#he's a god/individual and dare I say distressing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

l1teraryangel · 3 years ago

Text

In Another Life (Ch. 8)

Chapter Rating: M+

Chapter Warnings: Mild Sexual Content

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

Ryou sat, speechless, unable to do anything other than stare at Bakura as he looked over his Ryou’s body for signs of life or distress. The story of how this Ryou, an innocent child, awakened a vengeful spirit who then possessed him and immediately killed a man left him uneasy. Yet, after hearing the story of Malik’s father and how Kek, who he knew as an individual, started off as an alter ego to cope with trauma and then killed said father…

“I said it before, but I have to say it again: how you people are more sane than the ones in my world… Blows my mind.”

Bakura tucked Ryou in before shrugging and rejoining the other Ryou. “We didn’t start off that way. Well, technically, Touzoku-Ou was perfectly sane prior to his… our?... trauma. Atem never went insane while he was alive, but I think being sealed in the Puzzle did a number on him. He bounced back faster than me, though.” His nose scrunched. “Ugh, don’t tell anyone I gave him a compliment, alright?”

“Alive… Right, I keep forgetting. Him and Touzoku-Ou lived three thousand years ago. How exactly are they here now?”

“Hah! I couldn’t tell you. It happened about three years ago. One day I was wandering the shadows alone, totally lost and shit, and then the next thing I know… BAM! I’m alive. And Touzoku-Ou’s with me. Which is weird when you consider he and I are the same person.”

“Um…”

“I mean, we are and we aren’t? As he eloquently puts it, I’m an amalgamation of him, Ryou, and a demon god. Actually, he says it much crasser.” Bakura glared at the doorway. “Where the fuck is he? It’s been forty minutes. I swear, if he went back to sleep…”

“Is it weird being in a relationship with yourself?”

His companion grunted. “Like I said, we’re not exactly the same. We look different, for starters. And he’s a bit more… Human, I suppose. He remembers things from back then that I can’t, and I have my own memories, like actually being inside the Ring… Meeting Ryou… Possessing Ryou…” A scowl scarred his face. “Hurting Ryou. Manipulating Ryou. Working with him to build our deck, our RPG world, all while lying to him.”

Other Ryou, seeing the shimmer forming over the mahogany irises, inhaled sharply. He’d never seen Bakura, the one from his world, cry before. He doubted he ever would, but seeing this Bakura tear up let his imagination go wild.

Nevertheless, the sight hurt his heart, so he whispered, “Please don’t cry. It’s all in the past, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” The other shrugged, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his damp tear ducts. “The scars won’t ever fade, though. Mentally or physically.”

“Oh, puh-leasssse.”

Ryou glared at his own Bakura, who mockingly sniffled and dabbed at invisible tears. The Bakura across from Ryou turned to face his doppelganger, expression an emotionless mask.

“How dare you look like me while being such a pansy?” Other Bakura taunted, shouldering his partner who joined him in chuckling over the display. “Boo-fucking-hoo. Next you're gonna be sobbing about how much you miss your pet.”

“I do miss him.” The three other-realmers, not expecting the sudden confession, fell silent. “I miss the way he always smiles at me, like I’ve never done anything wrong to him. I miss the way he cooks our favorite foods. I miss the way he scolds us for stealing things. I miss the way he laughs when Touzoku-Ou and I fight. And want to know what I miss most about him?”

A smirk snuck onto Bakura’s lips, aimed directly for his and his boyfriend’s lookalikes. “I miss the way he chooses to be with us.”

***

‘I’m a horrible person.’

A fair arm dragged him closer, sweat and heat binding his bare back to Bakura’s exposed chest.

‘They’re going to be mad, aren’t they?’

Dark lips grazed his nose, his lips, his jaw while a pair of steel-colored eyes sank into his soul, amorous and wanting.

‘This is wrong. I shouldn’t have come in here… They’re going to hate me.’

Moisture pooled in his tear ducts, but he blinked it away. He refused to confuse and hurt the Bakura and Touzoku-Ou sandwiching him, devoting nothing but passionate love, blind to the fact he wasn’t even their boyfriend.

Nails scratched tauntingly down his spine, and he arched, mewling at the familiar sensation. The lips behind his head whispered, “You look so beautiful, Ryou. Like a succubus coming to steal our souls away.”

“Steal?” Touzoku-Ou breathed, and the moist heat clung to Ryou’s neck. “He doesn’t need to steal. He can have my soul.”

Bakura’s hand dipped beneath Ryou’s tailbone, causing him to whimper. The nimble fingers pinched and teased his cheeks, and he felt the lips by his ear form a smirk with each gasp, pant, and whine.

“Mine, as well,” The man replied, tongue lazily stroking a stripe from clavicle to ear. “The question is… How does he want to take it? Sweetly? By force? Would you like me to feed it to you?”

His finger slipped upwards and prodded at Ryou’s entrance, pulling a moan from the man’s lips. “B-Bakura…”

Touzoku-Ou answered his wanton moan, cramming his tongue inside Ryou’s mouth, exploring hungrily. They moaned and writhed together while Bakura circled his finger around the sensitive hole. When Ryou broke away, lips swelling and breath heavy, Touzoku-Ou changed his target.

Sliding over their centerpiece, Touzoku-Ou pinned Bakura by the shoulders and crushed their mouths together. The explorative finger abandoned its teasing, which Ryou secretly appreciated. He knew he needed to put a stop to this. He couldn’t commit to this act, no matter how tempting and warm the other Bakura and Touzoku-Ou were.

‘Where’s Kek and his loud mouth when I need him?’

“Beautiful gem,” Touzoku-Ou drawled and gently redirected Ryou’s face towards him and Bakura. “Let me see your eyes, Ryou. Don’t be so shy.”

Ryou tried to look away — dammit, he was trying so hard — but the rocking bodies beside him kept his gaze frozen in place. Touzoku-Ou, stripped of his pants and boxers, straddled Bakura’s hips. Meanwhile, Bakura bucked and frotted right into him, his hands dragging over Ryou’s shoulders while Touzoku-Ou praised the action with moans.

“So… handsome...” Bakura panted, gaze torn between both of the men surrounding him. “Ryou, you’re too far away. Come closer.”

“I…”

Ryou forced his eyes closed, forced the images from the morning the chaos started to the front of the mind. He saw his Bakura, hair fuzzed out beneath his head, and felt his Touzoku-Ou’s lips beneath his own. But they were not with him right now. The Bakura and Touzoku-Ou showering him in love belonged to a different Ryou. It wasn’t right for anyone involved.

“I can’t.”

The words, strained and reluctant, escaped him as a whisper. Bakura heard, or so his puzzled look implied, but Touzoku-Ou reached out for him. Hurt flashed across his eyes when Ryou jerked back, dropping off the bed clumsily.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I just… I can’t. Not right now.”

He ran from the bed and into the RV bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he thudded his back against it and slid to the floor. Tears, no longer held back, dribbled down his cheeks.

‘Gods forgive me for whatever I did to deserve being locked away from my own world. Please, give me back my boys. I want to sit down and watch a horror movie together. I want to play Monster World and watch them argue as much in-character as out. I want to cuddle together under the blanket. I want…’

He choked on a sob.

“I want to go home…!”

***

Bakura checked the clock for the umpteenth time. “Okay. It’s been an hour and a half since I woke up. I’m officially pissed, and he’s officially in trouble.”

Laughing a bit, Ryou asked, “Want me to go get him?”

Something in the question brought a mad grin to Bakura’s face. “That’s a great idea. And here’s one better: take this!”

Ryou fumbled with the piece of plastic thrown in his direction, confused eyes analyzing it. “The alarm…? Is that really a good idea?”

“For me? No. For you…?” Bakura snickered, canines poking out from his lips. “Oh, it’ll be hilarious. Just keep a meter or so from him, in case he thinks you’re me.”

“Uh…”

“No worries. He wakes up quick. Should realize you’re not me before he tries to strangle you.”

“‘Should’ doesn’t make me feel better…”

“Add an extra meter, then. Seriously, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought it was dangerous for you. I’ve had Yanushi pull similar pranks.”

For a second or two, Ryou continued to hesitate, but he relented and scampered off, listening to the echoes of Bakura’s cackle with a small smile. When he snuck into the room shared by the two lovers, he followed Bakura’s instructions and hovered his thumb over the alarm, eyeing the snoring man curled under the sheets ignorant to the torment looming over him.

The reaction played out much how he and, certainly, Bakura expected. Touzoku-Ou jumped about a meter in the air, a furious “WHAT THE FUCK?!” bouncing from wall to wall, yet he landed on his feet, ready to fight off the ‘threat’ daring to disturb him. Also how Bakura expected, he did lunge for Ryou, but he stopped short upon seeing the (slightly frightened) big brown eyes.

“Did that bastard put you up to this?”

Ryou gaped like a fish. “By ‘that bastard’, you mean…?”

“Who am I kidding? Of course he did. I’m gonna wreck his pretty face.”

The boy pursued Touzoku-Ou, who spared no time to register he was only in his boxers (if he cared), as he stormed down the hall. Bakura’s lunatic laughter could be heard long before they entered the room where, completely at ease and cross-legged on the floor, he smirked up at them.

“Morning, sunshine. Rough wake-up call?”

Without responding, Touzoku-Ou tackled Bakura and wrestled him into a headlock. “You fucking asshole! Dirty son of a bitch! Fight your own battles!”

Each insult only added layers to Bakura’s laughs. “Oh, please, tell me more about what a vile person I am, oh saintly King of Thieves. Truly, you are far holier than I.”

Their struggles renewed, and Ryou watched their solid bodies roll around, taking in how alluring they were and wondering again how things might have played out if the Bakura and Touzoku-Ou he knew were like them.

He chewed his bottom lip as Bakura, either by cheating or by cashing in a miracle, pinned Touzoku-Ou’s bulkier frame to the floor. “I could hear your scream from all the way back here. It was worth it.”

Growling, Touzoku-Ou tore one wrist from Bakura’s grip and shoved him off. He relaunched himself onto the thinner male, stopped only by Bakura’s foot being shoved into his jaw. “I’ll get you back when you least expect it. And I won’t send in Ryou to do it.”

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Bakura tutted and waved off the threat. “You should know I prefer fighting smarter to harder.”

“Coward.”

“Bitch.”

“You must be feeling better today, if you’re picking fights with one another.”

Ryou glanced over his shoulder. Malik and Kek stood behind him, the latter lost in a fit of giggles while the former shook his head, disbelieving the scene they walked in on.

“Get a grip, thieves. You look like idiots.”

Bakura flashed his teeth in a sneer. “Pot to kettle, Blondie.”

Touzoku-Ou, huffing over the end of both their physical and verbal battle, offered an acknowledging nod towards the Ishtar pair. “It’s our turn to watch the troublemakers, so why are you two here?”

Through his twittering, Kek replied on Malik’s behalf, “We heard the ruckus, wanted to see what the drama was.”

Malik rolled his eyes. “Apparently, Kek, it was just their usual stupidity.” He nudged Ryou with his elbow. “In case you’re curious, yes. They are always like this. How Ryou puts up with it is beyond me.”

“The same way you put up with that.” Bakura gestured to Kek, who had already grown bored and was trying to goad Touzoku-Ou into a morning fistfight. The blonde glanced at him, pausing his aggressive tugs on the thief’s messy hair, and promptly blew a raspberry.

Malik slapped his forehead. “Point taken. Ra help me.”

Kek perked up at the mention of their favorite god. “Hey, Albi, that’s not a bad idea!”

Everyone eyed him, expressions ranging from confused to incredulous. Touzoku-Ou, losing balance due to his shaking limbs, dropped to the floor, rolling as he howled.

“You did not just suggest what I think you did! That’s a fucking riot! The gods, help me? Help Bakura?”

Fueled by his lover’s contagious merriment, Bakura threw his head back and unleashed his signature laugh. “Kek, I know you are insane, but I thought you were smarter than that. If we asked the gods for help, they’d flip us the bird and throw our asses into the damned shadows.”

Kek crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, with that attitude, who can blame them?”

Malik rubbed his darker half’s head. “It’s not a bad idea. But Bakura and Touzoku-Ou are right. The gods are hardly fans of their past antics.”

“But they don’t hate Ryou,” Kek pouted and tugged Malik into his side, ignoring the rebellious squeak the other let out. “They’d help him.”

Silencing their laughter, Bakura and Touzoku-Ou sighed, in sync right down to the way they ran a hand through their hair. The more muscular of the two grumbled, “Sure, they might be willing to help Ryou, but he isn’t here. Who even knows if they’d hear him in whatever realm he’s in.”

Other Ryou frowned, unable to take his eyes off the pining pair. Seeing them so down, especially after having been in high spirits, caused a sadness to churn his stomach. “What about Atem? You said he was a pharaoh in his past life, right? Aren’t they supposed to be close with the gods?”

Now Malik took a turn to laugh. “That’s a clever workaround, but these two would never—”

Touzoku-Ou glomped Other Ryou, his eyes positively glowing as he spun him. “That’s brilliant! You’re so smart, little one!”

Under the approbatory gaze of the shorter, scantily-clad man and firmly held against his naked chest, Ryou’s cheeks blazed hues of red. “O-Oh, er… Thank you?”

Bakura nodded absently beside them. “Mr. King owes us, so he won’t even give us lip. Not that he would dare say no regardless. Yugi would put him in his place faster than you can say ‘whipped.’”

“You two are really going to ask the pharaoh for help?” Malik questioned, a skeptical scowl on his lips. “Like… Willingly? No coercion needed?”

The silver-haired pair studied him, eyes solemn and mouths neutral. Bakura replied after a beat, “I would suck the pharaoh’s cock if it were for Ryou’s sake.”

Likely picturing the scene, Kek sniggered. “Wish we were recording that. Would have made for great blackmail.”

While he and Malik chortled over the mental image, Ryou wiggled in Touzoku-Ou’s grasp. “U-Um, Touzoku-Ou? Would you let me go?”

“Hm?” Touzoku-Ou allowed Ryou to slowly slide out of his arms, smirking at the way Ryou’s face continued to burn red at the physical contact. “My bad. Sorry.”

Brow furrowing, Bakura sighed and shoved his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Go put some clothes on, you exhibitionist. Unless you want the pharaoh to see you half-naked?”

“Disgusting. Haven’t you done enough damage without making me sick on top of everything else?”

“Hey,” Malik interceded. “Even if you get dressed, don’t wake up Atem and Yugi. Let them get some rest. Atem definitely didn’t sleep much yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was up all night watching the two bastards to make sure they didn’t somehow break out of the circle.”

Kek bumped his forehead on Malik’s. “So thoughtful. I never knew you cared about Mr. King so much.”

His lighter half grunted. “Fuck no. He’s alright, for the most part, but Yugi is the one I worry about. He will be upset if we abuse the pharaoh too much.”

“Fine, whatever,” Touzoku-Ou groaned. “What should we do in the meantime then? Sit around and gossip like whores in a brothel?”

The words left his mouth and barely lingered in the air before Kek clapped his hands for everyone’s attention. “I know what we should do. Go get dressed, tomb-robber, so we can duel.”

Ryou, seeing the knowing grins on the four men’s faces, cocked an eyebrow. “Duel? Like… with swords?”

Bakura snorted, slapping his hand over his mouth before he could burst out laughing. “That might be fun, too, but I believe Kek meant Duel Monsters.”

“Oh.” Ryou nodded, brow furrowing. “...What’s that?”

***

Tucked away in the bathroom, left to cry and mope, Ryou found himself thinking back on his past with Bakura and Touzoku-Ou. The memories equally comforted and depressed him, but at least they were his, unlike the world he was trapped in.

/One last time… Humor me one last time, and if my presence displeases you, I’ll leave forever./

\There is no if, spirit. And as far as you leaving ‘forever’? I thought that last time, too. I was actually happy for a while.\

/…Please, Yad— …Ryou. /

He refused to move, less from stubbornness, more from shock. Yami Bakura never called him by name. Always Yadonushi, Yanushi, landlord, host. Occasionally a mocking “my dearest vessel."

\Fucking hell… Fine. I’ll come out. We’ll talk. But I’m telling Yugi first.\

/That’s isn’t… Okay, you know what? Go ahead. If you could keep the midget away, though…/

\Still pissed he beat you?\

/Yes, now that you mention it. But there is an actual other reason. For his… safety… Keep him out of sight./

Unsure if Bakura was threatening Yugi or not, Ryou huffed and shut out the mind link to the best of his ability. He ascended the stairs with fast, skittish steps, and he knocked lightly before letting himself into his friend’s room. Yugi was, surprisingly, still quite awake.

“Ryou? What’s up? Is everything alright?”

Ryou noticed through a brief glance that Yugi was shuffling through the deck he and Atem built so long ago. He tried not to dwell on the deck he and his own other half had built.

“He’s here, Yugi. Outside.” Yugi’s large violet eyes widened impossibly bigger. “I’m going to step out and talk to him, if only so he’ll leave me alone.”

“Ryou, that’s not a good idea…”

Shrugging, Ryou turned, fiddling with the doorknob. “I don’t think so either. That’s why I’m letting you know. I… Call me crazy, but something feels different. The way he’s talking… It’s not like before. He sounds genuinely tired… and sad.”

“Ry…”

“I know it’s probably a lie. I’m not gonna blindly throw myself at him. I’m just hearing him out so that maybe he’ll leave me alone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Ryou shook his head. “No, he specifically requested you not. It was weird. It didn’t seem like he was trying to keep you away out of anger or anything… Almost like he was concerned what would happen if you came out?”

Yugi frowned. “That’s… not comforting.”

“You’re telling me. Anyways… I’m not planning to stay out there too long. Maybe ten minutes. If I’m not back in at least twenty, though…”

“Oh, I’ll kick his ass if he tries anything.”

They shared a half-hearted chuckle, and Ryou escaped down the hall and stairs without further to do. His heart jumped into his throat when he reached for the front door’s knob, but he braced himself and proceeded.

\Where are you? I’m out front.\

/Around the corner./

\I’m not going to venture too far. I’m definitely not going into an alley. Just come to the front of the game shop.\

/…Okay./

Yet another bout of shock rocked Ryou’s core. He never, never expected the spirit to give in, much less without a fight.

/Before I… Before you get confused or nervous… There’s someone else with me… I’m not sure how to explain./

\Someone else? Yami Malik?\

/What? No… Why would he…? Is he back?/

\Who’s with you, then?\

/You’ll recognize him, but… Let me just…/

His words were making Ryou regret his decision more and more. He expected a one-on-one meeting, which was bad enough, but now it seemed like he walked into an ambush. He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled repeatedly to steady his shaking body, reminding himself he was only half a meter from the game shop.

“Yan— …Ryou.”

There it was, only a couple of meters away, coming from his left. His heart skipped and pattered at the voice, similar to his but slightly deeper, louder, bolder.

“...Spirit.”

It took a moment, but he managed to turn his body and fix his gaze on the creature wearing his face. Only it wasn’t his face anymore. The eyes, ruddy brown and narrow, the angular features, the extra volume in his wild hair… Yami Bakura still resembled him, of course, but the differences were more distinct than ever.

While he tried to keep a watchful eye on his untrustworthy doppelganger, Ryou’s gaze deviated, drawn by a shorter yet brawny figure idling behind. His brown eyes flashed over the smoky white, shaggy hair, the deep brown skin, the double-T scar. Finally, as the bombshell dropped, Ryou met the purple-blue eyes tucked beneath dense silver lashes.

“...That… He’s… How…?”

Yami Bakura shrugged and motioned for his company to come closer, whispering something in what Ryou presumed to be their shared ancient dialect. The King of Thieves walked a couple of extra steps, appraising Ryou cautiously, though a flicker of something more twinkled in his eyes.

“Your guess,” Yami Bakura responded, returning his attention to his former host, “is as good as mine. I’m not sure how either of us is here, and I definitely don’t know why we’re both here. Doesn’t seem possible, since we’re… Well, you know.”

“So is he the reason it was so important for us to talk?”

Another shrug. “I mean, he’s part of it. I… I don’t know. I wanted to see you. To talk to you, face-to-face. To talk about… everything.”

“I don’t want to talk about the past. Not tonight. Not with you.”

His doppelganger scowled. “I owe you an apology, don’t I?”

“Why would I want an empty apology, Spirit? What would that possibly do for me? I only came out here because you were insisting. And because you promised to leave me alone after.”

Scuffing the toe of his shoe, Yami Bakura visibly deflated. “...I will. That’s my final promise to you. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“That almost sounded sincere.”

“It is sincere. I still want to apologize, though. Maybe not for… everything… I can’t say I regret everything that happened.” He ignored Ryou’s scoff. “But for dragging you along, hurting you, making your life so hellish and betraying your trust time and time again.”

Ryou shook his head. “You expect me to believe two years of banishment is all it took for you to realize what an asshole you were?”

“Has it really only been two years? Time gets away from you in the shadows,” Bakura sighed, wistful and soft. “I don’t think it was just the banishment, though. Part of me… The part belonging to… It died along with Him, I think? I feel like I can breathe, like I can step back and see things clearly.”

Ryou noticed the former spirit swallowing a lump, saw the tiny tremors running down his gangly limbs. He waited, and sure enough, the other continued, “I understand now, at least partly, what I did to you. So… I want to apologize for that part of everything.”

The thief mumbled something to Yami Bakura, apparently losing interest in the dramatic scene unfolding. The man glared at him and muttered back a scalding reply.

Meanwhile, Ryou shakily cupped his face in his hands, absorbing the words his parasite threw at him. “...Does he not speak Japanese?”

Yami Bakura glanced back at him. “Why would he?”

Ryou dragged his hands down so he could glare at the doppelganger. “Watch the sarcasm. There’s nothing logical about any of this, so what’s the harm in fact-checking?”

Bakura looked away, almost appearing ashamed. “...Sorry. Not trying to be bitchy. I’m… I’m tired, okay? It’s been a long day.”

The thief beside him uttered something else, which Bakura rolled his eyes at. “He wants you to know you’re, and I quote, easy on the eyes.”

“...Uh, thank you?”

The thief smirked when Bakura translated the reply and added some more unknown words to the conversation. Bakura grumbled, unhappy to be playing translator. “He’s asking if you’re going to let us stay with you. His words, I promise. I’ll tell him no.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“I assumed the answer was obvious.”

“I assumed you would be asking the same.”

“Please, Yado— Shit, sorry… Ryou. I’m not stupid. I told you I only wanted to talk. I know you want me to leave. Even if you hadn’t made it clear earlier, I can see it on your face.”

