#its a short duration when they stayed together but a nice soft one for sure | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

sheer atrocity (4)

warnings: captivity, mild arguing

After a brief break to eat and drink, Virgil was on the move. Again.

Considering dusk was quickly approaching and they’d been traveling or intimidating abusive dads for pretty much the entire day, Roman felt the pace they were setting was a little unreasonable.

He wasn’t the one walking it, sure, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Was this guy always so antsy, or was this a special occasion?

And while he was asking himself questions that he wouldn’t get any answers to, how long was the cast duration of this enchantment?

(More specifically, how much longer was he going to be small enough for beetles to look like dogs?

How much longer before Virgil decided what to do with him for real?)

He hadn’t seen the giant stop to recast, which meant that he’d been burning through a continuous enchantment for hours on end. Signs pointed to his magic reserves being massive. Chilling.

Roman thumped a foot against the side of the jar that rested against Virgil’s side. “Are we wandering around the woods during twilight for any particular reason, or are you just lost and too embarrassed to admit it? Too used to seeing the trees from a loftier position, perhaps?”

Virgil glanced down at him, as though just recalling he was there. Offended, Roman made a mental note to make more of his internal diatribes to external diatribes. The only thing worse than being a prisoner with an uncertain future was being an ignored prisoner with an uncertain future.

“Go back to being quiet, I forgot you were annoying for a second.”

“Absolutely not,” Roman huffed, kicking his feet against the glass repeatedly for emphasis. “The moment we see another human I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs.”

“Oh, because that worked so well for you before,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

Roman shifted positions, trying to ease a cramp in his leg. “Haven’t you heard? Third time’s the charm, and personally, I have no shortage of charm.”

There was a short pause, and then Virgil ground to a stop, taking a deep breath.

Instantly, Roman stiffened, eyes locked on the face above him. He’d forgotten himself, making jabs as though they weren’t enemies, as though he hadn’t been trapped, threatened, and used by this monster. It was too easy to pretend, when Virgil did things that were almost decent.

Sure enough, Virgil grabbed the top of the jar and lifted it from his pocket to be eye level. Roman shoved his arms out to keep himself stable, avoiding looking at the long drop below him.

“As useful as your bullheadedness was before, I don’t actually want you to scare the daylights out of the person I’m looking for this time.”

“Yes, well, I don’t want to be the size of a newborn chick, so it looks like we’re both dealing with struggles in life,” Roman snapped back, because he’d never known when to keep his mouth shut.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “I could just muffle your jar, you know. I’m magic; I can do that.”

He could? Roman was sort of surprised he hadn’t done so already.

“But,” he continued with a sigh, “I think this one will probably be easier with your help. I’m not great at putting people at ease.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Roman snorted, and then jerked as the rest of the sentence sunk in. “Wait, hang on. ‘Put people at ease’? There is no way I’m helping you with any nefarious plots!”

“It’s not nefarious!” Virgil shifted his weight, glancing around impatiently. “And it’s time sensitive. Either help me or don’t, I don’t care.”

It couldn’t be that simple, but Roman wasn’t about to pass up a chance to see something other than the interior of a pocket. “Fine, but if I see you doing something evil, I’m not going to stand idly by!” And then, petulantly. “Also, I want out of the jar.”

“As long as you actually use your brain instead of your biases to judge me,” Virgil snarked back, but obligingly pried off the lid and tipped the jar on its side. Rather than pull or tip Roman out, he held his hand to the lip of the opening and waited.

It was almost more nerve wracking to climb into a giant hand willingly, but Roman managed it. The jar was whisked away, and Roman lifted to neck level. He stared blankly.

“Going to get off anytime soon?” Virgil asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“What am I getting on? Your collar bones?” Roman replied incredulously. “Wouldn’t a shoulder be better?”

The hand under him shifted slightly, angling him towards the folds of the cloak where it met the hood. “The fabric has better grip here. You’ll fall off my shoulder if we’re attacked.”

Attacked by who? “Paranoid much?” Roman dallied for a moment longer, but the idea of falling really was an unappealing one, so he climbed up and managed to find a seat amongst the bunched up cloth.

As soon as he was settled, Virgil set off again, and Roman clung tightly, staring out at this strange new perspective of the forest. Weird, but definitely better than the jar.

They moved along in relative silence, Virgil surprisingly light on his feet for a giant. The sun had just begun to sink below the horizon when he finally jerked to a halt.

Roman opened his mouth to complain at the sudden stop, but Virgil’s head was tilted, as though carefully listening. After a moment, he turned to a nearby patch of shrubbery.

“Hey,” he called, voice lacking it’s usual edge. “I can hear you over there.”

There was a long pause, and Roman blinked as the shrubbery began to tremble slightly. There was actually someone in there?

“Easy,” Virgil said, lowering himself into a squat. “I’m not going to hurt you. I can help you find the way out of these woods, if you’d like.”

After a moment, a small hand pushed part of the bush aside, peering out cautiously at them. Roman’s heart twisted at the kid’s face, smudged with dirt and tear streaks. They couldn’t have been more than eight.

Virgil shifted, and Roman felt a chill go through him, remembering who, or rather what he was with. He couldn’t let the giant lure the kid into whatever scheme he was planning.

“There you go,” Virgil coaxed, offering a hand to help the kid stand up. “It must have been scary, stuck out in the woods alone. You did good to stay in one spot.”

Roman bit down on the automatic urge to call out a warning, listening to the way Virgil carefully encouraged the kid to stand up and brush the twigs from their hair. This was important. He had to consider the situation from all angles before making a move.

If Virgil really wanted to abduct a random kid in the woods, he didn’t need to convince them of anything. He’d dealt with a trained slayer as though he was a minor annoyance, a kid wasn’t exactly a challenge. So why was he going to all this trouble?

Roman thought about the soft edges of Virgil’s expression when he gave Patton his coat back. Maybe… it wasn’t a ruse?

“I’m Virgil,” the giant in question said, shaking Roman from his thoughts. “And this is Roman. We’re travelling together.”

Roman startled, not expecting to be introduced. “Uh, salutations!”

The kid stared with wide eyes. “You’re so small!” they blurted, before covering their mouth hurriedly.

Virgil cut in before Roman could correct him. “He’s a pixie. Likes to cause problems on purpose.”

Roman huffed “I do not! Don’t let him fool you, I am a delight.”

The kid giggled, and Virgil’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Roman wished he could see his expression.

From there it was second nature to keep up a stream of chatter with the kid about everything from their favorite food (honey on bread) to their stance on frogs (cute but you shouldn’t kiss them). It grew darker and darker as they walked, and after the kid had almost tripped over stray roots thrice in rapid succession, Virgil had crouched and lifted them onto his back with ease.

Before long, the kid was snoring lightly, face smushed against his hood, and there was a surprisingly comfortable silence in the air between them.

Virgil broke it first. “Thanks for not freaking out. I didn't know you had it in you.”

Roman crossed his arms, ignoring how close he’d come to freaking out. “This doesn’t mean I trust you or anything. We’re still enemies, you’re just. Not as bad as you could’ve been.”

“Yipee,” Virgil deadpanned, shrugging his shoulder under Roman slightly to jostle him. Roman jabbed his elbow in the general direction of Virgil’s neck in retaliation. “Very gracious of you.”

“I certainly won’t be as gracious the next time you pass me off as a pixie,” Roman muttered, prompting a low, half-air laugh from Virgil. He realized belatedly that he’d assumed there would be a next time, and hadn’t been corrected. He wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not.

What was it about this giant that made Roman feel at ease to speak his mind, even in such a precarious position?

Virgil slowed as they came up on the town again, crouching to gently nudge the kid awake and set them on their own two feet again. “You’re home, kiddo.”

“Don’t go traipsing around in the forest again, y’hear?” Roman added sternly. “Not everything in those woods are as nice as us.”

The kid nodded solemnly, and then grumbled sleepily as Virgil ruffled their hair and pushed them towards the paved path into town.

Once the kid reached the town's edge, they turned around to peek over their shoulder. The two of them were already well out of sight, waiting until the kid had been safely whisked into the arms of their parents before departing.

Roman waited with bated breath, but despite their deal being over, Virgil seemed to have no intent of removing him from his newfound perch. He sunk deeper into the fabric as they continued to trek on.

For now, he could let himself enjoy this tentative peace.

#sanders sides #g/t #fantasy au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts elliott #writing #my writing #sheer atrocity #sa #sorry this is late posting hours i fell asleep again

201 notes · View notes

whitewolfandthefox · 5 years ago

Text

My Guardian Angel

Prompt: Anonymous - hey!! would it be alright if I requested a songfic for Geralt x reader, the song I want is Your Guardian Angel by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. I was hoping for some angst where Geralt is pining after the reader

Summary: After many years, you and Geralt run into each other when he is hired for a contract. The love that the two of you had had prior blossoms again, but not without its setbacks. Is the love that you and Geralt had years earlier enough to overcome the obstacles the world is determined to set in your way?

Words: 8.4 k

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of abuse, death, injury, illness, angst, not a happy ending

A/N. I hurt myself writing this, sorry guys. You said angst and I took it and ran. Woops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I actually hadn’t heard this song before, so it was a nice challenge for myself!

Add yourself to the tag list here!

Thank you to @bastardfruitsandbasil for helping me figure out the fight scenes!

My Guardian Angel

Geralt was tired. He had been on the road for days, having heard of a long term contract with a significant reward. When he had finally reached the castle where the contract was based out of, he was told to wait in an antechamber until someone would meet with him.

He had been pacing for at least half an hour when you finally slipped into the room, gently closing the door behind you before looking up at him.

“Sir Witcher, how kind of you - Oh! Geralt!” Geralt could see a flush come over your cheeks when you realized it was him. Relaxing slightly now that it was someone he knew, Geralt allowed a small smile to grace his lips.

“It’s been too long, Y/N. It is good to see you again.” At the sound of his low voice, you flushed further before gesturing at a small table in the corner of the room. Geralt knew there was a map on it, having examined the room while he waited, but followed you over nonetheless. Leaning against the table slightly, you began to speak, telling Geralt of the monsters that had been attacking various villages in the kingdom.

