..."

She suddenly remembered. Everything was not a creation of her mind. Yesterday... she...

She could see it so easily. Her and Kaito, on the way home. Her, with her confused words, her freezing body, trying to confess to this boy with whom she had shared most of the sweetest childhood that could ever be. Him, not understanding. Denying.

Rejecting.

I'm sorry, Aoko. I can't answer...

"...To your feelings."

The words died upon her trembling lips. Ah... so it did happened, didn't it? The memory of her running home, not even looking back at him, not even knowing if he tried to follow her, exploding in tears as soon as the door of her empty house was closed. Crying herself to sleep. Eventually falling into Morpheus' arms only because her mind could not take how desastrous and destroyed she felt.

Her unconscient just tried to comfort her. It appeared crystal clear to her now.

"Ah... I really am... pathetic."

#DCMK #Magic Kaito #Kaito Kuroba #Kaito Kid #aoko nakamori #fanfiction #kaiao #aokai #kiao

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tmae3114 · 8 years ago

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*kicks down a door* WHO WANTS A FIC???

So this is... a way overdue fic I started on last year (New Year’s joke a week after New Year’s go me) (but seriously it was months in the making it’s way overdue)

Anyway, so, @mismagireve, @hnybnny, this one’s for you guys bc it was your headcanon I just went I’ve gotta fic that and then took months to do it.

The Man In Green

Some things are constants. Not many things, certainly, but some. Things that, across universes, you will find in every culture in every species. Things that, no matter where or when in space and time you travel, you will always find.

Urban legends, though they are not always called such, are one of these. Tales told in hushed voices between the young in the dead of night, whispered across campfires by the older, passed along from mouth to mouth until nobody is quite sure where they came from in the first place.

Lore is no exception to the rule. If anything, with the saturation of the magic in the world, Lore has a richer history of such tales than most. Adventurers who bear claims of mysterious wingless dravir who appear only for a passing moment before vanishing, tales from farmers who swear up and down that they have seen horses that walk on two legs, warnings to travellers of odd young waifs who appear at the edges of paths in the forest, asking for help only for those who follow them to vanish forever... the tales of Lore are as varied as they are many.

And, as with any such tales, some are known to only specific areas, and others travel widely, changing in accordance to their locations.

And of these, none are as widespread as that as the Man In Green.

Be you hailing from or travelling through the kingdom of Greenguard, the mountains of Volkenraand, the forests of Tkaanie, the deserts of Kaer Sterra, even the vast Shapeless Empire, the people around you will have heard of the Man In Green. As far as such tales go, this one is a close to universal as it comes.

And, perhaps even more bizarrely than simply the spread, the tale does not change much from place to place.

Always, there is a man dressed in green who appears. Always, nobody has seen him before. Sometimes his arrival is to towns and villages, sometimes in the path of travellers on the routes between them. Always, he will approach someone who is present. Always, he will ask them if he can have a picture. If one agrees, he will appear happy and pleased, thank the one with whom he took the picture, and then leave. If one declines, he will appear disappointed – in some tales, sad – and leave without any further interactions.

There are variations to this tale, of course, but even these variations have constants. In some, he arrives appearing upset and brightens up when he sees the person he requests a picture with. In others, he approaches more than one member of a group. In yet others, he appears to look for someone among a group and seems disappointed, then leaving without asking for a picture.

As tales of his nature go, the Man In Green is rather benign. Never has there been a tale with his negative reactions going beyond sadness or disappointment. Despite what variations there are, every story about the Man In Green that there is seems to agree on one simple fact – he just wants a picture, nothing more.

There are many theories as to what precisely he is and even more about why he wants the pictures. From an otherworldly being seeking to build an army out of those whose pictures he takes, to a tricksy fae playing an elaborate joke, to a ghost wandering the land searching for his loved ones, almost every possibility that there could be has been suggested at some point or other.

Those who subscribe to the ghost theory have no idea just how close to the truth they are.

The box had been on the kitchen table when Warlic entered the room and he had promptly given it the wide berth that such a threat deserved.

He knew that he hadn’t been the one to leave it there, after all, which meant the only possible culprit was Cysero. And things that Cysero left lying around places were usually better off left alone if they were spontaneously combusting or exploding, as they had a tendency to do. Especially when they looked as innocuous as the box did. Appearances deceive.

It was on Cysero’s side of the yellow line anyways, so he had no reason to spare it any more thought.

