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levi501ackerman · 11 days ago

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Steel Heart Chapter 26: Silent Hill

Hange x Reader Chapter Index Masterlist AO3

Megan's Note: Posted 11/22/24 12:45am LMAO

Word Count: 5.1k

Though it was quite obvious that you and five knights escaped the temple, the number of deaths truly settled in when you returned to the location of the camp. Hills of tents filled your view. Hills. Nearly two hundred tents were covering the grassy landscape.

Your stomach dropped and was pulled down further by the weight of your guilt. Each tent on the hill greeted you and reminded you of their deaths. Pressure was building in your nose, and chills were scattered on the edge of your face. As you rode closer to the camp, the empty tents were unavoidable and you had to confront the conclusion that these were the consequences of your actions.

The afternoon’s cloudy grey sky felt darker with your conscience. Your inner turmoil was convincing yourself that the five knights were blaming you. Their fingers were pointing at you. Though you didn’t want to be captured by the Marleyan Cult and you didn’t want anyone to die , the price was paid. The deal was sealed by the cost of deaths, and the tents on the hills advertised the victory.

No one said a word.

Even after taking care of the horses and walking past the tents belonging to the ghosts of their comrades, no one said a word. The sounds of steel armor clattered as the knights removed parts of their armor. Eren held the upper half of his armor, and Connie tugged on his shirt to cool his chest. Hange looked exhausted. Their shoulders were slumped and their eye was glossed over. You thought they hadn't blinked for a while.

Levi was in front of the group and trudging to the center of the camp. There was ample open space between the tents, and some of the supply carts were parked in the central grassy area. The large conference tent came into view and the familiar sanctuary gave you a sense of safety.

Your stomach rumbled, and you swallowed, feeling the swollen, raw skin surrounding your vocal cords. It felt selfish to voice your hunger, and you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. The knights around you had already done so much, and mentioning you were hungry only asked for more.

Grass crunched under the weight of the heavy feet and the air was getting colder. The fabric of the dark green tents flapped in the breeze and then fell when the wind stopped.

“I’ll start a fire,” Connie said as you reached the edge of the large grassy center of the tents.

“Thanks, Connie.” Hange’s voice was low, and their reply urged you to speak, but Levi beat you to it.

“There are plenty of clean washcloths, and I’ll prepare some buckets. I suggest washing up before anything else.” Levi headed for one of the large wooden carts that held supplies while rubbing his right cheek.

You sat on a log near the firepit, wanting to be out of everyone’s way. Levi retrieved three large tin buckets from the supply cart and Hange was with him, getting a bag to store Willy Tybur’s head in. They were talking low with each other, and their discussion was kept private from everyone else. You realized it was most likely the first time they had personally spoken with each other since heading into battle. Admiration filled your heart as you watched Levi and Hange converse quietly. Then you recalled a moment when you and Levi were on the main staircase of the Marleyan Cult’s Temple. When Levi recognized your frantic reaction was due to a bond with Hange that was beyond ‘just friends.’ There was an odd sense of comfort in Levi knowing. After the anxiety of getting caught past and there was a new sense of clarity, you recognized a hidden desire for Levi’s approval.

You’re getting married.

Your petrifying thoughts reminded you of your destiny. Though you were rescued, you were also closer to Mitras Castle. You stared at the grass, listening to Connie rub two sticks together to create a fire. How soon would you be forced to marry Prince Marco Bodt, whom you had never met? What about Hange?

The sparks that Connie created with two sticks attached and flooded the wood with heat. The small flames gradually grew and dominated the logs. The hypnotizing flickering fire warmed your hands, legs, and face. You stared into the fire, finding comfort and basked in its warmth.

Levi brought over three buckets filled with shallow water and six rags. The six of you drenched the rags and cleaned the blood, grime, and dirt off your skin. The cool water dripped down your neck, and your face felt refreshed. Niccolo wrung his rag, letting the dirty liquid fall into the dirt. Eren aggressively rubbed the washcloth against his face, using the friction to try to relieve the itch the stibnite thorns gave him.

“That’s enough, Eren,” Levi said sternly while scrubbing the dirt out under his nails. “Have the discipline not to scratch or cut!”

“The feeling will decrease by tomorrow morning and most likely, the sensation will be gone by the following day.” Hange’s rag was stained a dark red, even after wringing the liquid into the grass. “On another note, since there are only six of us, we should dress casually until the ride into Mitras Castle. We can look like a group of friends or colleagues camping.”

“Give her new clothes. Her shirt is disgusting,” Levi said, acknowledging the blood, dirt, and grime on the white cotton shirt that Hange lent you. “I’ll get water for you.”

His words were like a trigger and you realized how raw and irritated your throat was. From all the screaming earlier, your throat felt scratchy, and throughout the ride to the camp, you kept clearing it. You cleared the mucus in your throat and then spoke.

“Thank you.” The meek voice was all you could muster.

“I suggest an early meal so we can start packing the tents, belongings and gathering names. I don’t want to do this in the dark.” Levi set his rag on the brim of the tin pail.

“I’m not hungry. Let’s just get started.” Hange said and they stared at the patch of grass between their feet and the tin pail. Hange’s glum face was unmistakable and you wanted to hug them then and there. You wanted to take Hange’s taunting memories away from them, but you couldn’t help the turmoil hovering in your brain.

“I think we should all eat, even if we don’t feel like it . . .” Hange gave you a soft smile.

“You’re right . . .” Hange dropped their rag on the brim of the bucket and then it slid off and landed on the grass. “Let’s change clothes.” Hange motioned her hand, beckoning you to follow. You dropped your rag into the bucket's water, causing it to splash. Hange was nearly at the entrance of the large conference tent. As they were about to enter, they turned over their shoulder, addressing Levi. “Leave some water so I can wash Sawney!”

You lightly jogged, wanting to catch up, but they entered the tent. Anticipation was building in your chest and you felt like you were getting your first moment alone with Hange.

Hange was lighting two candles when you entered. The large conference tent was the same as it was always set up. The table and two chairs were in the middle, a pile of Hange’s swords on the ground, a bedroll in the corner, and a few bags of unpacked items next to a cage with a tan furry—

“RAI!” You exclaimed and rushed over to your pet bunny that you hadn’t seen in so long. Your hands were shaking from joy, trying to unlock the cage. Rai looked bigger, as if she had grown a little while you were gone. When you opened the cage, Rai jumped out on the table and you tried to pick her up, but her quick hop escaped your grasp. She scurried to the side of the table where Hange was and stood on her hind feet. Rai wiggled her nose, looking up at Hange. When Hange lit the second candle, they blew the match out and picked up Rai. The excitement started to fade when you realized Rai bonded with Hange while you were locked away in the room in the tallest tower. Hange held Rai against their chest. They noticed your excitement fading and walked around the table toward you.

“She missed you,” Hange’s voice was soft, bringing Rai closer to you. You gingerly placed two fingers on Rai’s head, petting her.

“I missed you so much, Rai.” You whispered tenderly. Rai was comfortably lying in Hange’s arms and you couldn’t help but conclude that it would make sense why Rai liked Hange more than you. Now that you were rescued from the Marleyan Cult, you were determined to bond with your bunny. You recalled the last moment you saw Rai before being abducted. “I told you I’d be right back!”

“Here . . .” Hange leaned forward, offering for you to take Rai. You carefully placed your hands around Rai and pulled her from Hange’s arms. Rai wiggled but ultimately gave in to you holding her. You held her against your chest and smiled at her. She was so precious. Free of judgment and oblivious to the danger you and the knights endured. Rai was pure, vulnerable, and needed protection. You held her, admiring how adorable her little nose was sniffing your fingers and hands. “I have a pale yellow shirt and a light blue shirt . . . I only have this extra black pair of pants until we get to the Orvud District Headquarters.”

“What are you going to wear?” You placed Rai back into the cage and closed the latch.

“Whichever one you don’t pick,” you looked between the two shirts, scrunched up your face. Hange noticed your disappointed expression. They read you like a book and tilted their head. “Unfortunately, my dear, we won't be able to twin until we get our clothes washed.”

“That one,” You pointed at the light blue collared long-sleeve shirt.

As you changed into the light blue shirt, Hange was taking off the rest of their steel armor. The cool air hit your skin and caused you to shiver while you took off the filthy white shirt. You felt chills on your back, not from the air but from a lingering stare.

“You scared me, you know . . .” Hange whispered. Your head hung low, and a lump formed in your throat. Though their tone was full of disapproval, a tinge of fear laced their words. You sighed, letting all the regret spill out before you.

“I was scared,” You buttoned up the light blue shirt. There was so much you wanted to say to Hange—so much jumbled in your thoughts, but the overwhelming feelings left you frozen and unresponsive. You struggled to explain yourself. You barely spoke those days in the room in the tallest tower. Only gazing out the large arch opening, hoping to see the knights in the valley. The best you could muster out with a cracked voice was an apology. “I’m so sorry. You and Levi must have been so mad—”

“I wasn’t.”

“Really?”

“I was terrified ,” you faced Hange as you heard their footsteps approach you. They placed their hands gently on their shoulder. Their hands were shaking and their eye was dilated. “I struggled to sleep. . . thinking about what could have been happening to you—”

“Every day. I dreamed you would rescue me . . . I was terrified about you. ” Hange exhaled, closed their eye, and rested their forehead against yours. Two swans. Their thick eyelashes framed their eyelid. “I worried that something happened to you, Levi, and the rest of the knights after I was taken. As each day passed, I was convinced you were attacked and you weren’t coming for me . . .”

Hange pulled you against their chest and you wrapped your arms around their waist. They rested their chin on the top of your head. To be in their arms was comforting and delightful because there wasn’t trouble or hardships while being held by Hange. They are the light in the dark.

“Y/N . . .”

“What has happened since I’ve been gone?!” You pulled away from Hange. The pale yellow shirt complimented the warm brown of their eye. Hange sighed and walked back around the table to a bag. “Where did all the . . . knights come from?” It felt awful to speak of them. You would never be able to personally thank them for their contributions to being rescued.

“ . . . We have a lot to catch up about.” Hange’s eyes were downcasted to the bag they were searching through. They pulled out a container holding several glasses and placed a wire-rimmed pair on their face. “I want to know what happened to you while you were there.”

“It—”

“Levi would want to know too,” Hange interjected, walking to the tent flap. You glanced at Rai in her cage and wanted to spend more time with her. Before exiting the tent, you grabbed Rai's cage and figured she was hungry. Feeding her would be an excellent way for her to bond with you. You carried her excitedly out of the tent and when the cool air flushed your body, you hoped Rai wasn’t freezing.

Levi, Connie, and Eren were mostly out of their suits of armor. They were cleaning the grime and blood that stained their steel armor. Niccolo had most of his armor off and stood over a pot of water that was heating. Your mouth watered at the thought of Niccolo’s mushroom risotto he served you back in Karanese District. If he were making that, you would be sleeping with a full stomach.

“Did you guys return to Karanese to get Niccolo? Or was he part of the knights that joined to rescue me?” You whispered to Hange as you approached the logs.

“How Niccolo came to us is . . . different from how the others joined. He betrayed the Marleyan Cult.” You stopped in your tracks at Hange’s words. Niccolo was a traitor? Your breathing was heavier and Hange stepped before you, shielding you from the men’s view.

“What do you mean?” You blinked rapidly, recalling Niccolo’s pleasant and polite manner as he served his food to you, Levi, Jean, and Connie. Did Niccolo betray the Marleyan Cult before or after the Marleyan Cult ambushed the Karanese District Headquarters down? The image of Niccolo murdering Hange while they slept flashed in your mind. Your shoulders tensed up, cringing at the idea of Niccolo gutting Levi, beating Connie, and slicing Eren’s neck, then capturing you. Reiner, who followed Willy Tybur’s orders and brought you food, was also in the Karanese Headquarters. How could Hange and your knights trust him? What if Niccolo was working with another person and planned on betraying your knights? You narrowed your eyes, watching Niccolo set a pan on top of the logs for the fire. What if he planned on poisoning the food?

“After you were abducted, Niccolo betrayed Willy Tybur and told us every—”

“And you believe that makes him trustworthy?” Like a beg, you wanted Hange to be cautious. As cautious as you. Hange noticed the untrusting eyes in your pointed expression. Hange looked over their shoulder; Niccolo was melting butter in his pan.

“Niccolo is the reason we knew where the Marleyan Cult’s temple was. He is the reason we knew what to expect when going there. Niccolo told me how to kill a titan .” Hange's quiet voice seeped into your mind and a thoughtful acknowledgment of their discernment crept into the forefront.

In the past, trust was inherited by new protectors by the words of the previous ones. Fairy Godmother Christa and Ymir trusted Sir Miche Zacharius, so you did. Sir Zacharius trusted Captain Levi, so you did. Captain Levi trusted his squad, so you did. Captain Levi trusted Dame Hange, so you did. The chain of trust was partly tethered with naivety.

“Hange, I trust you with my life and I know you spent more time with Niccolo, but I don’t fully trust him.”

“You don’t have to.” The anxious thoughts dissipated with Hange’s simple statement. “You don’t have to like your allies. However, I think you should acknowledge the role he had in rescuing you.”

“Yes—Yes of course, I will.” You and Hange exchanged a warm smile and held Rai’s cage tighter. “But what if he poisons our dinner?” Hange let out a chuckle you haven’t heard or seen in a while. Their contagious laugh painted a smile on your face. “I’m serious!”

“I know!” Their face amused and flushed a tint of pink. Then, Hange brought one of their hands in front of their smile. Their lips had a pleasant, warm hue. “It’s adorable.”

“I’m serious, Hange Zoe!” You nudged their arm but couldn’t hide that they infected you delightfully.

“I know. I know . . . don’t worry. He has not cooked alone.” Hange’s reassurance compelled a sense of security. When you and Hange started walking to the center of the camp again, Levi caught your eye. He was looking back and forth between the two of you. You couldn’t help but want to know what he was thinking. You knew he wanted to protect you and Hange, but his mind had a sense of worry rather than anger.

You sat on a log close enough to the fire but far enough that if Niccolo did try anything, you would have enough time to react and run away. Hange sat on your left and crossed their legs. Rai’s cage rattled as you placed it on your lap, then Niccolo lifted his eyes from the pan and offered you a friendly smile. You smiled politely, feeling indecisive about your opinion of him.

“Are you hungry, your Highness?” His brown eyes flickered to the strips of meat, and then he grabbed a few pieces and laid them in the pan. Being alone with Hange distracted you from your hunger, but Niccolo’s question instantly caused your stomach to growl. The scent of the meat frying in the pan filled the air and your mouth watered.

“Yes.”

“Here’s some water,” Levi said, approaching you. Your eyes widened at the leather water container. He handed you the container and you plucked the cap off and chugged the water. The cool water ran down your throat, then pooled and spread through your chest. The dehydration wasn’t recognizable until the water fell into your mouth. When you emptied the bottle, your chest was heaving as you caught your breath.

“Thank you, Levi” You placed the cap back on the leather water container. “Do you have the rest of my possessions?”

“I have them.” Hange perked up. “They’re in the tent. Your cloth bag, nightgown, and cloak—”

“Which you should put on,” Levi interjected. You exchanged knowing glances with Hange; they suppressed their smirk in front of Levi. It was like you were sharing the same amusing thoughts about him. Already, he’s telling you to follow his uptight rules.

“Relax, Levi. Y/N will be fine.” Hange waved him off.

“Well . . . we aren’t twinning anymore .” You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Now people will be able to tell us apart.”

Hange nudged you with their elbow, and it was like you were never taken. Their playful spirit was always light-hearted, and they knew how to cheer up any conversation.

The grey clouds cleared while Niccolo was cooking dinner. The blue sky was dull, and the sun hovered in the west. While Niccolo was preparing a pasta dish, Hange and Levi were grimly discussing the names of the fallen knights. Hange had several papers filled with names of their squad, Levi’s, and the knights of the Scout Regiment from Orvud District. You stared at Rai, who was adorably resting in their cage. Her eyes were closed, and she flinched when you poked your index finger through the small space, trying to pet her. Rai’s eyes flew open. Then, after a few blinks, she didn’t mind you petting her.