“They had just been attacking the outskirts of small towns, taking livestock and supplies originally. Lately, though, they have been taking people. There have been seven villagers killed in attacks, and countless more injured. There are several people missing as well, we don’t know if they have been taken or if they have been- oh!” you were cut off as another man in armour entered the room and came up behind you, grabbing your waist and spinning you around harshly before pinning you to his chest as he kissed you.

He released you, allowing you to stand beside him, though keeping a hand on the small of your back. You offered Geralt a tight smile as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand. “Geralt, I would like you to meet my husband, Sir Livialli. We were married last year.”

As the man smirked at him, Geralt felt a flash of hot something go through him with the news. “I offer you my congratulations,” he ground out. You thanked him politely, the lines around your eyes getting harder with the phrase.

Sir Livialli turned to you, dismissing Geralt. “You have informed him of the contract, yes? Discussed payment? Told him what is expected?”

“I-” you tried to reply.

“Good, good. Well, don’t forget that you will be serving dinner for the both of us in my quarters tonight. I have spoken with the cook and he is expecting you to pick up the tray at dusk.” With that, Sir Livialli pivoted sharply and left the room, not waiting for a reply.

You sighed, turning to Geralt as you pasted a smile on your face. He could tell that it was forced, you looked tired under your facade. He frowned at you, silently asking a question.

Dropping into a chair along the wall, you ran a hand over your face before looking up at Geralt as he moved to the chair next to yours. “He means well, he’s just used to having servants. We are just staying here, this isn’t our manor. The king has asked that my husband help out with the monster problem as he is a proficient knight.” You rolled your head so Geralt was in your gaze. “You will likely be working with him at some point.”

Geralt grunted in response as you fell silent. Observing you, he could see the underlying exhaustion in your posture, could see the stress lines that had gathered on your face. You looked so different from when you two had first met several years earlier.

Geralt looked up sharply as the door to his room opened before you stepped in, a tray of food and medicine in your hands. You smiled brightly at him, ignoring the scowl that appeared on his face at the sight of visitors.

“It’s time for your medicine, Geralt.” you almost sang, “I need to check your bandages as well.”

You flounced over to his bed, setting the tray down on the table next to it as you gestured for the man to sit up. Gently, you peeled the layers of cloth back, clicking your tongue when the wounds were revealed. “They are almost healed, love, you’ll be back on your feet and out and about in no time. There is no bleeding either, so I won’t have to change them just yet.” You quickly and efficiently wrapped the bandages back around his torso, your fingers gentle and your demeanour holding no fear.

You stood from where you had sat on his bed to check his bandages, turning to regard him once more. “You are too pale, Witcher, you should get some sunlight.” Pursing your lips at the lack of reply, you shook your head before turning and heading for the door.

“Wait.”

The low voice stopped you with your hand on the doorknob. You turned your head slightly, regarding the man out of the corner of your eye.

“If it would be ok with you… I would appreciate- that is, if you didn’t mind..”

“Spit it out, Geralt, I won’t bite.” You turned to face him fully, a small smile on your face to sharpen the blow of your words.

“I have been in bed for a while, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mind helping me outside. To the gardens maybe?” Geralt looked unsure at his request, wondering if he had taken your comment for what it was meant to be.

A smile split your face, lighting up the room and causing Geralt’s heart to speed up slightly. You practically floated back over to the bed, swiping his shirt from a chair as you went. “I thought you would never ask.”

That day was the first of many ventures out to the garden and beyond.

The two of you had met while he was recovering at a Temple of Melitele where you had been studying healing. You had been one of the only healers who had been comfortable around him, and eventually the only one he trusted with his care. A fragile love had blossomed between the two of you that consisted of walks, stolen nights, and soft whispers in the mornings. You had agreed to part ways when he was healed, as you would soon be heading back to your family and Geralt back out into the hunt. There was an unspoken if at your parting, a small hope that you might see each other again.

It seemed that fate was a cruel mistress though, bringing the two of you back together sooner that you could have hoped, but ensuring you couldn’t be together through your marriage.

Geralt came back to the present with a frown on his face, which only deepened as he compared his memories of you to the figure in front of him. “How have you been? Since you left the temple?”

You sighed again, shaking your head with a strained smile. “I have been good, Geralt. I learned much, and have been lucky enough that Sir Livialli allows me to continue working with our people. I have been able to heal a great many of the king’s subjects with my knowledge.”

Squinting his eyes at you, Geralt nodded, although he didn’t believe you. As if you knew he didn’t believe your words, you stood, brushing your skirt off. “Well, if you will excuse me Geralt, I have many matters that I need to attend to. Perhaps I shall see you in passing while you are here.”

Geralt stood as well and took a step towards you, frowning when you flinched and took a small step back. Slowly, he reached for your hand, something releasing in his chest when you relaxed and allowed him to lift it to his lips, flushing when he pressed a soft kiss to your palm. “I hope to see you around, my lady.”

A small smile graced your lips as you gently withdrew your hand, ducking your head as you left the room. The softness in Geralt’s face slowly melted behind your back, upset that seemed so tired in such a short time, confused that you flinched away from him when you never had before, dismayed at the prospect that you had already moved on from him. He resolved to seek you out again, to make sure that you were ok with the life you had now.

**~*~*~*~**

After you left, Geralt met briefly with the king before he asked to be pointed in the direction of the most recent attack. Seeing the late hour, the king said that he would have Geralt escorted to the scene first thing tomorrow morning, but suggested that he get some rest this evening. Annoyed, but seeing the reason in it, Geralt retreated to the rooms he had been given for the duration of his stay.

Once there, he lay down in bed, closing his eyes to try to go to sleep, but his mind kept returning to you. He kept comparing the memories of the bright, young woman he remembered from the temple to the worn down person he had met today. He couldn’t reconcile what had happened to you, what had been done to make that excitable healer into what he had seen today.

You flung your arms out the side, narrowly missing Geralt’s face as you collapsed backwards into the soft grass. He allowed a rare smile to grace his lips, amused with your antics. Rolling to your stomach, you lifted your head to peer at the Witcher. What started as a chuckle turned into a full blown laugh as he saw the pieces of grass stuck in your hair. Scowling, you swatted at him in retaliation. Gently, he brushed you off, reaching to pull the pieces of grass from your head.

Settling, you tugged on Geralt’s hand, pulling him down next to you, snuggling into his side once he was settled. “I can’t wait to be out in the world, to be able to explore and see all of the sights. And to help people! I’ll be able to use what I learned here to help my people, no one will suffer a hurt if I can help it.”

Nosing your hair, Geralt smiled down at you. “And what a wonderful healer you will make.”

You had been so excited about leaving the temple. You had been sad to see him go, but the two of you understood that your lives were headed in very different directions. There was always that underlying hope that you would see each other again, that fate might have more written for you. It seemed that she did, though not in the way either of you had anticipated.

Rolling out of bed, Geralt shook the memories from his mind. Realizing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night, he attended to his gear, checking his armour and sharpening his weapons in anticipation of morning, falling into a slight meditation as he focused on the repetitive actions.

A knock roused him from the light trance he had fallen into, a servant with a tray of food and the message that a guide would be by to retrieve him in half an hour. It was a quick trip to the village, Geralt being left at the scene of the attack as the guide quickly left him, glancing nervously around him as he guided his horse back towards the castle.

Dismounting and tying Roach to a nearby stand, Geralt surveyed the town. It was deserted, houses locked and dark, streets empty of people. Hearing voices, he moved further into the town, following the low murmur towards a large house in the centre of town. As he walked, he could see evidence of the attack. Blood splatters stained walls, weapons littered the ground along with anything else the villagers had been carrying when the monsters attacked.

He could see the claw marks on the walls, the creature obviously very violent. He needed to see the bodies of the victims, needed to determine just exactly what was causing this much damage. Reaching the source of the noise, he was surprised to see you there. You were directing various healers, organizing the chaos, a bloodstained apron covering your front. Your sleeves were pushed up past your elbows, blood staining your hands, hair falling from where you secured. The beds behind you were full of people, some more injured than others. The healers worked frantically, trying to save as many as they could. You looked harried as Geralt approached you, directing a young healer to go boil more water.

“Y/N.” you jumped at your name, spoken in the low voice you still heard in your dreams. Turning, you saw Geralt standing behind you, dressed in full armour.

“Oh, Geralt.” you glanced behind you as your name was called. “One moment!” you turned back to the Witcher in front of you. “What did you need?”

“I need to examine the bodies to determine what did this.” He felt his chest tighten as your face fell. You wiped your hands off on your apron, catching another healer as he went past.

“I am going to show the Witcher the bodies, I will be back in a moment.” the frazzled healer nodded, before continuing in the direction he had been going. Turning, you led Geralt back out of the door of your temporary hospital. You turned and headed towards the edge of town, the sounds fading the farther away you got. Geralt trotted after you, content to remain silent, knowing you needed it after the harried morning you were sure to have had.

“They were ravaged, Geralt.” He jumped as you broke the silence, before frowning at your defeated tone. “The monsters’ claws cut through skin and muscle like paper, so many people died just from their wounds.” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “We also found some bodies drained of blood. Mainly young males. Their bodies weren’t as bad, but they were emptied. I think it's some sort of vampire.”

“It sounds like it, I would still like to see the bodies and confirm. The best would be to see the creatures, but that would require another attack and we don’t want one anytime soon.” Geralt’s frown grew as you shrunk in on yourself, stopping a few meters away from a dark house just outside the treeline. Realization dawned on him when he could smell the scent of blood coming from the house. He glanced back, seeing that the town was out of sight around the bend they had just followed, in the hopes other villagers would not wander across the dead.

“We haven’t had a chance to bury them yet.” You wouldn’t look at him, tears in your eyes as you fought to control your emotions. Shaking yourself, you went to the door and lifted a lit torch from its holder before entering, lighting more torches as you went. Geralt followed you, observing the various pallets that held sheet covered bodies.

Pulling one back, he winced as he saw the face of a young woman frozen in a scream, her chest cut open revealing the layers of muscle and bone. After examining the wounds, Geralt recovered the body, moving to the next pallet. This one held a young male, mostly uninjured. The white pallor of his skin betrayed the cause of death, the body had been drained of blood. Looking closer, Geralt could see a bite mark at the base of his neck, sharp teeth marks deep in the skin.