Ryou gritted his teeth. “I do want you to leave. I don’t want you back in my life.”

“...Yeah, I know.”

“But…” Ryou continued and fingered his shirt, eyes trailing away from the pair of men in front of him. “...You don’t really have anywhere to go, and he has to be seriously lost, more so if he can’t speak or read Japanese.”

Notably bemused, Yami Bakura stared, furrowing his brows. “...I… guess that’s true.”

Nodding to himself more than the other men, Ryou let out one more sigh for good measure. “For now… If you agree to my rules and don’t cause problems… You can stay with me.”

“You’re… serious?”

“It would be irresponsible for me to leave two potentially dangerous individuals on the street. Besides…” Ryou side-eyed Yami Bakura. “Call me soft, but I don’t like the idea of forcing even you to sleep on the street.”

His doppelganger looked away, and Ryou swore he could see a tint of pink on his pale face. “You don’t have to… Ryou. You played landlord to me long enough.”

“Guess I’m a sucker for punishment.” Ryou ruffled his bangs away from his face, eyes falling to the sidewalk. “We’ll establish some rules in the morning… Let me go tell Yugi what’s happening so he doesn’t freak out too much, and then we can go home.”

Yami Bakura’s eyelids drooped as his expression morphed, dreamy and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Home… Yeah… Let’s go home.”

***

Two cautious knocks pulled Ryou out of his daydream, away from the past and the men who would become his boyfriends. He sniffed and dabbed his nose with the outside rim of his shirt. The knocker’s identity was semi-obvious since only two people were currently in the RV with him.

“G-Guys, I… I need a few minutes… Please.”

“Sure, no problem, just…” It was Bakura, voice trembling with melancholy, words broken up by hesitation. “When you feel like it… Could we talk? I’m… We’re worried about you, Ry.”

Touzoku-Ou’s voice, carrying the same forlorn tone, said, “Ryou, if we’ve done something, please let us know, alright? Or… Were we being too pushy?” Bakura whispered something, though Ryou couldn’t make out the words. “Right, we’ll… talk when you feel up to it. I’m gonna go check on some things.”

“Me, too. Come find us when you’re ready, okay?”

Knowing a simple nod wouldn’t work, Ryou uttered in a half-whisper, “Okay.”

They lingered outside the door, as if they were reluctant to leave him alone. Ryou held his breath, waiting for some noise to indicate they were no longer there, and after another minute or so, the RV’s only entrance and exit thumped open then closed.

‘They’re so sweet, just like my boys. I must have hurt them a lot by pulling that stunt… I need to apologize. It’s not their fault I stole their boyfriend’s body. It’s not their fault I’m a fucking mess right now.’

It wasn’t his fault, either, a tiny voice insisted. He certainly hadn’t stolen the other Ryou’s body intentionally, nor had he meant to lose control over his emotions. Too many things kept happening, back to back, leaving him not a spare second to breath or process.

Burying his face into his knees, Ryou gulped air into his lungs, desperately fighting the tears once again threatening to slip down his cheeks. He sought comfort in the interrupted memories from earlier, choosing to dwell on the past in place of the present.

That night, when he took Bakura and Touzoku-Ou back to his apartment, after a short-lived argument with Yugi about his safety, Ryou had collapsed on his bed. Bakura watched him from the doorway of his room, Touzoku-Ou peeking around the taller man to take in all the foreign sights.

“You remember where everything is, don’t you? There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet. I figure one of you can sleep on the couch, and the other can take the fl—”

Once again driven by boredom, Touzoku-Ou shoved past Bakura and leapt onto the bed, landing beside Ryou with a cheeky grin. He said something, which caused Ryou to look to Bakura for assistance. His darker half glared at his Ancient Egyptian counterpart and stormed off without a word, leaving Ryou to fumble with what little of the language he recalled from his years in Egypt.

“Mmkay, guess he doesn’t want to translate anymore… Can you say that again? Slower?”

Touzoku-ou stared, seemingly mesmerized by Ryou’s lips while he spoke, and placed a casual thumb over the point of interest. He traced his thumb over Ryou’s supple flesh, eyes shining like the night sky despite, or perhaps because of, the dark. Wordless, the man caressed his hand backwards from Ryou’s mouth, never letting the contact be broken, until he clasped several wisps of white hair between his fingers. A single word finally drifted among them, and Ryou recognized it.

Family.

Despite his previous vacillation, Ryou felt his heart melt. The King of Thieves, Thief King Bakhura, orphaned by the destruction of Kul Elna and left to survive the harsh world of Ancient Egypt from a young age. He remembered what little the spirit told him while they worked on the RPG diorama, remembered how much sorrow and sympathy and anger had boiled up inside him.

Without thinking, Ryou grabbed Touzoku-Ou and hugged him, repeating the word into the ashen hair, promising and praying for it at the same time. The thief stiffened at the embrace before dubiously returning the affection.

“Be careful, Ya… Ryou,” Bakura’s half-amused, half-annoyed voice called, and Ryou caught a glimpse of him back in the doorway, sleeping bag tucked under his arm. “He’s not an innocent child. He’s still a murderer and a thief. And the thief part of him has eyes on you, from what I’ve heard.”

Mildly irritated, Ryou shook his head and pulled away from the embrace, smiling at the quizzical look Touzoku-Ou gave him. “You’re being a pervert. I don’t speak the language as well as you, but I know he called me family.”

“Mm, yes… Family. Family doesn’t stop at siblings and parents. A husband and, in your case, husband are still family, Ryou.” Bakura chuckled to himself and tossed the sleeping bag on the floor in front of Ryou’s bed. He ignored Ryou’s inquiring gaze, continuing, “But hey, if banging your ancestor from three thousand years ago is your fetish, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, enjoy your family time.”

“You really can’t resist being a bastard, even when you’re supposedly trying to be better.”

“Blame him,” Bakura smirked, gesturing towards Touzoku-Ou. The thief raised an eyebrow. “What’s left of me is all him, you, and a pitiful fraction of darkness. So either he’s to blame or you are.”

Ryou pondered his words. “Does he know who you are? What you are?”

“I didn’t really dive deep into an explanation. I was trying to find you. He saw my hair, heard me speak the old language, and just sort of… stuck with me.”

“That’s good. Modern Japan would be pretty dangerous. He might get hit by a car or something.”

Bakura shrugged, but his attempt to respond paused when Touzoku-Ou grumbled. Barking a sharp retort at the thief, Bakura flopped down onto the sleeping bag. “He’s giving me a headache. I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re sleeping at the foot of my bed?”

“He’s determined he’s sleeping in your bed. Since you don’t seem particularly inclined to kick him onto the couch, I’m staying here to make sure he doesn’t get handsy with you.” Pause. “Unless you want me to leave. Like I said, to each their own fetish. Wouldn’t want to cockblock you on your wedding night.”

“...I’m going to sleep.”

“Heh, that’s what I thought. Want me to tell your new husband goodnight for you?”

“Go to sleep, you arrogant prick.”

***

When the tears ran dry and with his heart warmed by the recollections, Ryou splashed cool water on his face and exited the RV. The sun told him it was late afternoon, and the area around the RV bustled with activity. Nameless faces ran about, carrying merchandise or material for certain stands. He assumed they were background workers or local volunteers eager to help the circus settle in.

‘I don’t know where to begin looking for them… But for my other self’s sake, I need to make sure they understand they haven’t done anything wrong.’

A hiss drew his ear, and he beamed as the looming figure of Diabound poked over her fence, massive head and slit eyes angled to see him. The reptile seemed to beg for his attention, so he happily ambled over and stroked her down the scales. She began to wrap around his shoulders, her muscles constricting to root her in place and knocking a bit of air out of Ryou’s lungs.

“E-Easy, girl,” He gasped and pushed at her body. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hold you by myself.”

Her nose bumped his ear and jawline, tongue tickling his cheek. She didn’t continue to climb the fence and force her weight onto him, thankfully, but she nuzzled insistently into his face. He scratched the groove centered on her skull, giggling as her tongue flickered over his skin more and more.

“That really tickles, Diabound. Hey, since we’re here together, can I tell you a secret?” She exhaled through her glottis. “You might not believe this, but I’m not the Ryou you know. I’m from another world, an alternate universe.”

Diabound inched forward, underbelly scales accordioning over Ryou’s clothing. She curled enough to look him in the eye, like she was trying to figure out what he was talking about. Ryou giggled to himself and rubbed her chin.

“Where I come from, you’re not a snake, at least not entirely. You actually have a masculine body for your upper half, and then you turn into a snake on your lower half? I don’t explain it well, but you look super cool.” Tongue flicks grazed his nose. “You’re also not a creature that just… exists. You’re Touzoku-Ou’s ka, which is like his spirit creature? Kinda hard to explain if you aren’t familiar with Ancient Egyptian culture… Which he is since that’s where he was born and grew up.

“So, you see, Touzoku-Ou was a kid whose village was slaughtered by the pharaoh… Or at least that’s what he thought. It was actually the pharaoh’s brother. But because of that, Touzoku-Ou grew up hating the pharaoh and… Well, it’s a long story.

“Bakura in my world is actually a person who was formed by a piece of Touzoku-Ou’s soul and a demon god. There’s another whole story there, and everything is convoluted. Should I make some notes for you?”

The snake gazed at him, no longer tongue flicking or moving. Ryou rubbed her chin some more. “Did you fall asleep? Sorry, I started rambling. You’re very easy to talk to.”

In a doglike fashion, the serpent cocked her head, lengthy tongue flicks absorbing Ryou’s smell. Knowing this snake represented his lover’s ka in this world, Ryou bravely bumped noses with her, secure enough to believe Diabound would never hurt him in any world. True to form, the snake allowed the odd affection, exhaling a sigh-type sound from her glottis.

Eventually, Diabound slithered off his body and back into her pen. Ryou continued to beam at her, admiring her solid body of pure muscle, marveling over the sheen of her scales.

When she settled most of herself back on the ground and only rested her chin on the fence to watch him, he whispered to her, “The point of this was to tell you I’m not the Ryou you’re used to. I mean, this is his body, but I’m a different soul. Weird, right? Promise not to go blabbing, okay? I don’t want anyone else to be as confused and freaked out as I am.”

He chuckled and walked away, not noticing the snake had once again cocked her head to the side, studying him with calculating eyes.

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

AO3 Link: In Another Life - Chapter 10 - LiteraryAngel - Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

28 notes · View notes

fallenrepublick · 3 years ago

Note

maul ransacking the palace after regaining memory of his s/o: where are my kisses from starlight?? where are my snuggles and cuddles that i crave so dearly

ANYWAY i love this whole idea. needy heartbroken maul is my JAM ok. and im v curious what maul’s internal process actually WOULD look like, either before savage jogs his memory or on the cruiser? 👉👈

Excellent question!

Prior to "waking up," so to speak, he's the Maul everyone knows. A harbinger of darkness, a fierce warrior, angry, vengeful, lonely, yet too wrapped up in his ways that he won't accept any different. His mind all but reverts back to the abandoned apprentice, bent on revenge and little else. Who you were, he was unclear, and if anything, it made him angry. You weren't a Mandalorian warrior, that was for certain. At first, you desperately tried to interact with him, to explain something, to make him remember something? Whatever it was, it all seemed like senseless muttering to him.

Savage seemed to know you... somehow. Yet he kept his distance.

The other zabrak, meanwhile, only caused more questions. Through the force, Maul sensed something off about him, something familiar, yet neither like him or his brother. Whatever this sense was, he hated the overwhelming sadness he was assaulted with whenever he was around the zabrak. Sometimes in fact, he would feel it by himself, a distant sense he knew could only have come from this stranger. Often, Maul would consider finding a way to be rid of Feral, one way or another. Although, the thought almost instantly left his mind, as its arrival managed to pull Feral's gaze upon him. Was this... a sense of fear? Fear of what? Even if it were... he'd never admit to it.

This version of Maul felt nothing short of relief when the two of you were gone. Something about the two of you was... wrong.

But the Maul you knew, waking up one morning as if all had been well the day before, was anything but relieved.

Never was his Starlight awake before him, he was so used to feeling you beside him in the morning. But the space beside him was cold, not even the remnants of an indentation where you usually slept. At this, he jolted upright, scanning the palace to the best of his ability for your presence, only to come up with nothing. A mental account of who was there.

Him. Savage. Saxon. Kast.

...You weren't there. And neither was Feral.

Forcing the bedroom door open hard enough to dent half the surface, he ran with horrifically heavy steps to Savage's room. Of course, his brother had been awake for hours already.

"Brother? What's-"

"Where is Starlight?!" Maul growled. It wasn't an accusation. Not to Savage, at least.

But his brother only stared. "What... do you mean?"

"Starlight is gone, where are they?!"

"They're... with Feral, of course. You remember, they left years ago..." He watched Maul's expression grow increasingly distressed. "Brother... how much... do you remember?"

Choosing not to answer, Maul instead orders the shuttle to be prepared, and a search conducted.

Hearing what's become of you and Feral, Maul isn't certain if it's more of a relief or a harsher pain. You were safe, at the very least. But there's more to it, isn't there?

Feral, the brother he once knew to be a grounding bridge, a peaceful support system, now someone whose name is known by even the most sheltered of individuals on some small nearby planet. Was this all on purpose? In Maul's absence, would Feral dare so flippantly to fill his twin's shoes? It was all Maul could think of on the way down, this small show of aggression. Come find me, it was like Feral was saying, try to take them from me.

And so Feral stood, rigid and tall as a false god, pretending to be someone he's not. He could try, try to be Maul. But something would always be missing, wouldn't it? This whole time, no doubt, you'd have felt that gap, the pieces of Maul you could never get from Feral. There would have been an inadequacy to his love, an element of strength to it that Feral simply could never provide. And Feral's "leadership"? Such a façade could only go on for so long. In time, you'd find the cracks, the weakness that Maul never suffered from.

Outside the home he made for himself, despite it feeling more like you, Maul watched his brother as the shuttle approached. Perhaps if things were different, he would have thanked his brother for keeping you safe. But the betrayal was not something he could take lightly. Feral was not merely keeping you safe, but practically took you from Maul, manipulating, altering your allegiance. Those mind games he played through the force were without a doubt having their affects on you.

"Starlight, it's time for us to leave."

Take my hand.

Why aren't you moving?

Come to me. Come home.

"Starlight."

His hand stretches further. As does his feelings through the force. But all the sensations in his reach can feel is a wall, cold and solid. You were warm. You'd always been warm and safe. It can't have been that long... he couldn't have been that cruel to you...

Instead, he searches Feral, a glance to him to search for something on his mind for an answer. Any answer at all.

Against all odds, Maul comes up with... nothing. Feral's eyes narrow slightly in response. Don't.

What's Maul supposed to think? What's he meant to feel, when your back turns, when you take Feral's hand instead? It's been hours for Maul, years for you. To you... he's been all but dead that whole time.

He stretches out one last time through the force, holding on to the last bit hope that had long since abandoned him.

Please.

Nothing.

The strength in his connection wavers. And you're gone.

#darth maul #maul #feral opress

25 notes · View notes

igottiny · 5 years ago

Text

Ateez: Individual member: Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with you, their crush. Female reader.

It was just supposed to be a relaxing night with you hanging out in the dorms with the boys before the next round of promotions started. But innocent games eventually turned in Never Have I Ever, and Truth or Dare. Currently it was a game of Truth or Dare. You were called on by the previous victim to choose between these given two options. Feeling brave you picked dare. What you weren't expecting was the smirk and being told that you had to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with, of all people in the room, your crush.

San - He doesn’t know why he is so nervous. It’s not like the two of you don’t flirt with each other all the time. It doesn’t matter what it was you were doing together, the flirting just happened naturally. No one really paid any mind to it as it was just the way the two of you were. However, he only really let on to Wooyoung that the flirting on his end at least was real. He was over the moon for you. You had grown up playing volleyball as well and also shared a love for reading, though you did have fundamental disagreements on which Stephen King novel was his best work.

Whenever you were around you were practically attached at the hip, and even when apart you were constantly texting each other. He’s not quite sure when his flirting turned serious for him but he was about at the end of his rope. Honestly, he was glad that you had chosen the dare and Wooyoung chose him to go with you and not one of the other members. You had basically been locked in the laundry room with him so he might as well come clean with his feelings. He would have liked this to be more romantic but if he had to risk someone else getting dared to do something filthy with you instead of him for one more round of the game he was going to lose his mind.

“Y/N,” he started as he squared his shoulders, “I know this might just be a game, but to be honest, all the time I spend with you is time spent in heaven.”

“That one was cheesy Sannie.”

“I mean it Y/N. Drop dead serious. Cross my heart and hope to die. I drop Wooyoung like a sack of potatoes if I know I get to spend time with you instead. You never get out of my head. You’ve become my partner in crime.” He drags his hands down his face when you just stare at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Y/N, what I’m trying to say is that I like you as way more than friends. I hate the time we spend apart. It feels like an important part of me is missing. I get to have conversations with you that the others won’t hold. And no one else will pass a volleyball back and forth with me. You mean the world to me. You are my heaven on earth.”

In reality, it couldn’t have been more than a minute that had passed. But it was like days drawn out for him as you just stared at him, expression unreadable. No sooner had his shoulders slumped in defeat and he hung his head did he have your arms wrapped around his neck and you in his arms. He was thrilled but soon distress settled in as he felt you shake and a sniffle reach his ears. He quickly pulled your arms from around him and held you by the arms far enough away to get a good look at you.

“I’m sorry Sannie. I just never thought in a million years that all your flirting would actually mean something. You tend to just flirt without realizing you are doing so. It’s like second nature to you. I learned it hurt less that you were flirting with everyone if I just played along and flirted back too.” You were trying so hard not to cry as you confessed to liking him back, even if they were happy tears.

“Oh Y/N,” he breathed out before closing the distance between you and kissing you like he had wanted to for so long. It took seconds for it to turn heated as the pent up feelings and sexual tension were finally let out like an opened dam. Neither of you noticed you were moving until your lower back collided with the dryer as your hands explored each other in ways you both had only dreamed of before.

It was the moan that you released when his right hands trailed down the side of your body and to the front of your pants that caused the kiss to break. Both of you were panting as you rolled your hips into his touch. You both had wanted for so long. He dove in for another kiss which soon moved your neck as you ran your hands over him as well. You changed your stance to allow him more room and the zipper on your pants was soon undone. His hands were strong and nimble.

Time had flown faster than either of you had thought possible and Wooyoung was opening the door to the laundry room without a second thought. You didn’t even have time to pull away from each other before you heard Wooyoung’s blaring voice.

“Oh my God,” he screamed, quickly backing back out. “Use a condom,” he yelled as he slammed the door shut.

___________________________________

MASTER LIST

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez smut #choi san

223 notes · View notes

angst-fairygodmother · 5 years ago

Note

Kiss #5 with Sonny x reader

A/N: What a perfect setup for ♫Angst♫ with a happy ending. Word Count: 1107 Warnings: Canon-typical violence, references to human trafficking, language, blood Prompt: Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips. Tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @caracalwithchips @laneygthememequeen (tagging the three of you because you’ve expressed previous excited interest in my SVU fics. Let me know if you’d like to be removed from this list in the future, or if you are not one of said three and would like to be added 😉)

You hated undercover work, especially when it ended up in a long game and kept you away from home. You hated sleeping in sketchy apartments or motels, the condition of which you didn’t dare to consider closer for fear of what you might uncover. You hated having to dress in clothes fitting the part instead of your own taste. You hated having to interact with marks and perps and other smarmy, skin-crawling individuals.

But most of all, you hated being apart from Sonny.

The two of you had been together for almost a year when a deep-cover sting on a trafficking ring took you away for going on three weeks now. You couldn’t wait for it to be over, and luckily, if your intel was right, tonight was the night.

Of course, you worked with Manhattan SVU and nothing ever quite seemed to go your way.

Someone had tipped off someone and word had gotten back around to the leader of the ring. The bust had turned into a hostage situation, with you and three girls held at gunpoint while he raged and spit, demanding to know which of you was the cop so he could “blow their whore head off.”

You thought about giving yourself up, to protect the victims, but you also didn’t believe he was the sort of man to just accept your word. Sure he would probably follow through on his threat and kill you if you admitted that you were an undercover detective, but he would probably also kill the others, either before you to make a point or after you just in case you were lying.

So you huddled with them, cowered in a corner, making sure that you were positioned in front so that if the gun he was waving around went off, it would be likely to hit you and not them, and you waited, praying like hell that Olivia and the rest of the squad would come in time, praying that you would get to see Sonny’s face again.

It was getting too risky. The longer the standoff went on, the more likely it was he would snap, someone would get hurt. Or, just as likely, one of the other girls would cave and rat you out, hoping to save her own skin. You had to say something while you still had at least a chance of talking him down.

You summoned Sonny’s face in your mind, his dusty blue eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was always smiling. You wondered if after tonight he would still smile. You shook the thought away and tried to imagine him by your side, telling you that you had this, that you were going to be fine and then he’d have his mother’s zeppole waiting for you when you walked through the door. You smiled at the thought, in spite of yourself.

“Promise you won’t hurt us, if we tell you?” one of the girls asked, voice trembling with fear, cutting through your mental pep-talk.

You turned to her wide-eyed and tried to hold in the swear that you ended up muttering under your breath. There went your control of the situation.

“Of course not, beautiful. I’m only looking to hurt the ones trying to screw me over. You’re my girls.”

“Okay. It’s…” she hesitated, looking at you apologetically before pointing to you, tears spilling down her cheeks.

It all happened fast after that. You weren’t really sure the sequence of events, but the door kicked in, shots were fired, and then you were sitting in the back of an ambulance with a blanket over your shoulders and blood, his blood not yours, spattered across your face.

“You alright, Y/N?” Kat asked, leaning against the door of the bus beside you.

You frowned, trying to decide what your answer was to the question. You weren’t hurt, but you were dazed, maybe even in shock.

“I…” you hesitated, mouth open, waiting for words that wouldn’t come.

She raised a concerned eyebrow. “Maybe we should have the EMTs check you out after all…”

“No, I’m alright,” you said finally, shaking yourself off. “Just…tired. And I could use the world’s longest, hottest shower.”

Before she could respond with more than a chuckle, you heard your name shouted through the crowd of personnel gathered around in a voice like music to your ears even with the distressed note to it.

“Y/N, there you are!” Sonny said, pushing his way past several officers to get to you, his long tan coat flapping in the breeze he generated.

“When they said shots were fired…I was so…don’t scare me like that doll.”