“Your rabbit is pretty adorable,” Niccolo said as he cracked an egg, separating the yolk from the whites.

“Thank you.”

“Have you ever had braised rabbit?” Your eyes darted to his, then looked him up and down. Niccolo laughed at your disgusted, scrunched-up face. “I’m sorry, Princess. I guess I shouldn’t have asked that after complimenting your rabbit.”

“Yeah . . . so what are you making?” You asked, wanting to get off the conversation about eating rabbits. You could tell Niccolo was cooking a noodle dish, but the meat and eggs confused you. They didn’t seem like they would go together.

“You’re going to love this dish, Princess. It’s pasta carbonara. I think this wonderful dish will be great after the day we had.”

“Okay.”

“It’s noodles in a sauce with oil from fried pig’s meat, egg yolk, pecorino, and pepper. Some chefs add a touch of cream—I would, but I don’t have any with me. Typically, carbonara is made with guanciale, but it can be made with bacon.”

“Uh, nice.”

The sun was beginning to lower itself in the west sky and there were a few hours left of daylight. When Niccolo served his carbonara, the aroma of the bacon and pasta filled your nostrils. The creamy pasta was topped with bits of bacon and pepper. The savory sauce melted in your mouth, and you ate half the plate in seconds.

Everyone was disregarding their manners except Levi—of course. Hange was shoving the noodles into their mouth and Eren was already asking for another plate when Niccolo just finished plating his dinner. You wanted to lick the plate of all the sauce, but you knew you couldn’t do it in front of everyone. If Fairy Godmother Christa learned about your terrible manners, though it displayed how much you loved the sauce, she would smack you. Hange, Levi, Connie, and Eren endlessly praised Niccolo for the delicious and satiating meal. You scraped every last bit of the sauce with your fork.

While staring at Niccolo, you felt guilty for not fully trusting him. The only thing that changed how you felt about him was that he was a member of the Marleyan Cult. When he was serving you lunch at the Karanese Headquarters, no indication or behavior pointed to him being a cultist. A thought came across your mind. The same thought you had when you gazed out the window and looked down at the battle between the knights and the Marleyan Cultists the night in Karanese District. They looked like normal people. People’s thoughts and views filter and differentiate them from one another. Niccolo betrayed the Marleyan Cult because he didn’t want to side with them anymore.

“Niccolo . . .” You waited for him to swallow the pasta he had in his mouth, and his brown eyes met yours. With the others eating and sitting on logs around the fire, they were subjected to listening. “Hange told me that you betrayed the Marleyan Cult and told them the location of the temple. They also told me that you told everyone how the cult would likely defend the temple. So . . . thank you for your contribution in rescuing me.”

The sounds of the clattering utensils gathering the noodles paired with the pops of the fires. You weren’t sure whether to include the question you had for him. To ask why. But you were unsure if you wanted to know why he betrayed the Marleyan Cult. You were curious if he knew about the women chained in the dark.

“Princess Y/N,” Niccolo set his fork on his plate, giving you his full attention. “I severed all ties with the Marleyan Cult. I enjoyed being a Knight of the Scout Regiment and cooking in the kitchen.” He carefully set his plate on the grass and kneeled, placing his right fist over his heart. “Forgive my past and know I am loyal to you and the Royal family.”

“Thanks.”

Over the course of dinner, you told the knights about what happened while being held captive by the Marleyan Cult and how you were abducted. You started off by explaining how Jean convinced you that the knight you saw in the forest was Erwin Smith. You believed him because how Jean described Erwin matched up with Willy Tybur. However, due to Jean’s concussion, his mind was relating Willy Tybur to Erwin Smith. You fully trusted Willy Tybur until you noticed the jewels on his sword were orange, not blue like Jean told you.

Everything that Willy Tybur explained to you about the power of the nine and the plan to revive the other eight spilled from your mouth. The knights wondered if you were abused or mistreated, but you explained how they brought you well-rounded meals. Hange fumed when you told the incident when Willy Tybur slapped you, but that was the only physical misconduct. The ritual was everything the knights expected. The plan to use you as a host and the Founding Titan drinks your blood after pricking your finger on a crystalized spindle. The detail they didn’t expect was when you explained the six jeweled swords. It wasn’t the power of the six swords but rather the specific six gemstones infused with royal ashes. The six gemstones get crushed into a powder and, when ignited, create a large explosion, large enough to wipe out the entire island.

Hange and Levi explained how Daz took Jean to the castle along with a letter to the real Erwin Smith and the Queen. Then, the knights rode to Orvud District Headquarters and gathered more knights and supplies to prepare for the journey toward the Marleyan Cult’s Temple. The temple is northwest of Orvud District and Niccolo helped Hange and Levi devise a plan to attack the Marleyan Cultists. After sharing everything you could remember, the knights cleaned up supper and prepared to start packing. They attached two empty carts to two horses to follow around and carry the fallen knight’s possessions.

Hange and Levi wanted to get started on packing all the tents and belongings they could before sundown. You wanted to help somehow, but Levi didn’t want to use the time to teach you how to break down the tents. With just the five of them, it would still take over two hours, maybe closer to three, to finish packing nearly two hundred tents.

Hange suggested washing their horse for them, which you eagerly agreed, knowing that was something you could successfully do. Their white mustang was stained in the blood of the cultists. It was like the horse laid in a puddle of blood. The metallic scent of the dried blood laced with the overwhelming odor of the horses. You scrubbed Hange’s white mustang with a brush and water from the buckets used earlier. The blood fell off the white hairs of Sawney, with beads of dewy pink droplets falling to the ground.

When you started washing Hange’s horse, Beauty trotted over to where you were. She stood behind you, waiting and blowing air from her nostrils as if she were waiting for you to pet her. You thought it was cute until she kept nudging your back with her muzzle.

The two horses were pulling wooden carts filled with packed tents on the hills. The first cart was halfway filled by the time you were done washing Sawney. Hange’s horse was drenched and clean—free of blood. His majestic body glimmered in the rays of the sunset and you couldn’t help but pretend Sawney was thanking you when he nickered.

You trudged back to the center of the camp lethargically. You wanted to stay near Hange and the rest of the knights, but your eyelids felt heavy. The emotional and physical events of the day were starting to settle in. You were looking forward to sleeping. With a full stomach of pasta carbonara and the secure feeling of being in the presence of the knights, you knew you were going to sleep deeply.

When you entered the conference tent, you noticed Rai was sleeping in her cage. Her little nose was twitching and you could see the rise and fall of her furry chest. There was a fluttering feeling in your heart watching her sleep. It warmed your soul having a precious animal that you could call yours. You moved her cage closer to your bedroll so you could keep her close while lying down. Rai’s eyes opened, then instantly closed when she noticed it was you.

Though you wanted to fall asleep as soon as possible, you wanted to be with Hange. So you waited. You laid in the bedroll with your eyes closed, and when you felt yourself slipping into slumber, you jolted awake. Lying on the ground in a bedroll was more comforting than the bed in the room in the tallest tower. With every deep breath you inhaled, you felt lighter and felt the knots untwined in your stomach.

A while after, Hange came into the tent. You could feel their fond glance on your half-asleep self. With a mumbling moan, you tried to tell them you were awake.

“What was that?” Hange’s voice was low and hypnotizing. They quietly chuckled.

“I’m awake,” your weak voice said. Then you closed your eyes and rolled onto the side where you were facing Hange’s bedroll. Somewhere between the distant lulls of dream and wake, you could hear Hange shuffling around the room. They were putting stuff away and blowing out candles. Before you know it, Hange was naked and crawling into their bedroll. You lazily inched closer to Hange, feeling their figure through the bedroll. Hange’s warmth radiated off them and then they wrapped an arm around you. You could feel their eyes on you, but yours were too heavy to meet theirs. “I’m awake.”

“Go to sleep. Rest well.” Hange’s hand stroked your back and sent another round of endorphins through your body.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Huh?”

“What are we doing tomorrow?” You mustered the last energy you could.

“Going to our last stop before returning to Mitras Castle: Orvud District Headquarters. We’ll bathe, eat, sleep in comfortable beds, and maybe if we can sneak away from Levi, we’ll explore the market. I’d think you’d like that, Y/N.” Hange’s soft lips kissed your forehead, and your heart fluttered. Being in their arms was the best destiny that you could ask for. It’s the fate you never knew you needed.

With your eyes closed, you leaned toward Hange, planting a kiss. You felt a round surface against your lips, and Hange pushed your shoulder away with their hand. They chuckled, amused that you accidentally kissed their eyelid.

Next Chapter: Chapter 27: Curiosity of the Abyss

chapter index masterlist

#hanji zoe #hange zoe #hanji x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hange x reader #hange x you #hange zoe x reader

8 notes · View notes

delusionalwritingsofagay · 3 years ago

Text

Do you regret it ?

Pairing : Jason Todd x Male reader Tags: hurt/no comfort yet, angst, unhappy ending word count : 971 Edited : 30/09/24

Y/N stood at the threshold of his apartment, staring out into the sprawling city of Gotham, the cold air whispering promises of clarity through the cracked window. He knew he shouldn’t give in to the haunting call of the rooftop—the place where shadows danced with memories too piercing to ignore. The small voice of reason in his mind begged him to forget it, to go about his night like any other, but he was acutely aware of the bittersweet truth: Jason would be waiting up there, just as he had every night since returning from the grave.

The weight of their shared history pressed heavily on Y/N’s heart. Jason Todd, , had transformed into the Red Hood, a vigilante cloaked in darkness. The cheerful laughter that had once echoed through their lives felt alien now, replaced by whispers of grief and pain. Jason was no longer the wonder boy he used to be.

Y/N tried to wrap his mind around the chaos that had become Jason’s life. The memory of Jason’s gruesome demise still clawed at Y/N's heart, a painful reminder of everything lost. And yet, a troubling thought flickered in his mind: Is Jason still my boyfriend? They had never truly discussed what came after death and resurrection—a question marked by unformed feelings and unwritten words.

As he ascended the cold, metallic steps leading to the rooftop, he felt every heartbeat echo like a drum in the silence of the night. Jason had been a specter in the fading light, avoiding him at all costs; yet night after night, he returned to this very spot. Somehow, he knew that confronting the emptiness in Jason's eyes was unavoidable.

The rooftop was deserted, save for the muted hum of the city below. Y/N inhaled the chilling air and walked toward the edge, allowing the vastness of Gotham’s skyline to stretch before him. As he settled onto the cool concrete, the familiar, bittersweet ache filled him. When the tension in the air stirred, he sensed that Jason had acknowledged his presence, tensing ever so slightly, but he remained motionless, a solitary figure under a tapestry of stars.

Taking a moment to drink in the night sky, Y/N caught the glint of silver clouds intertwining with the flickering lights of the city below. Then, with a deep breath, he glanced over at Jason, who sat a few feet away, the iconic red hood resting on the ground beside him—an unguarded piece of his former self. He diverted his gaze, not wanting to be caught in Jason's tumultuous world.

“...You’re wearing my hoodie,” Jason's voice sliced through the stillness like a lit match igniting dry timber.

Y/N flinched at the sudden break of silence, instinctively looking down at the oversized fabric enveloping him. He realized, in a rush of bittersweet nostalgia, that he had donned Jason’s old hoodie—a tangible piece of their shared past.

“I’m sorry… Do you want it back...?” he replied softly, trying to mask his surprise.

Jason shook his head, a huff of breath escaping him. “Nah, keep it. I gave it to you, remember?” The words were heavy with unsaid sentiment, tainted with shades of lost connection and longing.

Y/N nodded, recalling the night Jason had draped it over him on that particularly dark evening when shadows loomed larger than life. Fearful memories had haunted him then, each one pushing him to Jason's side, where he had found solace wrapped in warm arms. That same night, nestled close together, they had shared the words “I love you” under the flickering glow of a single candle, their laughter drowning out the world.

They settled into a silence, the city’s distant hum wrapping around them like an old lullaby. But it was Y/N who broke the quiet, his heart pounding in his chest like a caged bird. “Do you regret it?”

“What?” Jason asked, confusion lacing his tone.

“I don’t know,” Y/N replied, his voice trembling like a flame caught in the wind. “Everything…”

Years felt like seconds hung in the air as Jason wrestled with the question. As he opened his mouth, unsure whether to echo the turmoil in his heart or remain guarded, he ultimately spoke. “Just because things didn’t work out doesn’t mean you weren't the best thing that ever happened to me, because you were.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and he fought back the swell of emotion threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes glistening. “You too.”

Jason turned his head, searching Y/N’s face for a flicker of hope amid their tormented hearts. “Yeah?”

With a nod, Y/N felt warmth creeping back into the gaping void between them. For a fleeting moment, everything felt right, as if they were simply two souls perched on the edge of the world like they had done countless times before—watching stars fall and dreaming of possibilities.

But reality came crashing back as Jason looked away, the moment disintegrating like mist in the morning sun. He cleared his throat, a sign that he was putting emotional distance back between them. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”

“Right, of course…” Y/N bit off the words, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he stood to leave. “Will you ever speak to me again, or are you just going to creep off my roof every night?”

Jason kept his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the horizon, a fortress of solitude behind his hardened gaze. “Go to bed, Y/N.”

With a defeated sigh, Y/N turned away. He paused at the door, casting a lingering glance back at Jason, the boy he knew and the enigma he had become. He departed the rooftop, leaving Jason solitary beneath the vastness of the night sky—a shadow of the person he used to be, surrounded by the echoes of their fractured history.

#x male reader #dick grayson dc #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x reader #dc titans #raven dc #dc fandome #male!reader #male reader

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trouticecream · 2 years ago

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[ Ordinarily, he pays little mind to the feelings of others–if only because there are often far more intriguing things which hook his attention at a given moment–but at this juncture, the human’s unease, discontent, and maybe outright fear cut through the tenseness of the air with shocking (maybe even a little repulsive) clarity. More than likely, Ness is experiencing that same ice-cold slosh of fear that the Psion himself had initially been struck with the moment he registered his presence. Ness must know on some level. The cosmic connection-concocted by fate and conveyed by the Apple of Enlightenment itself–between hero and villain is unavoidable. That’s why the human had immediately bristled at Gregory’s presence. It’s not just a matter of being an extraterrestrial (though that must play some part), but rather the sense that he’s the very villain that the Chosen Ones had struggled to stop. And so, it’s only natural that the human respond in such a volatile way and yet, he can't stop that rush of childish impudence--that nigh inexplicable desire to be petty (within reason)--to the forefront of his mind.

Once again. He knows that Ness is well within his rights to react in such a way. To be hostile and suspicious. To make assumptions based off what had happened before. Clawed digits curl into tense fists before relaxing once a few seconds have elapsed. And yet, something (against logic and reason situated at the core of his very being) compels him to return the hostility anyways, utterly charged by the inevitable fear lodged in no small part of his mind. At least in part before actually elaborating what his intentions here are. In the end, he holds no genuine animosity towards Ness and lacks any interest in unnecessary fights (not that he'd even entertain it anyways when teleportation is always an option) and so, it's best to be at least a little cooperative. Or cooperative enough anyways.

Arms neatly fold behind his back and the Psion levitates just a foot or two off the ground to better meet the human at eye level from a distance, dark blue voids narrowed just a bit with some hint of a rather judgmental quality to it. ]

—’Perhaps. But then… such a sentiment is incongruent with that human saying about assumptions, is it not?

“Assuming makes an… – ‘ass’ out of you and me.”

No matter how well-justified an assumption, solid conclusions cannot be drawn in the absence of more recent data. Previous experiences are often only part of the overarching image.’

[ Cue a nonchalant shrug as if silently dismissing the matter entirely–unworthy of further consideration or effort now that his impulse has been satiated a little–before he continues on, faux confidence on full display as if to overcorrect for what he truly feels deep down. ]

‘Nonetheless, I am not interested in the useless and wasteful goals of Giygas.

Rather, my primary objective is to collect data on the Earth’s various features and document it simply to preserve it for its own merit. Nothing more and nothing less.

Will that pose a problem for you, human… –?’