Standing, he turned to face you who had retreated to the doorway, gazing out into the forest. “It’s definitely a vampire, although of which grade I am not sure. It might be a bruxa or a higher vampire. Do you have any victims who would be willing to talk to me, to tell me what they saw?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, refusing to turn and look at the bodies, postured rounded under the stress. “There may be a few, some people we are treating were on the edge of the attack and not injured as extensively. I can ask when we go back.”

Nodding, Geralt approached you, gesturing for you to lead the way back to the hospital. The walk back was silent, Geralt glancing occasionally at you. As you reached the bend, Geralt stopped suddenly, you taking a few steps before realizing he was no longer beside you.

“What-” you stopped speaking, seeing Geralt tense, staring at the trees on the side of the path. You realized the forest had fallen silent, no birds singing or animals calling for their mates. Unconsciously, your hand drifted to the short sword you had strapped to your waist, thankful that you had insisted on silver. Your husband had protested, saying you wouldn’t need it, but you fought for it, one of the fews things you didn’t back down on.

Suddenly, a dark figure with wings leapt out of the trees, knocking Geralt to the ground as you shrieked. “Run Y/N!” he growled, throwing the figure from him and rolling to his feet, unsheathing the silver sword on his back in one fluid motion.

Turning, you started in the direction of town, stopping quickly when three more figures dropped down in front of you. You stumbled back towards Geralt, drawing your sword from its sheath, gripping it in both hands. The lead creature flared it's dark wings, opening its mouth to release a screech, displaying a mouth full of sharp teeth. The creature was pale, long dark hair covering its shoulders, ending at halfway down the humanoid’s chest, ribs on display. Wrinkled skin covered every inch, dried blood covering its chin and chest.

The creature screeched again, darting at you with a hand ending in a claw raised to attack. You ducked under the strike, bringing your sword up to slash its ribs as it went past you, pivoting on your heel and back away to keep the two sets of creatures in your sight. You could feel Geralt approaching your left side, sword held out in front of him.

“Stay close to my side, we need to keep them in front of us.” Geralt’s voice rumbled out next to you, making you jump at the abruptness of his voice. Breathlessly, you voiced your agreement before dancing to the right, stabbing up at the creature's chest as it lunged at your pair, as Geralt brought his sword down in a chopping motion, severing its head from its body.

Pulling your blade out, the two of you moved clear of the body, turning back to back as the three remaining monsters separated, two moving to flank you on either side as the third remaining motionless, tilting its head to observe you.

You felt Geralt shift his weight behind you as you watched the two creatures to either side of you, dodging as you heard the man behind you roar “left!”

You moved, the monster to your side attacking, claws swiping at your body. You slashed as it passed, cutting into its arm, leaving the limb hanging useless at its side. You could hear the dying screech of Geralt’s creature, feel him move to stab the creature that just passed you. The monster backed away from Geralt towards you, you swiftly moved out of its way, losing the protection Geralt had provided at your back.

As you moved, you suddenly became aware of the fact that there had been four creatures attacking. You and Geralt had dispatched two and he was occupied with a third, so where was the fourth? Spinning at the feeling of a presence behind you, you desperately brought your sword up to block the claws that were striking in your direction. You managed to catch the arm and redirect it slightly, but it wasn’t enough to keep you entirely unharmed.

A wave of hot pain washed over you as the monster’s claws bit deep into your arm and side, blood blooming on the cloth. You released a shout at the feeling, switching your sword to just your right hand, ducking and stabbing at the humanoid as it rushed you again, feeling your sword strike true.

Releasing the hilt, you staggered backwards, clutching at your side as your head spun with the pain. Geralt was quick to grab you as you swayed, he must have dispatched the other monster without you noticing. His hands frantically roamed your body, searching desperately for the source of the blood. You swatted his hands away, staggering a few meters to sit on a nearby rock. Not that the pain was setting in, it was like a wave of cold water flowing over you, clearing your mind briefly. You knew you had minutes before the shock set in.

Reaching to the pouch you kept at your waist, you ripped it off and handed it to Geralt who was hovering anxiously, hands outstretched to do what, you weren’t sure. Reaching down, you ripped the bottom of your tunic off before pressing it against your side, Geralt doing the same with his outer layer, having stripped his upper armour to get at it. You swayed again, Geralt lunging at you to keep you upright.

“There are herbs in my bag, they will help staunch the bleeding.” Leaving Geralt to scramble through the pouch you’d handed him, you peeled the ripped cloth away from the wounds on your arm and your side, wincing when you saw the torn skin. Looking more closely, the wounds weren’t too deep, they just bled freely. A broad hand entered your vision, holding the herbs to help stop the bleeding. Taking them with a murmur of thanks, you began pressing the herbs against your side to staunch the bleeding, watching as Geralt moved away to examine the bodies.

The world spun around you as you pressed the cloth back over the herbs, seeing the bleeding slowing. All of a sudden, Geralt appeared in your vision again, crouching in front of you with a concerned look on his face. You could see his lips moving, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Focusing hard, you finally made out what he was saying. “We need to get you out of here, get you somewhere safe.”

Dazed, you nodded absently, hand reaching up to grip Geralt’s shoulder to help you stand. His arm snaked around your side, replacing your hand as he put pressure on your side. You staggered slightly, leaning on the large man next to you for support. Slowly, the two of you made your way back to town, you insisting on stopping at the hospital to check on your patients.

When you got there and your fellow healers saw your state, your quick check-in turned into an extensive medical check as they cleaned and stitched your wounds before finally allowing you to leave with Geralt after bandaging your arm and your side. You half-led, half-stumbled to a house nearby, mumbling that one of your patients told you to use their house. Geralt was almost hauling you at that point, carrying you through the door before settling you down on to the pallet in the bedroom. You blinked up at him, shivering from the blood loss. As he retreated, you reached up to grab at his hand, stopping him. “Stay, please?” you asked softly.

Geralt stopped, hesitation on his face. You tugged on his hand again, and he went with you, laying down next to you as you shuffled backwards into his chest. His arm came around to hold you against him, cognizant of your injuries. You sighed, body relaxing into him as the two of you succumbed to sleep.

**~*~*~*~**

The next morning, you slowly rose to consciousness, aware of a large, warm weight pressing you down. You shifted, and then winced as your movements caused sharp pain to shoot through you. “Are you awake, mouse?” a deep voice rumbled from above your head.

Slowly opening your eyes, you took stock of your surroundings as the memories from the previous night came back to you. You smiled at the nickname, remembering the secret nights that gave you your nickname. Rolling stiffly so as to avoid agitating your injuries, you turned to your other side to face Geralt. His golden eyes gazed at you softly, “How are you feeling?”

You sighed, “I’m sore, but not in too much pain. I will be fine in a few days.”

He nodded, “Good.” His arms tightened around you briefly before releasing you as he stood up and left the bed. You sat up slowly, wincing as you stretched your arm. Geralt returned to the bed, handing you your pouch of herbs. You thanked him silently, searching for your painkillers.

“The monster was a bruxa.” You glanced up at him as he started speaking. “We knew it was a vampire, now we know which grade. They can only be killed by silver.” he glanced at your sword leaned up against the wall. “Which thankfully you had.”

You sighed, “A bruxa. And it looked like there was a pack of them.”

Geralt watched you as you rolled your shoulder with a wince before standing and striding to the wall and strapping your sword back on. “I should let the king know, he will be interested in what monster is plaguing our kingdom.”

Geralt watched your slow movements with an intensity you couldn’t interpret. “I missed you.”

Your head shot up, not expecting an admission like that from him. You stared at him, watching as he moved closer to you. His hands came up to cup your face, your own latching onto his wrists as you stared at each other. “I missed you as well,” you whispered. “It was so hard to leave, not knowing if I was going to see you again.”

“I know.” his breath brushed against your lips as he brought his face to capture you in a kiss. You melted against him, body relaxing into his broad chest, eyes fluttering shut as a warm feeling came over you.

You sighed into Geralt’s mouth, savouring the feeling that you had missed, that you had longed for. His hands left your face, arms coming to wrap around you, holding you close to him, your hands resting on his chest as you parted, leaning your head against his shoulder, content in each other’s presence.

As you relaxed further, you realized what you were doing. You ripped yourself away from him, panic and fear taking over your being. You stumbled, flinching when Geralt’s hands came out to steady you, backing away further. You tried to ignore the hurt that flashed through his eyes before a stony mask came over his face.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I can’t, you, we can’t, I have to go.” You turned to rush for the door, being stopped by Geralt’s hand grasping your wrist. You tugged, trying to free yourself, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why? What did I do?” He asked of you, trying to understand what had changed.

“I have a husband, Geralt, I must be faithful.” You replied wearily, ignoring the hurt that went through you at the sound of his voice.

“He doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, mouse, please.” His voice was ragged, pleading with you to stay. Your heart clenched at the use of your nickname.

“You don’t understand, I don’t stay for me.” With that, you wrenched your arm out of his grasp and fled, hot tears running down your face.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt tried to speak to you after the incident, not content with the explanation given. It had felt right to have you in his arms, he had the most restful sleep that he had had in years with you. He didn’t understand what had changed. You had loved each other and you very clearly were uncomfortable with your husband. Why you had married him in the first place, he had no idea.

The first couple of days Geralt barely saw you. You would leave the hall when he entered, you wouldn’t come down for meals, and he heard whispers that you had taken ill. He didn’t have a chance to seek you out, spending his afternoons and nights hunting for the pack of bruxa in the forest and sleeping through the mornings to recover. You began to spend more time in court, but he was still unable to find a time to speak to you.

He would see you across the hall, speaking with other ladies of the court. You would look up and see him, sending him a sad smile when your eyes would meet, but whenever he tried to approach you you would disappear, making excuses to the women you were with. They would always apologize to him for you leaving, saying that you had something to attend to, but there was an underlying sadness when they spoke.

Geralt didn’t understand, normally he was met with hostility and distrust, never with this gentle sadness and understanding. The women never shied away from him, but would approach him and make conversation whenever he would try to speak with you, allowing you an escape. Finally, frustrated with being unable to speak to you for days, he asked one of the ladies he often saw you speaking with.

