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obae-me · 4 years

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Tail Wagging Wing Flapping Fun

This idea is thanks to @astaroth1357 ! It’s a short guide on how to influence their demon forms to do something...embarrassingly cute. I write this fluff with no regrets. Enjoy.

Sure, it might be a bit disconcerting at first getting used to the sight of humanoid creatures having unusual things like horns and wings and tails (oh my), but it comes with a benefit. While their words and demeanor might suggest otherwise, their demon forms might involuntarily reveal some of their hidden feelings--or not so hidden feelings. Your new mission, should you choose to accept it, is to figure out what sort of scenario sets off these uncontrollable actions. Let’s get some tails wagging and wings flapping, shall we?

Note: Difficulty ranges from 7 being the most difficult and 1 being the easiest.

Extra Note: Seems the brothers happened to come across this guide, hopefully they didn’t mess with it...

Lucifer

Difficulty: (7/7)

Hands down, this man is the hardest one to get a reaction out of seeing as he is always aware of how he is perceived, probably due to that prideful nature of his. Not to mention, he’s only ever in his demon form on rare occasions such as parties or political events. Or, most often, if he needs to use it for intimidation, and you’d rather not get a good look at his wings when he’s ready to obliterate someone or yourself for that matter. So, it goes without saying that this might take some planning or some timely good luck. Perhaps begging if you’re not above it.

When to do it: Your best chance of success is to catch him when he’s either distracted, so sleep deprived he can’t even see straight, or just flat out drunk. If you choose the first option, chances are, once he’s back in his own head he’ll recall the event and make a mental note to never do it again. With the second, he’ll be at the point where he can no longer care as long as he can get his work done, but then there’s the more likely scenario where he’ll decide to kick you out entirely so he can focus. Lastly, if he’s drunk, not only will this be super effective, but he’ll cuddle you all night long. He might not even remember every embarrassing thing he did the following morning--which never happens, just for everyone’s information. Even in an intoxicated state, he’s in complete control with no embarrassing moments to speak of--Anyway, this is your best choice, but even then he only gets really drunk when he’s with Diavolo, not to mention refraining from coming home until the late...very late hours of the night when he knows no one will be awake to watch him stumble to his room. So, you’ll have to be diligent. Maybe take a nap.

How to do it: You might think it would be praise, him being Pride and all, but Lucifer knows after so many years that words can often be hollow. Compliments and sugar-coated phrases are mostly used as a means of manipulation or getting something in return. Don’t get him wrong, he does like them, might even give you a slight smile and a pleased hum if you tell him how stunning he is, but he will know you probably expect something in exchange. So, for him, the best way to get his wings aflutter is to do something for him. Actions speak much louder than words and are much more precious to him, especially if you do so unprovoked. Make him some tea! Bring him food in bed! Dust his record collection! Sweep the floor in his study! The list can go on, it’s all up to you to decide what to do, but make sure he knows it's for him. He likes to be pampered--I mean, served.

What happens: It will take him a moment to register. He’s not used to someone doing something for him so freely before. As a punishment, sure, but of your own volition? You did look expecting, no matter how hard you tried to hide it, but the only thing you were anticipating was his happiness and reaction, nothing else. The wings against his back have no choice but to twitch and shift, and he notices you eyeing them each time they move. As they fluttered, you beamed, and all he could do was roll his shoulders to try and keep the infernal things tucked against his back. The more you smiled, the more they were restless, feathers falling from their place as they twitched with emotion, threatening to wrap around you, to shield you, to envelop you, all like he was a hen protecting a baby chick. Depending on how weakened he is, or how much he cares for you, he might do more than just some shifting wings. He does his best to control himself, he really does, but the joy and warmth flooding his body from all his affection for you can make him do the unthinkable. His entire body will shutter, shaking and rattling him like a wet dog. His wings will jut out from his back, quivering in the air. When all is said and done, the black feathers coating his wings are extremely puffed up, a stunned and embarrassed expression hidden behind his new unruly and disheveled countenance.

Mammon

Difficulty: (1/7)

If Lucifer is the hardest, Mammon rolls in as the easiest to get a reaction from. He’s very expressive in everything he does, and his demon form doesn’t change that. If it’s not gambling, he has no desire to keep himself under control, and he’s very much an ‘actions now, thinking later’ type of demon. In fact, when you’re around it nearly ends up worsening, he ends up being so flustered and distracted he’s usually unaware of the things he does or says, which gets him in a lot of trouble. However, because of this, it’s so easy to get him to do all the cute things you want.

When to do it: Honestly, it does not matter. The only things required are himself and you in the same place, and the two of you are already basically attached at the hip. Truth be told, you don’t even need to be near him to get him sheepish, but that’s a secret he tries to keep to himself. You two could be alone in your bedroom, out for a walk in the garden, in Diavolo’s castle, even in the back parking lot of a cheap run-down restaurant. It is not important to him. As long as he has you, anywhere is a party. Public? Private? No matter. Either way his brothers will find out and tease him about it. Getting him in demon form isn’t an issue either. He’ll transform at the drop of a hat if you asked him too.

How to do it: Much like Lucifer, the most obvious answer is incorrect. You can buy Mammon all the stuff in the world, but his Greed will still want more. Besides, that’s all anyone expects him to enjoy anyway. Everyone thinks just giving him money or gifts will make everything better, but he’s more complex than that! Well, it kinda does make him feel happier, but--oi, that’s not the point, we’re supposed to be gettin’ deep here!--What will really make him melt for you is compliments. This demon loves to be praised, because it doesn’t happen often. Why? Cus he’ll get a big head about it, but that’s Lucifer’s problem, not yours. Tell him how proud you are of him. Let him know how handsome he looks. Assure him you know he’s smart, and how much you look up to him. Tell him how grateful you are that he’s your ‘first’. It’ll get to him instantly and fuel his self esteem for weeks.

What happens: The skin stretched over his wings will contract, causing his wings to fold into themselves only to burst open again. It’s this strange sort of flapping motion that reminds you of an umbrella opening and closing. Mammon won’t even notice, not until you gush over it. After that, he’ll be so flustered by his involuntary movements that he’ll try to chase his own wings, circling around on his feet while cursing. He’ll do his best to keep them hidden from you behind his back, but you can still hear the fluttering. Pretending like he didn’t hear you, he’ll attempt to get you to repeat what you said. This is your chance to take things to the second stage. If you bombard him with enough sweet words, he’ll have no choice but to bounce from foot to foot, shifting the weight on his feet as joy floods his body. The wings attached to his back will then waggle up and down, waving themselves in the air. You’ll be permitted to watch this for a while before realization dawns on him and he goes back to manhandling his blasted demon form. At one point he managed to grab one of them with his mouth and growled even. You have it on video.

Levi

Difficulty: (2/7)

The second easiest. Just above Mammon in difficulty due to the fact that he’s in his room all the time and does his best to get himself out of humiliating situations. However, he’s truly an open book, and an emotional one at that, which is why he and Mammon tend to butt heads so often. They’re more alike than either of them will ever admit--w-which is not at all! How anyone could--could see similarities between Levi-chan and stupidmammon is ridiculous!--Similar or not, you could simply look in Levi’s direction and he would blush, and so of course when he’s in his demon form, there will be no hiding his emotions there either.

When to do it: It will have to be in his room, it’s his safe space and so he’ll be more open to expressing himself when he’s in his sanctuary. There’s no real way around this. It will have to be a good day, so try to prepare by keeping his meddlesome brothers away. Keep an eye on how much internet they’re all using, and then try to monitor them so they’ll use less, making Levi’s loading times effortless. Let Levi know in advance that you want to hang out, that way he can get his mental state in check! This should be good enough to influence a happy tail-wagging Levi for when he permits you to enter his room.

How to do it: Safety and comfort are the name of the game. Let him do whatever he wants and don’t make fun of him for it. It’s hard for him to be passionate about the things he truly enjoys without his brothers picking it apart or ruining it altogether. Let him speak. Be patient with him as he tries to string together a coherent plot with fragmented statements like “Oh, but there was also when-”, or “Oh, and how could I forget this happened! I’ll need to go back a bit!” If he ever says sorry, assure him there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t necessarily have to be interested in the things he likes, but if you listen to him and let him feel safe enough to be vulnerable, you’ll have him in the palm of your hand.

What happens: It will happen the longer he rambles. His tail will start to slowly sway across the floor, the gentle sheer sound of smooth scales brushing across smooth tile. The more he feels safe around you, the more traction the tail will get, happily snaking back and forth as the glint of light off his scales reflect back on the ceiling. Of course, you can’t help but stare, which he notices. He’ll grab his tail in his arms, preventing it from moving as best as he could while being a mortified mess. Although you can still see the tip of it twitching, rattling, and quivering. If you comfort him in knowing you aren’t there to make fun of him, that you think it’s actually sweet and cute he feels that protected around you, he’ll let his tail drop to the floor. Only because his hands are now being used to cover his blushing face. The pounding in his chest is drowned out by the intense thumping of his tail against the floor. At one point you managed to pet it and could’ve sworn you saw Levi’s tongue dart out of his mouth, but Levi denies it ever happened.

Satan

Difficulty: (6/7)

Right under Lucifer as the second most difficult to provoke a physical reaction from. He’s spent millennia doing his best to keep his wrath under control, so controlling other emotions is even easier for him. Although, he’s second in difficulty only because he doesn’t care as much for appearances as Lucifer does. I mean, if his attire is anything to prove--I mean, of course Satan is the bigger man in this aspect, truly. It’s foolish to be so caught up in how you look to other people. He’s not that vain, so if anything, he’s better than his brother. Your main worry is being able to see these emotions in his demon form. Demon form usually equals violence in Satan’s case. Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that.

When to do it: Make sure it’s a day he’s calm, obviously. Ideally, you’ll both be in a quiet place like his room or the library. If you can, make sure it’s a day where there are no distractions and no noise, which in the House of Lamentation unfortunately only comes by once every century. So, if that means paying Mammon to go on a little shopping spree, making Asmo go with him since coincidently he’s run out of his favorite perfume that you totally didn't use for this excuse, informing Beel that there’s a special going on today of his favorite snacks, bribing Belphie to go along since he’s about to get the show of a lifetime, and then ‘accidently’ letting Lucifer know Mammon stole his credit card, well then, that’s what you’re going to have to do to get some peace (sorry Mammon). Just pulling that off alone will get you some extra brownie points with Satan.

How to do it: Be inquisitive! Ask him about anything, and it’s likely he’ll know the answer. In fact, he’s almost amused when you treat it like a game, quizzing him about any obscure and specific topic and seeing what he knows of it. If there happens to be something the two of you are unsure of, he’ll find the book and you’ll both learn together. In return, he’ll have you talk about the human world, about cultures, about topics you’re interested in. Asking questions is your ticket into getting him into demon form as well. If you simply tell him you’re dying to get a closer look at demon features because you’re so fascinated, he’ll be inclined to transform for you. Satan encourages and rewards curiosity. Of course he knows your plan already, but all your efforts just because you were eager to note how his demon form would react? Well, he’s willing to give in just to observe your feedback as well. It’s also worth noting that bringing up Lucifer in the conversation will immediately ruin your plans. Satan wants to feel special, so give him your full attention!

What happens: You had to first coax the tail he so often kept wrapped around his leg to come loose. Once it did, it enjoyed flicking itself back and forth every so often when he was amused, the end curling up and down when you said something particularly enjoyable. They were small simple gestures, but you wondered if you could draw out more. You threw out a sudden ‘psst psst psst’ like one might do to a cat. His tail shot up straight in the air before he glared at you, albeit with a slight smirk. With a new playful expression on his face, his tail whipped back and forth harder, sharper, convincing you that he might pounce were you not careful. Although, he still seems very aware of his movements, which defeated the purpose of the involuntary aspect. So, acting like there was something on his face, you stepped over. You struck by scratching the underside of his chin. His entire tail quivered, trembling, the bony skeleton-like structure of his tail rattled. Pushing you away, he’ll marvel at his own demon form which seemed to have a new mind of its own. It tucked itself between his legs for a few seconds after the initial embarrassment, then continued to shiver and shake anytime he looked at you. This is exactly why he keeps it wrapped around his leg in the first place.

Asmo

Difficulty: (4/7)

Amso is another expressive individual, in fact almost more so than Mammon. However, Asmo is a master of the body, and is absolutely aware of how he moves and acts in front of other people. Every movement he makes is completely intentional, it adds to his charm, to his popularity. Every eye flutter, every finger curl, it’s all purposeful. He can’t accidently slip up in his body language! Who do you think he is? He can’t afford to do anything embarrassing, it’ll ruin his reputation. However if you get him alone--not like that, this is a wholesome guide--he might not have to worry about his image so much.

When to do it: This part isn’t hard, just tell him you want to spend time with him, in private. After thoroughly getting it across to him that, no, it’s not as dirty as he’s making it out to be, he’ll still be happy to squirrel you away for himself. His brothers are running you ragged, they’re such brutes. He’ll make sure to take good care of you...Sometimes you wonder if he can’t control the way his suggestions sound. Perhaps interest him in the idea of a self care day. He’ll be more than happy to paint your nails, style your hair, whatever you feel comfortable doing. You might have to continuously lead him away from the idea of letting him bathe you, but he truly just wants to treat you. However, the more you spend time alone together, the more he acts a bit more like himself. When he’s around you and not in the public eye, he can let himself relax a little, instead of always needing to live up to those social expectations.

How to do it: This is the trickier part. As Asmo is the demon of lust and a certified social media star, he gets compliments daily, several gifts from potential lovers, and all the physical touch he could ever need. At a glance, he gets enough attention than any one person should ever need. However, he secretly craves quality time together, and no not like what you’re thinking--Unless you want it to be, and then he’ll happily oblige~-- He needs time to destress, to wind down, to spend time with someone who doesn’t care if he’s perfect all the time. Make him feel comfortable in his own skin, and I don’t care what he says, because there’s a hidden part of him that isn’t. So sit him down for a movie night, convince him to take off his makeup. Let him relax in his demon form since not only is it truly him, but you’ll need it for your plan. Brush his hair while he tells you about his day. Get him away from social media as best you can so he can “detox”, making sure it’s simply you and him. He doesn’t need Likes to be Asmo, he doesn’t need to be perfect to be worth it.

What happens: He will act like he has no idea what you’re talking about for sure. Imperfections? He doesn’t know them. Truly he’s not so insecure as you think he is? Like Levi? Please...But your words have gotten through to him. The soft actions and...chaste time together that you’ve shown him throw him for a little loop. It’s like aftercare but...all the time with you. His wings can’t quite contract like Lucifer’s or Mammon’s, so they just bob up and down, flapping occasionally which messes up his hair. He looks on in confusion. Since when had he been so focused on you that he forgot how to present himself? It drives him insane, how embarrassing! And of course, the more you convince him he has nothing to be worried about, how it’s actually adorable, the more flustered he gets. You always knew how to compliment with no other motives. Instead of a wagging motion, his wings will move from side to side, hitting against each other. It sounds like light clapping. Asmo hates how his wings move like this, striking against each other when he’s pleased. He’s worked so hard on controlling it, and now he’s doing it in front of you. He’s immediately going to go hide, but it doesn’t prevent you from hearing the adorable sound of tapping.

Beel

Difficulty: (3/7)

The third easiest demon to get those special demon form movements from. He really cares for you, like a lot, and he’s the only one who isn’t afraid to say it and show it. In fact, the only reason why he isn’t ringing up at number one is due to the fact that he’s not overly flustered by his movements, he’s doing them on purpose to show you he cares, which is kinda what you’re going for here. Getting a reaction out of him without him being in full control is going to be a little bit harder, which is why he’s coming after Mammon and Levi. You want to catch him off guard, making him do things he wouldn’t normally do.

When to do it: You don’t have to try to sneak and lie and trick him into doing anything. He’s not worried about a ruined image or anything like that. Just make a day to spend time with Beel, tell him you’re bringing snacks, and tell him it would make you the happiest human in the Devildom to have him be in his demon form. That’s all you have to do, Beel loves your honesty, it lets him know you trust him and in return he trusts you. Super easy.

How to do it: Bringing him food will definitely achieve putting a smile on his face and getting him in a better move, but it won’t bring out the soft side of him, and you want maximum softness. Beel is always taking care of his brothers, being the backup when Lucifer cannot, and just generally doing his best to keep the peace in the family. He’s the big strong bodyguard, the protector. So, to really throw him for a loop, to make him act beside himself, you’re going to protect this boy. Let him feel small even though it’s physically impossible with how large he is, especially in demon form. Let him be weak and vulnerable and safe in your arms even if they’re half the size of Beel’s. Give him snacks, make him sit on the floor and tilt his head back into your lap. You can try to have him sit in your lap-- Just be careful, the last thing he wants is to hurt you, seeing as how you’re so fragile…--He rarely ever drops his guard, so it’s a nice change of pace for him. Plus, he finds it absolutely adorable trying to be his protector, attempting to act three times your size. But he truly appreciates what you’re going for, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel nice to be taken care of for once.

What happens: You’re able to hear the deep buzz of his wings as they flutter against his back. He frowns, immediately causing the noise to halt. He still doesn’t particularly care for these new ones compared to his older ones. However, the pleased look on your face along with glimmering eyes causes a touch of pink to grace his cheeks. Alright, he can’t deny you what you want. So he lets his wings do what they want. They vibrate intensely, a small whirlwind kicking up in your bedroom, the buzz turning into a deep hum. Your eyes go wide, at least until the intense winds almost knock you to your feet. Then the air stops and you’re wrapped up in his arms. You have to squirm out of his arms to prevent him from becoming the shield again. He’ll try to tell you that he’s not cute, so persuade him he is. Sometimes he wishes he had wings like Lucifer’s so he could wrap you up in them, but he supposes his arms will have to suffice. Every so often now, he lets his wings buzz for you, grateful you accept him for who he is. Unfortunately, no matter how hard you try, he always goes back to being the one protecting you. Although, every so often now he’ll come to you to feel safe.

Belphie

Difficulty: (5/7)

The demon of sloth is far too lazy to even walk most of the time much less moving his tail. A lot of times, when he is in his demon form, it ends up dragging itself across the floor. Not to mention he’s got a nearly indestructible emotion wall built up around him in the form of apathy and a bit of bratiness. Getting him to become so physically and emotionally moved by you to lose control of himself is going to take some work.

When to do it: He’s asleep during the day mostly, so if you attempt to do it during normal hours, you’ll need to have a crazy amount of luck. So, it’s suggested you approach this demon at night, very late at night. So late, you know you’ll have regrets in the morning, or hopefully no regrets if you manage to pull this off. It will have to be past curfew, because if there’s anything Belphie loves more than sleeping, it’s opposing Lucifer. Get him alone where the sky is full of stars and the house is plunged into slumber.

How to do it: Let him feel validated. Of course, there’s a lot of...grey area around him for some things, but in the here and now, just listen to what he has to say. He has seven older siblings, it’s easy for his voice to get lost in the clamor. Maybe if someone had just listened to his woes before taking action, things wouldn’t have gone the way they did. And, he did spend a lot of time alone, where he wasted countless nights hoping someone would just talk to him. So he appreciates how you can sit there, staying quiet--which nearly every one of his dumb brothers seems to be incapable of except his twin--letting him be heard. Who knows, if you feel vulnerable enough to share some of your deeper problems, he’ll find a newfound respect for you. There’s something about being able to relate to someone, to be able to spend hours just going back and forth where each party just makes them feel accepted. Of course, he’ll act like it’s no big deal, that this isn’t special, that this means nothing to him.

What happens: It’s slow, like almost everything about him. But, you can see his tail lift itself up off the ground, the end curling. It likes to slowly sway, the furry end gently dangling back and forth in a soothing motion, like it was being blown by the wind. That’s all you can really get out of him, since anything more would be too much effort. It’s very subtle, but you notice every detail. Like most things about him, it makes you sleepy somehow, the placid rocking motion. It takes a very long time till he realizes what he’s done. Then his tail will hit the ground with a faint thud. If you ignore it long enough, out of the corner of your eye, you’ll watch it drift back and forth against the ground, a barely noticeable pink hue to Belphie’s cheeks. The more you look away, the more it’ll curl around to where you’re sitting, making the demon of sloth blink, attempting to tug his tail back away from you. It’ll crawl back, moving so slowly you can’t notice the changes anymore, but he does, and he can’t tell why it keeps trying to protect you from behind. Oh well. Best to not think about it. Right?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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itsagrimm · 3 years

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Imperial Tech 5

CN: soldier life in a fascist state, getting observed and recorded, violence, drug abuse, getting drugged without explicit consent, memory loss, forbidden relationship, getting carried + lifted up, tech & ONCE doing a lot of selfreflecting

Summary: The scenario plays out with Techs and not Crosshairs inhibitor chip working. Y/N is part of the elite squad working under commander Tech. Y/N gets called ES-01 or ONCE by their team somethimes. Previously, they killed senator Tarr, took the Syndullas into custody and are now on the hunt for Hera. (Basically everything just like in the show except for Tech in charge instead of Crosshair)

Imperial Tech X They Them Reader

Part 4

XXXXXX

Ryloth was starting to become Techs least favourite planet to been on. The planet had a challenging terrain, Admiral Rampart was continuously holding him back, but most importantly the dust forced Tech to clean his glasses several times per rotation.

But even with the dirt gone from the lenses the screens showing surveillance data from all Ryloth gave no clue to Hera Syndullas whereabouts.

Tech leaned back. He just needed to be patient. Hera would turn up sooner or later. Children had a high dependency and emotional connection to their caretakers and were unlikely to leave them behind even it was the most rational decision to ensure their own survival.

A part of his mind kept observing and evaluating the data. Another part wandered off. This morning Y/N had cried. Tech had wanted to keep Y/N close so that he could keep the one person calming him down safe, but he had failed. His miscalculation and lack of information about Y/N inner workings had come with the cost of Y/N breaking down into his arms. The regret of carrying out a killing order was too much for Y/N. His command was the direct cause for their pain. And yet Y/N only had whispered about the Empire and service to it itself as root for their misery. A grand and dangerous claim, still Tech could see some causality between the Empire existing and Y/N’s suffering.