There's something about this that makes the hairs on the back of Ness' neck stand up. He likes to think that he's usually able to keep cool in otherwise terrifying situations - things like the Lost Underworld come to mind, where he had to act like a leader - but then he thinks about how he absolutely lost it when Paula had been kidnapped back in Fourside, and his feelings now are, he had to admit, closer to the latter than the former.

Still, he's justifying it because all of the aliens leftover from when Giygas attacked where supposed to be gone, but this guy clearly, mentally anyway, had alien written all over him.

"I'm not trying to play mind games here, man." As tempted as he is to raise his bat from its place in the grass, he's trying to stay true to his word.

"My home town's been overrun by aliens not too long ago. The ones that didn't take over all left, but you're still here. You can understand why 'm a little suspicious, yeah?"

Would he be able to take the alien-thing on, though? Maybe. He'd feel a lot better if Paula, Jeff, and Poo were with him, but heck, he's sure he's a lot stronger than the entire police force, maybe even twice over, if he were the kind to brag.

He'd really rather not fight the guy, but Ness has long since learned that the Starmen and other weirdos couldn't be reasoned with.

"Will ya tell me why you're here, at least?"

#gingermuses #.gingermuses: rp 1 (ness)#I LIVE for the hostility and mutual unease here like Ness brings out a special kind of /pettiness/ in him--#--whereas normally he wouldn't even entertain such a situation much (barring certain circumstances)

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tartagilicious · 4 years ago

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little light > gojou satoru

→ synopsis | a man who can see far too much is in love with a woman who can see nothing at all. (blind!reader)

→ genre | angst + fluff

→ word count | 1.5k

→ warnings | descriptions of blood, ptsd

→ note | I binged this show in two days and the only things I retained are that curses are bad and gojou is hot. this is my first time writing for him so I hope he’s in character enough !

“look at me."

his voice is gentle, patient with the distress that paints your features. blood runs over your skin like sweat, leaving a gruesome sheen as you grasp unsteadily for him. gojou gives you his hands without a second thought. the sight of you so frightened leaves him breathless.

“look at me. please.” he repeats, urging you on as your lip quivers. your entire body shakes as you say,

“i can’t."

your sudden sob startles him, hands gripping yours tightly. the words confuse him. he means to ask you, but the moment you raise your head, any question he might have had dies in his throat. for the first time, gojou satoru is left completely speechless.

dark blood pools unforgivingly into bright irises, physical evidence of your bad run-in with the special grade curse he’d just dealt with on your behalf. but as he stares at the way the red covers the expanse of your eyes, he feels hopeless. something in him breaks as your fingers tighten around his.

you wail softly as your nails leave angry half moons in his skin. he doesn’t mind the pain.

“...i can’t see you."

almost a year after the battle that had cost you your sight, your eyes had settled into a cooler gray tone, the vessel that had originally bursted settling low — useless for all but a story.

you tell your tale as one of advice, a lesson to someone who could perhaps benefit from your mistakes. a preliminary caution to anyone that might ask why you wear two eye patches. but gojou doesn’t miss the way your shoulders square, nor the way you take a few seconds too long to catch your breath every time you inevitably share it.

as someone who had stayed close to you during your recovery, gojou believed he could tell it just as well on his own by now. though the story still never ceased to make him sick; to bring up the image of your shaking form and blood-soaked face; to remind him of how it felt to lose a part of someone, a feeling he’d tried so hard to forget.

but there were things neither of you could truly forget, impacting your lives in ways that were simply unavoidable: not only as a human, but also as a jujutsu sorcerer. while handy with your usual method of choice, there was an undeniable disadvantage you had when faced with the threat of a curse.

instead of throwing yourself into the fray as you once had preferred, you were now forced to succumb to a disability that impacted the very things that grounded your soul.

but it’s with gojou’s guidance that you’re still able to hold a weapon at all.

it’s his voice that finds you when you begin to panic, to let the frustration of blind get to you.

“you fight with that thing on willingly when I don’t have a choice?"

“that’s not fair! you know the blindfold is just a cosmetic choice, don’t you?"

you can hear the way his lips purse in the playful tone of his voice. his footsteps pad lightly on top of the dirt of the training ground as he takes a step back, giving you a chance to loosen the grip on the weapon in your hand.

you resist a groan. of course you know it isn’t, but you choose not to say anything.

“I’m waiting for the day someone comes and knocks you off your pedestal, satoru. unless you enjoy the feeling of fighting blind?"

he hums. “thrilling, isn’t it?"

you let out a laugh of disbelief. “masochist."

it’s his rough fingers that intertwine with yours that keep you grounded in moments you feel like letting everything go.

too many nights do you find yourself sitting awake in a cold sweat, the residual shapes and colours from your dream fading as a vast nothingness takes its place. the frustration is heartbreakingly fresh as you silently beg for another moment of clarity, only to receive no response.

a sob bubbles up in your chest as you try hard to suppress it. the world feels as if it’s suddenly crumbing around you before you feel a limp hand reach over to catch yours.

gojou doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s awoken and looking at you.

carefully, you let your opposite hand find his shoulder as you twist to lay into him. he takes you without qualms, holding you close with one hand on your back while the other doesn’t leave yours.

after a few minutes of quiet cries, a finger trails up and down your back in a soothing nature.

“nightmare?” he asks.

you shake your head, letting out a strained breath.

“..I dreamt that I could see again."

gojou is silent at this. his hand squeezes yours tightly.

“I don’t—“ you cut yourself off, pursing your lips as to fend off another onslaught of tears. “I-I keep… I keep forgetting what your eyes look like—"

a sob tears from your throat as you curl around him. in that moment, gojou is almost glad that you can’t see the forlorn expression he wears.

but above all, it’s his unwavering support and will to stay by your side. had he not been there in that moment, there’s a part of you that doubts you would have found the will to make it out at all.

“i think i want to wear a blindfold.” you speak quickly, as if embarrassed, but the words pique your boyfriend’s interest immediately. gojou covers his cerulean eyes for his own reasons, but the idea of extending his odd custom to you is exciting.

hearing him sit up straighter next to you, you shift away, face heating just imagining the expression on his face. it’s exactly as you think — the grin stretching his lips is so wide it transcends the boundaries of nature.

“ah,” gojou hums, the child-like laugh that escapes him as he rises infectious. gojou carefully lends you his hand. the simultaneous absence and ever-flowing presence of infinity from beneath them mind numbing.

“you’re a good student, you know;” he gushes as he normally does, but the small hint of sweetness that lines his voice is like a quirk reserved for only you. “to follow in your teacher’s footsteps."

“think what you want, but do you know how hard it is to put on two eyepatches while blind?"

you say this, but can’t resist a laugh as he pulls you forward into him. gojou lands a chaste kiss on your forehead as he sets a comfortable pace you rely on him to keep. you trust him more than anyone to do so, just as you always have.

“well then,” he lets go of your hand when you reach your destination, recognisable as his office by the warm smell of wood and spring breeze through a cracked window. “allow me to be the one to make it easier."

gojou takes your wrist and puts what you assume is a blindfold in your hand. you poke around at it clumsily for a moment, trying to find the opening in the pool of fabric. when you can’t, he doesn’t become impatient. instead, he teases you and takes your hand in his, guiding you to the right places.

from there, you’re able to discard the eyepatches you wear, baring your eyes to the daylight. your innate senses don’t seem to pick up the way gojou stares at you, gaze swimming between glancing from your smile to your eyes. he’s prideful in the notion you’re able to smile in such a way again.

as you slip the fabric over your eyes, it bunches around your ears and fits awkwardly at the neck. but your smile is dazzling nonetheless, as if you couldn’t be happier.

“this will help, I think.” you say, still busy adjusting the fabric as you think aloud. “with my sight completely restricted like this, my other senses should be able to grow even stronger."

perhaps you’d never noticed, but goujou is already well aware of the way you’d adapted in the recent months. whether in the way you immediately resort to touch to identify things, or how you’re able to hear virtually anything — it sets a small buzz of hope aflame in his chest to have been able to witness such changes.

“stronger senses, huh?” gojou’s tone is suggestive as he pulls you in by your waist, head tilting down into yours. “does that mean what I think it does?"

when you laugh and string your arms around his shoulders, he smiles along.

“pervert."

anyone only listening to the conversation might assume you’re losing patience with the man in front of you, but the grin on your face is unmistakable. what your eyes can longer show seeps through in the gentle way you pull him down for a hug, and is returned in the arms that hold you tight.

#you know what yeah fuck it I am implying that gojou keeps a drawer full of disposable blindfolds in his office what are you gonna do about i #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #gojou x y/n #gojou x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x gender neutral reader #kind of unedited

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fordanoia · 3 years ago

Text

What You Got

Fandom: Gravity Falls || CW: - || Ford brainstorming on what to do about Bill and what he can do. (one shot)

______(~700 words)______

Ford tapped his pen with one hand against the notepad that had nothing legible on it. And nothing productive. His other hand was holding up his head as he looked off across the small dining room table where Stan was, at this point, doodling on the notepad in front of him.

Ford couldn't think straight long enough to come up with any real ideas, or even remember much of the ones they'd come up with by this point either. He felt like a loosely tied together mess right now.

He lifted his head up enough to scratch his hand through his hair and take a drink from his coffee.

"I don't know what to do here." Ford said.

Stan didn't look up or stop drawing. "Yeah, that's the whole point of this. We're figuring something out."

Ford took a look at the scrambled list in front of him, couldn't even read it, didn't have to when everything on there was scratched out.

"I can't do anything here." Ford angrily gestured at the table with his pen. "I fall asleep, Bill starts the portal. I stay awake, he'll find someone to send here after me."

"You're smart, you can figure something out." Stan said, looking back at him across the table. "Besides, I'm here now too, so come on."

Ford dropped the pen and forcibly ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. "Yes, you're here. So do something." He pleaded.

"I am doing something." Stan countered. "I'm coming up with great plans," he tapped his finger on the table and then continued a bit smug like it was enough, "and if anybody shows up looking for a fight it's not just going to be against you."

"That's great for one person, but what if five showed up?" Ford asked.

"We could handle it." Stan said, lazily waving a hand at the idea.

Ford scoffed, sinking back down in his seat, muttering lowly. "'We could handle it.'"

"Well we would." Stan said.

He held eye contact, Stan expectantly waiting and holding his gaze.

"Well?" Stan asked.

And begrudgingly, Ford didn't actually think it wasn't true. "Okay, fine." He conceded, rolling his eyes. "Yes, we would be able to handle it, but these are all short term solutions."

Ford continued, counting briefly on his fingers. "Keeping an eye out, holding onto a bat - It can't last forever. Something's going to happen eventually."

The one, unavoidable certainty was that this wouldn't last.

"I know." Stan said.

"So, what can we do?" Ford asked, feeling wrong for asking it when he was supposed to have the answer for the question already. Should have come up with the solution yesterday, last week, any of the thousands of moments before it'd gotten this bad.

"What do you got?" Stan asked.

Ford looked down at his notepad, only seeing the scribbled out lines there and mind swimming to come up with any idea or solution. "I don't... know."

His attention threatened to scatter away from him entirely, but he remembered Stan, saw him at the top of his vision and looked back up again to see him there. A terrible mullet, a dirty coat, not even half the mess Ford knew he looked like right now, and he was here. And that was enough to make the room lighter, less heavy.

"I've got you." Ford said. It wasn't a solution or even an idea, but it was the only thing he could see that he had right now.

"Yeah, you've got me." Stan agreed.

"That's not an idea though." Ford said.

Stan smiled casually. "Yeah, I know, but hey I'm here, aren't I?"

Ford smiled along with him, relaxing. "Yeah, you are."

"And I've got some great ideas." Stan said.

As Stan launched into ideas and they talked, Ford found the conversation was lost to him within seconds. He didn't remember what Stan was saying or even what exactly he said himself, even the general idea of what either one of them said a few minutes ago wouldn't stick. Except for the idea of a 'holy water grenade' from Stan.

Soon though, soon Ford truly lost his train of thought and- clarity came as his reality settled into cold and sore muscles and a slight headache.

Ford jolted all at once, waking up fully and realizing that he wasn't in his house and quickly after that he couldn't be in his house because he wasn't anywhere near home anymore.

Readjusting to his reality, he slowly pushed himself up, cold and numb. He’d tucked himself against the wall on the cold floor of a car on the supply transport he’d hopped onto last night.

He flexed his fingers to get his blood flowing back into them and warm himself up again, taking stock of what he had.

#my fics #gravity falls #gravity falls fics #stanford pines #paranoid!ford #c:paranoid!ford #c:ford #c:mullet!stan #/surprise it's angst/#nah but spoiler tags incoming #its not even a 1k fic though but #portal!ford #you ever wake up from a dream where you had something or were talking with someone #and when you wake up you just realize that 'oh. thats right. thats gone now'#and you just... feel the loss #yeah

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whimstories · 3 years ago

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Summary: Vague Isekai concept. Marinette is transported into a world she read in a book and comes to fall for the female lead who was drastically misrepresented in the novel.

A/N: I didn’t expect to write some random scenes today. This isn’t a full story, sadly. I just wanted to post some things I wrote because Marigami needs more content, and this pairing is vastly not given the attention and respect it deserves.

Enjoy ~ ✨

//////////////////

“But I don’t wish to be just a man’s wife, I want…I wish to be…”

“But you are!” Marinette exclaimed.

Kagami’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You don’t need permission or approval, you’re already a politician. A scholar. A warrior. Your sword is more beautiful than anyone I’ve seen. You don’t need to waste your breath wishing.”

“You say that but—“

“Please don’t contradict me. It hurts me to see you doubting yourself so much when you’re already beyond extraordinary.”

Kagami’s cheeks flushed a rosy color and she looked shyly at the ground. “You’re full of praises today.”

“Make it more difficult to find praise then,” Marinette grinned. “I wish I had half your virtues.”

“You’re much more virtuous,” Kagami whispered, sounding almost too sincere. For a moment Marinette’s heart stopped, fluttering with warmth and searing pride. But she covered it with a sip of her tea, knowing better.

Marinette smiled kindly. “So when are we going to interrupt the men’s meeting on that dreadful land acquisition?”

“We shouldn’t.” Kagami sighed.

“All the more reason.”

“Adrien would be embarrassed and mother would be furious. I couldn’t possibly.”

“Adrien is a bit…slow at times. I think he’d be elated to see his wonderful fiancée standing for what she believes in. He’s that much of a good man, at least.”

“Yes…he is good,” Kagami glanced at Marinette as if to add something but looked away again in thought. “But mother will hear of it. There’s no returning from disappointing her.”

Marinette hesitated, knowing the fear of failing one’s family. “Your mother is as accomplished as you are, yet I find it odd she doesn’t support your dreams.”

“My mother is a traditionalist. She accomplished much, but she’s calculated and conservative. She’s never acted outside the bounds of societal law. She expects the same of me.”

“You make her sound villainous.”

“Another conservative term for her.”

Marinette bristled in her seat and when Kagami looked at her she lifted a napkin to her mouth where a small amused noise burst from her lips. “She’s not so horrible. I admire my mother in many ways.”

Marinette wished she’d move the napkin so she could view the rare sight of Kagami’s smiles but her eyes also burst with a fondness that was equally as lovely. “But you believe your situation will grow worse if you disobey her.”

“No...I—“ Kagami sat in silence for a while, then her brows furrowed. “I’ve never disobeyed before,” she finished.

Marinette looked at her sadly but righted herself with a cross of her arms and feigned a huff. “Kagami, fold your napkin.”

Kagami snapped her head upwards, alert. She slowly did as instructed. “Yes? Why, what’s the matter?”

“Stand.”

Still confused, she stood with the good graces bestowed on her education.

“Walk towards me please and grab my hand.”

Kagami walked a step before hesitating. Her face seemed to freeze in a panic. “Won’t you tell me why?”

“Can you not do it?” Marinette parried.

Kagami blinked back, clearly challenged but slowly took Marinette’s hands in a gentle hold. They were soft and warm, yet strong and worn from training. Marinette had to ignore her thrill. “Now, look me straight in the eyes and tell me,” she paused dramatically, “you do not regret eating my pastries.”

Kagami looked surprised. “They were amazing, I’ll cherish them the rest of my days. Of course, I’d never regret it.”

