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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

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Does Bruce Wayne's shop girl ever meet Batman 👀

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist | Part Four

Warnings: Cursing; attempted robbery at work; canon-typical violence

“Customer,” You manager warns. You hardly hear it over the rumbling in your stomach.

“Can you get this one?” You pout. “I haven’t been able to take my break yet and I’m off in, like, an hour.”

“...Customer,” She repeats unfeelingly before nodding you toward a man standing in front of a display case. You sigh softly, rounding toward them. You rarely get put on the evening shift, but whenever you do, it’s hell. You want the waiting customer to be Bruce, sure, but you don’t think that you could get that lucky twice. The thought of Bruce makes your chest flutter, and a small smile pulls at your lips.

You’ve seen him nearly every day for the past two weeks. He’s taken you to dinner at Taco Bell, McDonald’s, back to Chef du Roi (the two of you actually made it through the meal there—and it was pretty damn good), and to a handful of other restaurants. You’ve ended nearly every evening with a walk, some nice conversation, and a kiss or two (or a few) at your door. You’ve always wanted to invite him up, but Michelle is usually there—and you always forget to ask her to clear out or make herself scarce for a couple of hours. You get so caught up in Bruce when you’re with him.

“May I help you find something, sir?”

“Yes…” The man’s voice is tight and high, like he’s speaking through his nose. He turns before you can ask him to elaborate, and your gut swoops low with panic and shock as he turns to face you, the barrel of a gun pointed directly at your gut. “Your safe, if you would be so kind—Don’t scream,” He warns, brows raising. “Anyone notices us going there, just tell them I’m an inspector for the security company. Any sudden moves, any funny business, you get a gut full’a lead. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod slowly, almost on instinct. Your palms are sweaty; your heart is thudding roughly in your chest; your throat is dry, and feels as if it’s tightening by the minute. Your mind is racing, considering your exits, your outcomes. You don’t want anyone else in the store hurt—but if you try and raise the alarm, you’ll be shot—and you are so not willing to die for or at this job.

“Alright,” The man nods. “Say yes sir, and let’s be on our way.”

“Yes sir,” You parrot quietly. You take a step back, then whirl around, whacking and knocking a small mirror off of the counter.

“You stupid bitch—Pick it up,” The man hisses.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You scurry around the counter, scrabbling for the mirror. As you straighten, you nudge the silent alarm with your knuckle. You set the mirror on the counter, holding up your shaking, apologetic hands before gesturing him down the hall. “Please, follow me.”

You make it a point not to make eye contact with your manager—hell, you don’t look at anyone. You don’t dare. You’re afraid your fear will read too clearly on your face, and you don’t want to raise anyone’s hackles. You still don’t think if the way you nudged the button will even draw a response team; you don’t know what the man will do once the team of responders makes it—if they make it. You’ll have one more chance at the safe, at least.

You lead the way into the hallway, taking slow, measured steps. You reach the office, pushing the door open and leading the way to the safe. You glance back, your panic welling as the man shuts and locks the door behind you. You crouch down slowly, pulling the door to the safe open. You bite your lip, fingers hovering over the buttons.

“Go on.”

You can’t. You can’t—Christ, what’s the duress code? You hurriedly jab the first numbers that come to mind—9-1-1-9. The safe beeps three times, the small display light flashing yellow.

“Open it!” The man demands. You gasp, drawing in a wince as he presses the muzzle of the gun to your temple. You squeeze your eyes shut, gasping your apology out and hurriedly putting in the right code. The safe beeps once, light flashing green. You scurry out of the way as the man gives your head a shove. You push yourself into the very corner of the office, cowering as he rakes cash and repaired jewelry into his bag. You draw in steady, even breaths, swallowing thickly. If you can keep breathing, you’ll make it through this. You’ll be home in no time—you’ll be telling Michelle about the crazy day you had at work—

You go still as you hear someone pounding on the door. You think it must be your manager, but—

“Open up! This is the police!”

You glance nervously between the robber and the door. Damn, you wish they hadn’t said that; why couldn’t they just have busted the fucking door down?

“What the fuck did you do?”

Ice trickles through your veins as the man stands slowly; cash is sticking out of his pockets, out of his bag; he’s raising his gun to point at you.

“What the fuck did you do?” He repeats in a yell.

“N-nothing, nothing, I didn’t do anything—” You babble desperately, holding your hands up in front of your face. You can’t look anywhere else but at the man, and his gun—and oh, god, you’re going to die in the back office of a job that you hate—

You hear a crash!, and you scream, raising your hands to cover your face. You expect searing pain, but you feel nothing but the rush of wind. You shouldn’t be able to feel anything of the sort—the window is shut. Then, you hear the desk being shoved aside, and the grunts and groans of the robber. Opening your eyes and peering through your fingers, your view is briefly shrouded in black. You watch, stunned, as the cape of the Batman sways and bobs with his movements. You back up even more, pressing yourself against the wall as the caped crusader turns to face you.

Your gaze nervously sweeps his stormy expression—the darkness around his eyes, and the stern set to his jaw. Before you can say or do a thing—before you can thank him—he turns, breaking through the window. You jump up, stumbling over the unconscious robber, and leaning out of the window to catch sight of him. You can’t, though—he’s gone already. You peer into the night regardless, even as the cops bust into the room and demand the unconscious robber put the gun down.

You jump slightly at the sound of the knock on your bedroom door.

“Are you awake?” Michelle’s voice is muffled. You’re tempted to stay quiet. You already told her that you don’t really want to talk about what happened, that you’re just not ready. Filing the report with the police had been hell; having a microphone shoved into your face as by Gotham News as you'd tried to go home had been worse. You’ve just gotten off of the phone with your parents, and the conversation had been less than ideal. You’ve been planning on crying yourself to sleep.

“Your friend is here,” Michelle tacks on. You frown. Your friend? What friend? You don’t know who it could possibly—

“The rich one?” Michelle adds.

Oh—No—

“Hang on,” You hurry to call back. You stand, looking around your bedroom. Shit. Shit. Bruce Wayne is here, now? You haven’t had time to prep—to clean, to put on something cute, nothing of the sort. Oh, hell. What’s he doing here? Why didn’t he just call or text? This is the one time you don’t want to see him in person.

You hurry over to your mirror, peering into it. Crap. You swipe the tears from your cheeks, blinking hurriedly. God, you look like a damn mess. You neaten your hair, smooth your hands over your heated cheeks.

“Just a sec,” You call back again before you run over to the chair in the corner of your room. You sweep all of the clothing there into your arms and turn away, shoving it into the closet. You push that door shut before you hurry over to the door. You hurriedly flip on the switch for the string lights hung around your room, then shut off the overhead light. Maybe this’ll make how tired you look seem a little more romantic. You draw in a deep breath before you open the door.

Bruce is leaning in your doorframe, gaze set downward. As you pull the door open, he glances up at you, a smile on his lips.

“That was more than a sec,” He teases. You laugh nervously.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” You take a step back, nodding Bruce inside. “I wasn’t expecting you over, that’s all.”

“I was in the neighborhood, figured I’d stop by,” He says, beginning to stroll around your bedroom.

“You were in this neighborhood?” You scoff, unable to help it. “Why?”

“Just needed to get out.”

“Made Alfred drive you?”

He smiles a touch. “No. I’ll have you know that he has the night off.”

“Lucky Alfred.”

“...Also, I, uh…” Bruce seems to lean in, peering at your bookshelf. “I saw something on the news.”

“Oh? Fireman help a kitten out of a tree?”

“...That,” He turns to face you, “And the robbery at the store.”

“Attempted robbery,” You correct in a mutter.

“Right, the uh…Batman.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

You should say yes. You should tell Bruce that you’re totally fine, and ask him to take you to Chipotle. You’re actually still quite hungry—but hey, almost being shot will work up an appetite, right? You should keep your answer light.

But the events of the day are still in your mind; your conversation with your mom, with her urging you to come to Metropolis, and to leave the only home you’ve ever known, is still running through your ears.

You open your mouth to answer him, but no words come out. You hear yourself loose a small, broken little sob. You raise your hand to cover your mouth, embarrassment bubbling up as you curl your arm around your middle, taking a step back. Before you can apologize, Bruce crosses the room, drawing you into his chest. You lean into him heavily, hiding your face in his shoulder. You shudder with sobs, fingers curling in the fabric of his sweater. Bruce doesn’t tut or tell you that it’s alright, or that there’s no reason for you to cry. He just rests a hand on the back of your neck, thumb sweeping comfortingly along your nape.

“...You better not be going into work tomorrow.”

The warning is murmured against your temple. You smile and sniffle, shifting just a little where you’re curled up against his chest. The two of you have been laying on your bed for nearly an hour now. Neither of you have spoken much. He’s simply let you cry it out. He hasn’t even grappled with the fact that your tears have left a damp patch on his sweater.

“I have to. I’ve got opening shift.”

“Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t gripe with him, though it would be easy to. You don’t tell him that rent is due soon; you don’t tell him that January commissions on discounted stock can be pretty damn good, and that you’re trying to save up to go see your parents in Metropolis. You just look down at where he’s holding your hand.

“It’s better if I go in right away. If I let fear keep me out of there, I won’t ever go back.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just brushes his lips against your forehead, his thumb sweeping the side of your hand.

“Tell you what,” He murmurs, “You’re braver than I am.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. I’m saying it.”

You chuckle softly, tipping your head back to look at him.

“Thank you for coming over.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Bruce murmurs, stroking his knuckles along your cheek.

“Careful, Mr. Wayne. I’ll start to think you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hardly the worst perception people have had of me.”

“How do you think the Gazette would take it if I told them that you can be quite sweet when you want to be?”

“Don’t you dare. You’d ruin my public image.”

Part Four

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Batman x Reader #Batman x You #The Other Half

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alwaysbethewest · 1 year

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Triple Frontier fic: Put Yourself in My Place

It's a fishben body swap fic 🤷‍♀️ This is for the @pedrostories 1000 follower celebration 🥳 I was browsing the prompts last week and felt a little overwhelmed by how many great options there were, but when I saw body swap listed in the tropes I knew that was what I had to choose. I also worked in two of the dialogue prompts but I don't want to spoil which ones.

Title: Put Yourself in My Place Pairing: Frankie Morales/Benny Miller Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.1k Content/warnings: Friends to lovers, body swap, big dick Frankie, oral sex, anal sex (the sex is while body swapped, just to be clear), mysterious magical objects, Pope gets threatened with bodily harm, brief cameos by Frankie's ex-wife and daughter, food, just absolute nonsense. Unbetaed (please let me know if you spot any typos!) I had a lot of fun writing this, lol, so I hope it will be a fun read.

The phone buzzing on the nightstand awakens Frankie. Groggily, he grabs it and checks the caller ID.

It’s a glitch. His own image fills the screen, an old picture of him with the baby sitting on his shoulders, matching sunglasses and baseball caps atop their heads. She’s grabbing his hat, twisting the brim so it’s nearly covering one eye, and he’s trying to keep a straight face for the camera as Benny gets the shot.

In his half-asleep state he’s so distracted by the picture that the call times out, only to start up again vibrating in his hand. This time he notices the caller’s name: 🐠Fish👨🏻‍🦱. Someone’s fucking with him.

He hits answer.

“Very funny,” he mumbles into the phone. His voice sounds strange in his own ears and he clears his throat.

“Dude,” the caller says, urgent. The voice is familiar but he can’t place it. “This is fucked. Up.”

“Who is this?” Frankie asks. He still sounds off and he’s got a bad feeling brewing down in his gut, well-honed instincts starting to scream for attention as he blinks fully awake. Something isn’t right.

The walls are the wrong color. Sunlight is filtering in from the right instead of the left. There’s a poster of Georges St-Pierre hanging nearby.

He’s in Benny’s room. In his bed.

Had he blacked out last night? He could swear he’d gone to bed in his own house.

“Dude,” the man on the phone says again. The voice almost sounds like— “It’s me.”

—himself.

Frankie closes his eyes. He’s starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“I don’t understand.”

“Francisco,” the voice says, “Go look in the mirror.”

Dumbly, Frankie stands and steps in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the wall by the closet. He looks at his reflection—and finds Benny’s shocked blue eyes staring back at him.

“I’m you,” Benny tells him, in Frankie’s own voice. “And you’re me.”

“What the fuck,” Frankie breathes. There’s a moment of silence between them as he tries to absorb the vision of himself standing here in someone else’s body.

“You know whose fault this is,” Benny starts.

Frankie blinks, curling Ben’s long fingers into a fist. He thinks about it, just for a second.

“Pope,” he says. There’s a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Fucking Pope,” Benny agrees.

Benny-in-Frankie’s-body drives Frankie’s car over to his own apartment, where Frankie has the bizarre experience of opening the door to find himself standing in front of him. After a brief discussion in which Benny insists he probably could fly a helicopter, no problem, Frankie puts his foot down and hovers over his shoulder as Benny calls him in sick to work.

Then they get Santiago on a video call. He’s sitting at his kitchen table and he answers them casually through a crunchy bite of cereal. “Hey, fellas. What’s happening?”

“You’re an asshole,” Benny tells him flatly. Pope raises an eyebrow and takes another bite of cornflakes, waiting for elaboration.

“I told you there was something hinky about that shit you had us moving yesterday,” Frankie says, “and you swore up and down everything was fine.”

Pope tilts his head, confused. “I thought it was just Fish who was complaining about it. You didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly,” they say in unison.

“It was Fish,” Benny says.

“Me,” Frankie continues, pointing to himself. He gestures between them. “We woke up… like this.”

“I think I’m missing something, boys,” Pope says. He sets down his spoon and picks up a mug from the table.

“We fucking swapped bodies,” Benny exclaims, and the whole thing is almost—almost—worth it to watch Santiago choke and splutter on his mouthful of coffee.

“Okay,” he says, still coughing but mostly recovered. His eyes shift uneasily. “Okay, uh. Okay. I need to make a phone call. Do you… do you remember anything you… touched?”

They’re both silent for a beat, staring at him like he’s stupid.

“We touched everything,” Frankie says finally. “That’s the point of moving shit from point A to point B.”

“Right. Okay. Right.” Pope lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s probably—I’m sure this is going to be fine. I need to call—” and he’s hung up before he can even finish the sentence.

Fucking Pope.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” Benny asks.

They’re still at his place. Pope had texted a little while after their phone call, Looking into it. Sit tight. Maybe an hour, and then, like a coward, left them on read when they’d replied with more questions. Frankie has been spending the time rifling through Ben’s kitchen—his metabolism is higher in this body and once he’d gotten past the initial shock of their situation he’d been hit with the kind of hunger he hasn’t felt since his active service days. Benny has spent most of the time looking at his own reflection, poking and prodding at his face and fussing with the texture of his hair.

(“What if I shave my head while I’m you?” he’d mused earlier.

“What if I rob a bank while I’m you?” Frankie had countered.)

Now, Frankie stares at him over his bowl of oatmeal. “I don’t think I heard you right,” he says.

Benny stretches a leg out to hook under the crossbar of the chair across from his, looking annoyed when he doesn’t quite make the distance. “I’m not short,” Frankie says preemptively, for the third time this morning. Benny pulls a face.

“No but—haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep with yourself?” he asks earnestly.

Frankie looks at him—at his own face, the full curve of his bottom lip and the broad stretch of his shoulders under the old t-shirt Benny had put on—and he does start to wonder. He clears his throat, shifting his weight.

“I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well. I’m just saying. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“Unless we’re stuck like this forever,” Frankie says, and Benny gives him a look that says that’s not helping.

“Maybe if we come at the exact same time it’ll switch us back,” he suggests.

“Benjamin. What??”

Benny shrugs, but he’s laughing, too. “If I was an ancient evil wizard cursing an amulet that’s how I’d configure it. Just to fuck with people.”

Frankie shakes his head at the absurdity of this entire day, and the last two minutes in particular.

But—

“Amulet?”

Benny’s eyes shift.

“I just thought—remember? We touched it at the same time when I was showing you the design. And it had that inscription we couldn’t make out.”

“Jesus,” Frankie says. “Yeah. You didn’t want to mention this earlier?”

Benny shrugs. “I didn’t think of it until just now.”

Frankie unlocks Benny’s phone with facial recognition and texts Pope again. We think maybe it was an amulet?????? Blue stone w strange writing around edge. Tarnished chain.

Together, they stare at the screen for a minute until Pope sends back a thumbs up reaction.

“I swear to god,” Frankie says, “If he doesn’t get us switched back I’m never speaking to him again.”

Benny nods distractedly and drums his fingers on the table. It’s as if the movement catches his own attention, because he looks down and rubs his thumb over the bullseye tattoo on his hand.

“So do you want to?” he asks. Frankie cocks his head and Benny offers up a vague, filthy gesture by way of explanation.

“You want to blow me?” Frankie interprets. He’s still not sure if Ben is serious or just fucking around. But his response is an enthusiastic nod, warm brown eyes widening earnestly, and Frankie feels a hit of arousal course through him.

He hesitates. “Wouldn’t it be kind of… narcissistic?”

“So what? When has a little narcissism ever hurt anyone?”

Frankie laughs out loud. “Well—for one, there was Narcissus.”

Benny is already sinking to his knees.

“Wait,” Frankie says. “Don’t do that.”

He hesitates, looking chastened.

“You’re gonna fuck up my knees,” he tells him.

“Old man,” Benny grumbles, but he carefully gets to his feet and heads down the hallway towards his bedroom.

And Frankie gives in and follows.

Benny takes a long time getting acquainted with his dick before he ever gets it in his mouth. He’s touching it lightly, moving it around, inspecting it from every angle. He runs his fingertips down the length, making Frankie tense up and shiver.

“It looks different from down here,” he observes. “Never realized that vein looked like that.”

When he finally does it—

Well.

It’s surreal watching his own mouth close around the head of his cock—like watching a porno of himself. He’s holding his breath, and it comes out shaky when Benny works his tongue over the tip.

Benny’s gaze flicks up to meet his and they lock eyes. Frankie lets out a breathless, nervous laugh and it sets Benny off laughing too, a shared moment of euphoric insanity, but then he surges down onto the length of Frankie’s cock again and Frankie’s no longer laughing.

He’s called Ben a cocksucker before—a crude, boys will be boys insult among friends, and Benny’s called him worse things in return with no hurt feelings between them. Now that it’s come true, he’s surprised to find Benny’s not half bad at this. At least, not while equipped with Frankie’s mouth. He can’t help but wonder if they might do this again so he can compare, if they switch back.

When. Not if. Under the haze of arousal that’s overtaken him, there’s still a knot of anxiety sitting in the bottom of his stomach, distracting him.

Ben presses a knuckle behind his balls, nudging into the space there and using his other hand to push Frankie’s legs open like he wants to reach back further. Frankie hesitates, shifting away, and Benny looks up at him.

“Uh—that doesn’t really do anything for me,” Frankie explains.

“What d’you mean?”