“Sonny,” you sighed, heart overflowing with relief at the sight of his blue eyes and the sound of his stupid Staten Island drawl.

He paused, finally taking in where you were seated and the marks on your face.

“Is that blood? Oh my god, doll are you hurt?” his voice rose an octave, cracking with panic as his eyes roved over you, searching for the source.

“Not mine,” you croaked, barely getting the words out before you were crushed to him in a hug that you swore made your ribs creak. Not that you cared, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him close and hold him just as tightly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Kat shake her head and walk away, blessedly giving the two of you a moment alone.

“For a second there, I was scared I wouldn’t ever see you again,” you admitted, whispering your confession into his ear.

His grip on you tightened, if that were even possible. “Don’t…don’t even say that. Don’t ever…I couldn’t live if that happened Y/N.”

He pulled back just long enough to look you in the eye before his lips were on yours. The kiss was like none you’d shared before, desperate, needy, both of you pouring all of the love and fear in equal measure that you felt into it. You breath escaped you in a groan as you clung to each other.

“Carisi,” Fin said, voice making you jump apart like two teenagers caught on the bed by your parents. “We’re done for the night. Why don’t you take Y/N home. Y/N, Liv says to take a few days off and then have your report done by Monday.”

You nodded.

“Thanks Fin,” Sonny said, clapping the older man on the shoulder and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“And hey, Y/N. Even if we’re not going to show it like he did,” Fin smirked. “We’re all just as glad you’re okay.”

#Sonny Carisi x Reader #reader insert #Sonny Carisi #Law and Order: SVU #angst with a happy ending #This request was so perfect you don't even know #I'm from Brooklyn via Rhode Island. I am obligated to rip on the Staten Island accent #but I love him anyway

74 notes · View notes

awkward-tension-art · 6 years ago

Text

Gossip

Alpha!bakugou x beta!reader

Fr give some betas some love y’all

Warnings: swearing, that’s all

@bakugouscentedcaramel

“Young hero Ground Zero has settled for a simple beta-“

“Ground Zero, most desirable bachelor, has been wasted on a-“

“can a beta and alpha work? How can pro hero Ground Zero truly be happy if-“

You turned off the TV. It had finally gotten out. Your relationship to Katsuki Bakugou. He wanted you out of the media’s eye, not out of shame but fear for your safety.

Villains had targeted him before, no telling if they would try for his love.

Someone must have taken a picture or video of you two together and sold it to every tabloid in Japan. In a span of hours you have been targeted, shot down and insulted.

All for being a beta.

It was a fact you used to wear with pride. Your presence alone could calm even the wildest of people.

It was how you and Katsuki had gotten together and worked so well. You’d be there to calm him down during his worst days, and he’d be there to protect you on yours.

You and him were so careful. How did they know?

Once they did, your name, quirk and beta status had been known to everyone.

And to everyone, you weren’t good enough.

You wouldn’t let it get to you. Your ballistic lover already had to much to worry about. You’d wear a smile, ignore the media’s cruel words, and let the storm pass.

But god, it was going to be a strong storm.

Even now, days later, you flipped through the news channels, and your lover came up.

“Do you think Ground Zero didn’t go public because he’s ashamed?” A pink haired woman asked the other 3 she was with.

“Of course, an alpha and beta together is nothing to celebrate.” A man with gray hair and mouse ears spoke, the rest of the individuals nodded.

“Maybe the reason that He has an explosive personality is that the beta isn’t enough for him.” Blondie piped up again.

All 4 of them began to agree over eachother, voices melting into one big insult, “yes, they aren’t good enough.”

The T.V was shut off and you jumped. Swiftly you turned around to see a very unhappy boyfriend with the remote in hand.

“The fact that you even listen to them pisses me off.” Bakugou growled.

You reached out to him, and instinctively he grabbed your hand, the contact calming him.

“I try not to,” You said, and the blonde hero sat next to you on the black couch, “but sometimes....I don’t know.” You sighed and put your head in your hands, “how are you handling this?”

He scoffed, “by making sure no one goes after you.”

Ah, of course he wouldn’t focus on the gossip. He didn’t care what anyone said. He was a top hero, what would words do to him that villains couldn’t?

Both could target you, but only one could kill you.

Still, you loved your alpha boyfriend. Not for his status, not for his looks or quirk. You loved him for him.

“You’re smiling at me again.”

You snapped out of your thoughts. You didn’t realize that you focused on him when you zoned out, “Sorry, think about how amazing you are.”

He turned his face away, a small blush at his cheeks, “shut it dumbass. You’re the amazing one, putting up with me and stuff.”

You giggled and leaned forward, pecking his cheek innocently.

There was still a question gnawing at you.

“Am...are you...,” you cut yourself off when you pulled away, “i....are you-.”

Before you finished, bakugou pushed you over cutting you off, “don’t you dare finish that question.” He growled over you, red eyes filled with so much emotion, “You are good enough. Fuck, you’re perfect. You make me so unbelievably happy (Y/N), I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here.”

You were speechless. Even more so when he bent his head down to nuzzle your neck, scenting you.

“Katsuki-.” You gasped, overwhelmed by his presence.

“I’m going to tell the whole world that you’re mine. They can shove it if they think you aren’t perfect for me.”

Your hands found his shoulders and push him up to look at you. Distress flashed across his crimson eyes. Had he made you uncomfortable?

“I love you Katsuki. With all my heart. But I belong to no one.” Your voice was clear and strong, for a beta, you could easily assert your dominance if need be.

Bakugou licked his lips at your words and smiled devilishly.

“Damn straight, and your not going to listen to what anyone has to say.” He lowered his head, lips only centimeters from yours, “because you’re perfect, and amazing.”

Happiness flooded your being. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him in for a searing kiss.

“Fuck what the gossip says.” You broke away to say, “you and I are perfect.”

Bakugou snorted, “hell yea we are.”

At one point, the both of you fell off the couch, hitting the floor with a thump. Your body ended up on top of his.

Without thinking you laughed, the situation getting to you. Your boyfriend laughed below you, a genuine smile on his face.

The gossip was ridiculous.

You were fine, just the way you were.

#bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #a/b/o verse #alpha bakugou #a/b/o dynamics

274 notes · View notes

willofcausality-a · 5 years ago

Text

Reconnect

@mediioxumate sent: Trick or Treat! 🎃 :3

I told you I’d do it. Eventually. Let’s just pretend it’s still Halloween. Anyway this got way longer than I meant it to and I made myself sad with it, but I hope you like it!! And as always I hope I did your boy justice!!

Hajime only notices him at first because the hot pink of his hair is bright in the dimly lit, late night cafe. He only pays closer attention because of the bruises on his face. And he approaches because, finally, recognition strikes home.

‘Kazuichi?’

Kazuichi gives him only a cursory glance before returning to staring into the bottom of his cup. ‘I’m really not in the mood to be made fun of right now, so don’t even bother,’ he mumbles.

Kazuichi doesn’t recognise him. Hajime supposes this isn’t surprising. He’s changed a lot since they were children. So has Kazuichi, judging by the hair and coloured contacts. But, despite Hajime’s often hazy memory, he’s good with people. He often thinks it may be because of his bad memory, rather than in spite of it, so used to having to search through some kind of distortion to get to the real thing. And he can see it in Kazuichi. The way he worries at his lower lip with his teeth. The way one leg bounces anxiously. The way his eyes flit around the room and his shoulders hunch, anticipating some kind of threat.

Hajime sits down opposite him.

‘I said—’ Kazuichi begins, finally looking Hajime in the eye, and then he pauses.

Hajime can see Kazuichi’s mind working. It’s his eyes, he knows. Even if everything else about him is different, he still has very distinctive eyes, and they’re stirring something in Kazuichi’s memory even if he can’t quite place it.

‘It’s Hajime,’ Hajime says. ‘Hajime Hinata. We... We were friends when we were kids.’

‘Wait... Hajime?’ Kazuichi almost stammers in his disbelief as realisation finally dawns. His gaze sweeps over Hajime again, and Hajime fights the urge to wrap his arms around himself. To shield himself. Kazuichi is just in disbelief, trying to reconcile memories of his childhood friend with this stranger sitting opposite him.

Instead, Hajime flashes a small smile and gives a small wave. ‘Hello.’

‘Hey!’ All trace of anxiety or distress has temporarily left Kazuichi, and his face lights up in a smile. If Hajime had seen that smile before anything else, he would have recongised him instantly. ‘God, Hajime, you’re so—I can’t believe you—’

He doesn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence, for which Hajime is grateful. Even if Kazuichi is reaching for a compliment, he knows it’s not something he’s going to be comfortable hearing. So he intervenes before Kazuichi can finally pull out a complete sentence.

‘I like your hair.’

Kazuichi’s hand goes to his hair, twisting a lock of it around his finger. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. It suits you.’

Kazuichi smiles for a moment, and then his expression drops again and he sighs. ‘My dad didn’t think so.’

Hajime hesitates, eyes lingering on the purple bruise ringing Kazuichi’s eye, on his swollen lip and the dried blood crusted in the corner of his mouth. He’d always feared Kazuichi’s father would go too far one day and lash out at his son with his fists instead of his words. It looks like that day finally came.

‘That’s... sorta why I’m here.’ Kazuichi looks down into his cup again. ‘Mom’s kickin’ him out finally and she said I should probably... y’know. Stay outta the way until he’s gone.’

Hajime wonders if the advice was to protect Kazuichi from getting hurt again, or to protect him from seeing her getting hurt.

Possibly both.

His heart breaks for both of them. Kazuichi’s mother was always good to him, better to him even than his own. He remembers wishing she was his real mother and then feeling an almost crippling guilt for daring to think something so ungrateful.

And Kazuichi... Well. He’s never had a friend like Kazuichi since they drifted apart after starting different highschools. Someone he could tell anything to. Someone who did not look at him like he was some delicate flower that had to be preserved under glass, or throw him leering, lecherous glances when he looked at him at all.

He thought about Kazuichi less as he grew up, his childhood friend slowly being buried along with everything else from those more innocent times, but it wouldn’t be true to say he forgot him altogether. He still thought about him fondly, almost wistfully, from time to time as was normal with distant friendships. Especially when he found himself in situations where he felt he had no one to turn to for help or comfort.

‘Are you planning on just staying here until it’s safe to go home?’ Hajime asks.

Kazuichi shrugs. ‘Guess so. Ain’t got anywhere else to go.’

‘Come home with me.’ Hajime makes the offer almost before he’s aware he’s going to, but he persists with it anyway. ‘You might as well wait somewhere more—somewhere warmer.’

He was about to say somewhere more comfortable, but his home is anything but comfortable. If Kazuichi remembers anything about him from their youth, he’d know that too.

After a moment, Kazuichi nods. ‘Yeah, okay. Thanks.’ He downs the rest of the contents of his cup and makes a face; it’s probably cold by now.

Hajime gets to his feet, automatically straightening out the creases in his skirt. He catches Kazuichi giving him an amused look, and blushes. He remembers all the fights he had with his parents as a child, insisting he was not going to wear a skirt or a dress, he was not. All the times he purposely put ladders in his tights to spite them, or played around in the mud in his best clothes with Kazuichi. And now here he is, clothes smart and immaculate, hair teased into loose, elegant curls and pulled into a neat ponytail.

He feels a sensation of doubling, like stepping outside of his body and looking back at himself. A wave of dizziness washes over him as his surroundings seem to blur, and he closes his eyes, holding onto the table to keep himself upright.

‘Hey, you okay, dude?’ Concern in Kazuichi’s voice.

Hajime takes a deep, slow breath, and opens his eyes again. There’s a distorted shimmer over everything, like heat, but the dizziness is gone.

He forces a smile. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Come on.’

He leaves the cafe without waiting for a response, and Kazuichi falls into step beside him. He tries to focus on the sound of Kazuichi’s boots as he walks, rather than the clicking of his own sensible low heels.

****

The house is dark and the driveway is empty, as Hajime knew it would be. His parents won’t be back for another few hours yet. He lets himself and Kazuichi into the large entryway, closing the door behind them with a dull thud. It’s a claustrophobic sound to Hajime.

‘Never thought I’d be here again,’ Kazuichi says. He looks uncomfortable as he glances around the room. He looks very out of place here, and Hajime envies him that. Kazuichi’s father may not have reacted well, but Kazuichi is still grasping at his own individuality, becoming the kind of person he wants everyone to see him as, while Hajime has just retreated further and further and into his parents’ ideal image of a daughter, sacrificing everything that makes him feel like him.

He leads Kazuichi through the house and to his room, feeling at least a small sliver of relief when he closes the door behind him. While he’ll never be completely comfortable anywhere inside his parents’ house, his bedroom is the closest he’ll get. It’s his sanctuary.

Kazuichi stares around, no doubt pulling up what he remembers of this room from childhood and overlaying it with what he’s seeing now. Hajime leaves him to it, kicking off his shoes and going into the en suite bathroom. He changes out of his stifling skirt and blouse and into a plain t-shirt three sizes too big and pyjama shorts. Pulls out the ponytail and reties his hair into a loose, messy bun. Scrubs the makeup off his face.

When he reemerges, Kazuichi has sat down on the edge of the bed, and he grins when he sees him. ‘Now you look a lot more like you.’

'Shut up,’ Hajime says, making a face. But Kazuichi’s words cause a spark of warmth inside him.

He sits on the bed beside Kazuichi. He brought a dish of warm water and a washcloth from the bathroom with him, and he hesitates for a moment before reaching out to gently touch Kazuichi’s cheek, tilting his head a little to get a better look at his injuries. Kazuichi does not meet his eye as he does it, choosing to look down and fidget instead.

Hajime soaks the washcloth in water and then gently dabs it over the corner of Kazuichi’s mouth, removing the blood. Kazuichi gives a small hiss of pain despite the lightness of Hajime’s touch, but allows Hajime to clean him up.

When he’s finished, Hajime returns to the en suite, dumps out the water, now tinged a faint pink with blood. He refills the dish with cold water and grabs a clean washcloth, bringing both back to Kazuichi to put over his bruised eye.

‘You can stay here tonight if you don’t wanna go home yet,’ Hajime says. ‘My parents won’t know you’re here, but you’ll have to go out the window in the morning.’

The matter of fact way he says this causes Kazuichi to quirk an eyebrow at him. ‘You sound like you’ve done this before.’

‘Yeah, I like to bring injured boys home with me and soothe them back to health,’ Hajime jokes, artfully dodging an actual answer.

‘Awww, and here I thought I was special.’

Hajime snorts. ‘You’re the only one who’s been here before, if that helps.’ The words stir up a memory in him, and he gets to his feet.

He stands before his dresser for a moment, before gripping one end of it and shoving. It scrapes across the polished wood floor, but doesn’t go far. He tries again, arms straining.

‘What are you doing?’ Kazuichi asks. He approaches nevertheless and Hajime moves aside as Kazuichi shoves the dresser aside with much less effort. Then he turns to Hajime, expression questioning, and Hajime simply smiles and inclines his head towards the now exposed wall.

It’s the same spotless shade of cream as the rest of the room, except for one small patch at the very bottom. This is a faded pink colour, old paint that was skirted around instead of being painted over in the intervening years of redecorating between then and now.

On this small patch of old paintwork is a clumsy drawing of a car, done in marker pen. Beside it are two stick figures. One with black hair, one with brown. One wears glasses, and one has two different coloured eyes. Neither of them are wearing a dress.

Kazuichi lets out a snort of surprised mirth. ‘I remember that! Man, you freaked out so much when you realised how pissed your mom was gonna be.’ He turns shining eyes on Hajime. ‘Why is it still here?’

Hajime shrugs. He doesn’t really know why he refused to paint over the childish drawings put there by himself and Kazuichi when they were no older than ten. His mother never saw it, because he made sure to always keep it covered. After a while, it sort of became his own little secret. Something that was all his and that she knew nothing about. He didn’t want her to take it away from him, to impose her will on this tiny section of wall the same way she did on every other aspect of his life.

This was his.

Kazuichi keeps looking at the drawing for a while, smiling. At last, he returns to sit on the bed, soaks the washcloth in the cold water and places it back over his eye.

Hajime sits beside him. His eyes are on the drawing, but his mind is in the past.

He would never say his childhood was happy, but it was certainly freer. Back when there were less expectations on him. When he was allowed to run around climb trees and play in garages and only received scoldings for causing a mess and not for being unladylike or causing embarrassment. Back when no one cared that the child of a wealthy and powerful family was best friends with the child of a simple mechanic with a habit of drinking too much and raising his voice.

The Hajime of his childhood was a much truer version of the Hajime that exists now, and he can trace all of his growing unhappiness right down to the moment his parents enrolled him in private school while Kazuichi went to a public school, and it was no longer viewed as acceptable for them to be friends.

‘I missed you,’ Hajime says at last.

‘Yeah.’ Kazuichi’s voice is almost a whisper, the sound of tears lurking beneath it. ‘I missed you too.’

Hajime turns to face him, concerned. There are tears swimming in Kazuichi’s eyes and he’s wringing the washcloth out in his lap, not seeming to care that drops of cold water are running down his arms and splattering onto his legs.

‘Kaz? What’s wrong?’

‘I have this—’ He stops. Swallows. Continues. ‘Had. I had this friend. In school. He was my best friend. Only he didn’t... He didn’t really care about me. He was just using me. He was the only real friend I had and he did that to me and now I’ve got no one.’

Fury rises up in Hajime’s chest. He’s had his fair share of mistreatment in school, but how anyone could take advantage of someone like Kazuichi, someone so kind and sweet, so willing to sacrifice anything for someone he cares about. He can’t understand it.

Hajime shakes his head. ‘That’s not true.’ He reaches between them to wipe tears from Kazuichi’s cheek with his thumb, and then pulls Kazuichi into a hug. He wraps his arms tight around him, feels the way Kazuichi’s chest hitches with his sobs, muffled now against Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime rubs Kazuichi’s back. His eyes are on the drawing, one moment of friendship preserved in time, unable to let go of it. He’s not letting go of Kazuichi this time, no matter what. ‘ You’ve got me. You’ll always have me.’

#context for anyone who might be confused: Hajime is dfab and his parents Suck #{ ultimate hope 2.0 | ic }#{ ultimate mechanic }#{ modern AU | verse: Youtube AU }#Hajime and Kaz tbt #writing tag tba #mediioxumate #abuse tw #child abuse tw #gender dysphoria tw #mental illness tw

2 notes · View notes

qhostqizmo · 5 years ago

Text

Promises to Keep

This is sorta the alternative to Something to come. I avoided putting Too Much in this but, it’s sorta the less chatty, less openly emotionally charged, more internal dialogue version of feelsies I have in mind.

Still love it tho I’ll be damned this made me tear up lmao

- - - - - - - - - -

What changed?

He could see it; feel it, smell it like rain before a storm. It was in her posture, and in her eyes. There was nothing to compare it to. Even when he had first met her; gutsy, defensive, and yet warm, she never gave off the impression she was now. It was like she had given up. A barricade between them. An aching loneliness in her gaze; a mysterious aura of isolation, a sense that he was at sea, and she was slowly drifting further and further out of his reach.

What had he done? How could he fix this?

He missed the way Essätha’s fingers remained on his for longer then necessary. Or how she stood so close to him, he could smell the bouquet of fresh cut flowers on her skin. His chest ached; missing her arms around him, her eyes, her smile that felt like it punctured through his walls and lit him up from the inside. He bathed in fire, and found his strength.

With every ounce of that might, he would fight for her. He had very little worthy of holding on to; a manor, honor, pride, things in his name not earned but thrust and given to him by birth. Now, with Abernathy gone, it felt like more and more was unraveling by the day. There was less and less to cling to; less and less to trust.

Try as Amon might, he could not recover from the ancient gates that had been opened. His heart was vulnerable now. They had pried him open,;a stubborn shell, to reveal the ugly, and the beautiful (or so Essie had called it). He was just a man with his sins upon the floor, and a bunch of loud, obnoxious, frankly weird village of idiots he found he liked and appreciated more and more each day, with two very exceptional and very close individuals in particular.

One was gone. One remained, but felt less and less with him by the day.

He had lost enough in his life.

He would not lose her friendship, too.

For the first time in days, he thought he saw a glimpse of something that she tried to hide from him. Not the hurt, which was more obvious then ever truthfully, but the light. The magnificence of her, shining through.

Relief. Relief shining through her expression; eyes closed, the smallest smile tugging on her lips. Pelor mocked him with the perfect faded lighting behind her silhouette, and she was softly aglow.

Her eyes opened as she exhaled a deep breath. The world stopped moving as her butterscotch regard rested on him. The nobleman’s every thought became disoriented; thrown off his axis, his brain a mash of scrambled eggs.

She was an angelic vision. A guardian angel, watching over him.

As quickly as his entire world had unfolded in her soft eyes, it vanished. The creeping tendrils of fear and sorrow latched on to her face once more. Her posture slumped. The light in her gaze faltered, and died out like campfire embers. The hurt had returned, and she tore her face away to stare into the distance.

What are you searching for?

Gods, he would give up everything he had just to wrap her up in a tender embrace, and feel her hold him, too. He would promise her the world and is majesties, and swear that whatever was making her hurt, he would fix it. He would fix it; he would pledge, he would take an oath, he would fight all of her wars, bring her everything to make her smile and spark that joy inside of her. Whatever it took. Just please, he wanted to beg, please don’t throw me aside. Please don’t leave me; don’t forget me, don’t leave me behind.

Please be you again. Soft and sweet and bold, daring and wild and funny. Charming as a snake (hah), and witty with your banter. Be chaotic, and gentle, and feisty. Challenge the world; challenge me. Be the Essätha I know you are. Be you. Just be you, and nobody else. No walls, no doubts. Trust in me.

I’ll be me, and you’ll be you, and let’s be us, together.

Fearful as he was of her rejection, Amon swallowed his terror and stepped closer to her her side. She grew more tense, and more rigid in his approach.

He reached for her hand. She did not swat him away, as he worried she might.

Lacing his fingers through hers, he gave her a gentle squeeze.

Essie returned the gesture tightly; desperately… before letting her hand go slack in his.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice unnecessary husky, and holding an embarrassing tremble at the end.

She looked to him. Her golden eyes were sketched with too many emotions to count, but all of them rounded back to the same conclusion: pain.

“… I…” She swallowed deeply, offering him a ghostly thin smile. “Yes, why do you ask?”

Because you aren’t fine, and I can tell. Because you’re holding something back from me. Because I know you, and this is not the Essätha Meduza I love.