Oh. Marinette was teasing but the sincerity suddenly made her hands feel very warm. Marinette blinked violently to play off the warmth of her face. “A-and that you do not regret wearing that Louis Forton gown to the last gala.”

Kagami sighed and her lips fought from curling. The dress was truly a complicated monstrosity that even amnesia couldn’t sear from the mind. “That was unavoidable. I can forgive that much.”

“And that you won’t regret your arranged engagement.”

Her hands flinched in Marinette’s. “I—of course, I—never would,” she said, stilted, and blatantly looked away from Marinette’s gaze that Marinette was surprised.

She continued, “And that the feeling of satisfying your mother is more precious than the feeling of picking up a sword.”

Kagami’s face stilled. Her hands clenched Marinette tightly, but she stared forward in a new sense of wonder. A sense of clarity. Her eyes shone with a wet sheen, like a diamond forming dewdrops.

She stood a long while, opening and closing her mouth. “Am I allowed such a thing? To not say it?”

“It would not make you less of a wonderful daughter.”

“But it would make me a selfish one.”

“For a parent, a child could never be selfish. You’ve never been disobedient, so how can you know how she would react?” Marinette said. “And even so, even if she reacted poorly, she is not the one who has to live your life. Endure the choices. It is not your fault you were born a duchess’s daughter, but it is your responsibility to shape what this life has presented you. And so far you have disregarded that responsibility.”

“Then what should I do?” She asked slowly, as if sure no one could have an answer.

“What you want,” Marinette said simply with a shrug and a smile.

Kagami hummed, staring at Marinette. Marinette could imagine she perhaps admired Marinette’s nativity, and that Marinette’s words meant nothing at all. But it hurt her to see such a wonderful person, a wonderful spirit like Kagami feeling trapped when she had such potential.

Then Kagami’s face lifted miraculously into a soft smile. A rare and blossoming sight that shone like colors bouncing from her chest. Kagami grasped and lifted Marinette’s hands to her mouth, placing a brief kiss on the tips. Marinette’s face inflamed.

“Thank you,” Kagami whispered.

“W-what for?” Marinette laughed nervously, not sure what else to do. “I just told the truth. I hope I wasn’t acting too ridiculous.”

“You’re never ridiculous. I always enjoy being with you. I’m very glad we’ve met, Marinette.”

God, this woman is a weapon. I don’t think I can stand. Marinette finally pulled her hands away and contradicted herself by standing with enormous force.

“Yes, I always enjoy your company too. Gosh, it’s warm. I should go for a walk. Not you though, you should finish your tea. Not that I don’t think you’ll keep up or incapable just—I’ll return, okay?”

——-------------

“Marinette? Are you there?”

“Marinette sat upright and stared disbelieving at her door. “Kagami?” she whispered and ushered to open the door. Kagami stood, swaying slightly at the entrance.

“Marinette,” she said the name so simply and with sweetness Marinette knew she was not of the right mind.

“Come inside quickly.” They walked to Marinette’s bed and sat. “Did you drink?”

“The men wanted to have talks in the parlour. I didn’t back down and joined them.”

Marinette became alarmed. “They didn’t harm you or—?”

Kagami shook her head a little dramatically. “Many of them collapsed after I challenged them to some games. I ordered some maids to escort them then…well, I walked here.”

“Oh,” Marinette snickered. “I wasn’t aware you were an expert at drinking games.”

“Neither was I.”

Marinette shook her head. Of course, Kagami would be stupendous at something she never tried before. “Well, drunk or not I’m always happy to keep you company.”

Kagami smiled sweetly again. “I could not think of better company no matter the situation.”

Marinette’s heart squeezed. Two wondrous smiles in one night, Marinette might faint from sight. “You mustn’t say that when Adrien is around,” she joked.

“But I’m sure Adrien knows it as well. I can hardly bear to leave you for a moment.”

“What about sword training? I bet you couldn’t tell me I’m better company than your most treasured activity?”

“Even that…perhaps.”

Marinette's heart thundered against her chest. The room stilled and she felt she must have heard wrong. Nothing could matter more to Kagami, it was in the book. Kagami’s independence was a relationship of love itself, no matter how glorious she was, no one was enough. Yet…perhaps…

“May I…have your hand?” Kagami asked, staring intently at Marinette’s hand against the sheets. Marinette was busy stopping her heart from stuttering out of her chest and now Kagami said something so ridiculously ambiguous and wanted to touch her—Marinette didn’t think she would survive the night let alone the next few minutes.

“Can I not?” Kagami asked when Marinette took too long.

Startled, Marinette exclaimed, “Yes! Of course!” louder than proper and presented her hand upwards as if waiting for a palm reader’s forbidding prediction. She hoped it wasn’t obvious how her handle trembled.

Kagami took her hand gently, the tips of her fingers tickling the back. Their hands slid over one another at various angles: a hook of thumbs, that courteous raise of the fingers, an intertwining of fingers. Marinette’s nerves made the atmosphere feel heavy and electric. Was this not intimate by all standards? Or was she overthinking? Her heart raced and Kagami seemed to languidly test all the ways their hands would fit as if it was custom.

Marinette could not suppress her nervousness and leaned forward with a laugh. “Are you looking for something?”

Kagami’s lids were drooping and heavy, yet her gaze was fiercely focused on her ministrations. She hummed and pulled Marinette’s palm upwards. Her lips pressed firmly, right to the center of Marinette’s palm. She moved the hand towards her cheek with a content sigh and a sleepy smile.

“Yes, this is what I wanted.”

Marinette’s body screamed. She’s sure her heart stopped, how could she dare to hope to win against such a daring attack? Was Kagami a cozy drunk? It’s good she left those men behind, she would have hated showing herself like this. But to act so intimately—Marinette’s body was on fire.

After a few breaths and realizing Kagami had a firm grip on Marinette’s arm and looked much too content to be moved, Marinette took a moment to appreciate—at least a little—her position.

Kagami’s cheek was soft and smooth. It fit perfectly in her hand. Her cheek was a little warm, probably from the alcohol, but it was enticingly inviting. Marinette shifted forward, heat building between them, to get her arm more comfortable.

“Are you awake?” Marinette whispered.

Kagami blinked lazily into a droopy stare. Something told Marinette that Kagami might not remember this tomorrow.

“I’m going to lay you down to sleep.” She looked Kagami up and down. “We should probably get you a little comfortable too.”

Her grip squeezed Marinette’s wrist in emphasis. “I’m perfectly comfortable.”

Marinette laughed nervously. A clingy drunk, indeed. “I won’t leave you. W-we’ll…if you like, we can sleep together.”

Kagami nodded as if it was the most natural conclusion. “Yes.”

“Ri-right.”

Marinette edged Kagami gently to remove her outer garments. At times Kagami would catch her hand for another touch of her lips; Marinette applauded her ability to remain standing. Marinette dimmed the lights before carefully edging her way to one side of the bed. Kagami’s eyes never left her and tugged Marinette immediately down to the sheets.

“Ah, Kagami!” Marinette exclaimed, happy the dim lights could hide her warm face.

Marinette’s hand cradled Kagami’s cheeks once more, held close like some precious stuffed toy. “Let us sleep,” Kagami asserted.

How can you act so bossy when I’m the one taking care of you? Marinette’s mind grumbled.

“I hope you remember this tomorrow,” Marinette mumbled.

“I will,” Kagami sighed, close to sleep.

“If you do, you should reward me for taking care of you.”

“Anything you want.”

Marinette grinned, sly. “Don’t forget. I really suffered. Honestly.”

Kagami hummed, clearly sleeping a moment later. Her breath tickled Marinette’s wrist and her hair grazed softer than the silk pillows. Marinette’s mouth parted, staring at the soft light in the room illuminating her slightly red cheeks.

Her chest could not unravel and her gaze could not stray. Her stomach tightened and pooled with heat many times as she laid there.

Before she could fall asleep, she moved her thumb a few times against that pristine cheek. Kagami breathed deep once and sighed happily. Her lips, softer than a rose, lifted slightly. Marinette grumbled once more, “Suffering is putting it very lightly.”

——---------

Marinette woke up groggy and alone in the morning.

She stretched high to the canopy and wondered why her chest ached. The maid came in a moment later and said, “Kagami is waiting for you in the greenhouse.”

Oh. Her stomach flipped. “Was Kagami awake early this morning?”

“As usual. Not even silly wasted old men can unsettle our lady.”

Marinette hummed. Kagami probably didn’t want to disturb her. Judging from the time of day, Marinette slept later than usual. “Ah, right. I heard she drank them under the table.”

“It was a true sight!” The maid gushed. “Our lady wanted to speak about business ventures in the northern lands but they only agreed if she won a round of cards. They played various games in which the loser would drink a large cup of sake. It was a dirty rule. But she rarely lost, and never slurred or stumbled when she did. Even this morning they were grumbling over headaches and she didn’t seem phased at all.”

So she didn’t drink much last night. Is she a light drunk? Marinette giggled. “Our lady is too tremendous.”

“I was appalled when Adrien didn’t watch over her, but I suppose he knew our lady better than us all.”

“Adrien wasn’t at the parlour?” Marinette asked, surprised.

The maid was tugging Marinette’s dress into place as she said, “He headed to bed early after the first round. A man leaving his fiancee unattended with a room of stuffy men—I wanted to smack his behind the ears!”

Marinette supposed Adrien would have attended Kagami to her rooms instead of letting her wander to Marinette’s. Perhaps he was finally accepting her capabilities, but something seemed wrong about leaving outright.

“How would you like your hair, my lady?”

Marinette hummed. “Just a few pins today.”

She walked to the greenhouse, the wind playing with her loose strands along the way. She took a deep breath before going past the glass doors.

Kagami was leaning back in her seat, hair half hazardously in a ponytail and garbed in her training attire. Her clothes clung perfectly, showing off her strong legs and defined waist. The light adorned her hair like turquoise stars dancing on the strands. Marinette had to clutch her chest before it leaped out.

How does this woman look more handsome than any male model on a cheesy romance cover?

Kagami caught her eyes and Marinette held her breath. Kagami put down her cup of tea and cleared her throat. Marinette walked forward and gave a small greeting. “Good morning.”

Kagami’s eyes tentatively caught hers. “Yes. Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“It was alright.” Marinette sat and a maid poured her a cup. The color was milky and when Marinette lifted it, it was sweet. Peppermint black milk tea, her favorite. Marinette glanced upwards and fought a raised brow as she sipped. She sighed content. “You must have slept wonderfully.”

Kagami cleared her throat. Again. Marinette was fighting a smile. “When have I not?”

“Oh yes, how could I doubt you? Though, I was referring to your full day yesterday. You stuck with the men all day and left the wives and fiancees to their gossip without your input.”

“It wasn’t as scary as I thought,” Kagami said. “The men were as bad as the ladies with gossip and wholly unprepared for my education or opinions. Honestly, I feel I might have bullied them.” Her face didn’t change— as if discussing the weather— but her eyes sparkled and her tone tilted on amused.

“Is it bullying to be educated?” Marinette mused behind another sip.

“Only if you’re a woman. The element of surprise is an unfair advantage. Perhaps they’ll be more prepared next time.”

Marinette perked and grinned. “So you’re determined?”

“I feel more at ease. Perhaps I’m really not suited to being a wallflower for the rest of my days.”

“Certainly not. You should inherit and manage the Tsurugi estates and assets without the need for a partner. You’re easily capable of that much.”

Kagami’s body softened in the light. “As you’ve told me.”

“You should listen, I’m wiser than I look.”

Kagami looked down at her cup, losing herself in thought. Marinette looked around the flowers and butterflies in the afternoon. She downed another cup of tea slowly unwinding from her nervousness.

“Last night…” Kagami started slowly. Marinette hid behind her cup and raised her eyes in acknowledgment. “I acted childishly.”

“Oh? To what are you referring?”

“It’s hazy,” Kagami bit her lip and fiddled with the edge of her snack plate. “But I rudely burst into your rooms and acted unbecomingly. I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You were very expressive,” Marinette grinned. “It was very cute.”

Kagami huffed in her seat, fiddling with her long braid with rosy cheeks. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“What? You said it was your first time drinking. I was very honored to experience a new side to you.”

“I told you that?” Kagami grumbled lowly, head tucked. She timidly glanced upwards. “What else did I say?”

Marinette pretended to ponder, filling the space by reaching for snacks and sipping her drink. “It’s not so much what you said but what you did.”

Marinette glanced at Kagami and she stared resolutely at Marinette as if missing any micro movement would place her life in jeopardy. Marinette stuttered in her teasing. She thought Kagami would be embarrassing but was she perhaps…curious about Marinette’s reaction?

“U-um…” Marinette stuttered and stirred too much sugar into her tea. She didn’t flinch even as the overwhelming sweetness hit her lips. “You did say you enjoyed my company. Nothing else.”

“Mm, I do,” Kagami said simply. Then she sighed. “I invaded your space and acted brazenly. I suppose I’m starved of affection,” giving a self-deprecating chuckle.

It was a heartbreaking sound. “No—no! I was happy you felt close enough to come to me. In fact, I’d—well I’d…” Marinette gulped a breath, realizing she was placing a blade over her head. “I wish you’d be open with me more often. I didn’t know if you’d welcome such affection.”

“You’re alright with…? Rather you wish we were more affectionate?”

It was Marinette’s turn to clear her throat. “I’ve always held hands and hugged my close friends. I assumed Kagami only made the rare exception to humor me, so I distanced myself.”

“Well. I will admit you are my exception.”

Marinette’s face burst red. Then Kagami stood and moved her chair so it was inches from Marinette's. She looked up confused and when Kagami sat she offered her hand face-up, her expression calm.

“Is this alright?”

Marinette covered her mouth with one hand, unsure how her face betrayed her, but placed the other within Kagami’s. Kagami entwined them in a strong grip that tingled up Marinette’s arm.

Kagami’s face bloomed into a soft smile and she relaxed deep into her seat as if a weight left her shoulders. Marinette could not sip or eat the rest of the afternoon, feeling she had consumed too much sweetness for the day.

——

#marigami #ML #Kagami Tsurugi #marinette dupen chang #drabble #storytime

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sunflowersseemhappy · 4 years ago

Note

If you're up for it, Imagine the main 6 having a premonition of sorts about the apprentice dying and they do the utmost best to ensure it never happens but when the time comes they realize all their preparations to stop the death actually causes the death of the apprentice. Bonus is if they have to deal with the apprentice dying in front of them and they can’t do anything about it and the apprentice doesn’t look at them with any malic or rage. Just a sad, resignation, but their expression makes it clear that they don’t blame the cast for what happened.

This is probably a bit different from what you’re expecting anon but I hope you like it and crying. I definitely have to be in the mood for angst but I think I needed these to have an essence of hope at the end (especially in these times). Wishing you all well!

There’s mentions of blood but not any detail!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED but here is my Masterlist!

Asra

Asra’s heart in in his throat, he’s screaming at the nightmare so terrifying it feels like it will never end.

No relief comes to Asra when he wakes up.

Only dread, something telling him not to ignore it, maybe he should though. After all it was only a nightmare...

It's the first nightmare he doesn’t tell you about and that is the first of many mistakes he makes.

Asra wants to believe he can fix this, he’s become stuck in the past again, stuck living in a time that doesn’t exist.

If only he had looked forward.

Now he’s living his nightmare, and worst of all he wasn’t there. Just like the Lazaret he’s too late, but he’s not screaming.

He’s begging and crying, telling you this was his fault, telling you to stay, don’t leave him again, he can’t handle it.

As he cradles you in his lap you give him a resigned smile and trace his cheek, and you beg of him back.

“Don’t keep looking back Asra, it’ll only hurt. Move forward and have a life for me, you can tell me about it when we see each other once more.”

Asra’s glad of those final words, he didn’t get them before.

The shop stays empty, but once a year a white haired magician returns to Vesuvia and to the shop laying flowers at the door and the whole of the city knows Asra is living a life but will never forget who he’s living it for.

Nadia

It’s the first vision Nadia has that remains unclear, her intuition warning her yet keeping the knowledge just out of sight.