“Like…” He wiggles his forefinger. “Anything with my ass. My ex tried to finger me one time because she said it was going to be the best orgasm of my life and it just—felt like a visit to the proctologist.”

Benny is silent, looking at him thoughtfully from between his legs. Frankie’s cock is starting to feel neglected.

“What if… since you’re in my body, it feels different this time? Can I try?”

Frankie shrugs his assent.

It turns out that, kind of like the active metabolism thing, the nerve endings in Ben’s body are sensitive in a way Frankie’s not used to.

“I’m so—fucking jealous of you,” he gasps, when Benny has two thick fingers buried deep inside him. “I never knew it could feel like this.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Benny says smugly, a little muffled with his mouth hot against Frankie’s balls. “Do you wanna find out what your dick feels like?”

With Benny’s fingers inside him and his face between his legs, Frankie feels tingly all over, almost dizzy from it so that it takes him a moment to answer the question.

“I—yeah, kind of. That’s weird, right? This is weird.”

“Super fucking weird,” Benny agrees with a laugh. It’s funny to see his smile lighting up Frankie’s face. He wonders at it, while Benny’s focused on grabbing the lube stashed by his bed, trying to work out which parts of his face are his and what is Benny shining through. Transforming him into someone altogether new.

“Oh shit, that’s big,” Frankie gasps when Ben pushes into him, clutching hard onto his forearm.

Benny laughs silently. “How many girls have you heard that from before?”

“I always thought they were—stroking my ego,” Frankie says, breathing out a laugh. Benny grins, cheek dimpling.

“Try to relax,” he says. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want to stop.”

They’re not making love—that would be beyond the level of super fucking weird they’re already at—but it’s what Frankie would call this if they were a couple. Benny fucks him slow and careful and full and distracts him by leaning in for a kiss. It’s totally surreal, and somehow oddly comfortable at the same time, kissing his own mouth. Realizing he’s tasting Benny on his lips and deepening the kiss without even thinking about it. Feeling the anxious tension in his gut dissolving into something hot and dangerous, pleasure like the high of a drug.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers, and Benny makes a low noise in his throat and hides his face against his neck, tickling Frankie’s skin with the brush of his mustache. He closes his eyes and gives himself over to the waves of euphoria, and in the end, improbably, they do come together at the exact same time.

It doesn’t change them back.

Frankie’s phone lights up with a text. They both scramble to look, hoping to see Santiago’s name on the screen, but it’s from Laura, Frankie’s ex-wife.

Stuck at work, she’s written, adding a dismayed emoji. Any chance you’re able to do the preschool pickup and watch M for an hour or two? I can get her from your place.

“You’ll have to come with me,” he tells Benny. “They don’t hand over the kids to any random guy that shows up.”

His daughter grins when she sees them, but she falters as she draws closer, looking between the two of them skeptically like she can tell something is up.

“Hey, Minneola,” Benny greets her. She wrinkles her nose at the nickname and gravitates towards Frankie, who picks her up. There’s not even a twinge in his lower back, he realizes. He might be happy stuck in this body after all.

“You have a good day, baby?” he asks her. She rides comfortably in his arm, talking his ear off about the butterfly-themed craft her teacher had led the class in, and Benny saunters along beside them as they make their way back out to the car.

Whatever intuition his kid has that the man who looks like her daddy isn’t actually him today, her mother does not share. Laura barely spares him a glance when she swings by the house, a little flustered at the late hour as she collects her daughter and grills Benny on what he’s given her for her afternoon snack.

“Thanks again,” she tells him, leaning in to peck him on the lips, and she’s out the door again before she can notice the dazed expression on Benny’s face.

“I can’t believe I got lucky with two Moraleses in one day,” he says, when she’s gone. Frankie smacks him upside the head and then tousles his hair back into place, with a little more affection than he’d like to admit.

They’ve demolished an extra-large pizza and googled “body swap,” “body swap magic,” “body swap real,” “body swap historical,” and, in an act of desperation, “freaky friday real life,” to no avail when Pope finally—finally—calls them back.

“So my guy looked into it—” he starts.

“What do you mean, your guy?” Benny asks.

“My occult guy,” Pope says, as if that’s a thing. “The guy who owns the amulet you touched.” Frankie swears under his breath but Pope continues on as before. “So, it took him a while to track down the information about that exact artifact, but he found it and it’s good news.”

The ball of anxiety that has been twisting itself up in Frankie’s system all afternoon as the hours had passed very slowly begins to unwind.

“It’s like a 24-hour bug,” Pope continues brightly. “You’ll just switch back again by tomorrow. No harm, no foul.”

Benny and Frankie exchange a look that makes it clear they both still fully intend to exact revenge on Pope for putting them in this position to begin with.

“Between you and me,” he continues, oblivious, “this guy is a little out there—”

“No shit,” Benny says dryly.

“—he kept saying something about a ‘soul bond’ that I didn’t totally understand, but the final word was, like I said, everything will be back to normal.”

Soul bond is a heavy phrase to hear mere hours after having what was supposed to be very casual, platonic sex with a friend while he just so happened to be inhabiting your own body. Frankie feels Ben’s eyes on him and busies himself by gathering the mess of pizza-stained paper napkins on his coffee table into a single, scrunched up pile.

“Thanks, Pope,” Benny says after a moment. “If your guy is wrong, just so you know, we’re gonna kill you.”

“10-4,” Pope says, and makes quick work of hanging up the phone.

“Maybe I should sleep here tonight?” Benny suggests. “So we know it works. Like. In case there’s a… proximity thing,” he finishes lamely.

“Yeah,” Frankie says. “That makes sense.” It doesn’t, really, since they were in their own houses for the first switch, but he feels antsy with anticipation and, if he’s honest, he doesn’t really want to be alone right now. He thinks Benny doesn’t either.

The sun is barely risen when he wakes up, just dim light starting to break through around the edges of his blinds. His heart is racing, like the adrenaline rush when your body jerks awake from falling in a dream. There’s a dull ache in his lower back and a familiar curve to his nose when he lifts a hand to grope at his face. Next to him, Benny is back in his own body too, one long leg draped heavy over Frankie’s. He looks younger, asleep like this—deceptively innocent, Frankie thinks wryly.

Benny’s eyes flutter slowly open and Frankie can’t quite look away. They stare at each other for a long moment and Benny gives him a small smile.

“Well that’s a relief,” he murmurs, voice all early morning deep. “I was starting to miss your face.”

“Yeah,” Frankie says. ��Me too.”

Benny’s smile widens and he rolls closer in the bed, face tucked next to Frankie’s shoulder and the whole length of his body pressed up against his side.

So just like that, just like Pope’s guy had said, they’re totally, completely, thoroughly, unquestionably, and entirely—back to normal. Not a soul bond in sight.

Benny’s hand finds its way onto Frankie’s thigh.

“I’m glad we switched back,” he rumbles sleepily. His breath is warm on Frankie’s skin, mouth nearly touching him. “But it was kind of cool, I guess, getting to be you. Anyway—now the next time someone tells me to go fuck myself I can say, I’ve been there, done that.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie groans, appalled at the bad joke. Benny laughs, setting his teeth into Frankie’s flesh when he tries to smother him with a pillow, and Frankie finds he likes that a little too much, so maybe—it’s a slightly new and improved normal, after all.

(mini taglist of a few fishben appreciators: @loversandantiheroes @littledozerdraws @littleferal @thirstworldproblemss @green-socks)

#triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales #benny miller #fishben #frankie morales x benny miller #triple frontier #pedrostories1k #my fic #fanfiction

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deathvsthemaiden · 3 years

Text

#smth abt this post I just found for ppl who aren’t Muslims to rb to be all like attention we swear and have sexual/food related content here #uwu so pwease unfowwow and enjoy ur widdle howiday #made me immediately wanna throttle someone? stop overcomplicating things I hate it here sometimes❤️#don’t ask me to elaborate it was a gut instinct and i stand by it. just be normal❤️#I get why some Muslims might find it helpful but on the other ya allah.#*other hand #update I have found words: if u follow an account u know what it’s abt and it’s annoying to be told like u don’t already know. also there’s #no need for ppl who don’t observe the holiday to be so over preoccupied w how they behave during it. like just. so overcomplicated and I’ll #bet a molar tooth that a non Muslim came up w the little infographic that prompted this post #except I shan’t bet especially so close to Ramadan but ygm #mine

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mariamermaid · 4 years

Text

Patronus-Protector

Sirius x Reader

Summary: Much to your dislike, your friends have been hiding something from you. Now it is your turn to find out what has been slumbering beneath the surface of the marauder group…

Words: 3.1k

A/N: requested by @divergirl9-blog Sorry it took so long!

Warnings: swearing, blood, little bit angsty

Patronus{m}, Latin- Protector

“Have they been avoiding you?”

Lilly frowned as you sat down across from her in the great hall. It was a custom habit of the two of you to do the potions homework on Tuesdays together. But your mind was everywhere but on the potions.

“What do you mean?”

“Don´t act stupid, Evans. Did James tell you anything?” You scrunched your nose and leaned a little over the table, so the red-head couldn´t avoid your glance. She held in for a second; James hadn´t particularly mentioned anything. On the other hand, the past times she had seen her somewhat secret boyfriend, there wasn´t much talking involved.

“Not really”, Lilly sighed and tried to get back on the homework. But you were too stubborn and took away her pen. You wouldn´t let this slip another time. “Not really? Is that all you got Lilly?”

“For Merlin´s sake Y/n, I don’t really know! He mentioned something about going to the Shrieking Shack.”

It was your turn to furrow your brows in confusion. “What do they want there?” You asked muttering more to yourself. Lilly rolled her green eyes, until they landed on a certain dark-haired boy. You quickly followed her glance, finding Sirius standing across the hall. It seemed like he had either watched, maybe even eavesdropped, but before you could further question the whole situation, he left the hall with hasty steps.

“You´re done, Black”, you cursed as you hurried after him and to hell with the homework, which you left behind.

Lilly watched as you left, her head back in her hand. “Young love.”

It was no secret to her that you felt a little more than just friendship for the heartbreaker boy. It was also no secret, that Sirius Black was only heartless until it came to you.

There was no thing he wouldn´t do for you, much against his own denial. However, Sirius was best at one thing; protecting you. Mostly, from himself.

Oh yes, he wouldn´t trade your long friendship for anything or anyone, but his craving to feel your soft lips on his, was getting stronger by the day. The fear of breaking in took away his sleep. But as the time the night came, he realized the empty spot in the bed next to him. However, he decided on the empty spot, instead of losing you forever. He had determined years ago, his purpose to protect you was greater than his pain.

You made it hard though. Especially as you ran after him through the halls, after he was explicitly advised not to talk to you with the upcoming full moon. It would be hard to contain Remus and James couldn´t babysit a werewolf and an Animagus at the same time. Especially, if said Animagus was only focused on protecting the girl he loved.

“Sirius!”

He ignored you.

“Sirius Black if you do not stop running, I´ll hex you!” Finally, he stopped in his tracks. So abruptly, you almost ran right into him.

“For Merlin´s sake, you better tell me what is going on!” You scolded him angrily. He avoided your eyes, staring out of the window instead.

“I don’t know-“

“Don´t!” You became angrier by the second, but beneath all that anger was hurt. Why didn´t he tell you? What had you done, that made him loose trust?

“Don´t do this, Sirius. We don´t have secrets from each other, I´ve known you my entire life. If I did something wrong-“

It was his time to cut you off.

“You didn´t do anything wrong!” He assured you quickly and you sighed, as he finally starred into your mellow face.

“But clearly something is wrong and as long as you prefer to keep it from me, instead of letting me help, you can shove our friendship up your ignorant ass!”

He wanted to prevent exactly what just happened; you getting hurt. But you were hurt and his actions felt like betrayal to you.

Angrily and gloomy, you left him standing in the empty hall.

For the next two days, neither of the marauder´s saw much of you. Lily, who shared her room with you was the only one. Sirius, who had given up on trying, after your recent fight, only watched you from afar. Both James and Remus attempted to catch you after class, but you slipped away and hurried back into safeties of your room. All of them worried about the silence that hung like dark thunder clouds, but the full moon was approaching fast. They had bigger worries.

It was on the second day of your oppressive silence; night was approaching and your stomach growled in hunger. You had skipped dinner in order to evade James and Peter, who sat with Lilly. It was weird seeing them without Remus or Sirius, but you hadn´t given it much thought. They were probably up to no good as always.

But as you snuck out your room hoping to get at least a late-night snack, you heard toned down voices. Waiting at the end of the stairs of the common room, you listened to James and Peter.

“Come on, Potter! You can always talk to your girl, but we have to get going now! Sirius will need our help.”

James sighed defeated. “If this continues, Lilly won´t talk to me just like Y/N.”

“If Sirius would´ve acted a little more elaborated, she wouldn´t be as pissed as she is. That boy knows how to charm every girl, but her.”

James snickered at Peter´s comment. “You´re right, let´s go!”

You had no idea what was happening, but your feet acted on pure instinct as you hurried after the two boys. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

They left the school building and you had trouble keeping up, cursing at Merlin for their endurance from the quidditch training. You watched as they arrived at the whomping willow, hiding behind rocks and high grass, and then, they disappeared.

How did the old willow not even attempt to crush them? You eyed the plant structure from a safe distance, analyzing where James had previously stood. Something was there, you couldn´t fully make it out, but James had leaned down a little to touch the willow.

“For Merlin´s sake, those boys will be the death of me!”, you cursed whispering as you hurried to the willow. Hastily and purely relying on hope, you searched the plant for anything. It was your luck, that you found the knot at the base and a secret passage opened up.

Your mouth slightly opened and quietly you admitted, that the marauder weren´t completely stupid. At least not all the time (often enough though). It was a rather awkward slide into the passage, but luckily, James and Peter were already more far off and they didn´t hear your stumbling.

It didn´t take long until you found yourself at the shrieking shack, slowly the pieces were put together. However, you already heard loud voices coming from inside.

At this point, your gut feeling took over your prudence and you hurried inside, following the yelling. Screams from all of the marauders echoed through the old shack and you panted, when all kind of horrible scenarios came to your head. Argument or not, they were your friends and you´d do everything to protect them. With your wand safely in your hand, you entered the large room, but what came to your view wasn´t at all what you had expected…

At the back of the stone wall was Remus… But he wasn´t himself.

In the rise of the silver full moon his eyes turned savage and fur crawled across his skin until he was fully covered. You heard the breaking from the metal chains as he rose from the ground, taller than ever before. A gasp left your lips, which brought all the attention to you.

“Remus!”

James, Sirius and Peter exchanged quick looks, it wasn´t their first battle against the full moon, but this time you were a new meeple in the game. James and Peter lunged forward, trying to keep Remus, who was in full werewolf mode, back and Sirius ran to your side. “What are you doing here?” He asked furious and your head snapped at him.

“Me? You were the one lying to me! I wouldn´t have come, but you were hiding something from me!”

“I wasn´t!”

“Uhm, how about Remus being a werewolf?”

“I wanted to tell you!”

Your argument was interrupted as both James and Peter were thrown against the wall, Remus was on the loose. Sirius who had positioned himself safely in front of you, let out a growl as well.

In the next second, he jumped forward, his clothes ripping and when landing, the four paws scratched across the wooden floor. Yes, you had spent many hours cuddled together with Sirius in his hound form, watching sunsets and sometimes sunrises as well. But it was the first time, you witnessed him other than an adorable dog. This time, he truly seemed dangerous.

Not only he, but Remus as well and you felt fear growing. You didn´t know what they were capable of. Barely realizing how Peter grabbed your arm to pull you back from the fight, you watched as the two shadow figures began battling.

“Y/n stay back”, Peter tried to remind you, but you too captivated. Both he and James couldn’t do much, until Sirius was thrown against a nearby dresser, which fell to pieces. Sirius bellowed in pain and while James tried to help the hound pack on his feet (or paws), you placed yourself right in between him and Remus.

“Remus, remember who you are! We´re your friends!” You exclaimed, but aimed with your wand right at him. No one hurt your friends and seeing Sirius down, felt like a wakeup call.

Remus however didn´t listen and as he made another step closer to you, you were left no choice.

“Stupify!”

The red light bathed the dim room, but then the darkness crawled back into the corners and your senses. Your eyes had to adjust again, but then he was suddenly right in front of you. A sharp pain emerged, as you held up your arms to protect your body and head, then you felt yourself hitting the ground. Everything was spinning, you had lost your wand and burning red liquid ran down your outer, lower arms. Screams echoed further in the shallow room and you did your best to concentrate. Sirius´s dark shadow lunged off the ground and threw Remus back down, howling and growls cut through the air. But the two of them disappeared in blurriness. Two pair of arms grabbed your side.

“Y/n, can you hear us?” James´s distant voice rang through your mind; you formed a faint nod.

Peter starred at the continues blood stream.

“James, she´s losing a lot of blood, we need to get her to the infirmary.” Peter quietly explained and shock as well as fear was clearly written in both of their faces. “What about them?”

James felt like vomiting at the sight of your injury and feared the fact, that you were zooning out more and more. But Sirius had Remus pinned down, and Peter carefully, but rapidly put your arms around James.

“Get her to the infirmary, I´ll help Sirius in tying him down, go!”

It was at the edge of your consciousness as you felt yourself leaning against James, while he tried his best to get you through the dark, dirty passage. Then, before you reached the light of the moon again, you blacked out.

He had decided years ago, his purpose to protect you was greater than his pain.

Now Sirius sat on the marble bench outside the infirmary. All he ever wanted was to protect to you, and he failed miserably. Deep, dark circles from lost sleep were seen under his matt eyes. It had been almost two days since the incident and he had not the slightest idea, how James had explained the entire situation. Madame Pomfrey sure had enough to do as he carried you in, in the middle of the night with blood dripping on the way. They were able to stop the bleeding fairly quickly, but your body needed a lot of energy to fully close the wounds. As steps approached, Sirius looked up to find Remus; he looked just as tired.

He had lost all memory of the night, but seeing you pale and injured, hit him hard. He probably hadn´t slept as well. “She´s not awake?”

Sirius didn´t answer, his sole presence was enough. On the other hand, he wasn´t sure if he could even face you.

“Lilly´s with her.”

McGonagall’s lecture was hard, but bearable. Lilly´s on the other hand, only created more remorse. She was right, if he had just told the truth, things would´ve been different, under control at least. A deep empty pit inside his stomach growled as blame remained. But the heaping pain in his heart was even worse. The image of you in the hospital bed had been like a trigger, that created an avalanche. It could´ve ended worse, he could´ve lost you.

Sirius felt like throwing up again as the thought crossed his mind. It was his biggest fear; losing you.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals. Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what attracts them."

“What in Merlin´s beard are you reading to me?”

Lilly´s head snapped up from the potions book, she couldn´t help herself but feel the need to entertain you. And maybe herself as well, while she held watch at your side.

“You´re up!” The red-head exclaimed excited and sat down on the bed next to you.

“How are you feeling?”