But he still hated himself.

Tech had scrambled the recording in Y/N’s helmet to keep this treasonous confession off the records. And he had sedated Y/N to buy them some time to collect themselves. Extrapolating from the way the former clone force 99 had been treated the Empire would never allow a soldier like Y/N to feel regret or be critical and would punish every kind of perceived treason or weakness. And so, his report noted a minor concussion. As a trained medic and commander no one had questioned his claims. For now, he had at least in some way kept his ONCE safe even it was just picking up the pieces of his previous mistake. Another wave of self-loathing washed over Tech.

But at the same time, he felt pride swelling up his chest. The feeling of him carrying Y/N into the security of the LAAT. Their head resting on his shoulder. Half-closed eyes searching for answers from him and lips whispering Tech.

He grinned.

Oh yes, he could get used to that.

The memory was intoxicating. His overclocked mind stuttered at the thought of Y/N’s body in his arms. Like always Y/N calmed and slowed his thought process like nothing ever before.

Tech breathed in and took another look at the data before him. Still no sign of Hera Syndulla. The comm was silent as well. Surprisingly pleased he took a sip of caf before devoting his main attention to Y/N again.

Tech had arrived at the conclusion that he cared for ES-01. He wanted to know everything about them. A part of his brain spiralled around with a constant loop of thoughts about them and their well-being. And just the thought of Y/N’s physical presence near him gave him a calm he had never known before even with his brothers.

He knew that his attachment to his subordinate was forbidden. And he knew that whatever his feelings and basically needfor Y/N in his life were likely not reciprocated. He was just a clone even with his desirable mutations. And he was their commander. Any kind of romantic interaction - not even including physical interaction - was unlikely, overreaching and a danger for them both.

All he had for himself was a little mental box of lovely little memories and even lovelier fantasies of Y/N that kept him occupied in the refresher. That had to be enough.

Another sip from the caf and glance at the monitors. No Hera Syndulla to be found. Nothing of particular interest to note. He checked the comm chatter for news about the Empire or his brothers but there was nothing as well.

But it was fine to ask if Y/N was fine, right? He was their commander and he had given the order to give them some rest, so he was his duty to require report, right?

Tech thought about his brothers. They would know what to do now. Wrecker would support and reassure him no matter what he did. Echo would keep his opinion to himself until asked or in severe disagreement. Hunter would sit down next to Tech, pat him on the shoulder and tilt his head for 12,4 degrees right before giving advice. And Crosshair would just grumble about Tech overthinking again and then just pointing out the most straight forward action.

Crosshair decision making was the easiest to replicate for Tech now.

So that is what he did.

“ES-01?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The bunk room on Ryloth was dark. Someone must have pulled down the blinds. The other members of the elite squad and commander Tech were gone. Y/N checked their comm. Apparently the team was on the hunt for the little Twi’lek girl, that had escaped. Y/N was expected to rest.

What happened?

Their memory was still foggy. The last thing Y/N remembered was being at the canyon, the overwhelming feeling of regret, of breaking down and of commander Tech.

He had…

Y/N checked their arm. A little puncture was visible there.

Yes, a part of their memory slowly returned.

Tech had sedated Y/N. He had drugged them. He had carried them and-

Y/N pulled back the thin blanket. He had removed their armour. Y/N blushed. The memory of his long fingers with little scars carefully peeling Y/N out of the plastoid was rising from the depth of their mind like a lazy fish breaking surface of a deep dark pond.

The door to the bunk room opened. Y/N looked up expecting to see one of the returning elite squad members. Instead, Captain Howzer, clone commander of all the regular troopers on Ryloth, entered. Y/N rose and saluted. He was not in charge of the elite squad, but he outranked Y/N immensely. Howzer just waved them to stand comfortably.

“ES-01, there is no need for such formalities. I hope I am not disturbing you?”

“Not at all. I was left to recover from the last mission. But I am well enough now. How can I help you, sir?”

Howzer smiled. It was a friendly smile, honest and a bit sad.

“They call you ONCE, right? And your squat uses they/them for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mind if I do that too? Numbers and assignments are a bit impractical sometimes so us clones use monikers, but I don’t know too much about naturally born’s and their naming traditions.”

Howzers smile turned a bit shy.

“Not at all, captain. It’s alright.”

Howzer sat down on one of the bunks in front of ONCE. ONCE followed his lead and fell back on their bunk. Now they sat in the small room, their knees nearly touching and smiling like young cadets in polite anticipation.

An awkward second none of them spoke.

“I appreciate you checking on me. But I am sure you are not only here to ask about my health, sir.”

Howzer looked away like he got caught pranking.

“Well… I do think it is my job to make sure everyone on my base is fine. Even if you are not under my command and it isn’t technically my base anymore.” He cleared his throat. “But I do actually need something else from you as well.”

ONCE studies his face. He was a high-ranking officer, an experienced soldier and - like all clones - a warrior. And despite the harsh realities of war that shaped all the clone trooper’s life’s, Howzer had maintained youthfulness in his demeanour. Even now, he looked at ONCE with an open and careful expression.

“What can I do for you, captain?” ONCE finally answered and hinted at the helmet and the build-in listening device as a careful reminder that their conversation wasn’t confidential.

“ONCE, I need to know what happened up there in the canyon.”

“Sir, I am sure I can’t add to what you already know from the reports.” ONCE replied defensively. Whatever Y/N might feel about their life as a soldier, talking openly about their work was a luxury they could not afford. Especially when Y/N was still working through the fragmented memories of being carried and stripped out of their armour by commander Tech.

“The reports do not mention anyone up the canyon.” Howzer continued. “And yet I know that commander Tech had carried you nearly unconscious and a sniper rifle with you both to an LAAT ship that picked you up. And I know that the Twi’lek senator Tarr got hit by a precise blast coming from somewhere of the top of the canyon. I was there. I know what I saw. And I can add all these information together. You need to tell me why it happened.”

Howzers voice had become demanding and intimidating.

And yet he still had the expression of a young man in disbelieve of the atrocities happening in plain sight. ONCE felt hopelessness and regret rising again. Howzer just wanted to understand but it was impossible to explain the banalities of evil at work. The Empire was power hungry. The Twi’leks were resistant. And Tarr had died because he outlived his usefulness as a pawn in this power struggle, killed by ONCE. They remembered that much. But with the listening device in their helmet close by ONCE was in no position to confess without getting court martialled afterwards - if they were lucky.

There was nothing ONCE could say.

“I am sorry, captain. I can only recall very little. But it seems you already know what happened. I am sure you will understand why it happened and that I had no pleasure in following command. But I am a soldier -maybe a bit like you. We are expected to follow orders whatever the costs and then continue on like nothing happened.”

ONCE smiled, hoping he would understand.

Howzer nodded, his expression now nothing but hopeless and lost like a little boy without his family.

ONCE took his gloved hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

It was a familiar gesture between two equally helpless hostages not in control of their life’s.

A desperate look crossed Howzer before he silently formed a word with his lips, carefully hiding his message from the listening device.

Hera

It was the Twi’lek kids name that got away. The kid, that the elite squat was hunting down.

ONCE shook their head.

No, they don’t have her. Yet.

Y/N’s comm lighted up – the Commander calling in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Commander Tech was in the observation room. Various monitors displayed a never-ending racing flow of surveillance data in aurebesh, numbers and holo transmissions.

Most of it was in in Basic, some wasn’t.

Staring at it with a cup of caf in his hands was the commander.

“How are you feeling?” He asked without looking away from the screens.

“Better.”

In the blue tinted electronic light coming from the holo screens Y/N could see Tech raising an eyebrow.

“I am not only your commander but also your medic. Are you sure you are fine and therefore fit for duty?”

Y/N considered the underlying question. Do you want to return to being a soldier?

“Sir, as long as I am well enough to perform, I am expected to serve.” I don’t have a choice but to return. I can walk steady on both my feet and hold a gun therefore I am good enough to be cannon fodder again. That’s what I signed up for.

Tech tilted his head and took a sip from his cup.

“That is valid point you’re making. As you can see, I am a bit busy with searching the run-away Hera Syndulla. Officially, I can’t examine and clear you fit for duty right now. But I will take your word under the condition you stay close to me in case something happens. Is that alright with you?”

ONCE considered. The commander was asking for a favour. He wasn’t ordering. And he had not only covered for them once but was concerned about their safety. In the oddest way possible and considering the circumstances ONCE was tempted to call this romantic.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

Y/N sat down next to Tech.

“Do you remember everything from this morning, ONCE?”

His tone was casual. But there was more to it.

“I…yes, I think I remember everything.” ONCE paused looking at Tech. His face was unmoved and impression-less. His eyes hidden behind the lenses, blue by the mirroring screens. “Sir, I am very thankful for your… actions.”

Still, nothing. Maybe all his kindness and patience with ONCE was imagined. Maybe he was just their commander and his reasons from saving ONCE from military questioning and punishment was purely practical.

ONCE felt like an utter fool.

“Fascinating.”

“I am sorry, sir?” Confused they looked at the commander.

“Comm the squad and get your full gear. We are getting attacked.”

An alarm went off.

ONCE saw several alarms popping up on the screens.

A feeling of dread and terror rose in ONCE. Returning to duty was one thing. Entering a fight was another.

Tech grabbed them at the arm, pulling them closer and forcing them to look up to his towering dark height. “Remember, stay close to me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Y/N left Tech with a look of anxiety and confusion in their eyes.

*crack*

He grimaced painfully. He had broken the cup in his hands, caf dripping down on his armoured leg now. Maybe hiding everything about himself from Y/N would be harder than he thought it would be.

He sighted and allowed himself to linger a bit more on the thought of Y/N and before devoting himself to the tasks ahead.

Someone had attacked the refinery.

What an odd choice. Was it a coincidence with the Syndullas in custody here on the base? Or was there a plan and connection between those facts?

His eyes squinted to see better. Damn Ryloth and its dust. His googles were dirty again.

The Surveillance data showed the leaving troopers going to the refinery. Quiet a lot of them.

If all those troopers left, who would guard the prisoners?

Tech leant back. Caf dripping down his leg, glasses dirty and surrounded by idiots. What was he doing here?

Movement on the screens made Tech face the wall of monitors again.

The surveillance camera transmitted a stream from the refinery with two clones running over the fortified walls.

Echo.

Hunter.

His brothers were here. Tech felt his body respond with a rush of endorphins he quickly tried to ignore.

Think Tech! Don’t let these traitors distract you! What does their presence mean?

He was sure now. Directly attacking the refinery was too simple. Even without him the strategies of his brothers always were absurdly chaotic and erratic. The straight attack just had to be a distraction.

He opened a comm channel to his elite squat.

“Commander speaking. Come to the base shipyard as soon as possible.”

“Sir, isn’t the attack on the refinery?”

“I know, ES-04. Just follow your orders.”

“But sir-“

Tech ended his connection and rolled his eyes. His brothers never had reacted like that. They always knew he had reasons behind his actions.

Frustrated he threw away the broken cup and put on his helmet.

The shipyard was nearly empty. Most LAAT’s and smaller ship were off to the refinery. The attack had drawn nearly all forces away.

ONCE and the Elite squat waited for commander Tech. A couple of regs were with them.

“Who are those?” Tech required.

“Sir, the regular troopers were off duty. I called them in for back up.”, ONCE replied. As always, they were the only one thinking and getting what he had already figured out.

“Good. Get into position before the main gate. Facing inward.”

“The enemy is inside already?”

“Likely. And this is their way out.”

“They? Who is our enemy?”

“Clone force 99.”

The door opened.

Both troopers and elite squad raised arms. But instead of prisoners or the bad batch, Howzer stepped outside.

“Oh.” Tech stated flatly. He hadn’t considered the inner emotional workings at play. Again.

“Brothers!” Howzer call out to the troopers. “What are we doing? We came her to free Ryloth from separatist control. And we succeeded. But look around you. Now we are being ordered to target the very people we sworn to protect! And I will not be a part of it any longer.”

The captain threw down his weapon.

“Who is with me?”

For a short second no one moved. Tech felt his head running at high speed, calculating every option for further action. ONCE, standing next to him, started shaking.

He went cold.

If ONCE threw down their weapons now, they were dead. Tech could do nothing to save them from the empire. Admiral Rampart or whoever imperial was in charge would court martial them. Y/N would be dead. He didn’t need to calculate the chances for that, to know their survival rate were slim.

Please don’t leave me. Tech, suddenly ready to pray to whoever gods were willing to listen to his pleas, leant towards Y/N, unable to stop himself.

They stopped shaking the moment his armour touched theirs.

Some of the regs laid down their weapons. ONCE kept their rifle, unmovable. Relief washed over Tech.

“Arrest those traitors.” He ordered, thinking of anything else but the one person he truly wanted to be saved right now. Even if he had to sacrifice a battalion of regs for that to draw attention away from Y/N.

The elite squad and the loyal troopers moved in. Tech felt detached from what was happening. Nothing mattered. Not even the shuttle with his brothers lifting off somewhere.

He wanted Y/N, wanted to hold them and whisper sweet words and promises he damn well intended on keeping just to make sure that they would be fine and safe. He looked up to see his Y/N putting hand cuffs on Howzer, sneaking a small blade into his boot. His brain registered it but did not care. As far as he was concerned ONCE could commit every act of treason and he would still be ready to commit mass murder just to cover their tracks. Whatever Tech had thought he could keep to himself was brought bare before him the moment Y/N had been in mortal danger, his need for Y/N unable to be hidden.

>>>>>

Do you want to be tagged in the next part or like my writing in general? Write me a message.

<<<<<<<

Part 6

#tbb toxic tech #tbb tech #tech x you #imperial tech #tech x y/n #tech x reader #the bad batch tech #tech bad batch #tech #the galactic empire #tbb #the bad batch #grimmwriting #i shortend this one because i was sitting on it and basically half wrote the next chapter already #star wars the bad batch #tbb tech fic #captain howzer

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mfb-better-fury · 3 years

Text

Episode 4

Night

Atop a mountain shrouded in mist, a young man meditates within a temple. In his mind, he sees flashes of light, hears battle cries, and feels uncertainty. Of these lights, four shine brighter than the others, while one pulses with darkness instead. He muses to himself that four warriors have already awoken, but that the great evil has already obtained their own star fragment.

He turns his focus toward one of the unawakened lights. It is the dimmest of them all, telling him the warrior connected to it is not only unaware of their power but has no one to guide them to it.

Opening his eyes, he briefly glances across the room at a small box sitting on a shelf. Quietly he says to himself: “It seems you were right after all. If you had only waited a short while longer…”

His hand closes tighter around the cracked, jade-carved item in his lap. It pulses, then gains a steady glow. Closing his eyes, he thinks: “For the sake of this world...to prevent any more losses...I will do whatever I can.”

Day

In Madoka’s kitchen, Gingka and Ryo are watching her whirl about in a frenzy as she cooks. Gingka asks Benkei how long she’s been like this, and Benkei has to check the clock before saying it’s been a while. He’s pretty sure she’s overreacting about the person they’ll be meeting. Ryo questions who this person is, but when Benkei tries to answer he’s interrupted by Kenta’s arrival. He greets them, then realizes Madoka hasn’t registered him at all. The others can only shrug.

Ryo excuses himself as he gets a phone call, leaving the gang to themselves. They watch Madoka in awe for a moment before Gingka notes he’s never seen her like this before. It’s almost like she’s panicking. Benkei admits that might be it – he’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but he knows she seems very protective of ‘him’.

Ryo returns shortly to say that Hikaru’s uncle is bringing her, and asks Benkei if he knows if Kyoya might show up. Benkei as always is certain Kyoya will come through, though his usual cheery mood is somewhat lessened as he thinks back to the dark power spike.

By the time Hikaru arrives, Madoka has set the table and the others are already eating. Madoka greets her a bit breathlessly before telling her to help herself. After returning Ryo’s suit jacket, Hikaru sits down and does so. They note she seems to be a bit more put together than she was the day before, and she gives an uncertain, “I guess so.”

Kyoya arrives before too long and wants to get to business right away, but Madoka tells him they can’t until one more person arrives. Once again, Gingka questions this, and Madoka explains that there’s someone who’s been studying the star fragment for years. He watched the new one arrive and came to find them. Kenta imagines he must be someone old and important, but Benkei assures him that whatever he’s picturing, it’s not accurate.

Though Kyoya doesn’t touch the food, he does ask Benkei about Bull’s state. Benkei assures him that he and Bull will be battling again in no time, so there’s no need to worry. Kyoya’s slight smile of relief goes unseen by most of them, but Benkei just beams brighter.

Outside, Yuki is being walked to the B-Pit by Ryutaro, Tobio, and a very bored Tetsuya. He thanks them again for both their escort and for allowing him to stay the night with them. Ryutaro assures him it’s no problem, though is concerned that he didn’t eat enough for breakfast. Yuki explains with some amusement that Madoka tends to stress cook and he’s certain about 3 breakfasts are waiting for him.

Tetsuya complains about being dragged along, but when Tobio points out this could be seen as his way of repaying Madoka for fixing Gasher, he reluctantly goes quiet. Yuki watches their dialogue but is unsure how to take it, simply deciding they are very interesting people.

As they reach the B-Pit, Yuki fishes out a key for the employee entrance and unlocks the door. He thanks them a third time before he’s pretty much shooed inside, after which Tobio wonders if Yuki knows how to not be polite. Ryutaro however finds it a refreshing change, but doesn’t go into detail when Tobio asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Yuki makes his way through the back of the store and towards the stairs, he runs a list through his head of everything he needs to say, ending with the most important thing: Keep hold of himself and just stay calm. Everything will be alright. He keeps repeating this to himself as he turns the corner to enter the kitchen, but it dies off as he sees Madoka and her friends. They don’t notice him right away until Kenta turns his head. He’s perplexed but points him out to Madoka.

Madoka rushes out of her seat to greet him, startling not just him but everyone. When she hugs him, Yuki finds himself finally relaxing again, and unfortunately can’t stop his tears. In concern Madoka asks if he’s alright, or if something happened to him during his trip. He tries to protest, but reaching up to wipe his eyes lets Madoka see his injury again. Now seeing it up close, she can tell it isn’t simply from falling like he’d claimed, and asks him what happened. Yuki argues it’s not important and tries to brush his emotions off as simply being overwhelmed by seeing her again. Though suspicious, Madoka lets it go for now.

The others are introduced to Yuki, with both Kyoya and Ryo giving him odd looks. Finding out that he is Madoka’s cousin is a surprise to them all. Benkei encourages him to eat before they get started, remembering how tired he had looked on their call the day before. Madoka gives him a grateful smile.

As Madoka starts cleaning up, Gingka tells Yuki about her flurry in the kitchen earlier, and Yuki admits he’d been expecting nothing less. Madoka comments he’s just lucky her dad is out of town – otherwise, there would’ve been twice as much food. Yuki agrees, saying that Uncle Akigo stress-cooks even more than she does.

Once all the food is put away, Kyoya asks if they can get started already. Yuki is startled by him speaking so suddenly but is cut off by Madoka telling Kyoya not to be so rude. She then explains that the whole thing is complicated, so they need a moment to figure out where to start. Ryo suggests they begin with how they know whatever it is they know in the first place. After the cousins exchange a look, Madoka nods for Yuki to start.

Yuki’s answer is a direct quote of the legends of Koma Village, startling them – “Long long ago, a star fell from the sky. Through the ages, the tops born from that star fragment changed shape and evolved into the beyblades of today.” Ryo and Gingka question how he knows this, and Yuki explains that he grew up hearing these stories from his grandfather ever since he was young. Ryo realizes this means Yuki’s grandfather would have come from Koma Village. He then ponders over Yuki’s name and wonders: “He couldn’t possibly be…”

Yuki continues, saying that his grandfather would often take the both of them to a hill to see the vast sky full of stars. He remembers the night they had been told another legend from Koma Village – “When a dazzling glow lights up the earth from the heavens, a new star fragment will arrive and awaken a great power.” His grandfather said that their ancestors believed that a new star fragment would appear in the far future. He believed that time may be closer than they think, and promised them that they would see the new star fragment if it was their destiny.

The others question Madoka as to why she had never mentioned any of this. She first corrects their assumptions, saying that Grandpa was Yuki’s maternal grandfather, and she’s not related to him. She then admits that with everything that had happened before Kenta told them Gingka was from Koma Village, she had been so caught up in keeping their beys ready to go and collecting data on them that these childhood memories had slipped her mind.

Yuki goes on to say that he became intensely interested in when exactly the new star fragment would arrive. Using various astronomical observations and research of ancient ruins, he created a timeline of the universe that would calculate the time of its arrival. Madoka briefly cuts in to complain she’s still annoyed he didn’t want her help. After sheepishly apologizing, Yuki goes on to say that his most important reference came from the ancient Mayans. Ryo explains that they were an ancient civilization that created a group of calendars based on the movement of the stars. Yuki adds to this explaining one of those calendars predicted the arrival of the new star fragment. It wasn’t just the Mayans however – he found legends like those of Koma Village in his research from many ancient civilizations. Yuki is certain the meteor from the night before last is the new star fragment, and the light from his grandfather’s legend has appeared. “When a dazzling glow lights up the heavens...” He believes this to be the explosion of Spiral Force released into space by Gingka. This startles Gingka, who seemingly didn’t think on it all that hard before now.

The new star fragment has arrived, Yuki and Madoka know this for a fact. However, depending on who obtains its power, it could be used for either good or evil. This prompts Ryo to quote: “Where there is light present, darkness can creep in. So a new light may very well become a tunnel of darkness.” He explains this is a continuation of Koma Village’s legends. Their ancestors left these words to foretell the possibility that with the new star fragment would come an evil presence wanting to use it.

