#except for that brief hug and reassurance in that last fic there but still | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silenzahra · 25 days ago

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⚡ An electrical aura ⚡

Ah, it feels so good to be back with a new story after so long! 😌

As I mentioned here, in this fic you will find one of my favorite topics to consume in any kind of fanwork:

✨⚡ Protective Luigi ⚡✨

I would've liked to post this story a couple of days ago to coincide with Mario and Luigi's birthday (even though the story has nothing to do with the date itself) as a way of celebrating their bond as brothers that we all love and adore so much 🥹💚❤️

Still, I'm glad I can share it now as this is one of the many fanfics I've been planning to write... for more than a year 😶

And at long last, here it is! 😄

@pepperycar @bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @megamagimugi @roscolate

@peaches2217 @zocchini37 @itsavee4117 @keakruiser @multicolour-ink

@dragon-fly34 @eleventhhourfactor @stripetkattelalala54-gf @kelbreyworshipper @doodleydoo101

@c-lavanda @teegeeteegee and anyone else who might be interested: hope you enjoy! 💖

And as always: you can keep reading under the cut if you'd like! 👇

(Please remember that likes, comments, kudos, reblogs and any kind of feedback is always more than welcome 🥰)

⚡ An electrical aura ⚡

TW: Blood, violence (not too much though)

Luigi doesn't like being separated from his brother.

It was hard enough having to leave him behind when he got sick to go in search of the antidote. Luigi swallows as he remembers how scared he was when he saw Mario's skin turn green after consuming that strange mushroom and how his feet practically flew to the Mushroom Kingdom embassy, carrying his twin in his arms, to take him to the princess and try to get him help.

This time, however, at least Luigi has the comfort and relief of knowing that his brother is safe, even if he’s not at his side.

The moment they came across that first barred door, Luigi immediately understood that his twin wouldn’t have a chance to follow him, that he’d have to go on alone and that Mario would have to find his own way. Luigi gave him a glance full of consternation and, for a very brief moment, his brother returned exactly the same look. Before, of course, forcing himself to hide it so as not to show discouragement in front of his little brother and, instead, give him a reassuring grin.

Luigi smiles to himself as a pleasant tenderness spreads across his chest and warms his heart. That's his big brother: always ready to appear strong and confident to protect his younger sibling and not to worry him, all with the purpose of preventing Luigi’s anxiety from getting any worse.

Looking around, Luigi puts his hands to his chest in some sort of reflex action, trying to keep the warmth that the thought of his brother brings up inside him. For, not to his luck, everything around him is ice and more ice. Joke’s End is an inhospitable, deserted, cold place. It certainly serves its purpose of functioning as a kind of graveyard for jokes, for while the other places in the Beanbean Kingdom that he and Mario have visited had much more cheerful names and were also full of life, this place is far from the mainland and, except for the monsters and that strange blue girl with the scepter that has greeted them, it’s also the loneliest place in the entire kingdom.

Luigi hugs himself as he continues looking at his surroundings with a parched throat and a sense of dread growing inside him. He’s never felt so alone in his entire life.

He only hopes that this ordeal is about to end. He followed the path marked by the place itself, hit the necessary blocks and battled alone against various monsters, despite the insecurity produced by not having his twin with him so that they could perform their combined attacks.

Not to mention the several occasions on which he’s been able to see Mario through a barred door without either of them finding a way to bridge the distance between them. All those times, Luigi has clung to the bars as if he could make them disappear in his fingers so he could finally be reunited with his brother, and Mario hasn’t hesitated to approach him and place his hands on his twin’s, gazing at him affectionately while he gave him words of encouragement and, again, smiles filled with confidence.

“Soon we'll be together, Lu,” he assured him, and Luigi could practically touch the certainty that permeated every word his brother spoke. “We'll soon find a way, you'll see.”

Despite his anxiety and his many insecurities, Luigi has never doubted Mario. He always believes in his promises, unquestioningly, because he knows that his twin wouldn't tell him if he didn't truly believe in them and if he wasn't willing to do everything in his power to keep them.

And he always does. Mario has never, ever failed Luigi. Not once in their entire lives.

Therefore, Luigi trusts. He trusts Mario blindly, just as he has since the day they were born, and he’ll continue to trust him until the day he dies.

So that's what keeps him going: the certitude that Mario's words will come true sooner or later. The assurance that everything his brother tells him is as true as the sun will always rise at the end of the darkest night and the light will shine again. Just as bright as Mario’s smile.

This time, whether they manage to reunite depends on a strange puzzle that, once again, they must solve by working together, even though they’re physically separated. This is not the first time, of course: when they’ve seen each other through barred doors, it’s been because they had to hit twin blocks in unison in order to activate different mechanisms, and there have even been times when they haven’t been able to see one another but have felt each other's presence through the thick walls of ice that make up Joke’s End.

As Luigi hits this last block, he hears a sound coming from outside. Both he and Mario have just crossed walkways that ran parallel to each other and converged at two different doors in the building, and they’ve helped each other to move forward until they’ve reached, at least in Luigi's case, a dead-end room. After hitting the block, Luigi retraces his steps towards the walkway he has just crossed and discovers that a frozen bridge has emerged between the two.

“Yes!”

Luigi can't and won't hold back the squeal of relief and excitement that bubbles up from his throat. Without wasting any time, he runs across the footbridge to cross to the other side and begins to follow the path that Mario must have taken. He wonders if he’ll bump into his sibling, if he too has started running, if he’s as eager as Luigi is to hold him in his arms. The smile on the younger plumber’s face widens, for he’s sure that Mario feels the same way. He’s about to join his big brother in a tight embrace, and this time, he won’t let Mario get away from him again.

Then, as he climbs up some latticed platforms, a high-pitched scream rings in his ears and is suddenly cut off.

Due to the surprise, Luigi almost stops in his tracks as he feels how the air escapes from his lungs and an icy fist grips his heart. And it has nothing to do with the cold prevailing in the place.

It only takes him a moment, however, to resume running, giving his legs more speed.

“Mario!”

He leaps over some ice blocks and manages to reach the next room. He skids across the ice when he realizes that he’s at a high location and that, to his right and left, there are two sets of steps leading down to the bottom of the room.

And down there, right in the middle, is Mario.

The blood runs cold in Luigi's veins as he discovers his brother lying on the ground, completely motionless, with traces of dirt on his clothes and a red stain crowning his forehead, his hat fallen just short of his head. With a horrified gasp, Luigi doesn't give it a second thought: he runs to the edge of the step, bends down and jumps, landing in a crouch a short distance from where Mario lays. He moves practically on all fours towards his twin, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes so wide that he thinks they'll end up popping out of their sockets.

“Mario,” he mumbles in a nervous whisper.

He carefully places a hand under Mario's head and slowly lifts him up as he slides his knees under his body to try to give him some comfort. He pulls him closer as he continues to whisper his name, but his brother does not respond. There’s blood on his neck and one of his knees, Luigi notices. Feeling the anguish growing inside him, he examines the crimson stain on Mario's forehead, as it seems to be the most serious wound. His white glove is immediately covered in red. Wheezing, Luigi raises his hand in front of his face and stares at it, blinking in awe, as if his brain is having trouble processing what his eyes are seeing.

Mario's blood coats Luigi’s fingers.

The distress that floods him begins to transform, little by little, into something different. Something that causes small sparks of electricity to sizzle around him.

It is then that he becomes aware of their presence.

Luigi blinks a little to focus his eyes, as they’re blurry, he doesn't know why, and lowers his hand without any haste. He places it protectively on Mario's chest, which, fortunately, rises and falls, evidence that he continues to breathe, albeit slowly and heavily. Luigi pulls him a little closer to himself, his hand still holding his twin's head with extreme care. His breathing is getting more and more arduous and laborious, and his cheeks are getting wet, but he’s not even aware of it.

In front of him stand three of the many monsters that plague the place. Luigi has faced several of them before, both alone and in the company of his brother, so he recognizes them immediately. A Glurp, which spews toxic clouds that have on occasion poisoned him or Mario, causing his sibling to be extremely grateful for Luigi's efforts to carry extra Refreshing Herbs in their luggage. An Ice Snifit, whose spiky chunks of ice have frozen his soul and against which only his brother's Firebrand has been effective enough to eradicate its effects.

And lastly... a Clumph.

His green skin makes Luigi think of a nurse’s uniform. His purple hair reminds him of a bunch of grapes.

And finally... that huge club that he carries everywhere.

In all likelihood, this Clumph is the main reason why his big brother is lying unconscious in his arms.

Out of pure instinct, Luigi squeezes Mario a little tighter as his brow furrows. How dare that damned Clumph hurt his twin in such a way. How dare he stand there, in front of him, carrying his club on his shoulder as if he hadn't just dealt it with all his might on Mario's forehead. How dare he give him that goofy look with which he pretends to be completely innocent.

How dare he.

“How dare you,” Luigi mumbles without even being aware of it.

The particles of electricity around Luigi have increased in intensity and power. His breathing has accelerated so much that snorts escape from his mouth, and the hair on his arms has bristled under his green shirt. The plumber hears the roar of thunder, but he can’t tell where it comes from. He does take a glimpse of a glow that illuminates the place green, though. Without taking his eyes off the Clumph, Luigi reaches an arm over Mario to grab his brother’s hat and places it under his twin’s head as he lays him extremely gently on the ground. Then, taking his time, he stands up. His enemies don't miss his every move either, the Ice Snifit and Glurp ready to attack.

Luigi, however, is not going to give them the slightest chance.

His veins burn so much that he feels like he's going to explode at any moment. Rage has invaded every inch of his body and is spreading through his nerve endings like a thunderstorm that threatens to burst and destroy him in the process.

Luigi is more than willing to let it out.

He can't remember ever feeling this way, either before or after acquiring his Thunderhand, but he's not going to hold back. These enemies dared to touch his brother. They dared to attack him when Luigi was finally on his way to reunite with him. They dared to inflict Mario a wound that has robbed him of consciousness. They dared to spill his blood.

It will be the last thing they will do in their lives.

Anger controls his every move when Luigi unhurriedly steps over Mario's body and walks heavily towards his rivals, as if he were nothing more than a puppet in the hands of the strongest wrath. Although they try to look determined and ready to fight, the monsters sense the aura that surrounds Luigi, the aura of someone who is willing to do anything to get revenge, the aura of someone who will stop at nothing to protect what is most precious to him in the world.

An electrical aura that brings thunder at lightning in its wake.

As he walks, Luigi clenches his fists at his sides and rebellious sparks escape from them. He feels that both his mustache and his hair under his hat have bristled, and his cheeks are now so dampened that he feels them cold, but he doesn't care. He continues to move, his breathing harsh and uneasy, his heart pounding in his chest, and he feels an unexpected surge of satisfaction sweep over him when he realizes that his enemies, cornered, have bumped into the icy wall of the building surrounding them.

They have no escape.

Luigi's fury, on the other hand, does.

Growling under his breath, the plumber closes his eyes and allows the energy pulsing in his veins to take complete control.

His arms rise up, his palms pointing towards his enemies. Electricity courses through his body, surging from deep within him and rushing to his hands. Against all odds, a sense of warm calm invades Luigi as he feels his electric magic dance up and down, flooding every inch of his body, reaching every corner of his essence and causing a fleeting smile to play across his lips.

He has never felt so powerful.

Before the first streak bursts from Luigi's fingertips, his eyelids part, but there’s no trace of pupil in his gaze.

There’s only room for electricity.

Luigi's eyes are entirely white as his power begins, at last, to be released. Jets of light, sometimes blue, sometimes green, emerge from his hands, lethal, deadly, and it takes Luigi a moment to realize that he’s begun to emit a low snarl that, gradually, turns into a scream with which he frees all the emotions that boil inside him. The fear of losing his brother. The rage for what they’ve done to him. The thirst for revenge, which had never before blinded him so much.

In fact, Luigi realizes that everything he sees is white. An immaculate white, dotted with sizzling green and blue flashes, which prevent him from checking what his magic is doing, what his hands are causing. Nor is he able to perceive any sound, as if his ears were underwater, in a completely silent limbo that has cut him off from the outside world.

However, he quickly decides that he doesn't care. He doesn't care, because he feels invincible. He’s filled with fierce drive that fuels his power and begs him to go on, to not stop, to continue giving it free rein. The euphoria of the moment is so strong that it becomes addictive, something Luigi clings to with all his might.

It's all for his brother.

Mario deserves that and more. Mario deserves the whole world.

Despite Luigi’s blindness, which, he hopes, is temporary, the image of his twin appears clearly in front of him. His beloved Mario, always so cheerful and smiling, always ready to fight for those he loves, always ready for battle. Always determined to protect Luigi and spare him all harm, but also full of unshakable faith in his little sibling.

A faith that has always been Luigi's driving force throughout his entire life.

If it were not for Mario, Luigi simply wouldn’t believe in himself. If it were not for Mario, Luigi wouldn’t have learned to fight, both for himself and for those he loves. If it were not for Mario, Luigi would not be who he is today.

If it weren't for Mario, Luigi wouldn't be here right now.

So he's not going to give up. He’ll continue to defend his brother the same way Mario has always defended him. He won't let those damn monsters get close to his sibling again. He won't let them get a chance to hurt him again.

He won't let them get away with it.

However, as he unleashes all his power and his unstoppable energy travels through his body and gushes from his hands, Luigi empties himself. He empties himself of the fear of losing Mario forever. He empties himself of all his anger, of all his resentment against the beings who have dared to harm his twin. He empties himself of all his thirst for revenge.

And he empties himself, also, of his electric magic.

Which carries with it a great part of his vitality.

Luigi blinks several times as the sparks around his vision begin to dim and the blinding white gradually fades. Before he can see anything, however, he notices his knees hit the icy ground, his legs unable to support him, and he begins to become aware of the noisy panting he’s emitting. He closes his eyes again and squeezes his eyelids tightly shut as he brings a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart and regulate his rapid breathing. His entire body trembles violently, and he continues to see sparks, only, this time, there’s no trace of those green and blue flashes in them. All he sees is blackness and darkness.

A darkness so enveloping that it threatens to drag him into the deepest and most absolute unconsciousness.

Despite his exhaustion, Luigi can’t afford to faint now. This is no time to rest. He has to check what has happened while he was in that kind of electric trance, what has become of his enemies. He has to check in on Mario.

His brother needs him.

But the darkness is so tempting... What if he only lets himself be dragged along for a moment? Just enough to rest and regain his strength. Besides, his eyes are already closed. What's the difference if—?

“Lu?”

Luigi's eyelids flutter open as he lifts his head with a jerk. He only takes a moment to gaze at the frozen wall in front of him, empty, which makes him imagine that the monsters must have fled, frightened by the fierceness of his power.

But that’s not important now.

His head turns at lightning speed as he compels his exhausted limbs to move. In the midst of his wheezing, a wide grin blooms on his face as his eyes meet another pair, of the same limpid blue, gazing up at him in awe.

“Mario!” he exclaims.

Not wanting to waste any time, he propels himself onto the icy ground to stand up, only to drop to his knees again two seconds later, this time next to Mario. His brother watches him with half-opened eyes and a tired smile glistening on his lips as well. Luigi places a hand in his sibling’s hair, careful not to touch his wound so as not to hurt him more, and his heart fills with joy as he notices how his twin reaches for his hand.

When their fingers intertwine, they join with a force more sweeping than that of a hurricane and more intense than that of the most devastating thunderstorm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Was it you?”

The brothers share a few knowing laughs when they realize that they’ve spoken at the same time. They look at each other fondly, amused, and Luigi, feeling his heart calm at last, gladly gives the floor to his twin.

“I'm a little dizzy,” Mario confesses, his voice a faint murmur. “It hurts...”

He attempts to bring his free hand to his forehead, but Luigi gently restrains him.

“Don't touch it,” he asks, concerned. “You’re wounded, but I'm sure this will help.”

He begins to rummage in his pockets without letting go of his brother's fingers. He doesn't notice that his twin can’t take his eyes off him.

“Was it you, Luigi?” he asks again.

“What do you mean?” Luigi asks, pulling the fabric of his right pocket to try to get a glimpse of its contents.

“The electric shock,” says Mario. “I woke up and saw... Lightning bolts. Electricity. Blue... Green. And... I heard thunder.”

Luigi notices that his brother struggles to speak. Stressed, he begins to rummage in the chest pocket of his overalls, ignoring the fact that he feels exhausted too. Where the heck did he put them?

“Luigi.”

His twin's voice, tinged with a certain urgency, as well as the squeeze he gives his hand, cause Luigi to finally look up. He’s speechless when he notices the fixed, penetrating glance, bursting with curiosity, that Mario is giving him. He can’t help but be slightly startled and even blush, and immediately resumes his search.

“I-I don't know what happened,” he mumbles nervously, and he’s not lying.

“Lu, did you...?” Mario takes a few seconds to ask his question. “Did you just unleash a thunderstorm?”

As his fingers finally grab the 1-UP Super he was looking for, Luigi closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

The truth is that he has no idea what just happened. He only knows that several emotions swirled inside him the moment he saw Mario's blood staining his glove red, and that he experienced them in a more overwhelming and powerful way than ever before. He’s never felt that fire in his chest, that tingling in his arms, that sensation of being unstoppable that has taken over his soul and has demanded to gush from his hands with more force than ever.

Luigi had no clue he was capable of such a thing.

“Lu?”

Mario's voice urges him to open his eyes again. His heart shrinks in his chest as soon as he notices the lingering worry in his brother's eyes, not yet completely lucid, but enough to be worried by his silence. Luigi tries to smile and shrugs as he holds out the mushroom.

“It's nothing,” he assures his twin. “I'm fine, but you're not. Eat this.”

“Luigi.” Mario lifts his other hand to push away the shroom. “Tell me what happened. Please. What did I see?”

Luigi will never cease to be amazed that his brother, even with a bleeding wound on his forehead, can still display his innate strength. He knows Mario too well to know that he will never give up, that he’d still want to talk to him about what happened even if he were on the verge of unconsciousness. So, defeated, Luigi offers him a deal.

“Eat this,” he repeats, “and we’ll talk about it.”

Fortunately, his suggestion seems to appease Mario. After watching him for a few seconds, his brother eventually lowers his hand and allows Luigi to give him the 1-UP Super. Luigi knows how much his sibling dislikes the taste of mushrooms, but by now Mario has learned to tolerate it: he closes his eyes and swallows them almost all at once, and always lets out a little whimper of protest that warms Luigi's heart. Mario may be his older brother, he may be the bravest and most capable person he knows, he may have always protected him since they were little, but in some ways he still reminds him of a child.

And yet Luigi admires his sibling for being able to eat something he doesn't like. He struggles every time.

Within seconds, Mario's wound begins to heal. Luigi watches, dumbfounded, as the blood recedes and the skin practically regenerates, eliciting a small grunt from Mario that causes Luigi to squeeze his hand and stroke his hair in an attempt to comfort him. His brother purses his lips as he squeezes back, and Luigi smiles as he witnesses Mario trying to contain the pain and not show himself vulnerable despite the fact that, here and now, it's just the two of them.

To Mario's relief, the shroom soon completes its magic. With his forehead completely healed, Mario opens his eyes, once again glowing with his distinctive energy and vitality, and rests them on his twin. Luigi, however, is so relieved to finally see his older brother safe and sound that, as soon as he begins to sit up, Luigi throws his arms around Mario’s neck.

He doesn't even realize that he’s started to cry until he tries to speak and the lump in his throat prevents him from doing so.

Mario's laughter is like a balm that warms his heart. His brother laughs fondly and puts an arm around Luigi while he raises his other hand to pat him affectionately on his head. Still hugging him, Luigi smiles, and a strangled chuckle escapes his system as he swallows to try to quiet his crying.

“It's good to see you too, little brother,” Mario whispers.

He presses his cheek against Luigi's and Luigi closes his eyes, his heart fluttering in his chest. There's no telling where his smile ends and Mario's begins. He could stay like this forever, clinging to his sibling and feeling his twin's arms around him, providing him with a warmth more intense and comforting than that of the most blazing fire as they protect each other from any evil coming from the outside world.

Luigi needs nothing else to live.

After a few seconds, Luigi notices that his brother tries to pull apart from him to look him in the eye, but the younger plumber finds himself unable to stand up straight. His whole body feels strangely limp, as if it didn’t belong to him, and it’s impossible for him to do something as simple as opening his eyes.

Luigi then realizes that the fatigue caused by the force with which his electric magic has emerged from his body is causing the upper part of his body to slip to Joke’s End’s cold, icy floor, as both him and Mario are still on his knees, and he finds himself unable to break his fall. Mario's voice, full of alarm at his little brother’s condition, reaches Luigi’s ears muffled, and he just can’t make out his twin’s words. He does feel how Mario holds him tightly with one arm, trying to ground him, and Luigi finds himself clinging to him with what little strength he has left in his body. He rests his head on his twin's shoulder while he closes his eyelids, just for an instant, to rest for five minutes, nothing more.

For this reason he’s unable to resist when he notices that Mario brings something to his lips. Without hesitating, Luigi opens his mouth and allows his brother to give him what the green clad plumber immediately distinguishes as a 1-UP Super. He’s barely swallowed it when he begins to feel its effects: a small spark of energy springs up in his heart and starts to spread through his body in slow but intense waves, finally giving him back the vitality that the magnitude of his power had taken from him. Soon he’s aware of how Mario's arms support him while, in Italian, his brother whispers soft words of encouragement, waiting for the shroom to take effect with the little patience that Luigi knows his sibling has, but which he always displays when it comes to him.

Luigi lets out a small moan as he regains control of his body, holding on to Mario's shoulders to slowly sit up. He immediately hears his twin greet him as if he had just woken up, which, in fact, is not far from the truth.

“Hey,” Mario says softly, his tone full of gentleness. “Can you hear me, Lu? How are you feeling?”

Luigi notices Mario's fingers cupping his cheek and can practically feel the concern that tinges his voice. Still clinging to his twin's shoulders, Luigi hastens to smile, looking at him, and nods, wishing he could wipe all traces of worry from Mario's blue eyes in one fell swoop.

“I feel wonderful,” he declares.

His tone must be more convincing than he thought, because, in front of him, Mario's face begins to calm down: his frown relaxes, his eyes recover their usual spark, and a smile blooms on his lips that mirrors Luigi's, as if his brother were an earthly representation of the sun and he, the moon that feeds on his glow.

“Thank goodness,” Mario replies, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Both his voice and his face are brimming with relief. Luigi instinctively closes his eyes the instant he notices how his twin begins to tilt his head towards him. Warmness bursts in his chest as his forehead meets his brother's, and the smile that spreads across his face at the contact is wide, serene and placid. Despite the ice that surrounds them, despite the coldness that reigns in the place where they are, far from any trace of civilization, Luigi could almost swear that never before, in all his life, has he felt more wrapped up in the warmth provided by the mere presence of his older brother.

When, seconds later, the twins separate, they give each other wide and calm smiles, both filled with joy at being together again. Mario's expression, though, gradually turns into one full of curiosity.

“So...” he says before patting Luigi's back again. “It was a thunderstorm, right?”

Luigi can't help but cringe a little. How is he going to tell Mario about something he doesn't even know how it happened? In fact... should he? What if his brother starts to see him in a different light? What if...?

What if Mario stops loving him?

“W-well...”

He doesn't realize that he's started to fiddle with his hands, as he usually does whenever he's nervous, until he feels Mario's palm, warm and pleasant, resting on his fingers before gently squeezing them. Raising his head, Luigi meets the equally sweet and affectionate gaze of his brother, radiant with all the love he feels for him.

The sight is more than enough to soothe Luigi’s racing thoughts.

“Lulu,” Mario says, still smiling, “you don’t have to be ashamed. What you did was amazing!” he exclaims, chuckling smoothly as his eyes sparkle with excitement. “You unleashed a thunderstorm all by yourself, little brother. Do you realize how incredibly powerful you are?”

Luigi stares at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to process the reality of his twin's words.