Deciding not to spare things any more thought is generally a good and viable tactic where creations of his roommate are concerned, he discovered fairly early on. The ability to ignore utter chaos in the background of your life unless it directly affects you was a hard earned, hard trained skill, but one that came in useful quite frequently when living with the Mad, Magical Weaponsmith.

On this occasion, however, it turns out to be a double-edged sword.

He bites back several rather uncouth words as something crashes into the back of his legs, sending him stumbling and bracing a hand against the counter to stay upright. He whirls around to identify the cause and fixes a glare on the pair of laundry golems – who’s entry he must have tuned out - clearly in the middle of a fight on the table. They both freeze and then flee the scene together, whatever conflict led them there in the first place seemingly forgotten.

He redirects his gaze to the floor, looking for whatever hit him.

It’s the box from before, clearly knocked flying by the tussle. Because, of course, despite the yellow line being enchanted to keep the myriad of experiments and accidents (on both their ends, much as he hates to admit it) from crossing over, there was nothing to stop an object propelled by force alone.

It’s also lying lid down, cracked open with the contents scattered across the floor.

He sighs and then crouches down, with every intent to scoop the box's contents back into it, stick it back on the table and just go about his day. He turns the box over, moves to start and-

His intentions fizzle out when he realises that each of the small objects - bits of paper, it seems - are written on in a language that he doesn't even remotely recognise.

That means that it's either a language from a very secretive people, or it's very, very old.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he picks one of the things up to get a closer look. It feels more like card than paper and the light catches it in a slight way that gives away that it's glossy. Very odd paper, it seems.

But then, this paper is Cysero's, so he supposes he shouldn't be too surprised that it's odd.

He turns it over and his train of thought speculating what they could be grinds to a halt.

A photogaph?

A high quality photograph, at that. Somewhat faded, presumably with age, but high quality nonetheless. It's of Cysero and a young pink-haired woman that he doesn't recognise. She has a slight point to her ears, a gleam to her eye, and a giant wrench of unmistakeable design holstered across her back, all of which belie at least partial gnommish heritage.

He sets the photo down in the box and picks up another of the objects. Flipping it over reveals it to be another photograph, this one most likely older than the last.

They're all photographs, he realises. A snippet of an old tale dashes through the back of his mind and an idea starts to niggle, but he pushes it aside. No need to jump to conclusions, especially not with so little evidence.

The photograph currently in his hand is of Cysero and a young girl with teal hair and green eyes, clearly sitting in the branch of a tree in an orchard. She's grinning at the camera and has a green apple in her hand, identical to the ones born by the branches in the background.

A part of him chides him for going through what is so clearly a personal belonging, but the curious part of him just can’t help himself. He lets himself slip from crouching to sitting, his legs halfway tucked under him.

The next one is Cysero and an individual who looks to be some kind of elf. At least, he’s pretty sure that they’re an elf, though he can identify which type. There are a lot of elven species and for the life of him he can't remember which ones have green hair and blue-purple skin.

The fourth looks more recent than the others, showing his flatmates and another young woman, this one holding a frying pan who has firey red hair tied back in a pleat.

The fifth picture is much, much older and gives him such a shock that it feels like his heart has stopped. His fingers go loose and he very nearly drops the photograph.

It's Jaania, looking exactly as he remembers her, smiling brightly at the camera. Through the trees behind the two, there's a wall visible, and his heart pangs as he realises that this picture must have been taken the very same day that she first arrived in Swordhaven.

He sets that photograph down in the box with a shaking hand. The idea in the back of his head is starting to grow and become harder to shove back down. He debates with himself whether or not he should pick up the next photo.

The part of him that wants to not do so, that wants to just get up and walk away, loses.

He wishes it hadn't.

His hand shakes all the more and he closes his eyes. It does nothing to dispel the image of the photograph though, right there in his mind’s eye as though painted onto the back of his eyelids.

Alex.

Younger than he had ever known him, certainly. He’s not sure if he could even estimate an age for him but he’s probably early teens at most and still undeniable and recognisably Alex. Cysero is crouching down next to him, looking just the same as ever, grinning at the camera and making bunny ears behind the young boy's head. Behind them he can see the buildings of Lymcrest.

Without prompting, his mind layers fire over the image, roaring and burning and destroying and-

His eyes fly open and he drops the photo into the box with a slight gasp, snapping himself out of the unwanted images. He tucks his shaking hands against his stomach, closing his eyes again, and sits and just breathes for a few moments.