Yuki agrees that his grandfather feared that more than anything – that rather than being the beginning of a new era of beyblade, it would be the sign of a new age of chaos. He had warned them that the star fragment must not fall into the hands of evil, and they must be sure to prevent that.

Yuki believes his grandfather had sensed an evil presence that would go after the star fragment. He then corrects himself saying the star fragment itself must have as well. This is why it split into multiple points of light to scatter across the world. One of these lights hit him, and at that moment he heard the star fragment’s voice. Though the others express confusion and surprise, Yuki is certain that’s what it felt like – the star fragment pushed images into his head as if trying to communicate with him. One of these images was that of the cloaked figure, from which Yuki had immediately sensed evil. The next was of the sun being overtaken by a black star which he identified as Nemesis. The star fragment also gave him the information of “blade warriors”, or “legendary bladers”. Yuki warns the others that there is a great evil that will harness the unknown power of the star fragment, using it to revive the black sun, Nemesis. This would turn the world to darkness.

Now turning to Hikaru and Kyoya, Yuki begs them to lend him their strength. Hikaru isn’t sure what to say and Kyoya simply doesn’t respond. Benkei thinks Yuki must have been dreaming it all.

Madoka understands it is hard to believe, but the Mayans themselves predicted the day of humanity’s destruction, and it is coming soon. Yuki confirms this, believing it is tied to Nemesis’ revival. This is why the star fragment split itself, to entrust the earth to its chosen bladers. These legendary bladers were given the star fragment’s power, with there being thirteen in total. He’s also certain the enemy is looking for the legendary bladers as well to gain their power. This can’t be allowed to happen.

Ryo has now put the pieces together – the combination of the star fragment’s power in Leone along with Kyoya’s burning spirit is what caused the bey to transform. Kenta agrees, suggesting that the fragment in Aquario must have reacted to Hikaru reawakening hers. Hikaru expresses uncertainty at this, but as she remembers her mother’s words the day before, bites it back and stays quiet.

Kenta and Benkei express their hopes to become legendary bladers as well. Yuki is uncertain but admits that it is a possibility. This only furthers their excitement.

Madoka now questions Yuki about his injury, asking outright if he truly just fell. Now confronted, Yuki confesses to being attacked while trying to reach them the day before, and that he was rescued by Tobio and then aided by Ryutaro. He believes that the one who attacked him must work for the enemy, meaning the great evil has already begun working toward Nemesis’ revival. Benkei expresses his surprise about former Dark Nebula bladers coming to his aid, but Gingka just sees it as proof that their bladers’ spirits are shining bright. Yuki agrees, saying that they were quite nice to him, though also says that Tetsuya just seemed to be getting dragged along against his will.

Gingka assures Yuki that they’re all on board, with Kenta and Benkei agreeing. Kyoya doesn’t seem enthused but isn’t arguing. Hikaru gives no answer, too busy staring at Aquario in her hand. Ryo officially declares the WBBA will aid in the search of the other eleven legendary bladers. Yuki expresses his gratitude to them all.

As Ryo gathers the kids to head to the WBBA to start their search, Kyoya watches Yuki, who is being told by Madoka to stay and rest first before he joins them. When Madoka turns away, Yuki happens to glance over and catches Kyoya’s gaze. Realizing who he is, Yuki pales a little. Before he can stammer out a word, however, Kyoya turns away and leaves, raising his hand in farewell. Yuki observes this for a moment before catching his breath; when Madoka addresses him, he jumps and apologizes for spacing out, then asks for her to reiterate what she’d said.

Ryo pauses as he and the kids leave the shop, causing Gingka to ask if something’s wrong. He assures his son he’s fine and says that he just needs to step back inside and confirm something with Yuki. He’ll meet them at the office.

Ryo finds Yuki setting his things down in the spare bedroom and asks if he could bother him for a moment. He wants confirmation that Yuki said his last name was “Mizusawa”, and Yuki gives it. Now smiling, Ryo asks if his grandfather’s name would happen to be Isao, and a now startled Yuki questions if Ryo knows him. Ryo recounts how Isao was like a mentor to him when he was their age, always keeping him out of the worst trouble. He asks how Isao is doing but is confused when Yuki seems to deflate.

Yuki admits that his grandfather left on a journey just under two years ago, and he lost contact with him shortly after. He has no idea where he is now. This concerns Ryo, but he tries to reassure Yuki that Isao is a tough man to beat. Yuki says that would only be true if he had Anubius. He takes the bey out, saying that it was his grandfather’s parting gift to him. He then wishes he could be half the blader his grandfather is, but his only battle so far has been while he was running for his life.

Ryo puts a hand on Yuki’s shoulder, saying he’s confident that Yuki’s skill will grow in time. He just needs to remember to have faith in Anubius, as well as himself. Yuki seems doubtful of this advice, so Ryo tells him something else: “It’s easy to watch a battle and cheer for someone, but it can be hard to be the blader in the fight. Even so, you won’t know if you’re ready until you get out there and try.”

Yuki is quieted by this, now teary-eyed. Ryo softly tells him that these were words he heard from not just Yuki’s grandmother, his namesake, but his mother as well. Yuki may doubt himself now, but the strength is inside him just waiting to come out. When Yuki begins to cry again, Ryo stands with him and promises that from this point on, they will walk this path together, not only to find the legendary bladers but to find Isao as well.

Outside on a roof across the street from the B-Pit, Johannes is sitting along with some cats and wonders what he should do next.

#Better Fury #Better Fury episode #BF Legendary Bladers #Madoka Amano #Gingka Hagane #Ryo Hagane #Benkei Hanawa #Kenta Yumiya #Hikaru Hasama #Kyoya Tategami #Yuki Mizusawa #Ryutaro Fukami #Tobio Oike #Captain Capri #Tetsuya Watarigani #Johannes

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the-terminal-archive · 3 years

Text

The Power Plant was quiet today.

There was the gentle clinking of movement, none of it seemed brisk to Ametrine. They have grown bored of being in the walls of this safe space, a hundred miles below surface light. It was a little warmer than it was yesterday, perhaps other garnets were forming today? They couldn’t tell. With a huff, they stood up, following the footsteps they heard. They’ve lived here long enough to tell who that was. “Tsavorite!!! You! I’m bored!” “Bored?” It was said with a warm laugh as they turned to face the sterling-plated gem, rearranging their scouter as they thought of what they wished to do. “Hm...are you going to suggest-” “I wanna go outside!” “-You want to go outside, of course.” They glanced away as they remembered the route the other would have to take. “Well, Some of the other Larimar have dug tunnels to look for tiny bits of Uranium and other radioactive bits… You’ll have to take that route up.” “Did you cause another cave-in? Again?” “It’ll be fixed soon enough, Ametrine. Do be careful traversing through there, will you? Wouldn’t want too many particles of that mineral to infest you.” “Mhm!! Mhm!!! Is it cold on the surface today?” “It always is, silly.” “Again??? Ughhhh, but your heating system isn’t enough to keep me warm! I still have to take blankets…” “Oh, come now… it’s not that bad, now is it?” “I feel like a popsicle up there!!!” “Then, would you mind checking a certain mine for me?” “Is it that one stupid place with all that Kimberlite? You know, I’ve been telling you that you could just harvest from there! I don’t see why you don’t want anything from there.” “I’m just biding time. The jewelers wouldn’t want me drilling there yet.”

Jewelers…? “What are those?” Tsavorite was in the middle of replying after the question was begged before Ametrine felt a searing pain in their head. Their hands went up to their head, clenching it violently. They...They hoped this wouldn’t scuff the metal on their scalp. They could hear faint mumbling, but it only made them close their eyes tight, looking away. It felt like their head was splitting in two, every time this happened!

“Oh, dear...is that pain getting to you again? I’m...sorry.” Words finally would get through about a minute later. “Perhaps the information was too much for you to handle. I’m sure going back to the surface would help clear it a little more…” “Then I guess I’ll just go.” They grumbled, trying to keep their mind from going haywire a second time and result in another wave of pain. “Alright. Be safe out there, will you?” “Pff- when am I not…?” “Hah, I simply must make sure. You never know what’s out there.”

“You’re really weird sometimes.”

“Right back at you.” “Hu-Hey!!! No!!! You’re weirder.” “And you’re the weirdest.” The two managed to giggle at such a remark, the smaller turning heel. “Fine! I’ll spend a whole day there, you can’t stop me…!” “If you do, at least have fun while you’re there, alright?” “That’s a promise I can keep!” And with that, they kicked up their boots and darted away.

Already, the new route carved out by all the Larimar looked stunning- clean, dark green in color- it was hard to tell it was a mine at all. Dim, blacklight illuminated shattered Fluorites, which the tiny robots were also collecting by the pound. They had to pause for a moment just to take it all in, a tiny smile brought to their face. Sure, they were gonna miss that other route with all of the masses of different rock, but this was just as interesting! Maybe they’d take this path more often if they could tell how to get to the surface...Because right now, they felt absolutely lost! Well, that is until they saw a piling mass of bluescreening Larimar crowded around a little spot. Ametrine’s visor blinked a few times, a few warning signs popping up about the radioactive particles surrounding the place. Perhaps they could just spare a peek and move on…? They did just that, looking over the small pile to see them crowding over...oh. That was a hand. A hand, glowing a ghastly green in the UV light… It might have been a bit of Uranium, but...What did that even entail?

...Maybe it was just a weird rock growth! Moving along!

It would take them hours to reach the surface, shuddering as the cold air surrounding them. Right, right, the Kimberlite mines… How far was that away again??? Mmm...mmmm… At the base of those mountains….They figured that if they went at top speed, they could get there in ten minutes! Those ten minutes did not account for that one tumble they took, but nobody else saw it! That didn’t happen! They managed to stay warm that whole time just by going as fast as they did! They nearly splatted into the post by the entrance to the abandoned mine, taking a step back and sticking their tongue out at it. “Why did you have to be there? You’re a dummy little wood!!!” Ametrine pouted playfully, glancing away. Was it even warm in these mines…? Entering the place, it was...fairly dark. Hard to see much in someplace that’s been ditched for as long as it has… If you weren’t this neat little plated gem! All they had to do was turn the brightness up a little, and- yep! Haha, there was all the rock! None of it was Kimberlite just yet, but in the gaping pitfalls this mine had, it was easier to see it further down. Sure, it was a long way, but they had all the time in the world! A whole day to spend here, trying once again to find movement that they know isn’t here! Tch, Tsavorite would never have the time of day mining in this place, and it would go to someone else. Oh- right!! The jewelers… They completely forgot to ask that scientist to repeat themself! Dammit… a day of never knowing could very easily turn into decades if they forgot about it all! Hm, perhaps others more commonly spoke of them… Why weren’t they ever spoken of to Ametrine until just now? Maybe to keep them from worrying...silly scientist! Nothing worried them! That’s why they were here! All alone! With absolutely nobody to help or save them if they cried out for help, which they wouldn’t need anywhere in the near future! Yep!!! They were doing this all on their own, like a grown-up gem! Maybe someday they’d be considered healthy enough to go back to all the other yellow or purple gems… They hoped that would be the case sooner rather than later! Hmhm, they could take on anything that was thrown at them! And, that’s when they heard clinking. That...wasn’t from them! Maybe it was from stalactites or something. The Pristine Peaks had that happen a lot, and it kind of sounded like clinking! Hehe…

They heard clinking again, a little louder this time. This got Ametrine to stop for a minute, glancing around and letting light hit wherever it could. They weren’t even that deep into the mine, what could possibly be up here?! Another clink. Another. Another. Several successive clinks, it didn’t sound like something that could walk. “Hello?” They called out into the depths, where they thought the noise was coming from. More clinks. This sure was taking forever for it to show itself, but...at some point, they stopped again. It was at that moment Ametrine sensed movement at the other side of the tunnel they were in, a terrible figure to train their eyes on, but… Once it started approaching again, their heart jumped into their throat. It was a cluster of crystalline masses in the shapes of limbs and faces all smothered together, its appearance smeared into the surreal. It was too shallow in the ground to classify it as diamond, so it must have been a cluster of quartz, but even still- what was something like that doing here?! Ametrine was too scared to do more than sputter out fragments of sentences, silenced only by the shrill cry of it as it continued moving in. Did it- did it wish to tear them apart!? And, just as they were ready to turn heel and book it out of there, Another figure dropped down from a hole in the ‘ceiling’ of this dreaded place, facing towards the beast. “Another of you?! I swear, the next time one of you appears this close to the surface without an innocent closeby, I’ll just let you terrorize the world.” It was hard to see what gem they could be when the place was so dark, let alone the fact they had never heard such a voice before. However, their attention was drawn down as the figure pulled out two sharp, curved daggers...one concealed in each heel. The mess of crystal they stood in the way bellowed again, getting this new soul to say just as sternly back,

“Back down from this fellow quartz, you fiend! I will not let you take a single soul so long as you remain in these mines!”

...Ametrine looked away from the scene, too frightened by the enemy’s appearance to dare glance back. Maybe they should have declined to come to the mines! They would have loved being bored in Tsavorite’s radioactive wasteland than being here… Yet, it was a bit late now, and...they’d have to trust whoever this was, for better or worse.

#Cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run au #ametrine #tsavorite #prologue : the kimberlite mines #cw body horror

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jiminiesmagicshop · 3 years

Text

NOTICE: ONE

Warnings: whoops attempted* angst ;0 other than that, none

Song inspos: it’s ok if you forget me, Astrid S (but imagine the exact opposite of what she sings) & mess it up, Gracie Abrams :’)

Word count: 1,500+

Summary: Jimin notices way too much about you, while you don't notice nearly enough about him. He also needs to invest in some hoodies.

a/n: hi hii :) this is my first completed fic i've writen on here, or anywhere at all for that matter kaplskjjs ahh i really hope you like it. Let me know what you think, feedback is super super welcome!! there is a flashback that's written in italics, and i took ridiculously long trying to come up with a summary which i'm sTILL iffy about. i'm also new on here so let's be frens :))

______________________________________________________________

Park Jimin has never regretted something more in his life. Sure there was the time when he hadn’t listened to his mom when she told him not to climb that one tree in their backyard, which ended with him in a very itchy cast and a long scolding from his mom. Now, years later, he wished his mom had warned him before he gave you a part of him you’d never want or need; his heart.

It’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he knew you held his heart in your small hands (even smaller than his, HA! ) and he thought he didn’t care. Oh how naive he’d been to think that.

2 months ago:

It had been exactly seven months and three days since he realized he was in love with you, his best friend of six years. You had cried in his arms over Aaron? Adam?? He couldn’t really remember who it was this time.

“Why won’t he love me?” His heart breaks as you look at him as though you really want an answer. “Why won’t any of them love me?”

His fingers twitch at your waist. He wants to scream about how much he loves you but he refrains, settling instead for a small pained smile. He doesn’t try to say anything, not trusting himself to not ask you the exact same question. Why won’t you love him? He hugs you harder into his chest as a new wave of tears rack through your body.

He was wearing the purple hoodie you’d once mentioned you loved seeing him in. It was beginning to fray on the left shoulder where you’d always lean into while you cried. Not that you’d notice anyway, but he always wore it when you called with a shaky voice and he invited you over. It felt like it was yours, same as his heart.

He didn’t know how you couldn’t see it. The way he’d drop anything and everything for you. Let you pick any version of himself, let you mould him in any way if it would get you to love him back. He’d always adored you, and somewhere along the line you’d subliminally snatched his heart.

Maybe you’d never love him the way he did you, but he had hope. His heart was big enough. No matter how long it took, how many times you unknowingly broke it, he’d always have enough left to give to you.

He watched you cry and only when you finally curled up, something between a wheeze and a snore coming from you did he speak.

“I love you, i love you forever. Promise.”

He knew you hadn’t even heard the promise he’d made to you two months ago, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing he needed to break it. His friends knew him to be very loving, very selfless, he feels selfish now. He’s leaving merely to save his own heart, breaking yours (though for a totally different reason) in the process.

He’d watched as you gave your heart to different men, never once thinking to give it to him. He was never even an option for you and that hurt. You couldn’t blame him for falling for you, not when you cared so deeply for everyone continuously giving your heart no matter how many times it broke you just gave and gave. The two of you are similar in that sense.

Loving you is painful, like he’s bursting into flames and freezing at the same time. He can’t keep this up. He doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. Hugging you was never a problem, everyone knows how touchy and affectionate he is, however every hug he’s given you in the last few months, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He usually wears his heart on his sleeve, now he feels he needs to constantly check himself hoping you didn’t catch him smiling dopily in your direction.

Jimin couldn’t talk to you without wondering if something he said sounded suspiciously like an ‘i love you’. He couldn’t even listen to his favourite songs anymore, they all reminded him of you, probably because you introduced him to most of them, it hurt all the same.

Had he fallen out of line when he kissed you on the cheek days ago?

He remembers thinking he was invincible when he made that promise, thinking his heart could take it. He also remembers you saying you’d never love someone as much as Andrew? What was his name damnit?

He noticed everything about you, and frankly he was tired. He needed some time to think, to rebuild his heart. To un-notice everything.

He zips up his suitcase, the moving van would be by in a bit to pick up the remaining boxes. The daisies on his windowsill that you got him for his birthday last year are drying up, he notices with a sigh. With one last glance at the room he releases his grasp on the purple hoodie and walks out the front door.

He hasn’t answered your calls all day, and he probably wouldn’t for a while... not that you know that. You think nothing of it as you drive up to his house, eyes puffy from all the crying you’ve been doing. Alex had just called asking to take a break, something about you being too intense and you couldn’t help but replay every moment in your head wondering where you went wrong. You badly needed to rant to your support system otherwise known as Jimin, craving one of his hugs.

You don’t even notice his black Porsche missing from his driveway. And you don’t think much of it when he doesn’t answer the door, simply pulling out the spare key he gave you for moments just like this.

You do, however, notice the emptiness of his house. Where in the heck did his couch go? And why is his house so cold? Where are all the pictures of the two of you and his family that decorated his walls. You’re beginning to get frantic as you search through room after room for something, anything to make this less real. To show you he’ll be back shortly. That he didn’t just up and leave.

Whatever the reason, you’re sure you can get him to come back, or at least talk to you. “Chim?” Your voice echoes through his hallway. Your converse screech on the bare floor and you’re running down the hall to his bedroom. You’re stumbling now, eyes blurry with tears and you call out again “Jimin?” He was really gone.

You only just catch yourself before you hit the ground. You stare at the purple material that had snagged your foot. A purple hoodie lies by you on the floor. You’re sobbing.

Jimin swears the distance between his house and where he’d parked his car a block away wasn’t this long. He’s panting as he grips the door handle, stumbling inside with sweat making his recently dyed-pink hair stick to his forehead.

It was definitely rash of him to just leave the hoodie behind. It was too sentimental to just leave here to collect dust until the landlord discovered it. He missed it already. It smelt partially of you after all your cuddling sessions, and as embarrassing as it might sound, he needed it.

He jogs down the hallway, all the memories the two of you had here send a pang straight to his chest that has him tripping over his feet. That’s when he hears it. Sniffling. Someone was sniffling in his house. More curious than scared, the boy takes cautious steps past the bathroom and towards his bedroom.

His hand comes to rest over his heart, when he sees a head of long pink hair, shade identical to his save for the few bleached streaks he’d missed when the two of you had dyed each other’s hair. His fingers itch to bring you to his chest. You were crying. Because of him.

He reaches out to touch you, his first instinct being to pull you into him, but he stops in his spot when the floorboards beneath him creak. He waits for you to whip around and hug him, maybe scream at him for scaring you with his absence like that. His face scrunches up at your words.

“I can’t do this without you, why would you just leave?”

Jimin has to press a hand into his mouth to keep the sob threatening to expose him silent. Why was he not surprised. Of course you hadn’t noticed how much he’d been struggling the past few months. How his love for you far surpassed that of a best friend. He doesn’t know why he thought you might have noticed. In fact, when was the last time he’d talked to you about his problems?

Whatever fragments there are left of his heart ache. He suddenly misses his mom. Misses her scolding more than anything else, that would hurt much less than this does.

Jimin does what he knows he must.

Like most Jimin related things, you don’t notice what hoodie it is, don’t notice the frayed shoulder, and you most certainly don’t notice the boy who had come back for the hoodie backing away, quiet tears running down his face.

#bts #parkjimin #pjm #jiminangst #pjmangst #btsangst #jiminiesmagicshop #reader x jimin #pjmfics #btsfics #parkjiminangst #angst #best friend jimin

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thefracturedmosaic · 3 years

Text

A Week Pass

Mentions: @divergent-lines @synric-silversong

Nairus found himself in a lull between darkness and white light.

In the light there were voices.

“The wound…”

In the darkness, there were images of the inn room with the empty bed now laid in disarray. The shadows of light played along the walls and corners giving everything a black and white look. The plants were sitting quietly by the window. The chair he usually sat upon was set facing him.

Then there were bright flashes, followed by those voices once more. “Where’s the Priest? We can’t…”

The blackness consumed him followed by a sharp pain situated around his stomach. Blood pooled around him, slowly seeping into the wooden boards. A man standing with his back turned, was there several feet away, his eyes were cast over his shoulder glowing an eerily blue. The only color in the entire room.

A sharp bright flash came followed by, “We need to stitch him.”

“Mey,” Nairus called out as she stood in the doorway of the inn room. The world was still a horrible blackness around them. A cold chill lay over him as if the window had been open and winter was outside.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, staring at him, pain in her eyes, before she turned, soundless, out of his sight.

“Nairus,” the voice was deep, speaking his name in Darnassian. The sound was welcoming. “Nairus,” the voice said, and felt his hand being squeezed.

Nairus grunted, forcing some sort of movement in his body to indicate he was still quite alive and well. He was surprised how much it hurt to move anything but his toes and fingers.

“Easy, easy,” the voice said again.

Recognition began to settle in.

“Father?” Nairus opened his eyes to find the bright light all consuming once again, but there was a shadow, and as he forced himself to look, colors and features began to form.