Or, he corrects himself, trying to process the fact that Mario doesn't seem at all horrified by what his younger sibling just did.

“In fact,” Mario continues before Luigi manages to come up with a response, “you're so powerful, Luigi, that not only did you get me to wake up even though I had just been hit in my head, but you made the monsters run away. Or at least,” he adds as he looks to and fro, “I don't see them anywhere.”

Looking at Luigi again, Mario winks at him as he holds both of his brother's hands in his, Luigi's fingers resting on his left palm while his right continues to tap him lightly. Luigi blinks slowly and closes his mouth at last, for he wasn't even aware of having it wide open. A shy smile begins to bloom on his lips.

“They fled like cowards in the face of the bravery and courage of my mighty little brother,” Mario then says, imprinting his voice with a proud tone that causes Luigi's smile to widen and his cheeks to start burning. “Do you hear me, monsters?” Mario suddenly shouts, turning again to one side and the other, and grabs Luigi's wrist with his right hand to raise his younger sibling’s arm in the air. “Don't even think of coming closer if you don't want to suffer the wrath of the Green Thunder!”

Luigi can't contain the laughter that escapes from the depths of his soul at the nickname his brother has just bestowed upon him, as well as his enthusiasm when boasting about him and the vigor with which he shakes Luigi’s arm. Luigi doubts that any monster is going to be scared by that, but, maybe, just maybe, what he just did is not... bad. Maybe his power has gotten out of his control, but, after all, he hasn't caused any harm.

And, besides, he’s achieved his purpose: to keep those monsters away from his big brother and prevent them from ever having a chance to harm him again.

When his laughter starts to fade, he notices that Mario was laughing too. Now he looks at Luigi with eyes sparkling with affection, and the younger plumber returns a radiant smile that he hopes will convey the same feeling to his brother. Seizing the fact that he’s still holding him by one hand, Mario begins to pull him up and they both stand up at the same time. Mario, however, doesn’t let go.

“Thank you for protecting me, Lu,” he says heartily, giving his fingers a little squeeze.

Luigi can't help blushing and massages the back of his neck with his other hand.

“You always protect me,” he replies, shrugging, “and besides, I don't even know what I did...”

“What do you mean?” Mario sounds both intrigued and confused.

“W-well...” Luigi takes a few seconds to try to find the right words. “I don't know what happened, Mario,” he declares, looking him in the eyes. “I just know that I saw you lying there, and you were bleeding, and...” He sighs, looking away again. “My Thunderhand took control. I didn't even know it was capable of creating a thunderstorm,” he admits, dejected.

Luigi drops his shoulders and massages his arm with his free hand. Mario still holds his other hand, but Luigi senses that it's only a matter of time before his brother lets go and walks away. Surely he doesn't admire him so much anymore. Surely he doesn't see him in the same way anymore. Surely...

“Then,” Mario's voice interrupts the torrent of his thoughts, and a new squeeze on his fingers causes Luigi to turn to him once more. Mario's warm smile disarms him completely. “Maybe we can find a way together that you can do this while maintaining control.”

At first, Luigi isn't sure he fully understands what his twin is referring to. It takes a while for his brain to register what his twin means: that Luigi should learn how to be in control in case he needs, or wants to, create another thunderstorm in the future.

It hadn't occurred to him that there might be a way.

“You’ll see how they will call you Green Thunder then,” Mario adds, amused, and gives him a gentle punch on the shoulder.

Luigi chuckles at his joke, and an idea suddenly comes to his mind.

“Do you think you could do something like that with your Firebrand too?” he asks, curious.

This time it's Mario who stares at him dumbfounded.

“Well... I hadn’t thought about it,” he admits, putting his hand to his chin and tapping his finger pensively.

“Then that’s one more thing we have to research,” Luigi suggests, suddenly filled with a determination that only Mario could have infected him with. “What do you think, big bro?”

“Fair enough, little bro” nods his sibling, giving him another wink.

With no need for words, the two break contact in unison, only to raise their arms and high five. Luigi laughs, feeling not only relieved that Mario still loves him the same way, but pleased that they’re going to further investigate both his electrical power and his twin's igneous magic. He hopes to come up with an appropriate nickname for Mario and his Firebrand in the process.

“I guess we'll have to get out of here first,” Mario adds jokingly. “Let’s-a go!”

“Okie-dokie!”

And, together again, they set off.

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sugars-fluffy-escapes · 3 years ago

Text

Early Morning Laughs

Bucky Barnes x Black!ND!reader

SFW; Complete and utter romantic fluff

Words: 3964

Summary: Bucky returns home after some days away on a mission, and has a cozy, giggly morning with his partner.

Warnings: Bucky barnes being a mean ler (ahsjsjsjnd) lots of fluffy tickles

DISCLAIMER: This is written from my experience as a neurodivergent person. Not every neurodivergent person experiences what the reader experiences or reacts the same way. I just hope to share a sweet fluffy fic that Black ND people can find some comfort in. As always in these fics, blushing is not described with color, but rather physical feeling. Also, this fic was originally written in December of last year aksksjdjf

D/C in this fic stands for "desired color" in reference to hair

The nights Y/N had to fall asleep without Bucky at their side were the hardest nights for them. Though they were also an Avenger, they often needed longer recovery time after missions. The team was always understanding, and never made Y/N feel weird, strange, or ashamed about their neurodivergence. However, because they needed longer to recover from missions, it meant that there were often nights where their boyfriend was out on the field.

As much as Y/N tried to mask just how much being apart from Bucky affected them, they'd often find themself tearfully curling up in bed with one of his shirts, slowly brushing their fingers over the fabric to soothe themself. All of Bucky's shirts were absolute sensory haven for them. Well, except one. One of them had a texture that physically hurt Y/N to touch. That was the shirt Bucky never wore again. He adored it when Y/N stimmed with his shirts and didn't want that to change.

After a long night, Y/N was still sleeping, exhausted from their earlier hours lying awake, struggling to get to bed without being able to snuggle with Bucky. When Bucky arrived back home, he quietly entered his and Y/N's shared room. He anticipated that they'd be sleeping, and his guess was proven correct when he saw Y/N fast asleep, their bonnet slightly pushed up from their head, still clinging to one of his shirts.

A warm smile grew on his face at the sight. Once he'd closed the door, he slowly walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and leaning over. "Rise and shine, dollface," he uttered softly.

Y/N groaned quietly, stretching their body, Bucky's heart melting at the quiet sleepy squeaks that left their mouth, before slowly opening their eyes. The smile that formed on their lips was instantaneous, and their hands began to stim with joy.

"Bucky~!" They sang sleepily, opening their arms and reaching up to him. They giggled when Bucky wrapped his arms around their upper body and helped them to sit up, hugging them lovingly and pressing kisses to their cheek, taking a brief second to straighten their bonnet with his non-metal hand.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Not too well..." Y/N admitted. "I got really sad..."

The super soldier could see his partner's tired, puffy eyes, and he frowned, his brows furrowing sadly as his worries were indeed confirmed. "Oh doll, you were crying when I called last night... weren't you? I had a feeling, but I didn't want to make you more upset by pointing it out..."

"Can you hold me?"

"Of course I can."

Bucky pulled them into his lap, and Y/N buried their face in his chest. They tried to apologize, but Bucky softy interrupted them with reassurance.

"Y/N, you don't need to be sorry for anything. It's normal to be sad when we're apart. Especially in our line of work, I know it's really scary to be apart from each other." He smiled softly upon noticing Y/N slowly brushing their thumb over the ridges in the collar of his tee shirt. Bucky was absolutely smitten. "Lean back for a sec. I've got an idea."

Y/N looked at him curiously, breath hitching when he took off his shirt. They instinctively averted their eyes out of pure shyness, and Bucky chuckled softly.

"You're adorable, doll. C'mon. Shirt off."

"W-What for?"

"It's a surprise. A really good one."

With a breath, Y/N pulled their shirt over their head, only to be immediately engulfed in Bucky's tee shirt, which they pulled down over their head before putting their arms through the sleeves. The growing smile on their face was very hard to miss, and with a giggle, they stimmed happily.

"Youhou were right," Y/N relented with a hum of content. "It smells like you. I like you. Well- I love you. But I also like you."

"I love and like you too," Bucky stated, throwing on a different shirt. "How are you feeling about physical touch right now?"

Bucky was well aware that Y/N could grow rather touch averse at times, so he often waited for them to initiate hugs and snuggles. He wanted to be as attentive to their boundaries and as understanding a boyfriend he could be on the topic of their neurodivergence.

Y/N bit their lip and squirmed a little, averting their eyes as they mustered up the courage to answer. "I... I really need a laugh, Bucky."

Bucky grinned knowingly, before he suddenly began peppering several kisses along their neck and jaw. They immediately squealed, hands rapidly moving toward and apart from each other as they began giggling. "Buhuckyyy!"

"What's got you in such a giggly mood so early in the morning, babydoll? Does it tickle~?"

"Youhouhou ahahahalreheheady knohow thehe ahahahansweheherrr!" Y/N squeaked, shrieking when Bucky gently tackled them back onto the mattress. "BUHUHUCKYY!"

Bucky had known Y/N long enough to notice the way they happy stimmed rather intensely whenever he playfully poked their side or planted little kisses on their neck. The day he blatantly asked Y/N if they liked being tickled, they grew ashamed and tried to hide their face in their hands, but Bucky stopped them. When he noticed their watering eyes, he was very quick to reassure them.

"That's not a bad thing, doll. Hey... You don't need to feel ashamed about this, alright?" He insisted softly, gently brushing their tears away with his thumb.

"But I do..."

"Please look at me? Just for a moment?" Bucky's voice never failed to make Y/N's heart flutter, and they silently looked up into his eyes. They were a bit taken aback by how smitten their boyfriend looked, and couldn't stop the smile from forming on their lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that...?"

"You set the bar for being charming astronomically higher every damn day, you know that?"

"B-Bucky..."

"I'm not gonna lie, the fact that you like being tickled is so damn adorable~"

"Buhucky!"

"Do you not believe me?" Bucky questioned, raising an eyebrow when his lover shrugged. "Am I gonna have to tickle you and prove it?"

Y/N had squeaked as Bucky gently but quickly pulled them into his arms and tickled them silly, all the while affirming how precious he thought it was. By the time he was done, his partner was far too giggly to feel sad or ashamed, and Bucky promised he'd tickle them to pieces whenever they wanted. "I really need a laugh," was in fact a less embarrassing way for Y/N to ask Bucky to tickle them, though it still flustered them to high heaven to just say that.

"Look out, doll!" Bucky exclaimed playfully, gently pushing up the shirt of his that Y/N was wearing until their tummy and lower ribs were exposed to the slightly chilled air. He slowly and teasingly wiggled his fingers as he used his metal arm to keep himself propped up, and Y/N squirmed with a loud squeak.

"B-Buhuhuckyyy! Nohohohooo!

"Oh yes, dollface. You said you needed a laugh." Bucky's hand moved closer and closer, but he paused just as his fingers were above Y/N's belly.

Y/N whined and squirmed from the building anticipation, happy stimming giddily and giggling nervously.

"Gotcha!" Bucky exclaimed suddenly, making Y/N scream and burst into high pitched laughter as he spidered his tickling digits on their belly.

"BUHUHUCKYYYYYYYY!"

"Damn I missed this. I missed you. I gotta make up for three missed days of tickling you silly," Bucky stated, sitting up and tauntingly wiggling his fingers.

"Nohohohoooo!"

"Yes yes yes I do~" the super soldier sang, spidering his fingers up Y/N's sides and chuckling at the giggly screech they emitted. "Did you get more ticklish since I've been gone~?"

"Nohoho teheheheasihihiiiiing!" Y/N whined, squirming and kicking their legs. Bucky grinned, before he slowly and mischievously walked his fingers up his partner's sides. They knew what he was about to do and bit their lip with a squeak, before they screamed in response to him fluttering his fingers at the spot where their underarms and ribcage met. "NohoHOHOAHAHAA! Stohohohohop ihhihit!"

"Aww, does it really tickle that badly, babydoll?" He asked softly, laughing when they nodded. "Feel free to stop me anytime then. That is, if you really want to stop me~"

Whenever Y/N rapidly tapped on his shoulder, arm, or leg, or said a specific word, that was their signal for him to stop. He'd realized that whenever they told him to stop, they never meant it, as was shown by the few times he did stop and they grew sad that he did. After that, the two came up with a different way for Y/N to communicate when they actually wanted him to stop.

He never pinned their hands when he was tickling them to make sure they could tap his shoulder if they were laughing too hard to say the word. He also knew it was the body part they used most often for stimming, and truthfully, seeing them happy stim from the tickling made his heart soar. In response to Bucky's reminder, Y/N only hid their face behind their hand and giggled more. They didn't want him to stop yet.

"Hey. Arms up, doll. No hiding," Bucky insisted, grinning when his partner whined, but complied. "You're too damn cute, you know that? Come on. Which spot am I tickling next, hm?"

"Dohohon't mahake mehehee choohoose ihihihihit!"

"Tell me~" Bucky sang.

"Ohohokay! H-Hihihips..."

"Oh? Have your hips been missing the tickles, dollface?" Bucky teased playfully, before ever so gently kneading his thumbs in circular motions right on Y/N's hipbones.

The snort that left their lips, followed by high pitched shrieks, had Bucky dissolving into sonorous laughter, absolutely smitten by the adorable human giggling beneath him.

"Why are you laughing~?" He teased, the smirk on his face making their heart flutter. "Come on, doll. Talk to me."

"Pihihihis ohohoHOFFF!"

The super soldier moved his hands to their waist and kept them dead still, leaning closer to their face so his nose was touching theirs. Y/N was still giggling nervously, waiting in agonizing anticipation for his next move. His smirk grew upon feeling the warmth radiating from their cheeks. When his eyes met theirs, they had to fight to stay looking at him. Bucky knew he'd flustered them good and he loved it.

"That wasn't very nice," he growled playfully. His gravelly tone of voice shot shivers up Y/N's spine and they squeaked. Bucky's voice immediately lost the low rasp as he began laughing. "IhI dihihidn't doho ahahanythihihing!"

"You knohohow damn well whahat you diiiid!" Y/N whined, hiding their face in their hands before playfully and lightly swatting his shoulder. "Youhouhou always do thiiis!"

"It's not my fault you melt at the sound of my voice~" he muttered, leaning close to their right ear. "Like when I get real close, and you start squirming- lihihike that~ And I know you love when I talk about how much I love hearing you laugh, and how I can't get enough of those adorable squeaks coming out of your mouth right now~"

"S-Stahaaap! IhI'm g-gonna melt..."

Bucky grinned and propped himself up again, brushing his non-metal hand across their cheek. He felt how warm their face had grown from his affections and bit his lip with pure adoration. Y/N simpered, joy evident on their lips, and hummed happily at the cool feeling of Bucky's hand caressing their burning face.

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much."

"IhI love you too, Bucky Barnes."

"Mind if I give those lips a kiss?"

"Not one bit."

Bucky quickly, but delicately, crashed his lips onto theirs, grinning into the kiss when Y/N beckoned him even closer for a hug. "I don't wanna crush you, babydoll."

"You won't," Y/N argued. "I trust you, Buck."

Y/N knew their trust meant everything to Bucky. He'd been terrified of possibly hurting them many times, even before they began dating, but Y/N wasn't afraid. They adored him, and they loved him. On the nights he'd opened up about how broken he still felt about his days as the Winter Soldier, about how he was still terrified of hurting them, his partner gave him gentle reminders that he and the Winter Soldier were not one and the same; they would never be.

"I may not crush you, but you know what I will do~?" His tone grew playful and he propped himself up again, hands moving back to Y/N's sides. They'd already begun giggling, their hands happy stimming in anticipation.

"W-Whahat are you gohonna do?"

"Continue tickling the hell outta you~" Bucky spidered his fingers over the skin on their flanks and made them scream, the sensations shooting around to their back, setting their torso alight with ticklish sparks.

"NohonohoNOHOHOHAHAHAHAAA! THAHAT'S SOHOHO UHUHUNFAHAHAIR!"

"Is it really unfair if you love when I do it~?" His teasing was driving them mad, but he was right. Y/N bent their legs up toward their sides defiantly in a half-hearted attempt to shield them. "You know, if you wanted me to get all the tickle spots on your legs, you could have just said so."

"Hehehey! Buhuhuck! Dohohon't youhouhou d-doho ihihit! Nohohot thehehehehehere!" They squealed, laughter jumping up an octave at the mere sight of Bucky's hands moving around, playfully hovering over different spots just to keep Y/N on edge.

When his hands finally stopped at their ankles, they immediately squeaked out a panicked giggle.

"Uh oh~" Bucky sang, his grip on their ankles tightening the slightest bit.

"Buhucky! Dohohon't eheheven thihink ahahabouhout ihihihit!"

"Too late~" The super soldier turned and looped both of their ankles carefully in the crook of his vibranium arm. "You're in trouble, doll."

"Nohohooo! Dohon't youhouhou dahahahare!"

"Oh I dare."

Y/N's happy stimming was in overdrive, and they screamed the moment they felt Bucky's wiggling fingers playfully attack one of their worst spots. He laughed heartily, glancing back at them with a cheeky grin and switching to slowly dragging one finger up their right foot. The timid Avenger only laughed harder than before, letting out strings of incoherent pleas and hiccupy giggles.

"I'm barely touching you!" Bucky exclaimed in pure amusement. "You are without a doubt, the most ticklish person I have ever known in my life."

"BUHUHUCKYYY!" They whined. "P-PLEHEHEHEAAAASE!"

"Please keep tickling you silly? Anything for you, babydoll~"

"Youhou're suhuhuhuch a jehEHERK! Thihihihis ihihis soHOHO MEHEHEAN!"

"Aw. Too mean for you? Hm?" Bucky cooed, lifting and turning his head to look Y/N, briefly mimicking the adorable pout on his partner's face that only lasted a few seconds before their smile broke out again accompanied by a screech of laughter. "Can't handle the tickling~?"

"Noho teheheasihihiiiing! OHOHOHO MYHYHY GOHOHOHODAHAHAAAA! NOHOHOHOHO!"

He released their ankles after a couple more minutes, giving them a moment to catch their breath and offering them their water from the bedside table.

"Thahanks, Buhuck..."

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked softly, setting the water back once Y/N had taken several sips.

They nodded, relaxing back into the sheets and pillows with a giggly sigh. Bucky saw the giddy look on their eyes, and chuckled. All it took was him slowly lifting his hands into view, and ever so slightly twitching his fingers to make his partner flinch and squeak with giggles. He moved closer, fingers forming claws.

"Have you not had enough tickles yet? Hm?"

Y/N's only response was bashfully hiding their face with a whine, and the moment they peeked through their fingers, Bucky's face was close to theirs. A startled gasp left their throat and they were thrown back into high-pitched cackling the moment Bucky rapidly but very gently squeezed their sides, uncovering their face instantly.

"What'd I tell you about hiding?" He teased, hands switching quickly to their ribs, and then their hips, before he spidered his fingers on every inch of their belly, the shirt of his they were wearing having ridden up from all of their squirming. The gesture had Y/N screeching, back arching and feet lightly slamming against the bed as they kicked their legs.

"IHIHIHI'M SOHOHOHORRYYYYYY!"

"I'm afraid the only way to apologize to a tickle monster is to get tickled into oblivion, dollface."

Bucky slowly walked his fingers down their sides, giving their hips another squeeze and grinning when Y/N bucked beneath him, before trailing down to their thighs. He paused, and Y/N squealed.

"Noho!"

"Yes~ You think I was gonna forget about these adorably ticklish thighs of yours?"

Y/N bit their lip and swore they'd suppress their laughter, but that plan fell apart the very second their boyfriend traced over the skin with the lightest touch. Even that was enough to make them yelp.

"BuHUHUCKY!"

"You can stop me anytime you want, doll." Bucky's reminder and flirtatious wink only served to make their face grow hotter, as it simply emphasized the point that Y/N was wholeheartedly enjoying getting playfully wrecked and hadn't actually signaled for him to stop doing so.

"DohOHON'T wihihihink ahahat mehehee whehehehen youhou sahahay thahaaat!"

Y/N's voice was the highest pitched it could possibly be, and Bucky's heart melted.

He smirked, trailing his fingers to the spot where their inner thigh met their knee, and Y/N knew they were absolutely done for. It was without a doubt their worst spot.

"Buhuhucky Baharnes, dohohon't youhou fuhuhucking dahare!"

"Is this spot really this bad every time?"

"Yehehehes! Youhou jahahahackahahass!"

"You need to watch your language," Bucky growled, the gruff tone of his voice making Y/N squeak loudly. They didn't realize just how intense stomach butterflies could get until they started dating Bucky.

"W-Wahahait! IhIhI'm sohohohorry! I-IhIhI'm sohohorry, PFFAAHHAHAHAAA! NONONO NOHOHOHOHOOO! BUHUHUHUCKYYY!"

Y/N's laughter was full on high pitched screaming, interrupted by deep gasps and snorts, followed by the occasional giggly whimpering. It took less than a minute for them to finally relent and reach up to tap Bucky's arm. He immediately stopped, chuckling when his partner dropped back onto the mattress and clutched their torso, still giggling despite their temporary breathlessness.

"Had enough~?" Bucky teased, grinning at the rapid nod in response. He moved to lay beside them, head propped up on his vibranium arm as he carefully wiped away their tears of mirth and turned their head to look at him. "Are you okay?"

Y/N nodded, hands stimming with the collar on their boyfriend's tee shirt. Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to their temple.

"Thahank you, Buck. IhIhI... really needed that," they whispered, before biting their lip. "Could... could we... um... a l-little later could you... y-you know..."

"Tickle you again?" Bucky questioned knowingly, laughing softly when Y/N bit their lip and nodded. "Of course I can, doll. How are you feeling about touch right now? I know tickles can often fill your physical touch limit."

"I'm more than okay with it, Buck." They answered with a warm smile. "I-I've missed three days of your physical affection."

"Alright. Snuggles sound good?" Bucky asked softly.

"Mhm," Y/N affirmed, turning to move into the super soldier's arms. They rested their head in the crook of his neck, and hummed with content as his arms wrapped around them.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too," Y/N sighed, closing their eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Your hair smells really nice." Bucky muttered. "Well, I'm smelling the bonnet- but I know it's what your hair smells like too. It's nice. It smells nice."

Bucky was adorably awkward when it came to the topic of Y/N's hair.

"Thahanks, Bucky. I did wash day yesterday..."

"Can't believe I missed wash day."

"IhIt's okay. You'll be here next week for it."

"So, is it new style time today?"

"New style time indeed."

"What style do you have in mind?" Bucky asked. He absolutely loved watching Y/N style their hair, having gotten to the point of doing so often enough that Y/N let him help them take out their protective styles.

Y/N found it charming how invested he'd get in learning about their hair, and eventually offered to teach him how to style it. Within a week, he knew finger coils and two strand twists. He was getting the hang of cornrows, slowly. Whenever their hair was all styled or done up for the day, he knew not to touch it, and never asked to. Sometimes, however, Y/N would let him gently feel their styled hair with his fingertips. The first words out of his lips were always the same.

"You look so amazing."

"I'm gonna do (D/C) box braids this time. I've got all the stuff for it already."

"Do you think... Can you please teach me how?" Bucky was damn adorable.

"Yehes, Buck. I'll teach you. No part two to the butterfly loc attempt though, right?"

"No... no part two. Promise." It hadn't been the most disastrous, but Bucky had somehow gotten the one loc Y/N let him try to do sticking straight up. He'd panicked and apologized profusely, but Y/N just began giggling, and undid the loc with ease before fixing it, assuring Bucky it was okay.

"Good try, Buck. Let's get some easier styles mastered first, yeah?"

"Youhou're so cute," Y/N giggled. "I love you."

"I love you too," Bucky said softly. "I'm excited to spend a whole week home with you."

"Wait, what? R-Really?" Y/N piped up.

"I forgot to tell you when I first came in, I'm taking the week off and you're doing it with me." The super soldier heard the gleeful giggle from his partner and grinned.

