#canon violence sort of

[whiskeyghoul]

8 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

First part, previous part, next part

A/N: Oh we are so back. This is mostly just angst, including the return of Tommy. Not a lot of Spencer in this one but the next one is going to be from his perspective. I really needed just a little angst in this fic again. I hope to be writing part 9 soon since I am in a bit of a writers block for this fanfic. But then again I really love writing for it too.

WC: 3,1 K

Tags: Spencer Reid, kidnapping, toxic exes, not proof read, we die like men, angst, hurt comfort but the comfort comes later.

Warnings: Kidnapping, mental instability, stalking, drugging

Your POV

You had watched Spencer leave into a room, a sigh leaving your lips as he closed the door behind him. Returning to the lab to finish your work felt a little tiresome. You wanted to spend more time with Spencer. Time that was so rudely cut short with a case. It was to be expected, but that didn't mean you had to like it. So, begrudgingly, you made your way to the lab. Getting in to wait for another process to finish, while polishing off the final remnants of your sandwich. Looking around the desk you saw the different reports that needed organizing. It was messy, and chaotic. Sometimes you would lose a document for a few moments before panicking and frantically looking through all the papers you had. That had to change. Now was as good a time as any.

While organizing your papers alphabetically your eyes landed on Spencer's purple scarf slung over the back of the desk chair. Running a hand over the fabric. It was soft, incredibly so even. A few worn edges added character, showing how well loved the scarf had been over the years. Picking it up you put it up to your nose, inhaling the warm scent that was so completely Spencer. It was a comforting scent. The smell of sweet coffee, cologne, and that signature scent of his apartment you had smelled while you were there. Feeling a little creepy about smelling his clothes you quickly put it down after folding it into a small bundle. Placing it on the edge of your desk to not forget.

Going back to your desk you noticed something was just a little off. You remember that the coffee cup from that morning was missing. It wasn’t unusual for garbage to be removed by cleaning staff. Just not usually during your shift. Oftentimes they would come in at the end of the day, when you would have put all dangerous substances away so no one would accidentally spill anything. There were measures in place to keep everyone safe. So why was your cup missing?

No. There was no need to be skeptical about something as simple as this. You must have thrown it away subconsciously before you left to get lunch. That was the logical explanation to this. So you shook off the uncomfortable feeling. There was no more reason to be suspicious of the small things. You were a bit scatterbrained at times, so it was only normal for you to forget something as small as this. Especially since your mind had been on Spencer for most of the day. Having made up had left you on cloud nine. When he had come in that morning it just made you realize how sweet he is, how forgiving of your flaws that you were so critical of. You never expected him to forgive you when you had hurt him quite badly. So it was like a dream that he did. And that had left you just a little preoccupied. Misplacing or misremembering something wasn’t that far of a stretch. 

The beep of the analyser got your attention. Walking over you hit the printer button, out came a print out of all the chemical components detected in the white powder. Giving it a quick once over to have a look at the majority of substance, it was always tainted along the way. Sometimes by the general use and existence of the material, sometimes by the less than careful collection of whatever they wanted to be analyzed. Taking a look it seemed to have been ecstasy, tainted by a few wayward chemicals. Nothing that would cause death but still, it could lead to a possible suspect. Moving back to the desk you looked around for the designated case folder.

It wasn’t there. You looked between the ones you just moved. Maybe you left it between the older files. Alphabetical order was the easiest after all. Managing to do it nearly on autopilot you might have just stacked it in the finished pile. So, you picked them up, thumbing through the different manilla folders starting with the same letter. Nope… must have looked over it. You tried again, making sure that you saw each and every single one. Still, it wasn’t there. Okay, maybe you did leave it in the pile on your desk. Your pulse quickened as you looked through the files but still, not the one you needed. The cleaners know not to take these. This is when you started to panic just a little. Moving between your desk and other tables in the lab, checking every file cabinet in there for the one you needed. Still there was no sign of it. Fuck.

Your phone rang. Snapping your head up you scrambled from a pile of files you had been rummaging through. Spencer’s caller ID lit up the screen. Picking up you quickly pinned the phone between your cheek and shoulder, “Hey, pretty boy, what’s up?” you asked, a little breathless, while going back to the papers to try and find what you were looking for. “Hey. We just got to the local station and I wanted to call. I felt bad about having to leave without really saying goodbye.” You noted how Spencer’s voice sounded a little hushed, how the background noise was muffled. “That’s okay. I am glad you called though. I like hearing your voice.” You said while continuously shuffling papers. “Are you busy? I could call back another time.” He asked, probably hearing the papers. “No, no!” You said before readjusting the phone to your other ear. “I just.. I lost the file I was working on. I must have misplaced it so I am a bit stressed looking for it.” Admitting to your fault. “Oh, I would have helped if I could.” Spencer said before you heard Morgan’s voice in the back, calling out to Spencer jokingly. “It’s okay, hearing your voice makes me feel a bit better.” You responded with a hint of shyness. It was easier to admit these things over the phone than to his face. 

“I really wanted to hear from you too.” Spencer said before a whispered, “Morgan! stop!” Which made you laugh. “How does the case look? Will it be a long one?” You asked, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping to hear him speak more. His voice eases any worry in your mind. Like a placating balm to smooth over any uncomfortability. “Actually, it seems like it might be easier than expected. Though I don’t want to jinx it and then have to be stuck here for the foreseeable future.” he answered. “Better knock on wood then.” You added to his sentence, really hoping he would be back sooner rather than later. “I will, once I get to the desk. I really have to go though, because Morgan is being annoying.” he said, a bit remorseful. “I’ll text you soon. Maybe call later tonight?” You asked and heard a mh-hm from the other side of the line. “Okay.. Bye, talk to you soon.” “Bye.”

When you hung up it really settled in you weren’t going to find this file you were looking for. Which meant there would be a ton more paperwork, a new file, which meant over time. So you made your way down to whoever could help you with this file, explaining the situation you got a new version along with an entire packet of paperwork to fill in to ‘officially’ request a copy of the file. Getting back to the lab you sat down, ready to start the tedious task of correctly filling in everything.

It was late when you finished. Almost dark outside the clock indicating it was 7:30 p.m. At least your paperwork was finished. With a sigh you closed it. Stretching back your arms with a groan. Sitting hunched never did wonders for your body. A growl from your stomach signaled it was really time to get going. As you packed your bag you thought about the leftover pasta bolognese you had in your fridge, just how good it sounded right about now. With the paperwork in hand you left the lab, locking up behind you and heading down. Spencer´s purple scarf was loosely wrapped around your neck. Leaving the filled in forms in the designated inbox of the higherup who needed to officially grant your request. Everything was always so bureaucratic. You texted Spencer you were finally leaving Quantico, getting a ‘But isn’t it almost 8?��� back from him. You chuckled, ‘Couldn’t find the file I talked about, so had to get a replacement, you know how much paperwork that takes.’ you texted back nuzzling your nose into the soft fabric of his scarf. Inhaling the smell, feeling a little better with it around you, like he was there to joke about the file, say it was okay.

Saying goodbye to the security guard before you headed to the parking garage, your car was one of 5 left on the floor. When you got in and turned the key in the ignition it ticked but never caught on. You sighed, of fucking course this was to happen now. You already had a stressful day, this was just the cherry on top. You slammed your hands against the wheel quickly before taking the key out, popping the hood, and stepping out. You opened the hood, seeing your car battery disconnected, your heart sank. This is weird.

Panic rose like bile in your throat. Your heartbeat raced as your hands trembled. Everything inside of you told you to run. Yet your feet were nailed in place. Rooted to the ground, unable to move. Not wanting to look up in case something, or someone was close by. From the corner of your eye, however, you saw movement. A black clad figure moving closer. You gripped the strap of your bag, a trembling hand moving into the pocket of your jacket. Taking the key in a firm grip, in case of emergency it could be used as a weapon. But it was of no use, when the figure got close you turned with the key in hand. Raising your right hand to hit the figure, to embed the tip of your key into any soft tissue you could reach, but your wrist was caught in a quick movement. Your eyes widened as you recognized the face that stood in front of you.

Tommy.

You gasped his name out while trying to wring your hand out of his grip. “I’m sorry.” He managed to say before you felt a pinch in your left arm. Confusion, panic, fear, those emotions washed over you as you realized what just happened. He had drugged you. You could feel the way your arm grew heavy, along with your breathing labored. Trying not to panic because that would just make everything work faster. You still struggled against his hold but he had you pinned against your car. There was nowhere to run to. You just prayed the security cameras were picking up what was happening. Tommy wasn't that smart to shut down the cameras too, you hoped. “You’re not sorry.” your voice sounds slurred. It became more difficult to keep your eyes open, to keep standing straight. “I just can’t lose you.” He almost sounded apologetic as his arm moved to keep you upright. “Fuck you.” Was the last thing you managed before your eyes betrayed you. Darkness took over, and your body went limp in the arms of your worst enemy. 

Blinking rapidly didn’t seem to do anything. Vision still black you felt your hands were tied behind your back. There was a sore spot on the left one. The way you had been sat had your head tilted forward and your neck was now incredibly stiff. You were on a chair for sure. Blindfolded and tied up. You tried to stay calm, to not let your emotions take over. But your heartbeat was fast, loud in your ears, it made it hard to focus. You didn’t know how long it had been but it must have been some time. Your phone was no longer in your pocket, at least you didn’t feel it. The scarf around your neck was gone, Spencer’s scarf. Panic over took you again. Breathing picking up in short, quick bursts. “Don’t panic, please. You always overreacted.” Tommy’s voice sounded out. Your head shot up, craning around, trying to locate where he was. “Me? Overreacting? Tommy, you kidnapped me!” You said exasperated, while your hands were straining against the rope that had your wrist stuck to the chair. “Well you wouldn’t have come with me if I asked.” You groaned at that answer, clearly your wishes to never see him again weren’t clear enough of a hint. “Because you hurt me! I never wanted to see you again.” You raised your voice, trying to not yell but you were frustrated, scared, panicked.

“Just… ugh! You aren’t even listening to what I want to say!” Tommy sounded frustrated. Suddenly his hands grabbed your shoulders, he had been closer than you thought. His grip an iron vice as your body stiffened. Breath caught in your throat. “Okay. Okay. I’m listening. That’s what you wanted, right? So say what you need to say.” You said, trying to calm down. Logically you knew you shouldn’t be indulging him. But you knew that egging him on would make things worse. He was explosive, angry, that’s what happened every time. “Right. I need you to listen. Because, I have been thinking.” Tommy started, his hands still holding onto your shoulders. You could feel the breath on your skin, it was humid. Like a wolf looming over its prey, panting out to finally have caught dinner. “I think. You shouldn’t be with that guy. He is a twig, I could be so much better. We could work things out if you gave me a try. You are going to give it a try.” He sounded almost out of breath as he spoke. As he tried to get his thoughts in order. “I have given it a try, but it didn't work. Tommy, you haven’t changed. At all. So why would it work now?” You answered, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear but it was important for him to hear it. Your emotions flipping like a switch, wanting to placate him and then wanting to tell the truth, to egg him on. The heartbeat under your skin felt like a drum against your ribs. Hammering a constant rhythm of anxiety. “No, I have changed. You just didn’t give me a chance to show it. Going on and on about how I have been stalking you. I haven’t! I have changed and you are going to let me show it to you.” His grip tightened before he let go. You could hear his feet, pacing around, probably with his hands in his hair. Like he did when he was frustrated with you. He always did.

“You can’t keep me here. The FBI will come looking when I don’t show up tomorrow.” You strained your wrists, trying to feel if there was a knot you could loosen. But it felt like zip tie cuffs. Plasticy, hard and digging painfully. “You called in sick with a really bad stomach bug. It will take at least a week.” He swallowed after his answer, walking a few steps away to rummage through something. With the blind fold on you could see a little strip of light as you looked down, though it was relatively dark probably due there being no windows. No he wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep you somewhere with windows. It would be too big a risk, and he did not seem like he wanted to lose you. In your mind you hoped he hadn’t texted Spencer, hoping that he��d try to call you later tonight like you had agreed upon. If you didn’t answer he would probably figure something was wrong. If he did text him something you prayed it was so out of character that it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Right… and after that week?” You asked, hoping to keep him talking, keeping him talking would keep him from hurting you. That seemed most logical at least. “You will see how good I am to you. You won’t want to leave anymore.” Tommy said, “And if you don’t I’ll just tell them a family member died, request a leave of absence.” He continued and the rummaging stopped. Your heart dropped, not knowing what to expect at that moment. It could be something to hurt you with, something to shut you up, no matter what you did there was going to be something. More footsteps. It kept your heart rate up that was for sure. Something clamped around your ankle, cold, metal. Thick and heavy, the weight pressed down on your foot. “You can move around like this. Can’t make you love me again when you’re stuck to a chair.” He almost chuckled at that. The sound made your stomach feel heavy. Like he didn’t seem to care about your wellbeing. Blood running cold at that. Like a polar stream running through your body. “Move around?” Your voice sounded strained. Throat closed and breathing tight.

He stepped around you, you could feel the air shift as he moved. Stepping to the back his hands were on your wrists. “Yes. You have to promise you won’t try to hurt me. Otherwise you’re right back in this chair again.” Now that was something you didn’t want. Being stuck in place, physically unable to move, it was the worst choice. When released at least you could move around. Get a feel of the place. Find a way out. “Right… I promise.” You said it slowly, deliberately. Each word out of your mouth needs to be thought out from now. Using words to placate. Fight, flight, freeze or fawn. And with Tommy, fawn seemed to be your best option. Keeping him friendly would give you time. 