His father was sitting beside him, a faint smile on his lips. “Thank Elune,” he said, letting the pressure ease from Nairus’s hands. “No, stay still,” his father said once more.

He stopped, but the confusion and the slow trickle of memories were beginning to set a new panic into his body.

After all, the room’s walls were unfamiliar to him. They should have been wood and dark in color. Instead they were stone, white, and bright. The sounds were of faint footsteps, when there had been children running and hollering only a day before.

Where were the birds? The wind? This place smelt of cleaning chemicals and incense.

Rapid fire as his thoughts were, another one set his blood cold.

His father shouldn’t have been here.

His father shouldn’t have even known he was in Stormwind.

“Ho-how are you here?” Nairus asked.

More memories settled in of Mey and the little dragon. Are they okay? Did the dragon--

His father’s voice refocused him. “They asked the other druids if they knew of any Amberleaf’s. Eventually they found your sister. She’s been coming to the city in order to help,” his father’s voice trailed away as his eyes seemed to adjust to something further ahead.

Nairus tried moving to see, failing to do so, tired and languish in his mind and body. He was beginning to realize that his father was slowly seeping in druidic magic into his limbs, relaxing him, forcing him to stay as he was.

A moment later, his father shook his head before looking back towards him.

“There’s detectives that want to speak to you, do you remember what happened? Why you are here?”

Detectives? Why would…

He’d been stabbed, found dying in a room. He remembered now of the guards that had asked him questions, who else was here, was the intruder around…

A long breath of air escaped him. “Lightly. Mostly fragments. I remember the guards coming to my aid, and…” he fell silent. And Mey and the boy and the dragon. A wince shot through him as his head throbbed with a pulsating quick beat before fading.

“They found you in a room, you were stabbed.” His father motioned lightly towards his lower area.

Nairus lifted his head to see only blankets.

“Do you not remember?” His father's voice was thick with concern.

Instead of feeling like he needed to explain himself, he asked, “How bad?” as his gaze flickered back to blankets.

His father's eyes grew wide with brief surprise, before softening and shaking his head. Finally, his father leaned back, letting go of his arm. “Gut wound. Pierced several inches in. They couldn’t close the wound. Curse magic or death magic they said. Humans,” he grunted. “I’m surprised they can even tell the difference apart sometimes. They had a priest come in and cure you after they manually fixed the wound. It's healed.”

Even though his father had said it was healed, his blood ran cold as images of the sword struck him, of him reacting to the pain, the dizzy amount of pain.

“What was it?” He wondered checking to see if he could move. His fingers and toes were still stiff, and joints moreso, but they twitched at his beckon.

“Whatever it was, they cured you before I got here. They kept you sedated during the time, apparently you kept trying to use your magic or move with the stitches in.” He paused briefly. “I checked once I got here. You’ll be sore for a few more days, and it seems you're over your fever at last.” He reached out and set a hand to Nairus' forehead.

Nairus huffed, as his father pulled back, satisfied.

“You remember how it goes?” His father asked after a moment.

Nairus nodded. “Bed ridden for a few days until the muscle heals a little more.” He found strength in his arms, and finally pushed himself up.

His father didn’t stop him, in fact, he helped him to sit straighter against the bed frame. Now able to see his whole lower body, only a faint surprise came to see he was dressed in a typical patient gown.

He wasted no time pulling the edges up to see his own injury.

As his father had said, it was healed, only a pinkish scar remained. Nairus set his hand against it, closed his eyes, and let his own magic work its way through.

After a few seconds, he let out a final breath of relief.

His father was smiling. “I say let the detectives get what they need from you now, and move on,” he said as he rose from his chair. “However, do you need some time to gather your thoughts?” His tone was heavy, leaving an unmistakable unsaid question lingering in the air.

“I did nothing wrong,” Nairus frowned.

His father raised a hand before moving towards the only door in the room that was set behind him. “I’ll let them in.”

Two men wearing simple shirts and pants walked in after his father greeted them. His father gave them a long stare before he walked out and closed the door behind him.

Privacy.

“Nairus Amberleaf?” One of them asked. They looked alike, except one had a mole on the side of his cheek; he was not the one that asked the question.

Nairus nodded.

“My name is Lennon Davidson, and my partner Charlton Hermanson, we work with the guardsman and the SI:7 for internal issues among the city. We were hoping you would give us a minute to ask you a few questions about what happened to you.”

Once again, Nairus nodded.

Lennon smiled, as his partner drew out a notepad and a pen. “We understand what happened was tragic for you, and we don’t want to bring up anything that’s unnecessary. Please, start off wherever you feel most comfortable.”

The line was clearly out of formality and politeness, not because he cared but because his job required some sense of empathy. He could see all that in the man’s dull look in his brown eyes.

Nairus took a deep breath and began. “I was attacked in my room while taking care of…” he stopped his memories flashing back to Mey and the boy and the stranger. The memory struck hard and unexpectedly and it took the breath out of him and welcomed a sharp pain in his mind. A memory. A name. Jacorek.

“Is everything okay?” Lennon asked, his voice held more concern and he was already motioning to his partner to move.

Nairus felt sick, like someone had struck him in the gut. Something was there. Something attached to that name. Darkness. A cave. A feeling of elation and sadness.

Nairus raised a hand and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I remembered something about the attack just now.”

Chartlon was quick to write in his notepad.

“I was attacked by a man with a sword. He came into the room, lockpicked or used magic, I’m not sure. I was tending to some plants when it happened. He grabbed my attention before stabbing me through the gut and left me against the wall. My memory is fuzzy after that.” He looked up to the detectives. “People came and went and I heard shouting and questions before waking up here.”

Lennon nodded his head a few times, a quick look going to his partner who surprisingly saw it as he nodded writing whatever it was that Nairus had said.

“Do you have any description of the man that attacked you?”

The blue glowing eyes, the streak black hair, the smile...

He..he...Nairus eyes closed tight from the flood of memories that struck him. A cave was now painted firmly in his mind, torch light down beyond his sight but flickering off the walls. Pain. He could feel pain, not at his stomach, but his ears and his face.

Nairus must have looked terrible, for, the detectives were quick to ask if he needed a doctor, and when he didn’t respond, faintly, Nairus registered one was leaving.

The pain. They tortured me. He… Jacorek…

Nairus closed his eyes to the world, hoping the pain and memories would fade. They didn’t, instead, it seemed to amplify them with a woman with red hair walking into frame with a overly bored look on her face.

“Where are they?” She asked.

“Nairus,” the elvish came smoothly, dragging him away from the woman. “Nairus!’ His father's voice was stronger, and as he opened his eyes saw his father’s wide amber glow filled with worry and concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I remember. A memory,” his voice hinged on panic. Something bad was supposed to happen when he remembered. That’s what he had been told.

His father paled and did not move for what felt like a long chilling moment. However, once his father collected himself, things were swift to move. His father reached out with his magic and Nairus felt it trail through him, reaching out, and seeking something.

Nothing. Nothing happened for a long heartbeat.

Confusion flickered on his father's face first. Something bad was supposed to happen, but it didn't. His father's eyes locked onto him for a moment. “We’re done here. Please,” his father spun his head towards the two detectives standing patiently a good distance away. “Come back another time.”

“O-of course,” one of them said. Nairus hadn’t caught which one, as his father watched them leave. The door locked with a soft click.

“I need a Priestess,” his father finally said.

The title sent a shiver down Nairus spine. “Is it needed?” he asked as his father was already moving away, robes trying to catch up to him.

“I need someone with knowledge about these things.”

The door locked a second time, leaving him in silence.

A deep silence, with nothing but white walls, paintings of what the outside might look like if there were windows, books lining a single bookshelf, and a desk cleaned off and organized.

Nairus laid back down, his body still shaking from memories and fear as he closed his eyes. When he did, tears streamed down his face. He remembered. His lips curled into a pained snarl. He remembered how he ended up with all the scars on his face and his ears cut to human length.

And that man, Jacorek, should have been dead. “What is going on?” He asked the empty room.

His father returned a while after. Long enough, that the pain of the memory was controllable. The tears had dried up, but his heart still felt weak and heavy.

The Priestess that walked in was her. Nylaria. Her dark purple hair was wrapped into a spiral bun, and her eyes glowed a silvery shine that had the mark of relief and motherly concern.

She smiled.

His frown deepened.

He remembered her walking up to the house, asking him if he would accompany her to the Broken Shore. Fragments of memories, he realized, there was more to that story.

“I heard you remember something,” her voice was soft and elegant and held none of the rash undertone he was so used to hearing in other females. “Do you remember why you're not supposed to remember anything beforehand?”

“No.” He said sharply, not having meant too. He collected himself with a quick breath. “No,” he repeated softly. “I just remember one thing.”

Nylaria sat down on the edge of the bed. “May I see? Your Father says he can’t sense it anymore.”

A moment’s confusion flickered in him. Sense what? And at the thought his eyes trailed upwards. His father was a stone statue in expression.

Nairus gave a light nod and she reached out and touched him gently on the arm.

The warm light of Elune’s magic sent a shiver through his whole body. It felt invasive, it felt unnatural.

A moment passed before she removed her hand, a moment of curiosity passing before standing and giving his father a quick smile. “There’s none there.” She said excitedly. “Which would make sense why his memories would return easily now.” She looked back to Nairus. “How? What happened?”

Nairus shook his head. “I--”

“I think it's best we accept what we have and forget about those minor details for now.” His father intervened. “Thank you.”

Momentarily Nylaria stiffened, standing her position as she deemed rightful higher than a druid. However, his father stayed as he was. Older and an elder compared to her, he too had his own right in things.

Evenly, they stood, before Nylaria shoulders relaxed and the rest of her body followed with a spin on her heels. “Very well. I’ll stick around a little longer if you need my experience,” she stressed, “Again.”

The door closed with a soft lock leaving them both momentarily to stare at the suddenly more empty room.

It was an oddly quick visit. He expected a little more conversation. Perhaps some questions he could get answered.

His father gave a heavy sigh before looking back, a smile crept on his lips, a handset on Nairus shoulder. “Rest for now. Those detectives will come back tomorrow. They still want to talk.” For a second his father hesitated before he pulled back. “I can’t stay much longer. I’ll see you once more before I leave.”

Nairus nodded as he watched his father walk slowly to the door, his fingers set into his long green beard. He was worried, but not concerned.

They were going to talk privately. About him, about what he was missing now. His head throbbed, but nothing came from it but a dull ache.

As the door shut, Nairus looked back at where his wound lay hidden behind the gown he was wearing. What had happened? Curse or death magic. His eyes sharpened as he remember saying those same words to Mey as she responded, “I know...I’m sorry.”

“A letter for you sir,” the medic gave a brief smile as he handed him the piece of paper. Nairus nodded his thanks as he took it. It felt good to be outside, feeling grass and dirt under his feet, and the smell of flowers and trees in the wind. The sun was bright and the sky was clear.

His father was a ways off, speaking to the detectives once more. True to there word, they had come back the next day.

Their gestures seemed to be one of annoyance, especially his father who had erected himself to his whole seven foot height.

Nairus let his gaze settle on the parchment. It was lightly worn, perhaps, having traveled a ways or traded several hands in the last several days before it arrived here. Honestly, he was too tired to think about all the little things.

His memories of the cave and the torture had drained most of his energy from day to day. Nylaria's own memories tickled his mind of the apartment she had visited him at beforehand. It was a good distraction from the trauma he relieved in a short minute the day before, and was beginning to feel the after effects of shock.

So far, no other memories cared to reveal themselves.

Another riddle that helped distract him was one of Jacorek. He had saved him in those caves, told him to run, and now the same man had stabbed him in the gut. They felt like different people. They even wore Different outfits, had different weapons, and different eyes.

Nairus ripped open the top of the letter.

It read as thus:

“Nairus,

I’ve wondered for the past few days about your recovery. Are you well? I wanted to thank you in person, not just for this but I can’t leave to check since your patient is awake. He’s making steady progress, even if it’s slow. I’m sure without your help, he’d be in a worse state.

I do hope you’ve made a full recovery. I never meant I’m sorry you were put in harm’s way because of my decision. If there’s anything I can do to help you, please let me know. The weapon you came in contact with is cursed. There’s something about it besides the death knight aspect that plays upon the minds of those who wield it. I worry that magic could do something to you from the wound. I’ve yet to learn how to undo such an influence, but maybe with time I can find a solution.

Please seek a priestess priest to double check for intrusive magics.

I’m sorry I can’t provide a return address. I expect it will take some time to get him back to his old self. He remembers nothing and doesn’t recognize me from a stranger, but neither did you at first. Perhaps he will come around. Even if not, I’m overjoyed that he’s alive and well.

Thank you, truly.

Mey”

Nairus felt his throat sting. Mey. Synric. The man in the bed was Synric. He closed his eyes tightly. Fragments. All his memories were. He knew Mey was more, knew he had done something before he had forgotten, yet, reading her words and seeing her name triggered nothing. Yet, the word patient and seeing Synric on the bed brought back flashes of the young man here and there. A name, a relation, feelings from those memories. The same apartment came to mind where Nylaria had been in his prior memory. Had that been a place he had lived before everything had happened?

He would have laughed if the conversation some distance away wasn’t growing more heated. Their voices rose, demanding that Nairus was an adult and he had his own right to deny him, not an overprotective parent.

He quieted those voices and read the letter again.

Slower the second time, Nairus keyed into certain phrases and the scrawled out words in black ink.

Movement shifted his gaze and thoughts back into the present. The detectives were heading their way.

He folded up the letter and slid it into his robe pocket.

It felt good to be wearing his own clothes again.

The one detective he recognized from before who had done all the questioning the day before had said his name.

In the backdrop, his father cursed in Darnassian. Neither of the humans seemed to flinch at the harder words, most likely, because they couldn’t understand.

“I understand your not feeling well or wanting to talk, you don’t need to talk or tell us anymore than you need. However, we want to capture the man that did this. If we have a serial killer or an assassin or the starting of either one, knowing anything will be key in finding him and saving any other lives he may take, or have taken. Please, reconsider.”

A soft smile came to Nairus lips. “The man was only after one thing. He warned me if I got in his way, he would defend himself. I do not think you will find any more bodies from him in the city.”

The detective straighten. A questionable flicker in his eyes. “Are you wanting to drop all charges from being attacked?”

Nairus gave a slow nod. “Yes, I think that would be best,” he said, shifting his attention over towards the lake. It's better this way. I’d have to explain about Mey, about Synric, and the whole situation.

The detective stood a little longer, but Nairus never looked back. When it finally struck that he wasn’t going to get anything else, the detective spun and made his way back to his partner, a sharp, “We’re done here,” passed.

A few brief moments in silence passed before his father sat down beside him by the fountain.

“You should give them the details, at some point.” He said.

Nairus took a deep breath. “You’re leaving today?” He looked over.

His father’s eyes harden at the dismissal. “Yes. You should come back with me. This city--”

Nairus shook his head and stood up. “I have a job here. My time in the military is another several years.”

His father scoffed, rising as well. “We’ll talk later,” he said and for a moment seemed to wait. Wait for what, Nairus didn’t really know, and so the moment passed and his father's eyes drifted downwards.

He gave a small nod before saying to let him know if he needed anything else and walked towards the Cathedral and back into the city.

Nairus watched. A brief amusement tickling. In elvish, talking later could mean years, and right now, that’s exactly what he needed.

#nairus #writing #long

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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Out Tonight (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Summary: The morning after your drunken karaoke hookup with Rafael Barba

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warnings: Mature content (no smut), very dubious consent due to alcohol, SVU-typical topics discussed

1,850 words

The light was what woke him up. Even behind his eyelids, the light was a gnawing pain that irritated him out of what had been an extremely heavy sleep. When he at last gave in to the inevitability of consciousness and opened his sluggish lids, the light seared into his retinas and stabbed him like a dagger through the optic nerve, making him hiss and pull the covers over his head.

In short, Rafael Barba awoke with a splitting hangover.

Groaning and shielding his eyes from the blaze with a palm cupped to his forehead, he peeked out of the covers and swiveled his head around. He was lying in a bed that was not his bed, in a room that was not his room. Based on the narrow size of it, the big screen TV at the center, and generic art on the walls, it was clearly a hotel room. The sun shone angrily in through the window, reflecting harshly off the windows of adjacent skyscrapers.

Something heavy and warm moved in the bed next to him, and made a low noise. At that moment, he realized there was an arm draped around his waist. His head throbbed painfully as his heart sped up.

You opened your eyes with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head, then propped yourself up on your elbow with a drowsy smile. “Morning, Rafael.”

He blinked at you, eyes wide and unbelievably pale green in the daylight, with his pupils contracted to dots. “Hello,” he greeted with bewilderment and impending panic that he haphazardly stuffed down inside a well-trained disguise of professional courtesy, though several of its seams were ripping already, only two syllables in.

“Last night was… something,” you murmured, eyes squinted into narrow slits. You were calm and pleasant, but there was a trace of hesitation in your voice, like you were nervous, or hiding something. It was enough to arouse his suspicions. You knew what was happening. You knew his name and weren’t surprised to find him in your bed, or yourself in this room.

“Where am I?” he said sternly, words short and clipped. “Who the hell are you?”

Your eyes opened wide at that, then scrunched closed again with a pained grunt that brought your hand to your face. You opened them again slowly, gradually adjusting to the light, and squinting at him in confusion you rasped, “What?!”

He was convinced of it now. He’d seen enough cases like this, taken enough witness testimony, to understand exactly what had happened to him. “You drugged me,” he growled. “You think you can get away with drugging an A.D.A.? Was this for some kind of… of blackmail?”

“Drugged you? What the fuck?” Your eyes filled up with confusion, hurt, and fear. You scrambled away toward the headboard, wincing. “Are you saying you don’t remember anything? No,” you shook your head, laughing nervously, “This… this is one of those weird pickup artist games so you don’t have to call me, right?” But there was no recognition in his eyes, only a cold, impersonal glare. Your hands flew to your mouth.

His resolution that you were some sort of predator faltered as he watched you panic, and you seemed so small and frail, and scared. It made no sense that he would wake up with no memory of last night, though. Rafael Barba was always in complete control of himself. He did not drink to excess—he rarely even got drunk—and he would never have gone home with a stranger.

As he collected the fragments of his thoughts, however, he began to shape a different story. The splitting headache and fuzziness in his mind was familiar—he recognized it from sophomore year at Harvard, and a party with the legacies who shared last names with wings of the library where he had been peer-pressured into drinking so much he blacked out. He ended up being blamed for the whole thing, while his wealthy “friends” didn’t get so much as a stern lecture. That day, he learned a valuable lesson about never letting his guard down. But a dim memory came back from the night before—he remembered being devastated by the result of a trial. He remembered nothing had been going right. And he remembered drinking.

If he was that drunk… if he couldn’t remember what he did…

He was stuck to the inside of his pants with dry semen. You had pulled away so that you were no longer under the blankets, and his chest constricted when he saw your shirt and bra torn open, and angry bruises and bite marks covering your neck all the way down to your breasts. Your face was drained of color, and you stared at him with terror when you spotted the direction of his gaze, swiftly closing your blouse. “Oh god,” he croaked. He had seen images just like this hundreds of time, submitted into evidence. He had heard this story a hundred times, too: a normally harmless man gets drunk and assaults someone, then later feigns innocence because he couldn’t remember the crime. Barba had put away men like that, with never an ounce of pity for their excuses. It wasn’t you. He felt nauseous. Blood pounded in his ears.

“What did I do?” His throat was so dry. He swallowed hard, and swallowed again, but the horrible dryness remained. “Oh god, what did I… Did I do anything inappropriate? Are you hurt? Oh god.” He blinked, glancing around the room to anchor himself to his surroundings. Big hotel flat-screen. Bathroom door. Tiny office desk with his Brioni suit jacket folded over it sloppily. He didn’t remember taking it off. “OK,” he breathed. “I need to establish a timeline. We need to determine if any… if any crimes were… Oh god.” He scrubbed his face with his palm and left his hand clamped over his mouth. He sexually assaulted someone and his life was over. He was one of the monsters he put away.

“What the fuck is happening?” you half-whispered, the corners of your lips pulling taut into a grimace as your hungover mind spun to catch up with the emotional whiplash of the last sixty seconds.

His eyes were glassy with unspilled tears, but he tried to smile comfortingly, like he might to a hesitant witness in a trial. “Look, I’m a lawyer. I… I know the detectives in the Special Victims Unit,” he said. You shot back a skeptical glance, and he realized that probably sounded like a veiled threat. “I can give you Sargent Benson’s number. They won’t go easy on me if you press charges, trust me. I’m sure some of them would be happy to handcuff me for how difficult I make their lives. Obviously, I’ll plead guilty to any charges, but first we need to convince the grand jury to indict...”

Your face had worked through several stages of confusion, cringing, and brow-raising, and finally your brow pinched together and your grimace broke into the dark, guilty grin of someone laughing at something that was probably too serious to laugh at.

“Rafael, you really...” you covered your eyes and shook your head, “You are really obsessed with proving you’re a rapist; I think your job is doing something to your brain. Maybe you need a vacation.”

His mind had been working a mile a minute to uncover the crime that would explain the mystery of his distressing circumstances, first accusing you, and then himself of being the perpetrator. But, he had been told more than once that he could be high-strung at times. Maybe there was no crime, legally speaking. At least, he was relieved he hadn’t done something awful. It was still unclear who you were, and why you felt comfortable taking advantage of someone who was severely impaired by alcohol. There was something else… something just out of reach in the smoky nebula of his memory.

“What do you know about my job?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“You told me about it last night!” You sighed heavily, and scooted closer to him. “Tranquilo, Rafael. Cálmate.” You gently pressed his shoulders as you searched his eyes. He flinched away from your touch, and you frowned. “You really don’t remember me? Jesus, you were drunker than I thought. It’s a good thing we didn’t fuck.”

“We didn’t?”