He bit the inside of his cheek to restrain the words, before commenting with soft concern, “You’ve just been acting… different. Avoiding me. Quiet. Detached. Did… Did I do something; say something-”

Her eyes brimmed with alarm, and she moved to tug her hand free. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Essie-”

“It’s not you, it’s me-”

“Essätha, please,” he choked, tightening his grasp on her hand to halt her escape. His breathing escalated; not nearly as sharply as hers, but loud, and gasping. Her eyes were like saucers upon him; a deer caught beneath the sight of a bow.

“Please.” He ran his tongue nervously over his lips. “Please don’t run from me.” His grip loosened, allowing her the freedom to leave him, if she wished it.

“Please don’t… don’t leave me,” the nobleman murmured hoarsely. “You can talk to me. You can always talk to me. Nothing you say to me is going to turn me away. Not now, not ever. I am here for you… If you choose me to be worthy enough to listen.”

She appeared more distressed then ever. Tearing her eyes off his, her breathing hitched. She was shaking. The pain in her eyes increased by the thousands.

“You are worthy of a great many things, m’lord Amon,” Essätha breathed in a small voice, “but this is not about being worthy. It’s not about you. It’s… about me.” She bites her lower lip, an act that is usually quite alluring on her, but right now it’s just agonizing; matching the anguish in her eyes.

“Tell me,” he implored, holding her hand close.

Sighing heavily, she tugged her hand free of his. The rejection left him cold. The barrier between them felt like a rift cutting through the planet itself.

“It’s nothing,” she replies flatly. A pause. “Maybe you’re worthy but… I’m not worth much,” she mumbles, her shoulders sagging.

“You’re worth everything to me.”

The words fall out of the nobleman before he can reel them in, or bite his tongue. Amon’s face instantly takes on a pinkish glow, mouth hanging open at his own idiocy.

Essätha whips her head around to face him. She, too, is flush.

“I… I…” She blinks, her hands fidgeting together. “I… I-I-”

Oh Gods, she was beautiful.

Still tripping over her whimpered words, the nobleman offered himself, arms open, and took a step forward.

She did not run from him. She turned her head away, just enough. Shy. Fragile. Insecure. Scared.

He wanted to rip that feeling away from her, forever. She had nothing to fear; not from him. He’d never hurt her; not intentionally, and if he ever did he would do everything in his power to make it right.

With a sniffle, Essätha allowed him to fold her into his embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Just like she did to him. He rubbed his hands over her back; mirrored learned behavior, remembering how wonderful it felt to have her do this to him.

A broken gasp escaped her, and she clung to him; arms suddenly gripping to him with all their strength.

“Shhh… it’s going to be alright,” Amon whispered, cradling her close.

A muffled sob escaped her, clutching to him even tighter with her trembling grasp.

Lifting his head, the nobleman rested his chin on top of her head, shushing her in a soft lull as he held her close.

“It’s going to be alright, Essie.”

I promise.

#qhost story #Essatha Meduza #Amon Illiad #OTP: Essamon #painfully written

3 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 5 years ago

Photo

Emitaï (1971, Senegal)

In 1963, Borom Sarret became the first African film to be directed a black African. I imagine many people reading that last sentence are thinking to themselves, “what took so long?” Simple: colonial governments forbade film productions by native Africans. With Senegal becoming independent from France in 1960, this allowed Ousmane Sembène to be the first black African director on a short (Borom Sarret) and a feature-length film (1966’s Black Girl). Before Borom Sarret, Sembène was primarily an author residing in France (he smuggled himself to Paris in 1947) – his literary works commented on colonialism, racism, identity, and tribal relations. Around 1960, Sembène found himself fascinated with films and wished to experiment in how to express his ideas through a visual medium. Studying filmmaking for a year in Moscow gave him the skill needed to return to Senegal, intent on crafting films for his fellow Senegalese (Senegal recorded a 51.9% literacy rate in 2017, so Sembène’s writing was inaccessible to many), to help them see and understand the lives and cultures similar or dissimilar to their own.

Sembène, born to a Lebou family among fellow tribespersons, turns his focus to the Diola – an ethnic minority also known as Jola – people for Emitaï (sometimes translated to “God of Thunder”, but it refers to a supreme, remote being). The Diola have a language quite different from Wolof, Senegal’s lingua franca, and the Diola language has several dialects. While directing Emitaï, Sembène learned the specific dialect used by the villagers used as extras in this film. That local dialect is the language used in the film, not Wolof as many websites and film databases online claim. Here, we learn how – through the Diola’s culture – they comprehend and react to the dilemma they contend with in this film. Soon enough, the audience learns of the spiritual richness of the tribe depicted and witnesses the French characters’ contempt towards the Diola’s way of life. Emitaï is a remarkable film, paced to the tempo of life in a rural village, and deeply attuned to storytelling traditions not often honored in film.

Somewhere in the Casamance region of Senegal, black Vichy French soldiers are abducting several Diola tribesman, forcibly conscripting them into service. Vichy France fought with the Axis powers, as it was a puppet state of Nazi Germany. Back in the village, the tribal elders are discussing if they should respond, given that these abductions are interfering with the rice harvest. No action is taken and the film progresses one year. It is the summer of 1944. French colonial officers – Robert Fontaine (“Monsieur” in Black Girl) as the Commandant, Michel Remaudeau the Lieutenant (as well as cinematographer), Pierre Blanchard the Colonel – follow orders to enforce a severe rice tax on tribal villages. They dispatch a detachment of black troops to that Diola village to levy said tax (this detachment includes the men abducted the prior year). As the conscripts round up the locals, the tribal leaders consult their animistic gods and the women rebel against the French officers and the tribesmen-turned-soldiers.

Emitaï tells its story at its own pace. The camera is kept apart from tribespersons and French soldiers alike, keeping them in a full or medium shot, rarely employing close-ups. The surrounding nature is depicted to suggest the villagers’ relationship with nature. Winds sigh through the trees and tall grasses, the nearby marshes (maybe unclaimed by agriculture) form the background for the rice harvesting scenes, and we hear nothing but the sloshes of water during a boating scene. Conversations between individuals, a group, or antagonistic groups develop, intensify, and subside without a cut taking the viewer to someplace else. The conversations are self-contained within the seconds or minutes they occur between characters or groups; the effectiveness of these scene is thanks to the fact that the characters believably are without certain knowledge about what is happening in other parts of the village. There are no knowing winks to others (or the audience), no clever asides that would feel inappropriate in a tale of colonial oppression. Yet, Sembène’s film never putters in philosophical circles nor feels plodding. Less patient filmmakers or those who too stubbornly subscribe to postmodernism might feel unsettled here, wishing to whisk the audience from a scene before a Major Plot Reveal (this might be culturally compatible with Sembène’s or the Diola’s understanding of how they share stories) with their itchy fingers. Sembène uses this time to help viewers learn about the Diola. Whether one might be a non-Diola from Senegal or from the other side of the Earth, we learn basic aspects about Diola culture that amplifies how we feel when we see the villagers being rounded up and young, able-bodied men who just happened to evade French capture taking arms against African-wielded, European-engineered munitions.

The Diola worship and fear their gods, and the rice they harvest is not only for themselves, but used as an offering to their gods. And as the tribal elders communicate with the gods, the quality of their rice harvest may impact how their gods converse with them – there is one fantastical sequence where this occurs. Some viewers might see the dialogue with the gods as a delusion, an unnecessary detour in an allegedly straightforward colonizer-versus-colonized narrative. But recall that Sembène wanted to make films so that his fellow Senegalese – no matter their ethnicity, linguistic skills, or religion – could empathize or see their histories onscreen. The Diola believe in these animistic gods to keep their families and villages at peace (although – though not portrayed in the film – some Christian and Islamic influences have been introduced), to guide them when an enemy is bearing down on them. Who are we to say they are wrong for doing so? Sembène, who also wrote the screenplay, may not have been Diola himself, but he clearly showed enough respect and attention to them that he would allow their gods have a presence in Emitaï. A Diola did not write Emitaï, but those moments with the gods – a daring decision that I am unaware has any such parallels in a colonizer-versus-colonized film – and the inclusion of a few funeral ceremony scenes complement the “voice” of the Diola. Traditions of African folk stories and religions are prevalent in how Emitaï is shot and how its story unfolds – including, as a pervasive convention in these traditions, a tree that connects humans to a spiritual plane.

The tribal leaders in Emitaï appear to be all men. The women of the village are mostly seen as tending to the children, as well as performing the bulk of the rice harvest. They are the first to be detained by the forcibly conscripted soldiers, but not in a position of distress. After a skirmish between some of the young, uncaptured men and the French forces, the women arrange an impromptu funeral procession for one of the fallen tribal leaders. They sing what sound like celebratory, not mournful, songs – perhaps for a life well lived, bravery in defending the Diola way of life. What should be uncontroversial becomes rebellion. With forcible conscription may result in further encroachments on Diola culture. Already their sacred harvest is disrupted, so what might be next? In Black Girl, Sembène’s feminist arguments circulated around personal discontent and racial subjugation. Though not nearly as intimately portrayed here, Emitaï expands on those themes – showing us the solidarity of the oppressed women. None of the black characters in Emitaï are professional actors and none of the women are given character names. Nameless though they may be (perhaps this was an attempt to “universalize” the film to the tribal peoples of Senegal), the village’s women seldom appear helpless as the conscripted soldiers force them into position by the sides of their rifles or the French officers barking at them about the location of hidden rice. Unarmed and forced to sit in the baking sun, they are stronger that anyone might guess.

Their understanding of “the white man’s war” is limited and the Diola feel little responsibility in helping the French officers fight it. A message delivered in the final minutes reveals that Marshal Philippe Pétain (Vichy France’s leader) has been deposed by Charles de Gaulle, meaning that the Allies have liberated France from the Axis (Sembène – who himself was drafted into France’s colonial infantry and later served among the Free French Forces – makes a cameo appearance here as the soldier ridiculing de Gaulle for being ranked lower than Pétain). Leadership has changed thousands of miles away, but the situation for all the native Africans – soldiers and civilians alike – is unchanged. Allied victory has brought not liberation, but a new poster of some mustachioed, uptight Frenchman who just happens to now be in charge. The casual cruelty and cultural ignorance on display by the French – as they complain of the backwardness of where they are stationed and how the most consequential decisions are being made by military bureaucracy – is rather restrained. Though it would be difficult to recall any nobility among the French soldiers, they do possess a cartoonish, outward malice. Sembène castigates the French characters and colonialism not through soliloquies, but their escalations and actions. Emitaï’s most violent moment is never shown on-camera, yet it was enough to provoke French censors to scrub the scene (among others). Ironically, despite Senegal’s independence from France eleven years prior, this meant the film could not be released in its entirety in France or French-speaking Africa until 1976 – five years after its debut at the Moscow International Film Festival.

Nor did Sembène catch a break from Senegalese censors. President Léopold Senghor’s regime censored Sembène’s films regularly: Sembène’s next feature, Xala (1975), excoriated colonialist institutions that remained in Senegal post-independence and its lead actor was chosen partly due to his resemblance to President Senghor (it doesn’t help that the plot revolves around the lead character looking for a cure for his sudden impotence). In the case of Emitaï, the reasons are not readily available, but the censorship most likely was targeted towards how the forcibly conscripted soldiers are depicted. The dynamic that the Senegalese censors singled out in Emitaï would be multiplied and inflamed by Sembène’s Ceddo (1977) – that film is set shortly after France establishes a colonial government in Senegal; there, Sembène draws parallels between that film’s tribal leaders and future Africans who would conspire with European slave traders (the Senegalese government’s perceptions that the film criticized Senegal’s political leadership and bourgeoisie was accurate, but that is a story to be told when I review Ceddo).

An unofficial sequel to Emitaï was released in 1988, Camp de Thiaroye. That film touched upon many of the themes Sembène remarks upon in Emitaï: the destruction of identity among African soldiers in the French military, violence in the name of colonialism, and structures of racial supremacy. It, too, was censored in France and Senegal upon release. But by Emitaï, Sembène’s cinematic style – freed from the constraints of speech and linguistic barriers – had become crystallized. Like his prior works, Emitaï is uncompromising in its depiction of human cruelty and how that is manifested in colonial or neocolonial paradigms. He criticizes so effectively by juxtaposing behavior, not through rhetoric – it matters not if the oppressor is white (as they almost always are in his films) or black. Away from urban settings, his pacing adapts to the surrounding environment, the slow and seasonal life of the Diola village. Many who see Emitaï will not recognize much of the life and culture of the Diola. It is a testament to Sembène that he makes this biting film so empathic and compelling.

My rating: 9/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

#Emitai #Emitaï #Ousmane Sembene #Ousmane Sembène #TCM #Andongo Diabon #Robert Fontaine #Michel Renaudeau #Ousmane Camara #Ibou Camara #Alphonse Diatta #Pierre Blanchard #Cherif Tamba #Fode Cambay #Michel Remaudeau #My Movie Odyssey

4 notes · View notes

the-marvel-imagines-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Madness | Chpt. 24

Chapter Title: “The Greatest Weakness”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (Eva)

Word Count: 8,489

Warnings: I’m still sorry, but warnings would be too spoiler-y.

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

Summary: Her.

A/N: The time has come. Once again, thank you all so, so, so much for reading <3

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

*Loki’s POV*

She had already begun tangling her bare body in the covers, and I smiled down at her, still pressing kisses against glowing, sun-kissed skin. The light from the moon and stars seeped into the room from the balcony, but I dared not gaze up at their magnificence for fear that the goddess in my chambers would disappear the moment my eyes left her sleeping form. The past weeks, Eva had seemingly grown even more beautiful than before, which I thought to be impossible. Her skin would glow under the midday sun on our strolls through the garden. Her eyes were a more vibrant green, and she visited the sweet shop in the village nearly every day, dragging me along with her. She would spend just as much time in there as we had as children when Aaldir would give her a small bag of coins and send us out into the village to spend them as we pleased. As children, we spent so much time roaming the aisles of the small shop, racks of sweets lining the wall from the floor to the ceiling. Even then, I found more pleasure watching the reflection of the sweets in her eyes than choosing for the ones I wanted.

In our more recent visits to the same shop, she would stand closer to me, allowing me to wrap my arms around her when she stopped to gaze at the hundreds of choices. When I would press a kiss to the top of her head, her laugh was sweeter than every piece of candy in the little shop combined. The shopkeeper hadn’t asked for any payment, no matter how much Eva insisted. All he did was smile and politely decline the payment. It happened each and every time, the smile only growing as time passed. She looked to be filled with more happiness and life than ever before, but I attributed that to the current hopefulness that I had been feeling. Eva and I were tied to each other, our individual moods directly impacting the others. I had recently spoken with her father once again, just as I had so many years prior, and I kept the ring my mother had forged for the occasion close. Hjalmar and I had spoken to each other recently about my upcoming proposal, but all that was left was the conversation I would have with my father the following day.

Then, I wouldn’t have to hide the ring any longer, and she would be its new keeper.

I pressed one last kiss to her bare shoulder before untangling our bodies and slipping my body from her tight grasp. She shifted as I rose from the bed, and I froze in place, hoping that it wouldn’t wake her up. She had been fatigued more often than not lately, so I was even more careful to not disturb her rest. Once she found another comfortable position, she let out a deep sigh before falling even deeper into her peaceful slumber. I rose from the bed, pulling on some clothes to maintain my modesty. Usually, I would’ve taken the sheets, but she was so tangled up in them that if I had tried to slip them from her, she would have woken up. Rising to my feet, clad in nothing more than a pair of loose-fitting trousers, I walked over to the desk her father had made for me long before. Within the top drawer, the ring had been hidden within a stack of papers between the first poem she ever wrote for me and the first poem I’d ever written for her. That had been where our love blossomed, and the ring symbolized the new journey our love would embark on.

Reaching for it, I pulled it out, once more admiring the craftsmanship of it. All I did was tell my mother what I wanted, and she saw to it that it was created in my image. Every night after we made love, I’d find the ring, debating on whether or not to ask for her hand time and time again. It was the purest act of love, and the intensity of my emotions drove me to the point of wanting to ask her to marry me each night. I stared down at the ring, feeling the butterflies in my chest, knowing that my proposal would happen the following day after my discussion with my father. While he had never been partial to me, I had so much hope that he would see how happy she made me, and maybe that would be enough. I knew the words I wanted to say to her when I asked her to marry me. I’d been rehearsing them since the day we met as children. Even as a child, I knew that there would come a day when I would make her my princess, that she would someday be my wife. Throughout the years, the individual paths of our lives merged and become one and the same.

Knowing how quickly she could wake up and see the surprise that was meant for the next day, I placed the ring back in its hiding spot before padding over to the balcony. I had spent my whole life rehearsing the words I would say to Eva when I asked her to be mine, but I hadn’t given much thought to how I would ask my father. I’d asked everyone else in our lives, everyone else who was close to Eva. My father, however, was the deciding force. What would I say to him? How would I approach such a question? Was it customary for me to come out and ask him? Would it have been too formal? Did he want me to approach him as the Allfather or as my father? Would it have been too inappropriate to tell him how deeply my love ran for her, how it was a part of my very being? Should I show him what I had tried to hide for so long-the side of me who was enthralled by a woman who was deemed a “peasant?”

As I lost myself deep in thought, I didn’t feel her approaching warmth until those slender arms wrapped around my waist, “why do you stand out here all alone with your thoughts?” she asked, clearly having sensed some of my uncertainty and distress. I knew that my movement hadn’t woken her up, but it never took very long for her to feel my absence and crawl out of bed to find me. She pressed her soft lips to my back, pressing the gentlest kisses against my skin before I turned around and wrapped my arms around her body. Gods, she was so delicate, so soft, so warm. Forcing a smile, no matter how badly I wanted to, would’ve been a futile attempt at covering up my anticipation for the following day. She could see right through me. Reaching up and cupping my cheek with one of her hands, she kept the other locked around my waist, continuing to hold us close, “I can carry this with you, you know,” she reminded me.

“I know you would, my love, but you also know me. I like to lose myself in my thoughts,” I said, not technically lying to her but just not giving her every ounce of the truth. I had, in fact, been lost in thought, but it wasn’t nothing as I tried to insinuate it being. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips, knowing that it would be the only way to soothe her, to keep her from worrying that something was wrong. Melting into the kiss and melting further into my arms, my grasp tightened around her waist, keeping her body pressed against mine. While I had been the one to initiate the kiss, the gentle caress of her fingers on my jaw made me a slave to her. Her lips were intoxicating, leaving me dazed and euphoric each time I had even the slightest taste of them. When she pulled her lips from mine, I took our moment of silent reflection to plant a kiss to her forehead. She rested her head against my chest, her ear pressed to my heart to listen to the steady rhythm. She had taken the sheet with her when she left the bed, and it was wrapped around her like a makeshift dress, “I checked on Tony earlier today,” I noted, remembering what I’d forgotten to tell her earlier.

“And what did Heimdall say?” she asked, gazing out at the beautiful horizon.

I frowned, knowing that my words would only cause her heart to grow heavy, but I couldn’t keep it from her. Heimdall was usually much gentler with her. He would give me the facts, no matter how difficult they were to process, and I’d relay them to her as gently as possible. She was strong enough to handle them, but he couldn’t bring himself to break her heart, “he’s still having nightmares. His captivity is still fresh even though it’s been months. He may need you again soon,” I answered, knowing that if she could, she would leave immediately to be with him, but that wasn’t what was best for him. If she was so protective over Tony, I wondered how fiercely she’d love our future children. The thoughts excited me, but they also concerned me. She had proven time and again that she would sacrifice her life for Tony, and bringing more people into the fold could prove to be dangerous.

“I fear that my presence is putting an even greater burden on him,” she sighed, airing out the thoughts in her mind. She never tried to keep things from me, as there was never a need to do so. We shared everything-aside from the obvious surprise that I had for her. I felt the conflict growing within her as she continued to process my words, her emotions fluctuating between the uncertainty, sorrow, and guilt, “each time I return, I give him the memories back so that he’ll let me comfort him, but each time I leave, I have to take those memories away once more. I fear it’s causing him more distress in the long run. What if I’m the worst thing for him?”

I shook my head, “you’re his person, Eva, just as you are mine. You guide him through these turbulent times in his life, and, even though he doesn’t remember how he made it through, it’s because you were by his side,” I argued, understanding her hesitation and worries. All we ever wanted was what was best for him. We both had deep connections to Howard and Maria, but neither of us expected just how much we would fall in love with Tony when he came along. Seeing Eva with him, the day he was born, made me realize just how deeply I desired a family with her. He had been crying up until the moment Howard handed him over to Eva, and that was the moment they clicked. He became the closest thing we had to a child, and we both cherished him. She always tread so lightly when it pertained to things of that nature, decisions that involved him. When she made the choice to wipe his memory of us, it was what was best for him. I could remember the way she cried that night, the way she secluded herself from everyone, even me. She had been so heartbroken, so devastated. Each time she returned from seeing Tony, it was something similar, almost like she was losing him all over again. Then, there were times when I knew she couldn’t do it, so I would go in her place, “do you want me to go with you this time?”

“I’ll visit him tomorrow when you speak with your father,” she replied, swallowing back the lump in her throat that always showed up when we spoke of Tony. She was a worrier, and she placed the most important people in her life at the center of her universe. I was lucky enough to be a part of that group, and so was Tony. The subject was a touchy one, but she managed to pull through with nothing more than a few tears and some rampant emotions that she’d be able to contain quickly. Clearing her throat, she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, “for now, though, come back to bed with me,” she urged, reaching for one of my hands and intertwining our fingers before pulling me back into my chambers, the cool midnight breeze carrying us back to the bed we shared.

I took my spot in the bed first, upon her unspoken request. She waited until I crawled into the bed and found a comfortable position before she curled up with me, nestling her body into my warmth. We laid in silence as she listened to the steady beating of my heart. She was anxious. I felt it. She was lost in thought about the outcome of tomorrow, just as I had been, but we were anxious for separate reasons. The way she clung to me was the way I would end up clinging to her in the middle of the night, holding onto the only thing that ever felt real but also the only thing that ever felt so perfect that it could’ve very well been a dream. Her fingers danced along my bare chest, tracing letters and shapes into my skin, “I love you, Loki, you know that, right?” she asked like it was possible for me to forget. It was hard to believe sometimes, but I never forgot or doubted her. She never gave me any reason to do so. Still, in those moments of uncertainty, she often pegged it on herself, as if she was somehow failing at showing me all the love I didn’t deserve.