Your hands were released from their cuffs, the blind fold removed from your eyes. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim light of the room. You were sitting in a wooden chair, you had figured as much. There were no windows, 2 doors, one on your left and one right in front of you. The carpet on the floor was a weird  green color that looked like it had been stained one too many times by something unknown. There was a small living room area, two couches with a coffee table. A kitchenette on the opposite wall. Turning your head you saw a dining room table. It was like you were in a weirdly small studio apartment. Everything was there to live. You glanced down, your right leg sporting a metal cuff, a chain going off to the wall. “Welcome home.” Tommy said it almost triumphantly, proud of his work.

It hit you like a ton of bricks. Tommy was going to keep you here as a forced housewife. And you just prayed Spencer would realize what was going on quickly.

Tags:

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@tootsiefootsie @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @sammy-4103 @thedevioussmirk @pleasantwitchgarden @khxna   @suckstobrlaurie @mega-kittyglitter-1 @superlegend216 @seninjakitey

[sgt-tombstone]

If You Ever Forget That You Love Me

Ghost x Soap || Gen

tags: major character injury, amnesia, amnesiac Soap, canon typical violence, emotional hurt/comfort, they’re in love your honor

————

Soap gets shot, but he survives. it’s a close call, but he makes it out of the tunnel and to the nearest hospital, leaking too much blood for Ghost’s comfort, and the front desk nurse gets the fright of her life when three frantic soldiers march in with a breathing corpse held up between them, blood coating them all from head to toe. thankfully, scaring the shit out of other patients is a sure fire way to get treated quickly, so Soap is immediately swept away. Price and Gaz have to hold Ghost back, to keep him from following, his heart in his throat as Soap disappears from sight.

when he gets stabilized in the hospital, two brain surgeries and multiple cardiac arrests later, the doctors warn the 141 that he could have severe brain damage when he wakes up. that he might not be able to continue serving. that he might not even know who they are, or who he is. it’s a possibility that they all prepare themselves for, during the long weeks waiting for Soap to shake off his coma, to come back home.

Ghost worries the most out of all of them. Gaz and Price beat themselves up, even though they couldn’t have done anything differently and they all know it. they both throw themselves into work, spending well over twelve hours every day holed up in Price’s office, poring over every piece of intelligence on Makarov that Laswell manages to scrounge up, and they visit Soap whenever they can in between, but Ghost doesn’t move. he planted himself next to Soap’s bed the moment his sergeant got out of surgery and he hasn’t moved since, to the nurses’ clear displeasure. he doesn’t care.

he never got the chance, never plucked up the courage, to tell Soap how he felt, and he almost lost him entirely. he’s not going to make the same mistake again. he just needs Johnny to wake up, to remember him.

when Soap finally blinks his hazy blue eyes open, squinting in the harsh fluorescent light, head falling to the side and face splitting in a grin when he spots Ghost staring back, Ghost knows that worrying was pointless. Johnny’s the strongest man he’s ever met; if anyone could pull themselves back from a bullet to the brain, it’s him. and he did.

Ghost wants to confess right then and there. the air is thick with anticipation, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t. he needs to get the doctors, needs to tell Price, needs to let Johnny heal in peace without the burden of Ghost’s feelings heavy on his mind. he presses the call button and slips out of the room in the resulting chaos, resolving to stay as far away from the medical building as possible. a return to normal.

he makes it all of three days before Gaz nearly drags his ass back, complaining loudly and at length about Soap’s incessant whining at the absence of his favorite lieutenant at his side, and the way Johnny perks up, his eyes glowing with excitement and something like relief, breaks his resolve in an instant. he could he deny his sergeant anything, after everything?

he confesses that night, and if the ensuing make out session sends Johnny’s heart monitor into a tailspin and the nurses into a frenzy, well… Price doesn’t have to know that part. (evidently, he does anyway, if the half-exasperated, half-fond look he gives Ghost the next day is anything to go by.)

Johnny recovers quickly, all things considered. bullet to the brain and all that. within weeks, he’s up and walking around, all but begging to be released. he’s passed every milestone and test they’ve thrown at him with flying colors. he’s alert and aware. he’s mobile and quickly regaining his dexterity. he’s restless, more restless than Ghost has ever seen him, but he can’t exactly blame him, either. none of them are made to be cooped up.

which is why, six months later, when Soap’s memory starts to fail, they do their best to hide it.

it scared the shit out of Soap the first time. it was something simple, a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite reach, and Ghost had watched in quiet horror as Soap floundered for several long seconds in the middle of the rec room, eyes welling with panicked tears. he’d quickly pulled them both back to Ghost’s room, unwilling to let his sergeant fall apart in public, and they spent hours curled around each other, assuaging their fears. one instance of a faulty memory was to be expected, right?

but it kept happening. nothing major, just enough to be concerning. words he couldn’t find, objects misplaced, details about the rookies under his command. Ghost took to trailing him like a lost puppy, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice should Soap’s mind betray him. he earned some odd looks for it, and Price was obviously itching to ask, but he refrained, and Ghost was infinitely grateful. if they were anyone else, doing anything else, he might’ve told him, but they were soldiers, and they needed to find Makarov. everything else could wait. men like Soap aren’t made to be cooped up.

they find Makarov, and that’s all that any of them are legally allowed to say. what happens to him afterwards is a story that even Laswell never gets to hear. the first (and only) time she asked, Price muttered, “revenge,” and she decides that some things are really none of her business; some things are better off staying unknown.

after Makarov’s death, though, Johnny gets worse. noticeably worse. it’s not just the occasional small detail that slips through his fingers like sand; the day he blanks on Gaz’s name when trying to get his attention is the beginning of the end, and the day he glances towards Ghost across an active firefight, wide-eyed and panicked, unsure of where he is or what they’re doing, is the end of it all.

the honorable discharge is nice, but none of them are in the mood to celebrate it, especially not when Soap clings to Ghost like a child while the 141 mingles. the circumstances of his discharge are strictly confidential, and most people assume it has something to do with his leg, considering the slight limp he walks with, and he lets them think it. he can’t exactly reveal the truth; the upper brass never like to hear exactly how their cannon fodder fare outside of the gilded halls of ceremony and awards. he’s the talk of the party and everyone wants to shake his hand and reminisce about the god old days. Soap doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he doesn’t remember their names, much less any good old days they might’ve shared together. he relies on Ghost muttering almost silently behind his mask to get through the conversations with even a shred of dignity, and they last less than an hour before Ghost decides to call it a night. he can’t stand the anguished look in Soap’s eyes when he racks his brain for someone’s call sign or the name of their spouse.

it only gets worse outside, though; Soap turns to Ghost with tear-brightened eyes, and Ghost has never seen him so scared. they manage to make it back to the flat they co-signed for, back home, before Johnny falls apart, and Ghost retires the next day.

civilian life is… hard. for both of them. some days are better than others; some days, Johnny wakes up completely cognizant, and he spends those days curled in on himself, plagued by a fear of his own mind. other days, he wakes up lost and confused, his military training kicking in to defend himself against a stranger in a strange place, convinced that he’s been kidnapped.

Simon isn’t sure which days are worse. the former are spent trying to get Johnny to eat and get out of the house before his own mind paralyzes him and the latter are spent trying to convince Johnny that he’s not going to kill him in his own home.

there are good days, too, and those outweigh the bad in both number and quality. those are the days when Johnny wakes up and remembers Simon’s name, remembers his sister’s birthday, remembers that life is worth living. Simon hoards those days like treasure.

over the years, Johnny declines, slowly but surely. they both knew it would happen; it was only a matter of time, but it’s scary watching it happen in real time. Simon has lost count of the number of times that he’s been attacked standing in his own kitchen, making his morning cuppa, because Johnny woke up alone and terrified. he’s lost count of the number of times that he’s held Johnny in his arms, fingers threading through the overgrown strands of Johnny’s hair, reminding Johnny of their shared history. he’s lost count of the number of times that he’s had to remind Johnny what his name is.

the upside—because there are always upsides, Johnny was the one to teach him that—is that Johnny gets to experience a lot of things for the first time again. their Lord of the Rings marathon was a particular delight, especially when Simon got to wow his boyfriend with the Viggo Mortensen broken toe fact for the second (and third) time. his favorite, though, is when Johnny looks at his face like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it, all wide eyes and parted lips, like he’s caught a glimpse at the face of god. Simon always tells him that he’s seen it before, and Johnny never believes him, or at least pretends not to. it’s odd, having a running joke with an amnesiac, but neither of them have ever been normal, so Simon supposes it makes sense.

together, they come up with systems that help. it takes a lot of trial and error, and one too many awkward hospital trips where Simon has to convince the nurses not to call the authorities because his boyfriend stabbed him in the middle of the night, but they develop some routines.

Simon never gets out of bed before Johnny; he’ll wait hours for his partner to wake up, because he always wakes up better in Simon’s arms than in an empty bed. he leaves notes all over the house, little sayings and doodles that Johnny always gets excited to find, but the most important ones get put on the bathroom mirror, because he knows Johnny will reliably see it, vain creature that he is. their kitchen table is covered in a giant sheet of paper, which doubles as a drawing space and a living history; every detail of their lives, past and present, gets recorded on paper for Johnny to read whenever he gets lost.

it’s not perfect, but Simon wouldn’t give it up for anything. he adores Johnny, adores that he got a second chance to love Johnny the way he deserves, and it’s the one detail he’ll never let Johnny forget: that he is loved, unconditionally.

[skyward-floored]

Pup

I was looking through my fics since ao3 is back up, and realized I never put this one on tumblr?? A crime. But here it is now. Bapy Twi and protective Hero’s Shade Time for your reading pleasure :)

Ao3 link

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There’s a child crying.

A sharp golden ear pricks as the sound of it flits past, soft cries interspersed with hiccups that are desperately trying to be muffled. It’s a fair distance away, the wind carrying the sound of it through the forest, and the ear’s owner glances around and twitches his other ear as the sound continues.

There shouldn’t be anyone in this part of the woods.

A frown tugs his mouth, as much as it can in the form he’s currently in. He’d felt he’d be needed soon in the land of the living, the cure for his spirit’s restlessness drawing nearer by the day, so he’d drawn closer to the kingdom he’d once been the hero of, settling into the form of a divine beast as he’d padded through the woods, waiting and watching.

And then the crying had begun.

He raises his head, his ears flicking, and listens intently, following the quiet sounds towards their origin. Brambles tug his golden fur, but he pulls his way past the thickets, certain that if his hearing wasn’t so sensitive, he likely wouldn’t have heard the child at all.

He hasn’t been walking for long when the crying abruptly goes quiet, cutting off with a fearful whimper. He freezes, sharply pricking his ears before lowering his nose to the ground instead.

He filters out the smells of the forest, ignoring the fresh plants and musky scents of other beasts, searching instead for that of a child. It takes a moment, but a soft, young scent finally wafts into his nostrils, hints of pine and soft hay spiked with fear throughout it... but there’s something else making up the scent of the child that makes him start.

A faint musk of horses, and milk too.

A scent he knows intimately.

He quickly finds the direction where the scent of the child is coming most strongly from, and takes off at an even faster pace than before. The crying had concerned him, but the absence of it worries him even further, and the realization of who this child must be has him trotting rapidly between the trees.

All of a sudden a cry rings out, sharp with fear, and he bolts, paws pounding against dirt and moss alike.

He nearly trips on the roots that stick up from the ground, and mud tries to slip him up, but he ignores them all and runs even quicker, grateful for his long, powerful legs. His fur stands on end as he suddenly enters a clearing, and the reek of monsters hits his nose, but the beasts aren’t what he focuses on.

He only has eyes for the small child huddled on the opposite side of the clearing from him.

The boy can’t be older than two, dirty brownish-blonde hair brushing his face, blue-grey eyes widened with fear. Tears shine in his eyes, and he’s trembling where he’s cornered solidly against a large tree. The sight of him is almost entirely blocked off by monsters, all with weapons drawn and malicious grins twisting their already grotesque faces even further.

But what most sets his hackles rising and a growl rumbling through his chest, is the sight of the tip of a blood-red blade pointed at the child’s neck, held by a foe the golden wolf knows well.

A Shadow.

He growls, and the shifting darkness turns, glancing towards him with a startled look in his eye. But the emotion is quickly smothered, replaced instead with an amused smirk.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise,” he remarks nonchalantly, as if he’d suddenly dropped by for tea rather than found him about to murder a young child in the middle of the woods. “You’re looking quite a bit older than last I saw you. But I suppose regret does weigh a man down, doesn’t it?”

He lets out a deeper growl in response, and the Shadow chuckles.

The darkness making him up abruptly shifts, settling into something less formless. A broad form with a pelt draped across the shoulders slips into view, a normally kind face twisted into a smirk. Tattoos glowing a faint red as bangs brush across his forehead, and the golden wolf almost takes a step back at the familiar face now looking at him.

But he checks himself, standing his ground with a snarl.

“Perhaps it was forward of me, but I went ahead and introduced myself to your descendant,” the shadow says, smiling down at the young boy he’s still pointing his sword at. The child shrinks away, and he laughs again. “I must admit, I don’t see much of a resemblance.”

He suddenly dips down and snatches the boy up by his tunic’s collar, eliciting a startled cry from the child.

“Take a good look at what you become, Link,” he says in a low voice, ignoring the boy’s struggling. “Because this will soon be a future that doesn’t exist.”

He draws his blade up again, pressing it to the child’s throat.

Link whimpers and the golden wolf grows dangerously, but he’s unable to do anything without risking his descendant’s life. There are simply too many weapons pointed his way, things that could go wrong, and the wolf darts his eye around for an opening.

“It’ll be quite fascinating to see what happens to this time period without you to save it,” the Shadow says mildly, teasing the blade closer. “Eternal Twilight sounds rather intriguing to me. I wonder what will become of Hyrule?”

He glances back at the wolf, who feels desperation start to sink into his chest.