“No. You wanted to, but I told you you were too drunk!” You poked his chest in a playful I-told-you-so way, but when he returned only a strained glare, your hand dropped sheepishly to your side.

He was puzzled and disturbed. Most strangers mistook him for a gringuito, but you just told him to calm down in Spanish. You had obviously spoken at length. But he couldn’t remember. And there was something about you he couldn’t put his finger on, something that felt important. It probably wasn’t. Whenever he forgot something he meant to say, it grated at his brain for the longest time, and when he finally remembered, it was always something like, “I prefer Cheez Doodles over Cheetos.”

There was something in the way you were looking at him, almost mournfully that stirred up a lost feeling. He wondered what he had said to you last night—what kind of reckless flirt drunk-Barba had been to leave you so heartbroken this morning. He would have felt guiltier, but his head was being squeezed in a lead vice, and he was in no mood to tolerate fools. Maybe you hadn’t intended it, but you had taken advantage of a moment of weakness, and he was done with the whole sordid incident.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that…” He winced as he stood up from the bed, his underwear yanking on the pubic hair glued to it with dried cum.

“Please, stay and use the shower,” you offered, but it was more like a plea.

“Well, I certainly can’t go out like this,” he snipped. His shirt was wrinkled, and his slacks ruined, with the embarrassing pièce de résistance of the crispy, stiff area at his crotch which could not escape anyone’s notice. He could only imagine what his hair was doing.

Your eyes followed him as he bustled around the small room wearing a sour expression, checking the closet for, and gratefully finding, an ironing board. They kept following him until he closed the bathroom door behind him, and he was left alone with your helpless eyes still hanging in front of him in his imagination, and the strange way they made him feel. He had a million questions for you, but he was certain he did not want the answers.

It’s not as if this story could have had a happy ending, anyway. He was an A.D.A. with a career in the public eye, and this was already bordering on a scandal. Drunken hookups with party girls at bars never ended well. It was better to just forget.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba @caked-crusader @itsjustmyfantasyroom @thatesqcrush @dianilaws @permanentlydizzy @eclecticreader2020

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #Raúl Esparza #law and order svu #Barba x female reader #my writing #I am very certain the last 2 tags did not work...#they're accounts that only ever like posts & don't have any reblogs so I wonder if tumblr like... disapproves??

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crazyaboutto · 4 years

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Someone might have done this before, I didn’t check the tags thoroughly but whatever.

I only know Mephisto from a few places so I wasn’t very knowledgeable about him and decided to do research. I plan to do this for Agnes/Agatha Harkness and House of M. Feel free to DM me to talk about WandaVision theories.

Source: Marvel Wikia

What I’ll be talking about?

1. Who is Mephisto?

2. What are his powers?

3. What is his relationship to the characters in WandaVision in comics?

4. WandaVision Theory

The first 3 parts will be taken from Marvel Wikia and summarized.

1. Who is Mephisto?

Mephisto has many aliases such as The Devil, Satan and Lucifer. He is an extradimentional demon. He calls his realm “Hell” in order to exploit Earth human beings' belief in a single being of absolute evil. He is not the actual Satan but he allows himself to be called names that human beings give to their conceptions of devils. Mephisto is continually seeking to add more spirits of sentient beings to his realm by inducing living sentient beings to submit their wills to his. Mephisto apparently seeks primarily to enslave all human souls.

2. What are his powers?

Mephisto is an experienced and highly skilled liar and strategist. He is also a highly skilled sorcerer with near infinite knowledge of arcane and occult subjects.

His powers:

Superhuman Strength, Superhuman Speed, Superhuman Stamina, Superhuman Durability, Regenerative Healing Factor, Immortality, Penance Stare immunity, Medium Awareness, Netherworld Dimensional Power Tap.

§ Shapeshifting:Mephisto is more of a force than a physical being, one that can take any form that he wants. His "normal" appearance is that of male, red skinned humanoid with vampiric aspect and attire. However, Mephisto can appear in any form imaginable, having turning himself into animals, humans of any gender, or more commonly into other demonic forms, ranging from a stereotypical image of Satan to a giant reptilian monster.

§Mystical Deal:Through a Faustian bargain, Mephisto is able to fulfill almost any wish that someone wants in exchange for something that they have - usually their souls. Once the agreement is sealed, it is virtually impossible for the victim to escape compliance.

§ Ensnare Astral Bodies:Mephisto also possesses certain powers enabling him to capture and detain the astral bodies (sheaths of the soul) of recently deceased human beings. Mephisto does not have jurisdiction over all the souls of humanity's recently deceased. It is not yet known what the prerequisite conditions are for him to be able to manipulate a human soul, nor are the precise means by which he accomplishes the feat known. Apparently these conditions require that the human being in question willingly agree to submit to Mephisto's will. It is not known how a human being may free himself from bondage to Mephisto, nor whether Mephisto will forever retain control of the souls he has obtained. Nor is it known whether or not Mephisto "feeds" on the psychic energies of such souls as other demons do.

§Dimensional Entrapment:Apparently Mephisto can entrap a living human being within his realm through sheer physical force, even if the person did not submit his or her will to him.

§Reality Manipulation:Mephisto was able to create the realities Earth-7161 and Earth-71241 by creating a small alteration in the Earth-616 reality.

§Magical Manipulation:He can control magical energy for various effects, among which are the augmentation of his own physical strength, levitation, teleportation, the projection of mystical energy as force blasts, invisibility, matter manipulation, image projection, size transformation of his body or other objects or beings, the creation of temporary inter-dimensional apertures, and so on.

3. What is his relationship to the characters in WandaVision in comics?

Tommy and Billy Maximoff: Mephisto's soul was used by Wanda to give birth to the twins.Mephisto reabsorbed them, effectively ending their existence.

Wanda Maximoff: Mephisto absorbing the twins’ souls drove Wanda mad, resulting in her altering all reality.

Agatha Harkness: Agatha claimed that Scarlet Witch's children were actually fragments of the soul of Mephisto and wiped Wanda's memory of her children rather than fight to free the two from Mephisto when he reabsorbed the twins.

4. WandaVision Theory

So far: We have 6 episodes. The storyline gives off House of M vibes. Agnes seems to be Agatha Harkness from the comics which I’ll be talking about in another post. Dottie who is the key to the town only appeared in episodes 2 & 3 of the show. Director Tyler Hayward is pushing Wanda to defend herself.

THEORY:

Everything up to Wanda’s pregnancy was pushing Wanda to think about children despite no children was seen until episode 6. The whole talent show was “for the children” despite no children being present. Dottie was in charge of the talent show for the children. When Dottie was giving a speech about the talent show, she said “The Devil is the details” and Agnes said “It’s not the only place where he is”. She again said “For the children” during that speech.

Director Hayward first appeared in episode 4 and all he did was to antagonize Wanda. He is outside and he is giving Wanda every reason to stay inside The Hex. He is also painting her as the villain, trying to make others see her as the villain as well. He knew that Wanda would have deflected the bomb he sent into The Hex and that it would just anger her, making her less cooperative. He is also psychologically pressuring Wanda. You might say “He is the regular asshole” but what if he isn’t?

As mentioned in Powers, Mephisto can shapeshift into any form imaginable. Remember that on the people and their real life ID board, we didn’t see Dottie. What if Mephisto took the shape of a former soul he collected? That soul can be old and hence that is why Dottie wouldn’t be identified. The other minor characters were identified and they were shown. If Dottie was also identified then we would have seen her on the board too. Even if she is identified, there is no guarantee that Mephisto wouldn’t take her form. Dottie was the one who organized the event “for the children”, giving subtle message to Wanda for creating her own children. She even said “The Devil is the details” which is normal to say normally but not when the fans theorized Mephisto involvement after it was announced. Agnes, who is likely to be Agatha Harkness who mentored Wanda, said “It’s not the only place where he is”. I believe she, as an ancient being, knows about Mephisto and she subconsciously warned Wanda then. After what Wanda is supposed to do is done, Dottie doesn’t become a main character. Maybe that is the real Dottie in episode 5. Mephisto is done with her after Wanda got pregnant. After that, I think he started to impersonate Director Hayward. As mentioned above, everything Hayward did made Wanda to be more unstable and to want to stay in The Hex. I think Mephisto would want that and he is a perfect strategist. Maybe he didn’t shapeshift into those people but maybe they had a deal with him and he manipulated them into doing his bidding (See:Powers). Additionally, everything that happens inside The Hex makes Wanda stay inside.

In episode 6, Pietro calls “demon spawns” to Tommy and Billy. This isn’t even subtle. I think it is either subconscious warning that Wanda told herself via Pietro. Or it could be Pietro himself since he died once and maybe has knowledge that isn’t aware. Or it can be Mephisto being a little shit. He might have gotten Pietro’s soul when he died. In Powers, it is said that the conditions for him to entrap a recently deceased soul is unknown. He might have gotten Pietro’s soul when he died and now he is using Pietro to manipulate Wanda.

As mentioned in Powers, Mephisto can manipulate magic and reality. I think that is how Westview is affected. The reality inside The Hex is ever changing.

In episode 5, Norm played the pronoun game “Stop her” instead of saying “Stop Wanda”. It wouldn’t make a difference for Vision since he already thinks “she” is “Wanda”. What if that “she” is actually “Dottie”? Norm didn’t say her name because he doesn’t know it. He only knows she is the one doing him harm. This might be the other clue is that Dottie is indeed Mephisto himself.

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 5 years

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Cat-Blocked

Happy birthday ❤️ ❤️ @australet789 ❤️ ❤️ !!! I hope you’re going to like this little fic based on your Ladybug episode art!

A sincere thank you to the amazing @goblin-alchemist, who not only betaread this fic suggesting valuable adjustments, but also came up with the title and the ending!

Summary: Lila might try and try, but no matter what her newest plot to poison Marinette’s life is, Adrien will uncover it and come to his dear friend’s rescue.

AO3 / fanfiction.net

***

‘Oh, no! My lucky pen is missing!’ Lila lamented, her lower lip trembling and eyes already wet. ‘I can’t write the math test without my lucky pen!’

‘You can borrow one of mine!’ Rose chirped, viciously pink pencil-case at the ready.

‘Nooooo,’ the Italian girl wailed. ‘That was my favorite pen! Purple, my favorite color too.’

‘Maybe you left it somewhere?’ Nathaniel supplied. ‘When was the last time you had it on you?’

Lila pursed her lips in an exaggerated manner as she considered this question. ‘I had it when I went to ask Adrien about an equation I didn’t understand. He’s so wonderful at explaining things!’ she exclaimed.

‘You didn’t sit with us,’ Nino reminded her.

Adrien just nodded. He watched his classmate and latest modeling partner closely, trying to figure out in time, what she was up to.

‘That’s right!’ Lila snapped her fingers. ‘I sat in Marinette’s seat. She was running late, as usual.’ The girl sent their class president a condescending look. ‘It must be soooo hard for you to get here on time with all the tasks you have with your parents at the bakery!’ She continued with faux smile. ‘I guess some of us are lucky their parents don’t expect them to work!’

Marinette growled under her breath, but she left this hidden insult without any answer. Instead she pointed to her desk. ‘I don’t see your pen here, Lila. You must have left it somewhere else.’

Lila narrowed her eyes at the girl. ‘I’m sure I left it there. I remember I stood up when you came.’

‘No pen here, Lila,’ Alya rolled her eyes.

‘Can I check?’ The Italian girl fluttered her lashes innocently and headed for Marinette and Alya’s desk, despite the fact that it contained no pens whatsoever.

She stumbled over Marinette’s backpack, scattering all the contents on the floor.

Adrien caught a glimpse of purple as Lila opened her jacket and then he heard the clatter of a falling pen, just a bit later than the rest of Marinette’s things. He moved fast, his shoe covering the pen and kicking it deep under Nino’s seat. His seat buddy didn’t even blink as he stepped on the pen and moved it even further away, obscuring it from view for better measure. Good old Nino, he probably had no clue as to why Adrien took the pen, he just followed Adrien’s lead.

‘Oh,’ Lila sighed. ‘I’m okay. It’s nothing! I’m sorry Marinette, I stepped right into your backpack.’

‘It’s oka-’ Marinette started.

‘But look, what’s this?’ Lila gasped feeling the floor in the place where she dropped the pen just a moment earlier. ‘Isn’t it my-’

‘Lila, I found your pen!’ Nino exclaimed, turning around and bending to pick the pen that was now next to Nathaniel’s desk.

‘No, you didn’t!’ the girl snapped. ‘It’s right he-’

‘Look!’ Nathaniel took the offensive item from Nino’s fingers. ‘It’s your lucky pen!’ he called happily.

Lila looked to Marinette, then to Adrien and Nino. She pursed her lips. Her eyes flashed with rage, before her face morphed into a well practiced elation.

‘Oh, thank you, Nino! You saved my test!’ She cast the boy a pleasant smile before going back to her seat.

Adrien didn’t know any Italian, but he was pretty sure what Lila mumbled on the way was some extremely bad cursing.

***

‘I swear to you, I didn’t sleep a wink last night!’ Lila complained. ‘I basically moved to the bathroom.’

‘You poor thing,’ Mylene cooed. ‘Did you eat something bad?’

Lila fell silent for a moment, her gaze skipping over the audience. When she made sure Marinette was there, at the back of the crowd, she shook her head theatrically.

‘It’s not possible. I only had pastries from Dupain-Cheng’s bakery yesterday,’ she looked at her fingernails.

‘You did not!’ Marinette stood up. ‘I was manning the counter all afternoon and I didn’t see you.’

‘Ah, I was at a photoshoot all afternoon and we got the pastries on the set,’ Lila supplied innocently. ‘They tasted a little stale, but I thought since they’re from the best bakery in Paris-’

‘You must have eaten something else, Lila. Remember, there were no pastries at the set yesterday?’ Adrien put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder as he stood by her side. ‘Father forbids them, because they can easily stain the prototypes.’

‘But I-’ Lila started.

‘Besides, if there were any pastries from Dupain-Cheng’s patisserie,’ Adrien winked at Marinette, ‘they wouldn’t have lasted long in my presence,’ he patted his belly. ‘No Dupain-Cheng treat can go stale if I can help it.’

He pretended he didn’t see Lila’s murderous gaze. It wasn’t hard since his vision was momentarily obscured by a fresh, buttery croissant that Marinette just took out of her lunchbox and offered to him. She was a true friend, knowing what he liked.

***

‘It’s not here!’ Marinette cried. ‘I definitely put it in here yesterday!’ She nervously shuffled through the contents of her backpack, trying in vain to locate the art project that was due for the day.

‘Maybe you left it on your desk at home?’ Alya asked.

‘I swear I packed it yesterday, as soon as I finished attaching the rim. I used red silk, it creases terribly if not stored in the right manner.’ Marinette was now throwing everything out of the backpack, as if the huge project could somehow hide at the bottom. ‘You know how scatterbrained I am in the morning.’ She tipped the bag upside down and shook it, but only a few cookie crumbs fell out. ‘And this is half of our grade!’ She tugged at her hair.

Adrien helped Alya to stack Marinette’s books neatly on the desk. He risked a discreet look at the last row, where Lila was busying herself with her phone, seemingly not taking satisfaction in the drama happening at the front of the class.

‘Pssst, kid,’ he heard Plagg’s whisper from his pocket. ‘Look at her right hand.’

Adrien did as he was told. There was a fragment of silk wrapped around Lila’s ring finger, so slim, it wasn’t difficult to miss it if you weren’t looking for it. Red in color, could have been mistaken for a ribbon from afar, if it wasn’t for the ragged edge.

‘The rest is in the locker room dumpster,’ his kwami continued. ‘Wanna be the knight in shining armor?’

‘Thanks, Plagg,’ Adrien muttered under his breath.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ came a reply. ‘There’d better be cheese in this for me.’

‘You got it,’ the boy replied with the corner of his mouth.

‘Is this your project?’ A few minutes later he presented Marinette with a slightly crumpled, but still very impressive collage on French fashion of the first half of the 20th century. A bit of red silk was missing, but the work wasn’t destroyed.

The angry thump of fists wrapped in red silk from the last row was almost as satisfying as Marinette’s squeal of gratitude. But they both dimmed in comparison to the moment Marinette climbed to her toes and planted a hearty kiss on his cheek. And even Plagg’s snicker couldn’t ruin it for him. Marinette gave the best cheek kisses among his friends after all.

***

‘What do you mean by “it’s ruined”?’ Alya fixed her glasses as she inspected the contents of Marinette’s PE bag.

‘Ruined, as in it’s all holes,’ Marinette raised a pencil. At the other end dangled her PE t-shirt, or rather what was left of it.

The rest of the class gasped in unison. The garment was barely in one piece, larger and smaller holes visible in the material. The subtle flower pattern, Marinette’s trademark signature, was barely noticeable The gymnastic shorts were in no better condition.

Lila took the t-shirt in two fingers and tsked at the item with a sympathetic smile. ‘It looks like clothes moths,’ she noticed. ‘Look! A few of them are still there!’

‘Ew, ew, EEEEWW!’ The girls screeched.

Marinette dropped the bag and its contents to the floor.

‘I can’t go to classes in these,’ Marinette sniffed.

‘I’m sorry, Marinette!’ Lila patted her shoulder compassionately. ‘I had no idea you had pest trouble at the bakery.’

‘Yeah, she has pest trouble all right,’ Plagg commented for Adrien’s ears only.

‘Tell me about it,’ Adrien sighed. His fingers were already dancing over the screen of his phone.

Marinette sat at the bench, sniffing from time to time, while other girls tried to comfort her. Lila kept at the edge of her group, her fake sympathetic smile plastered to her face.

There was a knock on the door and Gorilla’s large head appeared in the crack. Adrien shot from his place and took the package his bodyguard brought at his request.

‘Here,’ Adrien passed it to Marinette. ‘I know it can’t replace the clothes you made yourself, but this is the best I could do on such a short notice.’

The girl watched him with the eyes of a deer caught in the headlights as Alya grabbed the package and emptied it on Marinette’s lap. The Ladyblogger whistled appreciatively.

‘A designer tank top, gym shorts, sweats and a hoodie? Nice job, Agreste,’ she praised.

All the other girls flocked to Marinette again to inspect the garments.

‘Gabriel brand!’ Rose exclaimed.

‘This is the newest collection. It’s not even in stores yet,’ Marinette whispered in an absent minded voice, as if the reality still hadn’t registered.

‘What?!’ Lila cried, then realized what she’d done. ‘I mean, that’s so amazing and so nice of you, Adrien.’

This time it wasn’t Adrien’s imagination that his name came from her lips as a hiss through clenched teeth. It wasn’t even a warning. It was a threat. To him or to Marinette, he couldn’t tell yet.

***

‘Well, I can’t prove anything,’ Marinette groaned, as she rubbed her ankle. ‘But I could have sworn I slipped on something on those stairs.’

Three pairs of eyes followed her line of sight to the very empty steps. Nino and Alya shrugged, ready to brush it off as yet another example of Marinette’s clumsiness. But Adrien thought he saw a fresh stain, a bit wet patch on a step, that might have been occupied by something slippery. And hadn’t he seen Lila ostentatiously devouring a banana at lunch table? He had lost his appetite in an instant.

‘Can you walk?’ Alya crouched next to her friend. ‘Classes start in a minute or so.’

Marinette gave her a brave little smile and pulled herself up against the railing. She winced when the hurt ankle took her weight, but she just clenched her teeth and set out for their next class, in something between a limp and a hop to save the aching leg, with Alya as her crutch substitute.

‘Oh, no, Marinette! You fell down the stairs?!’ Lila lamented. She pushed herself from the wall she’d been leaning on and jogged to the four of them. ‘You have to be more careful or you might seriously hurt yourself one day.’

Marinette grumbled something under her breath, as she hopped on, but Adrien saw that now not only her teeth, but also her fists were clenched.

‘I know a great orthopedist from when I got hurt saving Jagged’s kitten,’ the Italian girl babbled happily. ‘I could get you a visit if you want to.’

‘I thought you got tinnitus then?’ Nino tilted his head.

‘Yes, of course. But the jet blast was so powerful it knocked me off my feet. The doctors said I could have lost my leg,’ Lila fluttered her lashes and puckered her lips. ‘That orthopedist was a lifesaver!’ She proceeded to grab Adrien’s arm and smiled sweetly at him. ‘And if you ever need a visit, you just have to ask!’

Lila’s breath reeked of bananas making Adrien’s stomach twist into a tight knot. There was a very flat banana peel stuck in her purse, looking just like a peel might look like after someone slipped on it.

Adrien disengaged himself from Lila’s grip. ‘Hey, Marinette, wait!’ He called. ‘I don’t think you should use that leg now.’

Marinette and Alya stopped, their brows raised in confusion.

‘Let’s take you to the nurse’s office, shall we?’ he announced and then without further ado wrapped Marinette’s hands around his neck and lifted her princess style, just like he had done tens of times as Chat Noir. She was as light as a feather and despite her initial uneasiness, she relaxed in his arms pretty quickly.

‘Okay?’ he asked and she nodded. ‘Great, then off we go. Agreste Taxi at your service!’ He winked and took off to the aforementioned destination.

He didn’t fight the sly smirk upon hearing Lila’s angry thump behind him. He carried Marinette around the school for the rest of the day, even after her ankle got better. After all, what were good friends for?

***

Adrien would be lying if he’d said he didn’t like his self appointed role as Marinette’s protector. He kept close to his good friend ready to ruin every scheme and disprove every lie Lila had been cooking, and in those rare cases when he was too late, he did his best to take care of Marinette in a way that would not only be enjoyable, but also a subtle (or not) jab at their nemesis.

His role had a few unexpected advantages, like having to carry Marinette princess style on more than one occasion, or getting plenty of “thank you” croissants and quiches. The cheek kisses were also a nice bonus.

It’d been a week since Lila’s last attempt at sabotaging Marinette and it seemed like maybe she finally got the memo. Adrien reluctantly relaxed and he was slowly getting used to the fact that his protection services weren’t needed. Lila kept as far from Marinette as she could, not giving him even a shadow of a chance to come to the rescue. She settled for giving him the stink eye every now and then.