You let a small groan as you sat up a little higher, your limbs felt weak and heavy.

“Tired”, you offered her a small smile.

Your eyes traveled down to the bandages on your arms.

“Glad to see you didn´t amputate them.”

“At least you didn´t lose your humor.”

Then you found Lilly´s gaze again. “What about Sirius and Remus?”

She quickly shook her head. “You left us all worried and with terrible remorse, but we all survived, more or less.” You raised your eyebrow at her, questioning, but she ignored your gesture.

“I´ll just get them.”

Only seconds after, you heard steps approaching again. From behind the curtain came two terribly exhausting looking boys; your boys.

“You both look like shit”, you couldn´t hold back the comment and the three of you erupted in easier laughter. The tensions slightly shrunk. Remus was first to sit down next to you, guilt still hidden behind his eyes. But before he could even speak up, you shook your head.

“Don´t. It´s not your fault, you weren´t you.”

He offered you an apologetic smile.

“If I had told you the truth, or at least allowed Sirius to do so, this wouldn´t have happened.”

“Yeah”, you agreed nodding. “Better to remember for next time.”

Remus grimaced, still eyeing the bandages on your arms. “I hope there won´t be a next time like this.”

“If it helps, I barely remember getting here.”

Remus stayed still, but you carefully grabbed his hand. “Remus, I´m fine. Don´t beat yourself up about it, I forgive you.”

Finally, he looked up as well, nodding with tears in his eyes. It was a huge relief that he felt dropping off his shoulders. He gave you a careful hug. “I think I should give you some more rest, and don´t worry, I´ve been doing all your homework!”

Playfully, you hit his shoulder. “You should´ve started with that apology!”

Remus nodded at his friend as he left your side again, but Sirius remained standing next to your bed. You rose your eyebrow at him. “What´s wrong, Black?”

“Nothing´s wrong, you´re back and healing. It´s all that matters.”

“Something´s clearly wrong.”

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose; it took all his strength not to break down. “We could´ve lost you.” He paused.

“I could´ve lost you.”

“But you didn´t”, you wanted to argue, but Sirius turned his back to you. Nervously wandering up and down in the room.

“I should´ve protected you better”, he mumbled quietly, his hand roughly running through his messy hair.

“That´s not your job-“

“Yes, it is. I can´t take seeing you hurt. So, I need to protect you!” His voice became louder, almost sounding angry. But beneath the façade was angst and deep distress.

“No, it´s not! Your job is to be my friend, not my patronus! You shouldn´t have to hide something like this!”

Suddenly he stopped, his back still facing you and his hands forming fists. You saw how his shoulders rose and dropped from his heavy breathing.

“Maybe, if I can´t protect you as a friend, we can´t be friends.”

His voice was low and so quiet, you weren´t sure at first about the words escaping his mouth. You felt your heart drop at his sentence, a gasp coming from your lips. Your mouth opened, but no words came out and you watched as Sirius pulled the curtain back, leaving the infirmary.

No, you wouldn´t let this go. Not like this.

You threw back the blanket and your bare feet touched the cold ground. You didn´t care though, or about the thin layer of white linen covering your body.

Just outside the infirmary, you caught up to him.

“Maybe we can´t be friends!”

He stopped once again, not bearing the thought of turning to look at you directly. He felt tears forming and he didn´t want you to see him like this. Weak and vulnerable, unable to protect you.

“And you can´t protect me from everything, especially not heartbreak! Because, you, you Sirius Black are breaking my heart!”

Carefully and slowly, he turned towards you, his eyes still glued on the floor. Your voice was quaking and your entire body shaking.

“You were never just a friend to me!”

Swift, in a blink, Sirius was right in front of you, his hands cupping your face. Only inches were left and you felt his warmth breath on your skin.

“I never wanted to break your heart, all I wanted was not to lose you”, he whispered with his voice shaking as well.

“You didn´t lose me and you never will.”

Then you felt his lips on yours and you eased into the kiss. His touch felt welcoming and you inhaled his musky scent. You had been right, no one was able to stop you from falling for your best friend. But after all, you didn´t need protection; all you needed were your friends and your love.

#sirius black oneshot #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #Sirius Black #ben barnes #harry potter imagine #marauder imagine #mariamermaidimagine

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levihantrash · 3 years

Text

Not Hange, But Zoe

For @levihanweek Aug 2021 Day 4 prompt: childhood (one-shot)

Summary: After the war, Levi gets to meet Zoe—Gabi and Falco’s new friend in school. A leap of faith comes in the form of a small child with an abundance of questions and acute compassion for a person they just met.

note: kind of fluffy kind of sad (a hopeful ending tho)

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

For Gabi and Falco, returning to normalcy meant returning to school, in a part of the world that hadn’t been completely crushed by enormous, fiery giants. Strangely enough (to Levi), they decided to stay with him and Onyankopon for the time being.

“What’s your new friend’s name?”

Levi enjoys being a part of the children’s lives. They adapt more quickly and play with more abandon. Even when the weekly nightmares that bring them to huddle into his bed, he is more assuaged that the pain, with time on their side, will recede. Even if the memories never quite disappear, children don’t hold on to them with the steely desperation that many more adults do; afraid that without pain, they might have nothing left.

Falco hesitates, but Gabi barges in, overwhelmed with excitement and lacking inhibition. “Zoe! Their name is Zoe!”

“Zoe…?” Levi nearly stutters, grip tightening on the wheelchair armrests. Even Gabi registers his shock, faltering a little. Instead of keeping quiet, Gabi elaborates more, in hopes of soothing Levi’s inexplicable reaction.

“Zoe is so smart! I do a bit better than them at math, though they don’t seem to care about getting good grades.”

“Gabi I think Levi doesn’t want to—”

“It’s okay.” Levi stops Falco’s interruption with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Go on, Gabi.”

Spurred on by Levi’s go-ahead, Gabi goes on in detail. “Zoe has been reading a lot of history books lately, but the teachers won’t tell her where to find books about the war.”

“You know, the war we were in.” Gabi swallows, finding comfort by clenching Falco’s arm.

Falco chimes in with increased confidence. “I think Zoe would love to talk to you! They’ve been asking a lot of adults. Nobody wants to talk about the war… for good reason… I suppose.”

-----

Onyankopon sits across Levi at the dinner table, hearing what Levi had to say about his conversation with the two kids after they bid them good night.

“They want me to meet this kid called Zoe.”

“An unfortunate name…” Onyankopon muses sombrely.

“Who knows?” Levi contends, casting a quick glance at the tabletop where a photo of Hange Zoe sits. They had insisted on taking a picture together when they arrived at Marley. For the memories! To find out a camera works. An arm draped around Levi, they gave a peace sign as he stood stiffly, gazing sideways at the grinning commander. Levi remembers the flash of the new technology caused him to instinctively reach for the knife in his back pocket, before Hange promptly caught his hand in theirs.

“That’s the camera flash, Levi. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Levi grumbled.

“Oh, I’m sure you weren’t. I just wanted to hold your hand.” Hange chuckled, about to let go of Levi’s hand before he clumsily squeezed back. A tense moment is shared, dissipating into a calm intertwining of fingers. A subtle smugness spread across Hange’s face.

“Very smooth.”

“You said you wanted to hold hands,” Levi said, unable to look at Hange.

“You’ve definitely got my hand in a choke-hold there.”

Loosening his grip, Levi mumbled a quick apology. Hange only got bolder, tucking Levi’s hand into their coat with what seemed like a practised gesture.

“Will you meet Zoe?” Onyankopon asks, dragging Levi back into reality.

“What do you think?” Levi often asks Onyankopon for advice.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Onyankopon says measuredly. “Even if it’s Gabi and Falco who are the ones asking. I know you have a soft spot for them.”

“Who says so?”

“You literally let Gabi manically push you around in the wheelchair on a bumpy grass patch and let Falco climb into your bed at night when he gets nightmares.”

“They’re kids. What’s the point of getting mad?”

“Exactly my point.”

Levi sighs, staring out of the window and the darkening sky. “I’ll meet them.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” Onyankopon says, remaining concerned.

-----

“Hi, I’m Zoe!” Dressed in a loose t-shirt and an equally loose pair of shorts, the bespectacled child thrusts out a hand in greeting. Gabi and Falco stand around them in anticipation of the long-awaited meeting (they waited a whole day).

“I’m Levi,” he says in kind, shaking the hand, quietly amused by the enthusiastic formality.

“What’s that?” Zoe points at Levi’s scarred eye. He lets out an unsteady breath. The sweat that has begun to accumulate at his pits tells him he isn’t sure if it had been a good idea to impulsively meet an uncanny reincarnation.

“Is it from the war?” Zoe helps him by asking more questions, seemingly not minding if they got responses or not. As though giving Levi a choice, a way out of the hard ones.

“Yes.”

Without missing a beat, Zoe pursues another train of thought.

“Gabi tells me I look like a commander that you used to know.” Zoe, for the first time in the whole exchange, almost looks nervous, shuffling between their two feet.

Maybe Falco and Gabi told them what happened. Words elude him if he were to try to explain anyway. For that, Levi is grateful for the straightforward manner of children.

Levi pulls out a photograph from his shirt pocket and hands it to Zoe. It’s a copy of the one back at home, printed in a smaller, carriable version.

“This is the commander. Hange.” He leaves out the surname, as Zoe observes the photograph of the two of them carefully.

“Did you two fight the war?” With that question, Levi confirms for himself that Gabi and Falco probably didn’t tell Zoe the whole story.

“Yes.”

“Did you win?”

There is a difficult, necessary silence that accompanies Zoe’s inquiry. “I don’t think anyone did.”

Zoe nods, eyeing the photograph again.

“Is that your best friend?”

Levi never quite thought about the nature of his relationship with Hange, so he pauses, eyes flickering towards the photograph—at the hand hidden in Hange’s coat.

“Like Gabi and Falco?” Zoe asks, making Falco blubber in denial, which he does so whenever someone associates him with Gabi as a pair.

“Yes.” Levi decides. The best of many friends.

“Your friend looks cool!” Zoe hands the photograph back to Levi, peering at him with wide-eyed intensity.

“Will you tell me more about the war?”

Placing his cheek on his palm, Levi bends closer to Zoe. “What would you like to know?”

-----

As the day draws to a close, Zoe still has questions. The sunset closes in on Levi and his small, attentive audience.

“Can I talk to you again tomorrow?”

Though fatigued, his body worn out from the unexpectedly long exertion, Levi finds himself agreeing.

“Yes.”

“One more question, please?”

Levi obliges.

“Do I remind you of Hange?” Zoe asks, a frown forming within the wrinkle between their eyebrows. Levi registers the suspicion, unable to figure out its source.

“Sometimes.”

“Which part?”

“Your curiosity,” Truthfully, there was not much he could garner from a one-day spontaneous meeting. Zoe’s curiosity, however, was blatantly obvious. Nonetheless, plenty of children are interested in many things—it was not anything special, Levi internally assures himself.

Zoe pouts slightly, a troubled expression now apparent. “But I’m not Hange. I’m Zoe.”

“I know,” Levi says unconvincingly.

“Do you miss them?”

Levi doesn’t answer the question, preferring to gaze over their shoulder.

“I’m not Hange. But do you want to be friends?”

Raising an eyebrow, Levi tries not to sound too sarcastic. “A kid like you wants to be my friend?”

“Gabi and Falco think you’re very cool. They also think you could do with more friends.” Falco has the decency to avoid eye contact, preferring the scenery of his shoes.

“You don’t go out that much!” Gabi says, hitting the nail on the coffin.

The familiarity of Zoe still stings him in the gut, where the similarities make it appear like the universe is playing an awful, blessed joke on Levi.

What did Hange tell all of them, that day in the sweltering sun?

Let’s meet them ourselves. If they don’t understand who we are, we just have to teach them.

“I don’t really fully understand who you are and why you look so sad. But I hope to learn more from you, Levi!”

A leap of faith comes in the form of a small child. A spunky, talkative child with an unsatiated thirst for knowledge and acute compassion for a depressed man they just met.

Straining his hip, Levi reaches out to ruffle Zoe’s wisps of stray hair, tightening the rubber band that kept their ponytail in place.

“We have a lot to learn from each other,” Levi says softly, allowing himself this leap. Only this once.

Zoe gives him the brightest of smiles, revealing an open, toothy grin.

#levihanweek2021 #lhw2021 #levihan #day 4 #levi x hange #levi ackerman #hange zoe #aot fanfiction #fanfiction #hanji zoe #my writing #shingeki no kyojin #prompt #aot

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amjustagirl · 4 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat - prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky.

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks.

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home.

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her.

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not need the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home.

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground.

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery.

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital.

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’.

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip.

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face.

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap.

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands.

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand.

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs.

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight.

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings.

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes.

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’.

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor.

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when she would help me after physiotherapy’.

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour.

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!'

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away.

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint.

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter.

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home.

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest.

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him.

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly - Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers.

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart.

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise.

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses.

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands - ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet.

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go.

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind.

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie.

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side.

He hears the door close behind him.

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes.

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily.

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs.

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause.

The twins stare at each other.

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.

The door slams behind him again.

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour.

369 notes · View notes

vampiric-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Severance

Jasper x Reader

This is Part 4 of the Jasper miniseries. Here is Part 1.

Summary: Jasper approaches you one evening and tries to make things right - but between your fear and your lust, you find time to question the motives of him and the rest of his family.

Word Count: 5,057

“(Y/N), please come with me.” Jasper’s voice pulled you out of your shock. You never thought you’d ever see Jasper Hale standing in your bedroom. Sure, you’d thought about it almost every night, but you never thought he’d be standing there under these conditions.

“No.” Your voice sounded firm. You kept your breath steady, refusing to succumb to the hysterics that had preyed on you earlier that day. His molten gold eyes softened. He took a cautious step towards you, but stopped as you met him with a glare.

“You figured it out all on your own,” he spoke his words slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring you away again. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I will answer them for you. But before I do, I need to be sure we’re talking about the same thing. I need you to say the word out loud.”

“You say it.”

He exhaled sharply, “I can’t. I can’t say anything until I know you’ve put it together entirely on your own.”

It was there, lingering in your mouth, impatient to be spoken but afraid to drip from your tongue. “Va-” It wouldn’t come out. Just say it. Vampire. You were in love with a vampire.

“Please, (Y/N).” Was he serious about telling you the truth, or was this all a ploy to see if they could trust you? Did they send him here to kill you? All of this had started from your silly crush on him. Was it his job to dispose of you?

You swallowed hard, and then the word fell out. “Vampire.”

The word hung in the atmosphere, turning the frigid air so brittle it could snap. He glued his eyes to you, but you could only look at the ground as your cheeks burned. How silly it sounded out loud. You may as well have called him a fairy. Your teeth nipped at your bottom lip as your last shred of confidence diminished, stranding you with dread and anticipation for the mocking laughter that never came.

Jasper denied nothing.

“I tried to give you answers at school today, but you wouldn’t follow me.” He took another step towards you; careful and steady, leaving a muddy footprint in his wake.

“Are you going to kill me because I found out?” You looked at him then. He seemed so out of place, surrounded by your mess; and thoughts of dreams you’d had of him coming to your room like this contrasted with the cold reality that threatened to devour you.

“No,” Jasper stopped you in your tracks. “We aren’t like that. We’re different from our kind, we don’t hurt humans.”

“But don’t you… drink blood?” That brought your attention to each pulse of your heart. It made you aware of the warmth rushing through your veins; and how gratifying it might feel for Jasper if he sank his teeth into the soft flesh guarding your neck.

Jasper took another wary step closer to you. “Think of us like vegetarians. We don’t drink blood from humans, but from animals instead-”

“So, you bite neighbourhood pets?” You tried to lighten the mood, hoping to distract him from your growing anxiety with humour. Jasper returned a polite chuckle, seeming to understand.

“Think more like mountain lions and bears.” A sudden flash of delicate little Alice tearing at the throat of a mountain lion made you shudder.

Jasper glanced around. “(Y/N), please know that I understand your discomfort and I don’t want to worsen it, but your house won’t be empty for much longer. It isn’t safe to have this conversation here, and I know you won’t wait until tomorrow. Please come with me, and I swear I will return you safely. The minute you say you want to come back home, I’ll stop everything and make it so.”

You wanted to take the plunge—you were already alone with him, so how different would it be? But the thought of being the single human among a family of vampires—vegetarian or not—begged you to refuse. Though it wasn’t like the last time you had spoken to him; it wasn’t like when Alice or Rosalie or Emmett had approached you. This time, your gut fought its natural survival instincts and told you that the sincerity splashed across Jasper’s refined features rang true.

“I’ll go with you on two conditions.” Jasper held eye-contact; ready to abide by your rules. “One; you keep your promise and bring me home as soon as I ask for it.”

“Of course, (Y/N).” He gave you his word. “And the second condition?”

“I get to leave a note behind saying I went with you in case something happens. Neither you nor your family can touch it, hide it, or edit it. If you meant what you said about not hurting humans, accountability shouldn’t be too harsh a term.”

He followed you into the kitchen where you grabbed an orange sticky-note and began writing a quick message. “There is no reason for us to meddle with it. You’ll be safe.”

“You guys can’t steal it either, like I know you did with my notebook.”

Anyone else would have missed the quick flash of hurt in his eyes, but you caught it right before he masked it. “My family and I aren’t the evil people you think we are. But that notebook is evidence, and therefore a danger to our existence. We can’t have it falling into the wrong hands.”

You frowned, “I wasn’t going to…”

“We know that now, but we can’t risk anybody else finding it.”

“Is… Is that why you guys were so unkind to me? Was I close to figuring it out?” Despite the supernatural discoveries and truth, being treated like that by those so close to the guy you liked had stung you deeply. If you were correct about him having an emotion-influencing ability, it was likely he knew how you were feeling. Jasper didn’t answer.

“We need to go, now,” was all he said. You grabbed your keys as he led you out the front door to where his motorbike was parked on your front lawn. He passed you a black helmet. “I’ll answer more questions when we get there—whatever you want. I’ll stay by your side until sunrise if that’s how you want it.”

You took the helmet from him, grazing his hand on purpose. It was just as cold as last time. You took his hand in yours and held it for a moment. He didn’t pull away yet, and allowed you to press your soft, warm flesh against his icy marble skin. It was hard like stone. You turned his hand so that his palm was facing upwards and traced it with your finger; slowly grazing from his palm to his wrist, noting the absence of veins but the appearance of bite marks, similar to Bella’s; though larger in quantity. He pulled away from you, then.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner you can ask me everything.” He put his own helmet on, likely for the sake of appearances, and sat on the bike. You followed him.

“What, you aren’t going to turn into a bat and fly me there?” you asked as the motorcycle revved.