“She can’t talk to you dear,” the lady explained, glancing around as she dropped her voice. “Her husband was furious when she didn’t return to the castle that night, even though she was injured. He has said they will be returning to their manor as soon as the monsters are taken care of, dreadful things. The poor darling was so distressed after the attack she rarely left her room for days.”

Realizing it was your husband preventing you from speaking to him, Geralt felt a shallow hope ignite itself in his chest. You clearly didn’t love your husband, he could offer for you to come with him, leave this life. You had always wanted to travel, and this could be your opportunity. With this resolve, Geralt renewed his effort to speak to you. For all his efforts, you had suddenly disappeared, and even the ladies who had been so kind to him wouldn’t say anything. When asked their faces would drop and they would shake their heads, but refuse to speak of you. He decided that if you wouldn’t go to him he would just have to come to you.

**~*~*~*~**

You closed your balcony doors behind you, allowing yourself a reprieve from the man in your chambers. Walking to the railings, you slumped against them, posture tired. You pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You didn’t hear the sounds of someone climbing over the edge until a hand entered your vision, resting itself on your arm. Frightened, you spun away, mouth opening to scream for help, before freezing as you realized it was Geralt.

Folding in on yourself in defeat, you dropped into the chair next to you, Geralt coming to kneel beside your feet. “You have been avoiding me, mouse. What has happened?”

You can’t be here, it's not safe.” You whispered, refusing to meet his eyes. “You need to leave, Geralt, before he finds you.”

With a growl, you sensed him send a glare at the closed doors. “He poses no danger to me, I could care less if he sees me here. I am visiting an old friend, what is so wrong with that.”

Exploding out your chair, you dropped the shawl as you strode away before spinning back to pierce with Witcher with a glare. “It is not you who is danger, but me! He does not want me seeing you, Geralt, just leave! Before you do any more damage!”

Geralt froze as your shawl fluttered to the ground, revealing what you had been trying to keep from him. He thought back to the previous week, remembering that even though the days had been warm, you had dresses with long sleeves and high collars while the rest of the women wore less. He remembered the gentle way they had handled you, no one coming up from behind you, making sure they always approached you from the front.

His eyes raked over you as your thin nightgown revealed the bruises, handprints around your wrists and throats, your arms covered in blotchy black and blue. A growl erupted from his throat as he strode towards you, his mind registering that you didn't flinch away from his approach. Gently, he took one arm, a shiver running through you as he gently brushed his fingers over the wounds that adorned you.

“Why?” his voice was broken when he asked, eyes full of despair at your situation. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook your head, unable to find the words to answer that question.

“Love, you can’t stay with him if this is how he treats you. Come with me. The contract is almost done, we have a general idea of where the nest is, once I have disposed of it I am free to go. I could take you anywhere you wanted. We could travel, see the world. I could set you up as a healer in an apothecary. Anywhere but here, mouse, you know you can’t stay.”

Geralt caught you as you collapsed into his arms, sobs wracking your body as the dreadful sounds forced their way out of you. Gathering you, he settled himself into the chair you had vacated, arranging you on his lap as you cried, your body shuddering with the force of your grief. He let you, just holding you, supporting you as you released the emotions that had been building up, unable to release them to anyone. Shushing you, he stroked your hair as you quieted, exhausted from your outburst.

Wiping your tears, you squirmed, trying to sit up. Geralt helped you, releasing a grumble when you stood and turned to the railings, out of his reach. Standing, he followed you, but didn’t touch as you shifted away from him.

“I can’t leave, Geralt.” Your voice was tired, defeated. “There is something that keeps me here, something I need to stay for.”

“What are you staying for?” He was starting to get agitated, upset at the thought of you being with that monster any longer. “You have no family here, your husband abuses you, what could possibly be so important that you can’t leave him?”

You refused to look at him, again shifting away as he reached for you. The movement filled him with rage.

“Or is it that I’m the Butcher of Blaviken, the Witcher with no feelings?” He hissed, ignoring the flinch that his words drew from you. “Have you forgotten the months we spent together at the Temple, the love that we had? You can just say you despise me, you have no feelings for me. Don’t lie to me, Y/N, if you have turned against me as well.”

You came alive at that, spinning to face him, eyes flaring with anger. “You don’t understand,” you spat, “I don’t stay because I want to, I stay because I have to. I have to protect what’s mine. You don’t understand the position I am in, you could never understand.”

You sighed, closing your eyes at the expression of disbelief on Geralt’s face. “Just- just leave me, Geralt. Please.” Your voice broke. “I will be fine, just… go.”

With that, you turned and entered the room behind you, leaving Geralt stunned on the balcony.

**~*~*~*~**

Your words bit deep, saying that he could never understand what you were going through. If anything, Geralt thought he was one of the only ones who could understand, having been torn from his family and forced to endure the abuse that came with the trials and training to become a Witcher. He didn’t seek you out for days, still angry that you wouldn’t explain what was going on.

He spent his nights hunting the bruxa, disposing of them with a brutal efficiency that even he was shocked at. On his way back in the mornings, he would stop and stare at your balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He tried to ignore the whispers about you in court, saying that you no longer left your rooms, you pleaded sick when anyone asked you to join them. He ignored the glances of pity the women sent his way, filled with something he didn’t understand.

It was days before Geralt saw you again, you were walking through one of the gardens in the court grounds, accompanied by one of the maids. As he approached, he could see you leaning on the woman next to you, pale and out of breath. Again, you were wearing a long sleeved, high collar dress.

You glanced up at his approach, and seeing him, quietly spoke under your breath to the woman. She frowned at you, asking a question back. You smiled softly, squeezing her arm as you nodded, before she seemed to acquiesce, staring at Geralt as she let you go. She stopped next to Geralt as she passed him, glaring up at him. “You take care with her, Sir Witcher, make sure that she doesn’t tire herself out.” She spoke before continuing, disappearing out of sight as she turned a corner on the path.

Geralt turned back to you, rushing forwards as you swayed, offering you an arm to lean on. You patted his arm, breathlessly pointing out a bench a few meters away. As he moved the pair of you towards it, Geralt examined you with a frown. He could see the edges of a bruise peeking up over your collar, and you were paler than before, highlighting the edges of a black eye that you had tried to cover with makeup.

“How are you, Geralt? Have you been able to take care of the bruxa? I haven’t been able to make it back to town to see how my people have been doing.” You spoke softly, unable to catch your breath to finish a full sentence.

He stared at you in disbelief. “You are worried about your people? What about you, Y/N? He is killing you, you can’t stay!”

You ignored his question, again asking about your people. Geralt assured you they were fine, that they were healing before returning the subject to you. “Even the ladies in the court are worried. A few of them asked me if I had spoken to you. You need to care for yourself, not just your people.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand. No one understands. I can’t leave him, I have to protect what’s mine.”

“Then tell me!” Geralt all but roared, before regretting his tone as you flinched. He softened his tone, eyes desperate. “Mouse, please, help me understand. If I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t help you. Please, let me help you.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you collapsed into his side, burying your face in his chest, his arms coming around your back to support you. He gently rubbed circles into your back, soothing you as you cried. You quieted down after a while, leaving your head resting on his chest as you spoke. “I have a daughter.”

Geralt froze, understanding flooding him at your statement. You shifted, struggling to sit up as he guided you with his hand. “We met a few years ago, he was kind and caring. My parents were thrilled, a knight!” You laughed hollowly. “He just wanted someone to play with. After a few months, we were out for a walk in the woods and he-” you cut yourself off with a sob, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

Geralt growled at this admission, rage filling his chest. His hands gripped you tighter, pulling you into his side as if he could protect you from the world with that action. You took a deep breath, calming yourself as you continued.

“I refused to see him after that, my parents didn’t understand why I had suddenly cut off my relationship with him. Until I missed a cycle. I had always wanted a baby, just not that way. When my parents found out, they spoke to his father and arranged our marriage, not wanting to bring a scandal between the two of us. People had been curious, we had spent a lot of time wandering our town.”

You glanced up at him, frantic to make him understand.. “Once we were married, I thought it would be fine. He was kind to me while I was pregnant. It was only a few months ago that he started getting physical with me. But he started threatening her, my little Corinna, and I couldn’t let him hurt her! If he is too busy with me, he won’t touch her! Please Geralt, he can’t hurt her. I can’t leave, he’d kill her! She’s eight months old, she doesn’t deserve this.”

Again, you dissolved into tears, sobbing against his chest as his arms came up to protect you from the evils in this world.

**~*~*~*~**

You had been exhausted from crying, so Geralt had returned you to your rooms. The maid that had been with you at first was waiting by your door, sending Geralt a glare at your state until he asked her to keep Sir Livialli from the rooms, and that he would be back to collect you at the end of his contract.

“Oh thank you, Sir Witcher, thank you for helping her. She is so kind to everyone, we couldn’t stand that she was letting him do this to her.” She tearfully thanked him, saying that she would have some things packed for you when he came to collect you.

Geralt strode to his room, radiating anger as he dressed in his armour with cold precision, slinging his silver sword over his back. He went to the throne room next, requesting Sir Livialli to accompany him on his final attack on the bruxa’s nest. The king was delighted at this, offering further assistance but Geralt refused, saying that he only needed two, any more and the pack would know that they were coming.

The ride to the forest was silent, neither the knight nor the Witcher speaking to each other. The battle was vicious, Geralt sending as many bruxa at the knight as possible while still taking down the nest. There were six bruxa left, Geralt having exterminated many of them during his previous forays. Sensing the younger, male blood, four of the bruxa went after Sir Livillia while two went after Geralt.

He dispatched them quickly, keeping his back to a tree while parrying the slashes of claws and teeth. Putting his sword point down in the dirt, he leaned against the tree and observed the fight across from him.

The man was a decent swordsman, Geralt observed. He was keeping up for the most part, having killed one of the bruxa. Lifting his sword, Geralt stalked towards the group. One of the creatures saw him coming, turning and attacking. It was a short fight, Geralt slashing its arms before ending it with a thrust through its chest, turning to meet the second last bruxa attacking to avenge its fallen sister. Sir Livialli was slowing, Geralt noticed, as he was occupied with the last monster.