“And I love you more,” I replied, using the words we always did. It was especially moving when we rode off into battle together. She’d bring her pale white horse up to mine and lean over to kiss me, pulling me into our own silent moment before the chaos of battle ensued, and she’d tell me that she loved me. My response was always the same: I love you more.

She propped herself up on her elbow, her brown curls cascading across my chest. Her emerald eyes were filled with hope and a hint of desperation. She knew that something was off. It was impossible to hide my troubled mind from her because we could feel the change in each other as if it were a change within ourselves, “please, then, open up to me. I can see that something is on your mind. Something is plaguing you. You should know by now that nothing you say will make me love you any less,” she reminded me, her words being ones that comforted me.

Still, I couldn’t tell her what troubled me. I couldn’t tell her how nervous I was about asking my father for his blessing to propose to her. Unlike everything in my life, this wasn’t something I could share with her. Instead, I just grinned up at her, “I was just wondering which of our future children will manage to steal the covers more than you do!” I teased her.

The smile that spread across her lips was enough to wash away every ounce of my anxiety. I no longer cared about my upcoming talk with my father. I no longer flitted through the possible scenarios, which only frightened me even more. When she was with me, looking at me the way she did, I couldn’t think of anything else but her. I treated every glimpse I had of her like it was my last, like she was my final breath of sweet air before I parted this life. An angelic laugh escaped her lips, “oh, you’re one to speak!” she playfully pushed my arm.

Looking up into those eyes, those captivating, wonder-filled eyes, it finally dawned on me. Solemnity fell over me as she continued to smile. I questioned what great deeds I had done to be blessed with a woman more regal than a queen, sweeter than a lady, more delicate than a flower, more radiant than a star, more powerful than an army. It was the moment I saw our future in her eyes, and I was excited, “I want them to be like you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, tears rising to her eyes like they always had when we talked of our future children, a family I was more than ready to start immediately, “and what’s so wrong with you? Why can’t they be like their father?” she asked.

“I don’t want them to be like me, not with all I’ve done,” I voiced my insecurities.

Eva didn’t even need to hear my words in order to silence my doubts. The pained look in her eyes when I spoke was enough to make me rethink the words that had just been upon my lips. She spoke, “we’ve both done things we’re not proud of. We’ve both taken lives on the battlefield, and no matter how worthy a cause we were fighting for, we left pieces of our innocence there. You and I have both made mistakes, but your light still shines so bright, Loki. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I don’t understand how you can loathe the person I love so dearly, the person who brings me more joy than anyone else ever has, the one I want to share every moment of every day with,” she murmured, her eyes becoming brighter as her thoughts swirled around her head. I saw the life blossoming within her as her passion shined through. She smiled once more, “I want our children to be just like you. I want them to be poetic, graceful, funny, and full of life. I want them to be these beautiful, feral children who know not of the chains we are bound by. I want them to run free, turning the world into their own personal adventure. I want them to be curious like you. I want them to be creative. I want them to know no binds aside from that which connects us to all living things: love. I want them to be just like you, Loki: strong, capable, fierce, and loving beyond words.”

“Nova,” I mused, testing the name once more on my tongue. It was the name for our future son. I smiled at the mere sound of it, “the new beginning,” I added.

“And Aurora,” Eva replied, a lone tear cascading down her cheek as her smile became even more radiant than before. I knew how emotional-how passionate-she became when speaking of our future family. There were so many other names, but she was especially connected to the one for our first daughter. Her eyes fluttered closed as she envisioned what she would look like, “she’d have your hair and my eyes. She’ll be the dawn of a new day.”

*Steve’s POV*

Everyone in the tower was exhausted. Between trying to keep Thor under control and sitting vigil at Eva’s bedside, no one was getting enough sleep. I could still remember Tony’s panicked, fear-filled voice when he called to tell Bruce to meet him at the Avengers tower as soon as possible. Bruce, of course, began panicking, thinking that something happened to Tony, but our worst fears surfaced when Tony uttered only two words: “It’s Eva.” That was all any of us needed to know. I couldn’t stay away-none of us could-so we packed up and left for the tower in the heart of the city. When I first saw her, it was nothing short of horrific. Eva had always been, since we met at the expo, the woman I was madly, deeply, purely in love with, but I was always more than aware that I’d never have that one chance I so desperately wanted from her. Underneath the romantic love I harbored for her, though, was a platonic love. She was my family, the one touchstone to my past that I had left. She was my world, and I had to see it crumble before my very eyes.

Thor had been the one to restart her heart, but Tony and Bruce were the ones who struggled every single day for the past week and a half to bring her back-to keep her alive. She just wasn’t waking up. In the short time that I’d known her in the 40’s, she was this immovable force. She did nothing she didn’t want to do, and that showed once more when we reconnected in New York when we fought Loki’s army together. Her stubbornness was endearing up until her life depended on it. She was proving to be just as immovable as she was so long ago. It was just another reminder of what I had missed for so long. We all sat vigil at her bedside, never leaving her on her own for even a moment. What if that single moment had been the one where she opened her eyes? Aaldir, Eva’s father, had sat with her from the moment they arrived up until the moment he had to leave to take care of some of the promises she asked of him. Thor, on the other hand, refused to leave her side, much like Tony, until he was nearly forced away from her.

The most surprising sight, though-aside from finding Natasha curled up in bed next to Eva, sleeping silently with her red hair looking unkempt-happened right before I entered her room the last time, ready to sit with that goddess of a woman. She sat in the chair, staring at Eva’s peaceful face. It was the closest they had been in far too long, and though Eva had taken the memory of her from her mind, it was as if she could remember everything. It was as if she was reliving her past just by gazing upon Eva’s features. I was shocked that she’d even have the urge to be in the room since she didn’t “know” Eva, but it was clear when I saw the desperate look in her eyes. She felt the connection. She didn’t understand it, but she felt something. Clint was the one to remove her from the room, ushering her out into the living area where she would end up busying herself trying to keep Tony preoccupied, as his insistence on being with Eva was becoming more and more harmful to him. Hopefully, he’d be able to get some sleep with her around, but I knew better.

Over the past few days, the color had slowly begun to come back to Eva’s cheeks, but I was uncertain if it was my eyes playing tricks on me. A part of me wondered if it had all been just a part of my wishful thinking. She still looked so weak, so fragile. It was very unlike her, though. Eva had always been a force to be reckoned with, but when I fought my way to her side after Tony and Thor arrived with her, she looked so lifeless. As I sat by her bed, my hands enveloped the one at her side, “you know, I don’t even know if you can hear me, or if you’d even listen if you could. In a way, I hope you aren’t because you’ve done more than enough listening just in the time I’ve known you. You shouldn’t have to hear any more words out of my mouth, but...I can’t help but feel like I need to speak, or the silence is going to kill me,” I confessed to the sleeping beauty in the bed.

“Everyone here is worried sick, and I know that it’s the last thing you’d want. You’ve spent your life worrying about others, but you don’t like it when others worry about you. Thor isn’t handling it well. He keeps trying to bust in here every ten minutes, wanting to see if you’re okay, wanting to know if you’re awake. I think he’s blaming himself for what happened. Clint’s doing his best to keep everyone busy and preoccupied, but it’s only because he can pull himself together in the situations when everyone else is falling apart. If things go south, though, any...further south than they’ve already gone, he’ll be the first one to lose it, and I think I’d bet money on it,” I revealed to her as if she were wide awake. The one sided conversation wasn’t ideal, but it was what I needed, or I would lose it.

I yawned, the fatigue catching up to me quickly, “Natasha is keeping busy, but it’s like pulling teeth to get her away from you. Once she’s away, she’ll take a nap or two, but when she’s with you, that girl is stuck to your side like glue. She’s just as immovable as you,” I chuckled, thinking of the times I nearly had to pick Nat up and carry her out of the room, “Bruce hasn’t spoken much, but that’s understandable. Him and Tony were the ones who did some serious work on you when you got here. It was a situation he didn’t think he’d have to be in again, especially not with someone he admires the way he admires you. He’s taking it pretty hard, but I don’t think anyone has taken it as hard as Tony.”

I sighed, thinking of how disheveled Tony looked when I saw him, how exhausted he seemed whenever he spoke. He was constantly on the verge of passing out, and he was becoming more and more agitated the more time passed without any changes from Eva. He was becoming reckless, and it hurt to see him like that. I could still recall following him down to his workshop on that first night. Aaldir had removed Tony from Eva’s room, sensing that it was for the best that he try to get some sleep, but Tony decided to do anything but sleep. He went down to his lab, and I followed, wanting to be there to support him in the event that he needed it. However, all I did was witness him destroy his lab, his workshop, the place he treated as his sanctuary. He destroyed it and everything inside it. Once it was over, having stayed back and allowed him the opportunity to let out his anger and frustration, I made my presence known.

Never in my life had I seen a man break down like that before. I wanted to break down and cry. I wanted to scream and yell and blame someone for it. I wanted to go into a fit of rage. I wanted to be angry, but I had other people I needed to think about. I knew about the connection Eva had to Tony and vice versa, so his reaction was more than understandable, and it was part of the reason why I didn’t let my emotions out in a similar fashion. When I finally confronted Tony, he stood completely still, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked around at the chaos that took the place of his-usually tidy-workshop. The only words that came from his mouth as I pulled him into an embrace were: “it’s my fault.” It was enough to elicit the tears I’d been holding back, and the two of us shed tears of uncertainty with one another. All the while, I silenced his insistence that it was his fault. It wasn’t.

I cleared my throat, not wanting the tears to start again, “I know I shouldn’t be...giving you advice, but if you fight for anyone...it should be Tony,” I murmured, my bottom lip quivering as I attempted to hold back the ever-present tears. It was as if her situation was sinking in slowly, and the longer she went without waking up, the more real it all became, “the thing about Tony is that...you’re his whole world, Eva...just like you’re mine. He’s lost without you here, and losing you is going to break him. He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, but...everyone has their breaking point, and this is his. He’s scared of what life would look like without you. I’d be lying if I told you that we all weren’t just as worried, but I know you especially don’t want to leave him like this. I know the way you look at him, and...if there’s any part of you that’s able to fight, I’m asking that you do it for Tony. Do it for Loki, for her…” I trembled, the tears finally escaping my eyes as I gripped her hand.

“A part of me wants to ask you to fight for me, but...I can’t bring myself to ask anything more of you for the rest of my life. It’s unfair. I’ve missed you for far too long. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you or the dress you wore the night we met-the pretty blue one that made you look like a doll. I still thought of the white ribbon in your hair that matched the high heels you wore, the ones that made you that much taller than me. I thought of how red your lips were, almost as vibrant as the color of your eyes. If you told me then that you were from another planet, I would’ve believed you because I’d never seen someone so beautiful before in my life,” I laughed through the overwhelming emotions. My bottom lip continued to quiver, tears clinging to my lashes, “from the moment I left the expo to this very moment, you’ve been at the forefront of my mind. Your face has been the one I see when I close my eyes, and I don’t know if I can go back to missing you. I’ve missed you for long enough, Eva, so...even though it’s selfish, I’m asking you to fight for me, too.”

Knowing that tears would be the last thing she’d want, I tried to pull myself together, feeling more tired than ever. The energy we had all dumped into keeping each other stable was emotionally and physically draining. We were all terrified, but none of us talked about it with each other, almost as if talking about it would only make the situation more real, and we were desperately trying to treat it like a dream we would soon wake up from. I leaned down to press my lips to her knuckles, trying to will away the coolness of her skin. It wasn’t the warm touch I had committed to memory. Forcing a smile, I rested my head on her abdomen, careful to steer clear of the wound that not even Tony and Bruce could fix. Right before my eyes fluttered closed, I fixated them on her beautiful face, “besides, you still owe me a dance,” I recalled a memory that seemed so recent and yet too long ago all at once. Then, my eyes fluttered closed, and the darkness of sleep enveloped me where I held her in my arms and danced with her once more.

*Eva’s POV*

My head rested against Howard’s shoulder. We were in the living room of his home, the static of the record player filling the silence as we continued to sway back and forth with one another. He wouldn’t let me go, and I didn’t really want him to. All I wanted was a moment or two with the people I’d gone so long without. The only ones I hadn’t gotten to see were Hjalmar and Bucky, two of the people I wanted to see the most. Still, I found comfort in Howard’s arms. It had been far too long, and I had forgotten just how much I missed his gentle demeanor. He wasn’t always cruel and harsh, but that side of him seemed to come out more with Maria and Tony; however, the man who stood before me was the man I met before it all, the man I met at the Expo, the man who asked me to marry him the very first night we met. He was young again, but he still had all the wisdom of his later years. As we swayed back and forth, his left hand holding my right one against his chest, I listened for a heartbeat that wasn’t there, but his voice cut through the peaceful silence, “my son...I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for him. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve sacrificed to be by his side,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled away from him just enough to gaze up at him, “I look at none of what I did as a sacrifice. He is a gift, Howard, a miracle that you and Maria trusted me to look after, and all I can do is hope that I did it right.”

“How is he?” he asked, fighting back the emotion that was clear in his eyes. Howard wasn’t always good to Tony, but he loved his son.

“He’s...magical.”

“Is he better than me?” he pressed, pushing through the lump in his throat as his eyes watered.

I nodded my head, not even having to take a single second to think about it, “yes,” I answered honestly. Tony was a better man than Howard, but it didn’t mean that Howard was a bad man. Tony was the embodiment of all the good that was left in his father and so much more, “yes, he is,” I repeated, thinking of the man I had left behind, the man I didn’t know if I’d ever see again. I was selfish. Death-allowing myself the peace of it-would be my final choice and the only selfish one I’d ever made.

Howard nodded, a tear falling down his cheek, “then I’m proud,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he spoke of the man his son had become. Through his quivering lower lip, he spoke, “and that means you did do it right.”

The moment he spoke, I threw my arms around his neck, pulling our bodies close together, basking in the warmth I had missed from him. Howard was one of my very closest friends throughout my life. He had been one of the several who were born of the same star as me, and losing him was like losing a piece of myself. Losing him felt like I had cut out my heart and thrown it into the never-ending void. Being with him again-being back with so many of them-filled that void in my heart, but the longer I remained, the more the new void was growing. It was the one where the living still remained. It was as if I was losing them the same way I had once lost Howard and Charlotte and Maria and everyone else who had gone on before me. I held him as tightly as I could without breaking him, “I’ve missed this,” I noted, burying my face into his neck as I breathed in the sweet smell of him. It was similar to Tony’s. He smelled like his workshop.

“Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you,” Howard laughed, his voice still thick with emotions that he tried to suppress. He never liked being emotional, and that rang especially true when he was around me. He never needed to be a force of power when he was with me, but there had only been a small handful of times that I’d seen him cry. He grew silent, the pang of joy morphing into a bittersweetness that filled the very air around us. The sound of what he was about to say even drowned out the soft static of the record player. We just stood in the deafening silence, his body no longer swaying back and forth in that familiar rhythm, “you know you can’t stay, though, right?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, pulling away to gaze into his sad eyes. With my arms still wrapped around his neck, I took the opportunity to stroke the back of his neck like I did with Tony on more than one occasion. His stern, sad eyes stayed locked on mine, but they softened when he saw just how hopeful I was to have back even an ounce of what I once had. I cocked my head to the side, “would it be so bad if I did?” I asked, knowing from just our shortened visit with each other that he was just as eager to have this back as I was.

“It would,” that deep and familiar voice echoed out from behind me.

Hjalmar.

The moment I heard his voice, though, was the moment I was hurled back into the world of the living. My eyes shot open, and I pulled in a ragged breath like I hadn’t breathed in years. My eyes scanned the room I was in, and it looked so incredibly similar. We were back in New York at the tower. This was the room I’d spent a short stint in after the battle of New York as Tony looked me over to make sure I was okay. My near-death experience had frightened him, and he wouldn’t let me move until he made sure every wound was closed and every bruise was fading away. I could vividly remember how gentle his hands were and how delicately he treated me, as if I were a piece of fine china that, should he make even one wrong move, I would break into pieces.

Before I had the opportunity to grieve what I had lost-time with my brother-my eyes landed on the man in the room. The man out of time. The man who owned one of the brightest corners of my heart. Steve was slouched over in his chair, his head resting gingerly against my abdomen, careful not to graze the wound that was still so tender. The weakened state it left me in was still prevalent, but it no longer hurt the way it did at the beginning. I was unsure whether the pain became more tolerable after the intensity of the pain that the Extremis serum caused, or if the pain just faded with time. Either way, it was still uncomfortable, and I could tell that Steve had been cautious to not rest his head too close to it. Dark circles were visible beneath his closed eyes, and it was clear to see that he hadn’t slept well if he even slept at all. His left hand gripped the loose shirt I was in, balling it up in his hand that rested right in front of his face, nearly grazing his nose. His right hand was tucked beneath him and grasped my own.

He looked incredibly uncomfortable in the position, but I knew why he was doing it. I knew that it was just to be close to me, and I was grateful for that. If I had woken up to nothing but the empty walls staring back at me, I would’ve been far more willing to melt back into the nothingness I had. However, when I saw how desperate he looked, I knew that no matter what followed, I needed to fight. All that this life offered to me was embodied in the man before me. He embodied the life that I had grown comfortable without when I remembered what Death had taken from me, and in that moment, in the silence that fell over us, I heard my own heartbeat, and I remembered how beautiful this was. Nothing in death could compare to what I felt in life. It couldn’t compare to the wholeness I felt just looking upon the face of a man who had symbolized all that I loved about humanity.

I smiled down at him, the odd tear falling from my eye just as silently as the rain outside. I had no perception of time with the sky being as dark as it was. In the peace that Steve’s presence brought, all of the questions that threatened to plague my mind were set aside for the moment, and I lifted my left hand up to run my fingers through those silky smooth golden brown locks. I was careful not to wake him. Even though I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him until I was pried away from him, his gentle, calm breathing kept me from it. He deserved sleep, regardless of how deeply I’d missed him. I hadn’t been in his presence since New York, and I had missed him dearly. I missed the way the room became warmer each time he entered it, the way his body tensed if anyone even cast their gaze over to me, the way his body stiffened when our hands brushed against each other, the way the color rose to his cheeks when I caught his eye, the way he averted his gaze and cleared his throat when I caught him looking at me.

The grass ring Loki had made for me was still secured around the proper finger of my left hand, and I smiled down at it, my eyes flickering away from the peaceful face of one of the most beautiful men I’d ever met. Of all that I’d lost-including my own life-Loki’s promise for our future wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, without any warning, I felt the shift. It was an awakening-one I was familiar with. The pain in my abdomen disappeared just as quickly as it had begun. The pain was gone completely, and all that was left was the fluttering of those little butterflies. This was the love I forfeited once before, a love I nearly forfeited again. My heart skipped a beat, and as if he could feel the slightest change within me, Steve’s eyes fluttered open, meeting mine. He sat up quickly when he realized that my eyes were open, and it was clear at that moment that my fate had been questionable for some time. He blinked a few times and focused those ocean blue eyes on me, “am I dreaming?” he asked, tears welling up in his already puffy eyes. It was too clear that he’d been crying more often than not, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for prolonging the pain and worry that I’d caused.

I shook my head, the dam of emotions within me threatening to break. Every moment I wished to be close to him came rushing back, and that grief over not having him with me every moment of every day hit me all at once. My bottom lip quivered as I collected myself enough to speak, “I still owe you a dance,” I choked out before the tears began streaming down my cheeks. He gasped, struggling to hold back his own tears. I pulled my hand away from his, reaching up to stroke his silky smooth skin. The moment our skin touched, the first tear streamed down his cheek, and mine followed suit.

However, our moment of peace was cut short when the door to the room opened. Steve whipped around, disconnecting our bodies as that voice-the voice more moving than the vibrations of life itself-sounded, “Tony wanted me to ask you if…” her voice trailed off as her eyes met mine. Green eyes. The color of spring. The color of life. More vibrant than emeralds. My heart stopped.

Her.

She stood in disbelief, her body completely still, her eyes never once leaving mine. She paid no attention to Steve, the man she had originally meant to speak with. Instead, her eyes were locked on mine. As she took in every single one of my features, I watched as she tried to place me in her life. I watched as she struggled to find reason in our “sudden” connection. Her mouth gaped open as she helplessly searched for any words to fill the deafening silence. Her black hair, darker than the night itself, cascaded around her shoulders with two small braids trailed from her temples and met in the back of her head, keeping the hair from her face. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, just as delicate, just as fair, just as perfect. As full as my heart became, it began to break, and as if she could hear the sound of it, she spoke, drowning it out, “hi,” she whispered, the greeting clearly meant for me.

While she had been able to compose herself quickly enough, I was still overwhelmed by her mere presence. Never in my life did I think we’d meet like this. Never in my life did I think I’d even see her again. I had promised to stay away, after all. I refused to be indulged with any information about her other than whether or not she was happy and safe. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. However, there was the part of me that still came to life in her presence. Sensing my inability to even form a coherent thought, Steve spoke up, “could you go let Tony know that she’s awake?” he asked, trying to urge her away. I should’ve prepared myself for her presence. Steve had been at the tower. Why hadn’t I anticipated this? Why hadn’t I demanded for him to leave? Why didn’t I wake up and run off the moment I saw that Steve was so close, meaning that she would also be just as close?

Her voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Jarvis, can you let Tony know that Eva’s awake?” she asked Tony’s AI, mentioning me by name. There was no way. She couldn’t know me. She couldn’t know who I was. I had taken every single precaution. I had taken every single memory. I took it all from her to keep her safe. I forced away all the memories she had of herself. She didn’t know who she was aside from who she became under Tony’s watchful eye.

“How...how do you know my name?” I stuttered out the first words I’d spoken to her in what felt like years but what had truly only been half of one.

“You’re one of the heroes of New York. Tony talks about you a lot,” she answered, stepping even further into the room. She closed the door behind her, making her way over to me. I tensed as her eyes stayed locked on mine. While I was relieved that she didn’t know my name from her memories of me, I was terrified that she would figure it out. I was terrified that she would remember. I tried to sink back further into the bed as Steve frantically searched for any other way to get her to leave. A part of me wanted him to remove her. A part of me wanted him to send her away or to take her back to wherever they were staying. However, there was the other part of me that was entranced by those eyes. I had never shed the love I had for her; it would’ve been an impossible feat. I had torn myself from her, but I never managed to tear her away from me. She smiled, and I thought I would melt into a puddle on the floor. I thought my heart would stop. The world felt like it came to a halt, and it listened to the way my heart skipped a beat, “I guess it’s only fair that you know who I am,” she smiled, her eyes glistening like the stars in the sky. She put them to shame. I didn’t need her to tell me. I already knew who she was. She was the very sun that rose on the horizon...the dawn of a new day.