A genuine chuckle escaped his lips. “No, that’s a myth; and I didn’t want to scare you with our natural method of travel.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist as the bike took off slowly, building speed. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer you; not that you would have been able to hear him as you ripped through the wind, wondering if you were on the road to certain death. As hard as your heart was beating; both from the uncertainty and the physical contact, the smell of Jasper, of fresh citrus and some sort of flowery scent, made you never want to let go. You waited for him to speed up again, to give you an excuse to hold on tighter. The town of Forks faded away, your surroundings growing deeper and denser with forest. Before long, you could see the Cullen house through the trees.

It wasn’t at all what you had expected. You hadn’t thought of gloomy castles with dungeons or anything, but the openness of the architecture surprised you. The house was large and extravagant, easily worth millions. The bright colours stood out against the greens and browns of the surrounding woods; and the rectangular shapes and wide windows introduced a stunning, modern feel.

Jasper parked the motorcycle in the driveway, hanging his helmet on one handlebar. You copied him. “Are you going to tell me everything, now?”

“(Y/N), I’ve admitted to being a vampire and brought you to my home. Don’t you want to poke around?”

“Loitering outside the lion’s den is risky enough; there’s no way I’m walking straight in.” You spotted a log in the distance; blanketed in thick, green moss that was definitely not inside his house. He followed behind and sat beside you.

“What do you want to know?”

You didn’t even know where to start. Combing through what you already knew, you thought it best to elaborate a little. “Why do your eyes change colour?”

“They change based on feeding. When we’re full, they look like mine always do. But when we’re hungry, they darken.”

“So, do you… overeat or something? I’ve never seen your eyes look any different.”

He shifted his weight. “I prefer to be well-fed when in the presence of humans; particularly in high-density areas like high schools.”

Stupid question. “O-Of course. You guys wouldn’t want any accidents… Have there been any accidents? Have you ever killed someone?” When you asked him this, it was because you were embarrassed about asking such an obvious question. You tried to cover it up by rambling. So, when Jasper’s gaze lowered to the forest floor and his lips sealed shut, the shock of it made you jolt. He had.

“You’re getting scared. I can feel it. (Y/N) I promise that was a long time ago and as difficult as this diet is for me, I’m getting better and better every day.”

The next question shot out of your mouth like a bullet. “Exactly how safe am I with you right now? You’re getting better? Is it hard for you to be near me right now?”

“You’re very safe. The others are inside and will stop me if anything happens.” The way he spoke about the prospect of murdering you was so uncomfortably casual, like it happened all the time. It was as if a thousand disapproving eyes were glaring down at you, wondering what the hell you were thinking by coming here.

“When was the last time you killed—no—when was the last time you tried to kill somebody? Successful or not?” Bella’s bitten wrist was at the forefront of your mind as you waited for an explanation. “Did you give Bella that bite?”

“No, that was from another vampire. He’s dead now; but he drank human blood and went after Bella.” Jasper paused, studying you with his citrine stare. “This isn’t helping. You’re still afraid.”

“Am I already in danger because I know?”

Jasper slid closer, bridging the gap between you. “Not so long as no one else finds out.”

“I’ve told you I won’t tell anyone.” It hurt that he didn’t seem to trust you; like this entire thing was an excuse for the Cullens to follow up on your character. You stuffed your hands in your pockets and looked at the dirt beneath you; wondering if that was how the Cullens thought of you. Dirt. For liking Jasper, they probably hated you; Edward certainly seemed to feel that way. Perhaps their apologies only came once their rudeness drew too much of your attention? Little did they know.

“Other vampires,” Jasper’s clarification interrupted your spiralling mind. “So long as no vampires find out.”

“What about Bella? Is she-”

His next words slashed your heart like a knife. “Bella’s situation with Edward is different to yours and mine.”

The reminder knocked the wind out of you. It was the truth; the vampire you had fallen in love with wasn’t available, and you solving the mystery of his true nature would not change that. It would not impress him so much that he’d slide into bed with you and abandon the girl who—for all you knew—he had been with for hundreds of years. An unkind part of you wanted to kiss Jasper there and then; just to get something out of this mess. Or was it to prove to him you could be like Edward and Bella? A powerful urge to further insert yourself fought to take over. It couldn’t be that difficult. He wasn’t too far to miss. You fought back against the desire.

“Can we go inside? I-If that’s still okay… I’m cold.” You disregarded your fear about entering a vampire’s lair. Now, you wanted to see where he lived, and sat, and watched TV.

Your hands were still stuffed in your pockets, freezing. You wondered if they would be the same temperature as his now. You got your answer as he held your hands in his, gently helping you stand; ever the gentleman. Every instance of chivalry you had watched him perform for Alice ran through your brain like a movie. It was a habit of his time. His hard marble skin contrasted with your own soft flesh as you fought the urge to entwine your fingers with his; to bring your lips to his, to make him press you against a tree.

Instead, he pulled you up and then let go of you without a second thought. Shame weighed down your shoulders. He winced, not looking at you now. Your voice trembled. “Can you sense emotions?”

“Yes.”

Did that include lust?

You changed the subject, not daring to ask for elaboration. “When we go in… is everyone—are their eyes going to be gold?”

He seemed to relax as you said that; chuckling softly, like music to your ears. “Nobody is thirsty, so yes. You’ll be fine in there. They want to see you for themselves again, though. And there are some things Alice would like to clarify.”

Alice. Would she pull you aside and intimidate you? Stay away from my boyfriend or I’ll literally kill you?

You swallowed thickly, following Jasper up to the front door of the house. Inside, his home was light and inviting. The walls were painted white, and there was a lot of open space. Various paintings decorated the walls, including an enormous picture frame filled with a rainbow of graduation caps. Your lips curled as you got the joke.

“Where is everyone?” Knowing they were aware of your presence was startling, in a way. Could they smell you the whole time you were outside? Had they heard what you were saying? An overwhelming sense of dread consumed you as you realised who else would be waiting. Did Edward hear you contemplating kissing Jasper? You hadn’t seen Edward at all since the incident at school. He hadn’t approached you like the others had, and the mere thought of seeing him again after all his mind-reading made your knees quiver.

Jasper didn’t reply and continued to walk. You followed behind him, sticking closer than he probably would have liked.

Alice was the first to reveal herself, meeting you at the top of the white staircase. Her usual beaming smile was absent from her face as she looked between you both. “(Y/N), thank you for coming.” Bile rose in your throat; you wanted to throw up. Edward had likely told her about what you were thinking outside. You couldn’t speak and only nodded your head in response. You risked a glance at Jasper, who was staring intensely at his girlfriend; but Alice’s attention was fixed on you. She took a small step closer to you. Her usual voice, as graceful as wind chimes, sounded cracked. “Can I borrow you first?”

Jasper’s eyes were downcast while Alice’s held an edge of urgency. “O-Okay… Um-”

“I won’t be long, Jaz.” She cut through your mumbling, still not looking at Jasper. He nodded, jaw clenched, and walked past her, deeper into the house. Alice seemed to relax after he left and took your hands in her cold ones. “How are you feeling about everything?”

That was the last thing you had expected to hear from her just then. “I’m fine… considering.”

Her smile returned, adding sugar to her sweet, honeyed eyes. “I want to take it upon myself to explain what really happened. I’m sorry I lied to you at the café—but we have an important secret to protect and I just couldn’t-”

“I get it, it’s fine. But now I’m wondering, did I actually deserve it?”

“(Y/N), come with me.” She twirled around and fluttered down a hallway to your right. She led you to a room covered in everything Alice. Walking through the door was like having her entire personality punch you in the face at once. Like the rest of the house, the walls were painted white, and the ceilings were to the heavens. All-white modern furniture decorated the space; accompanied by some mannequins modelling some of Alice’s nicer luxury pieces by the vanity. White, floating bookshelves hovered on the back wall beside modern artworks and posters of fashion designs. Enlarged photos of Alice and Jasper in black-and-white decorated the walls on the opposite side. A pile of designer clothing was heaped onto the enormous, white bed on the left side of the room.

“Couldn’t decide what to wear?” You cracked a joke as you took everything in. Alice returned a smile.

“At least someone around here understands.”

Looking at the intricately designed headboard, the words left your mouth before you could stop them. “You don’t sleep in coffins?” You looked at her wide-eyed. Just because Jasper was okay with the stereotypes, it didn’t mean Alice would be.

“Oh, no. That’s a myth. We don’t sleep.”

“At all?” You looked between her and the gigantic bed, and then realisation clicked. A pang of jealousy twisted your insides as you understood exactly how the bed was used. You recalled Jasper’s old words. So, Alice and I will have the entire house to ourselves again, which is always a pleasurable time.

As if sensing where your mind was going, she changed the subject. “There are some things that I need to explain—with the truth, this time—I promise. Please, take a seat wherever you like.”

After seeing the bed and knowing what its sole purpose was, you couldn’t stop yourself from spitefully sitting right on it .. “Did I freak you guys out back then or something?”

“(Y/N), we know you’re already aware of what Edward and Jasper can do. My gift is seeing the future. It’s a little flimsier than what you’re imagining. I can see the decisions people make and then what the outcomes of those decisions will be. And I’ve been having quite a few visions about you.” You watched her, mouth hanging open, waiting for her to continue because you didn’t know how to respond to that. What had she seen? What decisions had you made without realising? Alice continued, “I saw you finding out we were vampires early on. During your fascination with Jasper, you noticed the same things you ended up noticing, anyway. In the vision, you reacted differently. You let your fear rule you, and you came close to exposing our secret.”

“Did you kill me?” You asked. “In the vision?”

“No, but the decisions themselves were fragile. I had three unique visions about you in one day, all in which you found out about us. And in only one of them, you kept our secret. At first I didn’t realise how you were figuring everything out, but Edward heard your thoughts about Jasper and we put it together. We tried to wean you off of him; so Jasper talked to you more - but only about me and how happy we were. The plan was to make you stop liking him so you’d stop noticing things—but it backfired. Jasper used his gift on you when you were too close to figuring it out. Edward suggested a colder approach, which was too hard for Jasper as he could feel everything you were feeling.

“Then, I met you at the café and tried to smooth over the situation. We approached it differently again. So, we treated you kindly and acted like the entire thing was just Edward running on a tangent—but my visions about the outcome were murky. They kept changing. Sometimes you’d figure it out and react badly, other times you’d let it go and move on from us, and only once did you find out and accept us. I think we’re living in that vision now.”

It was a lot to take in, and you had so many questions; but the one that came out was, “I can’t imagine trying to tell anyone about any of this.”

“The whole Edward-as-the-scapegoat story wasn’t a complete lie. When he read your mind, he saw that you would often fantasise about-” she paused, almost as if she was about to choke. “About separating Jasper and myself. Jasper had no intentions of letting that happen—but Edward wondered if your disposition might change after you found out about everything. If you were capable of blackmail, or-”

“I’m not. So you can all chill out, if that’s what I’m really here for.” Your anger at Edward was justified, then. “For all of you to check if I’m safe.”

“My intention tonight wasn’t to upset you-”

“Jasper!” You called out. Behind you, one door to the adjoining rooms opened and Jasper emerged. “I want to go home now.”

“Of course.” You didn’t miss the look he gave Alice; it was one of frustration. And as before by the stairwell, Alice didn’t look back at him.

“Goodbye, (Y/N),” Alice’s angelic voice rang from behind you as you left the room. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

It didn’t take long for you to get back outside. The wind had picked up, and the air smacking against your face made it harder to hold back your tears. Jasper’s voice came as a comfort. “Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You didn’t reply and only shook your head as a stream of tears spilled down your cheeks. The embarrassment of it all. These people truly thought the worst of you. Edward was still assuming your entire personality and relaying the most negative parts of it to the rest of his family; and Alice insinuated that you were a traitor. Meanwhile, all of this was happening in front of Jasper. You were now crying in front of him, and he wouldn’t even comfort you.

“What were you doing in the neighbouring room?” You wiped your tears on your sleeves.

“We have a closet and an office adjoined to our room, and I wanted to be nearby to keep my promise about taking you home.”

You were glad you were facing away from him, because you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your eyes shut and silently sobbing. Our room. They shared it; of course. You had been mistaken in thinking it only belonged to Alice. All the humiliation on top of the physical reminders that Jasper was spoken for was too much at once. You regretted ever going inside. Now you definitely wanted to throw up. The vampire thing should have scared you away from him. It should have made you run for the hills; and while you were still afraid from time to time, it somehow made you love him even more.

Jasper had moved closer to you while you cried, and you could feel his cold hand chilling your shoulder through the fabric of your shirt. “Are you ready to leave?”

You still had so many questions—the tension between Alice and Jasper being at the forefront of your mind. Had you caused it? But you couldn’t ask, not with your feelings already so out in the open. You had embarrassed yourself enough up to this point. So instead, you nodded and turned to face Jasper; no longer caring if he saw you cry. Your voice sounded raspy as you said, “I want you to use your gift to make me stop feeling sad. Will you?”

“You’re sure?” But he didn’t hesitate; and already the melancholy made way for contentment. You wiped the rest of the tears from your face.

“Thank you.” You wanted to ask him to do something else, but couldn’t will yourself to ask the question. He handed the motorcycle helmet to you for the second time that night, and you paused. “What’s your natural method of travel? The one you mentioned earlier?”

“We can run really fast. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen, and faster than you could imagine. I’d be happy to run you home, but not if it will scare you.”

“It won’t.”

He gestured for you to climb onto his back, and you did; resisting the urge to bury your face in his neck. His muscular arms held you close as he reminded you softly, “Hold on as tightly as you can.”

Without another moment’s notice, he launched you through the forest at an impossible speed. The tall trees surrounding you morphed into an indistinguishable wall of brown and green, and the ground behind you moved so quickly it made your eyes blur. Before you could even think to breathe, Jasper had stopped outside your front door and the world around you was visible again. The world was spinning, and Jasper picked you up bridal-style and carried you through the front door to your bedroom; carefully laying you down on your bed and sitting beside you on the mattress. “You’ve had a big night, you should get some sleep.”

“Wait,” you called out before he could disappear. “What happens now?”

You wanted him to say he would call you tomorrow, or meet you somewhere. You wanted to be told that this would continue—but the serious look on Jasper’s face warned that you wouldn’t be hearing any of that. Conflicting looks crossed over his features as he looked like he was debating something within himself. “You should talk to Alice again when you can. There’s a lot more to her vision than what she explained to you. It’s important that you seek her when you’re ready to listen. It’s about you, and you deserve to know what she believes will be coming.” He added dryly, “You’ll like what she saw for you.”

“And what about you, though?”

“Because of… foreseen circumstances, Alice has asked for some distance in our relationship for now. I can feel her emotions. I know what she’s trying to do—and you’ll find out when you talk to her—but I can’t let her. Please understand this. Regardless of whatever Alice says to you, I need you to keep a distance from me.”

“But-”

“There is nothing you can say to change my mind, I meant what I said. I love Alice with my entire heart. We have been married since 1950. Now you know everything, there’s no reason for you and I to continue talking about it. Please talk to Alice; but listen to me. I will not leave my wife for you.”

That was the final blow; all you needed to push you into an unfamiliar territory; one where you wanted to sever the one-sided bond. You thought back at the question you didn’t ask him earlier and realised you might die if you didn’t. “I want you to use your gift again to help me achieve that. Every time I feel attracted to you, every time I love you or I want you… You have to quell it. I realise I’m in way over my head. I realise I am embarrassing myself by continuing to love you.” Jasper winced as you said the last sentence, but watched you intently as you continued. “I can’t stay away from you if I can’t get over you. I need help. Will you please put me out of my misery and control my feelings for me?”

“I can only do it while I’m in range. It’ll wear off-”

“It might at least condition me to stop thinking about you. I don’t know. Can we at least try it?”

His beautiful eyes locked with yours, and your heart felt lighter. As you watched the vampire in front of you, he looked less godlike, less devastating. Still conventionally attractive, you felt the adoration slip away as you studied his face, his hair, his body… Everything melted away and was replaced by neutrality. For the first time in a while, you stared at Jasper Hale and you didn’t want to kiss him, or hold him, or profess your love with him.

If anything, you wanted him out of your room.

And so, with one last look at you to make sure it worked, Jasper turned away from you and walked out the door.

For the first time in a long time, you could breathe again.

Tags: @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @eggmettcullen @scuzmunkie @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oi-itsemily @cacti-succulents-andlesbians @aw0kenangel @jelly-fishy-babie @kawaiikpoplover268 @awkwardnesshabitat @salsameter @dillybuggg @awesomebooklover17 @badgirlsdeaddreams @raindancer2004 @camillapad @champagnejoker @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @starrybumbles @bubblegumcat229 @boywivlove @mauvette268 @pleasantlycrazyworld

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

What's It To You? (Part Two)

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) x reader(ish)

Warnings: bad language, graphic depictions of blood and death, slight nudity (nothing graphic)

Context: Dwayne has another encounter with the werewolves

A/N: as promised here is part two! It turned out very differently to how I imagined it, but I quite like it. I may develop this if I have time, but we'll have to see

Masterlist

Tagging: @thetempleofthemasaigoddess (original requester)

The roads are eerily quiet, bare except for the lone motorcycle speeding up towards Hudson's Bluff, the near-full moon serving to light the way, even as it is mostly cast in darkness. The figure astride the bike leans forwards over the tank of the vehicle, revving the engine, intent on getting back to the cave faster, knowing the food strapped to the back is getting somewhat cold. His dark hair whips out behind him, flowing smoothly in the rushing wind created by the speed of the bike, allowing the vampire to see clearly.

Around him, Dwayne barely notices the dark forest, paying no attention to it, just as he usually does, never having encountered anything there that may harm him, and not expecting to, either. Internally, he knows that there's no way he'd be able to hear if there were anything there, given that the motorcycle's engine ruined any chance of picking up anything, even despite his enhanced hearing, so he doesn't think too much on it.

He has, however, been plagued by a peculiar feeling since he turned onto this particular road. Something isn't quite right, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up as a chill runs down his spine, the reflex surprising him; nothing has made him do that, not since he turned, anyway. The vampire tries to ignore it, but he can't fight the pressing notion that he's being watched - and not just by one person, either.

For the first time, he curses the volume of his motorbike's engine, wishing now that he could hear and acknowledge everything around him, and so assess whether or not he's in any real danger. He tightens his grip on the handlebars, gritting his teeth, beating down the rising unease in his gut, reminding himself that it's not too far before he has to turn off onto the cliff, at which point he'll mostly leave behind the eerie forest, and hopefully the sensation with it. Thankful for his sharp vision, he takes in the sight of a sharp bend, a little way away, taking it with ease as he nears it.

His hand clenches tightly around the brake, the bike skidding to a halt with a sharp squeal.

A pair of glowing amber eyes stare him down, blazing brightly in the beam of his headlight, holding his gaze steadily. Swallowing, Dwayne maintains the eye contact, having taken in the form of the silhouette instantly: a huge wolf, easily the size of a small pony, its body rippling with muscle under a thick pelt of black fur, shot with silver and grey, the creature much more barrel-chested than any normal canine. Its lips pull back slightly over its glistening fangs, the gesture disturbingly reminiscent of a smirk as it releases a low growl, as if laughing at him.