“What do you think, Hero of Time?” the Shadow hums, and the golden wolf feels his heart clench when the red blade draws a single bead of blood from the boy’s throat. “A snap of the neck, or a sword through the chest? I’ll let you decide.”

He lets out a fearsome snarl, blood roaring in his ears.

The Hero of Twilight cannot die now, he is too important a player in future events, too important to the fate of Hyrule. He plays an integral role in history, and killing him now would damage the flow of time irreparably, both in the Twilight invasion and later in their quest to take down the Shadow.

Not to mention the fact that this is his descendant, the only living remains of his family, of his wife, of his children—

Twilight cannot die now.

The Shadow waits for him to make a move with a smug grin, certainly expecting him to try something. The wolf recognizes the look in his eyes though, and knows that if he so much as takes a step in the wrong direction his descendant will be dead before he can even think about attacking.

He glares at the Shadow as a terrified tear escapes down Link’s cheek, feet burning with the desire to get the child out of his clutches and somewhere safe. But the darkness only smiles at him, a satisfied look in his eye as his descendant continues to struggle.

It’s the look of someone who believes he’s won.

And the thing is, he likely would have too, if not for the fact that the hand of the child in his grasp suddenly begins to glow.

Blindingly.

The boy’s hand flashes, and the shadow shouts in surprise and drops him. It’s the only opening the golden wolf needs to leap forward at the nearest monster, tearing it’s throat out without any provocation. The beast lets out barely a gurgle as it falls, and the wolf leaps at another, tearing through the group that stands in his way. It doesn’t take him long to fight his way to the middle, and he leaps forward, standing protectively over his descendant.

Their Shadow hisses in anger, and the golden wolf matches it with a growl of his own, the two taking stock of each other.

He can hear Link’s heart thudding nearly out of his tiny chest behind him, and glances back at him just once, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and trickle of blood on his neck. Then he turns his attention back on his old foe, who should be long gone in this era of history.

“Obviously I should have gone after you first,” the Shadow snarls, eyes blazing. “I’ll kill you both, Hero of Time, and I’ll make you watch as I rip your descendant to pieces in front of you.”

Instead of replying, the golden wolf launches himself at the Shadow’s throat.

The movement is startling enough that his teeth connect, though not as solidly as he would’ve liked. He bites as deep into the thick, dark magic that makes up his foe as he can, ignoring the familiar visage the Shadow is still wearing, and the darkness shrieks.

He lurches backwards from him, black blood spraying down his front as he swings his sword, and the golden wolf goes to attack again despite the stinging cut now marring his cheek.

He fights with a ferocity he usually doesn’t give into, claws gouging and teeth snapping as he protects the child behind him. The Shadow is no match for one as skilled as he, even with his tricks and skills of his own, and soon the golden wolf is standing above him, shadowy form barely held together.

Black blood seeps into the forest floor, and while the golden wolf sports a few injuries himself, none are overtly dangerous. Blood trickles down his snout as he steps onto the Shadow’s chest, and he levels the darkness with a terrifying glare.

“LEAVE,” he roars, and with one last look of pure hatred, the shadows disperse, sliding back to whence they came.

The golden wolf lets out an exhausted huff, and sits down for just a moment.

He takes stock of himself, and makes sure the clearing is completely void of any more dangers before turning around to look at Link. He pads slowly over to the boy still shaking against the tree, aware that the sight of him will likely be frightening due to the fight he just witnessed. There’s blood in his fur and he’s still panting for breath, but Link merely stares at him, a few tears still rolling down his cheeks.

His blue-grey eyes, so familiar to the wolf, flit across his face, fear still bright in them. But they also shine with an odd curiosity, and wonder along with the terror.

He supposes that makes sense. Twilight always had loved dogs.

The golden wolf stops a few paces from the child, sitting down and allowing him to make the first move. After a long moment, the boy inches a little closer, and reaches out a trembling hand towards him. It alights on his muzzle, and he allows the child to run a few shaking fingers gently down his snout, which seems to convince him he’s not a threat.

The boy then launches himself at the wolf, snuggling tightly into his fur as he begins to cry again.

The golden wolf lets out a soft whine, meant to be comforting, and Link sniffles loudly as he presses his head against his neck. He seems content to stay buried in his fur a while, and the golden wolf breathes in slowly, allowing himself to once again taste the familiarity that lies in his boy’s scent.

The child doesn’t have the exact same scent as home, or even the same as when they traveled together. But it’s there, and as he gently nuzzles the tears from his cheek, that old familiarity both soothes and pains him.

“This is all natural strength!”

“I’ll uh, heh, look into getting him a proper rod...”

“Any chores that need to be taken care of? I’m familiar with farm work.”

“Oh, this means our little ones will have families of their own, and them after— oh I’m getting ahead of myself!”

“Win this fight! Show us that courage can fight in every battle!”

The child lets out a wet hiccup, and the golden wolf curls himself around him, trying to exude as much comfort as possible. The boy crying into his fur shouldn’t have to worry about monsters yet, about Shadows that attempt to destroy and kill, or the hero he’s going to someday become.

He‘s too young to have to worry about his future.

He sits curled around the boy for as long as it takes him to calm down, hiccupy sobs gradually slowing. The sniffles continue, but at some point they’re accompanied by the growling of his stomach.

The wolf pricks his ears at that, and pokes Link with his nose, making him startle a bit and raise his head. The boy wipes some tears from his eyes and looks at him with a confused expression, and the golden wolf gently pushes him towards his back, hoping the young boy will get the hint.

Link takes a minute to realize what he means, but once he does he easily clambers onto his back, still sniffling a little. The wolf feels his hands clutch at the thicker fur by his neck, and he carefully stands up, beginning to trot off through the woods again.

He knows exactly where he needs to take the boy.

The trip to his destination isn’t too far, but between making sure his charge doesn’t fall off his back, and avoiding the occasional monster that dwells in the woods, it takes longer than he’d prefer. By the time he reaches the spirit’s spring, the sun is nearly set and Link is fast asleep on his back, nestled into his fur with little breathy snores escaping him.

The sun is low in the sky, but a few orangey rays of light still shine through the trees, making the water almost glow as the wolf settles down next to it.

As he quietly waits for the boy to stir, a fairy flits by, pausing upon seeing him. She greets him with a chime, which he acknowledges with a nod, and she zips over, jingling worriedly at the injuries he and the child have sustained. He shakes his head at her to tell her not to worry about it, but she spins a few tight circles around them both anyway, and the handful of stinging wounds the golden wolf had been ignoring fade quickly away.

He gives the fairy an grateful look, and she chimes warmly as she continues on her way, disappearing into the fading light.

He watches her go, then gently slides the boy off into a soft patch of grass, pausing when he lets out a murmur in his sleep. But his descendant settles down again, and inwardly he sighs in relief. He settles in next to him to wait, and carefully licks off some of the blood that still stains his neck, going back and forth between cleaning out his fur, and trying to tidy Link up a bit too.

He doesn’t bother keeping an ear out for danger. This spring is a safe place, secure from darkness, and if he’s right about the village that lies only a few hills away, this is where Link is meant to be.

Footsteps suddenly approach from nearby, and the wolf pricks his ears as he listens to them. He gives Link’s cheek one last soft nuzzle, the boy beginning to stir, then slips away to watch from a distance, hidden in the bushes.

Right as he settles in, a young man walks into the spring, blonde hair held back with a bandana. His focus is on the open gate, fiddling with the mechanism that probably locks it once the doors are together, but then Link’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

The man startles and turns, and meets the wide eyes of Link, who is staring at him with an equally surprised look on his face. The man blinks at the sight, and releases the pommel of his sword he’d reflexively grabbed.

“A Hylian?” he murmurs to himself, obviously confused at the sight in front of him.

The man’s eyes take in the dirt coating the child seated in the grass, old tear tracks on his cheeks and dried blood speckling his front. He doesn’t outwardly react, but the wolf sees the confusion in his eyes change to outright concern, and the man gets down to a knee, giving Link a gentle look.

“Where did you come from little one?” the man asks softly, and the wolf watches as Link shrinks down and doesn’t answer, lip quivering.

The man hums, and carefully inches closer, reaching a hand out.

“It’s all right,” he reassures gently, and Link looks up at him, appearing less afraid. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you hungry? I can get you some food, my wife is making dinner right now.”

Link hesitates, and glances back once at where the golden wolf is hidden with a worried look. He seems to consider, then finally steps closer, reaching out and taking the man’s hand. The man’s face brightens into a smile, and Link relaxes, letting himself be pulled a little closer.

The golden wolf watches in satisfaction as the man, whom he knows is named Rusl, brushes some of the dirt off Link’s face, giving him a reassuring smile.

He doesn’t know the exact tale of how Rusl ends up an adoptive father to Link; Twilight had never gone into much detail when it had come up, and he’d said before even he didn’t remember all the specifics. But he couldn’t have picked a better man to take care of his descendant if he’d tried, and despite him being unable to see it, he gives Rusl a respectful nod.

Rusl then picks up Link, gently and carefully, and settles him into his arms. Link freezes at first, but then sinks into the man’s hold, head resting tiredly on his shoulder.

“Come on little one, you’re safe now,” he says gently, and Link sniffles once, an arm wrapping tightly around Rusl’s neck. “Let’s get you inside, and get some food in you. Then we can try and figure out where you’re from.”

Rusl then stands and looks around the spring one more time, calculating gaze lingering on a paw print sunk into the sand. But it’s getting darker by the second, and nothing else appears out of place, so Rusl leaves the spring, Link tucked securely into his arms.

Time watches them go, single eye glowing silently in the twilight.

[j-eryewrites]

All of You

MAIN MASTER LIST

ANON Request: Okay I can't have enough Sherlock angst so maybe just some feels or kidnapping or something like that. Thanks for your great work <3🙇🏼‍♀️ 

ANON REQUEST 2: I love your fics 💕💕 if requests are open, could you do one with BBC Sherlock in which the reader is kidnapped? (but they both have not confessed their love for each other yet, and the kidnapping perhaps prompts Sherlock to confess. idk up to you!) i just l o v e your Sherlock one shots!!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Haunted house, drugging, weapons, canon typical violence, kind of OOC Sherlock, cursing (Let me know if I have missed anything)

Author's Note: So, I got two requests A WHILE AGO and they were so similar I just decided to combine the two of them. (Requests are still not open, I’m just getting to the ones I never got around to writing to.) As for requests, I will be opening them back up once Arbitrary Lives and A Sinner's Redemption have concluded, so start thinking of some request ideas!!

The irony of the situation did not evade you. Sherlock’s latest case involved a serial killer. A serial killer who they were looking for at an abandoned haunted house attraction. The home wasn’t actually haunted, it was just a place years ago that would host a scary Halloween amusement park. However, that information did little to ease your nerves. What made things worse was that Sherlock suggested to split up. You, John, and he would all go separate ways to search for the killer. 

Immediately, you had declined. You've seen too many horror movies with John to know that splitting up was the worst thing you could do. Not to mention the experiences you’ve had working with the consulting detective for years. Never split up, that’s what you told yourself, yet here you were, by yourself, walking down the dimly lit halls of the gigantic house. Your mind ran a-wire with the thought of how many hidden rooms and passageways that could be kept in the walls. That image alone terrified you. 

With each step you took the house creaked and groaned. If that wasn’t a big neon sign blaring to the killer that you were there, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t but wince as the whole house squeaked with your latest step and at that point, you weren’t sure why you were trying to be quiet. 

Muttering curses under your breath you lowered your torch and turned around. You wanted to find Sherlock or John. Their presence made you feel safer and all you wanted to be right now was safe. Your body shivered as a chill crept up your legs to the back of your neck. The waves of nerves tickled the minuscule hairs on your body and if this was a horror movie eerie music would be playing. 

“Why did the killer have to be in a haunted house,” you whined as you approached the stairs to the bottom floor of the home where you last saw your tall consulting detective. 

Looking down the wooden steps you searched for the bright light of Sherlock’s torch. There was no light to be found. You sighed and pulled out your phone trying to be smart about this. The bright screen of your phone illuminated your view darkening everything behind and in front of you. Your fingers danced across the screen as you pulled up Sherlock’s contact. You pressed a button. The screen flashed with Sherlock’s name and your phone buzzed. But before you could speak or before Sherlock could answer, everything went black. 

There was something so insightful about being knocked out: the darkness of everything, the pain you felt in the back of your head like a soundtrack, and the erasure of all feelings. It was almost impossible to feel terrified about the haunted house when you weren’t even conscious in the first place. It was oddly peaceful and quiet, something you haven’t known in a long time since working for Sherlock. You weren’t sure how you became unconscious in the first place. As you lay in the darkness, there was one thought floating around in your mind. Shit. 

____

“You’re finally awake,” a hoarse voice cooed. 

A harsh light crept into your view causing you to wince. You longed for the darkness that you were encased in moments before. Soon your eyes adjusted to the bright light and began to take in your surroundings. 

First things first, you were strapped down to a table. The straps were extremely tight leaving you with barely any room to breathe. You gulped and began to twist underneath the straps. If you could move in the first place. 

The voice tsked before laughing. “It’ll be a while before you can move. The paralytic works fast.” Your eyes widened and you began to whimper. “Don’t worry, you can still scream.” 

That when you saw them, your captor and the killer. Dauning a medical mask and surgical wear they leaned in close and sniffed you. You closed your eyes at the proximity, wishing that they wouldn't be real if you couldn’t see them. “I can smell the fear coming off of you. It’s intoxicating,” your captor chuckled. 

“No…” you whimpered. Your voice was barely audible. 

The killer pulled back away from you. “No?” 

In your mind, you could go two ways. The first option, go with the idea that your “no” was terrified and try and plead with the killer. It was dignified and kind of cowardly but it was what you wanted to go with. Second, you could play it off cool. Well, as cool as you could while being strapped to a table with the killer’s face hovering over you. You could fight back. Taunt him and maybe provide Sherlock and John with enough time to try and find you. God, you hoped that they’d find you and that your brilliant consulting detective could solve the case. Now that you thought about it the second option seemed more plausible. 