He slowed his strokes, toying with his opponent as he observed the knight drop his sword after taking a slash to his arm. Geralt quickly disposed of the bruxa, stopping and watching as Sir Livialli fell to the ground, the monster having opened his back with its claws. He dragged himself through the dirt, reaching to Geralt for aid.

“Help… me…” he managed to groan, Geralt watching him with a piercing gaze. He didn’t respond for a moment, the bruxa stalking in for the kill.

Geralt stared at him with a cold face. “Why should I help you when you have hurt her?”

A look of realization came over Sir Livialli’s before the expression turned to horror as the bruxa leapt onto him, tearing his throat out with a jerk of its head. Geralt swung his sword, separating its head from its body while it was distracted with its kill. Cleaning his sword, he resheathed it and swiftly moved to mount Roach, turning her in the direction of the castle before taking off as fast as he could.

**~*~*~*~**

The castle was quiet when he returned, a somber mood in the air. Geralt quickly reported to the king that the nest was destroyed, but Sir Livialli had unfortunately lost his life in the attack. The king dismissed this, praising Geralt for his deeds and passing over his reward.

Having settled his account, he all but ran through the hallways, desperate to see you and to take you away from the hell hole that was this place. As he reached your rooms, he stopped, seeing some of your friends leaving with tears in their eyes. The maid he had spoken to earlier looked up at his approach, her face falling as she saw him. The door opened behind her, Geralt flinching as the copper scent of blood hit him. The colour drained from his face as he saw another woman hurry out of the room, a wad of bloody towels in her arms.

He entered the room, finding you lying pale and limbless on the bed, surrounded by women. Seeing him, the woman at your head gently prodded you, whispering something to you. At her words, you rolled your head towards him, a pained smile gracing your face. “Geralt.” you murmured.

At your words, he padded forwards, scared to make too much noise. You raised a hand to him, and Geralt’s heart fell as he saw it shake in the air. Grasping it softly, he brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as he sat on the bed by your side.

“You came back.”

“I did. And I promise he will never hurt you or your daughter, ever again.” Geralt reached out, brushing a piece of your hair away from your sweaty face.

“That’s… good…” Your eyes fell closed. One of the women in the room beckoned to Geralt, drawing him to the side.

“What happened to her?” Geralt spared you a glance as you lay pale and motionless on the bed.

“He happened.” The woman spit. “He beat her to within an inch of her life, that bastard, and left her for dead. She’s lost the baby as well.”

Geralt froze. “The baby?”

She glanced at him, sadness in her eyes. “You didn’t know? You poor thing. She was four months pregnant, but she’s miscarried. We can’t stop the bleeding, I don’t know if she’ll make it.”

He looked back at you over his shoulder, you were tossing and muttering to yourself on the bed. “Go be with her.” He felt a gentle prod to his shoulder. Following the direction, he returned to the bed, gently sitting next to you and taking your hand.

You opened your eyes. “Geralt. I’m so tired.”

“Shh.” he stroked your hair. “I’m here now.”

Tears ran down your face as you closed your eyes. “My daughter, my Corinna, you have to help her.”

“I know, I will.” He wiped your tears. “I will take care of her.”

“You always were my guardian angel, Geralt. You saved me from him. You’ll save my daughter as well.” Opening your eyes, you shakily raised a hand to his cheek. “I’m so tired.”

He felt a tear run down his face. “It’s ok. You can let go now.”

“Thank you.” You closed your eyes, head falling to the side as he heard your heart stutter, before stopping with a finality that sent a dagger through Geralt. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing and turning away from the bed. The woman from earlier stood in the doorway, a bag over her shoulder and a bundle in her arms.

“Here.” She passed Geralt the bag, he slung it over his shoulder as she passed him the bundle. Settling it in his arms, he looked down to see a small face, eyes closed, nestled in the blankets. Gently, he raised a hand to stroke a finger down the little cheek. The babe let out a soft sigh, curling closer into Geralt’s warmth.

Looking up, the woman had a soft, sad smile on her face at the two of them “I know she will be well cared for. This is what she would have wanted for her.” He nodded, not trusting his voice.

She pushed him gently, “Go Witcher.”

Readjusting his grip on the child, he looked down once more, before turning back to her. “Thank you.”

As the tears in her eyes spilled over, “Be safe. You take care of her.”

“I will.” He turned and left the room, holding his bundle close. Reaching the stables, he secured the bag to his saddle before mounting, riding out of the castle.

He travelled for weeks, stopping frequently to feed and bathe the child. It was slow going, but Geralt didn’t care. The people that he passed gawked at the sight of a Witcher with a child, but he continued on, ignoring the stares and the whispers.

He finally reached the Temple of Melitele, the priestesses welcoming him. He hid the bundle under his cloak until he secured an audience with the high priestess. She had gasped when he revealed the child, reaching out to take her from him.

“Who is this little sweet?” she cooed, holding a finger out for the babe to grab.

“This is Corinna, Y/N’s daughter. She died saving her people.” Geralt answered, ignoring the look of shock that passed over the woman’s face. “Will you care for her? The road is no place for a child.”

Looking back at the child with a look of sorrow in her face, the priestess responded, “Of course. You will visit though? Don’t leave this child with no memories of her mother.”

“I will. And I will bring coin for payment as well.”

The priestess scoffed. “No need, Geralt. You have done enough to help us over the years, it is the least we can do. But I will be expecting you to visit.”

Geralt nodded. “Thank you.” The priestess laid the babe back in his arms. Geralt looked down as Y/E/C orbs blinked up at him. “I will miss you, little one.” He raised a finger to brush the child’s face. “You be good for the priestesses, and I will be back to visit soon.”

**~*~*~*~**

Add yourself to my taglist

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @ayamenimthiriel @uncoolcloudyhead @secretsthathauntus @vintage-mind-young-body @creamysacrilege @hina-chans-stuff @bastardfruitsandbasil @shewritesinthethirdperson @widowvinter @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot

164 notes · View notes

danddymaro · 4 years ago

Text

A Dance Just For Two | PT.2

Previous : Just You

Word count : 2761

Pt. 2: Marshmallows

It was late by the time they had arrived home, actually a smidge past midnight.

So, of course, neither of the two would have expected to run into anyone.

As far as (f/n) was aware of, Natasha was away on assignment.

It was one she didn’t bother to disclose too much information on, which wasn't too much out of the ordinary because Nat never really revealed too much about where she was going, or what she’d do when she left.

It was always confidential, and everyone knew to not ask.

The redhead had left two days prior on a starless night, dressed in her form-fitting black uniform, leaving with nothing more than what was on her.

And though she was strict about what she’d reveal about her missions, she did, however, offer a small smile, along with her goodbye as she usually did.

Clint Barton had long left, announcing his retirement with a tired and half-hearted smile following up the battle in Sokovia. Prioritizing his family was beyond anything else, and seeing the growing team, he decided it was a good moment to part ways.

And hell, (f/n) couldn't blame him, because if she had a family herself, she’d pick them over everything else in the world.

Bruce Banner was still MIA, his whereabouts being a mystery to everyone, and worry ensued for him.

He was a kind man with a heavy curse, one he had no control of, and the (h/c) haired young woman could only hope he found his way back soon, returning back home safe and sound. But for the moment, it seemed that he didn’t want to be found and it was clear as day.

It was also plainly obvious that his departure had its effect on a certain member,

‘That’s probably why she keeps herself so busy now...’ (f/n) thought to herself with a touch of sadness.

Thor had also decided to part ways, his face filled with conflict as he bid his farewell, seeming to have too much on his mind to express.

Up to date, he hadn’t sent word back, and she wished there was a way to reach him, just to know if he was alright out there. (f/n) couldn’t even begin to imagine what things lay beyond the earth, what other threats the thunder god took care of alone.

She could only hope that whatever dangers he encountered, they were no match for his might.

Wanda Maximoff had become an official member of the Avengers not long after the battle in Sokovia.

She grieved over the loss of her only kin, her hands empty as she realized she had nothing more left because everything she cared for had been there at her side until his final breath, bloodied on the battlefield.

However, Clint Barton assured her she had a place, that she could pull through because her young life was filled with promise.

Every day since then, the young woman worked tirelessly to gain more control of her strange powers, learning ways to expand the manipulation of them she had access to.

Vision, who had also become a member after the events aided her, the two becoming a close pair soon after, an obvious attachment grown between them during the duration of time.

They went together like youth and inexperience, and in a sense, they represented the two sides perfectly.

The artificial being, though not requiring rest, would often partake in the falls of slumber, most often times around 10, finding it to be a reasonable hour, whereas Wanda was a toss between ten or three, with no real indicator to which she would lean to.

Either way, she stayed in her quarters, unbothered by the world outside.

Tony, of course, was someone else who stayed up late quite often, stuck in his laboratory doing things (f/n) would never come to understand because to put it plainly, she wasn't a whiz kid like he was. He stayed locked in the wide space, a dark roast of hot beverage chugged down excessively with frequency.

Heck, the man lived on coffee.

But she knew well enough it wasn't just the drink that had him up, it was much more that would haunt him, leaving him restless at night.

What was much more to leave him awake: Pepper’s absence.

What solace he’d find at her side at night went missing as she left.

“ A small business trip,” she said, to which everyone believed.

But then she didn’t return to the home, nor was she frequently shown at Stark's side like before.

She was still active as CEO of his company, something he’d never take from her, because all in all, she earned it. She was his successor despite any strain in their relationship, and (f/n) found it fitting.

(f/n) was close to Tony Stark, having grown a mutual fondness at first that grew into genuine feelings of love. And while she was certain they could speak about anything, Tony was someone that didn’t like bothering people with his own problems too.

Similar to her, he felt like a burden while opening his heart.

‘It would be nice if we could all just let go,’ She mused, ‘Let go of all the feelings that anchor us.’ She added, knowing that all of them had something that weighed them down.

Side glancing at the blonde beside her, (f/n) smiled softly, ‘ Would I be happier if I let you go?’ She wondered.

‘Or can I actually find a way to reach you, reaching happiness that way?’

The gentle warmth of the spacious room then spread all around her, smoothing her like a fluffy blanket, bringing her instant comfort, to the point of making a small moan of delight leave her to show her contentment.