“My name...is Aurora.”

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever given. Loving her was my greatest weakness, and leaving her was my greatest failure. Aurora was my best kept secret, the love I forfeited, my dream come true, my princess, my awakening...my daughter.

***

I ran as fast as I could. I ran until the sound of my heartbeat threatened to drown out Loki’s words. His voice was harsh, but his words cut me like a knife. It would’ve been easier and far less cruel for him to just kill me. Instead, he would leave me to suffer, to take on the world alone. I was certain that Loki was speaking to his father to receive his blessing to ask me to marry him, to ask me to be his princess. However, when he returned to the garden, it was clear that the topic of conversation was very different. Instead of asking me to marry him, he plunged a proverbial knife into my heart, but even if he had done that, it would’ve been far less cruel. He reminded me of my place. I was nothing. I was no one. I had nothing. I had no one. I was just an orphan, a girl without a name, a peasant. I was undeserving of being known as a princess. I had tainted his name for long enough, and he had grown bored of me. They were words I never thought I’d hear from my love, the man who had taken a thousand years of my life for himself.

I didn’t stop until I reached the cottage. I didn’t stop to sing to the birds in the trees above me. I didn’t stop to listen to the song they would sing back. I didn’t stop for Hjalmar’s concerned voice from the stables next to the cottage. I didn’t stop until I burst through the front door of the cottage, throwing my arms around my father’s waist the moment I saw him. He didn’t even have to ask me what was on my mind. He didn’t have to understand the situation in order to offer me his comforting embrace. He simply wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me against him in order to offer me the stability I so desperately needed. As I buried my face into his chest, I whispered the words that were meant for Loki. They were the words I should’ve told him before he left to speak with his father, the words that had been sitting on my mind for weeks, the words that were attached to the awakening within me, the words I thought would’ve brought us both so much happiness, so much joy. Instead, they were muffled by my father’s strong chest, causing them to echo back to me, reminding me that this was a journey I would make alone, “I’m pregnant.”

15 notes · View notes

psychosistr · 6 years ago

Text

The Bloody Truth

Jonawagon Week- Day 7: Free Day/Legacy

Summary: Jonathan and Speedwagon deal with a nasty disagreement that drives Speedwagon out of the house. Can Jonathan make it up to him and see the truth behind why they were even fighting in the first place?

Notes: For the free day, I wanted to tackle a concept I don’t really see explored all that often with these two- making up after a fight. One of my biggest beliefs in relationships is that the true testament to its strength isn’t in never fighting at all because that’s unrealistic, but, rather, in how well the people involved can make up after the fight and if their relationship is strong enough to survive something like that. With that in mind, these two may seem a bit OOC and I apologize for that, but I just really wanted to explore this concept with them.

“Dad?” A familiar voice accompanied the knock at the door of Jonathan’s study.

Jonathan, who had been preoccupying himself with reading over some maps spread out across his desk, looked up towards the door. “Yes, George?”

The door opened and the young boy- ten years old, to be exact, as his birthday had just passed a month ago- walked into the study, closing the door behind himself. George walked up to his desk, worrying at his lip with his teeth like he wanted to say something but was nervous to do so. “……”

Jonathan gave his son a kind smile rolled up one of the maps he had been reading. “Whatever is on your mind, George? You know you can ask me anything.”

George looked up at his father before glancing down at his feet. “…When…When do you think..that papa will come back home…?”

Jonathan’s smile fell for a moment at the question. A feeling of irritation bubbled up within him at the thought of his partner, but, he put a firm barrier over those feelings to keep them from showing on his face. Just because he was annoyed with the other man was no reason to make George unhappy.

“I am sure he will come back any day now. He cannot keep this stubbornness up for long- he was always terrible at it.” He smiled at his son again, trying to believe his own words. “Speedwagon may be a bit brash at times, but he loves all of us and has never been able to stay away for long.”

“……” George kept his eyes on his feet, not looking up at his dad. “..I wish you two would make up already. It’s been three weeks now and I…I miss him.” Jonathan blinked in surprise at the observation. Had it truly been three weeks already? “Mom says that neither of you have ever been very good at giving up your ideals, but that one of you will have to bend for the fighting to stop..”

Jonathan looked down at the papers scattered about his desk. “……” Truth be told, he did miss his partner terribly. He had thrown himself into his work to serve as a distraction from the problem, insisting to himself that Speedwagon would not be able to stay away for long and would surely be back soon enough to apologize for his wrong-doings. However, if it had truly been three weeks by now, then it seemed Speedwagon was as unwilling to budge on the issue as Jonathan was. Jonathan took a deep breath to collect his thoughts before giving George another kind smile. “I cannot say it will help..but..I shall speak to him.”

“You promise..?” George asked while looking up hesitantly.

“A Joestar never goes back on their word.” Jonathan replied while extending a pinky finger towards George expectantly. “If I do, then you may disown me as your father.”

George smiled a tiny bit and hooked his pinky around his father’s, their hands going up and down a few times to seal the promise. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do that, but okay.” He turned to leave, but paused and pivoted on his heel to instead wrap his arms around Jonathan in a hug. “Thanks, dad..”

Jonathan gently returned the hug and gave the boy a pat on the head. “Of course, son. Now, you should be getting ready for bed. Hurry now, before your mother finds you hiding in here and sentences both of us to sleep in the living room tonight.”

“I don’t know, that sounds kind of fun to me.” George teased with a much brighter smile before leaving the room. “Good night, dad.”

“Pleasant dreams, George.” Jonathan said with a wave and a smile while watching George leave. It was only once the door was firmly closed again that Jonathan allowed his smile to fade. “……” Reaching down to open a drawer on his desk, Jonathan pulled out the newspaper article that had been the source of his family’s current dismay.

He still recalled the day this whole debacle began…

“ ‘Hospital Under Inspection for Organ Trafficking’ ” Jonathan read the headline aloud with a troubled expression while sitting on a couch one morning. He continued reading the article, his brow creasing with each line. “ ‘Local hospital run by oil tycoon and philanthropist, Robert Edward O. Speedwagon, has had an informal investigation launched against the staff for suspicion of organ trafficking. After receiving an anonymous tip, local authorities exhumed the bodies of several deceased individuals who received final medical treatment and hospice care at the hospital in question, only to find that each body had surgical scars indicative of surgeries unrelated to their cause of death and many were drained of their blood. It was also discovered that the families of the deceased were all payed substantially BY Mr.Speedwagon. Speculation at this point has led to the belief that the hospital is paying families in exchange for desecrating their loved ones’ remains, presumably with the intent to sell the removed parts on the black market’- What slander!” Jonathan suddenly stopped his reading to glare at the paper and toss it down on the living room table. He was absolutely furious. How dare they print such lies about his beloved Speedwagon! He would never approve of something so horrid! “How dare they spread such lies about you?! It is unforgiveable!” He looked up to the man in question who was seated next to him while sipping his morning tea, surprised to find him not even half as upset as he himself was. “How can you be so calm about this, Robert? They are saying such horrid things about you!”

Speedwagon reached down and picked up the paper, his eyes calmly scanning over the article. “Hmh..can’t say I didn’ expect it. Part of bein’ a public figure now, I suppose- people will leap at the chance t’ crucify you. Someone’s certainly got an active imagination over there..” The blonde man had spent the past few years, after he was blessed with the good fortune of finding oil in the middle of nowhere, training his accent into something more “respectable” in the public eye. He did a good job of it around strangers and people he was meeting for business deals, but Jonathan could still hear a slip of his original cockney accent when he was at home or when he was in distress. “Anyway, it’ll all blow over once they find out the black market thing’s a load of rubbish.” He said calmly while setting the paper neatly back down on the table.

Jonathan felt slightly calmer from his beloved’s words. He knew he would never play a part in something so- Wait, what was that last part he said?

Jonathan looked up at Speedwagon with a hesitant, beseeching expression. “You meant to say that all of it was rubbish, didn’t you, Robert?”

Speedwagon briefly glanced away, a slight frown pulling at his lips. “Well..it’s nothin’ like how they’re makin’ it sound in there..”

“What?” Jonathan was shocked. He..He must have heard that wrong. There was certainly no way that his beloved would do such a thing…right? “Speedwagon..” He swallowed down a lump in his throat, praying to god that he would not receive the answer he dreaded. “Tell me the truth: Are any of these allegations true- yes or no?”

“……” The blonde pulled his hat from atop his head and began to fiddle with it in his hands, a nervous habit that Jonathan was all too familiar with by now. “…It’s a bit more complicated than that..”

“It is a yes or no question, Speedwagon.” Jonathan said while narrowing his eyes. “Are you paying people to take the organs from their deceased family members?”

“I…well…yes.” Speedwagon finally answered after fumbling for his words, looking up at Jonathan’s shocked expression. “But, I’m tryin’ t’ tell y’, i’s more complicated than it sounds!” Ah, his accent was back again, a sure sign of his stress in that moment.

“More complicated?!” Jonathan balked at his partner, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Speedwagon! How could you be a part of such a thing?!”

Speedwagon gripped his hat a little tighter, frowning at Jonathan’s reaction. “If y’d just gimme a chance t’ explain, y’d understand that what I’m doin’ is ‘elpin’ people! No one’s gettin’ ‘urt an’ that ‘ospital is savin’ hundreds o’ lives- all o’ the ones I’m startin’ are!”

Jonathan felt the color drain from his face at those words and something gripped his stomach with terror. “Good lord..you..don’t tell me that ALL of your facilities participate in such sordid acts..?!”

Speedwagon crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, beginning to look irritated rather than worried as he had been. “I’d ‘ardly call it ‘sordid’. We’re savin’ people’s lives and makin’ sure they don’ go bankrupt in the process. I’d call it a win-win for everyone involved!”

“What about for the deceased?!” Jonathan countered while standing up to look down at Speedwagon and convey the seriousness of his words. “Do you truly think they would be okay knowing that their bodies were desecrated in such a way?!”

“Yes!” Speedwagon snapped at him and stood to his feet as well, looking Jonathan dead in the eyes with a scowl. “We got permission from each and every one o’ those poor souls for what we did. They figured they wouldn’ need their organs anymore if they were dead, so why not put ‘em t’ good use and give their families somethin’ for the trouble? Honestly, I don’ get what all the fuss is about- i‘s not like they care once they’re dead, the livin’ are the ones in need of ‘elp.”

Jonathan was growing increasingly frustrated by his partner’s attitude. “Not everything in this world has a price tag, Speedwagon. What you are doing is morally wrong and you need to stop this practice at once.” Jonathan stated firmly. He did not like using that tone of voice with his beloved, but it would hopefully make him see the error of his ways and apologize so that-

“No.” Speedwagon’s voice was equally as firm and unyielding as Jonathan’s own- so much so that it shocked the larger man, as he was not used to hearing Speedwagon speak to him in such a manner. “You ain’t got no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, so I ain’t gotta listen to y’ on this one, Jonathan.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jonathan replied while staring the shorter man down.

“Y’ ‘eard me, damn it.” Speedwagon stated while placing his hat back on his head. “You don’ know a thing ‘bout this, ain’t givin’ me a chance to explain my actions, and keep tryin’ t’ insist what I’m doin’s wrong even though y’ don’ know nothin’ bout it.” He turned away from Jonathan and started walking towards the door. “I know what I’m doin’s right, tha’s all the validation I need.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Jonathan asked, his tone coming out harsher than he intended due to his frustration.

“To the ‘ospital. When y’ get your ‘ead outta your own arse, come find me there an’ we can talk like grownups for a change.” He placed his hand on the doorknob, throwing Jonathan one last look over his shoulder, it was equal parts coldness, aggravation, and…hurt. There was pain in those eyes and it almost made Jonathan say something else before Speedwagon beat him to it. “By the way..‘not everythin’ in this world ‘as a price tag’..tha’s somethin’ people only ever say when they’ve never ‘ad t’ worry ‘bout the cost before.”

Those were the last words the other man said before he left their home, softly closing the door behind himself rather than slamming it and alerting the rest of their family to what happened…

A gentle knock at the door to Jonathan’s study roused him out of his thoughts and back to the present. “Come in.” He called towards the door.

Erina walked in, already dressed in her sleeping gown with a shawl draped around her shoulders. “Planning to work yourself to sleep again tonight?” She asked with a gentle smile and a tone of voice that was part teasing, part concealed concern.

Jonathan checked the clock in the corner of the room and noted that it was nearly midnight. “Oh..my apologies, I did not realize it was so late.”

“You seem to do that quite a bit lately.” Erina walked over to his desk, delicately moved a few documents and books aside to clear a space for herself, and sat herself down on the corner of it so she was sitting close to eye-level with Jonathan. “George told me of your conversation before he went to bed.” The way she said it was so patient, opening the conversation but giving him room to take it in whatever direction he felt comfortable with.

“……” Jonathan looked down at his desk with a frown. “I suppose nothing will change if we do not at least discuss the matter.” Jonathan sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I just…I do not understand, Erina- how can he not see what he is doing is wrong? I even asked him to stop such a practice, but he outright refused. I do not know what more I can do…”

There were few times in their lives that Jonathan had ever asked Speedwagon not to do something or to change his behavior. He loved the other man for everything that he was, rough edges and bad language and all, so there was very little he ever wished to see changed. The only things he ever asked him to change were usually with his best interests at heart, such as cutting back on his smoking and drinking when he was stressed or always going off alone when he felt there would be trouble from his past rearing its head against him. Any of those times, he had been able to persuade Speedwagon to change those dangerous behaviors simply by asking him- he had never had to deal with Speedwagon outright telling him NO before.

“I went to see him the other day.” Erina said calmly, her hands folded over her lap. “At the hospital, that is. We had a discussion about everything and it helped to clear a few things up quite easily.”

Jonathan looked up at her, surprised by her words. “You went to see him?” Darn it, if he had known, he would have gone with her. It would have been so much easier to speak to him if Erina was there, too. “…How is he?” He asked after a moment, his concern for the other’s well-being briefly outweighing his irritation at their disagreement.

Erina paused for a moment, considering her words carefully. “He is…doing as well as could be expected. He does miss all of us quite terribly and wishes to come home sooner rather than later.”

Jonathan frowned and glanced away from her gaze. “He is free to come home any time he wishes.”

Erina placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “He is waiting for you to come see him, as he told you when he left. He has not left that hospital in three weeks, and will not do so until the two of you have your discussion there.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder, it was firm but still so gentle and understanding. “Jonathan.” He turned his eyes back towards her, meeting her firm, piercing stare hesitantly. “I read the article as well. I know what words were printed on that paper and what everyone is saying about him. However, if you go there and see what he is doing with your own eyes, I think you may gain some insight into his actions that will paint them in a different light. What he is doing truly is for the good of everyone involved.”

Jonathan frowned more as he looked into her eyes pleadingly. “You are on his side as well?”

Erina brought her other hand forward to rest on top of Jonathan’s own where they were lying on the desk. “We are a family, Jonathan. There are no sides. Different points of view and opinions, certainly, but never sides.”

“I suppose you are right in that regard..” Jonathan conceded, though he still frowned a bit.

Her eyes softened, as did her tone of voice. “Do you recall when we were young and how Dio tormented you? He did everything he could to turn others against you and make you unhappy. Even your father, may he rest in peace, believed Dio’s act.” She began to stand up from the desk, her hand remaining on his shoulder as she got to her feet once more. “What I am trying to say is that you, of all people, should know how it feels to have everyone you know turn against you due to the cruel lies of another, as well as how much it can hurt to not even have those whom you love believe you.” She gave his shoulder one last squeeze before releasing it. “All I ask is that you speak with him and try to remember that things are not always as black and white as they seem in this world.”

“……” Her words struck a chord within Jonathan. Even though more than a decade had passed, he still clearly remembered the pain his adopted brother had caused him- the pain made even worse by his own father not believing his claims against the devil residing in their home. Had he really been inflicting a similar pain onto the man he loved? He certainly hoped not, for he could never forgive himself for such a thing.. “I shall go to him tomorrow.” He said with a tone of finality, steeling his own conviction on the matter.

“Good.” Erina said simply and leaned over to place a tender hiss to his furrowed brow. She headed towards the door, pausing once her hand was on it to turn back to Jonathan with a light smile, her tone genial and teasing. “Having said that, do try your best to bring him home- I am quite tired of nearly drowning in the blankets of a bed that is more than three times my size.”

The comment earned a smile and a short laugh from Jonathan. “I shall do my best to rescue you from such a plight, my dear.”

She smiled back at him and left without another word.

Once she was gone, Jonathan’s eyes returned to the newspaper article that had been pushed aside upon Erina’s arrival. He looked at the headline one last time before grabbing the paper, balling it up, and tossing it into the waste basket beside his desk.

Tomorrow he would see the truth with his own eyes and make his decisions from there.

The front doors of the hospital stood before Jonathan, the building looking daunting and almost menacing with the early-morning sun rising up behind it to cast the front in ominous shadows. He had been stuck, frozen a foot or two away from the entrance for at least ten minutes now, grateful it was early enough that no one was around to witness his odd behavior.

“This is ridiculous..” Jonathan muttered aloud, taking a deep breath to calm himself and exhaling it slowly. “This is a hospital. You faced down undead horrors and a being who was nigh-immortal. You can certainly open the door of a hospital and walk inside.” He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining instead that he was back at Windknight’s Lot, and the courage he had on that night pushed him forward to finally enter the building.

Upon opening his eyes again, Jonathan took a look around and found that the inside of the building was actually quite…nice.

The front lobby and entrance were surprisingly cozy for a hospital. Rather than feeling the overly-sterile, cold, clinical atmosphere one would expect from a place that dealt with illness and death, it felt safe and welcoming. There were comfortable sofas and armchairs settled around a fireplace, tables and cushioned chairs with an assortment of fruit baskets and plates of sweets set out on them, large windows that let in plenty of natural sunlight and offered a calming view of the well-maintained gardens outside, and Jonathan could even spot a play area for children set up outside through one of the windows. All-in-all, it felt more like stepping into someone’s home rather than a hospital.

As he walked through the lobby, he noticed that even the receptionist’s desk was far more welcoming than in most hospitals. It was made of a warm-looking cherry-wood and polished beautifully. There were fresh flowers in vases on the corners and a bowl of small candies resting low enough that a child could easily take some.

The woman seated at the desk (looking quite comfortable in her well-cushioned chair that matched the desk’s wood for the frame) smiled politely at him when he walked up to her. “Hello, sir. How may I be of assistance? Are you here to see a patient, or perhaps looking to make an appointment?”

Jonathan froze slightly, after a polite bow to the lady as was proper of a gentleman, momentarily unsure of how to phrase his reason for being here. “Um…well..no, not quite. My name is Jonathan Joestar- I am a friend of Mr.Robert Speedwagon. I was wondering if I could, possibly, if he is not too busy of course, speak with him..?” His nerves started to return towards the end of his question, his words almost running together.

The woman gave a slight gasp, her eyes regarding him with a look of realization. “Oh! So YOU’RE Mr.Joestar! Why, Mr.Speedwagon speaks of you so fondly, sir!” She smiled at him and rose from her desk, motioning for him to follow her down one of the hallways branching off from the lobby. “I believe he is taking a brief respite in his office, but I am certain he would be quite happy to see you.”

Jonathan followed her with a grateful smile, hoping his nervousness did not show in either his tone of voice or his facial features. “I certainly hope so..”

As he followed the receptionist down the hall, Jonathan got a better look at the rest of the hospital.

It was kept clean and pristine, but the warm colors helped to preserve the homey feeling he had from the entrance. The empty rooms for patients that were left open looked as inviting as a small bedroom or lavish hotel suite with actual beds rather than just cots on metal frames, full book cases in every room to entertain any residents, windows that could easily be opened to allow in fresh air and sunlight, and plenty of comfortable chairs and other furniture for both the patients and their guests to enjoy. That being said, there were still plenty of rooms they passed that clearly reminded him that this was, indeed, a hospital- and quite a state of the art one, if the unfamiliar devices and equipment he spotted in the surgery wing of the building were anything to go by.

It was certainly clear that Speedwagon spared no expense renovating the building and Jonathan briefly wondered if all of the facilities he ran were this nice. He had been aware of the many businesses that Speedwagon had come to run over the past few years, but he, ashamed as he was now to admit it, had never really been inside of one before. The other man always insisted that there wouldn’t be anything worth seeing and distracted Jonathan with news of something exciting he’d done that day.

“He’s right through here.” The woman’s voice suddenly cut through his musings about the hospital. He looked at the door they had stopped at, a metal nameplate on the front reading “Mr.Speedwagon- Founder” and he couldn’t help the small swell of pride he felt at seeing his beloved receiving the recognition he so rightfully deserved. “Let me just inform him you’re here.” The woman said with a smile before walking inside. Jonathan waited patiently for a moment, hearing muffled voices and quick shuffling sounds before the woman exited the room and stood aside for him. “He says you can come in.”

Jonathan bowed his head to her with a smile. “You have my thanks, madam.” He walked in and closed the door behind himself.

Looking around the office, he was surprised to see that it was actually rather sparse compared to the rest of the rooms he’d seen. There was a desk and chair similar to the one for the receptionist set in the middle of the room, the top covered with many documents and books and charts that Jonathan knew he would be unable to understand without someone to guide him. In the corners of the room behind the desk were a pair of bookshelves that were cluttered with many books, files, and papers that had been set down on the shelves haphazardly. There was a window beside the desk, but the curtains were currently drawn to block out the sun. The only furniture other than the desk was a sofa and two armchairs similar to the ones from the waiting room set up to create a small square space with the desk, allowing those seated in them to speak to the person sitting behind the wooden furniture.

His partner was easily visible in the small space and Jonathan’s heart ached slightly when he saw him.

Speedwagon was preoccupied when Jonathan walked in, busying himself with the task of trying to cram a pillow and blanket beneath the desk. The long indent that had yet to fully rise back up on the sofa cushions confirmed Jonathan’s suspicion that Speedwagon had indeed been sleeping on the furniture moments ago. This notion was further cemented by his beloved’s appearance- his hair was mussed, his normally pristine suit (the same one that he’d left the house in, Jonathan realized with a growing feeling of guilt) was wrinkled and slightly untucked, and, though it was dark, Jonathan could clearly make out the dark bags still present under those nervous looking brown eyes.

God, why had he waited so long to come here? To put the other man through this was incredibly rude and Jonathan felt ashamed of himself for his own foolish stubbornness..