“No, he’s going to find me. He’ll beat you. That’s what he does,” you muttered. Your voice still trembled as you delivered this line, but your eyes conveyed your determination and belief in what you said. 

All enjoyment from the killer’s face vanished and a darker expression replaced it. The look they were giving you would have paralyzed you if you weren’t already drugged. Their breath was scalding hot as they breathed into your ear. “He’ll never figure it out.”

You scoffed. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? He hasn’t even figured out that you’re gone.” They pulled down their medical mask to flash you a wicked grin. “This house has so many rooms. Twist and turns. You’ll be dead before he finds this room. 

You paled. All hope of playing it cool dissipated. You were terrified: Breath evaded you, your heart beat faster than it ever had before, your blood ran cold, and tiny beads of sweat encased your body. 

“I’m right.  You can even see him here,” the killer pulls up video footage of the house. In the middle of all the split screens, you can see Sherlock and John searching. A tight pain in your chest formed at the sight. “You know that your dear detective is too enamored with the case to remember that others exist. It’s a game and he wants to win, even if it means some of his teammates get left behind.” You can’t help the tears that pool in your eyes causing them to laugh. “It’ll be too late when he realizes it and the closest thing he’ll have to you again are the organs that will be in the bodies of others. You’ll be de–”

“Wrong.” 

You sobbed upon hearing that voice. It was Sherlock. He was here. He had come. The killer whirled around to find Sherlock standing with a gun in his hand aimed at them. 

“How…” the killer said. 

“Should’ve checked your cameras, then you would have realized they were on a loop,” the comforting voice of John spoke. 

The killer’s jaw clenched. 

“John,” Sherlock said. “ Get Y/N.” 

John snuck out behind Sherlock and carefully moved over to you. His eyes scanned over your distressed figure as his hands began to fiddle with the straps. 

“It’s alright, Y/N,’ John whispered as he untied the woman. 

“I can’t,” you shook your head. “...I can’t move.” 

John’s eyes filled with worry as the killer chuckled. “She’s paralyzed. I wouldn’t move her if I were you.” The killer turned around to look back down at you. 

“If you move one more centimeter there will be a bullet lodged in your head,” Sherlock growled. 

“You wouldn’t,” the killer hissed. 

“On the contrary. I like to win my games, even if it means that the rules are bent.” Sherlock’s eyes were glaring at the killer. 

Suddenly a muffled voice came from above. It was Lestrade. “Sherlock?”

“Down here, Gary!” 

Time seemed to move superficially fast as the police entered the basement.  However, time stilled the moment Sherlock retrieved you. John tried his best to pick you up but with the combination of his size and your apparent unmoving state, he found himself useless. Instead, Sherlock stepped up. With limp limbs and a stiff body, Sherlock lifted you off the cold and hard metal table. His gentle hand cradled your head as your body curled into him. He carried you as if you were the most precious and fragile things in the world. His secure and stable arms wrapped around you, pulling you immensely too close to his body, but you did not mind. He was warm and you were cold. He was safe and you were scared. Sherlock was exactly what you needed, and he was there. He was always there for you. 

Soon the blaring lights of the police cars filled your vision, concealing the ambulance waiting for you. You hated you couldn’t cling to Sherlock as he passed you over to the EMTs. They scanned your body checking for injuries and asking you questions while they did so. With each response and your insistence on your perfectly fine well-being, the EMTs grew more and more concerned. They wanted to take you to the hospital, but that was the last place you wanted to be: being strapped down to a table, with an IV in your arm, the medical masks, and scrubs. It was all too much too soon. The fear in your eyes was apparent at their conclusion, but before you could open your mouth to display your concerns, Sherlock spoke.

“She’ll be coming home with me.”

“But sir, she’s still drugged and paral–,” the EMT began. 

“If you just used your eyes, you would see that the hospital is the last place she wants to be,” Sherlock interjected. 

The EMT briefly gazed over at you before recognizing the truth in Sherlock’s words. 

“She still needs to be checked on after th–”

“I’m a doctor, I can make sure everything is alright,” John chimed in. 

You looked at John and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” your hoarse voice whispered. 

John smiled back. The EMT looked between the three of you and sighed placing her hands on her hips. “Alright, I’ll sign off on the paperwork and she’s free to go.” 

The moment the paperwork was signed, you were whisked back to Baker Street. Sherlock never left your side as he carried you into his and John’s shared flat and placed you down on their sofa. Mrs.Hudson had brought up tea and snacks in an attempt to get something into your stomach. However, the idea of shifting your body to raise your arms and extend your hand to retrieve the cup of tea and biscuits seemed too big of an ordeal. You were exhausted. Instead, you found the weight of your head too much to bear and collapsed onto Sherlock’s shoulder. With one look, John and Mrs. Hudson ushered themselves out of the flat. 

Your body was still trembling as the mental scars still flashed vividly in your mind. 

“You’re safe,” Sherlock hummed in a soothing voice. His gentle arms came up to wrap around your torse encouraging a wave of stillness to course through your body. You weren’t sure of what to say. So many ifs running through your head, so you settled for a thank you. 

Sherlock responded by pulling you closer. “I’ll always find you.” 

A watery smile appeared on your face. It was a smile that you forced as tears crept into the corner of your eyes. “Well, if you hadn’t made it in time, I would have given you my skull. That way you’d always have me on your mantel.” You tried to laugh. It was a poor attempt at a joke and you weren’t really sure why you were making it. You just did. 

Sherlock pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. You tried to look away, but his firm hand cupped your chin directing your gaze at him. “No. I don’t want your skull. I want you alive and safe. Anything less and I’ll never be satisfied.” 

His eyes seemed to glow as you stared into them. The gorgeous blue lulled you in like a siren at sea. You couldn’t turn away as he brought your face closer to wipe away the tears that had fallen from your face. 

“Okay,” you said in a hushed tone.

Sherlock seemed content with that answer and pulled you in to brush his lips against your forehead. He wanted to do more but now wasn’t the time. He wanted to whisper his heart and soul’s greatest secret into your ears and breathe it into your skin. He wanted you, all of you, but for now, holding you close, your heart thumping against each other, and the peaceful melody of your breath against his neck was all he needed.

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the Sherlock One shot tag list! Feel free to reblog or comment, I love hearing from readers.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

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______

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Epilogue (3 of 4)

The long-foretold Lucrecia chapter.

Rating: general

It was a completely insignificant day in late spring, one year, and the sun rode high above the rocky hills and weather-worn karsts of the Nibel region. The wind, up here, was colloquially called ‘the breath of the world’, and one could almost feel the planet’s living vitality in its brisk and spirited gusts, as they strove to toss you right off the mountain. This was perfectly usual, of course, and also much of the reason no one ventured out into this goddess-forsaken waste.

What was different about this day, was that a pair of booted footsteps had joined the wind, in whispering amongst the knee-high sedge grasses, knocking wisps of pollen into the air, and collecting bits of fluff on tall, black shin guards. These were not the meandering steps of a leisure hiker, nor the hurried footfalls of one who’d got lost from the trail, and was in haste to find it again. These steps were deliberate, following some prearranged path, though there was none to be seen, amid the tumbled rocks and windswept brush.

At length, the boots made their way to their apparent destination. It was a secluded mountain lake, crystal blue and nearly perfectly round—no doubt formed in the caldera of some long dormant volcano—that lay at the center of a green and tranquil oasis, hidden away in the inhospitable highlands, like a fairyland in a children’s tale.

At the northwestern end of the small lake, the thunder of the tributary falls rumbled down, from the high ridge. The waterfall was more energetic than usual, today, due to heavy snowpack in the mountains above, this past winter, so misty spray billowed and white foam roiled riotously, in the deep-blue basin below.

When the black boots came to the falls, they continued, undaunted, sure-footed as a mountain goat on the slippery rocks, as the cold spray beaded on well-polished leather, and rolled down in heavy drops, like dew.

At a wave of the hand from the owner of those boots, the waterfall, despite being swollen with snowmelt and rather proud of itself at the moment, stood meekly aside, to let the visitor pass through. There were some, after all, for whom even nature itself had no power to bar the way.

Perfectly concealed behind this glimmering curtain of living glass, was a narrow crevice, hardly wider than a single person. The boots proceeded, turning sidewise, to squeeze through, and vanish into the dark.

Deep inside the mountain ridge, this narrow crevice widened into a traversable path. Deeper still, the path opened up into a glittering cave, of tremendous size, in which the terrific heat and pressure of ancient volcanic activity had caused mass-crystallization of liquefied minerals. This had created the hundreds of strange stalactite and stalagmite columns, which stood like an eerie forest of stone, spanning from the floor to the ceiling of the cave, as far as the eye could see.

Eventually, the densely packed columns gave way to an open area, like a natural amphitheater, where the cave ceiling domed up and the floor smoothed out. At the center of this area, lay a circular pool, of faintly glowing water, which surrounded a much different mineral formation.

It was a pillar, formed of gigantic spars of some naturally luminous crystal, clear and slightly turquoise tinted, like enchanted ice. This pillar and the smaller crystal structures that had grown out from it, acted as the light source in the cave, illuminating the surrounding environment with a dreamy, otherworldly glow.

The light was not the most remarkable feature of this crystal pillar, however. Most remarkable was that, within the main column of transparent crystal, could be seen the figure of a young woman. She was dressed in white, and her lovely and delicate-featured face wore an expression of peaceful repose. Her eyes were closed, and her head slightly bowed, with her hands clasped on her chest, in a posture of prayer.

It was unclear, whether this was the true body of a woman, suspended in the luminous, mako-saturated crystal, or merely a visual remnant, graven into it by the life force of the planet, but the distinction was immaterial, to the one who observed her, now. This was her final resting place. That was all that mattered.

The black boots slowed their pace, crunching over the crystal gravel at a heavy, almost funerary cadence, until at long last, they arrived before the limpid pool, and the woman in her crystalline reliquary. There they stood, for a long time. And for a long time, there was no sound, but the little plashes of dripping water, afar off, in the dark recesses of the cavern.

Finally, a voice spoke softly, into the echoing silence. “So, we meet at last…mother.”

The crystal pillar’s fairie-light shone pale and glimmering on a cascade of silver hair, and illuminated the face of a young man, very like to that of the woman in the crystal. His was a sharper, harder beauty than hers, especially about the brow and catlike blue-green eyes, but his mouth and chin particularly, belonged entirely to her. Seeing their faces together, there could be no mistaking their close relation.

“In the likely case that you don’t recognize me, I am your son, Sephiroth,” the silver-haired man continued. He caught himself reflexively placing a hand over his heart and tucked it behind his back, instead. “I’ve come to…to pay my respects, I suppose. I hope you will forgive me for not coming sooner. My father has gently urged me to visit you for many years, but somehow, I could never bring myself to do it.”

The woman in the crystal remained serene and silent.

“He doesn’t know I’m here today. In fact, I’ve told no one what I intended to do. I couldn’t bear to feel the pressure of their thoughts, on the subject. This…is between you and me.”

Heedless of the glowing, ankle-deep water, he strode directly across the circular pool and stepped onto the disc of stone that formed the base of the crystal pillar. The woman’s figure was suspended a couple of feet above the base, but she was rather petite, and thus he, being nearly seven feet tall, stood almost at eye-level with her.

“You look different, from your photograph,” he remarked, without emotion. “A bit older. Thinner. Of course, when you came here, you were burdened by cares that did not yet weigh upon you, when that picture was taken.”

He reached out his gloved hand, as if to touch the crystal, where her face was, then withdrew it again, straightening up proudly.

“But I’ve not come here to talk about you. I have come to tell you who I am. I am the son of Vincent Valentine. I am now the most powerful single entity on this planet, aside from my father. In my early life, I was raised by various scientists and handlers, in Shinra Manor, to be the first SOLDIER—the flagship of Shinra’s genetically enhanced military. A professional war criminal. But…that never came to be. In the end, I never fought a single battle on Shinra’s behalf.

“When I was fourteen years old, I burned the manor to the ground and escaped with my father. We spent the following years working against Shinra from the shadows; subverting their people, embedding our own in their system, growing inside them like a virus. And when the time came to strike, it was far too late for them to fight us. We neutralized the host and took over, with…minimal bloodshed.

“What you knew as the Shinra Electric Power Company, is now called the World Regenesis Organization. It is still the greatest socioeconomic and political force, in the world, but under the guidance of our people, it is steadily being restructured; from a parasitic behemoth, draining the planet of its life force, to a benevolent, non-profit enterprise, actively fostering the harmonious existence of humans with the natural world.

“It has been…slow going, to be perfectly honest. Most of our work, so far, has been dedicated to undoing the decades of damage done by Shinra, in its previous incarnation. It will take centuries for those wounds to fully heal. But now, at least, there is hope. They even tell me that flowers are returning to Midgar. That is how things currently stand, with me. Of course, we must address the elephant in the room, sooner or later, so let us have it out, and be done with it, shall we?”

He stopped and took a long breath, letting it out slowly, and somewhat relaxing his heretofore stiff, formal posture.  

“First things first, it is only right to tell you that my father forgave you, for everything. He never really blamed you, despite my attempts to convince him he should. And I did attempt to convince him he should. Because…I blamed you. That is the whole truth.

“I won’t paint a falsely pretty picture of the catastrophe you left in your wake, to spare your feelings. Your troubles are over. The lives that you left behind—mine and my father’s—have continued on. Sometimes in misery and desolation, sometimes in sorrow and regret, but mostly…in hope. And in joy. You see, the terrible fate you foresaw—the destruction of the planet in a hell of fire, and me as a the angel of death—will never come to pass. But, perhaps I should begin at the beginning.