She knows it has something to do with you and she worries so.

Because she could hear the wailing, see the blood, feel her heart beating chaotically in her chest.

Against all reason she does nothing, not beacuse she doesn’t care but because she does not understand what lies ahead.

She falls into the trap of her own self-doubt, past ghosts coming to haunt her, telling her nothing has happened and not to worry.

And the day comes when that vision comes to pass and it is so much worse than she expected because she understands.

All of it, it was her voice wailing, your blood, her heart beating against her chest in fear and anxiety as she calls for help and wipes the blood from your lips with the sleeve of her dress.

She’s failed you again, ignoring the signs and standing by, she wonders why she ever believed she could be a good ruler, a good partner.

You grip Nadia’s hands and give her a determined look, you still believe in her, your eyes say as much.

“I know this hurts Nadia, but like everything it’s a lesson worth learning. You’re going to be the wisest ruler Vesuvia has ever had...I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be great.”

Nadia would trade all her wisdom to have you back.

The palace is a melancholy place, ruled by a wise Countess who ensures personally that everyone of her subjects is happy and they in turn share their happiness with her but she will never forget her true happiness with a magician's apprentice who gave her the greatest wisdom of all.

Julian

Julian puts all his belief into thinking that was just a nightmare, or his mind running just a little too wild during the boring hours of the night.

But those images, blurred at the sides of his hands covered in blood, hair falling in his face, gritted teeth and harsh breathing enclose him with an icy chill.

No matter how much he drinks that won’t leave him and Julian begins to believe that at some point this will be his fault. He’ll do or say something that causes those images and that pain.

Julian pretends everything is alright, but he’s distancing himself for the time being, maybe that will help.

Julian wishes he had been with you when this happened, there's a startling clarity with that nightmare.

His vision blurred by tears, his hands pressing against the bloody wound, his hair falling maddingly in his face, gritting his teeth and breathing harshly because he can’t fix this...

He’s always been so calm in the face of death but it's different because it's you and he’s not ready and he’s so sorry he pushed you away.

You give him an understanding nod.

“Julian... it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Just don’t push anyone away anymore please, keep everyone close. You never know when you’ll lose those close to you, it’s important for them to know how much you love them just as I know how much you love me.”

Julian wonders if he loved you enough.

The good doctor does as he’s told, he keeps his friends and family close to his heart and loves them endlessly. Julian never pushes anyone away again, their love lies in his heart next to the memory of a magician who never once gave up on him.

Muriel

Muriel is no stranger to nightmares, especially ones of him losing you but this one definitely feels too real.

Bodies pressed together, something damp on his cheeks, probably tears, and he’s shaking with rage, terror, pain?

Muriel wonders if there's anything he can do but maybe that’s the point, his subconscious telling him he’s worrying too much.

Or not worrying enough.

Muriel feels himself falling down that rabbit hole, trusting only himself to do things properly to make things okay to keep you from harm.

Keeping you from doing the things you say you need to do and it becomes too much one day and then it happens and...

It’s his fault, Muriel has tried so hard to keep you safe that his actions have caused this.

His body hunched over yours as if he could still protect you, and that’s blood damp on his cheek not just tears and he’s shaking in remorse as he whimpers against you.

He doesn’t want to be without this, you. Muriel can see the regret in your eyes that you’re leaving him but also a dear smile.

“You are so strong Muriel, I’m so glad I got to see that. Keep being strong, protect others and know you can protect and love yourself. Our friends need that, the world needs that.”

Muriel’s so sure the last of his strength would be buried with you.

But if anything it grows stronger, the hermit becoming a hermit no longer, being strong and loving and honest. The meadow outside the hut is filled with laughter and people who enjoy his company, never alone. Even when they all leave for the evening Muriel is never alone, carrying the strength of a magician who taught him what true strength really is.

Portia

Portia is already crying when she escapes the vision, shaken to her core recalling the hopelessness, the loss of her own thought.

Her head was pressed against something at one point, she could see the eyes but the world was grey, silent all around her, fabric bunched in her hands as tears streamed down her face.

She’s never known such terror.

For a moment the world felt devoid of joy.

She tells you as much as you hold her, and as you hush her and bring joy to Portia’s face once again Portia realizes...

There would be no joy in the world if you were not here.

Portia becomes worrisome, she thinks less of adventure and fun and more about knowing you’re safe.

She’s frantic and sleepless, placing herself in harm's way before even thinking just to keep you safe.

And when that day comes, the one that had felt unavoidable the world truly does feel joyless.

Her head is pressed up against yours looking into those eyes, they were grey in her vision she didn’t want to believe they belonged to you and the world is deadly silent in her ears as she sniffles into your clothes.

The last few weeks she’s lost so much joy and here goes the last piece, you smooth out her curls with a wide smile.

“Oh Portia, I really loved our adventures I wish we could have gone on more. I know... how about you go and have more without me? You’d be a great pirate queen. I’m sure you’ll make lots of people very happy, you always made me so happy. Always.”

And for a little while Portia forgets what joy feels like.

But one day a spark finds her and Portia’s been chasing it ever since, traveling the world and bringing joy to all and there are lots of adventures. There are many whisperings in Vesuvia of what became of Portia Devorak, only a few know the truth, she’s living every adventure before her and tells the greatest stories about the magician at her side.

Lucio

Lucio’s been though and seen a lot of terrifying things but that vision is by far the worst, he very suddenly feels dread build in his chest.

And he doesn’t know what seemed worse the feeling of a limp body in his arms, the fluttering heartbeat against his chest or the vision of himself reflected in a pool of crimson.

His defences are up, Lucio spends nights staying awake watching over you with hesitation in his muscles.

No one gets near you under his protective glare.

Lucio begins to think it was just his mind wandering, it's not going to happen he decides one day he’s sure of it.

He’s protected you and shielded you and that night he decides to celebrate with you (although you’re sure to be curious what you’re celebrating.

But celebration never comes.

Only Lucio carrying you unsteady in his arms, your body limp and heartbeat fluttering against his chest, Lucio’s own heart feels dead in his chest as he stares down at his reflection in the pool of blood.

He was so adamant he could shoulder this burden himself, but that was yet another mistake he’s made.

You should be angry, you have every right to look at him that way but instead your eyes hold admiration and hope.

“You’re so different now, I almost don’t recognize you. You’ve changed for the better Lucio, don’t let that go okay? Don’t be afraid to make your mistakes, but please learn from them, accept them. You’ll be a better person for it, a hero, my hero.”

Lucio never wanted to be anyone's hero but yours.

Each of his day’s the former count of Vesuvia travels across the land, he can be brash and roguish but tales are told about his heroics of slaying monsters and tilling fields to help the farmers. He lives each day learning from mistakes and wondering if his cute magician is proud of him and they are.

#the arcana #julian #asra #nadia #muriel #portia #lucio #apprentice #headcanon #angst

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puckinghell · 4 years ago

Text

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 5

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 5. Click here for part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

When you wake up, there’s something heavy draped across your chest, and everything around you is warm.

It takes a few minutes, for everything to get back, and until you can fully open your eyes. You didn’t bother taking off your mascara – were a little preoccupied – and you’re paying for that, now.

You don’t regret anything from last night, though.

Finally, you shift so you can look beside you. You’re laying on your back and Willy is pulled up against your side, lips resting against the naked skin of your shoulder. His arm is across your body, effectively pinning you to the mattrass, as if he subconsiously tried to stop you from leaving.

He doesn’t have to worry about that.

He looks peaceful, his blond hair spread across the pillow, his eyelashes fluttered shut against his cheekbones. The rise and fall of his chest is steady with every breath he takes.

Last night comes back in flashes; lips pressed against your collarbone, your fingers curling in his hair. Your heels kicked out in the hallway, his back bumping into the wall. Cursing, laughter. His hands all over your body, with just the right amount of pressure. The way he looked like he’d never seen anything so beautiful before. The way he’d blushed when you told him that you hadn’t, either.

The question, when it was silent and dark in the room, just the sound of catching breaths.

“Stay?”

Willy’s immediate answer, unwavering and steady. “Always.”

Your alarm clock tells you it’s past 9 am, now, but you know neither of you have anything important today, so you’re more than content to press your nose against Willy’s scalp. It smells nice; familiar. He hums in response, but you don’t think he’s awake, not really.

Then, your phone buzzes.

At first, you think about ignoring it. It’s only 9am, after all, and there’s nothing that you can think of being that important. It’s probably just Zach, asking if you got home safe.

God, you’re gonna have to tell Zach what happened. He’s gonna be so smug about it; you’ll never hear the end of it.

But then your phone buzzes again, and again, and you think about Noah’s wedding. It could be your sister again, bothering you about it, or maybe your parents. Besides, the buzzing is making Willy stir, and you really don’t want to wake him up.

He’s been looking tired, the season running him down, and you’re not taking away any sleep that he could potentially get.

You carefully unwrap Willy’s arm from around you, which earns you another not-really-awake hum, this time one that sounds a little annoyed, and manage to grab your phone from your nightstand.

The words on your screen almost seem fake, but once you read them properly, you kinda feel like the room is spinning.

3 missed calls, and a text.

From: Noah Daniels

I’m outside your apartment, can you let me in?

What in the actual fricking heavens...

With surprising clarity, your brain immediately realizes that you have two options now. You can go let him in, and talk to literally the last person on earth you wanna talk to, or you can not let him in, and risk your entire family screaming at you.

Besides, you’re supposed to be at this guy’s wedding in two days. So maybe only one option, then.

Your heart is beating way too fast, but you very slowly start the task of getting yourself out of bed without waking Will. It’s hard, to leave him there, and the thought flashes through your mind what would happen if he woke up, but he looks pretty knocked out so you decide not to worry about that.

You’ve got enough to worry about.

You throw on the first clothes you can find and try to make as little noise as you can while getting out the bedroom. Will stirs a few times, but his breathing remains even.

You really hadn’t wanted the first time you saw your ex to be like this, looking like a drowned panda wearing old sweatpants and – is that Will’s shirt, you grabbed?

But you guess you’ve learned nothing ever goes the way you want it to, with Noah.

When you open your front door, you almost expect him not to be there. Surely he was kidding, or sent that text to the wrong phone number, or it was a dare.

But no. He’s there, standing with his hands in his pockets and a hint of a smile on his face. He looks the same as he did back then, which throws you a little.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft. “I hope it’s not inconvenient, I was just in the neighborhood.”

“Uhm,” you bring out. It’s really inconvenient, but for some reason, the words can’t pass your lips.

“Can I come in? I wanted to talk about something, I guess.”

Great, now your nerves are truly flying at an all time high. Wordlessly, you step aside, and he takes the invitation for what it is and moves through your living room like he owns it, sitting on the couch without being asked. He doesn’t take off his shoes. It unnerves you, which is stupid, because Will doesn’t take off his shoes, either, and that hasn’t bothered you.

“You look…” Noah starts, pauses. Then settles on: “Different.”

“So do you,” you say, which is a lie, but you don’t really know what else to say. You could offer him coffee, but you find yourself not wanting to, so you cross your arms and stay standing in the middle of the living room.

“What did you wanna talk about, Noah?”

Noah sighs. “Straight into it. You never had a lot of time for small talk.”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to sound offensive, but it does. Maybe everything he says sounds offensive to you, now.

How did you ever love this guy?

“Well, as you wish.” Noah’s hands are folded in his lap. The engagement ring is shiny on his finger. “I’m getting married in two days, and you’ll be at the wedding. So I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any problems.”

Something in your brain short circuits. “Problems?”

Noah sighs again. It reminds you of the way your mom used to sigh when you were a little kid and you wouldn’t put on your shoes fast enough.

“Obviously things didn’t end great between us…”

Yeah, because you cheated. You don’t say it.

“And your sister told me you had some reservations about coming.”

That bitch.

“So I just wanted to make sure you weren’t, like, still in love with me.” He says it as if the thought amuses him. But he doesn’t look like he’s joking, and a storm is brewing in your mind. “Cause I know our relationship meant a little more to you than to me, and for that, I do apologize. But I don’t think it would’ve ever gone anywhere, anyway, you know? What we had was more of like, a summer fling.”

It’s like there’s wind whistling in your ear, but there’s no windows open in your apartment.

“A summer fling?” you repeat, a little dumbfoundedly. “We were together for four years.”

“A very long summer?” Noah offers, and you can tell by the smirk on his face he thinks he’s truly being funny.

“You cheated on me.” It’s the first time, you think, you’ve ever said those words to him, but you can’t keep them in now.

Noah’s face falls. “Hardly,” he says. “I just knew immediately that Betty was the one for me. I had to act on that, you understand that, right? I told you right after.”

Still counts as cheating. You don’t say that, either. Instead, you say: “You begged me to take you back.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

You want to laugh. How else could he remember that night?

He stood on your porch in the darkness and said: “Look, I know it was stupid, but I’m young, and I don’t know anything about anything. I just know I miss you. The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you, and I just want to make it up to you.”

You said: “Go fuck yourself”, slammed the door in his face and cried yourself to sleep for the next four months.

It’s not worth it, though, and it hits you how much you’ve changed. Because there was a time when you wouldn’t have had the strength to send him away, where this would’ve made you feel something. Frustration, sadness, anger. Hope, even.

It doesn’t, now. There’s not even the dull ache of being the one that was cheated on. There’s just indifference.

It feels like closure.

“Look, Noah,” you say, “it doesn’t really matter. There’s not gonna be any problems at your wedding, okay? I’m just there because my mom wants me to be. I’ll keep quiet.” You smile, and you’re sure it looks fake but Noah doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” he says. “If you say so, I believe you.” He stands up, clearly ready to go now that his worries have been soothed, then walks to the door and you watch as his hand lands on the doorknob. At the last moment, he turns around.

“I knew you understood, back then,” he says. The smile on his face is a little too sharp and pointed to be genuine. “You’re just not really the kinda girl guys end up marrying, you know?”

You’re still staring at him with your mouth open when the front door slams behind him.

Suddenly, you hear a different voice.

“Nice guy, that.”

You turn around to find Willy leaning in the doorway to your bedroom, fully clothed now. His arms are crossed and he’s frowning.

“You invite him over?”

“What?” Now you’re frowning, too. “What the fuck, Will, of course I didn’t. He just showed up.”

An unwelcome feeling is starting to creep up your spine, tingling through your skin like the most unpleasant current.

What if Noah is right?

What if this isn’t anything special to Will, what if he’s just passing the time until something better comes along? You’ve never seen him pick up many girls but looking like that, surely he does, and you think of his cocky attitude that bothered you so much before you really knew him, think of the way he was used to everyone loving him.

What if you’re just a conquest to him, to show himself that he can still get people to love him? What if you didn’t get to know the real him, but simply walked straight into his trap?

What if none of this is real and he’s going to go run off to someone else, because you’re just not that kinda girl.

“Do you think he’s right?” you blurt out, before thinking it through.

You really should’ve thought it through.

“Do you think I’m not the kinda girl guys end up marrying?”

Will’s eyes widen, and you see his hands clench where they’re wrapped around himself. Something clicks in his jaw.

“Are you fucking serious?” he says, and he sounds upset. And angry. Really, really angry. “You really think I would be here if I did?”

You don’t answer. No, you don’t really think that. You think Will is better than that. But something inside of you is gnawing at your conscious, because if someone had asked you that question last month, you would’ve absolutely thought that.

“You do,” Will says, and he sounds like he almost can’t believe it. “You think I’m that kinda guy, still. You said you got to know me, but you still think I would be here and have sex with you and tell you all those things I told you if I didn’t mean them.”

When he says it like that, it sounds stupid, and doubt is starting to rise in your chest.

“No, Will, I didn’t mean it like…”

“But you did.” Will pushes himself away from the doorway, stalks towards his shoes and shoves his feet in. Instantly, you start to panic.

He’s leaving.

“Will, come on…”

“No.” Willy looks up, and there’s nothing but pure hurt in his eyes. It cuts like a knife, because you put that there, and you never wanted to be the reason for his hurt.