Dwayne has no idea how to react, feeling the natural instinct of his vampirism rising up in him, his own eyes turning yellow as his fangs push at his lower lip, threatening to expose themselves. He forces this down, until he realises that the hulking wolf before him is not his only problem. At least eight others have emerged from the darkness, circling him like sharks as they snarl lowly, teeth snapping at him as he glances at each of them. None of them are quite the size of the first, but many are close, their bodies each laden with muscles that would put a timber wolf to shame.

Climbing off of his motorbike, Dwayne bares his own teeth, the food forgotten now as he assesses the situation, figuring out his best way out of the threat. Spreading his weight evenly, he watches the wolves carefully, vaguely surprised when he notices them come to a halt at regular intervals around him, ready to spring into the air to avoid any possible conflict. He should've remembered the werewolves, especially after the last month's encounter with the young female back at the chicken race.

Just as he goes to move, however, two of the wolves start to contort, the largest one, and a much smaller one, limbs stretching and shrinking, joints and bones cracking audibly as they break and reset themselves. Growls and barks escape the two of them, the pelts starting to melt away into skin, paws becoming hands and feet as muzzles pull back into jaws, fangs retracting into natural canines as human features fall back into place, leaving two recognisable people behind. Dwayne has to bite back a sound of surprise as he comes face to face with the two (very naked) werewolves.

He recognises them both from the chicken race, the first being the muscular guy he'd seen with the dark hair, the second being the reckless racer, her expression that of embarrassment and guilt. She stands somewhat behind the taller man, using his bulky body to conceal her own nudity, though her eyes are fixed on Dwayne's as he regards them both, unsure of where this is going now.

The dark-haired man watches him carefully for a couple more minutes, brown eyes taking in every inch of his body, even as Dwayne looks over him, making sure to avoid his lower half, finding himself admiring the curling patterns of ink swirling across broad shoulders, bleeding down onto a toned torso. Bulging arms are crossed over an incredibly toned abdomen, veins standing out even in the pale light of the moon, the man's black hair falling slightly into his face. Since they last laid eyes on each other, the guy's scruff has grown out a little, giving him a much more roguish look, though it doesn't take away from the admittedly handsome cast of his features.

"You know, you bloodsuckers are a lot harder to find than I thought you'd be." His voice when he speaks is rough and thick, words almost slurred from how heavy his accent is, clearly not having originated from this part of the country, but rather somewhere more rural.

"There's a reason for that." Dwayne replies, evenly, still tense.

The man lifts an eyebrow, lidded eyes trained on him.

"I'd ask you to elaborate, but I'm not stupid." He bites out, adjusting his stance.

"Good to know." Dwayne frowns, "What do you want?"

Dark eyes narrow, head cocking to the side.

"I hate to admit it, but we need your help."

A moment of silence falls on them, the vampire blinking in surprise, the werewolves watching him closely.

"You can't be serious." Dwayne eventually manages, suspicious now of their true intentions.

"Oh, I'm dead serious, as much as it pains me to admit it." The werewolf growls back, gruff voice laced with disgust.

"Please, hear us out, will you?" The racer from before suddenly speaks up, imploring Dwayne with her eyes from behind her leader.

Curious, Dwayne nods after a moment, returning his gaze back to the surly leader as the racer shoots him a quick smile of thanks.

"I'll be quick saying this, but there's a new coven of witches in town. Bad ones. They haven't taken too kindly to us, and I don't reckon they'll be too happy to have four vampires on their asses, either. We want your help getting rid of them." The leader explains, shifting a little.

"What makes them bad?" Dwayne questions, not too surprised by the knowledge of there being new witches in town.

"They're Sanguis witches. Blood witches, but a very traditional faction of them. They've got a thirst for the stuff that shames you lot, but it's not necessarily human blood they want." He informs him, tightening his jaw, "They've killed three of our youngest members already, all to use in their vile rituals, and from the sounds of things they've been doing the same with humans. There's word on the street of them looking for new blood, too. Preferably vampire."

The news strikes a cold feeling inside Dwayne, the knowledge of the Sanguis Witches of old being something he grew up fearing, particularly their ruthless and remorseless methods of collecting the substance they treasure the most: blood. For years, he'd heard the stories of how they brutally slaughtered entire villages, looking for the perfect sacrifice to use in their barbaric rituals, or how they'd string up unlucky victims like cows in an abattoir and bleed them out, alive, chanting through the screams of the dying men, women and children above them. Their presence in Santa Carla is troubling, and totally unwelcome, especially if they have murder on their minds.

"You're sure it's Sanguis Witches? Not just some over-excited witches trying to live up to someone else's standard?" The vampire questions, unsure of whether or not to believe the werewolf.

"We're sure." The girl replies, wincing at the memory, "We found our youngest completely dismembered and arranged in a pentacle, with the remainders of a spell around her. It's definitely them."

Dwayne grimaces at the thought, the arrangement sounding very much like the horror stories he's heard. He thinks for a moment, before deciding on a course of action.

"I'm willing to help, but first I need to tell the others. You should come, too." He says to the werewolves, "But only you two. Not the others."

Scowling, the male werewolf thinks this over, before nodding, gesturing for the other wolves to leave, which they do so reluctantly.

"You'll need to know our names, I guess." He mutters, watching his pack members go, "I'm Trace, and this is (Y/n)."

"I'm Dwayne." The vampire nods at the two, going back to his bike, "Feel like following on? It's not too far."

"Sure."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)

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myownworstenemyyy · 4 years

Note

can I request “I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…that wasn’t true.” with javi :)

edit: this is Part 1 of the Crystal Clear series

feeling angsty, are we, nonny? 😏 i was so excited to write this one! I hope you like it and mayhaps a part 2 is in the works 😉💕💜💜

prompt from this list: “I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…that wasn’t true.”

word count: 1.7k (gif by @bestintheparsec)

warnings: swearing (obvi) ; cheating on someone ? kinda briefly ? (idk man)

masterlist | also, this fic was heavily inspired by the song Crystal Clear from the beautiful Hayley Williams 🥰

“I wanna make it crystal clear that I won't give in to the fear.”

The Texas heat is always unforgiving this time of year. But your garden was starting to look horrendous, so you had decided to just suck it up and get some yard work done. Now, as you kneel in the dirt, your gloved hands deep in the soil and back aching from bending over for so long, you think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

The sound of rocks shifting under heavy footsteps has you looking over your shoulder to see a figure approaching. You raise your hand to shield your eyes from the sun shining so brightly behind the stranger, their silhouette being the only thing you can make out. “Can I help you?” you say in a polite, yet cautious voice.

Your heart nearly stops when an all-too-familiar baritone replies, “Hola, bonita,” as he stops a few feet in front of you - well, technically behind you. Slowly rising to your feet, your eyes fully adjust to the sunlight as you take in the sight of the first man you ever fell in love with. Javier.

He mostly looks the same, save for the slight tan of his skin, along with a few worry lines and wrinkles that have formed over the years since he-

Since he left you.

“Javier,” you state, your voice betraying you when it cracks on the last syllable. What is he doing here? When did he - come back?

The silence drags on as the two of you study each other, though his expression is much softer than your confused one. “What are you doing here?” you ask at the same time he says, “You look good.” He chuckles, the sound making your stomach flip as your cheeks flush.

That laugh - god, it’s been so long since you’ve heard it, the last time being the night before he left for Columbia to aid in the capture of Pablo Escobar. Though at the time, you didn’t actually know it would be the last time you’d see him for years to come. You didn’t learn that bit of information until the next morning when you woke up to find a letter in your mailbox - a short apology for his sudden departure.

But you’d suspected it was more like “fleeing,” especially after you’d told him how you truly felt about him just the night before. Though you suppose you should’ve known better - Javier Peña never was a man who could be committed to one woman for longer than a few nights. Even if that woman was you - his best friend since elementary school.

Lost in reminiscent thoughts of the two of you together, you don’t notice Javier taking a couple steps closer to where you’re standing. “I just got back a couple days ago and...I needed to see you,” he looks away for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Well, at least he has the decency to look ashamed.

“OK, you’ve seen me. Now you can go,” you turn around and head towards the front door to your house, leaving your garden a half-done mess. You’ve just reached the first step of the porch when he reaches for your wrist, “Wait - I...I’m sorry, for leaving.”

Releasing a weary sigh, you turn and face him again, his eyes filled with sincerity and something akin to desperation. Your heart instinctively aches to comfort him, but you know that’s not your place - not anymore. “Why?” you ask quietly and the regret lining his features tells you he knows you’re not just referring to why he’s sorry, but why he actually left in the first place without so much as a good-bye. Because you both know you didn’t deserve to find out he was leaving from some piece of paper left on your fucking doorstep.

“I didn’t know how to tell you - that I was assigned to the unit in Columbia. And I couldn’t face you - not after everything you’d said...about-”

“I remember,” you cut him off, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. You bite your bottom lip as it threatens to quiver, the emotions you’ve been suppressing for so long rising to the surface. “You broke my fucking heart, Javi,” your voice breaks, barely above a whisper, as a tear glides down your cheek.

“I know,” he admits in a voice just as softly as he closes his eyes for a moment, releasing a shaky breath, “God, I know, bonita. I - I always made you think your feelings for me were totally one-sided…” he takes a deep breath, sliding his hand down your wrist and holding your right hand in both of his, “but...that wasn’t true,” he confesses, his words landing like a punch to the gut.

Your breath hitches when you finally process what he’s said, the meaning behind his words gripping your heart like a vise. He...feels the same way?

His dark eyes search yours, pleading for you to understand - for you to forgive him. But you’ve fallen speechless as you try to think of a response, barely able to voice a weak, “W-what?”

As you remain in a state of shock, Javi reaches for your other hand, coming to stand in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Bonita, I-” he starts but then his brow furrows as he looks down at your left hand, his fingers feeling for something under your gardening glove.

The look of realization on his face is what finally snaps you out of your trance-like state. You swallow hard as you remove the glove from your left hand, bringing it up closer to eye level to show him-

“I’m engaged,” you croak out, your words laced with regret, and you quickly push away every thought rushing to the forefront of your mind. You refuse to acknowledge any bit of reasoning as to why your heart is breaking from sharing the news of your engagement with the man who basically just confessed his love for you.

“Oh,” he swallows hard, his gaze fixated on the simple diamond that suddenly feels like it’s cutting off circulation to your finger. His grip loosens as he releases your hands, wiping his own hand down his face as he turns away, muttering, “Of course you are - soy más pendejo,” he trails off, his back facing you.

You're frozen at the bottom of the porch, clutching your gardening glove to the point of making your knuckles ache. His hands rest on his hips, his head dropping for a moment as he takes one, two, three breaths before turning to face you once more.

Your heart begins to race as he watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Though, the sadness in his eyes is impossible to miss.

Clenching his jaw, he nods his head once like he’s come to some kind of decision. “Felicidades, bonita. I hope your prometido knows how lucky he is,” he offers a tight-lipped smile before turning on his heel and walking away. It takes a minute for your legs to finally spring into action as you stumble after him, “Javi, wait!” you drop the glove on the ground, no longer caring about the mess in your front yard.

He skids to a stop but remains facing forward, his shoulders tense. Walking around his brooding figure, you face him head-on, “It’s been years since I’ve even heard from you, Javi - you can’t just-” you shake your head incredulously, all the hurt and confusion from his abandonment manifesting itself as anger, “you don’t get to do this to me. You don’t just get to leave, come back and say you have feelings for me - and then fucking leave again!”

Your chest rises and falls with the same fierce intensity coating your words, but you refuse to back down, “Why did you even come here if you were just gonna leave the minute I rejected you? I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do after you left? Sit around and sulk because my best friend - the man I love - decided to take a job in Columbia, and didn’t even say good-bye?!”

Your hands fly to your hair in frustration as you start to pace up and down the sidewalk, angry tears welling in your eyes. No, I’m not crying over him again - I did enough of that when he left. But the memory of you sitting on the hardwood floor in your living room, clutching his letter to your chest as you sobbed for hours, has fresh tears spilling onto your cheeks.

“‘Love’, not… ‘loved’?” he asks carefully as he watches you closely, holding his breath while you wipe your face clean with the front of your shirt. You look at him with a furrowed brow, “What?” The adrenaline from your outburst is quickly fading, exhaustion taking its place.

After a beat, you meet his eyes, which are swimming with emotion as he elaborates, “You said ‘the man I love’... not ‘the man I loved.” His face gives nothing away, but you're taken aback when you see an echo of something in his eyes - hope.

You slowly shake your head, “Javi-” but he cuts you off with a desperate plea.

“Please, just-” he takes a step toward you, his hands reaching out to lightly grip your arms, “tell me - tell me you feel nothing for me anymore and I'll leave you alone...for good.” And from the pained look plaguing his features, you know he’ll keep that promise - he'll walk out of your life, taking all the pain and sorrow he’s caused you along with him.

You grip his forearm with a shaky hand, holding onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment. Your lip trembles and his brow furrows deeper in concern as your breathing picks up, your entire being overwhelmed by the emotions boiling over within you.

“I...can't,” you breathe out, looking into his dark eyes as you bring your hands to his face, your fingers hesitantly stroking his cheek. His chest is rising and falling to the same tempo as yours, his lips slightly parted as you trace your fingers over his bottom lip, mesmerized by the curve and slight pout that permanently lives there.

“Bonita-” but it's your turn to interrupt him, only this time it's not with words. You cradle his face in your hands and push up on the tips of your toes until your lips meet his - and the rest of the world fades away.

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

Translations:

bonita - pretty / beautiful

soy más pendejo - I'm the biggest dumbass 😂

Felicidades - Congratulations

prometido - fiance

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

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed)

@spacegayofficial @themandjalorian @hiscyarika @mandoispunk @madadlorian @pedrolorians @forever-rogue @longitud-de-onda @certifiedskywalker @dindjarindiaries @no-droids-allowed @aerynwrites @buckyodinson @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gooddaykate @fanfiction-trashpile @arrowswithwifi @letaliabane @thinemineours @ham4arrow @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @thisainttheway @bluemoon-glen @katialvi @bestintheparsec @24kgolden @livasaurasrex @c-ly-g @triggerhappyflyboyy @fangirl-and-stuff @mrsparknuts @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @kimljn @kristalhi @fatbottomedcurls @auty-ren @mabelleen @rzrcrst @pascalisthepunkest @blushingwueen @lovingtheway @beskars @mandoandyodito @roxypeanut @rosamedina92 @sinnamon-bun @ct-arc-5555 @keeper0fthestars @poe-pascal @spacemacandcheese @destucky45 @marvelwars @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @frietiemeloen @waywardodysseys @thick-dick-daddy-mando @haildoodles-writing @walkerchick007 @miraelles

#prompt requests #requests #my ff #ficlet #one-shot #javier peña #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal fic #my writing #my posts #narcos #narcos fic #STUPID FUCKING TUMBLR PUT THE KEEP READING THING SO HIGH UUUGGGGHHHHHH

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silvysartfulness · 4 years

Note

☕ Yi City trio celebrating birthdays or holidays?

“Yi City Trio” is somewhat ambigious, but I’m going with Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen and a-Qing for this one!

And To Many More

”It's really unfair,” a-Qing pouted one day, as they were walking down the market street, smacking her bamboo pole against the ground a little harder than necessary. Chengmei snorted at her.

”Everything in the world's unfair, Little Blind. You're going to have to be a little more specific.”

She scowled and perfectly accidentally swooped the cane in his direction, scoring a perfect smack against one shin, making him hiss and narrow his eyes at her.

”A-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen said, in mild reproach, but he was smiling.

”The birthday party we walked past,” she elaborated.”People getting gifts and good food and tiger shoes just because they happen to know what day they're born. Unfair!”

Chengmei rolled his eyes, which was stupid, since none of his companions would be able to see it anyway.

”You're jealous at people knowing their own birthdays now?”

”It's just unfair!” she bristled and wondered if she could get away with accidentally hitting his shin twice in one day. Probably not. His good moods were capricious at best, and the bad ones... She didn't want to bring on a bad one. ”Just because some people grew up with family and friends who keep track of such things. So if you don't have a family, you don't get birthdays either. That's double unfair!”

Their Daozhang looked troubled, but Chengmei just laughed out loud.

”Then pick one! You want something, you take it for yourself. Don't just whine about it. Pick a day, get yourself a treat, have some fun. It's what I do.”

”You don't know yours either?” she asked, surprised. He shrugged.

”Nope. And you don't see me crying about it.”

”I can just pick a day? Any day?” suddenly she was excited. There were a lot of birthdays to make up for.

”Sure.”

”When's your birthday, Daozhang?” she asked, because if she could pick any day to have a birthday, sharing it with her brother-in-white would make it all the better.

Xiao Xingchen smiled.

”I actually don't know, either. I was taken in by Baoshan Sanren when I was little, but I don't know anything before that.”

”There,” Chengmei sneered, ”See, none of us knows! You're not so special. Stop being whiny.”

”Then today's my birthday!” she declared, firmly, stopping and putting her hands on her hips. ”And you don't get to be mean to me on my birthday!”

He laughed at her, but just sometimes she got the feeling he actually approved of her standing up to him, his laugh seeming genuinely amused.

”Fine! Then it's my birthday, too, and you have to behave! Hey, would you like it to be your birthday, too, Daozhang? Surely this calls for celebration!”

Xiao Xingchen laughed at them, and actually looked quite delighted.

”I think it's a good idea. Let's all celebrate our birthday today.”

She cheered, then tugged on a white sleeve.

”Birthday means treats,” she informed him. ”It's my first birthday ever, I want it to be good.”

”We don't have a lot of money,” he gently told her, and her heart sank, until she watched Chengmei reach out almost absently to cut a passing purse with the same bored ease someone else might produce one out of their pockets. She should be outraged at the audacity. She was delighted.

”My treat,” he said, tossing it at her, and she almost caught it on instinct before letting it fall to the ground, making a show of groping around for it. ”You two go pick out some good food – don't let the vendors swindle him, Little-...” she glared to remind him it was in fact her birthday and he was not allowed to be mean. ”Little Qingqing. I'll get some other stuff. See you back home.”

***

The food was plentiful and amazing, and Xiao Xingchen had bought her a pillow with a tiger on it to ward off evil spirits. Chengmei had given her a knife that looked quite well used, with that eye-rolling bored expression he got when he was actually really happy, and told her to stab anyone who was rude to her in the guts. She assumed he did not actually mean himself.

Both she and the Daozhang had gotten him candy, which might be the reason for said genuine happiness. How someone could eat that many sweets without getting sick, she still didn’t know.

And Xiao Xingchen had laughed bashfully when she had given him a new purse and told him to not just give it away to strangers this time.

They rested around the fire, finishing off the last of the food and drink. She had been handed a small flask of honey liquor under the unspoken agreement Xiao Xingchen didn't need to know about it, and it tasted burning sweet and left a pleasant warmth in her belly.