"Luhucky me," they hummed.

"Lucky you indeed~ Seven whole days of being tickled to tears by your boyfriend~" Bucky teased, briefly wiggling his fingers right at the spot where Y/N's jaw met their ear and grinning at their squeak. "In all seriousness, I'm the lucky one. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, dollface. I don't know how I got so lucky."

"Lucky us that we met each other," Y/N stated, nuzzling his neck. "But if you want to know what got me... it's your kindness, your love for people, your awkward charm, and your heart, that had me catching feelings for you, hard. Everything about you makes me melt, Bucky."

"Y/N..."

"I mean it, Buck."

"I know you do," Bucky affirmed with a grin. "You just make me so damn happy. Every single thing about you makes my heart race. You make me so damn nervous sometimes you know? That's how much I adore you. God- you're so gorgeous and sweet... I'm getting nervous."

Y/N was giggling as they moved their head back so they could see Bucky's face. His cheeks and ears had grown redder. "H-Hi." He greeted, a bit taken aback by his lover being so close to his face.

"Hi."

"Have I ever told you that you've always got this beautiful glow to you? Y-You sure you're not secretly an angel?"

The super soldier's nervous flirting was Y/N's favorite. In the occasional moments where Bucky grew more shy than them, they did everything they could to fluster him further.

"Kihiss me, Buck," they giggled, and Bucky was quick to oblige, cupping their cheek and humming happily. The two of them were content to spend the rest of the morning snuggling close, both feeling safe in each others' arms.

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

Bucky. Barnes. That man makes me swoon. Also, this is my first fic writing for Bucky so I'm kind of nervous 👉🏾👈🏾 I'm just so soft over the idea of Bucky reminding reader in a playful but genuine and caring way that their boundaries will be respected the second they're set. Black ND fic readers, this one was for you ❤️ I wish you joy, all the happy stimming in the world, and absolute sensory haven each and every day!!!

P.S. reading this one back to edit it had me a little more flustered than I remembered it getting me 😳

#ler!bucky #lee!reader #ticklish!reader #nd!reader #Black!reader #bucky x black!reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky x nd!reader #sfw tickle fic #tickle fluff #fluffy tickles #neurodivergent tickle fic #ND tickle fic

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 years ago

Text

Protector & Heartbreaker | Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader (this contains spoilers for vol. 2 )

Summary: You and Eddie have a date on Friday, but Eddie never misses a date.

spoilers under cut

the REAL Summary: When saving the world and killing Vecna goes wrong, Eddie is the one who loses. (sucky summary. this is based around Eddie’s death/ demo-bats. I didn’t want to put the spoiler in the first summary.)

A/N: had this idea and thought a while on it before I decided to write it. My first time writing for Eddie/stranger things so please go easy on me, I tried! I had a lot of emotion writing this as well, I hope I captured it.

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

! Warnings: death, blood, sadness (hella sad) ; i think that’s it?

If someone had told a year ago, that you, your little brother, your boyfriend, ex boyfriend, your ex boyfriend’s ex girlfriend and your ex boyfriends best friend would be fighting Vecna in the upside down together, you’d never have believed them and called them crazy for even suggesting it. But here you all were.

The plan was set in phases. You, Nancy, Robin and Steve would be going after Vecna in the upside down while Eddie and Dustin distracted the demo-bats. Max, Lucus and Erica would be at the Creel house distracting Vecna.

You didn’t agree using Eddie and Dustin as a distraction, wanting to be there to help them, but Steve knew they needed an extra person to take out Vecna and Eddie had agreed with Steve.

You all were about to go your separate ways in the upside down. You tightly wrapped your arms around Eddie’s neck, “Please be careful.”

His long arms enveloped around you, “I will, don’t worry about me and Henderson.” He let go of you, cradling your head in his hands, “You are the one I worry about.” He glances at Steve standing behind you, then back to you.

“I’ll be okay. Just..” You glimpse to your little brother, wondering, when did he get so grown? “Watch out for him please.”

“hey, I got him,” He reassures, caressing your cheek, “I won’t let anything happen to him.” He promises, sealing it with a kiss.

“You listen to everything Eddie tells you, you understand me?” You instruct Dustin, giving him a hug, which wasn’t very welcomed. He sometimes gets embarrassed with affection, but he accepted it anyways. You can feel him tighten his arms around you, but it was brief, “Be safe.”

He nods, “You too.”

You give him a small smile and can’t help but ruffle his hair like you’ve always done, even when he was younger. He’d grown into such a respectable, smart, and responsible kid. You were beaming with pride.

You steal another kiss and a hug from Eddie, “We still have a date this Friday.” Your eyes are stern.

He chuckles at your expression, “When have I ever missed a date?” He takes this moment to take in every feature on your face. Your beauty never seized to amaze him. The last year with you had been his best one yet. At the beginning of the school year, he told himself this would be his year. He’d finally graduate, and he’d finally tell you how he truly felt.

What he didn’t expect was the most stunning girl in Hawkins to love him, Eddie the freak Munson, back.

You give Eddie another swift kiss on the lips before stepping away from the two most important boys in your life, heading toward Steve, Nancy and Robin.

“Harrington.” Eddie calls out to Steve, making him turn around to look at Eddie, “Keep her safe.”

Steve knew exactly who Eddie was talking about. Steve’s eyes glance to you. You’re already walking ahead with the girls. Eddie knew Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to you and that’s the only reason he’d let you go with them. Steve wouldn’t let you come into any harm’s way, ready to protect you with his life, because he was still in love with you.

The plan had somewhat worked. Except for the fact there was a hitch in the plan, where you, Steve, Nancy and Robin were attacked by the vines and held against the walls, gasping for breath.

But soon the vines released you and the plan continued; kill vecna. You didn’t succeed, he’d disappeared but you all had badly wounded him.

As you all made your way back to Eddie and Dustin, you heard Dustin’s cries before you saw him. “Dustin.” You breathed out, beginning to run toward the sound, the rest following. It was his heartbreaking cries, you knew something bad had happened.

The scene you stumbled upon wasn’t how this was supposed to end. Dustin was sobbing over Eddie’s bloody and mutilated body; dead demo-bats surrounding both. “Eddie!” You dropped to your knees next to them, “What happened?!” You direct the question to Dustin as you take a hold of Eddie’s upper body, cradling him in your arms, “Eddie, Eddie wake up.”

“H-He tried… he tried..” But dustin couldn’t form the words, continuing to sob. His best friend, the person he looked up to the most and who he called his big brother was gone.

“Eddie baby, it’s okay, I’m here..” Your hand cupped his bloody cheek. You were a tearful mess. Tears rolled steadily down your cheeks, snot bubbling around your nose. You were in denial. This wasn’t happening, Eddie would open his eyes and he’d be okay. He’d be alive.

“Oh god,” you cried, cradling him flush against your chest, “Eddie, please don’t leave me.” You begged to the superior being; to any god who would listen.

“help him, you have to help him!” The three of them were still standing around you and they didn’t move. “don’t just stand there, do something! Steve,” Your eyes met his, sadness glossed over his, knowing there was nothing he could do for you, for Eddie.

“y/n.. he’s gone.” He bent down next to you, his hand on your back for comfort.

“No!” You deny, shrugging his hand off you. “he’s going to be okay,” You try to wipe the blood off Eddie’s cheek. “We just have to get him to a hospital.”

Dustin is sobbing into Nancy’s arms now feeling responsible for Eddie’s death and your broken heart. He’d begged Eddie to come through with him, don’t be a hero, Eddie! But Eddie couldn’t run, not anymore. He had to protect Dustin, just as he’d promised you.

You weren’t going to let him go, Steve knew that. Before he could react, the ground beneath shook. Something was terribly wrong.

“Steve, we need to get out of here,” Nancy instructs.

Another powerful shake brought them to their knees. “Steve!” Robin yells.

“y/n, we need to get out of here.” His arms hook under yours, trying to pull you to your feet and away from Eddie. He knew he’d have to do this. He was the only one strong enough to do it.

“No!” You screamed, thrashing around his his grip, “I can’t leave him!” Steve loses his grip as another power shake is felt. You drop back to Eddie’s body, holding him. “Eddie I love you, I love you,” You sob, “wake up for me baby, wake up!” You felt anger rising, why wasn’t he waking up!

“We have to!” He says sternly, the ground shaking angrily underneath his feet. He uses this partially to his advantage, seizing you under the arms once more and giving a strong tug. He uses all of his strength to carry you and your broken heart to the gate at Eddie’s trailer.

You wail as Steve drags you away from Eddie’s lifeless body. His body only getting smaller and smaller as you near the trailer. Your heart breaking with every step. He was gone and you weren’t there to say goodbye. You weren’t there to tell him how much he meant to you, how much you loved him. You weren’t there to help. Maybe if you were, you could have saved him.

I may or may not have cried while writing this... I hope I captured the emotion. I sometimes struggle with that. I have a whole vision in my head, but struggle with putting it to paper.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! x Thanks for reading xx

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader insert #eddie munson x reader fic #eddie munson x #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

Note

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

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

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years ago

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 14

A/N: hello i return!! just one more chapter after this, it's so wild to think that this fic is almost over!

Warnings: kissing, self-worth issues, talk of near death situations and past injury

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Kissing Scott felt like Jimmy was cradling sunlight in his hands. Something that should have been impossible, and yet all the same it was happening. And now that Scott had Jimmy, he seemed determined not to let him go. Not that Jimmy was exactly complaining about Scott’s new mission to kiss him breathless- but considering not too long ago Scott was trying to make him breathless in an entirely different sense, and that the others didn’t even know what all went down… they should probably stop. So with great regret, Jimmy tried to pull away from Scott- key word there being tried.

“Scott, c’mon, let go of me,” Jimmy chuckled, dodging yet another kiss. Scott settled for pressing his lips to Jimmy’s cheek before tucking his head under Jimmy’s chin. His wings shifted to curl around the both of them, and as nice as it felt, they really needed to get up from the floor so that Jimmy could let his friends know what happened.

“Mm… no,” Scott hummed with a giggle.

“We should probably tell the others what happened- they all think you’re still fighting off the corruption, or are possessed,” Jimmy pointed out.

“I don’t see why we can’t just tell them later,” Scott pouted. Jimmy let out a fond, incredulous sigh.

“You also haven’t properly eaten anything in a few days, you’ve been living off of splash health potions for the most part,” Jimmy said sternly.

“Well, I know something I’m hungry for,” Scott teased, and Jimmy didn’t even need to see his face to know that he was smirking. Jimmy sighed again.

“And I thought you were incorrigible when we hated each other,” he commented with a chuckle. Scott pulled away enough to look at Jimmy with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You’re stuck with me now, better get used to it, sweetheart,” he murmured. Jimmy could feel his face warm up considerably at the petname, and Scott grinned at the sight. Well, two could play that game.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, sunshine,” Jimmy replied with a grin. Scott’s eyes went wide, and he flushed pink all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Oh you can flirt back now. Right,” Scott managed to get out, voice coming out a bit strained. Jimmy just grinned wider.

“So what do you say, sunshine? How about we let everyone know that neither of us are dead and that you’re also not possessed?” Jimmy offered. Scott made a flustered sound at being called “sunshine” again, but collected himself enough to let out a sigh of defeat.

“Fine,” he grumbled, before getting up off of Jimmy. Jimmy stood up as well- just in time to catch Scott as he suddenly tilted to one side. Scott was leaning against Jimmy heavily, and Jimmy looped an arm around his waist as he tried to keep Scott upright.

“Scott?!” Jimmy gasped, unable to keep the panic from his tone.

“M’okay- think that lack of actual food thing is catching up to me. Just stood up too fast and got dizzy, that’s all,” Scott reassured him, standing up a bit more but still holding on to Jimmy, just to be sure.

“Then we’d really better tell the others so that we can work on getting your strength back,” Jimmy said with a relieved smile. He led Scott over to the lever for the secret door, and the moment he flicked it, a group of people came tumbling in. Nearly all of them fell to the floor in a heap, except for Pearl and Pixl, who sheepishly smiled at Jimmy and Scott. Gem was the first to pick herself up from the floor, dusting off her robes and letting out a nervous laugh.

“We uh. We might have been listening for a little bit there! We just didn’t want to interrupt,” Gem explained sheepishly. The others picked themselves off from the floor as she spoke, and Shelby was the last to get up from the floor, holding a black shulker box to her chest.

“Where’d the corruption go, I’ve got a box for it!” Shelby chirped, peering around Jimmy and Scott. The two of them blinked in surprise, and Scott looked to his arm. The corruption was long gone, all that was left was a scar from the initial cut. Jimmy looked around the room, and soon spotted what was left of the corruption lying on the floor near where he and Scott had fought. It looked like a mass of red vines that twitched every so often, and Jimmy’s stomach turned with nausea at the sight. Scott seemed to notice Jimmy’s sudden distress, and followed his gaze, only for Scott himself to turn several shades paler than he already was as he clung to Jimmy a bit tighter. Shelby noticed where the two of them were looking, and quickly scrambled over to carefully gather up the corruption and put it in the shulker box.

“Hey, easy, just look at me- you’re okay,” Jimmy soothed, reaching out to gently turn Scott’s head towards him. Scott’s look seemed far away even as he was looking into Jimmy’s eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before blinking them open with a shaky sigh, gaze looking much more focused than before as he leaned his forehead against Jimmy’s.

“I think it’s probably good I’ve only been living off of health potions, pretty sure I would have just lost whatever I would have eaten right then,” Scott got out with a short laugh.

“So… how did you get the corruption out anyway?” Pixl asked after pointedly clearing his throat. Jimmy and Scott jumped slightly, pulling away from each other (but not far enough for Scott to be without standing support) with a pair of sheepish smiles.

“Well I uh. We were fighting, and I might’ve kissed Scott to throw him off, but it ended up being the push to snap him out of it and fight against the corruption,” Jimmy explained with a blush. Scott looked at Jimmy with a perplexed expression.

“Jimmy… I didn’t do anything against the corruption. It- before I woke up with you uh… holding me, the last thing I remembered was losing to another version of myself in some sort of red dreamscape. Your kiss saved me, not anything I did,” Scott explained. A series of adoring coos and gasps sounded from the group, and Jimmy felt his face burn.

“True love was the key this whole time?” Shelby pondered, looking down at the shulker box she held with the now contained corruption.

“Well- I- surely it’s gotta be more than that,” Jimmy managed to get out, feeling incredibly flustered.

“So a mix of love and wills, then. It sounded like Scott maybe could have beaten it on his own, he just needed the extra help!” Shelby replied with a shrug. Scott frowned.

“I don’t know, honestly. The other me- it- he?- was mostly toying with me, I think. Said something about how ‘he’ would be pleased to know that I was specifically under the corruption’s control,” Scott explained shakily.

“He?” Gem asked, brows furrowed in concern.

“The other me referred to some other person that he was sent by, maybe? Then when I asked about who the ‘he’ was, the other me said something about how I didn’t ‘remember’ and how that made me easy to control,” Scott continued.

“The corruption is sentient?!” Shelby gasped, holding the shulker box away from herself.

“And apparently sent by someone else? And seemed to already know you somehow?” Gem pondered. Scott shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know. All I know is that it’s gone now, and I’m extremely glad for that,” Scott said, voice tight with nerves as the barrage of questions began to overwhelm him.

“And we’re glad you’re okay too!” Katherine piped up, stepping forward with a smile, clearly picking up on Scott’s discomfort. Scott blinked in surprise at her words.

“You.. are?” he asked in disbelief. Katherine just looked as surprised, if not more, than Scott did. The others had a mixture of concern and confusion on their faces as well, and Scott shifted uncomfortably at the attention.

“Why would I not be?” Katherine asked. Scott swallowed nervously.

“I- I knew about Fwhip’s plan for the ball, and didn’t say anything. Your- your castle was destroyed because I was too afraid to do anything about it,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid speaking any louder would awaken the wrath of those around him. An almost wounded expression came across Katherine’s face.

“Scott, even if I was still mad at you when we found you lying in front of Gem’s home, I wouldn’t have wanted you to die. Besides, between Fwhip’s gloating monologue and what we knew from what Pearl and Gem had told us, we know that you weren’t exactly a willing participant in Fwhip’s plan,” Katherine said softly, taking a slow step closer to Scott. His wings shifted anxiously, and Jimmy gently squeezed Scott’s arm to comfort him.

“I- you’re not mad?” he asked, voice still hushed and timid. Katherine smiled gently.

“No, I’m not. If castles can be rebuilt, so can friendships,” Katherine replied softly, holding out her arms. Scott barely hesitated at the invitation, letting go of Jimmy to instead hug Katherine tightly. Any remaining tension Scott held seemed to melt away as Katherine hugged him back. He hesitantly drew back after a few moments, a contemplative expression on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Jimmy asked. He reached out towards him, intending to put a comforting hand on his shoulder- but was pleasantly surprised by Scott taking his hand and tugging him closer so that they could stand side-by-side, fingers intertwined. Jimmy felt his face flush, and Scott smirked at him for a brief moment before schooling his expression into something more serious.

“So now that the uh- the corruption is dealt with. For now. Hopefully. Anyway what I’m trying to say is- what do we do about Fwhip and Sausage?” Scott asked. The others exchanged glances, seemingly having an entire conversation without words that Jimmy was hopelessly unable to decipher. Scott didn’t look like he knew what was going on either, and seemed a little apprehensive at that fact.

“We’ll protect you,” Katherine said firmly. The rest of the group nodded in agreement. Jimmy found himself nodding too- and to his shock, Scott seemed a little flustered.

“I- that’s a nice gesture, but not really what I meant- I was talking about them in a more general sense, not just if they try to come after me specifically. Again,” Scott explained with a sheepish laugh.

“Well I can definitely handle whatever they throw at us. Fwhip ran like a coward after I chased him away a few days ago,” Pearl said with a confident grin.

“Sausage won’t be an issue either, not with my magic to defend us!” Gem added.

“If I’m not gonna take out my rage on Scott for playing with Jimmy’s heart, then I guess I can settle for Fwhip or Sausage,” Lizzie said with a shrug. Scott paled slightly, and Jimmy frowned at Lizzie with a disapproving glare.

“Lizzie, you don’t need to be mad at him anymore, we made up!” Jimmy protested, raising their joined hands as proof.

“Think a little more than that happened,” Pixl commented dryly. Joel let out a laugh that he was quick to stifle, pushing at Pixl with one hand while covering his mouth with the other. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the two of them before looking at Jimmy again.

“Well I’m not mad because of that, but how do I know he’s good enough for you?” Lizzie said, glaring at Scott in a way that Jimmy could tell was playful, but Scott didn’t seem to realize that, wings stiffening before relaxing as he took a deep breath.

“I know I have a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not gonna be as easy as me nearly dying on you all to gain your trust again. But I’m willing to make an effort-” Scott paused, looking at Jimmy the gentlest he ever had, the ice in his eyes melting for Jimmy and for Jimmy alone- “because he’s worth it.”

“Scott…” Jimmy trailed off, unsure of what to say after all of that. Scott just smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Lizzie just blinked at them, dumbfounded for a moment.

“I was mostly just messing with you, but… I’m glad to know that you’re serious about him,” Lizzie said with a smile. Scott let out a breath of relief, smiling back before his expression settled into something more resolute.

“Speaking of serious, we should probably discuss more concrete defense plans in case of any other sort of attack from Fwhip and Sausage,” Scott said. Various sounds and mutters of agreement filled the room, and they began discussing defensive strategies- things like making moats, building walls, and sharpening their fighting skills. Jimmy didn’t contribute much to the conversation, not that he exactly had much to offer- but even if he did, he was too busy listening to Scott with rapt attention, a smitten expression on his face all the while.

Taglists below! Let me know if you wanna be added/removed to/from either!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @beepa99 @devilwoodkitty18 @logosbottm @riobug

#empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #geminitay #shubble #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #pearlescentmoon #pixlriffs #katherine elizabeth #flower husbands #seablings #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years ago

Text

Get Together

This fic was also inspired by this prompt from @mingcheng-prompts

Jiang Cheng stares at the letter in his hands.

“You can’t be serious,” he says, but when he raises his eyes at Nie Mingjue he seems deadly serious.

“Of course I am,” Nie Mingjue replies and pushes a scroll towards him. “My courtship gift.”

Jiang Cheng blinks but doesn’t move.

He knows he can’t say yes—could never, not with everything that happened—but he wants to.

Jiang Cheng learned to appreciate Nie Mingjue over the course of the last few gruesome weeks, learned to rely on him and trust him to have his back in battle—and yes, maybe even fell in love with him—so of course he wants to say yes.

But he can’t.

“I have nothing,” he tells Nie Mingjue and doesn’t make a move for the scroll. “My Sect burned. My parents died. My people are scattered.”

He’s not even sure he still has Wei Wuxian.

“There is nothing I can give you.”

“Good thing then, that I’m here for you and not your Sect or for what you can give me,” Nie Mingjue easily replies and doesn’t seem put off in the least.

“No,” Jiang Cheng tells him, though the word barely makes it out of his mouth.

Nie Mingjue observes him in silence for a few minutes, before he sags with a sigh.

“I respect your wish,” he says but he still pushes the scroll closer to Jiang Cheng. “You should still take this. Consider it a gift from one Sect Leader to another, if you must.”

“I shouldn’t take this,” Jiang Cheng replies as he gets up.

If he accepts this, and finds something thoughtful, something useful, something he would like, then his resolve will crumble.

And he can’t afford that. They are still at war. His Sect is still barely more than ground into dust.

“Nie-zongzhu,” he bows low, before he walks out of the tent, away from Nie Mingjue, without looking back.

Jiang Cheng wonders not for the first time when fate will stop taking things away from him.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng has to admit that he thought things would change between him and Nie Mingjue with the rejected courtship, but they don’t.

Nie Mingjue treats him the same as before, except that now Jiang Cheng flushes whenever Nie Mingjue comes close or smiles at him or is simply nice to him.

Jiang Cheng is flushing a lot, even though the war is still raging.

He really wishes he could have said yes to Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Fate does not stop taking things from Jiang Cheng. First his brother-in-law, then his sister and to top it off his brother as well.

The only thing left is Jin Ling.

And—inexplicably—Nie Mingjue.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng asks, a shade of desperation to his voice, because Jin Ling won’t stop crying and Jiang Cheng is inevitably going to fuck him up, just like he fucks up everything else.

“I’m here with an offer of courtship,” Nie Mingjue says and puts another letter and the same scroll on the table.

Jiang Cheng wonders if Nie Mingjue lost his mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses, allowing the anger to take over instead of giving in to the want and hurt.

“Nothing. I simply have made up my mind about what I want. And what I want is you.”

He sounds completely serious as he says it, too, and Jiang Cheng wonders if Nie Mingjue lost his sanity on the battlefield.

“Look around you, Nie-zongzhu,” he snaps out, aware that Jin Ling flinches at his tone and Nie Mingjue at the title.

Jiang Cheng tries to calm Jin Ling down and tries to ignore Nie Mingjue and his reaction as best as he can.

If he calls him anything but Nie-zongzhu then he’ll crumble and give in. And he can’t do that.

“I have nothing left in my life,” Jiang Cheng belatedly finishes and Nie Mingjue frowns.

“That’s not true. You have your nephew and your Sect. That is not nothing. And you have me, too, if you accept the courtship or not.”

“Why are you so—” Jiang Cheng wants to say ‘good’ but the word chokes him up.

Nie Mingjue seems to understand it anyway.

“Because you deserve it.”

“I don’t,” Jiang Cheng says over Jin Ling’s head, the boy still crying and Jiang Cheng woefully unprepared to deal with him.

“I think you do,” Nie Mingjue softly says and then stands up to correct Jiang Cheng’s grasp on Jin Ling.

It doesn’t immediately calm him down, but Jiang Cheng feels more secure holding Jin Ling like that and the small kindness is enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“I can’t,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and hides his face in Jin Ling’s baby hair. “I can’t.”