“You know what the funny thing is, Y/N? I’ve never thought anything bad of you. I liked you as soon as Zach introduced us. I thought we could be friends. But you were always so… judgmental, and you always rolled your eyes at me so I figured I shouldn’t bother, and that hurt, because I liked you even when you didn’t like me. And now you’re accusing me of thinking something so awful of you, when I only ever though the best, and when all you’ve ever done is think the worst of me.”

He’s grabbing his jacket as he talks, stalks towards the door and you know there’s nothing you can do or say to stop him, not when you’ve hurt him like this.

Willy stops at the door, like Noah did. But he’s not smiling, no sharp amusement in his eyes. Only pain. Only sorrow.

“I always liked you, and you always disliked me. For no reason at all. And now, after everything, you still don’t like me, and the worst thing is, I still like you.”

The door falls quietly into the lock behind him, nothing like the way it slammed behind Noah - everything around you shatters, anyway.

He’s not coming you text Zach.

Zach is currently at a restaurant with his entire family in law, but he still answers right away. He’s truly been your rock, the past few days, even if he did also tell you how stupid you’ve been.

You already knew that, though.

He promised, didn’t he? He’ll come.

He won’t, though, and you can’t even blame him for it. If you were Willy, you wouldn’t come to the wedding either.

You’re standing in front of the church. Your family already spotted you, tried to get you to come inside with them, but you couldn’t. Not when there was still the slightest chance, when you still had the tiniest sliver of hope that he would be there.

“I’m just waiting for someone,” you had said, and your sister had given you a look of pity.

You kinda wanted to bite her head off, except you really didn’t have the energy anymore.

The ceremony is about to begin. If Will doesn’t show up, like, right now, he’s not coming.

He’s not coming.

Against everything you knew, you’d still hoped.

Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you swirl around, but it really is who you thought you heard, her hair curled and wearing the most beautiful sundress. “Ellie? What are you doing here?”

Ellie laughs. “Your sister invited me. Said you could use some friendly faces in the crowd.” She frowns. “Aren’t you supposed to be inside? I thought I was running really late.”

“You are.” You sigh, and suddenly you feel like you could cry. You haven’t really cried, yet, refused to cry over Will when what you had was so new and uncertain. It’s not like you got dumped, for crying out loud.

If you’re never together, you can’t get dumped. So why does it feel exactly like that, then?

“Hey, what’s going on? You don’t look so good.” Ellie looks genuinely worried and that nearly pushes you over the edge; you let yourself sit down on the steps before the church.

The street is empty. The ceremony is starting, and he isn’t here.

Ellie takes her seat next to you and waits patiently for you to talk. You want to, you need someone to talk to who doesn’t know Willy like Zach does, who might not judge you the way you’re sure Zach had – although he’d hidden it well, being too good a friend to be angry with you.

It’s just hard to get the words out, is all.

“Remember Will?” you ask. Ellie smiles at the memory.

“The hot guy you brought to the last wedding we were at? That spent the entire evening shooting heart eyes at you while you ignored him? Yes, I remember.”

The guy who did what now?

I’ve liked you since Zach introduced us.

Fuck.

“Yeah, well.” You sigh. “I kinda fucked that one up.”

And so you tell her everything.

You tell her about the pressure of being single while Noah got married, how much you hate your family asking you those questions with pity in their eyes. About how Will promised to be your plus one if you were his; about the pact you made, the only rule that that was all it was.

You tell her you didn’t like Will, at first, but that’s because you didn’t understand him, and maybe, selfishly, because you knew how much you would like him, if you tried to understand him, and you were too scared to get hurt.

About how that happened, anyway; he wiggled his way into your heart with witty remarks and honest eyes, shy glances and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

About how finally, you gave in to the desire to kiss him. About how it had been magical, until Noah showed up.

How, just momentarily, you’d doubted him, because Noah’s words rang harshly in your ears and you don’t think the scars he left fully healed, no matter how many stars Will had drawn around them.

About how he immediately crawled back into his shell.

“I don’t think it’s so easy for him to let people in,” you tell her. “And he let me in and I immediately broke his trust.”

Ellie shrugs. “You were scared and hurt and you lashed out. It wasn’t a good decision, but if he likes you as much as he says he does, it won’t be the end of everything. You’ve gotta talk to him.”

“I know.” You stare at the stone of the curb in front of you. The sun makes it look strangely bright; it’s a beautiful day for a wedding. “I was scared to do that, too.”

“Yeah, but, sometimes scary things are worth it.” Ellie is looking at you, clearly trying to find something there. “Honestly, the way you’re talking about him? It sounds like he might be worth it.”

“It doesn’t matter, now.” The look on Ellie’s face tells you you sound exactly as pathetic as you think you do. “He’s not here, so he clearly wants nothing to do with me. Zach said he’d come, you know, because he promised and apparently he never breaks a promise.” You laugh, a little humorlessly. “I can’t even blame him for that, after what I said to him. But I didn’t mean it, El.”

“I know,” Ellie says softly. “But he doesn’t know that, Y/N. I’m not the person you need to be telling that to.”

You sigh. Maybe you should, but you can’t, not right now, and you don’t think it would really matter anyway.

“We should go inside, probably.”

“Yeah.” Ellie helps you up and tightly wraps her arm around your waist, like a crutch for you to lean on, and starts to lead you inside. One more time, you look behind you onto the empty street.

But there’s nobody there, so you enter the church.

He’s not coming, anyway.

#william nylander #william nylander fic #nhl fic #toronto maple leafs

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xauramoon · 4 years ago

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Headcanon #41

Withered dreams, fractured nightmares; the dusk hours provided a time when shackles unhinged. For in the moonlit skies paved way for a gentle jackal to rest, and experience all that was missed. The past that which was left unspoken teased clarity during hours of silence. As one sleeps, the discolored mask comes off—a scarred Pokemon left revealed.

Dreams; positive remnants left experienced only during moments of eventual forgetfulness. Glimpses of happiness, peace, and comfort surrounded the normal colored Lucario during these twenty minute visions. A time worth remembering. To smile, laugh, and experience chromatic variance was unknown; Aura would never truly realize it was his early days.

Nightmares; an unavoidable period of protected thoughts that lay unlocked during a moment of vulnerability. For there was no escaping these dreams. Calling to the night, a kidnapped Pokemon forcibly undergone genetic mutation. A past best left not remembered. While practically unable to express such color in the waking hours, hints of tears slid down the Lucario’s cheek as he bare witness to catastrophic events—his own.

In a perpetual cycle, these thoughts only lingered momentarily. For the chains strengthened as the strange canine woke from their unusual slumbers. As the desaturated mask fit itself snug onto the jackal’s features once more, a loss of recollection for experiences shared the night prior.

#Truths of a Monochrome[HC]#to those who read and are too shy to interact #I appreciate it so much #just knowing my stuff is read

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bubblyani · 5 years ago

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More Than Enough

(Rick x Reader)

A Rick (Knight of Cups) Songfic One Shot

Song Used: “More Than Enough” - Alina Baraz

Author’s Note: The more I listened to this song the more I was thinking of this character. So really wanted to write something for him. It was interesting trying to get that same artistic feeling Terence Malik made us feel in the movie with this. Enjoy!

Your fingers slowly grazed over the phone screen as if they were in contact with the skin of a newborn. Swiping, tapping, you did it all silently. Finally giving the screen one last tap, you waited for the Bluetooth speakers to come alive. Except it did not.

A wave of concern washed over you. Perhaps the connection was still pending, you thought. But you remained patient, with your eyes glued to the small screen that lay on the table. You gasped in the form of a soft inhalation the moment you felt Rick appear behind you, his head popping over your shoulder to glance.

“What is it?” He asked, with his gentle voice. Wearing a soft smile, you slowly turned to face him.

“You’ll see…” you said, with confidence. Yet, the music did not play. The only sounds your ears could grasp onto were the soothing sounds of the ocean nearby while the warm LA breeze caressed your body.

“It’s this song…” You began, looking down, “that I really like…” you continued, watching your right draw circles in the space between your feet and his. Though you did not show it, you wondered whether there was an error on your device. But that embarrassment quickly washed away, like a crashing wave over the sand the moment the melodic bass began to fill the atmosphere. It was slow but rhythmic, played to the time of a waltz.

“Truthfully it makes more sense now than it ever did before” you added, feeling his eyes watch you with the greatest fascination. There he goes, you thought. Doing that again. Playing the observer. But truthfully, you did not want him to be just that.

You noticed it even on the very first meeting. His eyes were what you could not get over. Never did you imagine to find a pair of eyes like his, in a place so superficial like an After party of your Dance Company’s seasonal recital. In the midst of eyes that had little to none souls left, you were refreshed to see a pair that brimmed in it.

A wealthy sponsor of your Dance Company surprisingly was your mutual acquaintance, introducing Rick as a “fellow brethren in the arts” to you and others that gathered around over chilled glasses of champagne.

“And Y/N? Our star dancer? Oh.. she’s simply the…” Compliments. You heard compliments pouring all over, you felt like you were in need of a raincoat. Even after all these years, You did not have the skin to take it all. Indeed, they were all good. A figurative pat on the back, but an overdose of anything could make anyone uncomfortable. And when your eyes met Rick’s through all the chatter. He truly did see you. So much so you swore you heard his eyes say, “I know…”

Nodding, smiling you were accustomed in sailing through the shallow waters of socialite conversation that was unavoidable. That was how it always went. But the need to escape it always lingered within you. Thankfully, with him around, it did not seem insufferable. His eyes, they kept company throughout. To the point your eyes had a silent conversation with his. You both laughed, you both cringed, inconspicuously with just your eyes. And by the end of the party you knew in your bones you wanted to see him again. And when he came over to ask you for your number, you were relieved to know he wanted the same.

Only alone were the two of you finally felt liberated to let the conversations flow. Finally, you were not the star of a dance production, or someone’s poster girl. You were just yourself. Rick spoke less than you hoped he would. Or maybe you felt this way because of the secret admiration you possessed for his voice. It moved you. It affected you. It sent tingles down your spine that energized you to talk more than usual. You filled in those silent gaps. With Rick you were at the height of your freedom. Why? You did not know. It could be due to a mutual respect stemming between the two, along with an undeniable attraction. With that attraction also came patience. He had it in abundance, so did you. Yet, that did not hold you back when he politely invited you to stop by his place after your morning date.

Bringing you to where you were, leaning against the table in his living room. The melodic chill wave music brimmed in your ears, as it ushered the vocals to finally begin:

**You got a way with words** **It takes away the hurt** **And it's a blessing and a curse to feel it all**

Looking out to the distance, you took in every word. Every line was a clear reflection of your feelings for him. So coincidental, but true. You merely hoped he would listen intently and comprehend. Slowly, your eyes began to focus on him.

**You got a way with me** **You put me in my place when I'm petty** **Give me what I want when I'm ready** **Always hold it down…**

Sensing his eyes still remained warm, a rush of boldness came over you. With just a few inches between the two, your hand rose up, slithering its way over to his neck, making a turn to end in the back of his head, hoping your fingers would hold on to his hair. Those beautiful brunette locks begged to be played with. And your fingers complied with ease. Pushing your fingers in between, you lightly attempted to scratch his head. Confidence became you when he lowered his head, his eyes closed as if to indulge in the pleasure you provided him. Just the sight of him so peaceful, you suddenly lost track of the song altogether. The words seemed unclear about of the blue, fading into the background while your heart melted by the sight of Rick. You were pleased with your influence over him. With other hand joining in, ten fingers were in a trance of their own as they traveled from his head, running softly over his collarbone down to his chest through the thin, blue cotton shirt. The music may have faded into the background, but that did not stop the both of you from swaying from side to side. You heard him chuckle deeply, reacting to your feathery touch. Bowing your head in apology, you felt embarrassed, decided to rectify the situation by moving your hands away.

Except he stopped you from doing so, by taking your hands in his, only to place them back over his chest whilst finally gazing back at you with earnest. Only then the words of the came ringing back in your delicate ears once more:

**I get lost inside all the stars in your eyes** **It's a galaxy** It was true, you really could. His eyes told a thousand stories that you wanted to be part of. Whilst pondering on that, your own eyes widened slightly as face grew closer, surprising you as he lowered his head once again, brushing his lips against your extended neck.

**You control the tide like the moon in the sky** **Or the gravity**

His lips, they teased you, placing soft kisses on the crook of your neck, that deemed most sensitive. You were tickled by his facial hair, you were even aroused, especially when you sensed a throbbing in between your thighs. He was surely a magician, or at least he was for you. Tilting your head to his side, you brushed your nose against his right temple in sheer desperation, balancing yourself by the effect of his lips, finally listening to the pre-chorus with much clarity:

**Anybody else would be gone by now** **Does it really matter?** **All that really matters**

Desperation came up another level, when you lowered your hands, tempting his to follow. Guiding them over to your waist, you made sure they stayed there. But it seemed there was no need for convincing.

**Second I'm with you, all my love pour out** **Serve it on a platter, all that really matters**

For he pulled you close, standing straight so his eyes could capture yours again. He was like a magnet, you finally allowed yourself to admit. He always was, from the moment you laid eyes on him. Feeling intoxicated without a single drop of alcohol, you felt yourself give in. Your lips cried out in silent desperation, only growing silent the moment his mouth welcomed yours, in a long awaited kiss.

**All that really matters is you keep showing up** **Promise that I'll remind you** **that you are more than enough**

Your bodies kept swaying as the kiss continued, and the music progressed into a melodic vocalise. With his grip on you growing tighter, you felt body press against yours to the most satisfying degree.

“…this was definitely not a ruse to kiss you…i swear” You muttered softly against his lips, with genuine concern. Hands leaving your waist, Rick cupped your face with an expression that was akin to the ray of the morning sun.

“I don’t care” He breathed, assuring you with another kiss, that was longer and hungrier. Patience, had clearly worn thin between the two of you.

**More than enough, More than enough, More than enough**

As the last few repeated lines appeared and faded into the soft music, you paid no attention to what song played next, nor the sky accidentally falling. For being loved by him, at that very moment, was simply more than enough.

______________________________________

@erika92pu @tealaquinn

Check my MASTERLIST for More :)

#christian bale #knight of cups #rick #rick x reader #knight of cups movie #knight of cups imagines #songfic #batman begins #the dark knigth rises #tdkr #the dark knight rises #the new world #terrence malick

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notbang · 5 years ago

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burning up again

R/N. Set in some vague overlapping future universe of this, this and this, but requiring prior knowledge of none to understand.

(read on ao3)

“You know, this place sounded a lot more whimsical and fun when I was reading about it in letters.”

“I don’t think I was ever speaking specifically about the accommodations,” he says, wry, “so much as the symbolic act of coming here itself.”

“I know,” she shoots back, almost sulkily, and wriggles up the mattress to better rest her head in the crook of his arm. He stretches, and the fingers of her left hand cakewalk idly up his chest in her contemplation until he catches them and traps them in his own. “If anyone’s guilty of romanticising mediocrity, it’s me. I’m aware.”

“Well,” is all Nathaniel says, the smug twist of his mouth intended to tease, more than anything else.

Rebecca’s restless, perpetually in motion with an energy he doesn’t share. He’s been jungle-dwelling long enough that the humidity doesn’t bother him so much anymore, but there’s a difference between being able to sleep beneath a sheet in a sticky room and having to accommodate someone else’s body heat as well as your own. Still, the tightly-wound demeanour that had always felt like second nature to him has never really had a place here, and despite the queasy anticipation that has been slowly fraying his nerves all week in the lead-up to her arrival, having her sprawled out alongside him now, Nathaniel feels nothing but a sleepy sense of calm.

Even if her insisted-upon sleeping arrangements leave a little to be desired.

“This bed isn’t exactly built for two people,” he tells her when she starts to squirm, his eyebrows creeping upwards with a familiar cocktail of fondness and exasperation.

“You’re telling me. It’s not even built for one people, if the people is you.” Rebecca grunts, shifting again, trying to get comfortable and elbowing him sharply in the gut in the process. “You should really speak to someone about the quality of the facilities.”

“The facilities you were provided with are perfectly fine. You’re the one that was determined to play stowaway in mine.”

“Mm, yeah, but your room is so cosy and romantic, with the canopy, and the candles.”

He raises his eyebrows, dubious. “The mosquito net and the citronella coils?”