Yet his protective mode was still on. He still swept the corridors for potential dangers before his friend left the classroom. He still kept an eye on her locker and her backpack just in case someone wanted to tamper with them. He had to stop himself before giving Lila the “I’m watching you” treatment.

And now his *protect Marinette* senses were screaming at him *DANGER*DANGER* in big red letters. He left his post at Marinette’s side for just one lousy break and it turned out to be the opportunity Lila had been waiting for. Adrien saw her approaching Marinette at the other end of the corridor. He broke into sprint hoping he’d get there in time to stop any “accident” or “mishap” that Lila had in store.

‘Hey, Marinette! Can I-’ Lila started.

Adrien sucked in the air as he gasped for breath, wrapping himself around Marinette in a protective hug.

‘What the-,’ Marinette mumbled confused, from somewhere close to his chest. ‘Adrien?’

‘Did you just hiss at me?’ Lila asked accusingly.

‘Are you purring?’ Marinette whispered to his sternum.

He didn’t even know how to address those questions, so he looked around searching for rescue. What he didn’t take into consideration was that his sprint had attracted the attention of nearly everyone in the hall. Jaws dropped. Fingers pointed. Gasps were heard. A ripple of murmurs spread through school like wildfire through dry grass.

‘Dude,’ Nino breathed out, standing beside an equally shocked Alya, ‘just a friend?’

#adrinette #ml spoilers #ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #plagg #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #perdita writes #cat-blocked #australet789 #happy birthday Austra!!!#fluff #crack #revenge #just a friend

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cicada-bones · 4 years

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 33: Aftermath

Im sorry this one took me so long! Schoolwork and the election really wiped me out! But I hope you enjoy and as always - let me know what you think!

(also this moodboard will hopefully make sense a lil ways through this one - was super fun to make so I hope you like it)

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

With each step down the stone staircase, a slight clicking sounded from Rowan’s hip, the four stone collars jostling against each other as he walked. With each step he took away from Aelin, he felt something in his chest twisting. Something bright, and strong, and full of fire. Something new.

The carranam bond.

Rowan had never heard one described before, and he was taken aback by the strength of it, the potency. It was like a…tether. That connected him to her. An artifact of Aelin’s scent, like a key, buried in his chest.

It was strange, to be given another magical connection after so many centuries. He was used to the feel of the blood oath on his soul, the way it writhed in his veins. An acidic, curling smoke. The strength of it. The inevitability of it. Maeve always made sure that their oaths to her were born of pure submission.

That bond smothered his will, and dulled his senses. That bond had put him to sleep for two hundred years.

This bond was a jolt of electricity. An awakening.

The stone corridors were quiet all around him, but not with death. With healing. Rowan could sense the presences of his…cadre, as Aelin liked to call them, deeper in the fortress. Small flickers of darkness at the edges of his senses.

And with each of his steps closer to them, Rowan couldn’t help but think that this new bond was almost like how he had felt with Lyria. Couldn’t help but draw comparisons, and similarities.

Before her death, and the mating bond became an aching chasm in his chest, it had been a soft, warm presence just over his heart. A place where he could feel his mate close. Where he could sense her.

Rowan always felt when she was in pain, when she was in danger. And it gave him the vaguest sense of her location, almost like a scent trail.

This new bond, his carranam bond with Aelin, was strikingly like that. Unnervingly so.

Aelin hadn’t replaced Lyria. She hadn’t filled the hole the mating bond had left within him. But with this carranam bond…Rowan found that it was harder and harder to feel that hollow ache. To feel the place where his body remembered her loss.

And Rowan wasn’t exactly sure whether he was glad of it.

Rowan was hovering just before the entrance to the corridor where he had spent most of that morning – shoulder to shoulder with the demi-Fae, sweat dripping down his limbs, the air drenched in copper. Now, it was empty of all but the dead. The stones were slick with blood, the walls spattered with gore. Rowan could hardly walk without stepping on hands and toes and torsos, cold and hard and bulky in death.

But Rowan did so anyways – making his way through the pit of bodies to check for a smothered breath or faint heartbeat – any hint of life. He found none. Someone had clearly already gone through and collected the injured, then probably moved them to the dining hall, or the inner courtyard, to be attended to. Where the survivors had gone, Rowan did not yet know.

He stood and sighed, making to leave the corridor.

There was much to be done. The bodies would have to be burned. The gate to the tunnel was mangled, it would have to be reinforced – and soon, in case of a second attack. There were the injured to heal, and prisoners to organize.

And Rowan was utterly uninterested in all of it. All he wanted was to go back; to follow that tether to its source. To curl up beside Aelin and sleep for a century or more.

His feet were slow as they mounted the stairs, making for the sentry station where he knew he would be able to find Malakai. But before he made it very far, a familiar, bronze-skinned shape nearly barreled into him.

“Hey – oh, it’s you.” Fenrys, now in human form, stepped to the side and out of the way of Rowan’s path. Though he had fought as his wolf, the younger male was drenched in half-dried blood, his skin mottled with newly forming bruises. It didn’t matter that it was a different form – it was still you.

Rowan’s greeting was guarded. “Fenrys.”

“Rowan. Where’d you get off to? You missed almost all the fun!” Even with his hair matted together with someone else’s blood, the boy was practically chipper.

Rowan frowned, raising his eyebrows. Fun?

Fenrys waved his hands derisively. “You know what I mean. Did you leave to go help the princess? Is she alright?”

Though he was only asking from general curiosity, there was an anxiety in his tone that unsettled Rowan. He didn’t know what they wanted with Aelin, didn’t know if Maeve had sent them, couldn’t be sure of anything. Though he had fought with them for years almost beyond count, he didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them.

Rowan followed Fenrys’ question with one of his own. “What happened after I left? Where were the survivors taken?”

“Lorcan’s in charge. Last I saw, he was up on the battlements with an older demi-Fae who seemed to be a leader. There were forty or so soldiers who were still standing when their commanders fell, and they surrendered fairly painlessly. Lorcan had them taken to the dungeons to await questioning, but none of them seem particularly talkative.”

So Lorcan had taken charge. Something inside Rowan unfurled, a hidden tension flowing from his limbs. “How many dead?”

“Most survived. Seems that Adarlan was seeking to capture, not kill. I think last count was twelve, though that might increase before night falls.”

“Wounded?”

“Our side? Most. I think Gavriel is attending to them in the mess hall. There are a few dozen Adarlanian soldiers too – but I think they’re being kept separately.”

Rowan just nodded, satisfied. But before he could turn to depart, Fenrys’ hand shot out, stopping him.

“Wait – you never answered my question. Is the princess alright? We…we passed her on our way in and she…she didn’t look very good.”

Fenrys’ eyes were surprisingly earnest. But instead of compassion, Rowan felt a chill pass through him. Fenrys had seen Aelin. They all had, on their way into Mistward. For some reason, Rowan had never thought that through before – that in order to reach the fortress, his cadre must have passed by Aelin. And left her there.

“You saw her?”

Fenrys seemed to hesitate at the coldness in Rowan’s tone. “…Yes. She let us through that strange black smoke. It was phenomenal actually – she made this…this bridge. Of golden light. A tunnel, that gave us a way through. Otherwise we never would have been able to make it.”

There was awe on the young male’s face, wonder in his voice. But Rowan did not hear it. “You saw her, and you just left her there?”

Fenrys started, his brow furrowing. “Yes. What else could we have done?”

Rowan was fuming. You could have stayed. You could have helped. He wanted to rage at the male, to shout himself hoarse. But he kept himself in check.

“She will be fine in a few days.” And Rowan turned and left without another word.

He didn’t really expect Fenrys to understand. But Lorcan should have. And Gavriel definitely should have. Had they all just sailed past her?

Gavriel knew exactly what it was like when the people you were responsible for died under your command. Hadn’t Rowan tattooed enough names into the male’s skin by now? It was almost as though they died by your very hand. As if they died because of you. Because you didn’t think hard enough, or plan well enough.

They died because you weren’t good enough to save them.

Gavriel knew that. And he had nearly let Aelin die for them anyways. To die for him.

Rowan strode out through the gates and onto the yellowed grass, damp with rain. The ward stones towered before him, dark and silent and aged. Even with the death of the creatures, the magic that had fueled them was gone – utterly emptied.

Most likely, they would never spark again.

The loss of their magic, their majesty, weighed on Rowan just as those twelve deaths did. Deaths that he was responsible for. Somewhere, the logical part of his mind told him that there was nothing more he could have done, nothing more he could have sacrificed. But it was a very small part.

Rowan took another step forwards, to rest a hand on the black monoliths. Seeking to confirm with his hands what his eyes and ears were already telling him. But as he moved, the stone collars jostled once again, like a chorus of dull wind chimes.

Rowan lifted one off of his sword belt, examining it closely for the first time. They were perfectly round and utterly black – so dark that it was hard to see the flaws on the matte surface.

Even with the demons dead and gone, the fragments of stone held whispers of darkness about them. And it was more than just a memory of power, more than just a trace. It was almost as if those bodies had been little more than vehicles for the darkness, and it was the collars that held the real power.

Rowan placed the circle of stone carefully back on his belt, then shifted and flew out into the morning light, headed deep into the mountains.

He didn’t have time to make it all the way to the sea, not with Aelin sleeping in their rooms, unprotected, while Maeve’s warriors strode through Mistward. Not when Rowan couldn’t be sure of their motives, or their obligations.

Instead, he headed for the deepest, wildest place he could find with his winds and his hawk’s eyes.

Half an hour passed, and eventually he chanced upon a patch of evergreens hidden in the shadows between two massive peaks. Though it was approaching summer, snow still shone at their tops, the steadily rising sun marking the mountains a blinding white.

Rowan dove through the chill, passing between shelves of rock and soaring through narrow crevasses until the light dimmed, and became scarce, and mid-morning turned to dusky twilight.

The evergreens were undaunted however, monarchs rising up against the faces of stone to tower over the southern hills that lay below. Rowan flew to the base of a particularly gigantic pine, where he shifted in mid-air and landed on a platform of gnarled roots and discarded rusty pine needles.

Rowan breathed deep, then called his power up from within, pulling the last dregs of ice from the well in his chest. The magic came unwillingly, though with it he cast a blade of pure ice. Which he used to dig into the earth, tunneling deep into the nest of roots below.

Once the hole was at least eight feet deep, Rowan let the blade melt and fade into the dry earth. He carefully lifted each collar off his swordbelt and threw them into the deep, then filled the pit back up with hard-packed earth, replacing the bed of pine needles over the surface.

Rowan stood carefully, realizing for the first time that he had let his concentration slip. That he’d perhaps been too focused on the task before him, and not paid enough attention to his surroundings.

For as he turned to leave the hollow, a strange presence flitted at the edges of his senses.

Immediately, Rowan strengthened his shields and cast out his winds, seeking answers. The air did not give them to him. Not really.

The presence felt…different. Unexpected. But surprisingly, not unfamiliar.

It felt wild.

Then it clicked into place. The Little Folk.

Rowan took a hesitant step forwards, just as a pair of eyes peeked over a fallen log, then quickly fell from view. Rowan took another step. And another.

He wanted to speak, to say something. To tell them that the demon creatures were dead, that the wild reaches were safe once more. To tell them who had killed them. But for some reason, Rowan felt that they somehow already knew.

Rowan reached the log, expecting to find it empty. So he was unsurprised to find that the faeries were gone, their presence fading from the hollow. But he was startled by the fact that the log was not completely bare.

Atop the mossy surface rested two circles – crowns, Rowan realized – of red and white.

They were undeniably beautiful. Exquisitely crafted wreaths of the warmest flame and the coldest frost. Rowan’s hand stretched towards the red one first, recognizing spiky red maple leaves and orange petals from marigold flowers. There were strips of yellow from the brightest buttercups, and yet more colors from plants Rowan could not name. All collected and pieced together into this fiery masterpiece that barely resembled the plants they had once been.

Rowan was struck with the memory of the crown Aelin had once made for him, the crown of pure flames. This wreath was the perfect image of her magic.

He felt his eyes shift, searching out the other wreath. It was quieter, more understated, and yet still indisputably majestic. It was made of leaves of pure frost, wormwood and silver sage and needles of blue pine. And the spitting image of the circlet he had crafted for Aelin.

Rowan felt his brow furrowing, his gaze searching through the close-set tree boughs for any hint of movement, any indication that they were still there. Still watching.

For they had been. The Little Folk had been watching them for weeks.

And while Rowan was discomforted by this discovery, he felt no fear, no antagonism. These were gifts, not threats. A silent thanks.

And as Rowan held that crown of fire between his hands, it finally sank in. The demons were dead. They had won. Aelin had lived.

Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as he raised his head to face the darkness of the forest beyond. “Thank you,” Rowan said. “Thank you.”

···

The harsh stone of Mistward’s walls appeared through the thinning mist as Rowan dove towards the fortress. Now that the barrier-stones were forever silenced, he no longer had to pass through the front gate, and so could glide over the battlement wall and land directly on the stones of the interior courtyard.

With the knowledge that Lorcan had taken charge alongside Malakai, and that they had suffered minimal losses with the enemy forces already contained and subdued, Rowan had lost all interest in participating in the recovery and repairs. All he wanted was to go up to their rooms, bar the door, and drift off into the deepest sleep he had risked in weeks.

But the interior courtyard was far from the empty, silent place it usually was.

A temporary hospital had been set up under swathes of white canvas, where men were lying on cots and sitting on mats, blood pooling beneath bandages while hollowed eyes stared into air filled with the sounds of the dying.

Mistward hadn’t been hit hard, but Adarlan had been. And the wounded waiting to be helped numbered in the dozens.

Fenrys had told Rowan that the hospital had been set up in the dining hall. Otherwise, Rowan would have flown directly to his rooms, instead of risking passing by where he knew Gavriel would be waiting for him.

The male in question looked up just as Rowan entered. There was no avoiding him, no matter how much Rowan might wish to.

Gavriel was standing at the bedside of a young soldier in Adarlan’s colors, though they were hard to see through the pools of blood encrusting the fabric. But as Gavirel wasn’t holding bandage or needle and thread, Rowan assumed that the blood was not the soldier’s.

Gavriel’s brow furrowed as his eyes met Rowan’s, concern and – was that fear? – passing through his scent. But as usual, the male swiftly reigned in his emotions once more.

“Are you alright?”

The question felt loaded, though Rowan wasn’t sure if that was Gavriel’s intention. It didn’t really matter. Rowan didn’t have an answer to give him. So instead of speaking, Rowan just grunted, then moved to stand at the soldier’s other side. Silently offering his assistance.

Together, they reset the soldier’s broken leg, then used their combined magics to bind the fragments of bone and knit the skin and muscle back together. Despite everything, the two of them immediately fell back into a rhythm, into that shared dance of movement and magic and thought.

Soon, the man was whole once again. Gavriel took a wet cloth from the man’s bedside and used it to wipe his hands and face, then handed it over to Rowan, a silent thanks in his eyes. Rowan took it.

“Is Aelin going to be alright?”

A pause. “She’s resting.”

“She has grown these past weeks. Improved.”

Another grunt.

“Do you think it is enough?”

For the first time, Rowan looked directly into Gavriel’s eyes. Something passed between them. “I cannot keep her here forever.”

“No, you cannot.”

There almost seemed to be actual remorse in the male’s voice. Rowan wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his irritation in check for much longer. “Is that why then?”

“Why what?”

“Why you just left her there? Why you held me down when I tried to help her?”

Gavriel looked taken aback. “You think that I wanted the girl to die?”

“Give me an alternative.”

“She begged us to leave – to save you. I could not deny her her last wish.”

“Even when you knew that would not be what I wanted?” Rowan was very nearly shouting now. “Even after all these years of tattooing the names of the Fae you’ve lost on your own skin? You still don’t understand?”

“If you had seen her face, you would not have denied her either.” The quiet resolve on Gavriel’s face was enough to momentarily disarm Rowan. He changed tack. “What were those stone rings you carried before? I didn’t get a good look – “

“Does Maeve know that you’re here?” Rowan interrupted before the male could finish his question.

Gavriel hesitated, his eyes darkening. But not with anger, with…shame. “No. She did not know when we left. Though she must surely know by now.”

A small measure of sympathy washed through Rowan, working to melt the ice somewhat. Gavriel was loyal through and through. This betrayal had cut him.

“What happened? When – when you got my letters?”

Another pause. “I was alone. Fenrys and Connall were also in the capital, but I didn’t meet up with them until after. I don’t know how Lorcan and Vaughn decided, but they were still in the south – we met up with them near the southern mountain pass.” Gavriel’s eyes were almost boring into Rowan’s by this point, pinning him in place. “I did not say anything to anyone. I just left. But that doesn’t mean that you have nothing to worry about.”

The accusation in his tone was a painful reminder of what Rowan had been suppressing all morning. A reminder of what was waiting for them back in Doranelle. Who was waiting for all of them.

And whatever happened, it would be Rowans fault. Their pain, their punishment. Aelin’s pain – it all would be his fault. But he saw no other way.

Rowan took a slow step back, nodding at Gavriel. All of his anger towards the male had temporarily evaporated. “Thank – thank you.” He choked out. “For coming. For saving her.” Then he turned and left the courtyard, heading up the stairs to finally join Aelin in their bed.

···

Lorcan was nearly at his wits end.

He’d missed most of the actual fighting, instead babysitting Rowan to make sure that the bastard didn’t run off to his own death. So by the time he reached the tunnel where it appeared most of the battle had taken place, the twins had already taken care of almost everything. And now he was stuck organizing the repairs and recovery of this insignificant backwater fortress.

Bodies had to be collected and burned, sentries needed to be sent out to confirm that there were no other forces lying in wait for a second attack, workers needed to be organized to clear away the rubble and gore. He needed to ensure that the prisoners from Adarlan were well locked up, and had to arrange for them to be interrogated.

But all the while, as the morning passed into mid-day, Lorcan couldn’t get that image out of his head. The picture of his second, of Whitethorn for gods’ sake, screaming bloody murder as that princess fell into darkness. The look on his face when he wrenched himself free of their grip and ran to her. The image of them in each other’s arms, while the world burned to ash at her hand.

When they arrived, Lorcan had left her for dead. He’d dismissed her – just like that. The darkness surrounding those creatures was unlike anything he had ever felt before. The feel of it on his skin…Lorcan shivered. His powers did nothing against it.

Only fire could destroy them, and the princess had burned out. Or so he’d thought.

He’d tried to convince Whitethorn that the girl was dead, that there was nothing to be done. But the male refused to listen. And then, when she rose through the darkness – it was almost as though she brought the dawn with her.

That power…it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Apart from his queen, nothing could match the girl. Nothing and no one. Not even him.

He almost didn’t even blame Whitethorn for going after her.

But only a very small part.

Mostly, Lorcan felt…betrayed. There really was no other word for it. And betrayed for love, of all things.

Everything was about to change. Nothing would ever again be the same between them, or within his lieutenants. Never again would they rove through the countryside together, drinking and fighting and bedding women. Never again would Rowan be able to look at the horizon without some measure of longing in his eyes.

Rowan Whitethorn had fallen in love. After all these centuries, and with that foreign bitch of all people. Whether the bastard knew it or not, he had fallen in love once more. And it would probably break him all over again.

Lorcan cursed violently, and a sentry in the corner of the room jumped in fright.

He didn’t know where Rowan was at the moment, and frankly, he didn’t much care. Lorcan wasn’t sure he wanted to see him. Didn’t know what the hell they would say to each other.

Not that Rowan’s help wouldn’t be appreciated. The older demi-Fae male in charge of the fortress – Malakai, Lorcan thought his name was – wasn’t particularly helpful. Rowan was Lorcan’s second for good reason, and his other lieutenants were already occupied.

Fenrys and Connall were running forays into the perimeter, ensuring that there weren’t any more parties of soldiers lying in wait. Gavriel had been dispatched to help the small group of fighters who had skills in healing, and Vaughn was helping to repair the damage done to the escape tunnel. It had caved in in places, and the gates were badly damaged.

They were all here, doing their duty. Helping Rowan save all of these gods-damned ungrateful bastards. Risking their lives, and most definitely risking their liberty. All because of Rowan. And where was he? Absolutely nowhere to be found. Probably off with that fire-breathing bitch.

At some point, Connall returned with the information that there weren’t any soldiers within fifty miles of the fortress, and the caves that had served as their camp all these weeks were emptied.

Lorcan then sent the wolf to the healer’s compound to inform the head healer there that the threat had been dealt with, at which point the older demi-Fae commander spoke up and said that the healers had been moved into the mountains for safety, and Lorcan had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from snarling at the male.

Then Connall was gone, Fenrys was arranging for the traps in the woods to be taken apart, and the elderly demi-Fae had left with some mumbled excuse about following along behind Connall to meet up with someone to tell them the news. And Lorcan was alone. Which he found was actually not that much better than having company.

What did Rowan think was going to happen?

Did he think that Maeve would let them be together? That there was some happy future in store for them?

The second that that little girl made it through Doranelle’s gates, she would likely be trapped there forever. Maeve would never let a power like that slip through her fingers – and with the way the girl looked at Rowan? The princess was doomed.

Maeve would force the girl to swear the blood oath, one way or the other. Then, once the girl was hers, Maeve would undoubtedly keep her and Rowan separated as much as physically possible.

Because they were carranam, and together…together their power was more than anything Lorcan had ever seen. Even Maeve –

No, his queen was the most powerful being in all of existence. But still, the two of them together could prove a threat. And Maeve would not stand for it. So they must be kept apart.

Lorcan’s teeth slammed together. Why had that jackass allowed this to happen?

His team of commanders had been near-perfect. They worked together almost seamlessly, each with their own specialties. There was order, and structure. Even Fenrys, who was a right pain in the ass most of the time, fit within their hierarchy well.