There’s a brief silence where Jiang Cheng thinks that Nie Mingjue will simply storm out on him, but then he feels lips pressed against the crown of his head.

“I’ll be here when you can,” Nie Mingjue promises him right before he leaves.

Jiang Cheng can’t bear to watch him go, and it’s only much, much later that he realizes that while Nie Mingjue took the letter with the official courtship, he left the scroll behind.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t touch it.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is shaking as he steps off Sandu and if he’s not careful he’s going to crush the scroll in his hand.

Maybe it would be better anyway.

“Where is Nie Mingjue?” he demands to know from the first disciple that has the guts to step close and to their credit, he is immediately led to a study room.

“What the fuck is this?” he hisses as he throws the scroll at Nie Mingjue. “What the hell are you up to?”

It seems like he caught Nie Mingjue off guard because the scroll hits him square in the chest but when he lowers his gaze at it, understanding crosses his face.

“It’s a gift,” Nie Mingjue slowly says and picks the scroll out of his robes to put it on the table.

“A gift,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Preparing me for the fact that you’re planning to invade us?”

It’s—just the thought makes Jiang Cheng sick, because he barely had time to build Lotus Pier back up again. He only managed the most necessary buildings so far.

Not to mention the fact that he trusted Nie Mingjue, that he thought he was in love with him.

“It’s nothing like that,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng has to give it to him, he stays remarkably calm.

“Then explain what it is!” Jiang Cheng demands and Nie Mingjue sighs.

“I mean, I guess it was intended that way, once, when we first started? But it’s not anymore. We keep track of the layout of all the Sects. I know you all thought us stupid but Qinghe Nie always expected a war ever since Wen Ruohan first came into power centuries ago. We made it a habit to sketch out every Sect’s layout so that in the case of a war we could help them rebuild. None of you are as sturdy as we are.”

It’s a sensible explanation and it makes sense, Jiang Cheng guesses, but the hurt about the perceived threat from Nie Mingjue of all people still sits deep.

“Why give it to me?”

Nie Mingjue stares at him as if he’s stupid, and Jiang Cheng thinks that’s probably fair.

“It was supposed to be a courtship gift; my gift to help you rebuild Lotus Pier like it used to be if you wished it so. You rejected me, twice, and I thought it cruel to keep this from you despite that.”

Jiang Cheng can’t keep Nie Mingjue’s eyes any longer and so he stares down at the scroll again.

He had looked at it, of course, and he had studied it very carefully; there were paths and buildings on that plan that even he didn’t remember.

“Show me the other ones,” Jiang Cheng says, because he needs the proof that this was not simply to attack him again, now that Yunmeng Jiang is weakened beyond belief.

Nie Mingjue simply nods and leads Jiang Cheng to a huge library. It seems like Nie Mingjue knows his way around here very well, because there’s no hesitation as he makes his way over to a shelf and gets three more scrolls out.

“We even have one of the Wen Sect, in case someone more sensible ever took over once Wen Ruohan inevitably destroyed everything,” he says as he hands the scrolls to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng opens all three of them, just to be sure, but they are what Nie Mingjue promised.

“You wanted to help us rebuild,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Qinghe Nie always wanted to help in the case of war,” he agrees and before Jiang Cheng can snap at him that he is deliberately misunderstanding him, he goes on. “But yes. I specifically wanted to help you rebuild.”

“Why?”

“It was supposed to be a courtship gift, remember?” Nie Mingjue asks with a sad smile and takes the scrolls back from Jiang Cheng.

“But why?” Jiang Cheng asks again, because that’s the part he doesn’t get.

Everyone left him alone; his family is dead, Lanling Jin is just waiting for him to die or move a toe out of line, Gusu Lan is too busy rebuilding themselves and for all that Nie Mingjue tried to court him—twice—even Qinghe Nie didn’t so much as offer help.

Well, Jiang Cheng guesses he has to rethink that part, because clearly Nie Mingjue did want to help.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re fierce and beautiful and strong. You’re a natural leader, you’re a good Sect Leader, a good uncle. Because I admire you and I’m in love with you,” Nie Mingjue easily says as if it means nothing to him to say all of that out loud, about Jiang Cheng of all people.

It means the world to Jiang Cheng.

“Ask me again,” he whispers, begs almost, because he’s tired of keeping himself from this.

He’s tired of rebuilding and of raising Jin Ling and having to do it all alone and if Nie Mingjue wants this, still, after Jiang Cheng was already stupid twice, then he’ll take it.

He will allow himself at least this happiness.

“Jiang Wanyin, will you let me court you?” Nie Mingjue asks without hesitation and just the thought that Nie Mingjue waited even though Jiang Cheng rejected him twice, that he still wants him, brings tears to Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“Yes, please,” he breathes out and Nie Mingjue doesn’t waste any time before he pulls him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he mutters into Jiang Cheng’s hair as if he’s the blessed one here, when really, Jiang Cheng can’t believe that he should get this lucky.

“I’m sorry I was stupid,” Jiang Cheng says into Nie Mingjue’s shoulder.

“You weren’t. There was a lot going on, and I understand,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng slings his arms around his middle.

“I like you, too,” Jiang Cheng belatedly says, and even though he’s not yet ready to tell Nie Mingjue that he’s in love with him, too, it doesn’t seem to matter to Nie Mingjue.

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and pushes Jiang Cheng away from him, just far enough to duck down and press a light kiss to his lips.

“We’re going to take this slow, okay? Rebuilding first.”

Jiang Cheng has difficulties swallowing around the lump in his throat, so he simply nods, grateful that Nie Mingjue seems to understand what he so desperately needs.

His Sect back to a point where he doesn’t have to fear for their simple survival every night, and a reassuring, steady presence at his side.

“Thank you,” he says again with feeling and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“Always,” he promises.

And for once in Jiang Cheng’s life, someone keeps that promise.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #mdzsbingo #the untamed #mdzs #getting together #hurt/comfort #courting #misunderstanding #first kiss

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dancingaliensfics · 4 years ago

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♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

#zemo x reader #helmut x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #tfatws

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imaginesmai · 4 years ago

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Arvin Russell - The preacher’s sins (2/2)

Here is the second part of this fic! Hope you enjoy it.

Plot: The preacher’s manipulation is finally kicking in, but Arvin isn’t letting go so easily.

Warnings: It’s about TDATT, so you can guess, again. Violence, manipulation, hurt reader.

Lenora died two days after your argument with Arvin, you and him were drifting apart and Knockemstiff was entering in the coldest Autumn yet to meet. The villagers were on edge every second of the day, there was more violence and the people’s faith was starting to become dangerous. Just a few days ago, a pregnant woman and her boyfriend had walked into the café, and had been kicked out by angry clients who scream obscenities for not being married.

The preacher’s words were starting to make roots into the town, it seemed, and you were no exception; at least, you didn’t think you were. Since that talk with the preacher, he had opened your eyes about your sins, and you could say happily that you were getting better at reading. Every two days, you would go the church and he would be waiting outside, with his car and his bible. He would read to you, helping you understand what you couldn’t and giving you a kind smile. And if you got a word wrong, well, he knew how to fix it.

“And she… uh, she… “ you squinted to see what the word was, but you couldn’t read. Your heart started to beat loudly in your ears under the watchful eyes of the preacher. “She was con… con…”

The preacher put a hand on your shoulder, and your eyes got misty. You knew it was well deserved, because who didn’t know how to read? But it still brought tears to your eyes when it happened. You searched into your brain for something to say, but since Lenora’s death no one was teaching you. Arvin, your sweet boy, was the only reason why you sometimes doubted what the preacher was doing was right. And in order not to lie to his face, you barely saw him anymore.

“Come on, Y/N. You know what to do” the preacher said, unfastening his belt. In a moment of panic, you shifted away from him. “It’s for you own good. You think someone will love some brainless girl like you?”

“Please, preacher” you whined as he got up, belt in hand. “Please, not today. They – they haven’t healed, a-and it hurts. Please, I don’t –“

“You think your suffering is close to what he suffered? You whiny bitch, take out your clothes before I make you”

As quickly as you could, you got naked in front of the preacher, except from your underwear. The first time you did it, just before meeting Arvin in the graveyard, you had cried and begged. Then the preacher had explained you that it was the only way to cure your sins, to redeem yourself for lying to him in the first place. He had told you not to talk to Arvin about it – and you didn’t, because he promised you to teach you to read and be a good girl for him.

You didn’t know if it was because of what happened to Lenora, because of the hurt look on Arvin’s face when you told him you couldn’t meet that weekend, or because you had noticed that lately the preacher’s eyes were shiner than usual when you took off your clothes. But you were starting to doubt if what he considered redemption was really it.

“It’s for you own good” the preacher said, as the belt fell for the first time near your right shoulder. He didn’t bother to avoid the previous days lashes – he liked to see how longer could you keep the tears away. “You want to clean yourself?”

“Please, don’t –“

“I asked you a question!”

The belt fell so many times that you lost count. You thought about how all of this could end – he had told you, you could wipe your sins with the belt or with him. And every time you chose the belt, the preacher’s face got angrier. He wasn’t the nice, quiet man that presented himself in the church a few months ago, with a kind smile. You had really thought he was a nice man, but as the days passed and you were submitted to your own hell, your impression of him was changing.

You were afraid, something you hadn’t been at the beginning. It was easy to ignore what he was doing, because you took it as a punishment for not learning how to read. It was a motivation, and you were eager for each meeting, until one day you could show them that you could read. Maybe write a letter to Arvin, and watch how his warm smile lifted finally your mood. But the preacher had less patience each day, and you were making more mistakes – because he didn’t want you to learn, he just wanted you to choose the other option. Wanted you to leave Arvin and lay with him, and even you, who couldn’t read, wouldn’t do that.

You accepted the hits in silence, waiting for it to be over so he could drive you back to the church. And from then, pretending nothing was wrong.

The familiar truck from the Russell was parked outside your house the next day, when you finished your shift at the café. You almost didn’t notice it, because your father used to have one pretty similar. It wasn’t until you parked your car in front of your fence that you saw the familiar boy staring at you from the side of the truck.

Arvin was smoking, as always, and had a brow raised. He watched without saying anything as you got out of your car, getting ride of the ashes of the smoke. You took your time in grabbing your bag and closing your car – if your memory was right, it had been five days since you last saw Arvin, and it had just been a brief talking in the washing rooms. You had noticed he had something to say, but even if just two months ago you wouldn’t have had any problem talking about anything, now he couldn’t find away.

He waited for you, not saying a word. You chose not to say anything about the bruise and swelling around his left eye, because if you talked, you were sure you would just burst crying. That day the preacher had been busy with a family, so he had given you the day free – which was why you were coming home so soon, and why Arvin and you were the only ones there.

As you left he keys on the kitchen table and your bag on the chair, Arvin closed the door behind him. You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was staring.

“I was ‘ere yesterday” he announced, his voice echoing the empty space. “Waited for you to come back, but your daddy told me you’re coming home later now”

“Longer shifts, you know” you took out the pan, ready to make dinner and avoid the conversation. “Leroy is having – “

“I came from the café, and it was closed” Arvin cut you off. “Is everythin’….?”

Arvin didn’t finish his question, and you felt bad because he wasn’t demanding an explanation – he was just worrying. You kept moving things around for dinner as Arvin understood you weren’t going to talk. There was a suspicious wet feeling on your eyes, and a lump on your throat. The previous day the preacher had been particularly rough, not just with his belt, but with his words. And when you thought about Arvin, about how good he was, you wondered if they were true. If you didn’t deserve him.

Instead of giving up, Arvin walked around the kitchen aisle. Unknown to you, it hadn’t been the first day he had come to look for you. Since Lenora’s death he had kept his distance, too busy in his own grief to notice that you were no longer asking him to pick you up. He blamed himself, for the argument in the graveyard two days before her death and for not being there. So busy, that he didn’t know where his girl was spending her nights away.

He didn’t want you to think he was accusing you, because he would trust you with his eyes closed. But after asking around for a while, he discovered you were spending more and more time with the preacher, and that you didn’t smile as brighter as before. Now that he was finally alone with you, he couldn’t let it go.

“Y/N” he called you, putting a hand over yours and stopping the torture over the poor tomato. “I just wan’ to talk with you. I know she was your friend too, and I’m sorry I wasn’ here before”

“It’s fine, Arvin” you said. You didn’t look at him, nor shook his hand off. With the knife midway of cutting the tomato, you didn’t move. “Sorry for not… being there too”

“No, that’s my fault, darlin’” Arvin finally rounded your body and leant his head against your shoulder. “Can I treat you dinner? I’ve savin’ up for a bit”

“I can’t, I have to – “

You interrupted yourself with a pained whine and scrambled away from Arvin, almost having forgotten how bad your back hurt. The look of pure terror on his face decomposed you whole. In just two seconds, the knife had fallen to the ground and the tomato had rolled away, and Arvin looked like he had touched ice. He was pale, with his arms still open in a mid-hug and staring at you with wide eyes.

The house was silent for a long minute, while tears welled up in your eyes. Arvin looked lost, as if he could just vanish in thin air, but he collected himself well enough to help you up and sit you on the kitchen’s stool, that creaked under your weight.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not moving his hand from your shoulder. He knelt in front of you and made you meet his eyes. “You can tell me anythin’, pretty girl”

“It hurts” you cried to him, finally saying out loud. “It hurts when I sit, or when I drive. And – and when I sleep too. I just don’t want it to hurt anymore”

“What hurts?”

“The belt”

Somehow, Arvin knew what you were talking about, and lifted your shirt with such soft and caring hands that you heart broke a little more. He asked permission with his eyes before doing anything, and reassured you when you whined in pain. Eventually, the brown blouse you had been wearing for your shift at the café came out, Arvin lifting your arms and passing it through your head.

He left it on the table, and turned you around so that he could look properly at it. The poor wrapped bandages you managed to apply by yourself came out easily as you cried into your hands. One by one, they came apart under Arvin’s skilled fingers, who made a pile of them on the floor. Even if you didn’t see his face, you had a vague idea what it looked like. In that moment, you understood that what the preacher was doing wasn’t right – because you couldn’t talk about it to Arvin without feeling embarrassment and self-pity crawl through your throat.

“I’m so stupid, Arvin” you broke the silence, as Arvin feather touch ran down your back. “I can’t – I can’t get most of the words… They are, a-all the same. And… and…”

“Who?”

You turned around to look at Arvin, and didn’t see any of the reject you had expected from what the preacher had told you. There wasn’t even an inch of anger, at least you thought it wasn’t directed at you. When he met your eyes, there was just worry and love for you, and such a sadness and pain that probably matched yours.

Arvin cupped your face delicately and pressed his lips in the corner of your mouth, catching a falling tear. He kissed your face as many times as the belt had fell on you the previous day, until his own tears were staining your cheeks. Between kisses, Arvin learned about you learning to read with the preacher, about your thought of not being worthy of him and a bunch of other words that made him hold you tighter.

Your bare chest ended up colliding with Arvin’s, and his arms wrapped around your back without touching any bruise. He held your head close as he shook with emotions, and shushed any attempt of apology from you.

“I’ll fix it” Arvin promised you, once the tears were over and you were just holding each other. “I’ll fix it”

“But it was my fault, Arv, he –“

“He fuckin’ beat you. Nothin’ you could have done deserved it” he caressed your hair, and you felt at ease for a long time in a long time. “I swear I’m gonna make ‘im regret every second, a’right?”

“He said I was no good for you” you confessed, hugging him tighter. “I don’t – I have never gone to school and you – you deserve…”

“Hey” he brought your face out and gave you a soft smile. “You’re coming home with me now, and I’m gonna make you forget bout him”

Arvin pressed his lips against you, not minding the awkward position you were in. The kiss was slow and lovely, and you hadn’t notice how much you had missed him until that moment. He kissed you again and again, making sure you weren’t going to disappear from his grasp, and repeating how much he loved you every time his lips weren’t on you. You two held each other for a little longer, until the sun disappeared completely from the sky and the time when your parents came home was close.

Then, he helped you put on your blouse again, wincing every time his eyes landed on your back, and walked with you to his car. You two drove to his house, his grandma in bed and his granduncle away, which left the whole place for you. It wasn’t like that weekend where everything started – you couldn’t say you were the same person as then, but Arvin loved you even more. He let you sleep on his bed, and he held you through the night until you fell asleep.

Once you had closed your eyes, you didn’t notice anything else. You didn’t notice Arvin barely containing his rage anymore, and getting up to get the gun he had gotten for his birthday. He pressed his lips against your forehead and jumped through the window as you slept, getting into his car.

Arvin Russell didn’t get to pull the tigger that night. When he arrived to the church, he saw the preacher bidding farewell to a young girl, and he waited. Waited until he was alone, and decided that a man like that didn’t deserve the mercy to die. Waited, and then he fell on him in the dark night and left him trembling and bloody, crying out in pain each time Arvin brought his fist on his face. He heard the cracking of the ribs, his nose breaking, and the pathetic sobs the preacher was begging with. Arvin left him unconscious on the woods, with no memories of what had happened.

That day, Arvin broke two knuckles and sprained his wrist. The preacher was sent to the hospital and, out of fear, never put a foot on Knockemstiff again. And you healed, physically and mentally, while Arvin taught you how to read. Loving you every step of the way.

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

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fic: the thing about gravity

The thing about gravity is...

Well, the thing about gravity is, it’s inescapable, isn’t it? By definition. Gravity: noun. The force that attracts a body toward the center of the earth, or toward any other physical body having mass. You don’t fight gravity. You plan for it, or plan around it; you don’t fight.

The thing about gravity is, it doesn’t let go just because its convenient. It doesn’t let go because time marches onward, because the seasons change, even in the event a person wants it to.

The thing about gravity, Jamie sometimes thinks--more and more, if she’s honest with herself, as the years roll by and the memories grow thinner--is in its inevitability.

Maybe this wasn’t what Dani would have wanted. Maybe not. But there’s something about it Jamie hasn’t been able to let go of. Not the year Dani left her. Not the year after that. Not sitting at Flora’s wedding, regaling a room of mostly-strangers with the tale of their life together.

Not now.

There’s a lot in life a person chooses, thinks Jamie, watching herself move around the bathroom in a mirror scrubbed clean as ever. Her hands are precise, her motions certain; if they tremble upon the toothbrush, the lipstick, the washcloth, it’s nothing of alarm. Nothing of note. Just part and parcel of moving forward through the years.

Moving forward, as it were, alone.

She hates that word, Jamie does. Alone. Didn’t use to. Used to be, alone suited her just fine. Maybe better than anything else. Alone left no room for other people’s manipulations, for sharp words or hot water spilled on soft skin. Alone could allow for accidents, but not embarrassments. Not shame. Just the art of learning the next path forward on your own time.

And then came blue eyes, thumbs tucked into fists, a brandished fire poker. An adoration Jamie had never before thought she needed. A kiss in a greenhouse, watched by ghosts.

She wouldn’t trade any of it, even now. Not an inch of what she was able to buy, borrow, and steal with Dani. It was theirs--the messy nights, the languid mornings, the hot tears, the tight embraces. It was theirs, every fern and ficus, every flower, every burned stew and perfect, beautiful laugh. She didn’t get enough time with Dani--Christ, could anything ever be enough, with Dani?--but she knows it was more than they were promised. More than anyone’s promised. She’s grateful, as the lines spring up around her eyes, drawing webs of exhaustion into her skin. She’s grateful, as the strength seeps out of her knees and her hands begin to ache in the cold. She’s so goddamn grateful.

And still. Still, that pull. Because gravity doesn’t fade with time. Gravity doesn’t release simply because other people say it should.

In a way, Jamie finds this reassuring. This one thing, this one immutable fact of reality. Even as Miles raises sons of his own, as Flora develops a line of children’s dolls far more advanced than anything she grafted as child, as Owen begins preparing to pass his restaurant down to those younger and more spry. Henry’s gone now, long gone, and Jamie sometimes wonders if he felt it, near the end. If the pull tugged at his trouser leg in those last moments like an errant child.

Probably not. Henry had his own kind of gravity, didn’t he, made up of those kids and their parents and their bundled-up tragedy. Wasn’t like this. Wasn’t like this at all. She hopes he was happy when he went in his sleep, buoyed on soft dreams of a lost lover’s caress. Hopes he left those kids knowing they’d made it through all the shadows and into the sunlight on the other side.

Owen laughs a lot, when they see each other, about who’s likely to go next. He thinks it’ll be him. She asks him once what he believes he’ll see on the other side, and he’s silent for a long stretch. Long enough for her to know his kind of gravity hasn’t let go, either.

“She’d want to be,” he says quietly, gesturing toward the ceiling of his flat. “You know. Up there.”

“If anyone could get in,” Jamie mutters, and they’re both grinning. He’s regrown his mustache, a fit of youthful pique that makes her feel like they’re both thirty again. She reaches up, almost expecting to find soil caked into her hair.

“I’ve never known what to believe,” he says. “Not the way she did, not with any kind of...faith. But I like to think we get back what we put in. That if she believed she’d go to heaven, to her Heaven, then that’s what she got.”

Jamie waits. She knows him too well, knows he’s getting around to it. And, after another thoughtful sip of wine, he does.

“I don’t know what to believe,” he repeats, and there's the faintest tremor in his voice. “But I know what I would love. I hope...I hope she’s left a place for me. In whatever way you can.”

Jamie reaches over, squeezes his hand. He presses the other to his eyes, inhales deeply.

“Well,” she says at last, “you’ll have to ring me when you find out. I plan to beat you there.”

And they laugh, laugh like old times, like bulky jackets in the rain and spitting bonfires and cake that maybe needs strawberry, maybe needs lemon. They laugh, him believing she’s joking, her knowing she isn’t.

Fact is, with some kinds of gravity, you can feel it. Tugging at your clothes. Whispering around your hair with the breeze. Guiding you forward like a soft hand at the small of your back. Maybe not everyone is granted this kind of luxury, but Jamie thinks Dani was. Thinks it explains everything, really.

And hasn’t she been smelling Dani more and more, after all these years? Not just when she stumbles upon an old package in the back of the closet, a shirt she somehow missed after all this time, but just...sitting. Just sitting with a book, or waking in the night with the sensation of an arm around her waist. It’ll come without warning, a hint of Dani, and then gone.

And hasn’t she been hearing Dani, in the strangest of ways? A snatch of song hummed from a lifetime away. A single peal of that deliriously-breathless laughter. A sigh, the way she only sighed when Jamie kissed her collarbone. Never for any reason she can clarify, never from something so lucky as a tape or a video, just...a signal. Brief. Echoing.

It’s madness, she thinks at first, and then, slowly...no. Not madness. Memory. Memory returning, a little stronger, a little clearer, every year. As if some great cosmic force is actually funneling Dani back to her, instead of clearing out the last of the cobwebs.

A gift. The greatest gift. She can’t say whether she’s earned it, and she certainly isn’t going to try explaining it to anyone else, but...

She wakes one morning, and thinks, is this how she felt? Is this how she knew? There was a note when Dani went, a single page dictated in her slightly-slanted script. Not an explanation or an excuse; simply I love you, and I loved you, and I will love you. There will be other nights, Jamie. Live.

And Jamie did, she thinks with a stab of impatience even now. Jamie did live. For years, for decades, she’s gone on without that smile. Without having Dani there on the other end of the phone, without Dani’s hands on her hips when they danced, without Dani’s ring clinking lightly against her own as they bumped hands across a dinner table. Without Dani, she crawled out of bed each morning and walked through another day. And another. And another. She attended weddings and funerals without Dani; held Miles’ son without Dani; hugged Flora tight as she wept over some accident or other without Dani. She walked the world and she hurt and she cried and she lived without Dani.

And now...

Now, that old gravity. Coming to call.

It isn’t a bad thing, Jamie thinks all the way over on the plane. She’s a picture of parallel storytelling, dressed in her oldest brown flannel shirt, a pair of jeans with holes in the knees, a pair of Converse high-tops that never quite fit right again after a trip into a lake. Her back is bowed, and her hip clicks when she walks from the taxi up the winding drive. It’s not the same, exactly, as last time.