She waves him off, nearly clocking him in the face. “Okay, so the smell isn’t particularly enticing, but it’s fun, right? Being a little sneaky. Having a sleepover. Hmm?”

“It’d be a lot more fun in less than ninety percent humidity.” She pouts up at him, and he appeases her with a warm press of his palm to the small of her undeniably damp back. His lips graze across her forehead on his way to nosing into the cloud of her humidity-frizzed hair. “But yes—practically every defining detail aside, this is… nice.”

Rebecca sighs her agreement as she inches up his side, a greasy koala on a eucalyptus oil-slick tree. It should definitely be more off-putting, the mix of perspiration, pungent insect repellant and the remnants of lotion that only barely saved her shoulders. Instead he drinks in the sun kissed bridge of her nose, the pinking of her cheekbones and the abundance of freckles dusted across her face like constellations that can only be seen in clarity out of the city limits. It’s a hundred times better than any piece of paper, and every possible protest dies as a result on the tip of his tongue.

“I can’t believe you live like this,” she says eventually. At his frown she hastens to add, “I’m not passing judgement. Emphasis on the ‘you’, not the… ‘this’. You’ve always been so…” She trails off, gesturing vaguely at the length of him, and he huffs out a laugh.

“I know. It astounds me most days, too.”

“Was it hard? Getting used to everything?”

He considers that for a moment, knowing for a fact he’d spent a good number of days unavoidably rankled by his new circumstances, but unable to put his finger on the true moment of transition.

“I guess. But… hard in a good way. Hard in a way I was looking for, to wake me up. As embarrassingly cheesy as it sounds, even when I hated it, it felt… good, and important, to be following my heart for once, instead of something my father drilled into my head.”

She takes the hand not tangled in his and presses her open palm to his chest, fingers splayed out across his sternum, radiating warmth. “I mean, on some twisted level it makes sense. If you were a Planeteer, you’d definitely be the heart power,” she says, then to his confused look elaborates, “Apparently it means you can talk to monkeys.”

“I see. And you would be…?”

“Fire. For obvious reasons.” She tilts her head, considering. “Or maybe wind. For other, also probably obvious, equally unflattering reasons.”

He winces, and shakes his head as if to will the insinuation away. For all their overwhelming similarities, there’s still a lot of things they don’t have in common, and Rebecca’s penchant for toilet humour is one of them.

Her tone turns suddenly coy. “Speaking of saving the planet, here’s a thought on our current predicament with global warming. What if we shower—together, obviously, gotta think of the earth—and then just… don’t bother towelling dry?”

“Mm, that’d probably feel good for about thirty seconds, tops. Then: sticky. Also—and while I’m not sure that’s what you’re implying, it’s usually a pretty safe bet with you—you are not going to want to do anything sexy once you step foot in that shower. Believe me.”

“Believe you because you’ve tried?” she asks, eyes narrowed, frowning her suspicion.

“Believe me because I know what my shower stall looks like.”

She hums, apparently too skeptical to be truly appeased. “So the shower’s out. But we have prior experience. We’re intelligent. We’re innovative. We can find a position with minimal contact points and maximum air flow.”

There’s no question of what she’s implying now, even if her tone is still currently set to teasing, and his stomach tightens in acknowledgement. He’d been too cautious to take it as a given that her trip was intended as a romantic one, even if it was difficult to read between the lines of her intentions and find them to be anything else. Just because his most recent trip back to West Covina had led to them falling back into bed together didn’t mean anything concrete—their letters since have been as carefully choreographed as always, deftly walking the tightrope between tentative flirtation and outright propositioning without either of them being bold enough to quantify the true nature of their long distance relationship.

If the hug she accosted him with upon her arrival and all the excuses she’s found to touch him throughout the day haven’t adequately telegraphed her intent, though, surely her presence now in his tiny standard issue sanctuary housing cot has well and truly dashed any illusions that the purposes of her visit are purely platonic.

The woman in question pulls him from his musings with a drawn-out, nasally whine. “God, I just have to…”

The rest of her sentence is lost in the fabric of her t-shirt as she squirms to get it up and over her head, and sure, he has to actively tamp down on the impulse to jerk away when her moist skin hits his, but then certain parts of his anatomy waste no time in sounding the alarm that for the first time in longer than he can currently properly recall, Rebecca Bunch’s scantily clad body is in unmistakable, maddening proximity, and his breath leaves him in a shaky huff. Despite the fact they’ve been engaged in banter around the topic for the last ten minutes at least and in fact, most of the day, it’s a very particular jolt calling attention to the impending physical reality of it now, running through him like electromagnetic muscle memory.

“Oh,” she says quietly, as if sharing the exact same revelation, eyes dropping down and to his mouth.

They shift minutely against one another until he takes her by the waist and twists, orienting her so she can feel the the fan on her face. His fingers smooth through the resulting restless waves of her hair.

Just like that it’s back at full force again—the stubborn twist of heat that exists between them, both impeded and exacerbated by the suffocating jungle humidity, like an itch you couldn’t stop yourself from scratching, if only you had the energy to move.

It’s unnerving as it’s always been, the ways in which she tames him and makes him wild.

“Hello,” he says, going for suave but falling somewhere a lot closer to shaky.

Rebecca lets out a soft giggle and bends at the knee, toes leading the way to twist her leg between his.

“Hi,” she breathes into his mouth, the cartilage of her nose crushing against his own.

Apparently, that far-from-sophisticated call and response is all the encouragement they need before they’re crashing back into each other’s orbits, an alignment of single-minded satellites colliding for the thousandth time.

It’s not as needy as their last kiss, instead whittled down into languidity by the slow burn of whatever it is they’ve been allowing to rekindle between them over months of correspondence and an overnight temperature that lends itself to a leisurely pace. I’ve missed you, she tells him in no uncertain terms, and he feels unhurried in his efforts to lay out his supporting arguments of every way he intends to miss her back.

Her nails drag across his scalp and he groans, fingertips hinting at the band of her bra.

“Nope, I can’t,” she blurts suddenly after another enthusiastic minute of making out, pushing back at him and scrunching up her face. The disappointment doesn’t even have time to sour in his stomach before she’s rushing to make the grounds of her rejection clear. “I’m sorry. It’s just so sticky. Like, disgustingly sticky. An I-can’t-expend-the-energy-that-would-only-make-us-stickier sticky.”

He obediently withdraws, rolling off of her and back towards his side of the bed, as much as their cramped shared space currently allows and what ultimately ends up being much the same arrangement as before, albeit with his body being the one caged by hers against the mattress as she holds herself away in something reminiscent of a reluctant push-up. “Absurdly,” he agrees, unable to deny himself the skin-to-skin contact of combing her matted hair back behind her ear.

“Like, I can’t tell where my body ends and yours begins, and not in a… well, it is in a hot way, technically, but not in a sexy-hot way? More in the way that I’m just melting into you until we form some kind of amorphous, perspiring blob.”

“Charming,” he says lightly.

He takes some satisfaction that he’s not alone in the dull throb of his frustration, judging by the way she shifts to squeeze her thighs together.

“Can we maybe just, I don’t know, sleep on the floor? With a companionable inch of breathing space between us as we gaze wantonly into each others’ eyes? That concrete looks cool and I mean, heat rises, right?”

“Sure, if you want to hang with the scorpions.”

Her upper body, which had been in the process of relaxing back towards his, slingshots back up off of him at that, eyes going disproportionately wide to the rest of her face. “Dude. You get scorpions in your room?”

“Sometimes. Also: lizards.”

“That’s it—I’m taking the next flight home.”

His palm skirts her shoulder blades, coaxing her back down. “Uh-huh.”

Amused as he is by her theatrics, there’s another more obvious option, one that he would have offered hours ago if only she’d given him the chance, stubborn as she’d insisted on being in response to his attempts to organise her transport back into town. He absently wonders what their chances of getting a taxi are at this time of night.

“Nathaniel?” she ventures tentatively, her voice small amongst the encroaching outside chorus of cicadas.

“Mmm?”

“Do you want to sneak into my hotel room with me? I’m pretty sure it has air conditioning.”

His smile stretches wider as he pats her encouragingly on the back. “There you go.”

She carefully peels herself off of him, and he lets her drag him, good-natured, from the bed.

#crazy ex girlfriend #rebecca x nathaniel #my fic #i feel like the pacing is a little off towards the end but y'know what? just happy to finish something #prayer circle that i can get back into barcelona fic now

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strangershield · 5 years ago

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The In-between Moments

Pairing: Lincoln Campbell x Reader

Request: hi can i request some lincoln campbell fluff at the playground?

Warnings: none

A/N: just a lil Lincoln fluff for your evening :)

He felt as if he were walking through water. The wisps of conversations he heard were like distant echoes, his footsteps dragging through an invisible force. Even his vision seemed impaired, his surroundings tilting with each forced step. Only one thought occupied his mind: sleep.

His feet began to drag behind him as he came closer to his destination. He couldn’t remember ever feeling such exhaustion, but he was too void of emotion to feel disheartened by the fact. In alternative circumstances, the lingering effects of the mission may have bewildered him. Looking at the facts, it was a normal mission. Simple, even. Yet he had stayed up for hours with Daisy on watch for the suspect, and had failed to sleep on the metal container that was the quinjet. The unavoidable fight that had occurred also threw him. Their suspect had been more equipped than they had planned. By equipped, he meant weaponized technology. Whether by accident or thorough planning, one piece was particularly surprising. A flash of white blue and a sharp sting had rendered his powers useless. The spark that had occupied his being for years had suddenly disappeared, and he had never felt so empty or drained. He hadn’t been much help after that, lying semi unconscious on the damp concrete floor with a thudding head. His powers had since returned, yet he still felt drained. And paired with exhaustion, well. He was a mess.

He unexpectedly let out a weak gasp when he saw his beam of hope: the door to his room. He had never been so relieved to see the metal mundane door, not unlike all the others that were scattered around the playground. With a shaking hand, he gripped onto the cool handle. It took the last of his strength to push the stiff door open, wheezing under his weight. He only opened it a fraction before slipping through the crack, letting the door swing shut behind him. Finally, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh, ready to collapse on the spot.

“Lincoln?”

His weary heart leaped at the crystal clear, if not a tad murky, sound. Half-lidded eyes swam over the room, hastily chasing clarity. Then they landed on you. Lincoln was too tired to react, yet he gave you a small smile. You wouldn’t have noticed how the corners of his mouth lifted if you had not known him for a long time. Your smile, on the other hand, was blinding. He still saw the dark circles like bruises under your eyes and your ghostly complexion, but your smile made a warmth spread from his heart and across his chest. His entire body was tingling, and not because of the electricity that coursed through his veins.

“Lincoln? You haven’t said anything?”

Your smile began to shrink. You hesitantly stepped towards the sleeping zombie, eyebrows crinkling together. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. His eyes seemed to be the only thing that was alive, moving absentmindedly on their own accord. Slowly, you placed your warm palms on his cheeks, cradling his face as if he were a child. It was a tender gesture, full of delicacy and care. Involuntarily, Lincoln’s head lolled to one side and basked in your embrace, loving your warmth and touch. Leisurely, you snaked your hands around the base of his neck. The blonde hair at the nape was scruffy and unruly, not clean cut and course like usual. It tickled at your fingers as you carefully forced his head up, encouraging him to look at you.

“You need to rest but I need you to help me, okay?”

His eyes never fully opened, and he responded with a sound more like a moan than actual articulate words. You giggled, unable to tear your eyes away from his incoherent state. The bedside lamp was still on, allowing you to guide Lincoln to the bed without tripping on shoes or the occasional pillow. Your hands gently pulled at his, laughing as his feet dragged along the polished floor. The sound of his feet sliding and your small laugh bounced off the walls, filling the space. Slowly you both crossed the room and he eased himself onto the bed. Here the light of the bedside lamp allowed you to truly see his face. It was pale, almost reminiscent of a full moon on an eerie midnight sky. Dark purple crescents has formed under his eyes like bruises, swollen and dry under your smooth thumb as you caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch, warm and familiar, unaffected by your skin against various shallow cuts. You smiled, a warmth filling your chest. You remained like this for a matter of time, seconds or minutes passing by. Eventually you mumbled a string of incoherent apologies before you pulled away, Lincoln groaning in protest. After placing a butterfly kiss on his forehead, you knelt down and dragged his shoes from his feet. You carefully placed them to the side before standing again. Lincoln watched you with glazed eyes, lips twitching when yours finally met with his.

“Come on sleepy head.”

He chucked but made no protest, crawling backwards until his head aligned with a pillow. Lincoln fell asleep almost instantly, the cotton soft and welcome after so many sleepless nights on the road. You admired him for a moment, drinking in his relaxed and vulnerable state. He was always so aware, so alert, and so concerned. It eased your mind and heart to see him rest, his loud thoughts finally at peace. Carefully you crawled onto the side of the bed unoccupied, dragging the soft plush blanket over you both. Instantly Lincoln rolled over to face you, eyes twitching behind closed eyelids.

“Do you want me to hold you?” You whispered, not wanting to interrupt his sleeping state.

Lincoln said nothing, only reached for you hand with his calloused one. You squeezed it before shifting closer to him, extending an arm around his broad frame. His face tucked into the crook of your neck, his soft breath tickling your skin. Neither of you remembered to turn off the light as you drifted off to sleep, listening to the sound of each other’s heartbeat. He was home.

#agents of shield #marvel's agents of SHIELD #lincoln campbell #fanfic #fanfiction #lincoln campbell x reader #marvel #mcu #imagine #aos fanfiction #aos #lincoln x reader #fluff #writing #My writing

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joiedecombat · 5 years ago

Note

Maia/pyrrhic? :D

SO THIS ONE KIND OF EXPLODED, THANKS

It is suitably angsty.

pyrrhic - won at too great a cost

“Commander?”

Blinking her way out of the downward spiral of her thoughts felt like stepping out of a dark tunnel. Odessen’s daylight fell softly over the wooded mountainside and the familiar outlines of the Alliance base, with none of the uneasy quality of the artificial light of Iokath, but just now to Maia even this much seemed too bright.

Pushing back the impulse to rub her eyes, she turned to find Lana standing expectantly at her elbow. Behind her, the landing had gone quiet; a handful of people moved outside the base, techs going about their work, a pair of troopers speaking to one another in voices muted by distance, but the noise and bustle of personnel offloading supplies and equipment from the Gravestone had at some point ceased.

With sudden chagrin, Maia realized just how long she’d been standing there lost in thought.

If Lana was at all perturbed by her inattention, she had the grace not to let on. Lana, Maia thought ruefully, could give more than a few Jedi lessons on patience - present company included.

The Sith-gold eyes regarding her held only polite concern. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Maia offered the other woman an apologetic look. “Sorry. I was just a little preoccupied.”

“I’d imagine so. The events on Iokath have given all of us a lot to process.”

Maia smiled wanly at the understatement.

“I’ve made inquiries,” Lana went on, “and so far it seems like nothing out of the ordinary occurred while we were away. I took the liberty of beginning an in-depth sweep of the base for surveillance devices - we were nearly due for a routine check in any case, but given our information leak, a more in-depth search is clearly needed.”

She paused for a moment, seeming to wait for Maia to reply, but when no reply came she added, “All of your command staff will also be thoroughly investigated, as we discussed.”

“…Right.” The word left Maia in a sigh. “So much for giving trust to receive trust, I guess.”

Lana’s voice softened. “It’s unfortunate,” she said. “But we can’t afford to sit idle.”

“No, you’re right. I hate to think of anyone in the Alliance turning traitor, but…”

(“BLINDED BY DUTY. DISTRACTED BY TRUST. YOU DID NOT SEE THE BLADE TO YOUR NECK. THE RAGE IN YOUR SHADOW.”)

The metallic voice reverberated unbidden in her memory. Maia flexed her fingers, opening and closing her hand at her side as she remembered the painful jolt of energy coursing through muscle and nerve, the moments before consciousness had fled.

The evidence of Iokath spoke for itself.

(“YOU ARE BETRAYED.”)

Meeting Lana’s eyes squarely, she said, “I need to know how this happened.”