This is what he gets for prying, he supposes. Brought it on himself, didn’t he, really? He really shouldn’t go snooping through someone else’s belongings.

Magic tingles at his fingertips.

The idea is still nagging at the back of his mind. Curiosity prowls around him like the cat it always kills.

He opens his eyes again and flicks his fingers in a small, swift movement.

Every photo remaining on the floor flips over.

The photos all vary in age, that much is immediately visible. Most of the faces are unfamiliar but a few... a few he knows.

The idea isn’t in the back of his head anymore.

He sweeps up the photos and puts them all back in their box, fits the lid back on and picks the box up, standing in the same movement. He strides over to the table and sets it down.

On his side of the line.

He pulls out a chair and sits down, pulling a tome on ancient languages over from one of the many piles of books lying around the room, and settles in to wait. Cysero is rarely home, but he’s seen all the signs of him being home and sticking around for a while recently, and he’ll have to come to the kitchen either to eat or to pick up his box eventually.

And they really need to talk.

He startles to wakefulness when the book slips from his hand and thuds against the floor. He blinks blearily at the room around him, the lightning look almost like it’s dusk. Or possibly dawn. A midway time, at least.

Cysero is sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, the box just to his side and open, and number of photos spread in front of him. There’s a slightly curved twig sitting on the box’s lid. That’ll be how he got the box back across the line without crossing it himself, then.

“Ever the scholar’s mind, huh?” Cysero says. His head doesn’t move in the slightest but Warlic feels the sudden sensation of being looked at and knows he must have looked up under his hair.

“Wha-?” is his supremely intelligent reply.

Cysero just smiles, rather more cryptically than he usually does, and holds up one of the photos, the back with the writing facing Warlic.

“It was the writing that got you, wasn’t it?” he says, something almost sad in his tone “A language that you don’t recognise, let alone know. That’s what grabbed your attention,”

He feels himself snap from still half asleep to focused and aware in an instant.

“Ah, there you are,” Cysero says, very quietly as though he doesn’t mean to be heard.

Cysero then places the photo back down on the table, back facing up, and fans out several other photos in a line alongside it, all with their backs facing up. He sits back slightly with a small smile and seems to just... watch.

Warlic’s brain makes the connection it didn’t before in a millisecond.

“They’re dates,” he says.

“Mostly. Also names, and notes on differences and stuff,” Cysero says, sweeping the photos back up and dropping them all into the box again. “But that’s not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

“You’re the Man In Green,” Warlic says.

Cysero shrugs, picks up the twig and fiddles with it.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he says, sounding somewhere between flat and amused.

“I have so many questions,” Warlic says, his own voice incredibly flat because he isn’t entirely sure which emotion to go with.

Cysero’s mouth quirks in a way that indicates it was probably accompanied by an eyebrow. Warlic takes it for the silent invitation that it is.

“Why?” he starts with, summarising about five questions with one.

“Long story,” Cysero answers.

“How?” is his next one. There are structures older than he is in some of those – and he’s not entirely sure he’s talking about his human self when he says that.

“Long story,” Cysero says again, shrugging “Same long story, actually,”

“Will you tell me the long story?” Warlic asks.

“It’ll take a while,”

“I have time,”

“Wow,” Warlic says, when the long story is finished. “...wow,”

“Yeah,” Cysero says.

Warlic looks at the box of photographs.

“So those are all...?” “People I knew before the Reset, yeah,” Cysero says, looking at it almost wistfully. “Not all of them. There’s some I haven’t found yet and some refuse to take a picture with me, so it’s not ever going to be all of them, but...”

He shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” Warlic says.

Cysero shrugs again.

“For what?” he asks “There wasn’t anything you could have done to change it, and it’s a time long gone now anyways. I’ve... come to terms with it. Mostly,”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Actually...” Cysero says, breaking the silence and drawing out the word “...this does remind me of something,”

And then there’s a device in his hand that Warlic has never seen before but finds eerily familiar all the same.

“I never got your picture,” Cysero says, gesturing with the device. “Would you mind?”

Warlic smiles.

“I’d love to,” he says.

#dragonfable #cysero #warlic #dragonfable fanfic #THIS IS MY FIRST AE FANFIC IN LIKE HALF A YEAR AT LEAST #IT FELT GOOD TO GET BACK INTO THE SWING AND FORCE MYSELF TO FINISH IT #well. first COMPLETE fanfic anyway.#there are several other WIPs sitting in the background

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