In a way, that’s the greatest mercy. She never could have done this, if she’d thought she’d walk that same path as the same woman who did it so many years ago. The path is the same, perhaps, but the woman is changed. The woman has learned so much about what it is to live in a world that doesn’t have Dani Clayton in it.

She doesn't go to the lake. She goes instead to the house, to whose front door Miles has so kindly granted her a key. He thinks she’s after pure nostalgia, searching for monsters or memories he doesn’t even know he’s missing. Just an old woman, trying to tie her life together with an attractive bow.

Bless him. He doesn’t need to understand this. If any of them ever do put it together, it will be Owen, and Owen alone. She thinks he might be a little upset with her, but not unforgiving. She thinks, if it had been Hannah, he’d do the same thing.

Bly yawns open to her, a great good place brimming over with great complicated history. She walks its rooms slowly, hands brushing over tables and wallpaper and the spot where she always leaned her hip and tossed chopped vegetables into Flora’s hair. She remembers: fixing this lamp, retiling this bathroom, sweeping this front hall. This was hers, before she ever thought to have anything else. A great good place to keep safe and sane.

The kitchen is hard. Upstairs is harder. Her knees creak, and she has to pause for breath before laying her hand on that doorknob. She tells herself it’s old lungs, too many cigarettes, too little clean country air. She tells herself it’s anything except the truth.

For moment, she’s granted one of those gifts. A windfall of blonde hair on the pillowcase, a bare shoulder, a single freckle she’d gone nearly wild upon finding on otherwise clear skin. She closes her eyes, breathes in the stale air of a room gone unused for decades, and thinks it might be the moment right here and now. That fist of gravity, tightening like a reflex around her heart.

But, no. Not yet. There’s one place, one more sight to see.

The sun is nearly set by the time she reaches the greenhouse. She leans her weight against the doorframe, peering inside. It hurts her a little, to see the chaos that has unfurled in her absence. Miles is a good man, but he’s never been much for plants, for quiet cultivation, for long stretches of silence alone in a humid space. Without Jamie’s tending, the life in this room has sprung up in all the wrong places, gone absolutely bananas in all the wrong ways. It isn’t pretty, it isn’t neat, and she almost hates it.

Organic, she thinks wryly, tapping a fist once, twice, against the doorframe. It’s all just bloody organic, and who am I to try to prune any of it now?

She walks the room like she walked the house, slow, methodical. Tipped-over planters, she sets to rights. Weeds gone feral, she brushes her fingertips across. It’s not pretty in here, but it is most certainly alive. More alive than it ever was in her care, maybe. There’s something to that.

A blanket is still spread across the little sofa she used to nap on when the days got especially hot and lazy. She settles herself in, drapes the musty plaid over her lap, leans back against the arm. If she squints, she can almost see another frame wedged in beside her, stiff and trying not to take up too much space.

Oy. Dead boyfriend. It’s over.

It’s a laugh that tastes more like a sob--just one of those dumb little things, one of many that still can set her off at a moment’s notice, and is it still called a haunting if you wouldn’t give it up for the world?--and she bites into her knuckles to muffle the sound. The sky outside has gone a rolling purple, nearly at day’s end. It was a nice sunset, she thinks. A good send-off.

When they find her--when Miles finds her, to be most specific--they’ll think this is how the story ends. An old woman in a greenhouse, asleep. An old woman in a greenhouse, enveloped in endless dream. Miles will cry. He will hoist her into his arms, stand with her the way she once could stand with him on a long night spent dozing by the fireplace, and he will carry her with all the tenderness a ten-year-old boy can never manage.

It will be a fitting end, for the gardener.

It will not be the last of Jamie Clayton.

When she wakes next, the arthritis in her hands has gone. Her knees bend--a bit of resistance, perhaps, but nothing insurmountable. Her eyes peer through the shadows with a keen awareness she’s almost forgotten.

The ring on her finger gleams--not the tarnished luster of decades’ wear, but like the first time Dani slid it over the knuckle, brought it to her lips, baptized it with a nervous breath. She touches it lightly. Glances back over her shoulder at the old woman beneath her thin blanket. Takes a good, long look to cement gravity’s hold.

Live, she thinks, god, yes, Dani. I lived. And when all was said and done, wasn’t I always going to choose you? Wasn’t I always going to come home?

And here, the part of the story she’s been afraid to flip to all these years. The part she can’t plan for. Can’t spin into something fairy-tale or ghostly. It simply is, simply will be, and whatever happens now, Jamie’s stuck into it. Jamie is in the grip of gravity, as she’d always sort of thought she might be.

A soft rap, knuckles--or a mug--against the greenhouse door. Jamie closes her eyes. Can’t quite bring herself to turn, not yet.

Even if, she tells herself. Even if it isn’t right. Even if those eyes aren’t hers. Even if those eyes aren’t there at all.

“Seems an awful long way,” a voice says, mildly amused, “to not even say hello.”

The strength goes out of her all at once, even as she’s spinning, even as her hands are reaching, and Owen was right. Owen was righter than he’ll ever know. It’s what you believe, it’s what you need, it’s what you hope in every stupid aching molecule because sometimes, sometimes the world is not so random and cruel.

Dani could have stepped out of that night, her sweater tucked down past her wrists, her hair pulled back out of her face, and her face. As bright and shining with possibility as ever Jamie remembers. Her eyes, blue as the summer sky. Her lips, finding Jamie’s like there wasn’t so much as a day gone without.

“Didn’t know,” Jamie realizes she’s gasping. “Didn’t know if it would--if you would--”

Dani presses into her forehead, nose nuzzling gently, lips stealing her breath. A ghost story in the flesh--and yet, somehow, a fairy-tale, too. A woman, and a memory, and a heartbeat made of something so precious, Jamie’s sure she isn't worthy.

“You cheated,” Dani says, laughing into the side of her face, kissing everywhere she can reach. “You weren’t meant to follow me.”

She doesn’t sound angry. She sounds as in love as she was the night she tried to coax Jamie into just one more kiss in that hallway.

“You asked me to come back,” Jamie reminds her, hands anchored around Dani’s back, feeling young and strong and better than the last few decades could dream. “You asked me to stay.”

Gravity’s like that. Gravity’s bigger than one person’s selfless heart, bigger than one person’s desperation. Gravity pulls, and maybe it takes time--maybe all things have their time, their place, their two months of blossom for every plant--but, eventually, gravity always wins out. And Jamie could ask questions: how it all works, why Dani’s still Dani, how much of it they’ll remember as the time slips away into nothing. She could make a story out of it.

Instead, she pulls Dani close, winds the fingers of her left hand with the fingers of Dani’s right, and thinks every ghost story needs an ending like this. An ending steeped in love, in mystery, in shadow, in forever.

The thing about gravity is, no matter how long it takes, it always pulls you toward home.

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #all right look it's not like I'm going to be banging one of these out every night (probably)#but sometimes it just lives in my head and needs to leave #had an ask once that's been begging to be expanded on ever since #also oops made myself cry with this one

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

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Intertwined - Chapter 6

Chapter: 6/8

Additional Notes: Fic published in full on my AO3, WizardGlick. This is my favorite chapter 😁

Chapter Content Warnings: Blood, respiratory distress

The record player was still in the kitchen, surrounded by puzzle pieces. Patton switched it on and watched the vinyl spin in a daze. He missed Roman's boastful chatter, missed Logan's even keel. Maybe he should just give up. They clearly didn't want him around, and at a certain point, maybe it was selfish to keep badgering them.

God, he was a mess. Virgil had been too tactful to say anything during last night's Ghost Adventures marathon, but he had kicked his feet up in Patton's lap, and that was telling. It wasn't the reassuring full-body contact he longed for, but Virgil had never been big on touch. He couldn't be what Patton needed, and that was fair. It wasn't Virgil's job to take care of Patton. It was no one's job.

Janus' voice sounded unbidden in his head, reminding him in a distinctly annoyed tone, ' It's your job.'

So Patton picked himself up off the kitchen island and opened the fridge. He liked the work of cooking and cleaning. The domesticity was reassuring and sweet and safe. He cooked and cleaned because he loved. He loved Logan, he loved Roman, he loved Virgil. He wanted to see them safe and fed and contented, free to fulfill their functions because Patton fulfilled his.

As he cracked eggs into a bowl, he wondered if he loved Janus. He probably did. How could he help it?

Janus' smile was a rare thing, and that much sweeter for it. And he was so clever, so self-assured, so determined to help. This whole time, that was what was driving him. He wanted to help Thomas the only way he could, and now he was helping Patton. Because… Because he was just good. Even if he, like Virgil before him, kept that light hidden behind walls of sarcasm and bitterness. Janus was good. And Patton loved him.

He had forgotten to turn on the stove. Patton smiled at himself, because what else could he do, and turned on the stove. As he stood there, anxiously eyeing his half-finished omelette, his fingers found their way to the friendship bracelets around his right wrist. He had two there, Logan's and Roman's. They were both made of soft embroidery floss. Roman's had a little charm, a small silver 'R' that sometimes caught the light and made Patton smile when he noticed it.

He and Janus should have friendship bracelets. It could go on his left wrist next to Virgil's. Virgil wouldn't be happy about it, but… But Patton wanted it. He wanted Janus to feel accepted and loved. And there was no way to do that and spare Virgil's feelings. There was just no winning and Patton wanted, wanted, wanted more than he'd ever wanted anything.. Would it really be so bad to indulge this?

After breakfast, Patton relocated to the living room and asked the mindscape's halls for Janus. Janus did not appear, but the fog of the subconscious at the edges of the walls solidified into a hallway. Patton got to his feet and started to walk. He had never really ventured into the space that Roman referred to as 'the Dark Side,' but there was really nothing foreboding about it. The halls were still well-lit, the carpet still plush beneath his feet.

Eventually, the hall opened up to a cozy little alcove. Janus was huddled up against the wall, staring into the depths of a pure black coffee mug. He flinched when he noticed Patton, then smiled.

It was a slow, unfurling thing: first sheepish, then courteous, and finally, genuine. It lit a fire in Patton's chest, made him feel like he was glowing.

"Patton." Janus tipped his hat, peering out coquettishly from under its brim.

"Sorry," said Patton, "am I interrupting?"

"Oh, yes," said Janus, getting to his feet, "I need to have my coffee in utter silence of the caffeine doesn't take."

He sounded a little hoarse. Patton felt himself cross his arms and draw back to examine Janus, but couldn't stop it from happening. His scales looked the same as ever, more yellow than green under the light, but both eyes were glassy in a way that indicated lack of sleep. He looked tired, Patton decided, but not sick.

"Did I button my shirt wrong?" Janus asked, not actually looking down to check. He kept his eyes on Patton.

"Is there something on your mind?" Patton asked.

Janus countered this question with another question, which Patton supposed was fair: "Did you come down here just for that?"

"Well, actually…" Patton tugged at the tight, precise braid of Logan's friendship bracelet. Why was this so hard? "I thought we could-- If you wanted to--" His nerves were taking over and he was helpless to stop them, couldn't control the way his voice trembled. He started over. "So, no pressure, obviously, but I just thought it might be nice if we, you know, made friendship bracelets together." Patton held up his forearms so Janus could see. "If you want."

Tears were forming in Janus' human eye; his chest hitched with uneven breaths. Patton was already raising his arms to offer a hug when Janus turned away and started to cough. Oh.

The fit, though it sounded terrible, ended quickly. Janus straightened, drawing a yellow handkerchief back into his sleeve like a magician. "What," he said, pretending to look at his fingernails, "are the odds of you believing that was nothing?"

"It didn't sound like nothing," Patton said.

Janus sighed and leaned back against the wall, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but I think that our dear benevolent prince might be a little angrier than he let on."

"You think Roman's doing this to you?" That didn't sound like him. He could be stubborn, sure, maybe even bull-headed, but it really wasn't like him to make someone sick. At least, not on purpose.

"It's not Remus," Janus said, crossing his arms. "There's nothing else wrong with me."

"It's just a cough?"

"Just a cough."

Patton tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. "Roman's not really talking to me at the moment--"

"Typical," Janus muttered.

Not wanting to fight, Patton let this go. "But I'll see if I can… Well, I'll see what I can do."

Janus nodded, then seemed to remember something. His jaw worked for a second, his eyes darting everywhere except Patton's face. "Thank you."

Patton nodded, still inexplicably afraid. Now was his chance to leave, since Janus hadn't acknowledged his offer. If he sank out fast enough-- But what exactly was he running from? He wasn't Logic, but he couldn't deny that it made no sense to run from something he couldn't even identify. "So, um. Did you want to…?"

"Where?" Janus asked.

The trapdoor to the speakeasy opened beneath their feet. Patton's door appeared down the hall. He and Janus looked at each other in silence.

"The lighting might be a little better in my room," Patton said finally. He wasn't sure which of them had caused his door to appear. The subconscious was tricky like that sometimes.

"By all means," Janus said.

It was a little nerve-wracking to have Janus in his room. Patton wasn't quite sure why. Maybe the idea that Janus might not like it, and by extension, not like him. After all, Patton's room was as much an extension of himself and his function as his body was.

Janus stepped quietly over the threshold, holding himself still except for his eyes, which darted from object to object.

"Let me know if you start feeling all sentimental," Patton said, a thrill of nerves tingling his spine. "I don't have a lot of practice controlling my room." Janus probably didn't want to cry today, or ever. Not that he seemed like the type to get caught up in nostalgia. Like Logan, he was ruthless, cutting away what didn't serve him with the precision of a surgeon. Or so it seemed.

Janus nodded. Patton frowned. He'd been awfully quiet since Patron had extended the invitation. He almost seemed scared, which didn't make sense. They were safe in here. Too safe, if Patton let them be, sequestered in this hall of nostalgia's anesthetic haze.

"Are those California poppies?" Janus asked, striding forward to a dresser (the design of which had come from a memory of sleepovers at Thomas' grandmother's house).

"Where?" Patton asked, turning on his heel to look. It was difficult to move without tripping over the odd bin or crate of memorabilia. He found himself faced with a choice to either bend backwards to see around Janus or to stand right next to him. Far too close for propriety, they would be wedged right up against each other like the yearbooks on the far bookshelf.

Patton's heart started to race. Why? Why should he be nervous? He bent backwards, muscles aching in protest at the awkward pose, and peered around Janus' body. "I can't tell."

Janus turned, squinting at Patton's predicament, before looking down at the bins on the floor. He seemed to grasp the issue and extended a hand for Patton to take. "Come here."

Come here. Innocuous words, but the same ones he'd used to bring Patton into his arms that terrible night. Patton's heart fluttered.

He stepped over a stack of textbooks and entered Janus' space. Janus' capelet was soft and velvety against his bare arm; his sleeve a little rougher.

"Are they?" Janus asked.

The poppies were already wilting a little and Patton couldn't help but feel sad about that, even though they were imaginary. "Yes."

"How did you get them?"

"California," Patton said, the memory coming to him on a warm breeze that smelled of the outdoors. "Thomas sees them every time he gets to go."

Janus stifled a cough into the back of his hand, nodding all the while. "He wore them in his hair once."

Patton smiled, mind awash in golden light. Thomas and his friends were making a brief pit stop as they journeyed down I-5 and someone, it didn't even matter who, had spotted the blooms growing by the roadside. And they had all worn flowers in their hair for the rest of the day, bright faces made brighter by the addition of something so beautiful. "Do you like California poppies, Janus?"

"It's funny," Janus said, in a tone so devoid of sarcasm and teasing that Patton nearly did a double-take, "It never occurred to me to like them. But seeing them like this…"

He trailed off, coloring slightly, and Patton's breath caught in his throat. He understood perfectly, too perfectly, and it made him tremble.

It had never occurred to him to love Janus, until one day it did. But this-- Oh, no. Oh, no. Not like this. This couldn't be allowed. Janus glanced over at him and Patton felt his smile snap into place despite the newfound ache of wanting beneath his ribs.

"And here I thought you were going to keep me safe from your room," Janus teased.

"Oops!" Patton ran a hand through his hair. "Give me a second here; I can make a space." He thought for a moment before sitting them both down at a wooden picnic table. He imagined embroidery floss in every color, bins stacked with beads, scissors, and two rolls of masking tape just to be safe.

"Summer camp," Janus said, smiling that crooked smile.

Despite his best efforts, Patton blushed. He tried not to hate himself for it because Janus wouldn't want that. But he also knew he was being far too selfish now, wanting Janus all for himself. There was a line and he had crossed it. "Do you remember what to do?"

Janus was already pawing through the embroidery thread. Loose strands clung to his gloves and Patton watched, intrigued, as Janus' mouth curled into that not-smile he sometimes wore when he was making fun. He withdrew his hands, trailing rainbow strings despite his efforts to shake them off, and glanced at Patton, startling a little when their eyes met.

Patton wasn't sure what to say. 'It's okay' felt hollow, less than a lie. Utterly meaningless. Janus' gloves meant something to him, something that went deeper than just aesthetics. Patton understood, in that moment, what it was all for: the gloves, the high collar, the hat, the sarcasm, the biting remarks, the exaggeration. All guarding Janus' heart. He must have been very afraid. Suddenly his irritation at Patton's inability to prioritize himself made perfect sense.

"I can help you," Patton said, not wanting Janus to feel pressured into taking off his gloves. "You can keep them on, just tell me what colors--"

"Don't be stupid," Janus snapped. "It's just clothing."

"Oh," said Patton. Heat flooded his face, impending tears burning in his eyes. Understanding didn't make it hurt less.

Janus didn't say anything, couldn't, because he was muffling those awful, barking coughs into his sleeve. They sounded so much worse than yesterday. Patton stared at a skein of auburn embroidery floss. He would have to find some way to get through to Roman.

"That was inappropriate," Janus said when he resurfaced. He was a little out of breath; his breath caused loose strings to flutter.

"I understand," Patton said.

"You do?"

Here, Patton hesitated. It seemed a little rude to read Janus, as Roman would say. He had obviously lashed out because he was scared of something.

Janus winced, pressed his lips together, shifted where he sat. "I'm sorry." He wouldn't look at Patton. "I shouldn't have said that."

"We can do this another time," Patton said, "if you're not ready. I just wanted…" It seemed stupid to say it out loud now, stupid and manipulative. "I wanted you to feel accepted."

Janus tugged his gloves off without fanfare, folded them neatly, and set them down on the table. His left hand was scaled, which Patton supposed he should have anticipated. "Don't look," Janus said. Patton frowned, trying to parse this, and Janus elaborated, "I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh!" Patton said, relief flooding his chest like morning sunlight through an eastward-facing window. "Okay." He stared at the embroidery thread, thinking. He had never been all that good at color theory, but… Maybe he could do a dark green for Janus's scales, and gold because they shimmered. To represent himself, he would of course use blue thread. And for the two of them, gray. But what shade of green…? Patton picked up a skein of army green floss, then kelly green, then moss green. "Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I need to look at you."

"Oh, Patton, I'm flattered, but need?"

"Can you just give me your hand for a second?" Patton asked, blushing.

"Which one?" Janus asked archly.

"The left one."

"...What for?"

Patton, still not looking at Janus, held up the three skeins of embroidery floss. "I need to color match."

Janus let out a huff of air through his nose. "I'm much prettier than that."

Then an idea struck. "Ooh, I know what to do! I still need your hand, though."

"Alright, alright." Janus leaned over, extending his hand to Patton. He flinched a little when Patton held it in his own, but did not pull away.

"Hmm," said Patton, examining the scales and the way they reflected back the light. It took a bit of thinking, but he managed to imagine a skein of thread in the same glossy green-gold color.

Then Janus stiffened and started to cough again, his hand curling around Patton's fingers until his nails dug painfully into Patton's skin. The fit was low and ragged and rough, left Janus teary eyed and gasping.

"You're sure this is Roman?" Patton asked, dimly aware that he was still holding Janus' hand.

"Forget it," Janus said, his voice like tattered silk. "You said you'd talk to him."

"I'll go right now if you want me to."

Janus shook his head. "Are you done with my hand? If not, I have a few to spare."

"Oh!" said Patton. "Yes. Sorry." He let go of Janus's hand, knuckles aching where Janus' nails had dug in. Janus' cough must have hurt far more than he was letting on.

Right. Compartmentalize. Friendship bracelets.

Patton picked his colors, eyeballed the thread length, cut them down, and taped the ends to the table. He decided on a simple striped pattern, flat, so it could slide easily under Janus's sleeve or the cuffs of his gloves.

"So you and Remus?" Patton said after he had fallen into a rhythm and didn't need to focus quite so hard.

"We're friends, yes."

"But you said--" Patton cut himself off, embarrassed. He certainly didn't want to be reminded of that awful night, and Janus probably didn't either.

"I know."

Patton was pulling too hard. He set his threads down and added another piece of tape. "I don't get it."

Janus sighed. "I'd rather not talk behind his back, but I will say this: He was on his worst behavior when he introduced himself."

Patton considered this but couldn't think of anything to say other than 'thank God.' That seemed rude, so he just kept his mouth shut. The silence that ensued felt equally as rude, and words slipped out of Patton's mouth before he could stop himself, "Do you love him?"

Janus didn't answer. Patton was tempted to look at him, to try to read his expression, but didn't want to risk ruining the surprise. Finally, Janus sighed and Patton heard the gentle rustle of his clothing as he shifted in his seat. "Defensive sarcastic quip."

Patton dropped his threads again so he could muffle a laugh behind his hands. "Sorry, was that too personal?"

"No, no, I love talking about myself. Maybe next you can ask me about my deepest fears."

"I didn't mean to be pushy," Patton said. It was hard not to be; he was so full of love love love he just wanted to give it away like Tupperwares full of snickerdoodles, like wildflower bouquets. He wanted Janus, wanted his whole fam-ILY to know and feel it as deeply as he felt it.

And Janus especially, Patton wanted to tell him with his lips, with his hands, with his tongue. His whole body radiating love.

But just because he wanted didn't mean he could have. He ached with a selfish desire to be held again, safe in Janus' arms. But even Patton was smart enough to understand that that moment was over and done with. They had shared it, and now it was another snapshot for the shoebox Patton kept in his closet. His own memories, separate from Thomas. A testament to his personhood.

They worked in silence after that, until Patton's wandering thoughts came to rest, inevitably, on the trouble at hand. "Hey, Janus?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think we should do now? Thomas can't keep going like this for much longer, I don't think. He hasn't done anything. And I-- I'm not saying-- I'm not trying to say it's, you know, immoral to rest, but this doesn't seem healthy." And also, it did chafe Patton a little, to see Thomas being so lazy, but he could keep that to himself.

"The sooner Logan and Roman get over themselves, the better," Janus said.

"I haven't checked on them yet today." Patton heaved a sigh and tried to focus on his pattern. He had the matte gray hooked around his finger at the moment, his own deliberate reminder to compromise.

"They haven't checked on you at all."

"So, what, then?" Patton asked, struggling not to look up. "I should get mad and ignore them right back?"

"That's what I would do," Janus said. "And you did ask. But…" A long-ish pause. "As we both know, I'm always right."

Oh. Patton closed his eyes, trying not to fold over and bury his forehead in the rough wood of the picnic table. He'd never wanted to see the worst in Janus, but he'd been bracing for it all the same. And every time he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, it never happened.

That didn't mean they were never going to fight. Patton knew he was naive, but he wasn't that naive. But he had been bracing for something so much worse than this.

It was for Thomas. He had to remind himself. Janus had even said so, down in the parlor. It was all for Thomas. And Patton was sure, when it came time to make the next big decision, they would be at odds again.

But maybe… Maybe it didn't have to be so hostile. Couldn't they disagree without being enemies?

"You are always right, Janus," Janus said in Patton's voice. "And you're so handsome, and smart, too."

It was equal parts creepy and amusing, but Patton appreciated what Janus was trying to do, so he smiled. "I mean, you are smart. And h--" The word caught in his throat. They did all look very similar, though the subtle nature of the subconscious altered their appearances somewhat. It sharpened up Janus' features some, took away several inches of height, made his eyes dark and flashing. "And handsome," Patton finished weakly.