“We’ll find the one responsible,” Lana promised. “The moment I know anything, you’ll know.”

“Thanks, Lana.” Subsiding into quiet for a moment, Maia looked away across the canyon, watching the haze of mist curl amidst the distant trees. “Has there been any news out of the Republic?”

She felt rather than saw Lana start beside her at the abrupt change of topic, could picture without having to see the faint surprise flash over her face before shifting into a look of understanding. “Not yet. I expect the chain of command in disarray at the moment.”

That happens when you kill the Supreme Commander of the entire armed forces. She exhaled, a fruitless effort to expel the bleak thought from her mind.

“Theron would have more direct sources of information on the current state of affairs,” Lana said, ”but…”

Maia shook her head, forestalling the rest of what Lana was going to say. “No, it’s all right. The boot’s bound to drop soon enough anyway.”

And for all that Theron was doing his best to bury himself in work, asking him to investigate the response to his father’s death seemed like nothing but adding insult to injury. She’d done enough damage as it was. There was no sense in piling needless cruelty on top of it.

“We have our own house to get in order before that happens. Commander–”

She closed her aching eyes against the Odessen sunlight, brought up both hands to press her fingertips against her eyelids.

“Maia.” At the gentle press of a touch settling on her shoulder, she let her hands drop from her face and looked up to find Lana regarding her with concern. “If you need to talk…”

“What’s your evaluation of how things went on Iokath?”

This time she saw Lana’s eyes widen, her expression faltering into uncertainty.

“Your honest evaluation,” Maia pressed. “Please, Lana.”

Lana let out a slow breath, seeming to gather her thoughts. “We were at a disadvantage before we landed,” she began at last. “If we - if I had been more vigilant, we might have recognized the trap sooner, perhaps even avoided it altogether.”

“…you know I’m not blaming you.” It came out in a murmur, almost carried away by the breeze.

“I know.” No hesitation. The burnished gold of Lana’s eyes held her gaze, direct and unwavering. “Regardless, once the Empire and the Republic had both established a military presence, escalation was unavoidable. You succeeded in neutralizing the Tyth superweapon before either side could claim it, almost certainly preventing incalculable loss of life. In that sense, I believe we can consider Iokath a win. Not an unqualified victory,” she allowed, “but a win nonetheless.”

Maia stood very still, digesting what Lana had said. There was no denying any of the facts as they’d been stated, and yet…

She looked away over the canyon again, trying to ignore the searing echo of lightsaber against lightsaber that buzzed in her ears. “I think the cost might have been too high.”

“Jace Malcom’s death was his own doing. Not yours.”

The air hitched out of her, almost a laugh. “It’s not that simple.”

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for his choices.”

“Choices he made because of the decision I made, when I chose the Empire over the Republic.” Maia shook her head in a short, vehement jerk. “I might not have pulled the trigger myself, but how can I possibly pretend I’m not responsible for his death? To say nothing of the lives I did take - Republic soldiers, Jedi–!”

“You were in an impossible position,” Lana interrupted her, quiet but firm. “Whatever you chose meant breaking faith with someone. If the ultimate fault lies anywhere, it’s with the one who created the situation in the first place by luring all of us into confrontation.”

Maia could find no response to that, caught between the sense that Lana’s reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong, and the conviction that she was, at the same time, very much not right.

“It may not be any consolation, but…” That ‘but’ hung in the air, gently prompting, until Maia lifted her head to meet Lana’s eyes again. “I, for one, appreciate that you don’t allow old grudges to guide your decisions. I always have.”

She swallowed, managed a halfhearted smile. “I try, anyway.”

“You do more than most.”

There should’ve been some comfort in it, however cold. The more Maia tried to reassure herself, though, the more the cynical voice in the back of her thoughts began to sound like Theron’s: So, how’s the view from the high ground?

Lana must have read something of it on her face, because she grasped Maia’s upper arms as though to hold her steady. “I know all of this has been difficult,” she said. “I wish I could tell you that you made the right call, but I’m afraid only time can truly judge any of our actions. The full scope of the consequences may never be clear in our lifetimes.”

“…Remind me in the future not to ask for your honest evaluation unless I’m sure I’m ready to hear it.”

“However,” Lana continued sternly. “What I do know for certain is this: your decision on Iokath wasn’t reached lightly. Like every other decision you’ve made as commander of the Alliance, you chose thinking of what would do the most good. It’s why I’ve followed you all this time. And it’s why there’s no one I’d have trusted more to make that call.”

She meant it only as reassurance, Maia knew, but even so the pressure of Lana’s faith in her came down on her shoulders like a physical weight. It took all her effort not to shudder.

“Thanks, Lana,” she managed to say.

The grip on her upper arms squeezed gently before Lana released her and took a step back. “For now,” she said, “you should try to get some rest.”

Before the next crisis hits. She didn’t say it; she didn’t have to. “Probably,” Maia agreed, and drew in a slow breath. “If there are any new developments in the next few hours…”

“I’ll let you know at once.”

Maia nodded. There didn’t seem to be much else to say. With Lana’s somber gaze upon her, she cast one more look off across the canyon, searching the distant wilderness for answers she knew it couldn’t possibly hold.

Then she turned and made her way inside.

She’d meant to make for her quarters, but as the lift descended slowly farther into the base, the idea of closing herself in alone with her thoughts filled Maia with growing dread. Halfway across the War Room she changed her course, turning for the corridor that would lead her to the Force-users’ enclave instead. Maybe in that sanctuary, she’d be able to find some clarity in meditation - and if she couldn’t, at least she could find distraction.

With this thought occupying her mind, she rounded the corner and nearly plowed headlong into someone coming the other way.

He bit off a curse, fumbling the datapad he’d been reading. Entirely on reflex, Maia caught it just as it slipped from his hands entirely.

“I’m so sorry–”

Halfway through blurting out the apology, she finally looked up. The rest of the words died unspoken in her throat, conscious thought abandoning her completely as she found herself eye to eye with the one person she wanted most and least to see.

Theron made a quiet noise, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “…hey.”

He looked awful. It was the first thought that surfaced in her mind as she stood there struggling to recover some kind of equilibrium - even in the diffuse light of the underground hallway, she could see far too clearly the fatigue that lined his face. His fascinating eyes, normally so keen, had gone dim and full of shadows, and he couldn’t seem to meet her gaze.

(“Your dreams are almost as bad as mine.”)

Belatedly, Maia realized she was still holding his datapad. “Ah,” she said lamely, offering it back to him. “This–”

“–Yeah.” Just as awkwardly, he gripped the datapad between both hands. “Thanks.”

Then silence. The air between them felt thick enough to suffocate on.

How had things ended up like this?, she wondered helplessly. She’d never found talking to Theron difficult before. If anything, in those early days on Rishi and Yavin 4 it had been almost too easy, so much that she’d found it a little unsettling at times how natural it felt to work with him, to just talk to him about anything or about nothing at all.

Yet now the silence stretched like a gulf between them. Iokath, the Republic, the Empire, Jace Malcom’s death… all of it combined into a gaping wound Maia had no idea how to mend. She had to make it right somehow, but try as she might the words wouldn’t come.

Anything she could think to say just seemed hollow. A bandage for her own feelings, not his.

Even so, she had to do something before the distance grew too wide to bridge. “Theron,” she began, only for the shrilling of a holocom to split the air and send both of them grabbing reflexively for their personal comm units.

“Sorry.” Theron mumbled it, his eyes turned downward to the blinking holocom in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for this contact.”

Maia let out a breath, accepted that the moment was lost. “Of course,” she said. “Don’t let me keep you.”

He nodded and turned away. For the space between one breath and the next, he seemed to hesitate - but then the comm shrilled again and Theron lengthened his stride, hurrying off down the hall until he was lost to sight.

I have to fix this, Maia thought as she stared after him, alone in the empty corridor.

The problem was, she wasn’t at all sure that she could.

#swtor #the old republic #lana beniko #theron shan #theron shan x jedi knight #oc: maia sunder #fanfic #we don't talk about iokath

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sebastyansmith-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Her Name Was Arthur

Or:

Getting to grips with my first ever panic attack at 30

Note: The following is written chronologically. The relevance of these events only became clear after a lot of soul searching and personal psychological analysis after the fact.

Initially none of it was clear, but reaching back and finding the root cause of where I believe my panic attack came from helped massively with fighting through it and moving on.

I’ve had a few people ask for more information on this, especially those who have struggled with anxiety and panic attacks nearly their entire life. I think seeing someone process it all for the first time offers a unique angle. That’s what this post is about.

At age 5/6 our family cat gave birth to a litter of kittens. I was allowed to chose one and name it, and from that point it would my cat. Looking back this was the first meaningful instance of real responsibility, and even at a young age I understood its importance.

I chose a kitten and named her Arthur. I can’t remember if I knew her sex, or cared, but I certainly loved me some King Arthur.

How not to hold a sword

For the first time in my young life I had a charge, a living creature that would rely on me. Obviously looking back I probably wouldn’t have had to do much, but all the same I took it very seriously.

A few weeks later she died.

It was an illness no-one knew she had, and according to the vet – unavoidable.

According to my mother I was inconsolable. It took a hundred conversations to settle me, and I’m fortunate that my mother excels at emotional conversations.

I remember choosing the name Arthur. I remember the kitten dying. I don’t remember what she looked like, or crying at all. Apparently my mind decided to repress all that.

From that point on I didn’t properly connect with any of the pet cats we owned, though to such a degree that I didn’t notice until getting Ink and Bobby, years later.

Ink

Bobby

I loved animals. I practically lived off nature programs. But I had a deep, subconscious fear of being responsible for them.

This might sound all a bit dramatic but I was – and am – what some would call a delicate flower. Losing Arthur hit me hard.

It’s funny, I started talking about the above on a regular basis. Saying how relieved I was that I could open myself up again to pets, happy that I was able to let myself feel things properly, even at the risk of eventually losing them.

In retrospect this was my mind trying to draw my attention to another issue that would only become clear to me later:

It wasn’t just pets that I had began detaching from.

As a child I had a smattering of friends. I loved them, and trusted them, but when we moved away I was able to disconnect from them without much drama. They had been good people, and probably still are (this is long before social media so who bloody knows!). Yet I moved on without much of a backwards glance. When they didn’t show much interest I would leave.

Anyway, I carried on, I grew up, I was able to develop some brilliant relationships with people. Things were going really well. I grew into a happy adult and am lucky to count some brilliant people as friends.

As an aside: I think this was due to my up-bringing. My parents (and other parental figures) were superb. They installed so much strength and self-respect in me. That’s not to say I haven’t stumbled over the years and been an idiot – I have. Even so, I had an exemplary upbringing and I will always be thankful for that.

I still retained the ability to move on from people if things didn’t work out, or if they let me down. Looking back it could be something as simple as them not keeping to an arranged meeting time or place and I’d totally cut ties with them. Not socially, but I’d take away any level of trust I had in them.

This came instinctively and followed me into my mid twenties until I made a breakthrough.

I found myself trusting people again, really letting them in. Here’s the issue –

As children we learn how to let people in and how to block people out. It’s a system of trial and error which most take for granted as ‘learning how society works’. I don’t think I did that. I think losing Arthur had such a profound effect on me that I took the shortcut of distancing myself from others as a means of avoiding losing them.

On some level my ability to process trust issues stopped when Arthur died (bear with me on this).

So when I started trusting people, I did so as a child might, because that part of my processing hadn’t had chance to develop.

Someone who I deemed ‘special’ (super cringey, I know – I assure you this wasn’t a conscious distinction, but rather a subconscious one I’ve only recently identified) would be elevated to such a degree that they could do no wrong. They were perfect, they were above reproach. They could – wait for it – be trusted and relied upon! They wouldn’t ever let me down, why would they?

wow

Here’s where the healthy/unhealthy cycle begins. Through sheer dumb luck, and hopefully my own judgement, these few people never let me down. They were, and are, brilliant. My child-like projections of them were never shattered.

Until they were.

What happens when the psychological foundations of your mind that you’ve been building subconsciously your entire life begin to crumble?

I can only describe it as my brain short-circuiting. I have never had any mental health issues. I have always had a positive outlook and tend to take difficult things in my stride. I am not one to obsess, or to spiral. I was thus utterly unprepared for what was to come. All at once my mind seemed to collapse in on itself. I didn’t react like an adult, I reacted like a 6 year old whose kitten just died.

I couldn’t understand it. I kept saying ‘I don’t understand, I don’t understand,’ like an endless mantra. I was unprepared.

You see, on a level I wasn’t aware of, child me blamed himself for Arthur’s death. It wasn’t my fault, obviously, but we’re beyond normal logic at this point (keep up Neurotypicals!). Arthur had been my responsibility and she died. I internalised that and blamed myself for it.

Therefore, if I was to blame for the kitten, then adult Me was to blame for any upset caused by an individual elevated to my special little compartmentalised group of friendships. What should have been something I reacted to and processed relatively normally became a mental cliff which I promptly fell off. The two events became linked.

I tried to shrug it off as I would a regular upset and ended up crying uncontrollably in work. Fortunately my colleagues were superb and called me a taxi home. I did all the things I usually did to take my mind off it and that only made me spiral more. My thoughts were no longer my own, I felt hurt, confused, and more vulnerable than I have ever felt before. My sleeping pattern almost vanished. I would have moments of clarity, but they were quickly fog over again. I’d have good days, but always bad days would follow.

Keep in mind that you’ve had this story in order. At the point of the panic attack I didn’t understand where this reservoir of emotion had come from. All I kept doing was blaming myself and silently arguing myself until I could feel my thoughts falling apart.

Artist: Bryony Mulvill

I’ve always known panic attacks were real, often comparing them to a type of fit, but experiencing one firsthand opened my eyes. It is terrifying.

For all my strength as a person, for all my good mental health, one incident and my world nearly fell apart. Fortunately I wasn’t alone. My partner and my friends were there for me and they pulled me through it. No-one is an island.

Do you know what surprised me further? The anger. As part of my mental block with letting people in I also restrained a lot of emotion. For the first time in my adult life I felt angry. It was like a damn bursting. Every single emotion all wanted to be at the front but the anger? That bloody scared me.

It also pointed out something fascinating: as an adult I had never been angry before. Not really, deep-in-your-gut, truly angry. Y’know what? Being angry makes me want to cry.

Delicate flower, n’all that.

Fortunately a lifetime of good mental health kicked in with a vengeance.

I began exercising to give myself the impression of control over my life. I began taking B12 supplements to help with the fatigue. I also began talking about what I was going through, not just to people on social media and to friends/family, but to myself.

I started asking: Why?

I’d gone through hard things in the past. I’d felt pain and loss and sadness, so why now? That line of questioning uncovered everything you’ve been reading.

I love psychoanalysis. I love the idea of the human mind as a machine with cause and effect, with a little bit of chaos in there for good measure. Until recently I’d had little cause to direct this interest inwardly. It took two months to trace things back to the Arthur conclusion. Written down it might look silly, and to some degree it is:

Child doesn’t deal with losing kitten = adult doesn’t know how to process being let down.

It’s dumb, but it’s also an answer. Rather than endlessly repeating: ‘I don’t understand’ I now DO understand. More importantly, I can tell my 6 year old self that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known what was going to happen. I can resolve the relatively innocent incident of childhood trauma.

Not me and Arthur, but probably fairly accurate. Fuck I wish I remembered more.

You see, giving myself the answer provides me with a key. I’m no longer looking outwards for a solution, I can look inwards. And until recently my own head was the safest place for me to be. Like fuck I’m giving up that ground to anxiety. That territory is mine, baby.

I can also begin to work on how I view people, how I project onto them, and why I project onto them.

This has been a chaotic post, and to get the first hand journey experience you might have to read it backwards, from panic attack to naming a female kitten Arthur.

So there you have it. My first panic attack. Such innocent, naive little origins for something that could have so easily ruined me as an adult. Ain’t the human brain great/terrible.

Weirdly, I feel stronger and more alive than I ever have.

2020 is going to be amazing, I promise.

– Seb

Her Name Was Arthur Her Name Was Arthur Or: Getting to grips with my first ever panic attack at 30…

#2019 #2020 #king arthur #kitten #mental health #psychology

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