Needless to say, it felt good to be home, and when she said that there was no place like home, she truly meant it.

There truly was absolutely no place like the Avengers facility, and she would go so far as to admit that it was far better than the tower they had previously gathered within.

‘It’s perfect,’ she thought gleefully as a sweet, creamy scent wafted towards her, tickling her nose and making her mouth moist with desire for the teasing, traveling aroma, even if she wasn't quite sure what it was.

She couldn't pinpoint it, but it was somewhere there on the tip of her tongue, moreover, it made her feel giddy for some reason.

And hidden in the background, being outshined by the visiting smell was a smokey wild cherry that was more recognizable and well known throughout the place.

The crisp “snip-snap” cracking sounds of the blazing fire in the room caught her attention, causing her to pull up a soft smile at the view, knowing that the lovely display was out again, spreading out warmth as well as the sweet, welcoming scent of Cherrywood.

‘Tony really outdoes himself.’ she thought to herself, gazing at the flames with fascination, watching the Amber-colored heat dance in mellow movements.

Though Stark might find improvement in the place, always running through the rest of the crew with new ideas, she thought the building in its entirety was just fine, perfect even.

She wasn't sure about everyone else, but that’s how she felt at least.

She felt that nothing needed to change as It felt like a true home, packed with people she loved.

Isn’t that what made home, well, home?

Love..?

As she swam in that thought, one particular man set himself off from the rest, just as he always did.

Her (e/c) colored eyes peeked over to the said man to find him engrossed within the sight of the soothing fire, caught in thought, just as she had been a moment ago.

With sincere admittance, she'd have given anything to know what he was thinking, and what was much more, know if there was a part of his pondering that was about her.

The smile gracing his face as he watched the flames dance made her feel warm fuzz all over as she continued to observe him, the slightly dimmed lighting doing nothing but accenting the lovely edges of his features.

As if he wasn’t astonishingly handsome already.

“ looks real doesn’t it?” she commented, her voice sweet-sounding and soft as she airily spoke, making him turn his attention to her, snapping out of his light daze with her simple question.

“I was just thinking that.” he said shaking his head. “ looks like someone lit a fire behind a glass window. And then the smell... it’s hard to believe it’s not real,” he added. “ Technology has gotten pretty crazy, I would have never imagined sitting down and warming up next to an imitation fireplace this realistic.” He admitted.

“I mean, yeah we had these, but not as convincing,” he explained.

“It's scary isn't it old man...” she said wiggling her fingers in front of him. “Technology is so scary,” she said adding tremor to her voice, continuing to giggle with glee as he stared at her flatly.

Raising an eyebrow at her with a teasing smirk growing, he waited for her to calm down more before speaking,

“ Oh...aren't you the one paranoid about that little movie?” he asked her, “ what was it...” he muttered to himself, humming, his right hand taking a light hold of his chin. “ Ah, Wall-e right? Robots are gonna take over the world and control it, right?” he asked her and she stopped laughing, piping down.

“ That was a kid's movie and you were paranoid about something like that, ” he said poking her cheek. “ So, I guess, technology is scary, ohhhh…” he said mimicking her earlier actions, taunting her with the same childish actions as she stared at him with a halfhearted glare.

“That wasn’t exactly it,” she told him.

Sure that little film gave her anxiety, but not for that very reason,

“ Besides, if we're talking about that... I wasn't so far off…” she grumbled, referring to the incident with the ‘peacekeeper’ Ultron.

The entire ordeal had been a complete nightmare for her.

While, of course, Large, menacing, reptilian-like aliens would be something to fear, nothing really took the top off as much as psycho killer robots, but that was just her opinion.

She began to nibble on her left thumb’s nail as she recalled the event, all with a cold shiver.

“- Quit sucking your thumb,” Steve chided, chuckling as she instantly brought the entire hand down, her hand fisted to her side as she glared at him.

“I wasn’t sucking on it!” she said with a short hiss as an exaggeration to the ‘s’ sound.

Ready to challenge her, Steve opened his mouth to speak, stopped by another masculine voice,

“ Well, well, well, having fun alone you two?” Bucky said teasingly, finally catching the other two’s attention.

“Don't you two know how late it is?” he chided tisking, adding on a small chuckle.

His attention was trained over the counter as his back faced both (f/n) and Steve, not letting them see his true, troubled face.

“-Jealous?” Steve said raising a brow, quirking up a partial smile, mindlessly teasing his friend.

“Maybe…” Bucky huffed, “ I wasn't invited out after all.” Bucky replied bitterly.

“You know, my two friends decided to hang out without me.” he sighed, “ How could I not be?”

“ We were just out for a stroll,” (f/n) said rolling her eyes, “You're such a drama queen,” she added playfully.

In response, he hummed and turned around with two mugs of a hot beverage, pursing his lips as he looked off to the side, “I always have a comeback at hand,” he warned her, “ But being the grown-up here, I’ll keep them to myself,” he said while walking towards the two.

He then handed each of them their own cups, going back to retrieve his own.

Curious, she gazed down to see her kitty mug filled with hot cocoa, brimmed with small marshmallows.

With eagerness, she smelled the sweet aroma up close,

“ Oh, Hot cocoa ! “ she chirped joyously, giving the man a closed eye smile, absolutely joy-filled.

‘That’s what that smell was,’ She mused, 'It was right there,' She added, having been bothered by the fact that she couldn't name it off the bat, and by then feeling silly for not recognizing it.

Bucky’s smile broadened as he nodded while seeing her obvious excitement,

“Yeah, I thought you guys would want some,” he told them. “ It's starting to get real chilly out there.” He pouted, not liking the cold.

He wasn't really a fan.

“Ohh, you even put the tiny marshmallows on it, “(f/n) muttered, “Whoa, A whole bunch of them,” she added with a grin, all while looking within the cup.

“Just how you like it, I remembered,” Bucky replied, watching her face bloom with happiness.

“Love you Buck, You’re the best,” she said looking up towards him in gratitude before she started to blow on her drink.

“ I only got two,” Steve said staring down at his hot chocolate, plainly glaring at it with a disappointed pout, because he couldn't help but feel robbed.

“There wasn't much to work with,” Bucky said shrugging, the words accompanied by a nervous laugh.

“That’s all we had, I swear,” He added.

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve argued back flatly, “After you practically chucked the entire bag into (f/n)’s cup, you didn't have any left, right?” Steve replied with accusation.

(f/n)’s face heated up, taking a look at both cups with embarrassment.

“ I'm sorry Steve !” she said immediately. “ We can switch if you want,” she said frantically,

“Or I can just-”

Both men stared at her with amusement, Bucky being the first to laugh, shaking his head as he spoke,

“That’s cute,” he muttered.

“ Its alright doll, no need,” Steve said shaking his head. “I'm just teasing!” he exclaimed, calming her down. “Seriously,” he added.

“ I wouldn't get so worked up over some marshmallows,” he assured her.

“And Besides, I know Bucky here made that especially for you,” he said smiling knowingly with a grin, denying taking any contents from the cup in her hands as he lifted up his free hand in a stopping motion.

“He likes to play favorites between the two of us. I’ve gotten used to it anyway,” he added.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” (f/n) said sheepishly, not believing him.

“No, I do,” Barnes said with certainty, his upfront admittance making her keep her eyes down to her drink,

‘Oh Bucky,’ She thought with a smile, shaking her head at his response, not sure if he meant it, or said it just to be a tease.

After taking a sip, she looked back towards Bucky, her eyes full of gratitude and amusement,

“At least you made some for yourself, “ she said with relief to which he shook his head,

“Nah,” he replied, making her stop drinking.

“ You didn’t make some for yourself?" She asked him, and shaking his head again, he answered her, “Nah, but it's fine.” He said with a dismissive wave.

“But wait what’s that in your hand,” she asked, pointing her finger towards his cup.

“Water,” he replied, “ I only realized afterward that I only made enough for two, but again, it’s fine,” He assured her, putting it down on the closest surface to him.

“Oh Bucky,” she said sighing, walking closer to him and leaving Steve's side altogether.

She took one of his hands, the warm flesh one, raising it up to touch the steamy mug in her hand. She pressed it there beneath hers as she gave him a small smile. “ Here, “ she told him, her hold loosening to let him take hold of the drink.

“But It’s for you,” he reminded her, being quick to return it, doing the same as she had by holding her hand to the mug,

“Really,” he said sweetly, begging her with his eyes.

" Half and half ?" She suggested, not willing to let it go.

"That's the closest I'm getting to winning, huh?" He asked her with defeat, and nodding (f/n) agreed, "Pretty much," she said, having gone unbeaten up to date, getting the last say.

'Only because it's you.

Only because you're so sweet.

Only because I love you so damn much,' The dark-haired man thought with a soft smile.

Bucky caved, the three people enjoying the warm drink as they talked, letting the night take its course.

Next : Little Smooch

23 notes · View notes

m-yien · 5 years ago

Text

DREAM PART ONE // THE FIRST DANCE

PAIRING: Mark Tuan x Female reader GENRE: fluff, romance, s2l RATING: none SUMMARY: Scenarios of boyfriend things with Mark Tuan. From how your relationship started, continued and blossomed into something you thought you would only catch a glimpse of in dreams. WORD COUNT: 1862 (oops i swear this is just a drabble)

masterlist | next

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s finally here!! first part which is a bit prologue-ish. i hope you enjoy it! pls tell me what you think :’)

“I’m getting married!”

Those were one of the first few words your older brother, Lawrence, exclaimed the moment his eyes landed on you at the arrival area of Incheon airport. It was confusing and amusing all at the same time while he animatedly talked about it from the parking lot to his apartment. Well, for one, you never imagined him having a girlfriend here. And second, he seems to be well adjusted and accustomed after living here for six years. You never thought he’d be able to do it gracefully.

You’re not that much aware of how your brother’s life is here in South Korea. You talked from time to time back home, but it was only about his restaurant business and nothing more. You’re not holding anything against him though. Definitely not. You actually like that he’s like this. Happy and contented. That’s why in spite of his incessant talking, your smile never faded away up to his apartment.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Lawrence screams for the fifth time with a little bit of a struggle as he heaves out your luggage from the trunk. He’s out of breath, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless. “You know what makes me happier?”