“Your apocalyptic visions did come true, once. In another future. But in that future, that version of myself found a way to free himself from fate. When his body died, he broke the chains of destiny, and bent the will of the lifestream to his purpose. Freed from his physical form, he traveled backward, through the timeline, gathering each version of us, from each crucial turning point, and brought them to me, to show me the way.

“With their help, I freed my father from Shinra’s slavery, and killed that old monster who tortured us. Yes, I killed Hojo, with my own hands. He has been dead for…seventeen years, now. Hardly time to even begin to undo all the evil he caused. May his houseless spirit wander the netherworld, with neither rest nor comfort, till all his wrongs have been erased from the memory of time.

“But where was I? Ah, yes. After I rid the world of Hojo, and Chaos rid the world of Jenova’s corruption, we began to create our vision, for the future. Since then, I have accomplished everything my other selves died to make possible. I have made all the things right, that went so wrong, in their futures. I have killed those who should have been killed and saved all those who should have been saved—”

He broke off and lowered his head, with an expression of pain.

“I should say…I have saved all but one. My father. I can’t save him. There is nothing I can do, to release him from the fate that you, willing or no, have damned him to. Because of the method you used to preserve his life, he has become one with Chaos. He no longer has a human soul, and can no longer merge with the lifestream.”

He looked up at her again, with his teeth bared and fire in his eyes.

“Do you understand what that means? It means he can never die. People say that I am immortal, but they have no idea what true immortality is. I am only ageless. I can live as long as I wish to, and I can also die. My father will never have that choice. He is truly immortal.

“That is the full horror of the curse you have laid upon him. When the sun burns out and this planet is nothing but a lifeless rock, hurtling aimlessly through the void, he will still exist, in that indestructible demonic form. And there is nothing…nothing I can do, to spare him the torment of aeons, that lies in his future.”

He paused and turned away, cupping his forehead in his hand, and clearing his throat, to regain control of his wavering voice. When he turned back, he appeared perfectly tranquil, again, but for the hint of pink that rimmed his eyes.

“For so many years, whenever I confronted the infinite tragedy that will be my father’s existence, I blamed you. I hated you. I cursed you bitterly. But…that was a child’s reaction, to a blurred and oversimplified understanding of reality. Despite all the knowledge I gained from my future selves, it seems that only experience, earned in the true passing of years, brings wisdom. And with wisdom comes reflection. And regret.”

Reaching into his long, black coat, he withdrew an old, dog-eared, faded and weather-stained book. Some of the yellowed pages had come loose and had been carefully tucked back in, held in place with paper clips.

“I’m sure you recognize this book. This is your journal. Not your research notes. This is the private diary, that you kept hidden from everyone. After your disappearance, it was mailed anonymously to Valentine Manor, of all things, where it lay in the library for many years, disregarded. It was recently discovered by an archivist, and brought to me, after its authentication. I beg your pardon for reading it, without your permission, but you understand.”

Smiling wistfully, he touched the battered leather cover of the book with his fingertips, tracing its surface gently, as if it were the face of a loved one. Then his brow furrowed and he swallowed hard, as if against some tautness in his throat.

“It has been…painful, to read this tale, knowing the end already. To witness, in real time, as it were, the hope and optimism of a young woman, her heartbreak and disillusionment, and her eventual decline into despair.

“But, through the words written here, I have come to know her. I have come to know Lucrecia. A passionate scholar and brilliant scientist, and sometimes, a rather silly and idealistic young woman. I have come to know her hopes and dreams. Her triumphs and disappointments. The fears and doubts she never dared speak aloud.

“I have come to know my mother. Not the lofty ideal I had constructed in my mind, as a child. Not the scapegoat for all my misery, that I made you into, as an adolescent. But the living, flesh and blood woman that you were. The unvarnished truth of you, in all its human ugliness and beauty.

“I know now that you truly did love my grandfather, though you never admitted it, in so many words. The way you wrote of him, in such starry-eyed hyperbole, was both comically trite and infinitely endearing. I know also that you cared deeply for my father. I know the way your guilt gnawed at you, with every word you spoke to one another. The way Grimoire seemed to be looking at you, from his son’s eyes.

“I have come to know also of your love for…for me. You must understand that I had always thought of my conception as the calculated act of a scientific mind, that did not care for the eventual human cost, when there were groundbreaking experimental results to be had. I know, now, how I—how I wronged you, in thinking of you that way.”

He broke off yet again, taking a shaky breath, to steady himself.

“Through your journal, I was by your side, when you made that impulsive decision to create a child, with my father’s genetic material. I felt your horror and grief, at his death, counterpoised with your anxious excitement, as the new life grew in your body. I felt your mind turn, from justification, to hesitation, to abhorrence of the things that you had done to me. I experienced your abject agony, when you awoke from the cesarean operation to find your infant gone, and yourself trapped and powerless to go to him. I heard you weep and beg and plead, over and over, to be allowed to see your son, and I watched those pleas fall on deaf ears. I know now that you never abandoned me and that you loved me, desperately. That you never even held me in your arms, and still you longed for me with every fiber of your being, just as I longed for you.”

A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek, which he quickly brushed away.

“You know, Hojo once told me I never had a name, and that Sephiroth was only a project designation. But I learned from your journal that you had chosen that name, for your future child, long before the project existed. Long before you even met the old serpent.”

He lowered his eyes and touched the cover of the book again, smiling softly, to himself.  

“Rather eccentric, and perhaps a bit pretentious, to name your unborn child a collective noun, for the channels of the divine creative force, in the tree of life. But you were young and full of grand ideas. You can be forgiven for such a flight of fancy. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve always liked my name. It sounds enigmatic and imposing, and it is unique in the world. Or—it was, anyway. So many babies are christened Sephiroth every year, now, that the census bureau has become sick to death of it, and lay the blame squarely at my feet.

“But I’ve strayed from my topic. I understand, now, that you were not to blame for the evil that befell us all. Yes, you made choices that led to terrible suffering, but without that malevolent man to perpetrate his atrocities, no choice of yours could have caused things to happen as they did. You made mistakes, mother, but you always intended to do good. He always intended to do evil. That is the great difference between you and him.

“You were deceived and used, then isolated and tormented, by that old viper, just as we were. He preyed upon your ambition, used your hopes and dreams to blind you, and slowly closed the walls around you. Then, he made certain you would blame your own foolishness and weakness, for the results. Finally, when you could bear the guilt and misery no longer, he allowed you to run away, to die alone in the wilderness. He never even sent anyone to search for you.

“I told you that with wisdom comes reflection and regret, and I have tasted this cup to its dregs. My regret has weighed heavily upon me, these past several years. I regret the injustice I’ve done you, by blaming and hating you, for the horror of my life. I regret wasting so many years in bitterness and anger, directed at you, because I couldn’t contend with the real source of all my pain: that for all my power—all my strength of will—there are still those things over which I have no control.

“Mother, I…I’m sorry.” His voice, smooth and steady till now, wavered and broke. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he made no move to conceal or wipe away the tears, that overflowed and spilled freely down his face. “I’m sorry for taking so long to grow up. I’m sorry for not even trying to understand you. I’m sorry for wanting your love so desperately, that a boy’s unrequited yearning metastasized into a man’s bitter resentment.

“The truth is, I only ever hated you for not being there. For not loving me enough to live. I know that is illogical and selfish, but I was a child. All I knew was my own pain. My own need for a mother. I grew so fixated on it, that I became unstable and destructive. That was when the old monster gave me the locket with your photo, and told me your name was Jenova.

“That little thing soothed me more than any of the tranquilizing drugs they tried on me. When I was still very small, I used to open my locket and whisper to your picture, at night, telling you of the things I’d accomplished, so that you’d be proud of me. I used to imagine that the smile in that photograph was meant for me.

“As I grew older, and more hardened by the ugly brutality of my life, I taught myself that such behavior was childish and shameful. I stopped talking to you. I stopped smiling back, when I looked at your picture. But the pain of your absence didn’t heal. It deepened and festered, in the darkness of my loneliness and grief, while the old monster tormented me, in the name of making me strong.

“Then one day…Vincent came. He was brought to me, to be a handler and bodyguard. I’m sorry to state it so bluntly, but he fully usurped your place in my heart, within hours of our meeting. It was not so terribly fickle, as it sounds, though. I knew he was my father, the moment I laid eyes on him.

“Not consciously, of course. I didn’t dare to admit that glimmer of heart-piercing hope into my world of darkness. And yet I knew it. My blood and my bones knew it—that he belonged to me, and I to him. Can I be blamed for transferring all of my childish longing and love, from the mother who was nothing but a picture in a locket, to the father who was solid and tangible, and right in front of me?

“Vincent dawned upon my world like a new sun, and transformed everything I knew, from drab monochrome to brilliant color. He taught me about spaghetti and birthdays, and watched movies with me. He was the first person who hugged me, and he was…he was the first person who ever said they loved me.

“To say that I returned his love would be a gross understatement. I was obsessed with him. Fixated on him. I wanted to bind him to me forever, and never let him escape. I would have burned the world for him, if I thought he wanted it. But, as it turned out, he was a good man. So I became good, too.

“As good as I can be, at least. I am still a man who loves to such excess, that I would unhesitatingly destroy the lives and happiness of anyone who dared stand between me and my loved ones.” He gave a rueful smile. “Our family really is given to romantic melodrama, are we not?

“But despite the grasping, jealous, needy way I loved him, my father never pushed me away. Never told me I was wrong. Never rejected me. Since the day we destroyed the monsters who authored all of our grief, and broke free of the yoke of Shinra, we have never been separated. I don’t mean physically, of course. We are grown men, we can’t be attached at the hip, all the time. But, no matter how far apart we are, we are always together.  

“You see, he gave me his heart. That is not a figure of speech, it’s here in my chest, beside my own.”

This time, he did lay a hand on his heart, and from his chest, a pale light shone, between his fingers. “You must remember this. It is the heart you gave him, mother. That he then gave to me, your son. Poetic, no? What did I say about our family and romantic melodrama?

“Speaking of family, what would my grandfather have thought, if he’d known about me? Did he ever imagine that you loved him enough to give birth to his son’s son, just to preserve a piece of him in the world? I wonder.”

He sighed and the light receded back into his chest.

“I wish I’d had a chance to meet him. He must have been a captivating man, to so deeply ensnare a heart like yours, whose first love was always science. For all of the heartache it caused, I hope he at least reciprocated your feelings, to some degree. All the evidence suggests that he did. As did his son. Two generations of Valentine men have died for you, and because of you, one will never die. A heavy burden for even a woman’s soul to bear.”

He smiled wryly at the beautiful face in the crystal, then looked away, clearing his throat.

“That’s…a joke you have no way of understanding. There is a certain person of my acquaintance—a Cetra seer, who reads auras and such things. She told me I had a woman’s soul. I should take it as a compliment, she said, because women’s souls are by far the stronger.

“There are many reasons my soul should seem abnormal, to a seer, but I would like to think that I carry a piece of your soul with me, mother. And that it was part of you, she saw in me. Because the more I am like you, the less I am like that thing. That dead abomination, behind the glass, in the mako tank. Its face haunts me, even to this day, and my body, though purified of its corruption, still bears its marks.”

He placed his gloved hands on his own cheeks, then ran them back through his silver hair, his eyes unfocused, darting back and forth. After a moment, though, he shook himself, and the spell seemed to pass.

“That is the secret I can never tell, mother,” he resumed, looking up at her. “I was born to be a monster. It is only by constant and conscious effort of will, that I have not become one. Not my will, alone, though. I would have given in, long ago. It is the love of my father, and those close to me, that has kept me on the right path. That has stopped me straying into darkness.

“So many suffered and died needlessly, in the other future, who now live happy and free from that terrible fate. They will never know the monster I could have become. But I will never not know. No matter how many I save, how much I change, how much of myself I give to this world, I can never erase the knowledge, that if my steps had faltered but a little, along the path, I would have destroyed the planet, and killed them all.

“I defied destiny, mother. I wiped the slate clean and created a new future, a new fate, and yet…I am still alone. A demon walking among the innocent. A wolf among the sheep. I can wear their hide and speak their tongues, but I can never be one of them.

“That was the real price I paid, to rewrite fate. It wasn’t the death of my physical body, at each inflection point. It was the sacrifice of my innocence, to return innocence to this world. I have paid dearly, for the lives and freedom of all its children. I have paid with my soul.

“My hands are clean, and yet my shoulders bear the weight of ten-thousand sins. How can a soul so blameless in deed, be so blackened in essence? How can I atone for sins I will never commit? How can I heal scars that have never felt a wound? Can I be forgiven, for what I have not done?”

He laid his hands on the luminous pillar and leaned his forehead upon it.

“If you knew me, as I am now, would you love me, nonetheless? Would you ever be proud to call me your son?”

Though he knew it was only childish wishfulness, he could almost swear he felt a faint warmth and pressure, on his skin, as if gentle arms reached out to embrace him, with infinite tenderness and unfathomable love. With that, the gates were flung wide, and the depths of his heart poured forth, a wordless hymn of sorrow and joy, as vast as the heavens and as deep as the abyss.

Borne down by the weight of it, he sunk to his knees, clinging to the crystal pillar, as shuddering sobs racked his invincible body, and tears poured down like snowmelt in spring, splashing onto the crystal-strewn floor at his mother's feet. Even when he had wept himself hoarse, till he had no tears left, he still clung to the pillar, gasping out wet, stuttering breaths, that fogged its glassy surface.

At long last, he grew calm again, and rose to his feet, wiping his face with his gloved hand. Then, peeling off the gloves, he laid his palms on the pillar and let his forehead rest against it, inches from his mother’s lips, whose kiss he would never feel. So close, and yet separated by an impassable divide.