"You already said that," Janus said, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

"You're sweet, is what you are," Patton teased back.

"Finished," said Janus.

Patton blinked, thrown off, before he realized what Janus meant. "I'm almost done. Give me juuuust a second." He finished the bracelet with a practiced hand. "Can I look now?"

"Give me your hand. Then you can look."

Patton extended his left hand and finally looked over at Janus for the first time since they had started. The bright colors of the bracelet caught his eye immediately; it was an intricate weave of only two colors: bright yellow and true blue. Janus fingers were deft and gentle around Patton's wrist. He made no remarks about the purple and black bracelet already tied on.

"Oh, Janus, it's perfect!" Patton said. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. He let them fall, unashamed. It was nice to cry happy tears for once. "Your turn."

Janus pushed up his sleeve, tilting his head at Patton's bracelet. "What does it mean?"

"The green is for your scales," Patton explained, positioning the bracelet around Janus' right wrist. "The blue is for me. And the gray is.." He paused, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, it's a reminder."

One of the ends brushed against Janus' forearm and he twitched, nearly pulling out of Patton's grasp. "That tickled," he explained.

"You're ticklish?"

"No," Janus said, far too quickly for it to be the truth.

Patton smiled at him, though he knew they were a long way off from friendly touches. It struck him then just how badly he wanted that future. He wanted cuddle sessions with Janus on the couch, just the two of them. He wanted stolen kisses in the kitchen and tickle fights in bed. He wanted Janus, body and soul, consequences be damned. "Noted," Patton said. "Janus: totally not ticklish, even a little bit."

"Gospel truth," Janus said.

Patton finished tying on the bracelet and sat back. "Well…" He didn't want to leave his room, which was a sure sign it was time to go. "I'd better go check on my kiddos."

To his surprise, Janus didn't scowl or nag. He tugged his gloves back on, carefully sliding the bracelet inside the cuff. "What do you say to them?"

"Just that I'm here," Patton said. "And I love them.

"You know, Patton--" Janus got up and held the door open, breaking the spell of Patton's room somewhat-- "sometimes I think you're too good for the likes of us."

And then he was gone, sinking out before Patton could ask him what he meant by that.

Patton went first to Logan's room. Logan had maintained his silence after the meeting, not even answering to tell Patton to go away. The only hint Patton had that he was still in there was that Thomas hadn't gone completely off the rails.

"Hey, Logan." Patton knocked gently. "I'll go away soon, because I know you don't want me to bother you. I just wanted to say… Well, I'm not sure what you need right now, but I know this isn't it. So whenever you're ready to come out, I'll be here." It was so hard not to spill his guts to that plain white door. Almost like a confessional, only that Logan stubbornly refused to tell him what he had to do to earn forgiveness. "I'll go now. Come get me if you need anything, okay? I love you and I miss you." He waited a few seconds for any signs of movement within, but there was nothing.

Down the hall to Roman's room then.

The sight of Virgil seated on the floor with his back pressed up against Roman's cherrywood door made Patton pause, breaths stuttering in his chest.

He kept his distance, but Virgil had startled at the sound of his steps on the carpet.

Patton flashed him a thumbs up and cocked his head.

Virgil nodded.

Patton sank out. What else could he do? If Roman would rather talk to Virgil than to him, well… Patton couldn't blame him.

He sat down heavily at the kitchen island, staring down at the half-finished puzzle. Tears blurred his eyes and he took off his glasses as they started to fall. He was so, so sick of crying. He did it all the time. Every strong emotion moved him to tears.

He wanted to crawl back to Janus' room, relive that tender night. Just once, he wanted someone else to pick him up off the ground. He was thoroughly sick of being his own hero.

He had mostly gotten himself under control by the time Virgil popped up by the fridge. It was only his breathing that still troubled him, heavy and painful in his chest.

"Hey, Virge."

"Since when do you call me that?" Virgil asked, opening the fridge.

It was reflex more than anything that forced Patton to his feet. "I can make you something."

"You don't have to," Virgil mumbled, cheeks going scarlet under his foundation.

"I want to," Patton said. That much was still true, at least. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Uh, I was just gonna make a sandwich," Virgil said.

"BLT?"

"Sure."

Patton nodded, clenching his left hand into a fist by his side. Virgil was incredibly observant; he was bound to notice Janus' friendship bracelet. Patton wasn't sure whether to let him or to bring it up.

Virgil saved him from having to decide. "Where have you been all morning?" Patton wordlessly held up his arm, feeling for all the world like a guilty child. Sure enough, Virgil's eyes narrowed. But to Patton's surprise, no lecture followed. "Janus made that?"

"Mm-hm." Patton nodded. "I made him one, too."

"Is he wearing it?" Virgil asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Patton said, a little emboldened now that he knew Virgil wasn't angry. "Tied it on myself."

"He let you do that? Janus?" Virgil ran both hands through his hair, looking at Patton like he'd just expressed a desire to go cliff diving while blindfolded.

"I mean, I didn't have to tie him down."

Virgil sighed through his nose and wandered to the kitchen island with a lost expression. "That's weird."

Patton opened up the fridge. "Are you okay?" he said to the condiments rack, not wanting to make Virgil uncomfortable with too much eye contact.

"Watch him," Virgil said. "Watch him like a hawk… A hawk with binoculars."

"Aww!" said Patton, picturing it. "Oh! How's Roman?"

"Conflicted," Virgil said. "I told him you've been hanging out with Janus."

Patton bit his tongue and pulled a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer. It wasn't wrong to spend time with Janus. He loved Janus. Love was never wrong. "How'd he take it?"

"Nnnot that bad?" Virgil said. "I think it helps that Thomas hasn't gone full, y'know, Squip."

"You know I wouldn't let that happen," Patton said. He moved over to the counter and paused to take a few deep breaths. His chest hurt a little. Probably just from crying too much. But that reminded him of Janus and that worrisome, mysterious cough. "By the way, does Roman seem… in control?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, he accidentally made it super cold for a little bit."

"Oh," said Virgil, "yeah. He apologized for that. He's okay now."

Patton nodded, trying not to let his worry show on his face. But it crept into the corners of his mind and kept him silent as he made two BLTs. If Janus was sure it wasn't Remus and Virgil was sure it wasn't Roman… Who else could it be? Or what else?

No answers sprang into Patton's mind. He bit his lip and stabbed one fancy toothpick each through sandwiches. He slid one plate over to Virgil, mindful not to upset any stray puzzle pieces, then rounded the kitchen island to sit next to Virgil.

"You…" he started, and paused to catch his breath. "You're not mad, are you?"

"I mean, I don't love that you're hanging out with Janus. I wish you wouldn't. I wish he'd leave us all alone and go back to slinking around in the shadows like the snake he is." Virgil turned his head to look at the new friendship bracelet on Patton's arm. "But you're your own Side. It would be wrong for me to try to control you. I just really hope he doesn't hurt you, Patton."

"So you're not mad?"

"No, pop star, I'm not mad. Just worried about you."

"Thanks, kiddo."

It seemed that these days, the mindscape was just made up of one crisis after another. After spending a pleasant day with Virgil, albeit with his breaths dragging in and out of his body like the air was too thick to breathe, the next morning found Patton doubled over in a fit of coughing so intense it knocked his glasses off. He ducked right back into his room, kicking his glasses in before him, and spat out a mouthful of heart-shaped flowers onto the floor.

Hm. Uh-oh. He wasn't an expert on biology, but he was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to happen.

The blooms were pretty, though, bright magenta hearts with little white tails. Bleeding hearts, they were called.

Patton frowned. Hadn't Janus said… Yes. 'I want you to protect that bleeding heart of yours.' How ironic. Maybe. Patton could never seem to use 'irony,' right, something Logan was always quick to point out.

He coughed again, but no flowers came up this time. That was good, probably. Coughing was bad, coughing up blood was worse. Surely coughing up flowers had to be somewhere in the middle.

He stood up straight again and banished the flowers into nothingness. Was it coincidence that Janus had a cough? Was it contagious? He hadn't said anything about flowers, though.

Patton sank out, grabbing his glasses on the way. If he was coughing, then he was probably sick. He knew how to handle that.

Since Virgil rarely spent time in the living room, Patton could hole up there with tea and toast and Adventure Time on the TV. Just until he was better, and then it would be right back to trying to fix things. He wondered if Janus would be proud or whether he would just push for Patton to rest more. Maybe both.

Virgil made an appearance a few hours later, about the time that Patton felt his patience running thin. The cough wasn't getting better, but he had no full-body fatigue to make the cartoon marathon bearable. Sitting still for too long made him antsy.

"Roman invited me in," Virgil called from the kitchen, dashing any hopes Patton had for conversation. "I just wanted to let y-- What are you doing?"

"I think I'm getting sick," Patton explained, wincing as the words seemed to claw their way out of his torn-up throat.

"Are you okay?"

Patton nodded. Aside from the cough, he really did feel fine. Maybe this would pass quickly. "Tell Roman I said hi."

"Will do." Virgil gave one last, lingering look before he sank out.

This left Patton alone with the ache in his chest and the vast loneliness threatening to swallow him whole. He tried not to think too much about Janus, lest he inadvertently summon him again, but it was so hard now. He didn't ever want to be apart from Janus. It was such a pure and simple yearning that Patton couldn't even feel guilty for it (though he did feel an echo of guilt that he didn't feel guilty). But it was a desire born of love, and how could that be bad?

The only bad thing about it was that Janus didn't love him back. Of course he didn't. How could he? All he ever did was run around babysitting Patton through crying spells, desperately trying to get him to pull himself together. There was nothing remotely attractive about that. In fact, with Janus, it seemed that all Patton did was take, take, take. He was guilty of the exact behavior that had him so wrung-out and desperate in the first place. How embarrassing.

Patton coughed into the crook of his arm, catching flowers and leaves in his mouth and banishing them without looking. He'd been sick before, they all had, but never like this. He almost wished for fatigue or a headache, something to make resting a little more bearable. Right now, he just felt lazy.

A bottle of NyQuil appeared on the couch next to him, nestled up against an embroidered throw pillow. Patton looked at it. He could already hear Logan lecturing him about the dangers of misusing medication, but… Patton was sick. And he was imaginary. And Thomas probably knew better than to chug NyQuil at the first sign of illness.

It would be fine. Patton poured out a dose and drank it down with his nose plugged in the hopes of masking the alcohol-tinged artificial sweetness. He still shuddered at the syrupy sensation on his tongue. Then he sank out, changed into his pajamas, and buried himself under his covers to slip into a coma.

#sanders sides fanficion #sanders sides #moceit #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

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legends-of-apex · 4 years ago

Text

Loba x Reader x Crypto: ‘Something More’ (Part 2/2) SMUT 18+

Summary: A continuation of Part I in which Loba, Crypto and The Reader go back to the Reader's room in the legends compound to decrypt the files taken from Pathfinder's chip. Inevitably, Loba's proposition is brought up and smut ensues. You can also read this on AO3 if you prefer!

A/N: Hello! Here's the second and final part. This chapter does contain smut after the cut. I've spent the best part of a month on this so I promise there is still a plot as well :D Hope you like it! And I would love to hear your thoughts! Reader's pronouns aren't specified however they are referred to as having a vagina/breasts etc. so please keep that in mind x Warnings under the cut!

Words: 7, 788

Warnings: This fic contains heavy smut including oral (reader receiving and giving), fingering, penetrative sex and scissoring

The rest of the match went relatively uneventfully, with the three of you finishing fourth after being ambushed by another squad. There hadn’t even been enough time to see who it was before you blacked out. When you awoke, a bright light beaming down upon you made you squeeze your eyes shut again. Forcing yourself to sit up, you felt the familiar rubber of the med bay beds beneath your fingertips. When you dared open your eyes again the lights weren’t so bad and you could actually look around the room. Your head felt heavy, your mind off-centered. A nurse was wrapping your fingers around a glass of water before you could ask for one to soothe your aching throat.

“Hey, can you tell me where you are?” He asked you. Bright eyes brimmed over the top of his surgical mask. He was the same nurse from every other time you were revived after a match and he always had the same questions.

“The med bay back at the compound?” You asked, cautiously lifting the water to your lips.

“Yeah! Well done out there today. You guys were great!” He took the empty glass from you when you were finished and set it down by the sink, his black scrubs rustling as he moved around the room, looking at the various monitors that hung like cobwebs from the walls, “How are you feeling?”

“Just a small headache. The usual.” You answered, knowing if you gave even a slightly different answer you could end up stuck in here for days. The headache you had post-match was always the same, pounding and everywhere all at once. It probably had something to do with the serum they used to revive you after the match but you were more concerned about Loba and Crypto right now. You hadn’t seen them go down.

“Great! Well, you’re all healed, vitals are great. You’re free to head out.” He seemed to sense your eagerness to leave and for that you were thankful.

Loba was waiting for you outside the room when you stepped out, pushing herself off the wall and uncrossing her arms when she saw you. She walked towards you with her arms open, engulfing you in a hug when she reached you. With her six-inch heels and already naturally impressive height, she almost dwarfed you, your chin only just being able to rest atop her shoulder. You knew she was just glad you were okay, but displays of affection were rare for her. Even if the hallway you were in was empty. Usually, she wouldn’t be caught sharing any shred of weakness, but after a match? She always got a little sappy, even if she would never admit it.

“Shall we go wait for the hacker?” She pulled back to look at your face and you nodded before taking her hand, walking towards Crypto’s usual med bay room. His name printed on the outside of the door. Loba peered through a tiny window in the door. “Is he still in there?” You asked. It was unusual for anyone to be kept so long and he knew not to say anything that might prolong his stay. Unless there was some kind of complication? You tried not to think about it.

Loba scoffed. “Oh please, he wouldn’t leave without seeing you alive and well first. He’s still in there alright.” She spared a glance your way and recognised that look on your face. You were worried, even though the chances of any post-match complications were extremely low, nearly non-existent. “I wouldn’t worry, sweetheart. He was downed last so they’ll have had less time with him than us.” She saw that did very little to calm your nerves and decided to change the subject to take your mind off of it. She lowered her voice, knowing for sure that there were cameras and microphones all over this place. “Hey, we might get some promising information out of that chip, huh? Any information we can get on them brings us one step closer, no matter how small the step.” All you did was nod when usually you’d be beaming with excitement at the prospects of new information on the Syndicate and you weren't doing a particularly good job of hiding the fact that you couldn't care less about anything right now except for Crypto still being in that room.

“You really give a shit about him, huh?” she asks and you look to her, confused.

“If it was you in there I’d be just as worried.” Loba sighed and took your hand again, bringing your knuckles to her lips before squeezing your fingers gently, careful not to scratch you with her nails. That meant more to her than you knew.

The door before you opened with a click as Crypto finally emerged, hands already stuffed back in his jacket pockets by the time the door shut behind him. The look of relief on your face was enough to tell him you’d been worrying. You had dropped Loba’s hand in an instant and went to hug him, opening your arms a little first and waiting for his permission. He felt himself sigh into your arms, his own wrapping around you tightly as he could. However brief, he would always treasure each touch you gave him. You made him realise how much he craved being held, being close to people. It made him forevermore thankful that he was lucky to be as close to you as he was, even Loba as well to some extent. You shared a piece of your life with him, your kindness, your time and occasionally: your bed. Whilst you did the same for Loba, he never found himself growing jealous, only more thankful to have you when he did.

“You still got the chip?” Loba asked him over your shoulder. He nodded. “We had better get to it. The decryption might take a while.”

The first thing you did when you got back to your room was kick off your shoes and flop down, face-first, on your bed. All the running and the stress of the games could really take its toll. Meanwhile, Crypto headed straight for your PC, plugging in all kinds of strange contraptions and external hard drives no doubt filled with some kind of dodgy software. Loba asked if she could use your shower to which you told her there were already fresh towels in there ready to be used as you gathered a bundle of clothes for her to wear when she finished.

You looked to your broken arm shield emitter and groaned as you were getting changed into more comfortable clothes than your games gear, the realisation that you actually had to fix it dawned on you. You struggled to your feet and pulled up a chair beside Crypto at your desk and released the shield from your arm with a whirr. Most of it had survived, only a few small grenade fragments lay buried within it. Easy fix.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I overheard some of what you guys were saying earlier. Loba had her communicator still on. And I just want you to know that although I did tell Loba about us sleeping together, I haven’t said a word about… you know, you. Your identity. That’s yours to tell and I would never betray that information to anyone, even Loba.” You were one of two living people with the privilege of referring to him by his real name in private. By telling you about his past, even just by telling you his name, he put so much trust in you. And you wouldn't betray that for anyone.

He stopped typing to look at you, letting you know he was sincere. “I know you wouldn’t. I trust you more than anyone. But thank you for the reassurance. And I’m sorry that you heard that, I don’t wish for you to be treated like an object.”

You knew then that he didn't quite trust Loba’s intentions with her proposition but were quick to reassure him. “Oh, don’t worry. Loba asked if I was down for it beforehand. And it’s sweet that you two want to make me feel good, but I don’t require any payment for what I do for you two, especially in that kinda way. I do it because I care about you.” Tweezers in hand, you carefully began removing the fragments from your device. It was a good excuse to not have to look Taejoon in the eye during the conversation.

“Heh, that’s precisely why Loba thought you to be deserving of such an arrangement. And I have to say, I agree. You need to let us give back to you, though it doesn’t have to be in the form of what Loba was suggesting. In any way that you choose.” You could have laughed. On their own, they were amazing enough, both more than proficient and attentive lovers but together? You couldn't help but groan at the thought. “ Trust me , as long as you two are up for it that arrangement is totally fine by me! I couldn't think of anything better.”

You see Crypto’s head move suddenly in the corner of your eye, you turn to see Loba looking the softest you had ever seen her. Her hair was damp, falling all the way down to her waist. A pair of your baggy sweatpants hung low around her hips. She looked comfortable, her eyes held no sense of impending danger and you swore it was the first time you had seen her so at ease.

“Is that my shirt?” Crypto asks and she shrugs, looking down at the plain black material. “I don’t know, is it? It’s… cute?”, You sheepishly turn back to face Crypto as Loba dives straight onto your bed, stretching out on her back. “Maybe?” you offered, knowing damn well it was his from the last time he had stayed over. He wasn’t going to pry it off of you as you slept, especially since you looked so comfortable. It was his pair of sweatpants too, but he didn't need to know that. A low grumble sounded from your stomach and you took that to be the perfect topic change, “How about take-out?”.

“Lovely idea, I’m starving!”

You phoned up the best pizza company you knew, the woman on the line informed you that it would take a while because of the games. People liked to go for pizza after watching the apex games apparently. “We’re going to have to wait a while.” You said solemnly, hopping onto your bed behind Loba and taking your hairbrush from her hand. Her hair was long and so very soft. Crypto politely excused himself to also take a shower whilst you played with her hair. You combed through it with your fingers first. Loba released a long breath as you dragged the brush from the edge of her forehead, down her scalp and all the way down her back, holding the ends in your other hand. “So Crypto’s down for your idea.” You gently gathered her hair together in a bunch before letting it fan out again over her back, the strands so long they reached the covers below.

Loba leant back a little, resting on her palms. “Oh? I’m not surprised. He seems like he would do anything that involves you. That poor boy looks at you like you’re made of gold.” She chuckled, looking back at you over her shoulder. You pecked her lips, her skin was soft and supple with a subtle hint of cherry lip balm. “Ugh, I can’t wait to devour you.” She groaned, “If he doesn’t get out of that shower in the next two minutes, we’re starting without him.”

“So impatient!” You laughed, “Hair up or down?”

“Eh, leave it down.”

Crypto made his way out the bathroom still towelling off his soggy hair. He set his jacket on the back of your desk chair, along with his waistcoat and every other piece of his games gear apart from his baggy trousers and t-shirt. The pendants on his necklaces jingled together as he moved around, like a cat with a bell.

Far too impatient for subtly it seems, Loba decided now was the best time to initiate things “She looks good enough to eat, don’t you think Crypto?” He stops in his tracks, towel still raised to his head with his mouth hanging open before he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He hummed in agreement, taking the towel and folding it in half before laying it over the chair behind him. He now leaned his back against the desk so he could face you, bare arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you. You couldn’t help but blush at Loba’s words and the way he was looking at you, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Loba now turned to face you, mischief and wanting in her eyes and leaned in close. “We would love to take care of you if you’ll have us, of course.” She pressed a single kiss to the side of your neck, your skin tingling from the warmth of her lips, “What do you say?” You turned your attention back to Crypto who looked at you in question, his head tilted. Neither of them were moving without your say so.

“Sounds perfect.”

With that pushed you back so your head lay gently on the pillows. Her finger wagged in Crypto’s direction when he took a step forward, telling him to stay put. He gulped and leant back against the desk again. “Well then. Just relax and let us take care of you, hm?” She ended her question with a smile, already sliding downwards onto the bed in front of you. Placing her hands on either side of your sweatpants and giving the outside of your thighs a light squeeze. She looked up at you through her lashes, asking if she could take them off. You nodded and soon she had them tugged off, your socks soon followed.

She leant right down, pressing a kiss to the cloth of your underwear, her lips putting the lightest flutter of pressure on your heat. Your mouth fell open and she laughed quietly, seeing a dark patch on the fabric of your underwear. “Mhmm already dripping for us, Crypto.” she called back to him over her shoulder, “What do you say we take these off as well? No need to be shy. We already know how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” You nodded again, her fingers delicately taking the band of your underwear and making quick work of shimming them off your legs. A string of words, no doubt in Portuguese left her, as she took a moment to look at you. She had spoken far too quickly for you to have any hope of understanding what she was saying.

Her hands were on your sides in an instant, and her lips were back on yours as her hands made their slow descent back down towards your heat. Her kisses a rough contrast to the preciseness of her touch. She kissed with her heart it seems, everything else was calculated. A shiver wracked its way through you when her fingertips reached the hem of your shirt, but she didn’t lift it, only gently massaged the bottom of your stomach and over the tops of your thighs. Circular motions everywhere except the place you wanted them to be.

Her lips left you as you whined softly, “So eager.” she smiled at you again, before leaning in to kiss your neck as her fingers finally touched where you so craved them so much. A moan escaped you as she wasted no time in finding your heat, circling her two fingertips within its wetness before dragging them up and down your slit. Over her shoulder, you could see Crypto standing biting his lip so hard it looked like it would bleed, face flushed.

Sucking gently on the soft skin of your neck, Loba pressed her two fingers right onto your clit. You couldn’t help the noises that escaped you or how you clung to her so desperately. She soon switched back and forth between gently massaging all-around your folds and slowly circling one finger directly to your nub. She was teasing you. The alteration driving you insane, legs beginning to shake. Just as you felt the dam about to burst she drew back away from you entirely, leaning back on her knees as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked on them lightly.

“How does she taste?” Crypto asked, his face warm. Loba leaned back from you and you near-whined at the loss.

She brought her fingers back down your heat and gathered some of your wetness onto her fingers again, standing and extending her fingers in his direction. “Like honey. Want to try?” He bypassed her altogether and walked towards you. “Suit yourself, Hacker,” she rolled her eyes.

“May I?” He asked so softly you nearly melted then and there. “Yes, please.” You managed and before you knew it he was sliding one of your legs over his shoulder, shortly followed by the other. He began by pressing the gentlest of kisses to your thighs.

“Ooh nevermind.” Loba went back on her previous statement with an approving nod of her head, “One second.” The glare he sent in her direction could’ve stopped a charging bull but Loba just waved him off and laid down beside you, pulling you into her lap so she could support your body. Crypto tugged you down towards him so the back of your head rested against Loba’s chest. Warmth radiated from Loba’s body beneath you in a constant wave of gentle, comforting heat but your focus wasn’t on her right now.

The moment his mouth made contact with your core, your body went lax. His tongue came right after and your back arched with such ferocity that Loba almost lost her hold on you. When the most desperate noise left you, you felt the vibrations of his laughter roll through you and his hands gripped the tops of your thighs more firmly to keep you in place. His eyes flickered up to you for a moment, soon after your hands found his hair, tugging lightly on the damp ends in an attempt to have him closer.