“Ahem.” Speedwagon cleared his throat, gaining Jonathan’s full attention again. “Do pardon the mess, I was not expecting any company this morning.” No accent. He was being overly formal. Not a good sign for Jonathan.

“My apologies.” Jonathan offered a small bow of his head, preoccupying his eyes with looking at the wood flooring beneath his feet. “I probably should have come later in the day.”

“……” Speedwagon was quiet for a while, the tension in the room making Jonathan feel even more anxious than he already was. “It’s quite alright.” Speedwagon finally spoke and Jonathan allowed himself to look up from the floor. The other man was doing his best to make himself look presentable- mainly combing his fingers through his hair to tame it slightly and righting his suit. “Now, what can I do for you, Mr.Joestar?”

Jonathan bit the inside of his lip at the overly formal moniker, trying not to cringe. Speedwagon had not called him that since they started dating. It further twisted the knife of guilt that was stabbing him in the gut hearing his beloved speak to him as if they were acquaintances at best.

“..I..” Jonathan searched for the right words to say. He decided on something honest and emotional, to see how the other would react. “George and Erina…they both miss you terribly…they..wanted to know when you would be home…”

“Hm, is that so?” Speedwagon’s tone of voice did not change as he finished smoothing out the wrinkles on his sleeves to the best of his ability. “Well, that is hard to answer. I am quite busy here, what with assisting with the day-to-day workings of the hospital, as well as the rest of my business affairs. Oh, not to mention that I am currently fending off those who wish to see me socially crucified due to a rather nasty news article regarding my business practices.”

There was that knife again, twisting and stabbing him so painfully in both his gut and his chest now. It hurt so badly and he was not sure how to make it stop. If even George and Erina’s concern was not enough to draw him home, and the fact that he brought up the incident with such an icy tone to his voice-

Oh.

Perhaps a different approach was in order.

“I am quite aware- I have read the article in question.” He stood up straighter, trying to appear as confident as he was trying to sound. “However, I have found that one cannot always trust what they read in the paper.” That earned him a sideways glance from Speedwagon. He took that as a good sign and decided to press on. “I know you are a very busy man, but I was wondering if you would be so kind as to grace me with a tour of this building and its workings? If it would not be too much trouble, of course.”

“……” Speedwagon eyed him again, taking long enough to answer that Jonathan feared he may have misread him and was about to apologize. “Very well, then.” The other man relented with a passive expression that did not betray any clear thoughts or feelings on the matter. “I was just about to begin my morning rounds, anyway. You are welcome to join me, if you wish. Though, I must warn you, some things you may see are not for the faint of heart.” The way his eyes narrowed slightly on the last part was clearly a challenge. One that Jonathan would not back down from.

“I assure you, I can handle any manner of unpleasantness you may show me.” He returned Speedwagon’s challenging look with one of his own. If Speedwagon wanted to show him the truth, then Jonathan would stomach every bit of it- whatever it took to understand why his love did what he did and why he felt it so necessary.

“Very well, then.” He gestured for Jonathan to follow him as he left the office. “There are a few patients I usually check on in the mornings. After that I need to speak with the doctors. Then there are a few special cases I need to see to before reviewing the hospital’s financial records for the day.”

“Sounds like quite a full day.” Jonathan commented as he followed the blonde down the hall back towards some of the patient’s rooms he’d passed on the way there. “Is that a typical schedule for you?”

“It varies from day-to-day, but most of it is fairly routine.” Speedwagon shrugged slightly before stopping at one of the doors and knocking. The tone of his voice changed instantly, going from the cold formality he’d shown Jonathan to something softer and closer the kindness he was used to. “Ms.Eliza? Do you mind if I come in?”

A voice, very faint and tired, called back from the other side. “Of course not, Mr.Speedwagon.”

Speedwagon opened the door and the two walked into the room. Resting on the bed was a woman who looked to be close to Erina’s age, though she was quite pale and very thin, save for the bulge of her stomach that Jonathan could clearly see through the blankets.

She put a finger to her lips in a shushing motion before pointing towards the sofa in her room. Curious, Jonathan looked over and saw a young girl, probably less than three years old, sleeping on the furniture with a doll cradled in her arms.

Speedwagon looked at the girl and smiled, speaking in a hushed voice. “Little dear tuckered herself out again, has she?”

The woman on the bed muffled a giggle behind her hand. “She stayed up all night playing and telling us stories..says she can’t wait to be a big sister.” She smiled softly while rubbing one hand over her swollen stomach. Her smile faded slightly, though, when she looked back to Speedwagon. “Do you..think it will go well..?”

Speedwagon stepped closer to the bed and gently placed a hand over her own. “Of course it will. My staff will see to it personally. Tell me, does it feel like the transfusions are helping any?”

She nodded, a faint smile returning to her face. “I do feel better after receiving them. Who knew something as simple as blood could make such a difference?”

Jonathan blinked slightly in surprise at the statement. “Blood?”

When the woman gave him a curious look, Speedwagon answered her unspoken question. “This is Mr.Joestar- a friend of mine who has come to see the workings of the business.” He then turned back to Jonathan to answer his question in turn. “My doctors and scientists have found that blood transfusions can serve many purposes. It’s still a fairly new practice in the eyes of the public, but there have already been a few cases of doctors using blood transfusions to save patients’ lives over the years. The trick is identifying what kind they need- we’ve found that each person falls under one specific blood type out of three or so possible ones and that you can take blood from one person and essentially inject it into another person of the same type to help stabilize their circulation.”

“Really?” Jonathan was stunned by his partner’s knowledge on the matter. “I had no idea one could use blood in such a way..”

“Indeed you can.” Speedwagon turned his smiling face towards Eliza on the bed. “And Ms.Eliza here is living proof that it can help with many illnesses.”

She returned the smile. “I honestly never would have thought of it myself before coming here. Your doctors are truly amazing, Mr.Speedwagon- I can’t thank you enough.”

“Nonsense, it’s what we’re here for, ma’am.” He stepped away from the bed. “I’ll have the staff bring you two some breakfast shortly. Any requests?”

She looked back over to the girl sleeping nearby. “I know she would love some of that toast and marmalade again. Oh, and some tea would be lovely.”

“Of course. I’ll put in the request for you.” He replied with a bow and a tip of his hat. “Try to take it easy for now- I’ll be by again later.”

With that he left the room, Jonathan following close behind after giving the woman a polite bow of his head. When he caught up to Speedwagon outside, he watched the other man pull a pen and notepad from his pocket, write down what Eliza requested earlier, then put it away again.

“If it would not be too rude to ask, and if you are allowed to say so at all,” Jonathan began his question, earning a glance from the blonde. “What is her condition? I recall Erina’s pregnancy quite well and she looked sickly at times, but nowhere near as pale or feeble.”

Speedwagon hesitated for a moment, and Jonathan feared he had pushed for too much information, but the other man answered, nonetheless. “She has anemia. She was involved in a rather nasty accident around the time of her previous pregnancy and it caused a problem with her liver. For now, the blood transfusions are helping and should stabilize her enough through the delivery. In a year or two, once her body’s fully recovered and stable, we’ll take the next step to solve the problem for good so she’ll no longer be stuck relying on the transfusions.”

“The next step?” Jonathan inquired with a tilt of his head. “What would that be?”

“……” Speedwagon glanced away again and continued down the hall. “We can discuss that after I see to the rest of my morning duties.”

Jonathan was a bit worried by his partner’s reaction, but chose to wait and see what he had planned. After all, this was Speedwagon- he was certain the other man would explain things at some point or another.

Jonathan spent the rest of the morning following Speedwagon around the hospital to check on various patients- the blonde philanthropist knowing each and every one of them by name and having extensive knowledge about their individual needs and conditions. He learned quite a bit about the patients there, namely that many of them did not have stable incomes and were essentially receiving free or extremely discounted care thanks to Speedwagon himself. That thought was truly touching, reminding Jonathan that, no matter what, his beloved was at his core a kind and caring man who wanted to help others.

He had practically forgotten about the main reason for their argument..until they reached the hospice section of the hospital.

As with the other patients, Speedwagon knocked on the door politely and called the name of the person inside before entering. “Mr.Adams? Mind if I come in for a moment?”

A series of raspy coughs could be heard within the room before the person spoke. “Yes, go ahead..”

Speedwagon opened the door and Jonathan followed him inside. The man in this room was the worst out of any that Jonathan had seen that day. He was older than Jonathan and Speedwagon, but only by a decade or so, yet he looked much older with the way his skin was wrinkled and scarred and his hair had all but fallen out. He seemed to have a hard time even turning his head in their direction to look at them properly.

Speedwagon took off his hat and sat in a chair by the bed with yet another kind smile, Jonathan taking the seat beside him. “Morning, Mr.Adams, do forgive the delay.” He gestured to Jonathan beside him. “This is my friend, Mr.Joestar, he is shadowing me for the day to learn how the business works.” The two nodded politely to each other as Speedwagon set his hat aside and, though his smile remained kind and sympathetic, his voice took on a serious tone. “…The doctors informed me of the results..”

The man sighed heavily, his eyes looking up to the ceiling. “I figured as much. I’m honestly not surprised, but it’s still not a nice thing to know.”

“I know it isn’t.” Speedwagon frowned slightly. “Have you contacted your family yet? Or would you prefer one of us to do it? I could pay a visit to them myself, if you’d like.”

The man managed a small shake of his head. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary- I already had a letter sent to my wife. I expect she’ll be here within a day or two.” The air was heavy with silence for a while as the gravity of the situation left Jonathan feeling uncomfortable, as if he were intruding on something he should not be a part of. “Mr.Speedwagon..” The man suddenly broke the silence and turned his head to look at Speedwagon properly again. “About your offer…I’ve decided to take you up on it.”

Speedwagon looked at him with a sadly serious expression, showing his sympathy and concern. “Are you certain? You should probably wait until you have a chance to talk things over with your wife-”

“I’ve thought it over plenty.” The man interrupted with a sigh. “I’ll let her know about it when she comes to visit, but it’s my body, so it’s my choice.” He narrowed his eyes at Speedwagon, showing how serious he was on the matter. “If you really agree to help out my family after I’m gone from this world..then you can take as much out of my body as you need to.”

Jonathan gasped quietly in shock, looking between the two in alarm. “Are you..Are you truly at peace with such a decision? Surely your family will not agree to such a thing..”

The man looked up at Jonathan with a frown. “They may not have much of a choice. Besides, I won’t need the rest of me where I’m going. If using what I leave behind can help these doctors save other peoples’ lives, then why wouldn’t I do it?”

“Save others’ lives?” Jonathan questioned, perplexed by the idea. “How so?”

Instead of the sickly man answering his query, it was Speedwagon who did so. “Blood is not the only thing in our bodies that can be used to maintain peoples’ lives. I’ll explain further after we finish here.” He then turned back to the man with his earlier kind smile. “Now then, I’ll wait until after you’ve had a proper discussion with your family on the matter to make anything official, but I’ll have the paperwork drafted up in the event that they agree to it. And don’t you worry about a thing, they will be well taken care of.”

“Thank you, Mr.Speedwagon.” The man returned his look with a tired smile of his own. “You are a blessing. I really cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done..”

“Now, now, there’s no need for any of that.” Speedwagon said while standing up and placing his hat back onto his head. “You just get some rest and I’ll be back to see you after your family arrives.” He tipped his hat slightly to the man in farewell and left the room with Jonathan following behind him after a polite bow of his head.

Once they were outside the room with the door closed, Jonathan turned to his partner with a genuinely curious expression. “Now then, could you elaborate on what you said earlier, if you would be so kind? About this whole business regarding organs and other peoples’ health?”

Speedwagon gave him a nod as he led him through the building again. “As I said before, blood is very useful in helping with a variety of medical conditions and illnesses, but it is not the only thing in our bodies that can be of use in keeping us alive- there are our organs to consider, as well. Hearts, livers, kidneys, even lungs and stomachs and intestines can suffer damage or have defects that cause harm to the body and keep it from doing as it should.” He looked over to Jonathan as they walked. “Tell me, if your carriage had a busted wheel that made riding uncomfortable and you knew it would one day give out and leave you stranded, what would you do about it- merely patch the wheel with a piece of wood or replace it entirely?”

Jonathan brought his hand to his chin in a thoughtful gesture as he contemplated the question. “Well, I suppose I would replace the entire thing if I could. Patching it would keep it going for a short while longer, but it could still break at some point. Better to replace the whole thing and avoid the discomfort and worst case scenario in the first place.”

“Precisely.” Speedwagon said with a snap of his fingers. “However, you do not know how to make a proper wheel on your own. So, how would you come about procuring one?”

“I would likely go to someone who sold them and purchase one.” Jonathan’s eyes widened slightly when he realized where exactly Speedwagon was going with this analogy. “You mean..?”

Speedwagon finally offered him a confident, proud smile, one that warmed Jonathan to his very core. “I do indeed: Here, we can identify what organs need to be replaced in living patients, store the organs from deceased patients, and surgically implant them into the ones who need them. It’s a rather tricky and risky process, but it provides much more stable results than mere blood transfusions or medicine ever could on their own. Remember Ms.Eliza? The blood transfusions help for now, but the real problem is her bad liver, so, once she’s well enough, we’ll remove her liver and give her a new one so her body can take care of itself properly!” He put his hands on his hips, looking far more confident than the first time they’d discussed the matter and sounding much more like the Speedwagon that Jonathan knew and loved, rather than the overly-formal businessman he’d been stuck speaking to for most of the morning. “Like you said, Jonathan- better to replace the wheel and avoid the worst case scenario in the first place, right?”

Jonathan stared at his partner with wonder in his eyes. “That is truly incredible, Speedwagon!” He could hardly believe his ears. What a wonder of medical science! To think, so many peoples’ lives could be improved or even saved, simply by implanting another person’s organs into them. It was pure genius!

“Glad t’ see you’re finally comin’ around.” Speedwagon’s smile was far more natural and small traces of his accent were slipping in, though it was more from comfort rather than stress this time. “Come on, then- we still have a few more stops to make.” He motioned for Jonathan to follow him, and the nobleman gladly did so.

They spent a while afterwards speaking with the doctors of the hospital. They showed Jonathan their methods of preserving the organs and explained that, similar to how one needed to identify a base blood group for a successful transfusion, you would also need to do the same to ensure a successful organ transplant.

Jonathan ended up learning quite a bit about medical practices that he never would have known before. It was a bit shameful to admit, but he had never done very much research into things like surgery or medicine, despite his wife working as nurse for so long and his partner opening and helping to run several hospitals. He made a mental promise to himself to take up a greater interest in their fields of study, at least enough that he would be able to understand things like this in the future.

After checking on a few more patients (and stopping for a quick bite in the dining hall they had prepared for those well enough to leave their rooms), they returned to Speedwagon’s office.

The blonde pulled a few files off of the shelves and set them on the desk along with a rather thick notebook. “I’m afraid this part of the job isn’t as fun as going around talking to everyone.” He opened the notebook and turned it so that Jonathan, who had taken to standing beside the blonde as he sat in the chair, could see the contents as well. “This is our record book for where all of the money I spend on the patients and staff is recorded.” He then opened the file and started pulling out a few papers. “And these are bills, receipts to be reimbursed, and requests for funds I have to portion out properly.”

Jonathan nodded silently as he listened to his partner explain everything. He stood by for a little while, simply watching as the other man looked over the paper work, wrote notes in the notebook, and signed off on a few documents. He soon noticed, though, that Speedwagon was silently and subtly laying the papers out in a way that made them easier for Jonathan to read from his position.

Curious, Jonathan took a peek at the paperwork. Some forms were obvious things, such as medical equipment and supplies needing to be replaced, food for the dining hall, fresh linens, etc. Others were what looked to be paychecks for the staff, Jonathan noting that they were all payed quite well for their excellent work. Then, at one point, there was a particular paper that he didn’t quite understand the purpose of.

“Speedwagon, would it be alright for me to read this one?” He asked while pointing at the paper in question.

Speedwagon glanced to him after writing down the information from a similar paper. “Hm?” He looked at the paper in question and seemed hesitant to answer for a moment. “Oh, that one..hmh, I suppose it’s alright.” He then went back to writing his notes.

Jonathan picked up the paper curiously and read it. It seemed to be a letter addressed to Speedwagon himself:

“Dear Mr.Speedwagon,

We truly cannot thank you enough for your kind words and your help throughout our father’s final days. You have already done so much for our family, it seems selfish to expect anything more. Merely because you have insisted so strongly on the matter, below we have enclosed the amount requested from the funeral home for the service. It looks like many of us will be able to attend thanks to your arrangement of transportation for all who wished to attend, resulting in a much bigger reception than we initially thought.

Please, do not feel the need to pay the amount in full, as we would be more than happy to help pay the difference if it is too much to ask for.

Thank you once again for everything you have done. You are a blessing to this world.

-Sincerely, Peter and the rest of the Belmont family”

There was a pricing statement from the funeral home, as mentioned in the letter, and it was quite a substantial amount for the entire service. Something about the number seemed familiar though, and Jonathan leaned a bit closer to the desk to read the opened notebook more closely.

After scanning through the numbers written along the side, he found the exact amount listed with a note saying “Thomas Belmont- Completion of Contract” and an arrow pointing to the name of the funeral home to indicate the flow of money.

He found many other entries in there with similar wording, all with the names of, presumably, deceased patients and the words “Completion of Contract” followed by an arrow pointing to different funeral homes and churches with large amounts of money listed. There were also other things such as “travel expense for family of ___”, “last will and testament lawyer for ___”, and “recompense for family of ____”- all with the names of different people whom Speedwagon had already funded funerals for, with the recompense for the families being the highest amounts.

“Speedwagon?” Jonathan questioned while looking over the thousands of dollars that Speedwagon had spent on these services. “What does ‘completion of contract’ mean?”

Speedwagon finished another note, this one, Jonathan noticed, being listed as “last will and testament lawyer for William Adams”. He then reached into a drawer on the desk and pulled out what looked like a pre-written contract. “It’s referring to this.”

He handed the contract to Jonathan, who took it and began to read over the lengthy document. From what he could gather, it was essentially an agreement that the person signing the contract would give their full permission for their body to have certain organs and a pre-selected amount of their blood removed. In exchange for this, all of their final expenses including the hiring of a lawyer to help write out their final will and testament, their funeral, traveling funds for their family and friends to attend said funeral, and an agreed upon lump sum of money would be granted to the family of the deceased- all to be paid for by Robert Edward O. Speedwagon.

By the time he was done reading the contract, everything started to become crystal clear to Jonathan. He had been so blind to it all…

“Robert..” Jonathan began while setting the paper down on the desk and looking down at the other man. “Is this what the article was referring to when they claimed you were paying off the families of the deceased?”

“……” Speedwagon wrote one last note in the notebook before setting his pen down. He had a pained look on his face and, instead of looking at Jonathan as he spoke, his eyes stared ahead as if he was remembering something heartbreaking. “When you don’t have any money, or even just barely enough to get by, living can be hideously expensive. The only thing more expensive…is death.” He frowned, looking down at the papers strewn across his desk. “It’s never a cost that goes to you, but it still ends up falling on someone’s shoulders along the way. Hospitals, funerals, final rights, gravestones- it all adds up rather quickly. Then, if your loved ones don’t have enough money to pay for it, you just get burned away to ashes or left to rot in a hole somewhere with no record to prove where your final resting place was.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking slightly. “I’ve seen it ‘appen more times than I care to remember…too many good, honest men left t’ decay in a gutter or tossed in a heap to be burned just because the ones what loved ‘em couldn’t scrape together a few pounds for a plot o’ grass t’ be dug up..” His accent was growing thicker again, the memories clearly painful for him. “It just..it ain’t fair- chargin’ people money they can’t afford t’ stay alive, then forgettin’ ‘bout ‘em once their family ain’t got nothin’ left t’ give. It’s hauntin’, ‘earin’ widows cry or watchin’ children’ starvin’ on the streets just ‘cause they ain’t got ‘nough money t’ get by.” His hands gripped into fists where they rested on the desk, his head tilting down and shoulders shaking further. “It ain’t right. There’re so many people out there with more money than they can ever spend in their lifetime and they just..they don’t do nothin’ t’ ‘elp! There’re kids starvin’ t’ death, families loosin’ their ‘omes, and good, kind people dyin’ from things that should’ve stopped bein’ a death sentence ages ago jus’ ‘cause they can’t afford t’ see a doctor! It’s sick!” He looked up at Jonathan, his face contorted in pain and sorrow and tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I jus’ don’ get it! How?! Tell me- ‘ow can so many people jus’ see that shit every day and ignore it?! It’s disgustin’! I just- I don’ get it! I feel like I gotta do somethin’ t’ ‘elp or no one else will!!”

Jonathan’s heart clenched painfully at seeing his beloved so upset. He felt so strongly about this, so righteously furious and passionate..

Meanwhile, Jonathan had been just as guilty of not helping those in need aside from a few charitable donations here and there, as well as wrongly judging Speedwagon for actually DOING something to help those who truly needed it.

He felt absolutely disgusted with himself, but there would be time for self-loathing later.

“Robert..” He moved closer, wrapping his beloved up in a comforting embrace. “You are truly too good for this world, my love..” He held the other man close, leaning down for a better hold and so he could kiss his head sweetly. “You have such a kind heart and a generous soul. If anyone in this world could make a difference, I know it would be you.”

“I just..I..” Speedwagon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dried his face, but his eyes still looked red and shiny with tears. Despite his own grief, he managed to look up into Jonathan’s eyes with a sense of conviction. “I jus’ wanna do somethin’ t’ ‘elp..t’ live by the example that YOU taught me, Jojo. There’s already so much hate and darkness in this world- I wanna give back. I wanna put some kindness an’ hope int’ this messed up place t’ make up for everythin’ wrong with it. Places like this are just the startin’ point, I wanna do much more than I think I can even manage in my lifetime- I wanna build schools an’ orphanages an’ protect rare things in this world ‘fore they can disappear.” He looked back down slightly. “It’s probably selfish or conceited t’ think like this..but..I feel like I was givin’ this money for a REASON, y’ know? Like..I’m supposed t’ DO somethin’ grand with it..”