“I’m getting married, mother,” he said hoarsely, after a while. “To my other half, my soul mate, my fated one…I don’t even know what to call him, for I have loved him in so many lifetimes. But in this life, I can finally say I have earned his love.

“I wish that you could know him. That you could see how good he is to me, and how good he is for me. How shall I tell you about him, in a credible way, when to me, he is perfection in human form? He has golden hair and bright blue eyes, like the sky and sea, and lovely little freckles, though he likes to deny they exist. He is small, for a man, but he isn’t the least bit soft or submissive, and his tongue is as sharp as his sword.

“I love him madly, even more when he scolds me. I would do anything for him. I have done everything for him. For my beloved, I have reshaped the fate of this world, with my own hands. For him, I have built this gentle kingdom, ringed in spears, so that he may live in peace, and without fear for the future.

“Back when we were children, walking on the beach together, collecting shells and sea glass, and talking about our hopes and dreams, I did tell him I intended to marry him, one day. But I never attempted to hold him, in my hand. I never attempted to bind him to me, lest I break his wings and suffocate him, with my love.

“Though it cost me deep anxiety and tremendous pain, I let my little bird fly as free as he wished. But he always came back to me, on his own. He loves me, mother. He knows the whole truth of me—everything, even the monstrous things my other selves did in their futures—and still, he loves me. Of all the people in this world, he chose me, to spend his life with.

“I had planned to wait until he turned twenty-one, to formally propose marriage, but when it came to it, he proposed to me, before I got the chance. Of course, he took Knight Fair’s suggestion and did it at a shareholders meeting, in the presence of all our friends and associates. And the Turks, who were there pretending to provide extra security, but really came to see the show.

“It was profoundly embarrassing. And…it was the most joyous moment of my life. To know once and for all, that I was chosen. That I was sought after and desired. That he loved me, as I loved him, and that he wanted to declare it before the world.

“For I always doubt, mother. No matter how I am reassured, I always doubt that I am truly loved or wanted. I feel…alien. As if those around me know I don’t belong, and are only awaiting the slightest pretext to cast me out from among them.

“My psychiatrist—my current psychiatrist, that is, my previous few have suddenly relocated or given up the profession—calls it social anxiety, related to an autism spectrum disorder. I suppose she knows her business, but it seems unfair that my superior brain can suffer from human dysfunction, and yet due to that very superiority, they have yet to find a medication that has any effect on me.

“Before I stray off topic and forget, I should tell you that my father is engaged to be married, as well. To someone my age, no less, the old villain. But everyone thinks they’re a perfect match, and no one is scandalized by it in the least, because despite his advanced age, my father looks as if he’s the younger of the pair. So it goes. I, too, will look younger than my beloved, one day. It will be in the far, far future, since he has been enhanced, but he will grow old. The day will come when he will leave me and return to the lifestream.

“As for my father…even I can’t say what his future holds. I only know I must find a way to save him. I can’t bear to think of him, bereft of everyone and everything he ever knew and loved, facing eternity alone. But even if I can’t alter his fate, I can at least not allow him to face it alone. He does not know, but I have already decided that I will not die, until he does.

“Somehow, I will save him, from the terrible curse of immortality, and only when he leaves this existence, will I consent to leave it, with him. That is my vow, before heaven and earth. My father and I will cross into the afterlife together, or not at all.” He lowered his head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I am sorry to disappoint you, mother, but it seems I will not be the one to break the family curse of romantic melodrama. But, with a name like Sephiroth, can you really be surprised?”

In the end, he loitered in that place for many hours, pouring out the minutiae of his life to his silent mother, in the way very young children will do, only all at once and in a torrential flood, since there were three decades of such anecdotes to get through. When he did depart, at long last, he smiled and pressed a kiss to the cold surface of the crystal pillar, where her forehead was.

“I love you, mother. You don’t have to worry about me, anymore. I will be alright. Rest now, and be at peace.”

As he left the cavern, Sephiroth paused and took a last, lingering look at his mother’s beautiful face, before he turned away, again, and the echo of his footsteps faded away, into the darkness.

Had he remained, a moment longer, he may have seen what appeared to be a single tear, roll down the pale cheek, within the luminous crystal. Perhaps a remnant of the young woman’s spirit still clung to her form, and was moved by her son’s love, to this final expression of emotion. Or perhaps it was only a trick of the light.

Several days later, WRO seismologists reported a massive seismic event, in the Nibel region, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in geological ages. When it was investigated, it was found that the quake had been caused by the sudden, catastrophic collapse of half a mountain range, which had been sitting atop a network of huge, volcanic caves, making the entire structure unsupportable. They considered it miraculous that the range had stood as long as it had.

The good news, however, was that there were no casualties, since those highlands were uninhabitable, and no loss of property. That is to say, nearly no loss of property. The tremors were felt all the way in Nibelheim, where multiple cats were startled out of naps, and half a dozen vases were shaken off shelves, to meet their untimely demise on Nibelheim’s famously tough wood floors.

As for a small, volcanic lake, high in the rocky hills, which was swallowed in the collapse; only a few geologists and intrepid mountaineers ever knew it existed, so no one lamented its loss.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY the fun one is next! tons of cameos, ahoy!! hooray tying up loose ends!!!

[mugloversonly]

Silver over Gold

Ch 3: Kintsugi - Final

Ch.1 Ch.2 AO3

Summary:

Steve and Eddie finally talk.

Steve stood outside Eddie’s door horrified by what he heard on the other side. Eddie was sobbing and his inner omega was whining weakly. “Eddie? Baby can I come in?” He pleaded.

“Alpha?” Eddie cried softly. “Door’s locked.” His voice was fading into a whisper. “I’m sorry alpha.”

Steve didn’t think twice about ripping the door of the hinges; he'd fix it later, he just hoped Wayne would understand. His omega needed him and his alpha would stop at nothing to help him (for once he was in total agreement). The smashing of the door echoed through the whole trailer but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. He was curled up on his side in the corner of the room with his head tucked against his knees, shaking violently. Steve rushed over to him and gently swept his hair out of his face. He gasped when he saw his beautiful omega. “Oh, Eddie.” He whispered. He was paler than usual, practically translucent. His lively chocolate eyes were red rimmed and puffy, empty as they stared up at him. Steve wasn’t even sure if Eddie could see him right now.

“I’m sorry alpha.” Eddie whispered. Steve stared at him hoping for some awareness in his eyes but there still wasn’t anything. He must be speaking unconsciously.

“Sh,” Steve cooed. “I’m right here, omega. Your alpha is right here. I'm not going anywhere.” He ran his hands up and down Eddie’s arms and kissed him on the forehead. His skin was freezing to the touch and if Steve didn’t know better he’d think he just came out of Lover’s Lake.

He took him into his arms, laid them back in Eddie’s nest, and removed their shirts for skin contact, pulling the blanket over them for good measure . Steve made sure to hold the omega’s nose directly onto his scent gland. He didn’t know much about rejection sickness, but from what he learned in school one way to cure it was through comforting touch and scents. Eddie barely moved and didn’t acknowledge Steve at all. Steve was having a hard time staying calm but the whines and howling of his omega were helping him to stay focused.

H is shivering finally subsided and Eddie fell into a light haze. He pulled back from Steve and his eyes were a bit clearer. “Stevie?” He asked. At Steve’s nod he threw himself back. He didn’t deserve to be held like this. He was a bad omega. His alpha didn’t love him and it was all his fault. Steve didn’t let him get far before he was yanking him right back in. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and nuzzled his neck. “I’m sorry Steve. I should’ ve trusted you . I'm a bad omega.” He sobbed but Steve clapped a hand over his mouth.

“You're not a bad omega Eddie. You're my omega.” Steve said. He felt more than heard Eddie’s gasp and watched as his wet eyes widened. He reached up and pulled Steve’s hand off his mouth.

“I’m still your omega?” He whispered hopeful yet terrified.

“Yes, darling.” Steve replied caressing his cheek. Eddie put his hand over Steve’s and held it there.

“You still want to be my alpha? After everything I put you through?” Steve looked deep into Eddie’s eyes and kissed him on the nose.

“You didn’t put me through anything. I will always be your alpha. Even if you decided you wanted nothing to do with me, I will be here waiting. There is nothing you could do that would drive me away. I will never leave you.” He promised. “Let me apologize now.”

“No, Steve you don’t owe me anything.” Eddie said clutching his shirt. “I was the one in the wrong.”

“No you weren’t. I was scared. I didn’t stop to consider that I was stringing you along.” He bowed his head as tears finally spilled over. “I love you, Eddie. I never want you to doubt that. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I’m sorry the first time I said it was in an argument.” He grabbed Eddie’s face and tilted it until their lips were barely a millimeter apart. “I would never lie to you. I know why you would think that. Wayne told me. Just know, that the most important person in my life, is right here in my arms. Okay?”

“Except Robin?” He knew it was shitty, but he needed to know.

“No my lovely omega. Even more important than Robin.” He kissed him then. A quick press of lips, there and gone in mere moments. “Robin is my best friend and I won’t stop loving her or change how she and I are with each other. But you’re my future mate, and nothing is more important than you feeling secure in us.” Eddie surged forward and kissed him hard practically shoving his tongue down his throat.

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Robin or anything like that, Stevie. It’s just…” Eddie knew he had to let Steve hear some of this from him. “The pups constantly tell me how you two were made for each other and how it’s only a matter of time for you two to mate.” Eddie looked down. “I guess, with you wanting to keep it a secret and when I ask about courting you brush it off, mix that with Dustin asking me to find out if you’re secretly dating Robin and I thought it was only a matter of time before you stopped what we had and went with her. And when I saw you two together, I thought it finally happened and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me first.” His voice broke on that last word.

“Wait a second...the pups have been saying what?!” Steve yelled out startling the omega and causing him to whimper. “Sorry.” He took a few calming breaths before asking again. “The pups have been telling you that Robin and I are secretly together?”

“Basically.” Eddie admitted.

“No wonder you didn’t believe me.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t worry my love I’ll set the record straight as soon as I can.” He snuggled Eddie closer and kissed his hair.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with Steve. Not for my sake.” He understood that it may be hard for Steve since he had only dated female omegas before. But his alpha just rolled his eyes.

“I’ll put an ad in the newspaper try me.” He laughed. “It’ll say something like: I, Steven Anthony Harrington am courting and plan to mate with the beautiful” he leaned over and nuzzled against Eddie’s scent gland causing the omega to giggle. “Wonderful, remarkable, one of a kind, Edward Wayne Munson.” He nipped lightly at his neck. “I will don’t tempt me.”

Light finally returned to Eddie’s eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered. Steve knew he was thanking him for much more but Steve didn’t want him to feel grateful that Steve treated him like a worthy partner.

“No thanks necessary. I’m not going to hide any more okay? In fact, close your eyes.” he said. When Eddie did so, he reached into his pocket to pull something out that he fastened around Eddie’s pale throat and kissed him softly. “Open.”

Eddie opened his eyes and gasped. It was the most unique courting gift he’d ever received. Pure silver because he mentioned to Steve once that it was his favorite precious metal. The pendant was a perfect copy of his warlock with small rubies creating the red lightening. As he took a closer look, he realized the neck of the guitar was actually Steve’s nail bat. It was the perfect combination of them.

His chest no longer felt tight and his nose tickled as his blood orange scent began pouring out of his scent gland. It was faint, but it was there. Steve beamed and pushed his nose to the source and took a big inhale. “Thank you, Alpha. I accept your request to court.” Eddie said in the traditional manner. He pulled away. “I’ll give you something I scented in return once it gets back to normal.” Eddie promised. Steve nodded and pulled him into another kiss. This one was more heated and while Eddie did feel better and the sickness was receding, he wasn’t ready to go very far. He leaned back slightly but stayed close so the alpha knew he was okay. “Is it alright, if we take it slow?” He couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Whatever you need.” Steve said tilting his head up. “What ever you want. It’s yours.” He said more like an oath than a promise.

“I threw away your yellow sweater. I’m sorry. I know it was your favorite.” He admitted ashamed. Steve slid away and for a second Eddie thought he was leaving, but before he could let out a single noise of protest he was getting hit in the face with soft cotton. In his hands was the best thing he'd ever seen.

“Wayne said he saw you throw it away and figured you were just upset.” Eddie smiled.

“He knows me so well.”

“I’d hope so, he is your dad and all.” Steve said. “Speaking of, I’d like to formally ask him to court you. I know you already said yes, but it’s traditional to ask an omega’s parent.” Eddie beamed.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I love you so much. I want to court you and mate with you. I want to see you round with my pups.” Steve replied and laid down pulling Eddie with him. “I want us to smell like one another so there’s no mistaking who we belong to.”

“How long have you had this necklace by the way?” Eddie asked the pendant clutched in his hand.

“Since right after spring break.” He admitted. At Eddie’s raised eyebrows he sheepishly said “I told you, I’ve wanted to court you for a long time.”

The two talked a bit more about their insecurities and about Eddie’s past trauma with alphas. When the alpha that hurt him came up again, Steve growled. “Give me a name.” The fire in his eyes would have scared Eddie if it was directed at him. But at the moment, it may have made him a bit slick. He’d never had an alpha want to protect him like this.

“If I tell you, can you promise you won’t do anything crazy?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Steve said. “I promised no lies.” He defended at Eddie’s snort.

“You did, you did. Okay, just promise you’ll be careful.” Steve agreed to that and motioned for Eddie to continue. “It was Tommy Hagan my first senior year.” He admitted. The scent of burning woods filled the his nostrils.

“When?” Steve growled. Had he still been friends with Tommy?

“We started courting in August. The heat we spent together was in November.”

“You were the omega he couldn’t shut up about?” Steve asked. Eddie shrugged.