Loba’s lips ghosted over the shell of your ear “I know you said he was good but you really weren’t kidding,” she whispered before her mouth before she latched her lips back onto your neck.

Tugging his hair seemed to only spur him on more as the groan he emitted was borderline feral, bringing his tongue to circle over your clit at such a pace that the pressure built within you to the point where you were about to burst and likely would have had to not pulled back for a second to quickly catch his breath and get a better look at you.

“I know you want to come on his tongue, beautiful. Go on.” Crypto was back between your legs then, doubling his pace. “Come for us.” She whispered just as Crypto decided to wrap his lips around your clit and suck. You lurched upright, grip tight on his hair as you grind your pussy against his lips. When he slowly coated one of his fingers before slowly pressing it into you and pumping to the rhythm of his mouth, that was it for you.

Your body barely felt like you controlled its movement anymore as pleasure wracked its way through you in gushing waves. A drawn-out moan you’d probably be embarrassed about later escaped you as you went limp in Loba’s arms. Crypto helped you ride it out, wanting to make you feel the best he could. His tongue didn’t leave you until your pussy ceased its tensing then releasing around his finger, pulling it out of you and to his lips immediately. Loba’s arms kept you steady as your body slowly returned to normal, cold air stinging as Crypto left you. You missed his mouth and hands on you immediately but Loba was quick to distract you by helping you rid yourself of your shirt all whilst trying to keep her lips latched on to yours. Her fingers so swift in how they undressed you and herself that you were suddenly reminded that she was a thief, quick hand movements were her speciality. Her hand came to cup your bare breast for a moment, glee in her eyes at the sight. Once you helped her out of most of her clothes, you felt Crypto’s lips on the side of your neck. His mouth leaving marks no doubt right beside the ones Loba had made already. A hand in his hair again had him whimpering. Loba noticed and released you so you turned to face him, your mouth finding his as you stood on shaky legs. His lips were swollen but still soft. He kisses you like it was the last time he would have the chance, one hand gently cupping your face as his other arm wrapped around you.

“I’m going to let you two have this round.” You pulled back from Crypto and looked at her with confusion, she hadn’t even had any kind of pleasure yet and she still insisted you and Crypto go ahead. “I like to watch.” She clarified with a smirk, seating herself in your desk chair, legs folded neatly over one another. Her lacy black bra and panties somehow made her even more attractive but comply with her wishes you would. Plus you wanted the chance to repay Crypto for his services.

Soon enough, Crypto is stripped of all but his boxers, seated upright at the edge of your bed and facing Loba’s general direction. Running your finger over his cheekbone, you look down to notice just how hard he is. “You like eating me out that much, huh?” You asked as you swung one leg over both of his and knelt so you could grind against him, wringing your arms around his neck. You felt just how hard he was then and Crypto looked like he might have came if you weren’t careful, his mouth opened slightly, eyes closed. His hands found the bottom of your back to keep you steady as you slowly grinded onto him, feeling the hard outline of him pressing against your sensitive lips. “예수 그리스도'' He moaned at the feeling, bottom lip now trapped between his teeth.

“Really wanna ride you.” You told him and his eyes snapped open, hand gently cupping your cheek as he brought you in for another kiss.

“Then ride me.”

You sat back from him to run your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling it twitch with your touch. Soft moans fell from his mouth with each drawn-out stroke, he was so terribly sensitive. Tentatively tugging down his boxers, you freed his member from its confines and rubbed along the shaft before thumbing its tip. His throat hitched.

“If you keep touching me like that, this is going to be over a lot quicker than either of us could have hoped,” His hand found your bare pussy again, fingers gliding through your folds to make sure you were still wet enough to take him, “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Leaning further forward so your hips rested against his, bracing against his strong chest for support, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m ready.” You told him. Without a word, Crypto reached down and aligned the two of you before oh-so-slowly lowering you back down onto his lap, feeling his length buried within you to the hilt.

You moaned together when he filled you, Crypto burying his head in your shoulder when you began to move, his hips rocking to meet the rhythm of yours. It felt delicious, his length rubbed your walls in all the right places and you felt a pressure begin to build quickly within your stomach again. His moans were so soft you almost had to strain to hear him but his strong grip on your hips as you swayed atop him telling enough.

Looking over your shoulder for a moment, you saw Loba lazily rubbing herself through her underwear, her eyes utterly transfixed on you and Crypto. One particularly measured thrust on his part hit your most sensitive spot directly and had your attention turned all the way back to him immediately. Gripping his hair as you rode him, you felt the pressure of his teeth on your shoulder as he bit back a moan. You slowed your pace and tilted his face up to see yours.

“Be as loud as you want baby, we wanna hear you,” you assured him and he looked at you through half-lidded eyes, skin flushed and lips bitten. You felt his cock twitch inside of you.

Pulling you back towards him so you were flesh to flesh, his hips snapped up into you with renewed vigour as his lips found your neck. Right next to another small mark Loba had left not a few moments earlier, he tentatively suckled on your skin until it bloomed. He swore he wasn’t a jealous person, he just wanted things to be even. His lips slowly trailed down towards your chest until he found one of your breasts, ready and waiting for him.

You let your head fall back. His consistent pumping up into you, filling you over and over and his tongue on your nipple combined with the knowledge that Loba was watching and enjoying all of this was quickly becoming too much for you to handle. You felt his cock twitch within you again.

You cupped his face in your hands as you brought him away from your nipple to press his swollen lips to yours again. That was when he reached between you and let his fingers trail over you clit. A cry escaped you. You were reaching the point of overstimulation and it felt like heaven.

When his thrusts became distractingly fast, you had to leave his lips but still held his face in your hands. “Come for me baby,” you told him and he felt his mind going numb. A few more thrusts and he was spent, all low moans and mumbles as he buried his face in your chest. His warm release within you felt so good, coating your walls and making you feel so wonderfully full. The coil in your stomach was wound, near the point of breaking now, but it wasn’t enough for you to reach your peak.

You just held each other for a few moments, petting over his hair as you relaxed in his arms. Even though you hadn’t come a second time that didn’t matter all that much when he still managed to make you feel as good as he did. When he caught his breath he looked up at you and frowned, “You didn’t-“

Loba was quick to interrupt him. She was up from her chair and walking towards you the moment you had regulated your breathing, “I’ll take care of that, pretty boy. Go take a minute.” With one last kiss and a groan as he pulled out of you, he reluctantly lifted you off his lap and sat you gently on your bed. He usually held you for hours after sex so this was new for him but just as he was learning to trust, he was also learning to compromise.

Loba bent down beside you as Crypto got up from your bed, tilting your chin upwards with her fingertip. “Ooh what a mess he made, hmm? Guess I had better help you clean up.” You were already oh so sensitive but your release was building again, all worked up from Crypto’s cock but surely going to be finished by Loba’s fingers.

Her touch was so different to Crypto’s, so delicate yet precise. She Plucked your body as if you were a harp, and she was a harpist with the most experienced hands. Her hands trailed over your shoulders and your chest, a nipple pinched and pressed deliciously between her fingers. With a few strange movements of your legs, Loba manoeuvres you by your hips, weaving your legs together. She draws her fingers up the underside of your thigh then down your lower leg, teasingly with a wicked grin plastered across her face as she does.

Loba scoots you closer together, her hands exploring your thighs as she goes, until you’re so close to her that you can feel the heat of her pussy against your own. She pulls you in for a kiss again and you take a handful of her full breasts. Loba rocks forward suddenly, rubbing your dripping cores together. She was most definitely keeping herself busy whilst you were with Crypto because she was soaking. Your pussy was so sensitive, so worked-up again that even the slightest touch had you reeling. Another slow grind and Loba’s eyes flutter closed. A twist of your thighs and you were fully locked together, her core providing yours with a delicious pressure. With a groan, Loba favoured a rougher rolling motion, her nails clawing at your thighs as your clits rub together.

“Shit!” Loba cries and her hips jerk into yours more sloppily. It was rare to see her so needy. The pressure from her clit on yours and the way her face contorted in pure pleasure had your insides twisting until you felt the dam burst for the second time that night. You found her lips again as you felt her too reach her release soon after, panting between kisses and cursing. Her movements slowed, as did your own until you were faced with the task of untangling from one another. “Guess we were pretty worked up, huh?” She asks and you nod in agreement, “You still have another round left in you? Pizza guy won’t be here for another twenty minutes…”

You were exhausted, dripping wet and still trying to catch your breath but you still managed to stifle out another “Yes, please.” You couldn’t get enough of them and you were dying to have them both at once. You felt more than just lust for these two. They made you feel loved, feel safe. All three of you had issues with connecting to people, whether it was simple distrust or even trauma but you were lucky enough to find one another. All the time spent with them trying to take down the Syndicate made Loba and Crypto learn to trust other people again. Not only that, they learned to care for you and in-turn allowed you to care for them. And being cared for wasn’t something either of them imagined would happen any time soon. Your tenderness and love made them feel human again like they were more than just their past.

“What do you think? Up for round three?” You looked to Taejoon and saw him sitting where Loba had been. When he moved one of his hands away from his lap to smooth his hair back from his face, you saw his cock was already erect again.

His chest heaved. “Are you sure you can take any more,애인(lover)?” Sitting up on your elbows now you looked at him and then to Loba who lay beside you, trailing her smooth fingertips up and down your arms. Excitement bubbled within you again.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

They were both beside you in an instant. You weren’t sure who was touching where and frankly you couldn’t care less. Feeling both their bodies on yours at once felt amazing, your skin tingling all over as you knelt sandwiched between them. Despite your oversensitivity, you welcomed the metallic fingertips that found your folds again. You were so, helplessly wet. Your multiple releases, coupled with Loba and Crypto’s had your thighs and sheets a mess. The cold metal of Crypto’s fingers were a wonderful contrast to the warmth of your pussy as he trailed along, up and down your lips, purposely avoiding where you wanted him to touch.

He left your lips in favour of hooking a finger inside you again. The friction was welcome but it wasn’t enough. “Please!” You whimpered and you heard Loba chuckle.

“Oh, baby girl, are you eager for his cock again? It’s a shame we aren’t at my place, you could’ve had mine as well.” Crypto raised a brow at that. You just whined at the thought of Loba’s strap.

He hummed as he found your clit with his thumb as he continued to draw his finger in and out of you. “Crypto, please!”

“I think you should tell him what you want him to do, sweetheart.”

“Please fuck me. I-I need-” You cut yourself off with a moan of his name and Crypto thought he might just die. He leant down to kiss your lips, rougher than usual now but still gentle. When he pulled back from you and gave you a chance to lay back, he had his dick in his hand and took his sweet time coating the tip in your juices, slowly dragging it through your folds.

“Ready for me?” he asked and you nodded. He tugged your knees around his hips and he leant between your legs and slowly entered you, inch by inch until you felt that wonderful fullness again. He let out a shaky breath and a gasp as he entered you. You felt so warm, so soft and so unmistakably you that he had a hard time moving for a moment for fear he might lose composure too soon and leave you disappointed for a second time. When you gave him the okay to move, Loba began teasing your breasts again, but you had other ideas for her.

“Sit-” A particularly drawn-out thrust from Crypto had your words misforming, “-On my face?” you asked her. Seeing as how Loba hadn’t garnered all that much from tonight’s proceedings, you were eager to make her feel good.

Her lips twisted into a smirk as she drew back from your chest, “Oh, sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.” Crypto slowed his movements to let you two get comfortable. Loba now knelt beside your head, swung one leg over your head as you lay flat upon the bed so she now kneeled directly above you. It was the perfect access point. None of the pressure was on you, only what you wanted there to be.

Pulling her down by the hips until her core ghosted so close to your lips that your exhale made her shiver, you made sure you had a good enough grip on her even if all her weight was on your mattress. Crypto took Loba’s chin aiming for the heavens as his queue that you were comfortable again and started back at a slow pace. He always liked to alternate between almost teasingly slow, slow enough that you got needy when he pulled fully out of you, before you the exact pace that you needed from him.

Loba tried not to grind against your face but your actions did nothing to deter her from it. She was extremely responsive to any stimulation she received and your tongue was right up there as one of her favourite ways to be pleasured. Your strokes were careful, teasing and just how she liked it. Although your body jerked forward with each thrust from Crypto, Loba didn’t seem to mind and simply rocked her hips along your face in time with his movements. Each time he pulled back out of you only to fully sheath himself inside you again, a small gasp or moan escaped you. The vibrations just made Loba’s experience even better, small rhythmic cries falling from her lips.

When you felt Crypto’s fingers on your mound again, you had to lift Loba off you slightly to breathe. He always knew exactly where and how to touch you and even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear his soft laugh at the sound you made when he circled your clit. The feeling of being filled over and over by his thick member was divine in and of itself, his girth allowed him to rub your walls with ease especially at the angle he had you in now. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he kept your lower half-raised slightly off the bed. But combined with his hands? It was difficult to concentrate on anything but.

The more you got distracted by Crypto, the needier Loba became, jerking her hips in tiny thrusts to enable some kind of friction. Your fingers dimpled the backs of her thighs to keep her in place as you tried to make up for your few distracted moments. She was getting close now, you could feel it. The poor woman wasn’t used to actually being on the receiving end of such things until she met you.

“I think I’m going to come,” Crypto said with a sharp intake of breath, followed by a barely spoken curse.

“Me too.” She whined, “Pick up the pace, Hacker.” She leant back on her heels to the point where she was nearly sitting on your chest now, a hand in your hair and the other keeping herself steady. Unable to tear her eyes away from your face as you worked on her, an intense ripple of pleasure rushed through her when your eyes met hers. As you tugged her clit back between your lips and sucked all whilst flicking it with your tongue over and over, she was done for. Her head dropped back and her hands now gripped your head with all her desperate strength as she cried a far louder noise than you had ever heard from her before. Her release fell from her entrance right onto your wait tongue, making sure to keep up the intensity until you felt her body relax within your arms.

“Shit!” Crypto cursed and you felt his cock again twitch within you as Loba rolled off to your side, “Are you close?” He asked, voice strained and breathless.

“Yes!” Now that Loba was off of you, you were free to reach forward and cling to him, nails digging into the back of his shoulders and dragging him back down onto the bed with you. With the new angle, his cock hit right where you needed it, the tip brushing over your g-spot over and over as his hand continued to work on your clit. You were almost there now, he could feel it. You felt so good, clenching and releasing around him as a new rush of moisture left you. Loba decided at that moment that sucking one of your nipples into her mouth was a good idea. Suffice to say: It was and it very nearly finished you off. You looked up at them above you, their focus solely on you as they worked and shaped your flesh to bring you the most pleasure they could.

It was only when Crypto leaned in to kiss you that you finally came for the third time that night. Neither he nor Loba ceased their efforts until your orgasm fully ceased. Wave upon wave of glorious pleasure washed over you. Your release was enough for Crypto to come again too, his face buried in your neck as he whimpered. Your oversensitive walls welcomed the sensation of him filling you again.

Loba collapsed at your side and Crypto basically flattened out on top of you before realising that maybe wasn’t the best idea and rolling off of you. Their hands were still on you. Gentle, loving caresses as you caught your breath and fully came down from your high. Your skin still pleasantly tingled from their touch, small shivers still coursing through from your orgasm. All three of you were spent and thoroughly satisfied.

Your muscles still felt soft but you knew you would be sore in the morning. All you wanted to do right now was to lay with them. Feel their arms around you and them in yours. Have Loba hold you from behind whilst Crypto buried his face in your shoulder and clung to you like a Koala bear. You just wanted to drift off in their arms.

But then the doorbell decided it was going to ring.

Crypto moved to get it but Loba stopped him. “No no no, you go to the bathroom. I’ll get it.” Before pulling Crypto’s shirt over her head again and attempting to fix her hair, she covered you with your sheets, a wad of cash in her hand ready for the delivery driver. She looked adorable in such a long t-shirt, so long it came to her mid-thighs. A plain black t-shirt with no shape and clearly sex-tousled hair yet she still looked like she belonged in a magazine.

“Pizza’s finally here!” She exclaimed, kicking the door shut behind her, a large flat box in her hand. Her other hand was empty and the massive bundle of cash was nowhere to be found.

“How much was the pizza, Loba?”

She shrugged as she set the box down atop your covers, “No idea, you know I like to tip big!” Crypto returned from the bathroom, wearing only his pair of sweatpants you had given Loba earlier, “Off you go, your turn.” She nodded towards the bathroom. She was very responsible when it came to after sex. As much as you wanted to sleep afterwards, she was always adamant you go clean yourself up first. It was one of her rare ways of showing how much she cared.

When you were finished, you toddled out of the bathroom and back towards your bed, feeling decidedly underdressed before Taejoon noticed you rummaging for something comfortable and tossed you the very shirt he was wearing that day, with a smile. That left none for him but he didn’t seem to mind. As you pulled the fabric over your head, you couldn’t help but inhale his scent that lingered.

The three of you sat on your bed in relative silence, eating the lukewarm pizza until your hunger ceased. For once, Crypto was the first to interrupt the silence when he left the bed to check up on the decryption status, “Another nine hours until the decryption is complete”.

Loba yawned, both from tiredness and at the thought of waiting nine hours for anything, “Well, in that case, we had better get comfortable.” She took the empty pizza box from your bed and discarded it by your desk.

After gathering up all the courage your tired brain could muster, “So… what do you say you guys both sleep here tonight?” You asked. Crypto was already stretched out at your back, his arms wrapping around you and his warmth seeping into you when he said, “No, I think we should awkwardly go back to our own rooms and talk in the morning.” You scoffed, knowing he was joking, he took every given opportunity to have you in his arms.

Loba stood at the edge of your bed like she was actually considering what he said to be something other than sarcasm. She rarely stayed with you after sex. Even in her own apartment, she would place a kiss on your temple then leave no doubt to pull some kind of heist. It was almost like she was afraid to get too attached to you like someone might take her from you as well as everyone else she had ever loved. But now, as she looked at you, your eyes all soft all and pleading, she thought back to only a few hours ago in the medbay when you fretted over Crypto and had told her you would do the same for her. She realised she could more than just meaningless material things and vengeance. She finally felt like she deserved more.

She sighed, “Well, alright. Not like I’m doing anything else tonight.” And so she clambered beneath the covers and into your open arms. “Have we done enough to satisfy?” She asked and you couldn’t help but laugh. Your legs were already beginning to ache and your entire body felt like each nerve ending and been caressed.

“Just being able to spend time with you both is already enough,” Her hand came to cup your cheek, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You felt Crypto place a kiss on the top of your head as he allowed himself to relax a little more, his body near-painted onto the back of yours, “But yes, thoroughly. You’re both so wonderful that I never really thought to stop and wonder what it would be like to have you together and it was better than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“Oh sweetheart, you do so much more for us than we could ever hope to repay.” She pecked your check.

“More than we deserve.”

“That’s not true, Ta-” you cut yourself off, “That’s not true. You shouldn’t have to worry about the Syndicate or Revenant trying to take you out every ten minutes. You deserve to be happy and safe a-and loved. As long as I’m around, I’ll do my best to make sure you feel that way. Because I know that’s not something neither of you have had in a very long time.”

Taejoon tightened his arms around you, holding you closer to his chest. He placed one hand over yours as you rested it on Loba’s side, his fingers interlocking with yours. That meant so much more to him than he would ever let on in front of Loba. Meanwhile, you could see the water pooling in the corners of her eyes as she looked at you so endearingly. She brought her lips to yours for a moment, in the softest kiss you’d ever felt from her before she nuzzled her nose into your cheek.

Sandwiched between them in a mess of warm and tangled limbs, you felt safe and for once, they did too. Loba was the first to drift off to sleep, her grip on you going lax as her breath evened. You felt Crypto shift behind you slightly, his arm beneath you no doubt beginning to go numb.

“It’s alright, you can rest. We’ll still be here when you wake up.” He whispered, voice as soft as he could make it.

And so you did. With Loba sound asleep in your arms and Taejoon wrapping you up in his, you let your tired limbs melt into the soft mattress below and your heavy eyelids close for the night.

Tagging (Thank you for liking/ rbing that post to be tagged :D ): @kumiakum @dragon-chica @lonelyintheclub @wintergirlsoilder2 @itsthedoctah10 @quinn-lee @askloba @julestheengineer1 @smolminimonnie @peachymochimochi @korean-crypted-trash @speakinjapanese @lilacburned @bring-me-the-videogames (If you’d like to be untagged, please let me know!)

#crypto x reader #loba x reader #loba x reader x crypto #loba andrade #apex crypto #taejoon park #apex loba #loba #my writing #smut #apex legends #apex lemons

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seokmingiggles · 4 years ago

Text

english breakfast.

Prompt: "You never cease to amaze me."

Pairing: Boo Seungkwan x gender neutral reader (technically, the original one-shot this drabble comes from has a female reader)

Genre: fluff, established relationship, post-apocalyptic!au (a drabble from my IWYMH universe).

1.14k words

Warnings: a quick mention of making out, a very brief allusion to a deceased friend of the reader (from the original one-shot; it is not described here).

You and your boyfriend reminisce about some of the times you’ve had throughout your year spent together. Particularly about when you first fell for each other.

Alternatively, when you unexpectedly met Seungkwan on that fateful winter day continues to hold a special place in your heart.

A/N: I wanted to revisit the universe of the fic I wrote that kind of changed everything for me (alright, that sounds much more dramatic than it is). It was while I was creating IWYMH just over a month ago that I realized I wanted to start posting my writing online again for the first time in years. It reminded me how much I love creative writing and also how much I missed it.

By no means do you have to read the original for this one to make sense! Especially since it's over 10k words, and this barely surpasses 1k. If by chance you have read the original, this drabble takes place just before it begins.

Back to the teacup masterlist.

•• "You never cease to amaze me, love," you say with a smile as Seungkwan provides you with your favourite mug, the smell of the tea flooding your senses.

"It's just a cup of tea, (Y/N), calm down."

"But you're the one who made it," you sing as he shakes his head with a smile. You change the subject out of courtesy of his burning ears, "What has to get done today?"

Seungkwan returns next to you on the living room floor with his own cup of tea, gingerly taking a sip from the steaming beverage. "Today's another run into the city. We're in search of medical equipment and toiletries primarily."

"We're?"

"Yeah, that's right, it's you and me today," your boyfriend beams and pokes your smiling cheek. "It means that I won't have to worry about you heading out with Junhui or Taehyung again. Instead, I'll be able to look out for you."

"Right, because I need to be looked after," you playfully roll your eyes. "That better not be code for making out in the back of a car or something."

"Who's to say?" Seungkwan asks lightly, feigning ignorance.

You shake your head at his words, but a smile still prominent on your face and cheeks becoming rosy at the thought of sneaking off with your boyfriend.

You trace your thumb over the steaming mug of tea, basking in the silence next to Seungkwan.

"Hey," he says with a soft voice, "do you remember before we began dating? I would make you cups of tea then, and we would sit here," he gestures to the couch beside you, "or outside on the balcony when the weather was warm enough."

"Yes, of course, I remember." You beam at thinking back to last year when you first began to bond with Seungkwan more upon arriving at the cabin.

"Well, it's been a year."

You lift your gaze to look at the boy. Slightly caught off guard, your expression reflects the newness of the information.

"Has it already? Gosh, that went by fast." Your head tilts in disbelief. "I'm sorry I didn't remember. I'm not the best at remembering dates—well, except for…" your words trail off, thinking about your childhood friend you lost, likewise last year.

"You don't have to say it, I know," Seungkwan reassures you. His hand lifts to your back, pulling you in for a side-hug, careful to not spill the hot drink you're holding, nor knocking his over where it's resting on the floor.

You lean your head onto his shoulder as you focus on the small circles he rubs between your shoulder blades. The teacup you're holding warms your hands while the kiss Seungkwan places on the top of your head warms your heart.

"Do you want to know the first time I realized I had a crush on you?"