But now…now it would all fall apart. Rowan loved that girl, and everything was about to change. He would defend her above all others, would protect her in the face of any threats, would never put her in any danger – even if it proved necessary in order to meet their objective.

That bastard’s cock was going to fuck everything up. And Lorcan didn’t see any way to stop it.

Then Vaughn reappeared, with the news that he had just gone down to the dungeons to check on the prisoners, and found them all dead in their cells. Poison.

Lorcan muttered a violent curse, and stood.

···

Gavriel was exhausted to his very bones. Night had now fallen, and they had lost three more men over the course of the afternoon. Three men whose deaths he had not been able to prevent.

Many more Adarlanian soldiers had died, but Gavriel couldn’t bring himself to much care about them. Particularly after they started bringing out the cyanide. Lorcan had told him that they had lost all of the prisoners in the cells, and to try his best to save the few soldiers from Adarlan who were still in his care.

Gavriel told the male not to get his hopes up.

He had spent the entire day at work, stuck in some courtyard, surrounded by the moans and complaints of broken men. There were a few demi-Fae sentries who had some healing magic, but far too soon their powers were exhausted, and Gavriel had to send them off to rest.

He couldn’t completely heal all of them – it would have surpassed his strength. But he ensured that no one died that wasn’t already marked to enter Hellas’ realm. Obviously, the soldiers’ goal had been to overwhelm and capture, rather than kill. The fortress was very lucky to have escaped with so little death.

Still, what he wouldn’t have given to have Rowan’s help. Or Lorcan’s. Or anyone’s, really. But they were all busy. And Gavriel would have rathered face a dragon in single combat than to go up to Rowan’s rooms and ask him to come down and help. Especially after their discussion those hours earlier.

It had been so strange – the cold male had felt almost…vulnerable. In a way that Gavriel had never seen before. And the look on his face when the barrier fell, and the princess was consumed by darkness…Gavriel would be haunted by that look for as long as he lived.

Just as he had known the second he saw the princess’s pleading, desperate, dying face before the ward-stones, begging them to go save Rowan, that she had loved him, in that moment he had known the same for Rowan. The prince loved that woman. And now there was nothing that any of them could do about it.

All they would be able to do was wait, and watch, and discover how it would play out.

But there was something, something more. The two of them were closer, more comfortable with each other. And they were obviously sleeping in the same bed. But there was also this strange hint, a trace, of the girl’s scent on Rowan. Mixed in with his.

Perhaps it was just the settling of that new bond between them – the carranam bond. For some reason that didn’t quite sit right with Gavriel.

Though that was another image it didn’t seem likely he would ever be able to erase from his mind. The way they looked together, staring into each other’s eyes while the entire world burned to ashes around them. The way their power felt as it rushed over his skin, an avalanche, a tsunami. The explosion of a star on the surface on the earth.

The fact that they were carranam changed everything. Now, if Aelin joined their ranks, it seemed unlikely that Rowan and the princess would be allowed within fifty feet of each other. Maeve disliked a threat almost as much as she hated betrayal. Or disloyalty.

Gavriel’s stomach turned over. He knew far too well what they would be facing upon their return to Doranelle. He forced his mind away from the unpleasant memories. He had made his choice, and he would stick by it. He had known the consequences when he decided to come.

And he would not regret it. The girl and Rowan had both lived. Even the majority of the demi-Fae had survived.

Though he would regret leaving Aelin alone at those gates for as long as he lived. Rowan was right, he should have stayed. No matter how worried he had been for his friend, the princess had needed him. And he had almost let her die for them.

His daughter. The words were an uncomfortable weight. Full of doubt. At first he had desperately shied away from them, aching for them not to be true, for them to be anything but. Now, he was less sure.

The princess was growing into a powerful female, a leader and magic user worthy of renown. Wouldn’t it be understandable to want to belong to her, in some small way? To want to be hers?

Shame joined the guilt writhing in his gut. It was a betrayal to his queen to want to belong to another. For it wasn’t really as a father that he wanted to belong to the princess, it was as a soldier. A lieutenant.

Aelin’s power was a beacon, and just like Rowan obviously was, Gavriel felt himself being drawn to her.

So, as Gavriel moved between the dozens of patients sleeping before him, searching for bandages to change and fevers to lessen, his thoughts kept whirling back to that essential, all-consuming question. What would happen when Rowan brought the princess to Doranelle? And would Rowan be able to survive another loss of this magnitude?

The night slowly passed into day, and just before dawn began to peek her head over the mountains, Lorcan appeared.

He was obviously trying to sneak out before the fortress woke up, now that the majority of Mistward was once again up and running as normal. And though Gavriel doubted the male would ever admit it to himself, to leave without having to see Rowan. Without having to deal with whatever it was that was shifting like quicksand beneath their feet.

Gavriel stood and walked over to meet Lorcan, who was now standing over by the entry gates, buckling on his swordbelt.

They stood in silence for a moment, but then, “What do you think will happen when we return? What are you going to say to her?”

Lorcan’s eyes narrowed, knowing immediately what Gavriel was getting at. “I’m going to tell her the truth of what happened. What else.”

Gavriel’s brows furrowed. “You know as well as I –”

“That changes nothing.”

“It changes everything, and you know it.”

“Just because Rowan went and fell for – ”

“He hasn’t been at peace for centuries, Lorcan. You would deny him that?”

“No. But there isn’t exactly anything that we can do to stop it. I would worry less about that selfish bastard, and more about your own skin, Gavriel. Rowan and that bitch are going to get what’s coming to them, and so are we.”

Gavriel only nodded. “I knew that when I decided to leave.”

Lorcan’s face darkened. “Tell Rowan I said goodbye. And that…that by the time he returns to Doranelle, I will have submitted my report. I can’t hide this from her – even if I wanted to.”

Gavriel nodded again, then clasped Lorcan’s arms in farewell. “I will meet you on the road, Commander.”

Lorcan’s gaze shifted slightly, an acknowledgement that he heard the silent words in Gavriel’s promise. I am coming too. I will not let you enter Doranelle alone.

But the male just jerked his head once, turned, and ran into the mist.

Dawn passed into morning, and Fenrys, Connall, and Vaughn all also departed, with similar words of farewell. But Gavriel lingered – wanting to see the girl one last time before he left, wanting to ask her the question that burned on his lips.

Before morning could give way to midday, an opportunity presented itself. Rowan and the princess were walking down through the fortress and the courtyard, heading out over the grounds. So Gavriel headed towards the back gate in order to intercept them.

Rowan was stony faced. Aelin was smiling.

I thought you’d be gone by now.” The accusation in Rowan’s icy voice was difficult to ignore.

“The twins and Vaughan left an hour ago, and Lorcan left at dawn. He said to tell you good-bye.”

Rowan only nodded absentmindedly, dismissing Lorcan’s message without much thought. “What do you want?”

Gavriel frowned, looking them both up and down. “Be careful when you face Maeve. We’ll have given our reports by then.”

Rowan didn’t react, though the princess started slightly. “Travel swiftly,” he said, an obvious dismissal, and continued walking past the gate and into the waiting mists. The princess, however, lingered.

Her eyes were cautious, and they studied him carefully. Then she said, softer than the mists brushing his cheeks, “Thank you.” Gavriel blinked, and he heard Rowan freeze suddenly at his back. “For the warning. And for hesitating that day.”

She extended a shaking hand towards him, wrapped in gauze and purple with bruises. Gavriel looked at it for a moment before shaking it gently in his own. Her warm golden eyes met his, and then all of sudden he was asking the question, the question on which his world now turned.

“…How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she replied, casually as anything, and Gavriel was releasing a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He didn’t know if it was from relief or sadness or surprise, though nevertheless, it was a release.

Aelin Galathynius was not, and could not ever be, his daughter. She was too young, by a number of years.

In order to fill the strange silence that had fallen, Gavriel made some comment about how that made her magic even more impressive. Aelin winked at him, then turned to follow Rowan into the trees.

Gavriel could feel the male’s confusion from a dozen feet away, but he didn’t much care. Rowan could be confused for a bit. He deserved as much for what he had put them all through, and what he was going to put them through, over these few weeks. And Gavriel was far too confused and conflicted himself to much care about the younger male’s feelings at the moment.

He was relieved at the news, but that worry was still there. He cared about the girl now, and that wasn’t something so easily undone. And it was not only because of his own burgeoning affection.

Gavriel couldn’t help but worry for the girl on Rowan’s behalf. Particularly because of the look Rowan was currently giving her – that flaming, all-consuming look. Like he was the moon, looking at his own personal sun. Knowing that soon, it would all come to an end.

So as the pair of them began to disappear into the trees, Gavriel murmured, “Good luck, Rowan.”

Then he shifted, and ran off to join his fellow warriors. To head for the capital, where Maeve was lying in wait.

To head for Doranelle.

…

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

…

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @booknerdproblems @queen-of-glass @westofmoon @morganofthewildfire @fangirlprincess09

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fanfoolishness · 5 years

Text

Comminuted (1/4)

SUF. Steven and Greg try to deal with the devastating revelations in “Growing Pains.” Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

(Comminuted: describing a skeletal fracture that breaks the bone into two or more pieces.)

***

The rest of the hospital visit was a blur. Later, Steven could only remember fragments, snapshots. It was probably better that way.

Fragment: Dr. Maheswaran asking if he was all right, asking if she had his permission to talk to Greg. Steven didn’t understand why she was bringing it up. Couldn’t she just tell his dad? Why did she need to ask? He mumbled yes. Signed a paper, no star over the i in Universe, just a scribble. He thanked her, he thought, he hoped.

Fragment: getting dressed alone in the exam room, hoping his clothes would hold him, hoping he could get home before any of this happened again. Maybe it won’t, he tried telling himself, but his skin flared pink at the thought, and it took what seemed an endless minute of breathing hard with his eyes closed before his gem quieted and he seemed human again.

Fragment: saying goodbye to Connie, ashamed of everything he’d done, every way he was messing up She hugged him for only a second before she asked if she should stay. His skin felt electrified near her, zipping and sparking, the jolts sinking into muscle and bone and gem. He was so glad she still cared about him. He was so agonized to be near her.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow. I’m sorry.” She kissed him on the top of his head (where the fractures are, he thought dazedly), and electricity arced through him. He shuddered, and she held him, and haltingly he asked her to go.

Fragment: Greg bundling him out of the hospital room, tugging his jacket straight over his shoulders, leading him out through the front lobby. “Where’d you park, kiddo?” Steven gesturing, Greg walking him step by step to his car. “I’ll drive. Sadie and Shep are dropping off the van for me.”

Fragment: the streets of Beach City passing by, washed out blurs and houses in stark relief, the window open, the wind on his face. His eyes watered. The wind pulled the tears away, dried them from his cheeks. Sadie Killer in the tape deck, his dad humming along, touching Steven’s shoulder at stoplights to check in.

At least somebody knows, he thought, and he tried to breathe deeply through the blurring tears.

The car stopped, and Steven blinked in surprise. “We’re home,” said Greg simply, giving him a small, worried smile. His eyes looked puffy, dark circles under them.

“Dad, are you okay?”

Greg went still. Then his smile bloomed, a bigger brighter thing, and he chuckled warmly. “Steven, don’t worry about me. I’m here for you.” Steven closed his eyes, guilt shifting into something gentler. Relief. Gratitude.

“If you say so,” he said jerkily, trying to remember how to be normal. They got out of the Dondai and Greg handed the keys back to Steven.

“Here ya go. Thanks for letting me take her for a spin again.”

“Heh. Right,” said Steven, the laugh forced. They both looked away.

They took the path to the house, but as they strode into view of the front windows, Steven remembered the last few miserable days with a burst of horror. “Oh, Dad — I’m sorry. The place is a mess. I just… I didn’t feel like cleaning up. You don’t have to come in --”

“Nice try, Steven,” said Greg, pushing the door open. The open doorway revealed a living room full of empty ice cream containers, discarded food packages, and the freezer door still on the floor in the kitchen where he’d dropped it. Everything inside was thawing. A puddle spilled out onto the kitchen floor, and with a stab he saw the red glow bracelet still nestled among expired Cookie Cats, its color dimming.

That sensation, now all too familiar. He shivered, hands flashing pink, a foot swelling up and shrinking back down just as quickly. He kicked off his shoes.

“Steven, it’s okay!” Greg said sharply. He took Steven by the elbow and led him to the couch, and Steven sagged against his father, letting him guide him. “Come on. Take a seat.”

Numbly Steven followed him, sitting down hard enough on the couch he felt the cushion deform under his enhanced weight. He took a deep breath, struggling. “I can’t do anything right,” he whispered. “I messed up the fridge -- I messed up the house -- I messed up things with Connie --”

Greg hugged him, hard. The pink beneath his skin faded, leaving something that looked like human hands again. He gulped, his breathing ragged.

“Listen to me,” said Greg, still holding him. Steven remembered when he was little, when a hug from his dad seemed to guard him against everything scary. The hug still felt good. But it was a thinner shield than it used to be.

“I know it feels like the end of the world,” Greg said softly. “But it’s okay to make mistakes. No one gets life right on the first try... I certainly didn’t. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Really?” His voice was small, quiet enough that Greg seemed to strain to hear him.

“It just makes you human, Schtu-ball.”

“Human,” Steven croaked. “Huh.” The word felt foreign, fuzzy, wrong in his mouth. Like it didn’t apply to him anymore.

“Yeah. You might be a Crystal Gem, but you’re also still a Universe.”

“DeMayo Universe,” said Steven tiredly, and this time he smiled. It was small and clumsy, but it was better than the tensed expression his face had seemed stuck in. He leaned against his dad, trying to focus on how heavy Greg’s arm was on his shoulders, how warm he was, how he was solid enough to lean on. It helped.

“See? Spoken like a true human,” said Greg. He gave Steven’s shoulders a squeeze, and lifted his arm away. “Now... you need to rest. Things have been really hard for you, and I need you to take it easy. Are you hungry?”

“I dunno,” said Steven, trying to think of when the last time he had eaten was. His face burned, remembering ice cream spilled on the floor.

“Well, let me know when you are, I’ll make something. And then I’ll just do a little tidying up in the meantime. No big deal. Want me to bring the TV down here? We can hang.”

“Don’t go up there!” Steven pleaded. “I’m sorry, it’s such a mess --”

Greg swallowed, looking Steven in the eyes. “There’s nothing up there that could make me think less of you, Steven. Let me give you a hand.”

Steven hesitated. If his dad insisted… “Okay. But let me carry the TV for you. It’s really heavy.”

“Deal.”

They walked up the stairs together, Steven’s stomach twisting. If Greg was disappointed in him for the mess he’d left, he didn’t show it. He just cheerfully gathered some of Steven’s movie collection while Steven unplugged the TV and carried it downstairs. He set it up on the coffee table while Greg laid out the videos.

“Anything sound good in particular? We can put something on while I clean up a little. There’s always Dogcopter --”

Steven winced, remembering what he’d watched that morning. Everyone’s getting married but me! It sounded so childish, looking back. What had he been thinking? Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again. He was getting sick of them.

“No, I don’t feel like Dogcopter,” he managed. “Maybe Koala Princess. It’s been a while.” He rummaged in the tapes and DVDs until he found a season of Koala Princess. He never did wind up giving it back to Ronaldo. He loaded it up and it sparkled cheerfully from the screen in pink and sparkles and giggles. Fine.

Steven pulled up his legs and curled up on the couch. He crossed his arms over his middle and rested his head on a pillow, burrowing into the couch cushions. He was almost comfortable, like that.

“Steven?” Greg asked, but he’d already fallen asleep.

#steven universe future #suf #steven universe #greg universe #growing pains #angst #fanfoolishness' steven universe fic #fanfoolishness steven universe fic

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nomunamuinmybrain · 4 years

Text

Bitter 6

Finally! It took me so long to get it together and finish this chapter. A lot has happened in my life since I last posted but most importantly I graduated from university. Now that I have all the time in the world I want to give all my attention to writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope you are all safe and healthy given the situation with the pandemic.

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Summary: Sometimes our thoughts get the best of us. Sometimes depression gets the best of all of us. Too oblivious to realize that we are surrounded with love. This is a story about learning to receive love, learning that you deserve love. A fun group of friends and their lives as they gradually change and grow. Sometimes bitter other times sweet much like chocolate such is life.

FLUFF WITH A SPRINKLE (or so) of smut/Slow pace

words: 1.7k

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Chapter 6

A knot forming in my belly, the sensation stretching to my heated mound forcing my thighs to rub in frustration. My hand slithers from my aching breasts to my slit, I can’t believe how wet I got just thinking about him. Next thing I know, the other side of the bed sinks under his weight as he makes his way over me. I am not sure how he got here but I don’t care. I can feel his scent, heavy and sweet, making me dizzy. His hands take over from mine, teasing and touching me. I want him to taste me everywhere. Devour every inch of my being with his sinful mouth, marking me as his. It’s as if he is in my head, knowing my every thought, every desire. My hands pinned above me held by his hand.

No longer thinking reasons to resist this, I completely surrender to his touch. My back arches wanting even more, he is everywhere, I breathe him in and in my utterly intoxicated state that’s when I hear it, beeping loud in my ears, my alarm clock. I knew this seemed too good to be a fragment of reality. Grunting noises escape me while I roll around trying to mute the source. The boys must have gotten up earlier or maybe they left the room right after I fell asleep, making sure I get some rest since they know how stressed I was about this whole coffee meet cute and that’s when I felt it. A strange flutter in my lower belly, a tingling but it was nothing of anxiety, it was pure excitement. I jump off the bed to get ready and after a much appreciated pep talk from the guys I was already out the door and on my way to the coffee shop. Namjoon was sweet enough to text me good morning and ask for my order beforehand. We lock eyes as I am crossing the street and I am positive his smile is outshining the sun, thankfully I did not faint in the middle of the street. Deep breath.

“Here you go. Iced latte, medium, double shot espresso with soy milk and one pump of caramel.”

“Sorry for making you memorize the whole thing. I’m a bit particular with what I like. Especially coffee.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, I’m no better. Iced Americano, blonde roast, extra ice, extra shot with foam.”

“Are we sure the barista didn’t spit in these cause I think I would if I had to make this order.” My silly remark made him laugh and the flutter in my belly grew stronger.

We started walking, heading towards the park. Conversation with him was smooth, effortless, he seemed to be as invested as I was which was refreshing cause for once I felt like I wasn’t blabbering someone to boredom and every time I took my turn to say anything he would look at me. He gingerly brushed his fingers against mine, weaving them with mine, brushing his thumb softly. I guess for the first time I felt interesting to someone other than Hoseok and Tae. There was nothing we didn’t touch on, from family stuff to career and childhood and lost dreams, there wasn’t a topic off the table. When we got to the unavoidable point of discussing relationships and experiences of that kind I tensed up a bit and unfortunately he picked up on that.

“It’s okay if this is too much for you, we don’t have to…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s better to be upfront with things like this.”

“I agree. Took me a while to come to terms with confronting people and situations.”

“Well, I’m in the same boat you know. I don’t have much experience with dating and I’ve never even been in a relationship. My insecurities plus my anxiety and depression haven’t, how should I put this, they didn’t leave any space for that stuff. Working on my relationship with myself and my mental health seemed more important. Also I never wanted to burden anyone with my issues, it wouldn’t be fair. Society has us believing that through another person we can finally feel whole but, well, it’s nothing but a sugar coated pill. Building a strong and healthy relationship with yourself is a blessing on the long run. To the eyes of others it might seem like I’m behind on that stuff but it doesn’t faze me as much anymore.”

“For the record you are not behind on anything, that’s bullshit. You made your wellbeing a priority and that is admirable to say the least. My last relationship has left me with so much trauma it left me frozen, unable to put myself out there to meet someone else. I wouldn’t even have approached you if it wasn’t for my friends pushing me, I feared that I was damaged goods, sort to say.”

I halt my step, turned to look at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not. I hope you know that you’re not.”

“I know. Now, I know.” His hand cupped my check and I could feel the redness spread as I leaned into his caress. “I hope you know that too.” he continued.

He leaned in, his breath fanning warmth against me, he looked in my eyes, my lips and then back into my eyes, longingly. His plump lips parted letting out a sigh. “I- I really want to kiss you.”

I drew in a sharp breath and answered in a small voice. “Me too.”

His kiss was deep, intoxicating and somewhat controlled cause let’s face it we we’re in the middle of a park. A satisfying grunt escaped me and he did something that I can only describe as a low growl, it was sexy and I could feel the tingling intensify. With both hands on my face, his thumbs tracing patterns on my cheeks, he withdrew his plush lips to lovingly nudge my nose with his.

“I’m so glad we can be together in this moment. Wait, no, that sounds weird. What I meant, what I’m trying to say…”

I take the lead to put him out of his misery. He looked adorable fumbling for the right words.

“Namjoon relax. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

The rest of the walk we joked around and I honestly haven’t let go with another person so soon, he has a way, a warmth that just makes me feel comfortable and most definitely desired and appreciated. Before we parted we set another date for Sunday at the movies and for the first time in forever I felt excited for something. Once we got to my building we kissed one more time and even though I told him to go he waited to see me go up which I wouldn’t have done given the situation I had to witness. The door was open and the apartment was full of people. Squeezing my way in I browse for Hobi and once I spot him in the kitchen I make my way to him and grab him from the arm.

“What’s all this?!”

“We are pregaming before we get to Jungkookie’s party. It’s a last minute situation and I offered to help. You do remember we have Jungkook’s thing today, right?”

“It’s 15:46! And yes, I do remember. Isn’t it a little early for pregaming anyway?”

“Um, not when you have a bunch of art hippies. It’s called a brunch pregame or something like that, who cares. Pancake?” he stuffed it in my mouth before I had a chance to answer. Tae jumped and hugged me from behind, most definitely tipsy, playing with my curls.

“How was coffee with dream man Kim Namjoon?” he asked

“She’ll tell us later when we are not in a sea of strangers.”