“I guess. Weird that he couldn’t shut up about me when he cheated on me with Carol.” Eddie said meekly. The faint blood orange Eddie was finally emitting was turning sour and he was trying to pump out calming omega pheromones to calm Steve, but it didn’t seem to be working well due to the dull nature of it.

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve said as he willed himself to calm down. “It’s not important right now.” He stood and pulled Eddie to his feet.

“What is important is getting you checked out by a doctor. Let’s let Wayne know and we can go okay?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded and the two got dressed with some difficulty since they refused to let go of each other. Steve wore his yellow sweater so it would smell like him again and Eddie pulled on his favorite band tee. On their way out of the trailer they wrote a note for Wayne and Steve walked Eddie to the passenger side. He opened the door and kept a firm hand in Eddie’s until he was seated. Eddie watched on amused as Steve practically sprinted around the car so they could spend the least amount apart as possible.

~ ~~

At the hospital, the Doctor that saw him last time was able to see him again. “Eddie, this one could have killed you if your alpha hadn’t come when he did. To help you get back on your feet it’ll be good for the two of you to spend the next 48 to 72 hours together. Now for cases like yours we have a new type of medication that can stop rejection sickness from getting worse once it starts. I’m giving you a prescription for that. And I want you to go back to taking the preventive ones for a while.” He looked between the two men knowingly. “I’d say until you’ve mated. After that, you should be okay to stop them. But, keep the emergency one on you at all times. It could be the difference between life and death.” He said before leaving them with a nurse. She gave Eddie some fluids in an IV that were supposed to help him return to normal and then they were on their way.

“So, what now?” Eddie asked. Steve took his hand again.

“Let me take you out on the town? Then we can go back to the trailer and cuddle?” He asked. Eddie blushed and his blood orange scent finally filled the car in full force.

"I'd like that."

@v3lv3tf0x @lexirosewrites Final part!

That's a wrap on this one. But I do have plans to write some Robin POV and what Steve does the next time he sees Tommy.

[bonefall]

what tagging system do you use for triggers?

I'm pretty bad with consistent tagging, as a fair warning. When I tag things, I usually just try to smack as many tags on it as possible.

I always try to tag these though;

Talk of pedophilia; Pedo mention, cw pedophilia, tw pedophilia

Suicide; Suicide mention, tw suicide, cw suicide

Abuse, cw abuse, tw abuse. I try to also tag domestic abuse or child abuse

Sexual content; Sex mention, cw sexual assault, tw sexual assault

The best warning that I can give you though, is that if it's listed on the Better Bones Content Warning List, there is a high chance it may show up untagged. The project is very interwoven with the things on that list as major themes; so tagging them all every time they come up is very difficult. Especially the violence and xenophobia.

I tried to make more of an effort when this blog was smaller to tag absolutely everything, but a lot slipped through the cracks and I would fire off short ask answers and forget something. So it's a lot more realistic to warn people that everything up on the above list may be untagged and I recommend not following if they would trigger you.

But so far I've been pretty good at tagging Pedo Mention, Suicide, Abuse, and Sexual Content, though.

[lacefedora]

Eyes in the Dark, Devils Minion Armandaniel

for @miwadake who requested Armand stalking Daniel post turning.

sorry this one took me a little while I was away from home -

Daniel can tell he's being watched. To be fair, he could tell when he was mortal too. They were good instincts to have as a reporter. Especially in war zones and the like. But this was different. At first he just thought it was wishful thinking. Louis was fuckin' right... the bond between maker and fledgling was very real. Visceral in a way that he hadn't been expecting.. He had felt Armand's eyes boring into him before, but now, Daniel could be walking through a crowd of hundreds but he knew it was him watching. He would talk to him sometimes. He knew Armand could hear him. He never heard from him directly though. No matter what shit Daniel said to bait him. And he had said a lot of shit to bait him.

Tonight though. Tonight he saw him.

It was just his eyes at first. A flash red-orange eyes in the dark, reflecting the light like a panther's. Daniel's seen his own eyes do that as well. It's a fucking weird thing to witness in yourself... But he immediately knew it was him. He had spent a long time looks at those eyes in those weeks in Dubai. Then he sees dark curls passing by him and he turns, Armand is gone before he can turn fully. He spends the rest of the night chasing shadows, trying to catch up with him. Finally he makes himself stop, starts looking for a meal instead. He bites his tongue, wishing he could scream at Armand. Either in his head or in person. He takes a breath... He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be a fucking creeper instead of talking to him that was his priority. It's simple enough to find someone to eat. Though he knows he'll have to be fast. He manages to lure his kill to an ally. He was in New York. It really shouldn't have been that easy. As he bites down he's so caught up in the euphoria of the blood on his tongue that he doesn't notices the other presence at first. There's movement and then Armand is just *there*. He's picking up Daniel's dinner's wrist and biting down on it. Daniel jolts back from his own bite when he sees him. "Holy shit man." He snaps at him. "What in the fuck, Armand?" He demands. Armand doesn't let got of his hold on the wrist. He just shifts, looking at Daniel and raising a brow as if to say 'why did you stop?'. "You... are such an asshole." Daniel says but dammit he is hungry. He leans in to drink more blood. He didn't want the fucker to keel over before he had the chance to drink his fill. Drinking from the same victim is an odd and intimate experience. Fuck Louis was right about that too. With the two of them drinking, it's a simple thing to drain him. Daniel pulls back, breathing a little heavy. His heart pounding, face flushing with the new infusion of Blood. He turns and finds Armand staring at him. Daniel stares back not sure where to start.

Armand reaches out and touches Daniel's face. His thumb swipes over Daniel's chin, then his lower lip. It takes Daniel a moment to realize Armand's gathering blood that he had spilled when he pulled back the first time. He's uncomfortably aroused when Armand licks the blood off his thumb.

"Dawn is close. Go home. I will dispose of the body." Armand tells him.

"Oh fuck no. I'm not leaving unless you swear I'll see you after I wake up. Otherwise I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight, Maker." Daniel growls. Armand looks tense at being issued an ultimatum. He would wait. Even if it meant racing the sun. He had left himself enough time to get home.

"I swear you will see me tomorrow after you wake." Armand says finally. Daniel curses softly, then nods. He steps back, heading to his apartment before dawn.

The next evening he finds no Armand in his apartment... disappointing. But he does see red-orange eyes down the ally he passes... baby steps.

[shitpostingkats]

*SHAKES YOU AGGRESSIVELY*

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR “Zarc is an incarnation of The Supreme King” THEORY I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS YOU HAVE GOT ME HOOKED I AM OBSESSED WITH THESE FIRE TAKES YOU ARE SPITTING OP

Jaden and Yuya are now my favorite dynamic of all time, and now that I’m being shown the similarities I’m wondering if it’s really just a coincidence GX and Arc-V are my absolute favorites out of all the Yugioh series this is insane 👀

Hehe. Gladly <3

(Uh. This got long so it's going beneath the cut for the sake of people's dashboards)

Well, first off, there's just a lot of similarities between Zarc (the original Zarc, before he split into the Yu-bois) and Jaden. Both can talk to duel spirits, both start out chipper and are driven to the edge by grief, both split into various personas/people (Jaden with himself and the supreme king, Zarc obviously into the Yu-bois), both fuse with their ace monster(s), and both carry the title of "Supreme King". Most interesting, to me at least, is how both shape a lot of their identities around what they think people want from them.

Zarc was content to be an amazing duelist, but felt pressured to put on a good show, to be more brutal. Jaden, more subtly, constructs most of his personality off being easygoing, chill, and carefree, because he internalized that his emotions are dangerous, and people would rather deal with happy Jaden than the emotional disregulation mess that he actually is.

And both of them, when they get overwhelmed, adopt a mentality of "Well, the world might as well burn with me."

Jaden, rather than feel his grief, locks off his own trauma behind a brick wall and goes on smiling. Yuya, rather than deal with his dads disappearance, does the same.

I'd also like it noted that supreme king Jaden and supreme king Yuya have yellow eyes.

And some teal/orange eye asymmetry

Honestly, even dragon form Yuya and the Supreme Kings armor have similar silhouettes.

Mostly its in the spikes on the shoulders and elbows, and the fact that Zarc Yuya forms a weird chestplate (and that this is the same art team and visual style)

Another thing I get hung up on is that both Jaden and Yuri have super poly. In GX, Jaden had to go through an entire arc of misery to get that card, and Yuri just? Has it?

So my little headcanon, is that in the original timeline, before the dimensions were split, Zarc had the spirit of The Supreme King, able to command duel monsters and wield The Gentle Dark. Unfortunately for everyone, he got a teensy bit traumatized before he could enact his destiny of defeating The Light Of Destruction. Using his powers, he fused with his dragons, nearly destroyed the world, etc, etc. When he split, the Supreme King couldn't just split into four the same way the rest of his soul could, and so while the dimensions split, the past was rewritten to attach the power to a different soul, with a different guardian to boot. Similar to how the timeline got all borked to set everything back to a late nineties world of duel monsters.

Which would make Yuya 1/4 of an alternate universe version of Jaden. And I think there's a lot of fun to be had with that idea :)

[frostise]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋

what if louise was forced to rely on her heightened thermosensation ability to track down her foes movements when they try to attack her from behind or maybe rely on her limited super strength that's enough to break a jaw or two if she wants to? what if that's taken away? what if she's actually powerless and has to rely on her battle suit or agility to stay alive?

frost will still be a powerful metahuman without her powers because T.A.B assigned kickboxing training if she ever found herself cuffed to power dampeners. despite the years of experience, she's not that great at martial arts like her mentor multiplex is. he proved to her the hard way that she had to learn to be competent during battle in a powerlessness state. louise wouldn't be durable enough to survive a fatal blow without her cryokinesis blocking the hit, so in this way — she'll have to recall danton's advice: “remain evasive and improvise the situation by utilising the environment and your enemies to your advantage.”

a great example would be m.otorball race scene part one and part two for a more visual outlook on her skill set ofc ^^

[demenior]

i literally do not remember if i've already sent an ask but if i haven't i would love to hear about the critrole werewolf AU pretty please! and if i have. then i would like to hear about it again anyway 👐

Check my list of current wips here and send me a title and I’ll post a bit or share some details about it.

The CritRole Werewolf au is a mighty nein werewolf au. I set it in a vaguely modern world, but... in the 90s/early 00's. I wanted it to have some Buffy/Blair Witch/Lost Boys vibes. Like, grotesque and terrifying but with moments of absurd humor and a really bitchin' soundtrack. The Brjeau's are, loosely, the main characters.

Beau and Fjord were the intro duo. They're amateaur ghost hunters touring the country's most haunted locations. They're using Beau's absent fathers' credit card to fund them sleeping in Fjord's work van and get them access to dope shit like handheld video cameras and microphones that Beau uses to prove the supernatural is real. (Fjord films/runs tech. He a) doesn't believe in the supernatural and b) is terrified of it).

They pair up with Caleb- a mysterious dude in a long duster coat with a weird accent who may or may not be a monster hunter, and Veth- who's definitely just some normal housewife who just so happens to hate werewolves and definitely isn't one. They join the team after a scary event where Fjord is lost for a few days in some weird haunted place/sacred temple to some old forgotten wolf god. Caleb and Veth want to make sure Fjord isn't cursed, Beau is thrilled to be proven right that the supernatural exists, and Fjord thinks this is all ridiculous. So what that he's been having some weird dreams? That doesn't mean anything.

(You can see where this is going).

To keep things reigned in, I tried to limit all the supernatural entities to just werewolves (save for Fjord's eventual eldritch horror wolf thing he has going on).

Yasha, Caduceus, Fjord, Veth and Jester are all werewolves. Some of them were born werewolves, some of them were turned. Some were turned willingly, some not(t). Caleb and Beau remain Team Human (though Scourgers are now werewolf hunters, and through grueling training are a weird almost "half" werewolf, so they can't be turned).

[iamnmbr3]

Ain't Thorki is a family ship between Thor Odinson and Loki....

Plz tell me you don't actually ship family

omg they're WHAT?! wow. I had no idea. thank u for letting me know. i thought the 9239432843824923890 times they called each other "brother" in canon referred to them being brothers in arms or something. i thought they were just really good friends who lived together in the same palace and both referred to the same people as father and mother. omg. can't believe I totally missed that. Thanks for sending this totally helpful and good faith ask to point it out.

I will definitely stop reading thorki fics immediately and will never post any thorki content again. Instead I'll just consume popular mainstream content like Game of Thrones. Which is totally fine. Bc it's made by HBO and thus allowed to portray problematic content without needing to be censored.

[tallglassofchoccymilk]

Me: brainrot? HAH. Not a chance

Also me: is currently on chapter 4 of Gosslate fic

[mugloversonly]

Silver over Gold

Chapter one: Cracked

inspired by: this

ao3

Summary:

Eddie goes to Family Video, giddy to see Steve at work. It doesn't go well.

They’ve been together for three months. After Vecna, he never thought he’d be this happy; but ever since Steve kissed him on his couch, Eddie’s been on cloud nine.

Steve had been acting weird that whole day. They went to the diner and the record store and Steve bought Eddie any record he wanted. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he would have thought it was a date. Turns out, it was because the next thing he knew Steve’s lips were on his and the two have been together ever since.

They aren’t officially courting…yet. But it was only a matter of time, Steve promised. Eddie can be patient though, especially since he’s seen him turn down every other omega that made a pass at him.

At the beginning of this whole thing, Eddie made sure Steve knew he wanted exclusivity. He’d tried the causal thing before and it did not go too well for Eddie.

Steve reassured him he had nothing to worry about, Robin was the only other omega around Steve’s age in their friend group and they were just friends.

He wanted to believe him, even though everyone was saying they were dating or would be soon. Henderson especially was adamant. He’d constantly tell Eddie that Robin was the girl Steve was going to marry and he secretly loved her. He even tried to get him to help figure out if they were secretly dating.