”Got something for you, too, Daozhang,” Chengmei said, sounding casual, and pulling out what looked like folded cloth from wherever it was he stored things. Xiao Xingchen looked up, then started as the man reached out in that cloying overly familiar fashion of his to untie the bandage over his eyes.

”Ah, please, don't.” Chengmei faltered, just for a moment, before his smile widened and his voice turned ingratiatingly gentle.

”I know, I know. Just once. Here.”

Still looking vaguely uncomfortable, Xiao Xingchen closing his fingers over the ribbons placed in his hands and stroked at them with his thumbs.

”Your whole humble, rough spun look is very commendable, Daozhang” Chengmei smiled, but he was talking slightly too fast, as though he knew he had actually overstepped and was trying to smooth it over. ”But that rough bandage is hurting your eyes. You need something softer. This was the softest cloth I could find, I touched all the textiles they had in the market, and this is definitely the smoothest. It's white, too. Doesn't it feel soft?”

Xiao Xingchen looked very naked with his face bare, fingers slowly turning the strips of cloth over his hands. Then he gave a broken little smile.

”It's lovely. Thank you.”

Chengmei seemed to exhale a tension she hadn't seen him holding, and was instantly all smiles again.

”Here, let me...”

He meticulously tied the fresh piece of cloth in place, brushing the caught strands of hair back into place with almost exaggerated tenderness. Back to his usual calm self with the blindfold securely back over his hollowed eyes, Xiao Xingchen turned and gave him a warm smile.

”That was a very thoughtful gift, Chengmei. Thank you. Truly.”

Chengmei did that thing she suspected he only allowed himself because he was certain no-one could see him, where he actually looked a bit lost, before his asshole grin snapped back in place.

”Eh. Not a big deal. Is there any liquor left? You had better not touched my dessert, Litt-... a-Qing. I saw you eyeing it before.”

She just stuck her tongue out at him.

The last drops of liquor were sweet, the fire was warm and her new tiger pillow was soft.

It had been a really good birthday.

-----

Oops. Fic?

#the untamed #mdzs #the untamed fanfic #mdzs fanfic #xiao xingchen #xue yang #a-qing #yi city babies #look at them #all soft and happy #silvywritestheuntamed #untamed artfulness #ebonykain

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prettyboymichaels-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 4: A Swerve in the Right Direction

Things come to a tentative boiling point, more things are said, and even more things are settled - for the time being, at least.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~4k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

(AO3 Link: [x]; Prev: [x]; First: [x])

(originally this was supposed to be split into smaller parts, like the other chapters, but it... didn’t flow as well, like that. so you’re getting the whole shebang at once ;) lucky y’all)

tw for: references to attempted sexual assault

tag list: @track12to13, @piratewithvigor, @sinderellanightwolf. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

“Bret!”

That woke him up, and with a jolt, at that, flinching into alertness and away from the hand that was shaking him so harshly. “What? What?” He rubbed at his eyes, blinking as they adjusted, and turned to where the urgent voice had come from. It was Shawn, he could see the edges of his arms and shoulders as he leant over the side of the nest on his belly, his hair cast a soft orange by the street lights beyond the curtains, and his eyes were bright. Too bright, for what little light was actually illuminating the room. “Shawn?”

He heard his throat click when he swallowed, and he didn’t speak for a moment or two. “I–” He swallowed again. “Your jacket, it’s not–”

He cut himself off again, and something moved in his hand when he tried to shift his weight on his arms. It was Bret’s jacket, clutched so tightly in Shawn’s fist that the leather was creaking. “It’s not enough,” he said, and his voice cracked. “I can’t–”

“Hey, hey hey hey.” Bret reached over, trying to keep his own voice as relaxed as possible despite the anxiety growing leaden in his gut. He’d never seen Shawn like this, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t scaring him a little, but there was no doubt that if Shawn knew that, if Bret let slip that he was anything but calm and collected right now, it would really set him off. Shawn reached back desperately, getting his hands around his arm and tugging hard enough to make him stumble into the bed. He only just caught himself with his free hand before he face-planted. “Gimme some room, c’mon.”

Shawn refused to let go of him as he did so, shuffling back just far enough for Bret to crawl up into the nest on his knees. He had to catch himself again when Shawn pulled on him a second time, and he murmured to him as he eased himself onto his side; “I’m right here, Shawn, you’re alright– oof.” That was the sound of the air getting punched from his lungs when Shawn launched himself at him with the force of a small car, wrapping his arms around him tightly enough to make him wince. He was still burning up, and Bret was going to be sweating soon, like this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, just moved his own arms to encircle Shawn’s back when he buried his face in the crook of his neck, right where his scent gland was. He had a moment to be thankful he hadn’t managed to put his shirt back on, so it couldn’t become a casualty of Shawn’s instincts, before all of his focus was narrowed to a single point.

“You’re okay,” he assured him, gentle, like he couldn’t feel him shaking apart in his arms, couldn’t feel his breaths hitching in his chest, couldn’t feel his tears starting to fall onto the bare skin of his shoulder. He raised one hand to cradle the back of his head, rubbing his thumb into the base of his skull through his hair. All he could smell was hot metal. “You’re okay.”

Shawn, gradually, very gradually, started to calm. His violent trembling was soothed into only the occasional shiver, and the silent sobs that’d wet Bret’s skin dried up into a sniffle or two. His grip grew looser just as slowly, until Bret could breathe a little easier, and no longer felt like he’d been caught in a human vice. “How’re you feeling?” he eventually brought himself to ask, as carefully as he could, and nearly cursed himself when it wasn’t enough to keep Shawn from freezing.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” The words were a horrified whisper. “I’m so fucked up, I didn’t even ask–”

Bret tightened his own grip when he tried to pull back, keeping him right where he was, even as his muscles continued to jump under his hands. “Stop. That’s not what I asked.”

“Christ, Bret, how d’you think I’m feeling?!” Shawn hissed, still struggling, and lifted a hand to cover his nose. “I just violated you–”

“I’m sorry, does my opinion mean nothing here?” Bret cut him off, because he was not going to let that stand. “Does my choice to get up, and get into your nest, and let you scent me, without breaking your nose – the way I would have if you tried to force yourself on me – does that mean jack fucking shit now? Is that it?”

“Letting me scent you because you would’ve felt guilty if you didn’t isn’t a fucking choice, Bret!” Shawn raised his voice at him, planting his free hand on Bret’s chest to gain enough leverage to push himself back and look him in the eye. They were still wet, as were his flushed cheeks, and it sure as hell didn’t take away from how devastated he looked, furious and upset and disgusted, all at himself. “It’s a fucking obligation!”

Bret grit his teeth. “Helping calm you down isn’t a fucking obligation, it’s helping my fucking friend!”

“We’re not friends!”

The silence that followed that declaration was deafening, and Bret was only able to watch as Shawn crumpled in on himself, moving the hand at his nose to hide his eyes when his lips started trembling. His voice shook when he next spoke, several octaves lower than he had been; “Fuck, Bret, the only reason you’re here right now is because I almost got raped yesterday and I’m too much of a coward to call Kev and Hunter about it because I don’t wanna listen to another goddamn lecture about being reckless.” He gave a mirthless laugh, then, and Bret’s chest ached. “We can barely fucking tolerate each other these days and I fucking– I miss you, okay? I miss hanging out with you, I miss going to you for advice, I miss you being one of the few people in the back who doesn’t wanna give me a black eye every night, and I know we’re just gonna go right back to being at each other’s throats as soon as my heat’s over but I don’t want that.” His voice cracked halfway through his next sentence; “I don’t want you to hate me anymore.”

“I don’t,” Bret told him, only a little shaky, raising his hands to cup Shawn’s face when he opened his mouth to argue. He was somewhat hindered by Shawn still covering his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from wiping away whatever tears had managed to escape with his thumbs. Shawn’s mouth clicked shut, and his other hand came up to curl around Bret’s inner forearm, just holding it, letting out a quiet, choked noise when Bret pulled him close enough to press their foreheads together. “Jesus, Shawn, I don’t hate you, I just… you’ve… how you’ve been acting lately’s been pissing me off, that’s all–”

“Oh, is that all?” Shawn said, and it was probably meant to come out significantly more biting than it actually did. The effect was then further ruined when he sniffled.

“Look, I–” Bret sighed, aggravated at himself. Why was it always harder to say what he meant when he wasn’t angry? “I don’t want you to hate me anymore, either, okay?”

He would’ve elaborated, but Shawn spoke again before he could; “Hate you?” It came out confused, like what Bret’d said made no sense, and Shawn moved back enough to lower his hand and blink at him. A few more tears escaped when he did so, and Bret wiped those away, too. “I don’t hate you, you’ve just–” He cut himself off, and closed his eyes again, furrowing his eyebrows with a sigh. “Been an asshole the last few months.”

“Oh, is that all?” Bret parroted, and Shawn grunted unhappily.

“Don’t turn this back on me, dammit,” he said thickly, sniffling again. “I’m the one having the breakdown here, not you.” His lip curled, here. “And I don’t need to hear whatever – whatever mushy bullshit you can pull outta your ass to shut the whiny little omega up–”

Bret lurched back a little, stunned. “Shut the– am I the kinda person to do shit like that?” he asked sharply, with a kind of looming dread, because the idea of Shawn, of anyone thinking that of him made his stomach roll. Shawn’s immediate, “well, no” brought relief one second and indignation the next. “Then why do you think I would?”

“Because that’s what people do! They say what you wanna hear so they don’t have to listen to you anymore, people do it all the time–!”

“Well I’m not most people,” Bret interrupted him, and Shawn gave a choked “ha!” before he continued; “Hell, if anything I should be asking how serious you are – for all I know this could just be the hormones talking–”

“It’s not,” Shawn protested, in a tone that indicated he thought this was a stupid thing to even consider, glaring for a moment before looking off to the side. “It’s not. They may be making me run my mouth a little, but all of it’s… I mean it. I’ve felt like this for a while now, just… y’know. Figured you wouldn’t wanna hear it, with all the…” He waved his hand, as if that could accurately capture just how strained their relationship had become. “Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“Why would I?” Bret shot right back, and Shawn bared his teeth, but just worked his jaw for a second or two and averted his eyes again. Bret brought him back in before he could find something to say, lightly knocking their foreheads together. “You ever think that maybe I missed you, too, asshole?”

An incredulous snort. “What for? ‘S not like I have anything to offer besides my big mouth.”

“First of all, you don’t have to offer anything to be friends with someone,” Bret said, like this should have been obvious, pressing their foreheads together harder when Shawn gave a skeptical hum. “I like you, you idiot. I like your company, I like working with you, I even like our arguments when they’re about stupid shit like fucking Star Trek, and I’d like to not be at each other’s throats all the time, especially if you’d like that, too. I just figured you’d laugh me out of the room if I tried to bring it up to you, after everything started just… getting worse.”

Because he’d wanted to explain himself. He’d wanted to explain why he’d become so withdrawn and snappish since November, why he’d started criticizing Shawn so harshly, for weeks. But he hadn’t, because by the time he’d realized how far he’d gone – how far they’d both gone – he’d assumed it was too late. That Shawn’s reciprocated antagonism had become legitimate contempt, as time passed, as they got progressively more aggressive and nasty with each other, and he’d lost his opportunity to stop while he was ahead, to try and reconcile with him, to just explain. This whole damn thing may have started because of Bret’s hang-ups about the championship, about Shawn’s attitude, about how he and his little “Kliq” buddies were acting like they owned the damn promotion, and it may have escalated because Shawn hadn’t backed down, had only given it back just as hard as Bret dished it out (which had done nothing but create a cycle of Bret spitting something even more cutting, and Shawn responding just as venomously, in a terrible, self-sustaining loop), but that didn’t excuse Bret’s reluctance to just… say something. Sure, Shawn had escalated it, but Bret hadn’t stopped him. He’d been too blinded by his own anger, his own insecurities, and then, he’d been too much of a coward to open his damn mouth.

It had all become one big mess. One big, muddled, stupid mess.

“So…” He paused, rubbing circles into Shawn’s cheekbones with his thumbs. His eyes were closed, but it was clear he was listening. “Guess we’re both a little oblivious, if we both wanted to try and resolve all this and were too chickenshit to actually say anything. Maybe your hormones aren’t so bad, if they’re what managed to get our heads out of our asses.”

Shawn blew out a laugh, squeezing his arm where he was still holding it. “God, we really are idiots.”

Bret huffed, because, well. He wasn’t wrong. “Look, if we’re gonna try and be friends again, we’re gonna have to work for it, okay? And that means talking shit out, not – assuming things, or letting things fester, or getting caught up in each other’s bullshit or – or attitudes, or anything else. It can’t be one-sided, we gotta meet in the middle here. I don’t wanna get stuck being the only one actually trying, and I’m sure you don’t want to, either,” he made sure to add, so Shawn wouldn’t think he thought he was the weak link between them. “Actually clearing the air can wait ‘til your heat’s over, but we’re both adults, we should be able to be honest with one another and explain what’s pissing us off without devolving into a screaming match. Okay?”

Shawn shifted, no doubt a little uncomfortable at the idea of not being able to bluster through difficult conversations with him in the future, but sighed – reluctantly, unhappily, but sighed, nonetheless. “Okay. Okay, yeah, fine, I – yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Shawn repeated, a bit impatiently, squeezing his arm again, harder this time. “If you’ll do it, I’ll do it. If that’s what it’ll take…”

“It is,” Bret said, not the least bit sympathetic. He understood that Shawn would rather rip his own hair out than be vulnerable, than be less than absolutely sure of himself, absolutely confident, in front of another person (hell, Bret found it pretty difficult, too; he’d have to step up just like Shawn would if this was gonna work), but they’d kind of already passed the point of no return on that front, from Bret stepping into that alley yesterday to being in his nest and letting him cry into his scent gland less an hour ago – really, to being present for his heat at all. Hell, Shawn was still naked – and still hard! (Not that Bret even registered that anymore, at this point, but it was the principle of the thing.) “If you’re as serious about this as I am, it is.”

“Kinda fuckin’ serious about it, yeah.”

The hint of dry humor in his tone when he said it let the rest of the tension drain from Bret’s shoulders, and he released his own sigh. “Good. Now. How’re you feeling?”

Shawn groaned, but didn’t pull away, which was a vast improvement to the last time he’d asked. “Fuck, I’m sorry–”

“I already told you it was my choice to let you scent me in the first place, so try again.”

Shawn opened his eyes just to roll them, giving him a look, though it lost much of its potency due to just how close their faces were. “If we’re being honest with each other now, then I’m being honest and telling you I feel like shit. I know I don’t really have any right to ask you to forgive me, so I won’t–”

“Shawn, Jesus.” Bret pulled back so he could look at him properly. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. You didn’t force me into anything, you didn’t violate me, you didn’t even make me uncomfortable. Nothing I’ve done since your heat started has been against my will, or because it felt like an obligation. Yeah, I’m here to keep you out of the hospital, but if there’s anything I can do to make you a little less miserable, or in a little less pain, then I’ll do it. And fuck, it’s not like it came totally out of left field – you asked to scent me in the cab, remember? When you woke me up, I thought…” He bit the inside of his cheek, and dropped his eyes to Shawn’s collarbone. “I don’t know what I thought, but you scared the shit outta me. Not because you needed to scent me, you just… I’ve never seen you like that.”

Shawn hummed, unsurprised. “I mean, I’m usually like that for most of my heat.” When Bret blinked at him, he shrugged, a little sheepish. “It’s my nose. You know how it’s way too sensitive right now?” Bret nodded. “I’m usually just… alone, for my whole heat, and Kev and Scott, whenever they come in, they’re all I can smell, for hours, and then one of ‘em comes back in to get me to drink something or to refill the hot water bottle and it starts all over again. I kind of…” He squirmed, and he was the one to look away, this time. “It’s… not pretty, to say the least, and that’s just from what I can remember afterwards. Crying, grabbing at them, trying to get them to stay, trying to seduce them” —This came out in a tone that made it clear he found this particularly heinous.— “trying to steal their clothes. Not that that’d help, having a shirt with their scent on it. Yours doesn’t fill the room the way theirs do, and since I’ve still been pretty aware of what’s been going on I figured things might not get that bad, or at least not get there so soon, but after you fell asleep…”

He rubbed his stomach. “There wasn’t anything to distract me anymore, and the cramps just kept getting worse, since that was all I could focus on. I tried to scent your jacket, but it wasn’t cutting it, and I was just getting so frustrated.” He made a fist out of the hand on his stomach. “You think I’d be used to it, since I go through the exact same shit every six months, and it usually starts a helluva lot sooner than it did today, but I just… couldn’t handle it. The way I usually can’t, with Kev and Scott and… everything. So when you didn’t wake up the first few times I tried I… freaked out. A little. I knew you were sleeping, I knew you were sleeping, but the little omega hindbrain that’s gotten used to being left behind during his heat was convinced you were ignoring me on purpose and that it was only a matter of time before you walked out the door. So.” He shrugged again, like it wasn’t a big deal.

Bret, wanting nothing more than to grab a pillow and muffle his scream into it, settled for gritting his teeth for a moment or two and blowing out a breath through his nose. “Thank you for telling me.” His voice was only a little strained, and it earned him a tart laugh.

“Yeah, kinda regretting your whole honesty talk, now, huh?” Shawn said, sending him a smirk that clearly didn’t meet his eyes.

“No.” Bret was emphatic about that, and this seemed to not be what Shawn was expecting, as he blinked back at him, startled. “I’d be a fucking hypocrite if hearing you spill your guts made me suddenly wanna change my mind, Shawn, I know opening up doesn’t come easy to you. So, yeah, thank you for telling me. Did it at least help? Scenting me?”

“…Um.” It wasn’t quite speechlessness – rendering Shawn Michaels speechless was a feat in and of itself – but it came close. “…Yes? It… took a while, but it definitely calmed me down. I mean, I’m talking to you in whole sentences again and everything, now, in case you couldn’t tell.” Bret pinched his cheek again, and Shawn jumped, pouting a little and pinching his inner arm right back. His tone grew slightly more serious as he continued; “I don’t feel so shaky anymore, and I’m not as on edge. And my skin doesn’t feel too tight, either, just sore, and the cramps are better than they’ve been all day. Better than they’ve been in like a decade, really.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re a beta?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t actually scented someone during my heat since I first used to run with Marty, but he’s an omega, too, so they definitely never eased up like this back then, they just… stagnated. Never got worse, never got better.” He snorted, then continued under his breath, “And I thought the cramps were bad enough then to take something for the pain…”

…Huh. Well that sure hadn’t been a side effect either of them were expecting. Something occurred to him, then, and Bret’s eyebrows furrowed. “So you could’ve just been scenting me this whole time instead of using the fucking heating pad? That didn’t even help with your cramps that much anyway?!”

The laugh that startled out of Shawn was much more genuine. “I hadn’t even thought of that! I guess so. Guess you didn’t have to run back and forth from the kitchen the whole day after all.”