You blink in question. “You’re getting… married?”

He rolls his eyes as he leads you to the elevator. “Well duh. Aside from that, I’m happier that you’re living here.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, but he could care less. “I’m going to look for a place of my own. I won’t stay at your place that long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he just shrugs you off, hopping on the elevator once its doors opened.

“By the way, how long have you been engaged for?” You ask, suddenly remembering your curiosity over his mystery girl.

“A year,” he answers casually while swaying to the elevator music. He didn’t even notice your dumbfounded face.

“What?”

“A year,” he repeats. “We are close to the wedding date. Two months from now.”

“The hell, Lawrence. How come you never told me?” You complain and punch his arm, hard. “And what about mom and dad? Will they even get to attend their only son’s wedding?”

“Ow! That hurt!” He whines while rubbing his arm. “Stop being dramatic. They won’t be able to make it, but we’ll stop by home for a few weeks and have another small ceremony there.”

He’s unbelievable. He might as well be eloping. You just shake your head in disbelief and trudged along to his walking. You’re in no place to question his relationship and wedding over a petty reason, after all.

Once he punched the security code, the doors opened and lo and behold, your brother’s luxurious pad. Business must be doing great as you examine his drop-dead gorgeous space. You have to say, you’re impressed with his home décor. One good thing about him.

“Plus, the guest list is not what matters right now. What matters is your arrival is just right on time.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right. Right on time to be awkward around my future sister-in-law.”

“No, no, no,” your idiot of a brother wags his finger with eyes closed. And yet he calls you dramatic. “You’re just right on time because you are going to be part of the program.”

You should have punched his face.

***

About a week later, you found yourself out of place inside a huge ballroom dance floor. Just great. Maybe, giving a speech as a sister would have been more bearable. It didn’t cross your mind that your brother would want you to dance cotillion as part of the program.

“Hey,” a sweet voice suddenly stopped you from having violent thoughts against your brother. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Jina, the best angel your brother could ever ask for, greets you with a smile. The first time you met her, you were awestruck. She was the kindest and sweetest. Treated you like a real younger sister during dinner at her house (she’s a chef like your brother, but better). Your brother is lucky.

“No, this is nothing,” the least you could do is not let a stressed bride feel guilty. “I’m honored, in fact. It has only been a week since we met and here we are.”

Her giggle makes your smile widen. “It’s just a short dance. More or less than two minutes before our own first dance as husband and wife follows. So, really nothing to be pressured about.”

“Thank you,” you say in return.

“Come on,” she takes a hold of your hand, “it’s time to meet your partner.”

***

The practice sessions lasted three weeks. You were able to attend those while juggling finding your own apartment and working as a full-time director at a fashion company. It was difficult every once in a while, but then again, Jina is an angel; she didn’t mind your sometimes conflicting schedule. Even offered to go apartment hopping with you.

Those weeks went by quickly, you really didn’t have the chance to get to know the people you were dancing with. All of them were your brother and Jina’s closest friends and most of them were already official couples themselves. Your partner was not single either, it just so happened that his real partner is out of the country at the moment, she couldn’t participate. But, he’s nice. A bit stiff, but he can manage.

Finally, the countdown is over. It’s the wedding of the year. As your brother shamelessly declared and you can’t wait until all of this is over. Your partner is supposed to be here at the venue any minute now, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. You’re not worried though. You can most definitely manage with or without him. What you’re worried about is their wedding planner. She can get a bit antsy at times.

“Y/N!” And here she is. “I’m so sorry. We called him and he said, he’s going to be a bit late.”

Her effort to cater to you makes you smile. “It’s okay. I’m cool with it.”

She finally releases a breath of relief. “Alright cool. In the meantime, Mark will accompany you,” she rambles on and pull out her phone from her tiny bag, probably announcing something on their group chat. “It seems like his partner will be late as well. What’s with these people. Of all times to be late.”

“I know right,” you try to appease her, but you suddenly remember the unfamiliar name she just mentioned, “Who’s Mark again?”

“That would be me.”

The deep voice startles you making your head turn in a flash to see where and most importantly, who it came from. How do you even describe this situation? Like, how do you describe in the best eloquent way this fine and handsome man that is suddenly your temporary partner?

There is no answer.

None at all.

“Mark! Thank goodness. Please accompany her for the time being,” she grabs his arm and push him towards you. You startle, but remain composed. “You’ve met, right? Okay. See you later!”

She dashes off just like that without even hearing your answers.

“Hi!” He greets you with a smile, showing off his canines. “I’m your brother’s friend. We’ve met briefly during practice. I hope you don’t mind the me being your partner for now?”

Your eyes didn’t move an inch away from his face and you wish you could slap your face. You sure did meet. You’re just a tad bit ignorant to forget. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him until he made a soft hum to get your attention to him.

You’re quick to snap yourself back to reality and return his smile. “No, of course not.”

“Then, you wouldn’t mind if ask for your arm around mine?”

No, of course not.

The wedding ceremony begins.

***

The wedding has been amazing and even now at the reception, it’s still magical. Your brother and Jina looked so happy. Their wedding planner did an amazing job.

But it seems like she’s going to have a tiny bit of a problem all because of the untimely absence of your dance partner. He’s seriously nowhere to be found. You guess you won’t be dancing tonight. A missing pair won’t do much harm.

Or maybe not.

“You’re still good to go, Y/N,” she whisper shouts in excitement and position you to your spot in line. “Mark’s partner couldn’t make it either because apparently, she’s sick. So now, you two will be partners. Problem solved.”

You panic.

“Do you think we’ll be fine? I mean our positions from practice were different,” you state as matter of fact despite not being a well-versed dancer.

She nods and sends the master of the ceremony a quick thumbs up. Did she just ignore your concern? You gulp. When you said you’d manage without your partner, you are regretting it now.

It’s not that you have a problem with Mark. In fact, he has been sweet and kind back during the wedding ceremony as you sat together. Your problem is yourself, because you are more than sure you’re going to make an embarrassment of yourself in front of this perfect man.

You could just make an excuse and run away? No, that’s stupid. Your lips are getting bruised from how hard your biting it. Maybe hide under the table? Right! No, again, stupid.

You didn’t even notice the music playing and how out of practice, you started walking to the dance floor.

It was warm when you felt Mark’s hands holding your hand and waist. That woke you up from your trance immediately. He meets your confused eyes with a smiling one. His nod was your only assurance the he’s got you. He sure does as he guided you for the whole duration of the dance.

There’s something inside you that’s been tugging or maybe flicking. Like, someone’s tugging at your heart all the while your eyes drank every feature of Mark’s face. Your stomach swirled. But, not in a sick-I’m-going-to-vomit kind of swirl. It was a swirl that felt fantastic.

You’re starting to wonder that maybe you are attracted to Mark. Is that even allowed? Well, he’s handsome. You’re sure every single (maybe even taken) woman of this bunch had a crush on him. Your mind was running a hundred miles per hour and your heart was banging against your chest as if it wants to make itself obvious.

The dance finally ends and once you have made your exit, you let go of Mark’s hand in spite of your reluctance. It was a cue as well that it’s time to go back to your table. You should thank him though, you remember. But it seems to be too late as you already started walking away from him.

You contemplated. One more glance. Just one more. After this night, you probably won’t ever see him again. That’s why you slowed down your steps and gradually turned your head to see him again.

Maybe there was nothing more. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way you did.

Yet there he is, sparkling eyes looking right back at you.

DO NOT REPOST. M-YIEN, 2020.

#got7 #mark #mark tuan #mark tuan scenarios #got7 scenarios #mark scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 fluff #mark tuan fluff #fic: dream

44 notes · View notes

blueroseblaze · 5 years ago

Text

Wreck: Chapter 5

You were practically bouncing in your seat with excitement as Nero pushed your wheelchair down the hospital corridors towards the front entrance. Your arm rested in its sling, and your leg was propped up in front of you in your chair, making Nero have to navigate the halls more carefully as to not bump you into anything and risk further damage. On your lap rested the stuffed ‘get well soon’ bear that Patty had gotten for you during your stay.

You looked around happily smiling at the nurses that you passed by, one of them jokingly telling you, “I mean this in the best possible way, but I hope I never see you again.”

Your time spent in the hospital was long and grueling and painful, but your friends and the nurses helped you through it. You were thankful to have so many supportive people around you helping you through your trauma. They had made many visits throughout your time, short but sweet. They all led busy lives and couldn’t spend much time with you but that they took the time when they could to show up just to say hi and check on you was enough. And even then, you still had Nero who had all but physically attached himself to you.

You soon reached the front of the hospital, you looked at the big glass doors and windows, so close to freedom. Well, as free as you could be in a wheelchair for the next six weeks. Nero had parked you near the doors, telling you he was going to check with the front desk to make sure everything was good to go. You nodded at him and watched him walk away. You were eager to go home, your duration in the hospital has been extended because of your collapsed lung. The doctor reasoned that since your ribs were still broken it would be safer to let your lung fully heal before leaving the hospital.

You took in a deep breath, the soreness in your chest not nearly as bad as it had been thanks to the fresh pain meds you had taken earlier. You squeezed the bears arm to resist the little bit of pain that you felt.

You closed your eyes, and let your thoughts wander away from your pain. You focused on home. You own bed -probably messy and unmade-, the worn out couch in the living room in front of the TV where you shared many movie nights with Nico and Nero, the subtle smell of tobacco wafting from the garage whenever Nico forgot to close the door, even the leaky faucet in the kitchen sounded inviting now.

You felt a gentle hand rest on your shoulder, jogging you out of your thoughts. You looked up and saw Nero smiling down at you, no doubt as happy as you were to be out of this place, no mater how nice the staff were. He gave your shoulder a light squeeze and moved his hand to lightly caress your back before returning to his previous spot behind you to continue pushing.

“Everything good?” you asked, craning your neck to look at him.

“Everything’s great,” he responded, his voice laced with a genuine contentment, “We’re just missing one thing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked inquisitively.

“Our ride home.”

On cue you heard the rumble of a massive vehicle pull up to the front drive of the building. You turned your head away from Nero and through the sliding automatic doors you saw the all too familiar tan van pull to a stop.