He wanted to bring it up but didn’t want Steve to think he didn’t trust him so he pushed his insecurities to the side and trusted this alpha with all of him. His heat was a few weeks away and the two planned on spending it together. Eddie was nervous. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but the last time he spent a heat with an alpha...well there’s a reason he’s never done it again.

But Steve, he trusts. He knows Steve will take care of him, like he’s been doing for the past few months, and make sure it’s a good experience. His omega is already purring at the thought and Eddie can’t sit in the trailer waiting for Steve anymore. He grabs his keys and goes to visit his alpha at work.

~~~

As he opened the door to Family Video, the bell chimes but the two employees don’t move. The first thing to register to Eddie was the scent of calming alpha pheromones and an underlying scent that stops his heart. As he stared at the two embracing in front of him, he knew now that he was a fool.

Steve’s arms were wrapped tight around Robin. The omega he told Eddie not to worry about, he said they were just friends. But as he stood frozen, Steve kissed Robin on the cheek near the corner of her mouth, and her scent flooded with joy. They were in their own little world as Eddie’s came crashing down.

Eddie’s normal blood orange scent turned sour as tears sprung to his eyes. He knew the moment it reached Steve because he looked up and gasped in shock. “Eddie!” he said. Eddie scoffed at the panic in his eyes and held back the tears. Humiliation filled him. He turned and bolted back out the door and into his van. Steve was running after him and nearly managed to grab the door before Eddie could pull away. He had to jump back to avoid getting his toes crushed. All the while he was screaming Eddie’s name but he didn’t stop, didn’t breath, until he was back in the government issued trailer. His chest tightened in a eerily familiar way and all he could think was not this again.

~~~

Wayne immediately noticed his anguish. “Ed? You alright?” Eddie didn’t pause on the way to his nest. He made a disgruntled noise and slammed his bedroom door shut. He looked at his nest and the tears finally fell. Steve’s presence was all over it. His yellow sweater was tucked into it, right near the top. It brought Eddie comfort the past few nights since Steve has been staying at his house. At least that’s what he said. But Eddie didn’t know if he believed that now.

Suddenly the idea of Steve’s scent being in his nest disgusted him. He ripped the nest apart and threw everything into the hamper, except Steve’s sweater. That he threw onto the couch on his way to the washer. Wayne watched concern written all over his face. He ignored his uncle’s look and threw everything into the washer. He poured way too much detergent in and pushed start. Then he went back into the living room and stopped short at the sweater on the chair.

He didn’t want to see it any more. He angrily picked it up and stalked through the front door. He threw it into the dirt and stomped away before coming back and throwing it into the trash can. There. Now he wouldn’t have to see it again. His eyes were still blurry when he came back in but he knew he needed to tell Wayne what happened. He sat down next to his uncle and slumped into him, tucking himself into his side as small as he could get. He didn’t say anything yet. He let Wayne hold him as he calmed down.

“What the hell happened, Ed?” Wayne asked. The older Alpha knew his son wouldn’t speak up unless asked.

“He lied Wayne.” Eddie sobbed. Through choking gasps and hiccups he told Wayne what he saw. “He promised she was just a friend. He promised. But he was emitting the same pheromones he does for me.” Wayne released calming alpha pheromones that soothed his nephew. There was a spicy scent of anger there too but Eddie knew it wasn’t at him. “He's gonna leave me, Wayne. Just like everyone else. What am I gonna do?” He asked.

“First things first, let’s build you a new nest okay?” Wayne said. Eddie nodded and the two went to his room. Wayne gave him the flannel he was wearing and the two set about rebuilding. Wayne always helped him as he was the only person Eddie trusted with such a personal ritual. Soon his bed was covered in blankets, Wayne’s clothes, and a shirt from his mom that had long lost it’s scent. He crawled in and began rolling around in it as Wayne tucked him in. “Try to rest kid. I’m calling out of work tonight so I’ll be home if you need me.” Usually Eddie would protest but he really didn’t want to be alone right now.

“Can you come back and sit with me for a bit?” He whispered. He felt small and like he was about to break. He needed his uncle’s presence even if he had to ask like a pup to get it. Wayne agreed and stepped out.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door but Eddie couldn’t be bothered to get it. He curled onto his side into a tight ball. The agony was unreal, one he’d unfortunately felt a few times. Rejection sickness.

Wayne gently opened the door, “Eds. Steve’s at the door. He looks right devastated.” He admitted. “Want me to let him in?”

“I never want to see him again.” Eddie whispered even as his omega cried out for his alpha.

“Son, are you sure?” The older alpha asked. Eddie turned to face him.

“Please, dad.” He choked out. Wayne nodded, ducking out back to the front door. If Eddie didn’t want to handle it, then he was more torn up than Wayne guessed.

He waited until he heard the front door close then he let his omega mourn. He’s always been more in tune with his hind brain than anyone else he’d ever met. It made him more likely to act on instinct but it also made it less likely he’d go feral. He usually loved it, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to fade away and let his instincts take full control.

When Wayne came back, he didn’t say anything. He just sat in Eddie’s nest and let him curl into his side. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out soothing pheromones: the same he released when Eddie’s mama died. It helped dull it, but it couldn’t prevent the sickness altogether. Rejection sickness had its tells, but every omega was slightly different. Unfortunately, Wayne knew all the signs in his nephew. It’s happened twice before: once due to his own father; and once due to his last alpha. Wayne hoped Steve was different but it wasn’t looking good.

Wayne resolved to let Eddie rest for a few days before he forced him to the hospital.

~~~

Eddie moved around the trailer like a ghost for days. After that first night, Wayne couldn’t call out any more, but he made sure to spend as much time with Eddie during the day as he could, even going so far as to sleep in the nest in a puppy pile. During the day, he didn’t feel too lonely. His heart hurt, but he was able to get out of his nest a few times. Wayne sent Steve away every time he came by or called.

But at night when he was alone, the rejection he felt knowing Steve lied was slowly destroying him. He ignored every ring of the phone just to be safe, and refused to answer the door. He spent countless hours digging through his stuff and finding every little thing of Steve’s and putting it in a box. He’d make Wayne give it to him.

He was stuck in a loop of endless thoughts, jumping from hating Steve for doing this to hating himself for falling for it...again. He thought Steve was a different alpha. He was always a romantic in school with his girlfriends, Eddie always hoped he felt as serious about him.

But he was wrong. And he was suffering for it while Steve was out there with a beautiful girl laughing about his stupid conquest.

His scent was fading. The doctor warned him after the last time that it would hit him a lot faster and harder if it happened again and recommended he take medication that helped lower the risk. Stupidly, he stopped taking them once he thought Steve was serious. Why would he need medication preventing rejection sickness when he had the perfect alpha in his bed? God he was an idiot. Maybe letting the sickness take him this time was better than fighting it.

He was pulled from his spiraling by a knock on the window. He tried ignoring it, but it was insistent. He jumped up and slammed the window open, planning on telling whatever sheep was there to fuck off, but he stopped in his tracks. Steve was standing on the other side looking as devastatingly handsome as ever, even though he was clearly angry. The omega whimpered as he unlocked the window before returning to cower in his nest while Steve let himself in.

“What are you doing here Steve?” Eddie asked as confidently as he could as his omega shook with fear. Steve stared at him for a moment.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” Steve stepped forward and went to sit on the edge of Eddie’s bed. Eddie growled at him and bared his teeth. It wasn’t particularly threatening against the alpha, but Steve took the hint and sat at his desk instead. “I came to explain.”

“You don’t need to explain, just leave like I know you’re going to. I should have known.” Eddie spat. “You’re such a liar.” The tears hadn’t stopped, but now they turned cold in anger. “Wayne told you I didn’t want to see you.” Steve sighed softly.

“I thought maybe he said that because he’s your pack alpha and he didn’t actually ask you.” He admitted.

“You told me you’d never leave me. Was that just bullshit?” Eddie yelled unable to contain himself.

“Don’t call me bullshit.” Steve growled, his alpha voice peaking through. Eddie shrank down, trying to make himself smaller and brought his arms up to protect his face. He didn’t think Steve would hurt him, especially with Wayne in the house. But he’s also never used his alpha voice on him.

“Get out.” He demanded meekly. Steve stood and for a second, Eddie thought he would. But instead he crossed the room and knelt next to the bed. “Do you love her?” Eddie glared, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Yes I do. Robin is my best friend.” Steve attempted to reassure. But Eddie didn’t want to hear more lies. The box of Steve’s things were by the door and he shoved it into his hands.

“Forget my number, knothead.” He sneered and strode out of his room ignoring Steve’s gasp.

Wayne was at the stove cooking mac and cheese when Eddie walked in, closely followed by Steve. “Eds? You okay?” He asked.

“No.” Came instantly and tight lipped. Wayne turned around to see the boys glaring at each other, but he noticed Eddie was slightly shaking in fear. He turned off the stove and crossed to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. His nephew calmed slightly.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” Wayne narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“No offense Wayne, but this is between Eddie and I.” Steve directed at Wayne though his eyes didn’t move. The younger alpha was trying to assert himself but this was Wayne’s territory. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eddie subtly shake his head. He calmly sat in his recliner and pulled a newspaper over his face, clearly saying act like I’m not here, but I ain’t leaving.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asked again. Steve turned away from Wayne with a scoff.

“I love you.” Steve replied simply. Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he grabbed an empty beer bottle from the recycling bin. He threw it as hard as he could at Steve’s feet.

“How dare you!” He yelled.

“She’s just my friend!” Steve yelled back, unable to reign in his alpha. He was trying to stay calm but Eddie wouldn’t listen. When he saw him flinch back, Steve took a deep breath, he didn’t want to scare him.

“She’s why you won’t court me isn’t she?” He screamed.

“No!” Steve exclaimed dodging another bottle.

“Liar! You kissed her!” He threw another bottle.

“On the cheek!” Steve’s nostrils flared and he scented the air. Suddenly all his anger evaporated.

“You let me fall in love with you. I told you things that I’ve never told anyone but Wayne.” Eddie threw bottle after bottle, until Wayne finally wrapped his arms around his boy. The anger was fading into anguish.“What does she have that I don’t?” He crumpled into Wayne’s arms. “Why would you do this? I thought you wanted me.” The two embracing men sat on the couch with the younger tucking himself into his uncle. “I thought you were different.” His eyes finally met Steve’s again. What Steve saw in them nearly stopped his heart. “I thought you were different, but you’re just like them.” Eddie could no longer see Steve. Lost in his memories of hurts past. “You’re leaving just like them.”

Wayne commanded the younger alpha to approach slowly. He did and crouched in front of Eddie. “I do love her.” The omega whined but Steve forced himself to continue. “She’s like my sister. She got in a huge fight with her friend and I was comforting her. I know how it looks, I do. But I promise. It’s not like that.” He implored.

“I want to believe you.” Eddie whispered.

“Then believe me” He begged lifting his hand to stroke Eddie’s cheek. At the omega’s flinch he dropped his hand, palm up in offer. Eddie didn’t take it.

“I don’t know what to do, Stevie.” Eddie whispered. “You promised you’d never leave.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Steve blinked a few times but didn’t move.

“Please, I can’t…can’t stand it...it hurts, Stevie...I...” Eddie trailed off. “I can’t do this right now, I need a little time.” Tears ran down his face again, his eyes drained of all life. “Don’t leave me just give me a little time, please.” Steve looked up at Wayne. He was at a loss. On one hand, he didn’t want to leave Eddie. But on the other, he didn’t want to upset him further. He was stuck in an omega drop and there was going to be nothing anyone could do if he didn’t snap out of it soon.

“You should get going Steve.” Wayne said. “Call in the morning when I get home from the plant?” Wayne lifted his eyebrows trying to communicate something. Steve nodded and stood to go.

“I’m sorry I hurt you Eddie.” Steve whispered. “I never wanted to do that. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, no matter how long it takes. I promise.” He left the trailer, clutching the box to his chest, and trying to ignore the sounds of broken omega and a lack of that blood orange scent he loved.

~~~

When he got home he called Robin. He didn’t tell her any details, but he did tell her it didn’t go well and made her promise to leave it alone. That night Steve laid in bed staring at the ceiling. His heart cracked open further as he thought about everything he did wrong. The ignored calls and visits, being turned away by Wayne; at first Steve thought Eddie was just mad at him. He used his alpha voice on Eddie in anger. He showed up half-cocked and frustrated; so blind by his need to clear the air that he couldn’t see the distress his omega was in. His omega needed him but he wasn’t there. He scoffed at himself. His omega. How dare he even think that about Eddie.

He loves him; but, he didn’t start officially courting him. He was so afraid of getting his heart broken again that he broke someone else. Because he’s sure now. It wasn’t just Eddie’s heart that cracked in the entry way to Family Video; it was his soul. His very being was crushed into dust by Steve. If he could have just gotten over his stupid fears, he wouldn’t be here. His...the omega wouldn’t be spiraling into a drop. He smelled as if he’d been suffering rejection sickness untreated for months but it had only been a few days.

Steve shattered the love of his life.

@v3lv3tf0x @lexirosewrites

[luxshine]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: ఎవడు | Yevadu (2014), Oosaravelli, RRR (2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Sathya (Yevadu)/Tony (Oosaravelli), Charan (Yevadu)/Tony (Oosaravelli) Characters: Sathya (Yevadu), Tony (Oosaravelli), Charan (Yevadu) Additional Tags: Body Horror, loss of self, Reincarnation, Possession, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death Summary:

Two men on the brink of death at the same time, in the same place. One wants to live, the other one wants to die.

Fate has decided that only one of them can survive, and which one will survive, but science has other ideas.

One body, two souls.

Who will be the real survivor?

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

thinking abou t. my silly axolotl and its silly interpersonal relationships. Seventeen from heathers isn't not cvwoop