He waggled his eyebrows at him and snickered when he grumbled, and Bret let go of his face so he could push himself upright. Shawn’s hand didn’t leave his arm as he did so. “You’re a brat. Now let me get you some water and we’ll see if we can both get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Shawn repeated, sounding utterly baffled at the concept. He didn’t release him as Bret threw his legs over the side of the nest and eased himself to his feet, either. He was suddenly a lot colder, without Shawn’s significant body heat pressed up against him, and he stifled a shiver. “I’ve never been able to sleep once my cramps start.”

“Well, first time for everything,” Bret said, placing his hand on top of the one still gripping his forearm. He didn’t pry the fingers loose, just looked at Shawn, and watched as he swallowed and looked away. If he was telling the truth, and he really had gotten so worked up that he’d thought Bret was going to abandon him, before he’d managed to wake him up (and Bret couldn’t see why he’d lie), then his clinginess made perfect sense. Shawn, however, as earlier stated, would rather pull his own hair out then be vulnerable where someone else could see it. His instincts would be a source of shame for him, now that he was lucid again, despite the emotional tilt-a-whirl he’d just stepped off of.

“You can watch me go to the kitchen and back,” Bret told him, making sure not to soften his voice, not wanting Shawn to think he was pitying him, pitying the whiny little omega. (He didn’t know who the fuck had planted that bullshit in his head, but they and Bret were going to have words.) “I’ll be five seconds tops. You want me to turn the light on?”

“Ugh, no,” Shawn said, gradually slackening his grip, a second at a time. “That’ll fuck my eyes up for sure. Besides” —His tone turned teasing, here, and Bret braced himself.— “I don’t need a light to get a good look at your ass as you walk away.”

Bret groaned, slipping his arm free and smacking Shawn’s retreating one, making him laugh as he turned on his heel. Shawn, because he was a brat, started counting out loud not soon after, testing Bret’s claim of only taking five seconds. It actually took him nine, thank you very much, and when he got back he cracked open the bottle himself to spill some into his hand and flick it at him like he was a disobedient cat, earning a squeal and an attempt at squirming away from the cold water.

“Not fair,” Shawn muttered, pushing himself onto an elbow and taking the bottle when Bret held it out for him, not bringing it to his lips until he was settled back in the nest at his side. It felt like his strings were cut as soon as he laid down, and he closed his eyes and blew out a breath as his body sunk into the mattress, listening to the plastic crinkle as Shawn drank. He guessed being woken up so suddenly and thrust into such a stressful situation had left him more exhausted than he’d thought.

He felt Shawn shift, lean over him, heard the towels and pillows rustle, and then Shawn was tucking himself against his side, nudging his head up under his chin. “Go to sleep,” was murmured against his adam’s apple, and he grunted back, raising a hand to rest on Shawn’s lower back, feeling the heat of the skin against his palm, the softness of the peach fuzz under his fingers. He drifted off with Shawn’s thumb rubbing into his collarbone, with Shawn’s scent thick in his nose, with Shawn’s breaths, warm and damp, against the skin of his throat.

#speaking #my fics & hcs #bretshawn #bret #shawn #abo #hartbreak #series: off on and of course #book: rewind rewire reword #bret x shawn #bret/shawn #bret hart x shawn michaels #bret hart/shawn michaels #bhbk #the most anticipated chapter.... the one I've been editing constantly... the penultimate.....#just wait for chapters six and seven y'all're gonna lose your minds <3

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Text

Happy Holidays (Nathan Young x Reader)

A/N: Just a fun little Christmas party with the crew, referencing some things from the Christmas Special but not most of them, because we’re pretending they had a bit more of a nice, normal holiday. Winter Prompts: Gingerbread; Mistletoe Word Count: 2118 Cross Posted to AO3: here

Humming along to the carols belting out from the tv speakers in the next room, you bustled about the kitchen. Nathan had been barred from “assisting” you today while you made a variety of treats to bring to Simon and Alisha’s Christmas Eve get together later, after he ate as much of your sugar cookie dough as you managed to get onto the baking sheet. Your friends had been surprised when you offered to handle all of the desserts for the shindig, but you loved to bake and always looked for any excuse to. Besides, it had been a while since you’d done something elaborate, and you had a plan that, honestly, your friends would probably just dub cheesy.

The plan was gingerbread, but you set aside seven of the cutouts that you were going to turn into cookie-portraits. You wanted to make sure these were perfect, carefully rolling bits of gingerbread to create Nathan and Alisha’s curls, using a fine-point food color pen to draw on Curtis’s cross, custom mixing the shade of blue icing for Simon’s eyes. It was incredibly time-consuming, but honestly, you loved the work, and couldn’t wait to see their faces.

You were piping icing on some of the more generic gingerbreads when Nathan’s voice startled you, making you jump and leave a mess of icing smeared across one.

“Y/N!” you boyfriend whined from the next room. “Ye must be done by now. Ye’ve been at it for hours and I’m so bored!”

“Have you wrapped the gifts?” you called back.

You had a pretty good guess what his answer would be, but you weren’t letting him get away with doing no work to get ready for the party, or for Christmas dinner with his mom and her boyfriend (a prospect that still had you sweating, since this would be your first time meeting them as Nathan’s girlfriend).

“Why d’ they need ta be wrapped? It’s just gonna get torn off again. Figured we’d just stuff em in some leftover takeaway bags.”

“Nathan, we are not wrapping our presents to our friends and family in shopping bags.” You came to the kitchen doorway to glare at him, hands planted on your hips.

Suddenly he sat up from where he lounged on the couch, looking at you with a hungry gaze that made you swallow nervously, even as your stomach twisted in anticipation.

“Ya know,” he mused, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “I’m not one for food in the bedroom, but I might make an exception with ya lookin all cute and frostinged like that.”

“Don’t even start. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work,” you scolded.

He quirked an eyebrow, rising to his feet and stepping closer, a challenge written across his face.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, smirking as he got close enough that he was looming over you.

“Simon and Alisha’s party is in an hour and I’m nowhere near ready, the cookies aren’t done, and you still need to wrap the gifts for Secret Santa. I will not be distracted.”

“Yer face says otherwise. I see the way yer checking out the goods.” He leaned in, eyes drifting to your mouth. “We can be quick. Or fashionably late.”

“No. Absolutely not. I know how hard Alisha worked putting the whole thing together, I am not ruining it by being late because you're too horny for your own good.”

Suddenly he surged forward, licking a long stripe along your cheek. Recoiling, you grimaced and wiped aggressively at your face in an attempt to get the saliva off.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I told ye, you look good enough to eat, all covered in frosting. Even better than the cookies. Couldn't help myself.” He shrugged, shoving his hands nonchalantly in his jeans pockets.

“You're disgusting.”

“Ye love it.” He grinned cheekily at you.

As much as you hated to admit it sometimes, he was right. Rolling your eyes, you headed back into the kitchen to finish decorating the gingerbread, trying your best not to think about his tongue on your skin, cheek or elsewhere.

“You didn't have to wear the sweater, you know,” you teased Nathan as the two of you rode the elevator up to Simon and Alisha's loft.

“I know, but ye gave it to me, so it's special. Plus it'll drive the others nuts with how hideous it is!” He chuckled, pre-amused at their reactions.

“Terrible,” you said, shaking your head ruefully.

He blew you a cheeky kiss before hauling open the door and making an ‘after you’ gesture. The next few moments were a blur of greeting hugs - especially from Alisha who was so excited to be able to actually hug you that she actually willingly gave one to Nathan as well - and being bustled about to set your things down (coats on the bed, presents under the tree, goodies on the counter). Keeping the littlest box with you, you sat down on the couch, and your friends gathered round curiously.

“I went a little overboard,” you said sheepishly as everyone settled in, Kelly on one side of you and Curtis on the other, the others taking up whatever spaces they could. “So...I made y’all something.”

They all leaned in as you worked the lid off the little tin, revealing your gingerbread creations.

“Oh!” Kelly shouted in surprise. “Y’ made little gingerbread us?”

“They’re so cute!” Alisha added, reaching in.

You grinned, passing them around, particularly enjoying Nikki’s shock that you had made one of her too.

“Of course I did,” you answered with a shrug. “You’re one of us now.”

“I didn’t know you could bake like this,” Curtis said, inspecting the details on his cookie.

You shrugged. “It’s just art in another medium. I love to, though. Used to want to open a bakery as a kid.”

You felt a familiar green gaze on you, Nathan watching in surprise and delight that there was still more for him to learn about you after all your time together.

“But you didn’t make one of yourself?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, I ran out of dough. Besides...self-portraits never come out well.”

“Is it cannibalism to eat these?” Nathan asked suddenly. “Because they look delicious.”

“Since it’s yourself, it would be autocannibalism,” Simon corrected.

“Unless you’re made of gingerbread, I don’t think it’s anything,” Nikki countered, rolling her eyes. “Except enjoying a cookie.” She turned to you and offered a rare smile. “It really was sweet, Y/N, thanks.”

You sipped at your eggnog, feeling warm and tingly from the heavy dose of rum Nathan had included when he poured it for you, amusing yourself by conjuring mistletoe over your friends’ heads at random. Curtis and Nikki seemed done with your antics after you had made them kiss about four times (every time Nikki seemed about to start in on Nathan), and you had played it safe with Kelly and Andrew since you weren’t sure where their relationship stood (still in that adorable newborn awkwardness if both their blushes were anything to judge by). Alisha and Simon on the other hand seemed thrilled by your game, basking in the sheer joy of being able to touch each other and happy to kiss as often as you grew something to prompt it.

Suddenly, Nathan flopped down beside you, bouncing the whole sofa as he brought his curly head to rest on your shoulder.

“I’m bored, Y/N,” he whined.

“You’re always bored, Nathan. Unless we’re shagging. And I’m not about to do that here,” you countered, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

He was silent, and you could feel him shift uncomfortably, settling further into the cushions and crossing his arms petulantly.

“Nathan…” you said threateningly, ready to demand he talk to you if you had to and sleep on that very couch if he wouldn’t.

“I just can’t help noticin’,” he grumbled. “That everyone else is gettin’ plenty o’ kisses, courtesy of ye, but I’m not gettin’ any.”

You laughed. “When you say it like that it sounds like I’ve been snogging all of our friends.”

“That’s not what I mean. But I’m glad my pain amuses ya.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing at his dramatics. But he was right about one thing. Somehow you two had managed to go the whole party without kissing. Suddenly he thrust himself up off the sofa, still clearly frustrated.

“I’m gettin’ more cookies,” he said, half-storming off.

“Is he really upset that you haven’t spent the whole party snogging him?” Alisha said a moment later, sitting down in the spot Nathan had vacated.

“Apparently,” you sighed. “I should probably go talk to him…”

“Let him stew for a bit,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s an ass and totally deserves it.”

Twenty minutes later, you were surprised to notice that Nathan still hadn’t come back, and glancing around the room, that there was no sign of him. Your gut twisting nervously at the idea that he might have actually been upset with you, you started asking around to see if anyone knew where he’d gotten to. Curtis told you that he went out for a smoke and you grimaced, sliding your boots back on to follow your errant boyfriend.

“Nathan?” you called into the darkness, squinting to see if you could spot any sign of him and shivering at the winter chill. “Are you out here?”

“Over here,” he answered.

Following the sound of his voice, and now spotting the faint glow of orange from the end of his cigarette, you made your way over to where he leaned against the side of the building.

“Hey,” you said, pausing to stand in front of him, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans.

“What are ye doing out here, Y/N?” he asked, reaching out to pull you closer.

Instinctively, you stepped into his space. Trying not to let him feel you shiver, you wrapped your arms around his waist under his coat, feeling immediately warmer.

“Looking for you. I felt bad about our little tiff earlier…” you admitted sheepishly.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyways.”

You bit your lip, hating how sad he sounded when he said it and afraid it was about to turn into one of those self-deprecating moments.

“We’re supposed to be partners. I should have been paying more attention to how you were feeling,” you argued.

“What I’m feelin like right now is that we should get inside before ye turn into a popsicle.”

“Nathan, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N. It’s fine, let’s just go back up.” He wrapped an arm around you to hold you closer and leaned in to purr in your ear. “Unless you’re ready to blow the place and go home? I can finally give you your Christmas present?”

You shivered with desire as much as the cold. “I left my coat upstairs.”

“Who cares? I’ll keep ye warm while we walk.”

“It’ll take two minutes to go back for it. And then we can say goodnight.”

“Fine, but I’m only comin with to make sure ye don’t get dragged back into a conversation and forget.”

You sensed it before the elevator door even opened, and couldn’t help the sly smile that crept across your face.

“What’s with that look?” Nathan asked, arm still in place around your middle.

“Nothing,” you said impishly as you stepped out into the room.

For once your upward gaze wasn’t solely to look at your boyfriend, instead moving past him to the plant hanging above your heads.

“Well, that,” you said, nodding to it.

Thick brows knitted in confusion, he followed your eyes.

“Oh ho ho ho, what’s this then?” he turned back to you with a smirk. “Trying to con me inta kissin ye, are we?”

“Nope. That sprig? Wasn’t me.”

“What do ya think we should do then?”

“With all the shit we’ve been through this year, I can tell you what we shouldn’t do, and that’s tempt bad luck.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond (after all, banter was fun, but you had better things in mind), you stretched onto your tiptoes to plant your mouth on his. Kissing you back, Nathan tightened his grip to pull you flush against him and ran his tongue over your lower lip. Eagerly, you parted your lips for him and he groaned as your tongues danced together.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nikki chimed in after a moment, reminding you that you and Nathan were still at a party and decidedly not alone. “Some of us want to keep down our Christmas dinner.”

#I just want them to have a nice chill time #no drama #no creepy Jesus guy #happy holidays #also revealing a bit more about the reader #and doing cute/silly things with her powers #Nathan Young x Reader #Misfits fic #winter prompts

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chaotic-trav · 3 years

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Tell me about your story

U mean the novel I'm writing or my life story? Cuz I think I should probably stop myself from talking about my life story, sorry. However my novel on the other hand is smh that I will happily talk about.😌

Haha, tbf with you I haven't completely figured that shit out. But I have a good idea of what I want it to be. All the MC's are a part of the LGBTQIA+ community 😌. No one is straight...except for a few people. Otherwise everyone is gay.

For the main characters you got, Livia, Melissa, Eduard, Alexade also goes by Jamie, Rigel and Corlac the twins, Scott, Jacy, Nora...should I count Marsina? I'm counting her.

So basically, there's this magical world, where everyone with magic and powers live. However people with non magical parents do exist, and it's some people's job to find them and get them there. Some people are magical, but there can be a bit of issue finding them, so sometimes they find you when your at like your adulthood. Two of the MC's get found at twelve and have magical parents and the other two at fourteen and have non magical ones. There's a bunch of powers in this world. Like kheimokinesis which is basically winter powers, Argokinises which is firepowers, Aquakinises which is water powers, Mentokinises which means that u can literally control the whole brain, Aestakinises which is summer powers and so many more. There's also magic, which is different from powers. Magic is just the normal stuff like moving things and spells. They could do the same thing with people as powers but it would take more concentration and effort on their part then someone who can do it instinctively. In a way it's the same way for everyone, because it's harder to use some other powers than your own. Especially if it's the opposite of your own. Oh and everyone needs to know spells, to do magic, in the beginning. Overtime their magic gets stronger and they can just easily with concentration do it.

Some people just have magic and no powers. Some people have two powers and are known to be extremely powerful. Some have powers, but it's like the opposite of themselves, which is a disease. Your powers are supposed to symbolise who you are as a person, they're supposed to symbolise certain aspects of your personality. For some people they don't, they are the complete opposite of who they are. It can be just a little bit harder for them to control their powers. Just a little tho.

There are also levels for magic, up to twenty. Level one is the second highest and level twenty is the lowest. The highest is level Virvanda, and people of that level only appear once a century. Of u get lucky they come twice. There are also cursed Virvandas. Virvandas throughout history have been someone who put the greater good above everything, who were ready to do whatever that needed to be done and were supposed to not care for mercy and be a bringer of justice. Cursed Virvandas are basically people, who cared more about the people than they love than the greater good, who were merciful and always ready to give a second chance. People would have loved them if somehow they didn't end up causing the demise of so many things, and themselves. So basically people hate cursed Virvandas, because in their eyes they are a bringer of doom....more will be told in the story on why that kept happening.

There's a war going on. But it's not like this side is wrong and evil and that one is right and good war. Because dammit I'm tired of seeing those. It's basically just that. A war. Neither side is fully right and neither is fully wrong. Not gonna elaborate anymore on that.

There's this prophecy, but it's like a dark prophecy. All of the MCs in the prophecy's words are supposed to be evil. But yeah the prophecy might or might not be defied😌. Well not all of the MCs. Livia who is also Virvanda level is supposed to bring them peace but she's also cursed and loves all of the other MCs alot so she'll probably give her best into defying the prophecy.

I'm going to now go on a ramble about Livia who's most definitely not the most main and most beloved for me. ( I am so sorry about all my rambling)

She's an atheist who grew up in a toxic and mildly abusive household, she is also bi but will discover this later on. She's like I said cursed Virvanda. she's going to hate being called that and just be like fuck u I'm Livia erelans, that's my name, call me by that. she also has anxiety and will get depressed as the story goes on. Loads of trauma for her. She wants to be an author. She loves reading and is in so many fandoms. Loves cats. Always there to help out. Does not work well under pressure. Got anger issues. She's also someone who's like always trying to hide their problems. Can be a indecisive. Badass and nice as hell. Won't hesitate to call you out on your shit. Chaotic mom friend. Can sometimes do things without thinking. She is kheimokinesis. Feminist. Insecure. Self deprecating. Cares more about others than herself. Will stand up for any cause that she thinks us right. Creative as hell. Gotta learn to love herself. Just so tired and done with everything but will still get excited about stupid things. She keeps fighting for what she believes in even after going through so much trauma and gives so many second chances. Loves to daydream and the colour sky blue and the sky itself. She also loves to stragaze and listening to music. Bad at maths and drawing. I absolutely love her and she is def my favourite character to write.

Basically that's my MC for u. A beautiful human being that I love....if I ever finish that book and if u already don't hate my guts after reading all this, then you can read that and find out about the others yourself....if u feel like reading the bullshit that I will write. If u don't that's okay too. Thank u for this ask tho, it made me extremely happy🥺🥺.

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thereluctantinquisitor · 3 years

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4 and/or 49 for the micro story prompts, for Adiran and/or Riin? :D

Thank you for the prompt! It took me a while to think of something but it is finally here! For context, this scene takes place before the tournament, but after Adiran’s older brother has returned to the palace. Adiran was a bit more of a mess than usual for that frame of time, and wanted nothing more than to get away from it all, even if only for a while...