“In a word, perfect. I’ll head to my room and get ready.”

In the sanctuary of my room I drop my phone on the desk and head to the shower. A much needed scorching hot shower later and with the date replaying in my head, I sit on my desk to do my makeup. It’s already 19:40 by the time I’m finished and the noise has died down assumingly because everyone has left. I wasn’t all that excited about being among people tonight but I would never skip any of Jungkook and Andy’s parties. I think it’s a new sold out show that we’re celebrating but who cares really it’s just going to end up crazy. Jungkook notoriety for making each meetup an unforgettable event is unbeatable. After last time’s paint war debacle I opted for jeans to be as comfortable as possible.

Half an hour later we’re already parked outside of Jungkook’s house and then Hobi locks us in. Tae was the first one to give him the stank eye and question the sanity of his action.

“What the hell?”

“Tae, I am not gonna make the party if y/n over here doesn’t give us the details of this mornings event. I might actually eat my own hand.”

“Okay, okay, but I’ll fast forward a bit because I don’t want to drag this on. I had a wonderful time with him, he is so sweet and considerate, we talked about everything and anything. Also, we kissed and I cannot wait to go on another date.”

Hobi and Tae couldn’t hide their happiness, so prominent in their expression. They both jumped me to give me the tightest hug possible.

“Baby girl we’re so happy for you.”

“Let’s break this up now and get going Jungkook is waving from the door.”

We get to the door, Jungkook waiting for us, arms open, cigar hanging from his mouth.

“You’re into smoking now?” Tae asked

Much to our surprise he bit down to reveal the molten caramel center. Of course its made of chocolate, he’s a candy nut. We’re all ushered inside, everyone’s scattered here and there in the large common area having conversation over the latest pieces acquired in his personal collection. Among new faces and a few familiar ones I spot a face my memory could never erase, he looks up at the same time, eyes locking with mine and shoots me a wink.

My old crush.

The ever so charming, Kim Seokjin.

#bts #btsfic #bts fanfction #bts college au #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #seokjin #bts seokjin #bts hoseok #taehyung #jungkook #thekimlinenet #hyunglinenetwork

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rune-writes · 3 years

Text

I'll Come Visit

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 2: Promise

Word Count: 2344

Rating: G

Summary: All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises: promises of a date, to see the sky, and to come visit after he returns from Nibelheim.

Chapter 2 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises. The first was the promise of a date, the first time he met her when he dropped out of the sky and onto her flowerbed. The second was to show her the sky, because it wasn’t as scary as she thought, and he wanted her to see it. Then he bought her a ribbon and said they should make fun, little promises for when they next met.

“For example, when we meet, you always have to dress in pink.”

Aerith giggled and said that was silly, and it was, but it’d be fun. So she nodded and said okay and wondered what kind of pink dress she had that she could wear.

Then just before he left for Nibelheim, they went to the Sector 6 playground to sell flowers. Operation: Midgar Full of Flowers, Wallet Full of Money seemed to have a good start. The blooms were a big hit. One woman wished she could see them grow all around the slums.

“Yeah, that’s me and Aerith’s dream,” Zack said. “Not just the slums, either. We want to fill the whole of Midgar with flowers!”

Only a dream then, one he hoped would come true once he returned to Midgar, when he could finally take her to the city above and sell flowers under the sky together.

***

Zack sighed at the heavens above as he lay on his back. Thin wisps of cotton-soft clouds drifted past; though, did anyone really know whether clouds were cotton-soft? An age-old imagery that originated from how it looked from the ground, made by people who had too much time on their hands with too little thoughts in their minds.

Zack had too much time on his hands now. With Sephiroth having locked himself in the mansion’s library and still no lead on their investigation, there had been nothing to do but check on the reactor every day. Everything stayed the same. The monsters still slept in their pods, no more reactor malfunctioning, no more signs of Genesis—or any other intruders for that matter.

Cloud would grab any chance he could get to accompany Zack. Probably to escape the town and its people. Probably to be near their ebony-haired guide. He couldn’t blame the guy, and he had no intention to interfere, but sometimes, Zack would look at his stubborn younger friend and wish Cloud would let loose and show them who he really was. Not a SOLDIER, but still a proud member of Shinra’s infantrymen. They’d understand.

When the time came to return to town, he let the two kids go on ahead, saying he wanted to explore more of the mountain. Tifa offered to come with him, but Zack refused. It was still light out. If he’d gotten lost, his SOLDIER pride would be at stake.

Zack had expected a chuckle at the very least, but his guide only stared at him and said, “Okay.” Then she looked at the grunt and nodded her head down the mountain path. “Shall we, then?”

Grunt Cloud jerked, and for a fraction of a second, his wild, panicked eyes met Zack’s through his helmet visor. Zack waited until Tifa had turned and walked away before he slapped Cloud on the back and whispered, “You got this.”

“I got this.” A self-reassuring nod; Cloud gripped his rifle tighter before following Tifa down the mountain. They walked with a little distance between them, but never too far apart. Zack watched, a little grin playing across his lips.

He’d set off in another direction then: a greener, more life-abundant direction; a contrast to the barren, jagged mountain he’d left behind. He’d found the clearing shortly after, with trees on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It overlooked the Nibel plains and the small town below with the clear blue sky stretching far into the horizon.

Fragments of a cloud broke away into little dots, collecting in places that, somehow, reminded him of the yellow blossoms he’d find growing under the shades of a dilapidated church. Thoughts of the blossoms led to thoughts of the flower girl, and Zack couldn’t help but draw another long breath.

It’d been a week since he arrived in Nibelheim, longer still since he last saw Aerith. The closest interaction he'd gotten was the phone call mere days after reaching the mountain village. His PHS had rung when he’d been about to go to the mansion, and it had taken him by surprise when her voice came out of the receiver. But he’d been too busy then, so he’d told her that he’d call later.

“No, no, you don’t have to.” There had been a slight drop to her tone.

He'd pressed his lips together. “Okay, then I’ll come visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

Zack hadn't missed the momentary pause or the wistful sigh, hadn't forgotten her downcast eyes when he told her he would leave Midgar for a job. There had been nothing else he could say but: “I’ll see you, I promise.” He could almost see her smile as he hung up, hoping it had been enough until he returned to her side.

The drifting clouds offered a brief respite from the sun's harsh glare. Summer had long since gone and autumn was well on its way, but Zack still felt hot. Hot and restless and sweaty and wishing he was back under the cover of the church, where a ray of pleasant sunlight slanted in through the broken rooftop right onto her flowerbed. He’d doze on her lap, and Aerith would weave a flower crown to put around his head, and when he opened his eyes, he would see the brightest smile he had ever seen.

Zack reached for his PHS in his pocket. He had half a mind to go to his mails before he realized Aerith didn’t have a PHS. She’d borrowed Tseng’s when she called him before. Zack didn't want to call Tseng. The last time he did, the Turk had chuckled and said that he was at work, that he had one of his men watching her and that she was safe. He would, however, send her Zack’s regards the next time he saw her. Zack's mouth twitched at the memory.

What if he called her house? Elmyra probably wouldn't mind. The last time he met her, she had acted like he was already part of the family. It made him smile and miss her homemade stew, miss the warmth of the kitchen and the vibrant colors in her garden, miss that motherly touch.

But as good as the idea sounded, it was still daylight and Aerith was probably not home. He stared at the open mail draft on his PHS screen, then typed in Kunsel's name.

‘What are you doing?’

The reply came shortly after: ‘If you resorted to mail me in the middle of a mission, I can only imagine how bored you must be feeling right now. So let me tell you some good news, friend. I visited that church your Aerith frequented and I gotta say, she is such a lively fella. You have no idea all the little details she’d asked me of you.’

Zack jumped, glaring into his PHS screen as those last few words hammered their way into his head. He dialed Kunsel’s number. Kunsel immediately picked up.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

On the other side of the line, Kunsel cackled—a shoulder-shaking, back-bending, stomach-hurting cackle. “Gods, I can’t believe you fell for that one.”

Zack blinked, too mortified to catch up with the joke.

“I’m on a mission, if you remember—or maybe you don’t. Different from the one when you left for Nibelheim. With our Firsts out on a mission on the other side of the Planet, it seems the top brass has decided to have the rest of us—meaning us, Second-Class—take the lead on the remaining jobs. So I’ve been away, again. Far away from your lovely girl. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Another blink. Right.

“How’s the job anyway?”

A short pause, and maybe it was the easy-going tone of his voice that made Zack's tongue loosen up and tell Kunsel about the current state of his investigation, the current state of Sephiroth, the current state of his restlessness. Then at the end of it, Kunsel chuckled.

“Even in the middle of a mission, you still got time to worry about your girl.” Zack heard a scoff, soft and amused. “She’s fine. Aren’t the Turks watching her?”

“They are…” But even knowing that, there was a disquiet in his heart that he couldn’t quite figure where it was coming from.

“Well, if it’s any help at all, I promised to check up on her, didn’t I? Once I get back from my assignment, I’ll see how she is. Does that ease you?”

It did, even if only a little.

“So just focus on your assignment right now and make sure you get your ass back in Midgar. Quick.” Then he added, “You know I have a whole folder of you sneezing out snot, right?”

“Kuns—!”

The line was cut. The last thing Zack heard was his friend's laughter. It still echoed even when Zack had put his PHS down and stared at the screen, when he laid back on the sunny grass and covered his eyes with an arm. Maybe it was a bad idea to have Kunsel check on Aerith. Who knew what the guy would show her? All the embarrassing details of Zack's life! But Kunsel was the only person Zack could trust in SOLDIER right now…

Zack let out another quiet exhale. He lifted his arm. The clouds drifting past looked uncannily like the girl with the brightest smile.

***

He called a little after dusk. Zack was alone in his room; Sephiroth was still not back; Cloud and the other grunt stood watch somewhere. A few moments passed with only the dial tone filling his ears. And then:

“Hello?”

The smile came unbidden. Like a dam about to burst, his lips wavered at the intensity of the emotions overcoming him—overwhelming him.

“Aerith?”

“Zack?” Her surprise was almost palpable. He could imagine her wide-eyed stare as she stood beneath the warm lights of her home. “This is a surprise. You're not busy?”

“Aw, don’t you miss me?”

She giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. “Silly.”

They talked about everything and anything: what she was doing, how her days had been. "Same old, same old," she said. Tending to her flowers, running errands around the slum, then just as she’d headed for the church, the Leaf House kids had crowded around her and asked where Zack was.

Zack chuckled. “And what’d you tell them?”

“That Zack is on a very important job right now, but he’ll be back very soon and give everyone presents.” Her laugh made him smile, and he imagined her sitting next to the pots and vases, swaying her feet and twirling her hair. He closed his eyes, committing it to memory.

“Hey, Aerith.”

“Yeah?”

When he made that promise to visit, Zack had thought they would finish their mission soon and he'd be back by Aerith's side before she knew it. But it had been a week since then, and he was still stuck in a small mountain town with nothing to do but look for missing persons who refused to be found and wait on a stubborn comrade who refused to leave.

“Think I’d have to take a rain check on that promise. I don’t think I can come back soon.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Okay.” Then, because maybe she’d noticed the hesitancy in his voice: “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing wrong.” He was quick to answer, quick to ease her worry, even as his mind went to the mansion sitting on the town's outskirts, where Sephiroth was still perusing the many thick volumes stored in the basement. The last time Zack had checked on him, he'd been unaware of Zack’s presence. It’d been like talking to a statue, if statues could walk and talk. Ceaseless mutterings; unending strides; then at times, Sephiroth would stop and look up, and Zack would sigh and thought, finally! Because the meal the townspeople had prepared still lay untouched on the table, and all of Zack’s attempts to tell him to rest had flown over his head. But like a man possessed, Sephiroth had only walked past without truly seeing him, then discarded the book in favor of another.

“Zack?”

Zack blinked, then said again, “Nothing’s wrong.” It was less convincing. “Anyway,” he went on, brightening his voice. “Did you really tell the kids I’d bring them presents?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice too chirpy, as though she’d noticed his unease and opted to play along with his act. “Well, you have to give them something , after all their efforts to learn your combat moves. They’re really taking this Protection Squad business seriously, you know.” She giggled, and he chuckled too.

The kids had been hounding him every time he took the trip beneath the plate. What was supposed to be a quality time with Aerith always ended up as sword-fighting lessons with a bunch of children. Not that he minded them. The more time Zack spent with them, the more endearing they all seemed to him.

“Then I’d better get them something really good.” He wondered if the store next door sold souvenirs. He could ask Cloud for advice. Or Tifa. “But don’t tell them yet. It’ll be a surprise.”

He could feel her smile as she said, “Sure thing.” In the distance, he heard Elmyra’s call. Aerith had to hang up. “Do you think we can talk again tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll call you. Or you can call me too, if you want.”

“Really? Then maybe I’ll do that.”

Zack’s lips parted into the slightest grin. “I’ll be here.” Another promise. Her goodbye was the last thing he heard before Aerith ended the call.

~ END ~

#zerith #zerithweek #zerithweek2021 #aerith gainsborough #zack fair #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #ff7r #ff7 crisis core #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic

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earthfluuke · 4 years

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i would like to start this off by apologizing to anyone who happens to read this. this is, by far, the dumbest thing i’ve ever written. it’s cute, but so, so, so dumb. like, there is no need for this to exist.

BUT. i’ve been playing animal crossing for a while now, and my friends and i were discussing which bl boys would play it. and i said tine. i mean, with all that customization? he’d definitely take the opportunity to make everything cute.

again. THIS SHOULD NOT EXIST. but here we are. i hope you all enjoy it.

a few notes:

one - this is raymond. yes, everyone loves him. yes, people are selling him for hundreds of dollars online. i’m not making this up.

two - you wish on stars in this game, and the next day, there will be star fragments on the ground. you can use these to make a special wand that lets you switch between different outfits you have. naturally, tine had to have that.

three - my friend, kaleb, dressed his animal crossing character up as tine in sarawat’s football jersey, so i had to include that.

Nuzzling up to Tine right before bed after a grueling schedule of school, music club, football practice, and running away from hordes of girls he’ll never spare more than a glance is Sarawat’s favorite part of the day. But lately, he’s felt like he needs to change the is to past tense.

Ever since Tine got that god forsaken game, he had been ditching their cuddle sessions. Sarawat has tried burrowing into his side, giving him little kisses, anything to get Tine’s attention. But it’s always met with rejection.

“In a minute,” Tine says, curled on his side, facing away from Sarawat as he swirls the joystick under his thumb to move his character around the screen. “This fish is huge. It’ll get me tons of money for sure.”

That minute never comes. Sarawat subjects himself to wrapping around Tine’s back and hugging him close. It’s nice, but not as nice as it could be.

This has been going on for weeks now, and he’s had just about enough. It’s time to amend the situation.

…

Tine blinks at the spread of cardboard, plastic, and paper on the floor next to the couch before he turns his gaze to his boyfriend for an explanation. Too caught up in whatever he’s reading, Tine goes to investigate for himself.

What he finds is a game console with similar red and blue end pieces to his own. To the right is a video game box, decorated with all too familiar, colorfully animated characters.

“What’s all this?” he asks, because he’s genuinely taken aback. If he remembers correctly, Sarawat had shaken his head and scoffed at him when he was in this same situation only a few weeks ago. From that reaction, video games clearly didn’t seem to be his thing, especially when that video game was Animal Crossing. Or so he had thought at least.

“If you’re going to spend all of your time playing this game,” Sarawat says, nudging his chin in the direction of the box without looking up from the directions he’s reading, “then I’ll just have to join you. Now, can you help me set this up? Because I’ve been trying for the past thirty minutes, and I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do. They all just keep…squeaking at me. Why do they sound like that?”

Breaking into a smile, Tine sits beside him and takes the console from the coffee table. Leave it to Sarawat to take the phrase ‘go big or go home’ literally. But he won’t complain; it will be fun to play with him.

…

It is not fun playing with Sarawat. At least not yet.

While Tine had been imagining all the cute, virtual dates they could go on, he had failed to remember that Sarawat didn’t know how the very basics of this game worked. Teaching them to him has proven to be difficult.

“I don’t get it,” Sarawat says with a little huff, dropping his console onto his lap. “I line myself up with the fish, but I can never catch one. They swim away from me every time I pull my rod up.”

Leaning over to watch him, Tine giggles softly. “You have to wait for them to bite. See?” Holding his own Switch towards him, he drops his fishing rod into the ocean, waits for the fish to grab hold, and then quickly pulls out of the water. “See? It’s easy. You try.”

Sarawat copies him, and Tine can feel him holding his breath as he waits for the fish to grab onto his line. When it finally does, he practically slams down on the A button. His character presents a pretty standard fish, but it’s still an accomplishment.

He presses a kiss to Sarawat’s cheek and pulls back with a smile. “Knew you could do it. Go catch more; you’ll need them to open up your museum.”

The edges of Sarawat’s lips peak upwards as he continues about the game. Tine goes back to the room he’s decorating, only to be interrupted by, “Why do these bugs fly away every time I get close to them? They’re gone before I can catch them.”

Tine sighs; they’ve still got a long way to go.

…

“What is that?” Tine asks just as Sarawat is collecting the wood that dropped from the tree he cut down.

“What is what?” he asks, continuing the amount of soft wood he has in his inventory. Three more pieces, and he’ll be able to complete the swinging bench DIY he just received.

“That!” Tine stresses, pointing at his character’s swollen eye.

“Oh,” he says, paying him little attention as he goes to the next tree. “I got stung by wasps.”

“I know that. But why haven’t you gotten medicine for it yet?”

He finally glances at Tine from the corner of his eye. “Do I really need to?”

Tine dramatically throws his hands into the air, clearly offended by Sarawat’s outlook. “Yes, you have to! You’re going to look like that until you do!”

Smirking, Sarawat goes into the shop, completely bypassing the cabinet with medicine in it in favor of selling the shells he found. “So this is just one of your chic things then, huh?” He pauses to look at his character. “It doesn’t look that bad. He’s still smiling. Besides, scars are hot, right?”

“Not in Animal Crossing,” Tine demands. “If you’re not going to buy any medicine, I’m sending you some.”

“I won’t use it.”

“Saraleo!”

…

Tine’s jaw is dropped, and his eyes are bugged. “How?” he asks, truly astonished.

Sarawat looks to him innocently, pointing to the screen. “How, what? How did I get to the deserted island? I did what you told me to do. I took the ticket to the airport and gave it to the dodo bird and then–”

“Not that.” Tine pushes his hand out of the way to get a better look at his screen. He moves the joystick around until the lone inhabitant of the island – a grey cat with mismatched eyes – is in frame. “That. How did you manage to find Raymond on your very first try?”

“Is he really that special?” Sarawat asks, moving his character to get a closer look.

“He’s completely new to the game, so everyone wants him. He goes for hundreds of baht online. And of course with your luck you find him on the very first island you visit.” Under his breath, he mutters, “Unbelievable.”

Humming, Sarawat circles the cat once before moving to the opposite side of the island to gather branches. Alarmed, Tine grabs his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Getting materials?” Sarawat answers skeptically.

“Get them after you invite Raymond to your island!” he demands.

“I mean, do I really have to?” Sarawat asks. “He’s cute, but he’s only a cat.”

“If you don’t, I’m breaking up with you. That’s not an exaggeration; I will have my things packed and on my way to Fong’s by tonight.”

“Okay, okay, I’m inviting him!”

…

Seeing the little blue box above his mailbox, Tine goes to check it. Inside is a package from Sarawat and a note that says ‘wear it to give me good luck.’

Putting the package into his inventory, he opens it to reveal a piece of clothing. He changes into it, and it honestly shouldn’t surprise him so much to see his character wearing a white and black jersey.

He can’t help but shake his head and laugh. He doesn’t know what Sarawat could possibly need luck for in the game, but he keeps it on regardless.

…

“I can’t believe Wat bought a Switch to play one game,” Man says over their group call. “Playing Animal Crossing together. That’s true love.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tine asks, flickering Man a smirk before he goes back to the river he’s terraforming. “Why don’t you play with P’Type then?”

Man visibly deflates. “He said if he invited me to his island, I’d mess up all of his flowers. I promised not to run through them, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“I just can’t believe Sarawat managed to get every rare villager in the game,” Phuak says.

“And he’s already had three meteor showers!” Tine adds. “I’d be mad, but he gave me all of his star fragments. So I can’t complain.”

“All of them?” Ohm exclaims, looking at the camera with wide eyes. “He didn’t keep any?”

“Tine wanted to make that special wand that lets you change into different outfits, and I honestly couldn’t care less.” Tipping Tine’s face towards him with a finger beneath his chin, Sarawat smiles softly. “Besides, it makes him happy. That’s all I really care about.”

His boyfriend’s sweet gaze and the chorus of coos coming from his laptop send Tine into a deep flush.

…

“Wat,” Tine calls. The two of them are on his island, sitting together on the bench he put in his garden. “Thank you for this. I know it’s probably not your favorite way to spend time together, and I shouldn’t have even let it come to this. I shouldn’t have let the game take up so much of my time.”

Tine doesn’t expect the flick Sarawat gives his forehead, and he rubs at it with a pout. “Stop apologizing, tua woon wai and get a few things straight. I bought this,” he holds up his console, “because I wanted to. You do plenty of things for me, and I’m doing this for you. That’s what boyfriends do.” He leans down to press a kiss to his shoulder. “And if it makes you smile, then that’s all the better.”

Tine pushes him away shyly, taking up his console again. “Come here. Take a picture with me.” He centers the camera and snaps a few shots of the two of them on the bench, soft bamboo lights illuminating the background.

Sarawat is already fast asleep when he puts the game down. Before he slips under the covers with him, he posts the pictures to his Instagram with the caption, ‘wouldn’t want to experience island life with anyone else.’

#2gether #2gether the series #saratine #sarawatine #sarawattine #sarawat x tine #my writing #THIS SHOULDN'T EXIST #I AM SO SORRY

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