As he processes your words, Seungkwan's hand stops moving momentarily, until he replies, "Only if I can give my answer after, too. About you."

"Okay," you smile, shifting slightly in your boyfriend's embrace to find optimum comfort. "It was one of the nights we spent talking until dawn on the balcony."

"You'll have to be more specific, love," you can hear the smile evident in Seungkwan's voice. "We've spent a lot of nights talking outside."

You giggle, "You're right. We tend to do that a lot, don't we?" You take a sip of the tea that's now cooled to a pleasant temperature. "It couldn't have been much longer than a month after I arrived. You were comforting me about—well, about a lot of things, but one thing that stuck with me was how you reminded me that life continues." You slowly pull yourself from Seungkwan's hold to look at him, "You reminded me that life continues even through difficult times."

"That's when you began falling for me?"

"That's all you got from that?" you lightly quip back but continue, "Time heals; you weren't the one who first taught me that, but you're certainly the one who proved it for me. This past year—this time with you—it's been healing."

"And I wouldn't change a thing," Seungkwan says in a hushed tone.

He leans in to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, then your lips. A habitual smile breaks out onto your face at the gesture.

"Now, do you want to know the first time I realized I was screwed?"

"You make it sound like falling for me was a bad thing."

"No, definitely not a bad thing," Seungkwan reassures you, "'I was screwed' in an 'Oh, well, I guess this is who my heart belongs to now,' kind of way."

You furrow your eyebrows, yet a grin remains evident on your face. "You're not making it sound very romantic, love."

"Anyways," the boy presses on, "it was none other than the day of your arrival when I first saw you wearing my sweatshirt."

"Oh, come on," you lightly push his shoulder. "You better not say it was love at first sight."

"It was love at first sight."

"Boo Seungkwan, I swear to–"

"Okay, maybe not love at first sight, but seriously, that was the moment I knew you were someone special. And you are someone special, I was right."

"What you are is cheesy," your head finds its spot on the boy's shoulder again.

"You're the one who brought the topic up in the first place, (Y/N). And besides," Seungkwan's nose nuzzles the top of your head, "you love me, I'm allowed to be cheesy."

You mumble something along the lines of him being right but drown your words in your cup of tea.

"Time to head out," you hear Wheein call from the doorway.

Your boyfriend stands first. "Time to head out," he repeats.

You nod and take Seungkwan's hand he holds out for you to help you up.

You deposit the ceramic cups in the kitchen before slipping on your boots and a light jacket. Seungkwan grabs a backpack after putting on his shoes and holds out a second bag for you to take.

Once Minghao comes to the porch to meet you all, the four of you begin the trek to head out into town.

Seungkwan's hand finds yours, fingers lacing in a comforting clasp. Your gaze lifts to meet his; you're both bearing gentle smiles at the simple act of affection.

Behind Seungkwan's head, you catch the familiar glimpse of his sweater—clean and drying on the clothesline strung between the house and a neighbouring tree. It slightly sways in the gentle spring breeze between the mix of the other clothes hanging to dry. That sweater has been your favourite article to wear since the day you unexpectedly arrived at this refuge, and you don't anticipate that to change anytime soon; likewise, your feelings about the boy whose hand fits perfectly in yours.

••

#caratwritersclub #boo seungkwan #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan fluff #boo seungkwan imagine #seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagine #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen seungkwan

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delaneytveit · 4 years ago

Text

Like the Ocean

its Lance’s birthday!! Here’s a little fic I literally thought of while trying to sleep last night! I hope you guys like it!

“So these things-”

“Relics, Lance.” Pidge corrected him again.

“Yeah, those. What exactly makes them so important? And why do we have to get them now?”

Allura sighed, obviously annoyed at Lance’s reluctance to join the mission. Why couldn’t he just do as he’s told for once?

“You were the one that felt so insecure about your place on the team.” She didn’t mean for it come out as harshly as it did, and it caused her to wince though she knew she had to continue. “To obtain these relics, each of you must undergo the Trials of the Paladins. If you succeed, you return with the relic. If you don't...”

“We don’t return, do we?” Of everyone on the team, it was clear that Lance was to one who most wanted to return home, and it broke her heart to think that she was the one keeping him from that. But she also knew that he had to be strong. Only the strongest may be a paladin, and if a little homesickness was going to keep Lance from being the Blue Paladin, then he shouldn’t have been chosen in the first place.

Her silence seemed to answer his question, as he didn’t push anymore.

“I have the utmost confidence that you will all return.” She spoke finally, and though shaken, Lance sat up straight and attentive. He could do this, she thought.

The next varga was spent in preparation, briefing each of the paladins on where they would be landing to reach their respective trial. She could not give them their actual task, for she didn’t know. It was part of the Trials that only the Paladin participating would be aware of their task. Soon the Paladins were on their way to their respective planets.

To say that Lance was concerned was well, and understatement. He knew the importance of this mission, despite what Pidge and Keith may say, he did take it seriously. But he couldn’t get the idea out of his head that he may not even be the true Blue Paladin.

He had spent many late nights wondering why Blue had chosen him, wondering why him, out of everyone else, and wondering if he really was just a temp until someone more worthy came around.

After all, he was only a cargo pilot.

Despite Blue’s constant reassurances flooding his mind, that he could in fact do this, he wasn’t completely convinced. There was however one thing he knew for certain, he would give his life for his team. He would complete this mission for them.

The planet he landed on was definitely not what he expected. A lush green planet with rivers and springs that created the most intricate pattern in the ground. It was beautiful.

He followed the tracker to a clearing on the planet, just past a grove of what looked like orange trees, if it wasn’t for the weird pastel blue of the fruits. In the middle of the clearing sat the only evidence of non flora inhabitants. A large stone building surrounded by a courtyard of mosaic - like marble. It was beautiful really.

He circled around it and landed Blue just on the outskirts of the clearing.

“Okay Lance, you got this.” He took a finally steadying breath before standing up from his pilot chair and made his way out of the cockpit and out of Blue.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped foot on the planet, was the florally scent in the barely their breeze. It smelled of roses and jasmine and honey. He took his time enjoying the scents as he made his way to the building, that as he approached he realized looked more like a temple.

An alien, with long dark purple hair and bright pink skin met Lance at the steps to the temple. Any other situation, Lance wouldn’t have hesitated a pick up line, or even a suggestive joke towards the being, they were honestly breath taking. Contrary to popular belief, he knew quite well that there was a time and place for such a thing, and this was neither the time, nor place.

“Blue Paladin, Welcome. We have been expecting you for many Deca-Phobes.” They spoke, their voice soft but he could tell there was a haste to it. “Follow me.”

He did, he followed the guide deep into the temple before stopping in front of a large stone door.

He watched as the guide knocked twice on the door before a voice called out from the other side for them to enter.

When he entered, he was immediately surrounded by a group of aliens that looked almost identical to his guide. He was so caught up in the surprise that he hadn’t had time to fully comprehend that they were stripping him of his armor until he was left in nothing but his underarmor.

“Wha-”

“You have no need for that here.” the voice came from behind him, he turned to see a figure dressed in the brightest colours, hair a silver grey, and skin a dark blue. Save for those variations, he could tell that this one was of the same species as the others. “This is a place of peace and reflection, Blue Paladin, Guardian of the Water.”

He let them lead him to another room, perfumed with incense that reminded him of the jasmine he had smelled outside. He let them undress him before entering the steaming bath that stood before him. He let them dress him in their silks as this was not the place for armor, he must be at his most comfortable for the trials.

Despite how easy it was to do all of this, how much he enjoyed the pampering and relaxation, he knew that the trials would never be this easy. He was right when the original guide handed him a cup of tea. They had led him into yet another room, this one empty except for a stone slab in the middle of the room.

“Your trial to to enter Krywon and fill this vial with the water of the Alkori, the most sacred river.”

“Seems simple enough.” He did as instructed and sat on the slab of stone, a plush blue pillow at the head of it.

“It would be dangerous to think so. Krywon is in your language, The Land of the Dead. only the dead may enter.”

Lance felt all the air release from his lungs, so this was it then. He looked towards the tea that was being placed in his hand.

“So this then, it will...”

“Kill you? Yes, it will be quick and painless. Almost like falling asleep. However, the properties will only have their desired effect if you drink willingly. If say one were to force it onto you, you would be stripped of any chance of returning to the land of the living.”

Lance nodded before looking back up at the guide. “And how exactly do I return?”

The guide gave him a small smile before placing a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“That you must find for yourself Blue Paladin.”

They stood back and looked at him expectantly.

Lance stared at the light Carmel color of the liquid, at the steam coming from it. I can do this. And so, like in the cockpit of the Blue Lion, he took a final steadying breath. Before he could hesitate he emptied the cup into his mouth, and swallowed. The bitter taste of the liquid overpowered the burning sensation on his tongue.

“See you on the other side.” he gave the guide a small smile, which they returned as they helped guide his already lethargic body down to a laying position.

His eyes were getting heavy and his breathing slower, he was sure that in any other situation he would have begun panicking, but here he would not. He could not. And so with a smile on his face, he looked to the skylight and let the rays of this foreign sun wash over him.

“You will do great things, Blue Paladin.”

The sound of the guide’s encouragement was the last that he heard before he finally closed his eyes.

As with everything, Lance was the last to return. The others having already eaten dinner by the time he finally made his way into the Blue Lion’s Hangar.

“Lance!” Pidge yelled barreling straight for him the second his feet touched the floor of the hangar. “Where were you?”

Lance laughed hugging her back, Hunk making his way over to the two with tears in his eyes. “We thought something happened to you.”

Shiro suggested that they move to the lounge so everyone could relax and hear of Lance’s trial.

Lance listened as the others told their stories first, a bowl of food goo in hand that he shoveled into his mouth.

He heard of Keith, who was forced to climb to the tallest point on an actively exploding volcano. His quest to retrieve a singular rock, still hot from the magma but cold to the touch, the markings of the Red Paladin engraved by the lava.

He listened as Hunk told his story of his journey into the deepest cave on his planet to relieve a crystal. He joined in the laughter at Hunk’s description of his fight with the giant insects that inhabited the cave.

Pidge spoke of her trip through a dense rainforest to retrieve the rarest flower that existed on that planet. Apparently only one blooms every 20 deca-phobes.

Shiro’s was the scariest tale. The thought of having to travel to the highest peak on a planet and attempt to catch lightning in a bottle shook Lance to his core.

“So what about you, Lance?” Hunk was all too excited to hear about his friend’s trial.

Lance sat for a moment, deciding where he should start the story. The beginning is as good of a place as ever.

“Wait wait wait... you mean to tell me that while the rest of us were hauling ass through dangerous territory, you were getting...pampered?” Pidge was beyond belief, no wonder this guy took so long, he probably took a damn nap and forgot he had places to be.

Lance chuckled at that. “Yeah I guess, my trial was to retrieve this.” He held up the small vial of the swirling liquid. It still looked the way it did in the river, pastel blue and sparkling with minerals.

He let the team gape at the liquid, it was beautiful. It took a bit for even Allura to calm down.

“No, but really Lance, how did you get it?” Shiro knew there had to be more to the story than Lance just sitting on his ass.

“He probably just walked outside, you heard him, there were rivers all over the place.” Keith scoffed, getting over his initial amazement.

“The water inside, it's from this specific river. I guess it's like their most sacred of whatever.” Lance sighed, there was no way to truly convey the importance of the water without showing them the source. An action he refused to even debate. “Its called the Alkori.”

“Did you have to go through a dangerous forest?” Pidge asked.

“Or a cave?” Hunk piped up.

Lance laughs, but there’s an unease that can’t be hidden.

“No, the Alkori...it doesn’t exist in this...world.”

“What do you mean in this world? Where is it? Did you go to another alternate reality?” Pidge was practically bouncing up and down in her seat as she rambled. She only stopped when she realized the length of silence that came from her friend.

“Lance?”

Lance looked up from his hunched shoulders, wiping the tears that threatened to run from his eyes.

“Lance, where was it?” Shiro placed a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder, clearly something was bothering him to make him act such a way. And Shiro was way past concerned.

“...the afterlife.”

Keith laughed at that, a hearty chuckle before realizing that he was the only one. “The afterlife? Really? And what, you just walked right in there?” he spoke, quick to compose himself.

He watched as Lance shook his head, “No living being is allowed to cross into Krywon. The land belongs solely to the dead, only the dead may enter.”

“...so how did you get there? Or did you get a ghost to do your bidding?” Hunk half joked. He didn’t like where this was going. His friend, his very much alive friend was sitting right next to him. Clearly he had something up his sleeve to get the vial. Clearly he couldn’t enter, he was alive.

“Only the dead may enter.” Lance spoke softly, almost a whisper. “So I had to become one of them.”

The room was quiet, no one believing what they were hearing. Even the mice had stopped their squeaking, looks of concern pointed towards the Blue Paladin.

“They gave me this tea,” he continued, “God, it tasted horrible, like microwaved pedialite. But it was effective.”

The silence was deafening, it reminded him all too much of his time spent among the dead. If the quiet scared him before, now...it was terrifying.

“20 minutes.” he stopped, taking a shaky breath. “You could say that I was legally gone for 20 minutes. But God, it felt like hours, days even. I wasn’t sure if there would even be anything left for me to return to if I did come back.”

“...you...you died?” Hunk stared at his best friend through blurry eyes. The man he’s known since they were seven. The kid that even despite his bad days always seemed so alive.

Lance nods, taking another shaky breath. He refused to lift his head again, refused to let them know that he almost gave up, that he couldn’t even last 20 minutes being dead, when others spent eternity.

He was alive, now.

He was here, now.

He did not let his team down.

“It was the only way.”

He kept his eyes on the bottle held in his hands, the swirling hues of blue and grey that he had literally given his life for.

“When I was there, I met this woman, I guess you could say we kind of have like a cult following now.” He waited for the tell tale laughs or eye rolls from his friends, but received nothing, all of them much too focused to the fact that their friend had entered a world the only way he could. “She made me realize what it actually means to be the Blue Paladin. Why blue chose me in the first place.” He let his voice taper off as he remembered her. The sad girl who saved his life though he couldn’t save hers.

“That’s right!” Pidge all but yelled, startling the entire room. “We never got to hear about what qualities the Blue Paladin has, because Lance-”

“couldn’t keep his mouth shut? Yeah. I know it now. At first I thought she was fucking with me, but the more I thought about it, about you guys. It actually made sense.”

“Blue Paladin, Guardian of water, flexible in both mind and body, adaptable-”

“calm like the streams, playful like the tides, yet relentless like the waves. With a loyalty that knows no bounds,” Allura rose to her feet and took the few step towards Lance before kneeling in front of him, her hand pushing his face up gently so sea blue eyes met galaxy magenta ones. “This paladin brings balance, and steadiness to Voltron.”

Lance reciprocated her smile, before bringing his hand up to meet hers and puling it away from his face. He placed the small vial in her hand, “You missed one.”

Confusion filled her as she tilted her head, “No I don’t think I did, those are-”

“With a protectiveness that will be the death of him.” Lance spoke carefully.

Lance was surprised when Allura reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, Hunk and Shiro were quick to follow, and soon, everyone was surrounding Lance in a tight embrace. He almost couldn’t hear Coran over the layers of bodies circling him.

“Protect as you may, Lance, but stay alive. That would be enough for all of us.”

#happy birthday lance #wow this was a long one #hope y'all like it #It took me so long to write #I genuinely thought about breaking it up into parts #but I didn't because I couldn't really find a good spot to cut it #I love two blue bois and lance is one of them #langst #yeah I'll put this as langst #purely for the feels though #nothing bad happens to my boi #besides death #but its fine #its only temporary #It builds character lance I promise #vld lance #lance serrano #Voltron lives in my mind rent free

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

Starstruck: Prologue

Brian May x Fem!Reader

Masterpost / Part 1

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: none, except for the fact that I write John Deacon’s nickname as ‘Deacy’ (don’t yell at me; that’s how Brian spells it)

Word Count: 1.6k

‧⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

RIDGE FARM, JULY 1975

“It’s been so very nice of you all to have us here,” said Freddie earnestly, enveloping your mum in a hug.

She laughed. “It was a pleasure.” She stood back and smiled at them all. “You’re such lovely boys.”

“Indeed, you’re welcome back anytime,” said your dad. “I’m going to need a rematch in tennis, eh John?”

John chuckled. “Of course, Mr. Andrews, but that’s not to say you’re going to win it.”

“Sebastian, please,” your dad shook hands with Deacy. “And I’ll be practicing in the meantime, mind you. Don’t suppose you can do that up in London.”

Roger hugged your mum. “I have a funny feeling,” he said, “that we won’t be only in London from now on.”

“This album is going to light it all up,” agreed Freddie.

“Thanks for introducing us to this place, Y/N,” Roger smiled to you, then ruffled your hair. You wrinkled your nose; you and he were the same age, but still he liked to think of you as his kid sister.

“You’re very welcome, Rog,” you replied, reaching up and ruffling his hair in payback.

“Oh, you ruined it!” he whined.

Freddie patted Roger’s shoulder, then pushed him aside. “Grouchy baby. You ruined her hair first.” He hugged you tightly and kissed the air at your cheeks. “Bye, darling,” he said.

“Bye, Freddie,” you said with heavy sorrow. You were going to miss the lot of them for the remainder of summer, because in staying with your family, you were leaving Queen.

“Shush, dearie. It’s not like it’s forever. And you know it’s only an hour from Surrey to London.”

“I know,” you said. “But I don’t have a car. Train’s expensive.”

“Maybe we’ll just have to come pick you up,” Deacy chimed in, winking and then hugging you goodbye.

“Please! It’ll be so dull here without you all,” you said truthfully.

“Y/N!” your brother Frank shoved you.

You pouted at him. “You’re just not good enough, Frank.”

Your brother mock-scowled at you, and you laughed at the contortion of his face.

“Think I’ll go start the car,” Roger said. He gave you all a cheery wave and was out the door.

“You’re in love with that car,” Brian, who had hung back quietly until now, sighed heavily.

“BETTER THAN WITH YOU, you nErD!” Roger shouted back, and you stifled a laugh, a hand lightly covering your mouth.

Brian smiled at you, and his eyes glittered; you found yourself gazing.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get up to other things out there,” Freddie muttered, and followed Roger’s path out of the house. “Au revoir, darlings!”

“Au revoir,” your parents chorused back in good humour.

As though taking some sort of cue, John smiled and left too.

“Thank you again for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews,” said Brian, stepping forward and shaking hands with your dad and your brother, before quickly embracing your mum. You had noticed, in the brief year and a half you’d known Bri, that he seemed to keep his distance from everyone, never hugging closely, always standing a few steps back. It wasn’t that he purposely acted detached, aloof and arrogant and that sort of thing, but he was quite often very distant— his mind was up in the sky with those twinkling stars he loved so dearly.

“Anna, dear. Please call me Anna,” your mum beamed up at the long-legged guitarist who towered above her by several inches. “It was so lovely to have you here.” And by you, you felt she meant him personally; there was something in her tone that suggested so, and besides, she had taken rather a liking to the soft intellectual conversation that Brian had held at the dinner table every evening, talking of stars and planets and faraway things.

“And I’m Sebastian to you, son,” your dad told Brian. “You’re in good company. No need for formalities.”

“Well, thank you Mr.— Sebastian,” Brian corrected himself with a slight blush.

“Brian,” your brother nodded to him.

“Frank,” Brian returned good-naturedly.

Your mum patted your dad’s shoulder and said something you couldn’t hear. Frank heard it, though, and the three of them departed the living room for the kitchen.

The colour rose to your cheeks as you realised they’d left you and Brian alone on purpose.

Your eyes trailed from the door where your family had left, to the centre of the room, accidentally meeting Bri’s eyes in the process.

He had opened his mouth as though to speak, but then shut it immediately and looked down at the toes of his white clogs as you smiled at him.

“Time to go, I suppose,” you said, a little sadness slipping into the happy demeanour you were attempting to maintain.

Brian fiddled with the hem of his jacket. “Yeah, I suppose,” he mirrored your words with a small smile.

He stood motionless a while, tall and willowy and somehow heart-breakingly far away, though he watched you with soft doe-eyes right in front of you.

You stepped closer. He angled his head to accomodate for your proximity and the height difference between the two of you. He did this often, tilting his head so that his hazel eyes met the light, wherever that light may have been, a pout forming on his lips, his shoulders sinking. He stared right at you, in a way no one ever looked at anyone these days, with such genuine emotion that you almost forgot how much your brain believed that no one would miss you if you were gone. Wide-eyed and forever radiating warmth, he looked lost for words, the innocence of youth embodied in his being and reflected in yours.

“You’re the reason why I play, you know,” you said.

“What?” he asked softly.

“Guitar. I never would’ve kept going if I hadn’t seen you perform. I was so close to giving up,” you confessed. “But, and sorry to be sappy, you inspired me.”

“Did I really?” there was amusement in his eyes, as though he did not quite believe you, as though your words were a little too fantastical.

You scoffed. “You’re too modest, Brian, and you’re insanely talented. I’ll never be that good, even if I were to practice every minute of every day.”

“If you keep playing,” Bri paused, “I have no doubt you will be better than me. Easily, in fact. I’m not exactly the world’s most technical guitar player.”

You tilted your head to one side, looking up at his pink cheeks and the curls that gently framed his face.

He suddenly reached for you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, the strands falling from his fingers as his touch lingered on your skin. Your breath caught, and you could barely move.

“Brian—”

He stepped back as quickly as he’d stepped forward. “Until next time, Y/N.” He flashed you that shy, out-of-character smile once more, then turned to go.

You couldn’t stand it, that after all those weeks in each other’s company, after everything, he would just leave without… well, without anything.

“Oh, dammit, Bri. Come here,” your hand brushed his shoulder and he spun around immediately, wrapping his arms around you with an unmistakable fervour you couldn’t have blamed your imagination for conjuring.

You were on your toes, he was slightly bent over so as to hold you. His curls tickled your cheek, and he sighed into your hair.

Your eyes were jammed shut, and he rocked you gently back and forth. He held you close, unlike everybody else. As though you were special.

“I don’t think I can stand an entire summer without you,” Brian murmured, and the sharp edge of his honestly sent shivers coursing through you. You held onto him more tightly.

“Not an entire summer,” you responded. “Just half.” You had no idea who it was you were trying to reassure, but it was making you never want to let him go. You’d rather have stayed ever-so-slightly up on your toes, your arms folded around his neck for your fingers to sweep the shoulders of his velvet jacket— the same one he always wore— his arms wrapped around your waist, though this you barely noticed, because all of your being was focused on not letting him go— and oh, how you didn’t want to let him go.

He let out a pitiful sound, something between a groan and a whimper. “Y/N…”

“Bri,” you said, the name muffled by the owner’s shoulder.

“May I come see you? Just me?”

He was asking for permission, you could tell as much. He didn’t want to push you, and for that you were grateful. He was different, as opposed to men in your past who had waltzed about and taken from you and other women what they pleased, when they pleased.

“Or let me take you out,” he went on, and you realised you hadn’t answered.

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere you want to go.”

“Anywhere?” you whispered.

“Anywhere,” he answered conspiratorially.

“I’d love that,” you said. “Soon?”

His arms loosened and you dropped back to your feet. He held you still, but from where he could see you better.

“Soon,” he promised. He kissed your cheek fleetingly, his lips warm and petal-soft against your skin.

It was brief. You could’ve blinked and missed it. You wished he’d have lingered.

“Bri,” you sighed, hands finding his.

“It’s difficult,” he said, and you had not even the slightest idea as to what he was referring to.

He squeezed your hands and slipped away, stopping only to stand in the doorway as the last of the day’s sunlight caught on his hair.

“Goodbye, beautiful.”

You touched your cheek.

He was gone.

‧⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

A/N: shoot me a reply or an ask if you’d like to be tagged for future parts of this fic!! much love to you all <3

Masterpost / Part 1

#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #rog #john deacon #deacy #queen fanfiction #1970s #1975 #fic

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