4. one chance AND 49. nightfall

Most evenings, Adiran spent his time in quiet reflection. And by quiet reflection, he meant locking himself in his chambers with a bottle of something that wouldn’t be missed and the shelve of books Leisha had been collecting for him ever since he’d been limited to the palace grounds. Normally, that would be enough to get him by until dawn, when he’d wake with a throbbing headache and just enough regret to make the morning miserable.

But things weren’t normal anymore. It wasn’t enough.

Nothing ever seemed like enough.

It was almost like sleepwalking, the way he ‘woke up’ from his usual routine to find himself cloaked and standing in the shade of one of the pines in the eastern garden. It was just past nightfall. Almost time.

Adiran could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Mindlessly, he pressed a hand over it, as though to still it. Smother it. Divider - do something with it, because he just realised he hadn’t even figured out what he was going to say, or how he was going to convince him, or---

“Adiran? Is that---”

“ ---Shhh! Idiot - shut up.”

As far as winning Riin over went, opening with a hissed insult probably wasn’t the wisest move. But with his heart in his skull and his hands damp with sweat, finesse was so far from Adiran’s grasp that it might as well have sprouted wings and flown across The Pale. Instead, he grabbed Riin by the sleeve and pulled him out of the torchlit path, into the shadow of one of the trees.

The branches were so low that Riin had to duck slightly just to clear them. To his credit, he hardly seemed fazed by Adiran’s sudden appearance. At least, not in the way Adiran had expected. Instead of getting angry or irritated by the interruption to his routine, Riin’s surprise melted away almost instantly. Instead, a familiar expression replaced it. One Adiran really didn’t need right now.

“What are you... are you alright? Adiran, did something happen?”

And there it was, right on schedule. The guilt. Adiran felt it like a knife to the gut. He could see Riin not-so-subtly trying to get a better look at him, squinting in the dark. “No, I’m... nothing’s wrong.” After having spent so much of the past three years with him, he could sense the man’s desire to push back the hood of his cloak. Reveal whatever ugly mark lay beneath it. Pre-emptively, Adiran reached out and grasped him by the wrists, his voice urgent. “I’m serious, Riin. It’s not what you’re thinking, okay?”

Riin searched his eyes for a moment, not resisting the makeshift restraint, but clearly skeptical. And who could blame him? It was more than a little strange for Adiran to ambush him on his usual trip out into the city. For years, he’d gone every half-turn, reliable as Valcretian clockwork. And he went alone. “Then maybe,” Riin said eventually, “you can help me out, and tell me what I should be thinking.”

Stomach lurching, Adiran released him and stepped back, almost running into the trunk of the tree in his haste. “Fuck. Right. I’m just -- I mean, I just want to...” Flustered, his eyes darted quickly to the palace, the wall, the unmanned side-gate. Focus. Damn it, he only had one chance at this. Convincing him. He couldn’t afford to screw it up.

It seemed he already was, because concern was all but etched into the lines of Riin’s face. “Adiran, I know you said not to worry, but you’re really starting to---”

--- “Take me.” The words rushed out of him before he even had a chance to check their credentials, but at the stunned look on Riin’s face, the rest hurried to catch up. “With you! Take me with you. To the city. Wherever it is you’re going. I don’t care. Just... take me too.”

The initial shock of what sounded like a very different kind of proposition was frozen on Riin’s face for a moment, his eyes wide, lips parted in what could have conceivably been the beginnings of a smile. A laugh. Disbelief. Something like that. But, after a few beats, the expression slowly faded, leaving the two of them standing there in the growing dark, nothing but the sound of trickling water and stirring insects dared share their company.

It just so happened that any silence, no matter how small, was too much for Adiran to bear right now.

“Forget it,” he snapped suddenly. Hands sweating. Chest aching. He had to get out of here. “Look, just forget I said anything. This was...” Stupid. So utterly, completely, fucking stupid. Standing there now, faced with the reality of what he was asking, a thousand uncomfortable truths seemed to crash down on his head. Riin’s contract was with his father. Not him. He shouldn’t have come here - shouldn’t have said anything at all, yet alone asked him to defy the King because... what? Because he felt like he was losing his mind? Felt pathetic? Felt utterly, crushingly lonely?

So fucking what.

“This was a mistake, okay?”Adiran continued, already bundling his cloak around him like a useless shell. “I know you can’t. I get it. I’ll just...” Mid-sentence, Adiran made what he assumed would be a fatal mistake. He looked up. Met Riin’s gaze, and found him...

... smiling?

“Oh - are you finished? If you need a little longer to, ah...” Wrinkling his nose, Riin made a vague gesture - a little like throwing something up, if Adiran was to be perfectly honest. Regardless, it was startling enough to stem his flood of words before he drowned in them. “I can wait, is what I’m saying,” Riin elaborated quickly, eyes glittering in the dim light. “It’s better you do this here, rather than down there in some tavern. There’s no need for awkward explanations when it’s just the two of us under a tree.”

Rather than down in some... wait... was he...?

“Wait... are you serious? Riin, if you’re caught doing this...” He should be elated! This was what he wanted, right? But instead, Adiran found himself shaking his head, some wordless instinct still trying to drag him back inside. Back to his chambers. Back to another night alone, where it was quiet and cold but safe. Honestly, he didn’t know what would happen if they were discovered defying the King’s orders. He doubted his father would sever his contract with a Kyriin - especially not so close to its successful completion. Worst case scenario, he’d probably end Riin’s duty as his training partner, and return him to loitering at his side like some miserable Crownsguard. But even that... “Damn it. I shouldn’t have asked. We both know I’m a selfish prick, so just do me a favour and forget I was even here.”

“Mmm, yes. How selfish of you, to be this worried about my well-being. You truly are your father’s son.” Even in jest, they both cringed slightly at the remark. “Sorry, I... what I mean is... it has been three years, hasn’t it? Has the King even told you when he plans to put an end to this?”

Sighing tightly, Adiran shook his head. “You know him about as well as I do. He doesn’t let things go.”

“You have already been punished more than enough for what happened.”

“Somehow, I doubt he’d agree.” A familiar sick feeling stirred in his stomach. “Riin, my father killed a man - hanged him in the square - just to send me a message. Just to make a point. This...” Swallowing, Adiran felt his gaze being pulled back towards the palace. “This is nothing. Not compared to that. I shouldn’t be out here.”

How could he possibly complain? He was alive. Breathing. That was more than could be said for others who had crossed the Talveran King.

Suddenly, there was a weight on his shoulder. Warm. Steady. It drew him back to the garden. Back to the tree and the trickling water and the cicadas. “You are not to blame for what your father did, Adiran.” Riin squeezed gently, leaning forward to catch his gaze. “And believe me, you are far from the first person to find themselves in a drunken brawl. Neither you or the other man deserve what happened. What is still happening.”

“But I---”

“Did you kill him? The man you fought.”

Adiran looked away. “I might as well have.”

“No - look at me.” Clenching his jaw, Adiran resisted for a moment, wishing they weren’t having this damned conversation, before finally giving in just to get it over with. “Good,” Riin said. “Now, did you order the hanging?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then what did you demand?”

“Demand?“

“As compensation for your injuries.”

“Divider’s Own, Riin - nothing! We were drunk, and yeah, we acted like a couple of assholes. But I... I figured the city guard was just going to hold him until he sobered up. I didn’t even know I’d been recognised---”

Another squeeze, firmer this time. Adiran broke off, realising he was breathing hard. Too hard. Hard enough to have been mid-sprint. Nodding rapidly, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down. Tried to focus on Riin’s unnatural warmth. His hand on his shoulder. His voice, softer now, as he spoke again. “Adiran... I’m taking you with me tonight. Okay? In truth, I’ve wanted to for a long time.” Something brushed gently against his jaw - the back of a finger? - prompting Adiran to raise his chin and reopen his eyes. “Listen to me. You need this. I’m glad you’re here.”

What more could possibly be said? To deny the truth was pointless. And with those amber eyes staring straight through him, how could he even begin to try?

“Why?” was all he managed instead, and the answer was delivered with a frown. Not of anger, but genuine confusion.

“Why am I glad?”

“No, I mean... why?” Realising, with the help of Riin’s flat stare, that he was being far from helpful, Adiran grunted and forced himself to try again. “You... you know the risks. Why would you agree to this at all?”

To his surprise, Riin relaxed. It wasn’t quite the reaction Adiran had expected; after all, it wasn’t exactly an easy question. But when Riin’s smile returned, warm and soft and reassuring, it suddenly seemed like it was.

“Because you asked me to.”

That was it? Just because he asked? Divider’s Own, that wasn’t a reason! Not a real one.

Was it?

As the silence lingered, Riin eventually arched one dark brow, something akin to amusement in his eyes. “Do you... need some other reason?”

Fuck, he was infuriating sometimes. Completely insufferable. Folding his arms across his chest, Adiran snorted and looked away, doing his best to reassert some kind of control over the mess he’d created. “I mean, it’d probably make me feel better about losing my shit before, yeah.”

Sometimes it was strange, how much Riin appreciated unfiltered honesty. Surprised, he started to laugh, then caught himself, glancing around gingerly, making sure he hadn’t given them away. “Well,” he continued more conservatively, turning back, “it’s a nice evening, and we’ve got a fair walk to where I planned to go tonight. We should head out.” Smiling, he slid his hand from Adiran’s shoulder to his back, applying just enough pressure to coax him gently towards the side gate. “I’ll try to come up with something better along the way.”

“Uh-huh. You’d better.” Adiran rolled his eyes, but they both knew his heart wasn’t in it. Not really. Because what better reason - what better words than the five Riin had already given - could possibly be said?

No, Adiran decided as they slipped through the gate and he found himself free of the palace for the first time in three years. To deny the truth really was pointless.

#micro story prompts #stonebreaker series #reluctant writes #reluctant replies #adiran #riin #they care about each other so much that it is physically painful #but Adiran would rather die than admit it #and Riin would shout it from the peak of a mountain if he knew Adiran wouldn't climb all the way up just to push him off #thanks for the prompt! sorry it is so far from micro hahahahah *Sweats*#<3 #the-fluffynug #ya boi is stressed

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elencelebrindal · 4 years

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What about the 17th century Gold saints if they come back to life and see the world and everything that they know change? And what they will react and meet to the classic 20th gold saints?

I’m so sorry for taking so long to answer this, I’m having a ton of issues and cannot concentrate on long posts. I’m also sorry about any mistakes you may find in this, I kept forgetting what I was writing and how I was writing it. Stress is a beast.

Also... I assume you meant TLC or ND, but that XVII century throws me off. Maybe you meant XVIII? I panicked and double checked, and there’s no XVII century Saints side from the XVII century alterative (aka Sage, if the internet is not betraying me, I’m not good with dates). I went with TLC.

First of all, they will ask themselves “where the hell are Shion and Dohko?!”, because obviously they will be missing. Since, you know, they didn’t die back then. And... the premise is: everyone’s back to life. The only moment in time where the Golds were almost all together as adults was during the Sanctuary Battle, and half of them died in 12 hours. Before that, with Pope Ares being a tyrant and half the Sanctuary being empty, doesn’t work. Shion is a bit of a problem, so there’s two options: either his old friends get traumatized again upon knowing he was assassinated, or traumatized again because they learn he became a Specter (kinda). Or both. Pretty sure that at least one of them, if Shion presents himself wearing a Surplice, will instinctively punch him. They don’t even realize it’s him, they just see the Surplice and all their fight or flight responses light up more than a beacon. And then they’ll be traumatized again upon learning Shion was Pope before dying.

Dohko... well, how would you react upon discovering one of your companions didn’t die, but stayed alive and well thanks to Athena’s misopethamenos? Minus the accidental punching, obviously.

Anyway, once they finally get over that shock, it’s time for them to check out the world and the other Saints. And of course, they start from the beginning.

Aries Temple At least a couple of them will mention how Mu resembles Atla (same thing I did when I saw the kid, after all). Then, they will ask about his master, because obviously he’s Shion’s successor, so bring in another shock. Mu is Shion’s disciple. Great. They keep getting showered with Shion knowledge without even searching for it, and every single piece of information is a punch in the gut. They will leave with a dumbfounded expression on their faces, onward to the next temple.

Taurus Temple Rasgado will be absolutely jealous of Aldebaran’s name. He gets to have it since birth, who wouldn’t be jealous of that? They immediately bond, though. They’re both good-hearted people, after all, even if ready to wreck everything if they need to. Manigoldo really likes his sense of humor.

Gemini Temple Now, for this I’m in bit of a pickle. I don’t know if Aspros and Defteros are both there, if there’s only one of them, I don’t know. The fact the both Saga and Kanon have been the Gemini Saint doesn’t help either. Let’s say this. If they meet Saga, they will like him as a Saint. Powerful extremely skilled, with a great mind? All of them are going to appreciate such a man. And then, they learn about him as a tyrant, and collectively take a step back. If they meet Kanon, Athena please help them. Someone will try to punch him. Kanon will trap them in his labyrinth because there’s no way he’s going to let Aspros pass without testing him (I know, poor Aspros, but I love doing this to him). He’s going to bond with Kardia, though. They can both brag about how they defeated Rhadamanthys, even though Kanon will emphasize that he actually killed him.

Cancer Temple Please, someone take Manigoldo away from this wretched place. As soon as they step in, Manigoldo will either faint from shock upon hearing all those distressed laments, or try to kick Deathmask in the jewels for keeping innocents as trophies. There’s no way the whole ordeal could end well.

Leo Temple Immediately after seeing Regulus, Aiolia will pat him on the head. No one can resist Regulus, not even him, I won’t change my mind. And then onward to more serious stuff. Precisely, Aiolia will talk with all of them, to make sure they’re actually the real Gold Saints, and there’s a high probability he’s going to ask for a fight just to be even more sure. Just like he did with Athena, back then.

Virgo Temple Remember when I told you that Shaka, in my humble opinion, is the most powerful Gold Saint of his generation? Close to the gods? Well, at least a couple of them will hesitate before stepping inside his temple, because his cosmo is terrifying. Asmita, though... he’s curious. He’s going to step in and stand in front of Shaka, comparing his cosmo to his own, trying to understand him. Of course, as soon as he learn that his eyes are closed, Asmita will ask if he’s blind or just chose to keep them shut. They’re probably going to have the longest conversation of the group, both yearning to learn about how the other uses his cosmo and fights. And, Shaka uses that time to test them, again, because he needs to protect Athena and the best way to do that is to be careful. Libra Temple They met Dohko before reaching it. I didn’t specify it at the beginning of the post.

Scorpio Temple Milo and Kardia? Oh boy, someone’s getting hurt. Kardia, being the reckless fighter he is, will definitely want to fight his successor. Just to see how different they are. Cue Degél being forced to stop him because “there’s no way I’m going to drag your sorry ass when your heart catches fire”, and Milo watching as his “older” counterpart gets frozen in place. Though, he will tell Kardia how amusing the coincidence of both of them being close to an Aquarius is (friendship, love, whatever you want, these two are close).

Sagittarius Temple Right after meeting each other, how long do you think it’ll take for Aiolos and Sisyphus to start talking about their family? To brag about how much they love their lions? Don’t get Aiolos wrong, though. He is going to be the hardest Gold Saint to convince. He has to make sure they’re not there to hurt Athena, even if he trusts his companions. They will read his testament, and most of them will finally realize how painful and horrible those years of tyranny were for the Sanctuary. They will think about how Shion made the Sanctuary a livable place, and how Ares destroyed everything and betrayed everyone. Sisyphus will be the most shocked of the group, thinking back to when he took Sasha away from his family because Athena was more important, seeing himself both similar to Aiolos and completely different. It ends with a melacholic feeling permeating all the past Saints.

Capricorn Temple El Cid and Shura talking about their Excalibur is the first thing that happens. Who has the best sword? They keep arguing about it (El Cid more calmly) until Sisyphus intervenes. As soon as he learn the Shura gave Excalibus to a Bronze Saint, though, El Cid almost loses his cool. The encounter goes on without other accidents, luckily, so the Gold Saints can pass.

Aquarius Temple Degél and Kardia, thanks to what Milo told them at his temple, will try to understand what kind of person is Camus. Only to be confused and surprised at how a cold and calm man like him could actively be close to someone like Milo. Of course, right after they realize it’s the same situation they live in, so everyone moves on to more serious stuff, aka Degél trying to understand what happened in their Holy War, since learning from Saga wasn’t an option and Deathmask risked getting knocked out of existence by Manigoldo. Obviously, the Golds of the past are even more horrified to know that, aside from Shion, five more Gold Saints chose to betray Athena, even if they didn’t really stand by Hades’ side. Sisyphus especially, since he actually experienced what was like being covered by a Surplice (I loved that scene, I have to pay homage to it). They also learn about the Athena Exclamation used to kill one of their companions, though Camus avoids telling them of the second time they used it. After this, once the shock subsided, it’s time for the last temple.

Pisces Temple The very first thing Albafica will do when stepping in that temple is ask Aphrodite how he manages to live the life of a Pisces Saint. There’s two possible options for this: the more canon approach, where Aphrodite doesn’t have poisonous blood, so the answer Albafica receives cannot be applied to his experience; my own approach, where Aphrodite was born with poisonous blood, and he can tell Albafica that it’s not as dangerous for other people as it might seem to him, because the problem resides in his blood, not in his general person. On a more general note, Albafica will have a good conversation with him and will actually approach him, since they’re both Pisces Saints. His companions leave him be, because it’s the first time that Albafica gets that close to someone without feeling on edge, and even though they end up feeling a bit ill upon knowing Aphrodite was one of the real traitors of Athena in the past, they’ll leave with no incidents happening.

I know this is a way more generic approach to the topic compared to what I would actually write, but I don’t have a clear mind at the moment and it’s difficult for me to concentrate too much on sigle characters and situations. Also, there is one main issue with these Saints coming back to life that I didn’t tackle: how their mentality is out of place in a way more modern time like the XX century. This is too difficult for me to elaborate now, especially with a serious approach (I often see the TLC Saints being thrown into the XX or XXI century with a comedic intent, instead of a serious one, so I don’t know how other people deal with the issue), so I avoided it. Another problem is how Dohko and Shion would react to them. For the TLC Saints is not that big of a deal, they died back then, but Shion and Dohko survived. They outlived them, they saw them die. I made it sound really simple in this post, but I believe this kind of emotions cannot be easily summed up in a couple sentences. And there’s the fact that some of the classic Golds betrayed Athena, a very heavy topic for a Gold Saint. Again, I made it sound simple, from Ares to the Holy War, but in reality this would take a much bigger toll on past Saints coming back. How would you react upon knowing that your successors, the people you hoped were going to protect Athena after your death, not only didn’t follow that path but also tried to kill her? It would take some time for them to understand how those Saints got a redemption.

Again, I’m sorry for the terrible amount of time that passed since you asked me this, dear anon. I always answer asks, but sometimes I don’t have time to do so as soon as I get them. I hope you found this at least a bit interesting, and I hope I didn’t misinterpret what you asked me.

Have a good day, guys!

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #the lost canvas #gold saints

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