Jonathan’s face broke into a soft smile as he kneeled down to the floor and turned the other man’s chair so they could face each other properly. “I would hardly call that conceited, dear- I find it quite noble.” He gently placed a hand on the other’s still damp cheek while gazing into his eyes. “Many men in your position would have simply taken the divine providence and looked after themselves. YOU are not most men- you are far better than them.” His smile widened as he used his other hand to grab Speedwagon’s own and place tender kisses to it. “I am so very, very proud of the man you are and continue to be, Robert. You are still that same fiery, wise man I met on Ogre Street..and yet, at the same time, you have grown into someone even more incredible. Every day you continue to amaze me with the things you do, whether it is something as grand and world-changing as this hospital, or something as small and beautiful as watching you play with our son. I have learned so much more about the world through you than I ever could have before on my own.” He paused after that, thoughts of the past few weeks flooding his mind and that feeling of guilt returning horribly. He looked down, his face clearly showing his unhappiness with himself. “I really should listen to you more often. You are so much more knowledgeable about this world and what goes on it than I could ever hope to be. You were right to be upset with me- I was being a naive fool, forgetting that, though I am older than I was when we first met, I was still quite sheltered growing up. Every time I think I finally understand how cruel this world can be, I realize that you have truly seen the worst humanity has to offer…and I chastised you for trying to do something about it..” He squeezed the other’s hand gently, his chest feeling tight with his guilt and remorse. “I…hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. Though I may not deserve it, know that I will do all in my power to earn your trust again and that I shall always be on your side to fight your battles alongside you- just as you did for me all those years ago.”

He looked back up, expecting to find disappointment or some lingering sadness in those brown eyes he adored so openly. What he saw, however, was more warm and welcoming than a fireplace on a cold winter’s night: Love, adoration, affection, pride, gratitude, and joy, all conveyed through half-lidded eyes and a gentle smile.

“Jojo..” Speedwagon said while bringing his arms around Jonathan’s neck to pull him into an embrace, his chin resting on the larger man’s broad shoulder. “That’s all I wanted, love- t’ know that even if the whole world turns against me, that I’d still be doin’ right in your eyes.”

“Robert..” Jonathan wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, holding onto him tightly. “Always. There is no room for doubt in my mind any longer. Anything you need from this day forth, know that you will have my full, unconditional support.”

“Thanks, Jonathan.” Speedwagon said softly, burying his face against that same shoulder. “Thank you..”

Jonathan placed a light kiss to the smaller man’s neck with a loving smile. “You are the one far more deserving of thanks, my dearest.”

An hour or so later, Speedwagon walked Jonathan to the exit, the smile on his face letting Jonathan know that all had truly been forgiven from how warm and tender it was.

“Well then,” Speedwagon began once they were outside the front doors. “I have a few things t’ finish up here before I head home for the day. Do let George and Erina know I’ll be over for dinner, though.”

“Of course.” Jonathan replied with a bright smile, relieved to know that soon his beloved would be back home in his arms once more. “We will prepare something special to celebrate-”

“Mr.Speedwagon!” A voice interrupted their conversation rather rudely and insistently. They looked to see two men approaching them, one with a camera and another with a notepad and pen. The one with the notepad was the one who called out to Speedwagon and he made himself known with a rapid introduction. “Edward Gallmon from ‘The Ledger’ daily news. Tell me- are the allegations printed about you in ‘The Sunday Times’ article true? Is your hospital stealing body parts from deceased patients and paying the families to keep quiet about it?!” He had his pen ready to write down anything that was said at a moment’s notice.

“Not this again..” Speedwagon scowled slightly at the man’s pushiness. “I do wish you people would call first to schedule a proper interview, rather than just posting theories or bombarding me the moment I step outside.” He placed his hands on his hips and stated with a firm tone. “No, this hospital is not ‘stealing’ anything: We are utilizing new medical breakthroughs to extend the lives of many patients through surgeries that have not been explored before, some of which involve things such as transfusions of blood or organ replacement. Many of our deceased patients consented to having their various organs removed to help further this cause, and the money paid to their families was to help with final expenses.”

“And what of the allegations about your under-the-table dealings with the black market and various local mafia groups?” The reporter pressed on while writing down Speedwagon’s answer. “Many people out there speculate that this hospital is merely a cover-up for a smuggling ring. After all, there have been several incidents of people referring to you as a former criminal.”

Speedwagon was about to answer, but Jonathan beat him to it by placing a hand on his partner’s shoulder and giving the man in front of them a firm look telling him to be silent. “Robert Speedwagon is one of the kindest, most noble and caring men that I have ever had the pleasure to know, and I will thank you not to speak ill of him, good sir.”

The reporter cowed back slightly at the imposing figure that Jonathan cast when he felt like it. “A-And you are..?”

“Jonathan Joestar.” He answered, never breaking eye contact. “A longtime friend of Mr.Speedwagon, and a far more reliable judge of his character than anyone who would dare make such rude remarks about him.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait- ‘Joestar’? As in the noblemen? How did one such as yourself come to know Mr.Speedwagon?” He had his pen ready to write down any answer given to him.

Jonathan’s firm gaze softened when he turned his head to regard the blonde with a fond smile. “We met over a decade ago. He assisted me with tracking down some information I was desperate to find, saved my life when my family’s mansion was burned down in a horrible incident that nearly ended both of our lives, and has been a steadfast friend to my family ever since.” He left out the more dangerous, bizarre parts of the story, but the slight smile on Speedwagon’s face and the crinkle around his eyes showed that he was thinking about those days as well. “He is my dearest friend, has been a constant reassurance through the hardest days of my life, and is the godfather of my child.” He wanted to say “other father”, but knew that would only hurt Speedwagon’s reputation rather than help it. Instead, he looked back to the reporter with a look that was less stern than before, but not on the same fond, friendly level as the smile he’d given his partner. “Having said that, you are allowed to quote me for saying this:” The reporter rapidly finished what he had been writing and looked at Jonathan in excited anticipation for his next words. “Robert Speedwagon is a remarkable, kind hearted, selfless man who has the best interests of not only this hospital’s patients, but the entire world in mind with everything that he does. After being granted a tour of the facility and seeing everything he has accomplished here, I am proud to say that I shall be donating a substantial portion of my family’s fortune towards his future business endeavors.”

Speedwagon stared at him with a surprised expression, looking positively floored by Jonathan’s statement. “Jonathan…?”

“He is far wiser than I am and already has so many ideas for what can be done to improve the lives of so many people in need.” Jonathan smiled at his beloved again, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “This world needs help, and I can think of no man more suited to the task than Mr.Robert Edward O. Speedwagon.”

“……” Speedwagon stared at him for a moment, too stunned to speak. Eventually, a soft smile appeared on his face. “I appreciate the vote of confidence and shall do all I can to be worthy of such support.”

The look shared between them said “You already are” and “Thank you for believing in me”, and, as always, “I love you”.

There was a flash from the camera that captured that moment for posterity.

Later that evening, after he told the rest of his family about what transpired during his trip and that Speedwagon would be returning home soon, Jonathan busied himself with helping Erina prepare a nice dinner of roasted duck and root vegetables- one of Speedwagon’s favorites. Even George was eagerly helping by setting the table and making sure everything looked nice.

The sound of the front door opening drew everyone’s attention, but George was the first one to act. “Papa!” He shouted excitedly and took off for the other room. From their positions in the kitchen while they worked to finish plating everything, Jonathan and Erina could hear the conversation clearly. “Wow! Papa! Your hair!”

Speedwagon gave a chuckle and Jonathan could recognize the sound of him taking off his jacket and placing it on the coat rack. “What do you think, George? Too much?”

“It looks wonderful, papa!” They heard George’s footsteps as he walked quickly back towards the kitchen and dining room, apparently dragging Speedwagon behind him judging from the sound of the other’s steps. “Come on! You have to show mom and dad!”

Now even more curious about the other’s arrival, Jonathan and Erina finished their work in the kitchen and turned towards the doorway expectantly.

What they saw was startling, but it caused a mild flush to rise to Jonathan’s cheek: Speedwagon had cut his hair. Not just a light trim to deal with the split ends as he usually would, no- he had cut his long hair off completely and now had a much shorter, more mature style to his look.

Speedwagon looked between their stunned expressions for a moment before glancing down. “So..um..” He looked back to them with a shy smile, the tips of his red ears clearly visible without the long locks to hide them. “Whattaya think?”

Erina was the first to speak, as Jonathan was still caught up in staring at the gorgeous sight. “You look quite handsome, Robert.”

He smiled a bit more, though it still looked a little shy. “You really think so? I figured it was time for a change. I’m supposed t’ be a respectable businessman now, so ‘s about time I looked the part.” He turned his attention towards Jonathan and, oh. Oh that little smile and the way he looked at him was making Jonathan’s heart leap up into his throat. “Whattaya think, Jojo? Does it..look alright?”

Yes, Jonathan wanted to say. He looked amazing. Gorgeous. Handsome. Mature. Lovely. Wonderful.

So many adjectives he wanted to say at once died on his tongue and all that managed to come out was a strangled series of sounds. “Iii..uh..ah..” Brilliant, Jonathan, really doing your English teachers proud with that one.

Erina muffled a giggle behind her hand while side-eyeing Jonathan. “I do believe you’ve left him speechless, Robert.”

Speedwagon’s shy smile turned into a bright grin as he walked up to Jonathan. “Oh ‘ave I now?” He teased before giving Jonathan a peck on his burning hot cheek. “Good t’ know I can still manage that after all this time.”

Jonathan finally swallowed down the lump that had blocked off his throat and responded by wrapping his arms around the smaller man to prevent his attempted retreat. He smiled down at him, gazing into his lovely eyes with a soft smile. “You have not, nor ever will, cease to amaze and surprise me, my love.” He then kissed the other man squarely on the lips, ignoring the muffled giggles from both his wife and his son.

It was good to have his family together once again. He missed this warm, loving atmosphere, it was so much better than the stifling depression and irritation he allowed to consume him previously- he made a mental vow to never let that happen again for as long as he lived.

Later on they would enjoy a delicious home cooked meal, the family catching each other up on everything that transpired over the past few weeks. Then, that night, Jonathan would finally be able to sleep peacefully in his bed once more, happy to serve as a living pillow for the two loves of his life. The next day they would receive a copy of the morning paper on their doorstep with an article printed about supposed new advancements in medical technology at Speedwagon’s hospital and how he was receiving endorsements from the noble Joestar family. They would cut out the article and its picture of Speedwagon and Jonathan on the front, preserving it as the last photograph of the blonde’s long locks, and would go out as a family to take a group photo to serve as a sort of before-and-after. Then, at the end of that night, they would have a discussion about future business ventures and an organization that Speedwagon wanted to form with Jonathan’s assistance.

For now, though, they were happy to simply be together once again, glad that their relationship truly was strong enough to survive anything.

#jonawagonweek #jonawagon #jonathan joestar #robert e o speedwagon #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #erina pendleton #george joestar ii #jonaeri #jonaeriwagon

35 notes · View notes

brightsun-and-darkmidnight · 6 years ago

Text

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 24 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING: M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: Home.

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Loki observed Emma and how she pushed Alicia relentlessly.

Alicia did well enough while in visions and sparring in present time but when she came out of it… her eyes were glazed and dull but was able to keep up the purposely planned movements for a little longer when the present caught up with the future he witnessed her panick when she was beaten.

It took more than 5 minutes to regain her sight back Loki tried not to show it but he felt distressed as she tried not to cry but the tears fell from her clouded eyes.

Emma healed her eyes and explained, "she only loses her sight with present visions. As you can see she can tap into them herself but if she is in them more than 3 minutes her eyesight is impaired… Let me show you her visions she already drew." Emma left Alicia to rest with a beverage but Alicia was studying the room with slow moving eyes.

Loki was lead to a wall as Emma started to explain. There were a ton of visions that he recognized to already happen. Some detailed and others not. Some connected to others. The others by themselves.

Emma pointed to a series of visions. "We have been focusing on before the trigger vision. It helps figure out what happens after better than getting the the after visions. It is weird, I know. But. If the trigger vision is in detail the higher the chance of it happening as drawn. No lean way."

That detailed vision was last night with the reporters capturing their needed date night, with a magazine section. The picture of them walking to their table in the restaurant, a few of them dancing and then a picture of the park. "Make-up after the break-up?" Loki refrained from reacting to the vision because he was upset Alicia knew it would happen and none of it was a surprise at all.

Emma pointed to a very rough sketch as the past visions were more detailed, "there is a ton of lean way with vague drawings." The vision was of a mission Loki was on a few days ago. The gun man aimed right at Natasha but there were no more details than that.

Loki knew that scene. Peter had webbed the man and strung him up by the joined hands. The man had information as to where the weapons were stored for another planned mass attack.

Emma pointed to the vision of the attack that killed 58 people. "Everyone knew this was going to happen but because it was drawn in details… it happened just as you see here." Emma sighed, "sometimes it is better to let things happen. Such as this…" Emma moved to a vision of the Midgardian leaders agreeing on the construction of the Bifrost.

"Which visions are SHEILD aware of?"

"All of them. Fury has been… cooperative for the most part." Emma waved her hand at the attack that killed 58 individuals, "he insisted Alicia made that better. I let her but it's likely she really didn't do anything that wouldn't have happened. The Avengers would have been called sooner or later. Fixing a severed wound with the added drawings are a child's bandaid...meant to comfort more than actually fix something." Emma crossed her arms and sighed… "Alicia really is… "

Loki followed Emma's steady gaze to Alicia who was sparing with the extra training member. He was a standard Asgardian soldier. Loki caught her eyes losing the brightness then transitioned to her normal color. She seemed to forget where she was and barely had time to put up a shield that did not waver but instead pushed outwards and knocked the attacker back as she lunged forward.

Alicia did the same as she always did while training with her family. Hesitation at the end.

Emma finished her thought, "soft hearted."

Loki rooted himself to the ground as Alicia was wrestled to the ground and she grunted at a hard slam. Then a punch to her nose and she was disoriented the guard started to choke her.

Emma spoke as Loki moved forward, "Relax. She either wins or gets...a little rest."

Loki watched as Alicia's watery eyes opened and she used her legs to push the guard away and elbows to break the hold. She rolled on top and hesitated. The guard easily overpowered her but she put her hand on his chest and the man wheezed. Alicia let the man pass out and then healed him.

Emma spoke to Loki, "she can handle her own. But the hesitation is the problem. You'd think it was being a collector for Marcibeth's unwilling informants for so long…" Emma sighed as she glared at the ground, "Alicia really doesn't want to fight at all."

Loki took his eyes off of Alicia downing a bottle of water and the finger marks on her neck steadily disappear, "How is she dealing with the visions emotional ties?"

"All of the visions she has experienced with me were forced. She hasn't had any natural visions."

"So no bleeding effect?" Loki was studying Emma.

"No. I am considering leaving her to herself for a little. I am confident she will be fine. She has plenty of ways how to handle herself now."

"So I don't need to persuade her to take off of work to go on a vacation?"

Emma laughed, "I am granting her freedom for the time being. However it's her choice what she does with that freedom." Emma gave Loki a wide smile, "Enjoy your anniversary. I figured you would be here to take her away."

Loki tried to hide the smile and looked elsewhere when the smile grew. Without a word he walked to Alicia.

She grinned up at him. "Don't you dare get the weird idea to smell me."

Loki's nose wrinkled, "I can smell you already. You need to get a shower…" Of Course Loki made it sound suggestive. Loki grinned at her sparkling eyes and playful glare. Loki lost the suggestive tone gestured to the door. "Well, go get ready I'll pack your bags."

Alicia scrunched her eyes and rose an eyebrow. "Bags?-What about?"

"Everything is taken care of. I know I told you we would just go to dinner, as all of the celebrations before…" Loki smiled and made Alicia's poor tone of mocking him, "but I have a reputation to maintain as the God of Lies and Mischief."

Alicia rolled onto her back and laughed, "I have waited so long for you to do that!"

Loki played with the collar of his shirt, "That was more humiliating than I was prepared for…"

Emma snickered, "I'll do my best to forget.. You two have fun."

Loki forced Alicia into the bathroom and told her to soak in the tub. Promising they had a lot to do. He got many outfits, mostly comfortable as they would be lounging around. He just started to look through her lingerie drawer when he heard the teasing tone.

"Are you a panty raider now?"

"I do like these ones…" Loki saw her excited face as he held them out to her.

Alicia held out her hand, "Shall I put them on now?"

She should know better than to trust him, "They are going to stay on until late tonight." He laughed too loud at the fall of her face. "I set out an outfit for you on your bed." Loki took the lingerie and waved his hand towards the door, "everything is picked out."

Loki had servants load the car, then also the personal jet he requested. All travel was normal with how much Alicia traveled for SHIELD before, then also the dozen of times she went to the city of Asgard as well as most of his interviews. Alicia was excited when they landed in the usual airport for Norway however, a little confused when they didn't go the usual way to the main city of Asgard. She questioned with different words to try to get him to slip but in conclusion, he did not give a slight hint.

She was even more confused when they went to a house with plenty of land. It was two houses connected by a breezeway. One for Alicia and Loki and 3 extra bedrooms. The other house was for the servants. Four bedroom house as well, but all of the servants had significant others who also helped run the land.

It was everything Alicia would ever need with more than standard kitchen and living room. Their bedroom had a connection to each of their own bathrooms and closets. There was enough room for visitors. Rooms to pass time such as; a study with books and a section for Alicia to draw, a gym, an entertainment room with a large TV over a fireplace. An inside pool that was also connected by the breezeway. Outside was a large sitting place around a fire pit.

The head of the staff showed them around. After they were left to their room were their things were already unpacked Alicia flopped on the bed with a sigh. Loki waited patiently for Alicia to open her eyes. They sparkled as she finally looked through the skylight.

Loki laid beside her and played with her hair, "I hope this is too your satisfaction."

"Loki.. this place is wonderful. It's like a dream house.." her eyes danced around their room.

"Everything is perfect? The location, design, structure..?"

Alicia smiled and rolled on top of him, "Beyond perfect."

Loki had to do it now or he knew it would not be asked, "Would you like it to be yours?"

Alicia's face was confused then smiled with a laugh as she sat up, "what are you talking about?"

Loki studied her face as he explained, "I had this designed and built for you. For us."

Alicia lit up, "this is...ridiculous… I mean goodness, Loki. This is quite a gift. I can't top this."

Loki laughed, truly laughed. He earned a gentle caress to his face.

"What I mean to say is thank you. I love it." She kissed his lips and she gave him a mind-blowing kiss. Nothing was rushed, everything was perfect. Especially as she pressed her upper body against his and encased him in her arms.

She pulled away but Loki was breathless and he had to remember how to open his eyes. She was gently brushing her nose on his. She pressed her forehead to his and her soft eyes were focused on his.

"I love you so much. More than I was prepared to love in my entire life. You never fail to amaze me. To surprise me. When I get comfortable, you find ways to keep me on my toes. I love all of you. Every single bit. Especially the mischievous parts. I want you forever. I need you. Without you I… I miss you terribly. These past several weeks were absolutely terrible without you. I need you. Always."

The last word echoed in his mind...

Loki smirked, "you took the words right from me.." Loki rolled them to the side and held her close.

Alicia got close to him and placed her head to his neck. Loki placed his head on hers as they laid in calm silence. She fell asleep and Loki removed her shoes and covered her with a spare blanket. If Loki could prevent any disruption to the peace he would.

The future held other plans of pain. With a long and steady sigh, he went to the study contemplating the main question at hand… Should he ask or wait?

Alicia was his life.

Loki swore he would protect her.

Marcus did give his blessing.

With a pen in hand the question turned to what could be said... Loki could not write on the paper. All the words left him. He could not decide where to start. Finally he made a list of everything that described her. Wrote why he loved those qualities and quirks. Now all he had to do is put all of that into a speech. He jotted down a few rough drafts. With soft footsteps and a quiet knock from the entry door, Loki hid the papers and approached as Alicia called for him in question.

Alicia draped the blanket over her and leaned against the doorframe. She held her arms out and encased him in warmth, put her face in his neck and placed lazy kisses.

There was a knock. "Dinner will be ready in an hour." The elder man bowed and walked silently through the hallway.

Loki and Alicia went to their own spaces to get ready. Loki put extra effort into looking his absolute best. He was done before her and waited for her. He looked out the window, the leaves varied in color and caught the light from the sky. Loki pulled the box from his pocket. He questioned if it was good enough for her to wear everyday.

Her door opened and Loki put the ring in his Seder pocket.

His words were stolen from him. She smiled and looked at the ground. Loki went and lifted her chin.

"You keep stealing every word from me today. Halting every thought with how… speechless you make me."

Alicia gave him a teasing smile, "does the tiger have your tongue?"

Loki scoffed, "while I hate how he flirts with you, he designs clothes for you that..captivate me." Loki leaned forward and held eye contact until their lips met. He felt Alicia's hands rest on his chest.

Alicia eased her hand into his with a growing smile, "let's go eat. I am starved."

Loki chuckled and lead her through the house. The conversation over dinner updated each other on various things such as media conversations, tower drama, missions and training. Loki missed their talks they had in the apartment. He missed the general apartment life. He loved knowing they could create that everywhere.

He knew Alicia created the feeling he loved.

Alicia was a place he belonged, she was home.

Alicia laughed and brought him out of the world of comfort.

"Susan's family, especially the kids want us to go to their Christmas party. It is your first party request. I haven't given an answer yet I wanted to ask you first." Alicia forced a smile with the way her lips threatened to turn down, "it will only be a few hours."

Loki confessed as his eyes wandered over her form, "I have never watched children longer than - what we interacted with on our little fans."

Sadness covered her features as she stared into his, "We don't need to stay long or you don't even have to go.."

Loki held her hand that was pressed onto the table, "I would love to go."

Her eyes lightened as her bright smile returned, "Don't look so excited, Justin is a handful by himself."

"And what is the joyful look on your face?"

Alicia looked at her plate and poked at it, "I love kids. I doubt I will have my own, but it is really great to be around them."

"We only talked about that once… do you want to open that discussion again?"

Alicia smiled and hid her face with her hair by looking down. "I know we get Edward and Luit in custody, so… maybe we could consider it then?"

Loki brushed the hair out of her face and she leaned into his hand. With a wide smile she spoke his favorite words promoting Loki repeated her and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Loki encouraged her to eat and they would get showers, comfy clothes and lounge with each other. They did as he said.

Loki was already on the bed with a book when Alicia emerged from her personal bathroom.

Alicia's hair was still wet and she pulled it up. "If we have children… I'm cutting my hair. Above my shoulders."

A flashback of her hair cut from the bullies.

Alicia crawled to him and arranged herself next to him. "Please read."

Loki read to her and she stared at him. Then her eyes caught the light show he wanted her to experience.

She breathed out a, "Thank you." Then pulled him for a kiss.

#Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder #check triggers #check description #loki #brightsun-and-darkmidnight #chapter 24

2 notes · View notes