The van was immaculate, as good as new, no visible damage to speak of. The passenger side was facing you and you saw the door was perfectly intact. No gashes through the frame, no broken window, no remnants of what had happened.

When the van had stopped you and Nero watched as Nico climbed out and made her way around the front and through the hospital doors. You felt a smile pull at your lips. It felt like forever since you last seen her. You had spoken to her on the phone, but this was the first time you had actually seen her since the accident. And you were so thankful to see it was the exact same Nico you knew. She was sporting her normal attire, ink on full display, red framed glasses resting on her freckled nose and her big hair puffed up as per usual. You were glad to see her put together after the description Nero had given you.

She walked up to you both, that big toothy smile she wore shining through, the bullet belts on her boots jingled as she approached you.

As if she forgot Nero even existed, she stopped in front of you, bent down, and wrapped her arms around you. As tightly as she could muster without causing you harm. You wrapped your free arm around her back held her close, noting the scent of her shampoo melding with her usual sent of oil, cigarettes, and iron. The hug lasted for quite a while until she eventually pulled away, smiling down at you.

“It’s good to see you, darlin,” she said, “How you feeling?”

“It’s so good to see you too Nico. And I’m feeling as good as I can,” you replied.

“That’s good.”

Nico finally greeted Nero, throwing a few insults and expletives his way. Nero just shrugged them off happy that at least Nico was a little bit back to normal.

“Well what are we waiting for?” you asked looking between Nico and Nero, “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah,” Nero responded, “Let’s go home.”

After a few more goodbyes to the hospital staff, you three made your way towards the door. Nero continued pushing your chair as Nico kept pace beside you.

The closer you got to the van, despite your eagerness to go home, you felt a sense of dread pool into your stomach. As Nero pushed your chair towards the vehicle you noticed your uninjured leg twitch and bounce anxiously. Nico kept your attention by talking to you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty and anxiety that crept up your nerves.

Nero parked your chair beside the side door of the van and opened it as Nico walked around back to the driver’s side door. The same sense of dread was getting stronger and stronger, but you kept the excited smile on your face s not to worry them.

Then Nero asked, “You ready?”

You looked to him and nodded, your grip on the bear in your lap turning into a vice.

Nero stepped to you, wrapping his arm around your back underneath you free arm, his other arm snaked underneath your leg as he effortlessly lifted you from your chair. Your left hand gripped his shoulder as he cradled you, sidestepping through the narrow threshold of the van door.

You felt your breath hitch as you looked around the inside of the van, all the loose knickknacks thrown about the carpeted floor, the worn leather couch and the small dining table nearby. It should have invoked a familiar homey feel, but you just couldn’t shake the dread in your gut. You noticed the van was surprisingly clean, even Nico’s familiar sent of tobacco was shockingly subtle compared to when you had last set foot in the van. Her workstation was uncharacteristically organized, and the jukebox seemed to actually be functioning.

Nero gently walked over to the leather couch and gingerly placed you on it, propping your leg up and leaning you against the arm, like he had been in your hospital room. He grabbed a random pillow from the other side and placed it behind you back.

“You okay?” he asked as he adjusted the pillow, fluffing it a bit before you relaxed against it.

“Yeah,” you said, less confidently than you intended.

“Okay. I’ll make sure it’s a smooth ride. If you need anything, I’m right over there.”

He subtly gestured to the driver and passenger seats. You nodded trying to swallow the lump in your throat. He walked away and your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer as he spoke quietly to Nico before she started up the engine.

As the van shook to life you felt your whole-body tense, your muscles tightened, and your breath caught in your throat. Your nails dug into the couch and your bear and you tried to breathe again. You inhaled and exhaled yet you still felt like your lungs were empty, slowly collapsing and suffocating you. You couldn’t stop your body from constricting around your middle, your muscles tensing and cramping as you strained in your seat. You tried your best to calm down, not wanting to worry Nero or Nico. You stole a glance over your shoulder towards the two of them, to see if they noticed you. You must have been extremely subtle, because neither turned. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and your teeth were tightly clenched, nearly to the point they felt like they would break.

Every pothole Nico wasn’t able to evade shook the entire van, the sound of the vehicle jostling covering up your panicked gasps. You wanted to get off, you didn’t care where, you would hobble the rest of the way home. You just wanted off this ride.

You didn’t even realize the van had come to a complete stop. Your heart still fluttered rapidly in your chest and your lungs still struggled to breath. But you soon felt the stillness of the van, and a pair of strong arms wrapping around you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a soft voice cut through your panic, “It’s okay, we stopped. We’re home.”

You blinked through your tears, still desperately trying to catch your breath.

“Breathe slowly,” Nero said, “In and out, in and out. Nice and slow. You’re safe.”

You managed to get your breathing under control. You followed Nero’s instructions and you could feel his arms tighten around you as your chest filled with air. You were still scared. Your mind still wracked with sounds of scraping metal and screeching tires. It was deafening in your head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I should have been with you back here, I wasn’t thinking.”

“I-it’s okay,” you stuttered as you continued your slow breaths.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Nero said as his arms moved from around you to under you. He effortlessly lifted you from the tattered leather couch and gently maneuvered you out of the van. The sunlight immediately warmed your skin, and you had never been so grateful to breathe in city air.

“We’ll get you situated and then we’ll go from there,” he said as he followed Nico to your front door.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc 5 #devil may cry 5 #nero x reader #dmc nero x reader #reader insert #dmc nero #dmc nico #dmc 5 nero #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfic #devil may cry fanfiction #my writing #my fanfic #my post

37 notes · View notes

coyotesongwriting · 5 years ago

Text

Damned - Ch. 1

Avengers - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Chapter 1 - Baghdad

Story Summary: When your mission goes sideways and you find yourself locked up through a case of mistaken identity, you don’t see how things could get much worse. Until you find you have no way to contact the team or even let them know you’re alive. One disaster after another leaves you facing a series of impossible situations, and your very life hangs in the balance. Will Bucky find you in time or are you Damned?

Series Warnings: Abuse, Torture, Murder, Death, Graphic Descriptions Of Violence, Death Row, Jail, Assault, Threats of Sexual Assault, Abuse of Power, PTSD

Word Count: 3588

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this one! It’s going to be a darker fic, and I can’t promise that there’s going to be a happy ever after for this one. In fact, the ending of this fic is up to you guys! If you want your vote to be counted on whether or not there is a happy ending, go to this post and cast your vote.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Series Masterlist

The best part of being home was waking up pressed against Bucky’s chest. In the mornings after you two were finally reunited after a long mission, you’d wake up facing each other, your face buried in his chest. The two of you would usually stay up late on those nights, unwilling to look away as you memorized the other’s face. Your missions could keep you away for months, and since your assignments left you so deep undercover most of SHIELD didn’t know you existed, the two of you could often go weeks without getting to exchange a phone call or even texts. No matter how long the distance, the two of you always seemed to make it work though and you’d been together for four years now.

The worst times were when you’d return from a long mission only to find Bucky had been sent on his own assignment. Unfortunately, it was beginning to feel like Fury was against the two of you. You’d come back from a two-month mission in Japan to find Bucky was in the middle of an assignment in Peru. By the time he was coming home three weeks later, you already had your orders for your next mission in Baghdad. This next one was going to be a tough mission, you’d be going completely undercover with no one but your partners, Maya and Kevin, to have your back and you’d be out of contact with everyone for the duration of the mission. If things went right, you’d be home in 9 weeks, tops.

Bucky’s soft moan drew you back to the present as he brushed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He was always soft and gentle in the quiet mornings before the day started. The early morning sunlight danced across his face, lighting up his gorgeous eyes. God, he always looked so gorgeous in the morning light, not that he wasn’t always handsome but these moments where it was all softness were your favorite.

You let out a quiet hum as you leaned up, capturing his lips in yours. His warm hand slowly began to run down your side, and you let out a breathless chuckle as he rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his hand rested on your hip, but before things could go much farther your stomach let out a harsh growl.

Bucky had finally come home yesterday and after catching up with the rest of the team, you’d retreated to the room you shared. You’d stayed in your room all night, not leaving for anything - not even to eat dinner and it seemed like your stomach wasn’t a big fan of that decision. He laughed as you groaned in frustration, throwing your head back.

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get some food in you.”

“Bucky” you whined dramatically, “Can’t we stay in bed a little longer?”

“I wish we could, but did you hear your stomach? I don’t want you waking the whole tower.”

You shot him a playful glare, smacking his shoulder as you rolled off of him to lay on your back by him, “It wasn’t that loud, jerk”

“Whatever you say. Now come on. Fury will kill me if I let you leave without eating.”

You threw your arm over your eyes, “Don’t remind me. I can’t believe we don’t even get 24 hours this time.”

“I know. I was going to wait until after breakfast to tell you this but… I told Fury that when you get back from this mission I’m taking a month off and if he doesn’t like it? I don’t care.”

Your eyes lit up and you quickly moved to look at him, “Really?”

He nodded but before he could speak you’d leaned forward, crashing your lips against his. His hand found its way back to your body and your hands tangled in his hair. You never made it to breakfast, or out of the room at all until it was time to leave. In the end, you didn’t even have time to grab something from the kitchen, already running late.

“Really [Y/N]?” Maya laughed, throwing a brown paper bag at you as you stepped onto the Quinjet.

“Do you own a clock [Y/L/N]? We were supposed to be in the air 15 minutes ago.” Maria sighed, quickly finishing the pre-flight checklist and getting the jet into the air.

You were taking the Quinjet over to Ohio, and then you’d take a car down to Houston where you’d fly out from. Bucky had tried to convince Fury to let him fly it back, but Fury had wanted no part in that plan so instead, Maria was tasked with accompanying you two as far as Ohio.

“Sorry, got a bit held up” you smirked, opening the bag Maya had thrown to find a sandwich and chips. Maya knew you so well. You set the bag down for a moment, and curled your hands into the shape of a heart, mouthing ‘I love you’ before you began to dig in.

“Sure you did. Long night?” Maya winked, tossing her mousey brown hair over her shoulder. She’d been talking about chopping it off for a while now, but then Fury had told you about this mission and she’d been forced to wait until after unless she wanted to deal with a wig - her least favorite thing. All she’d talked about lately was finally getting to chop it off and rock a pixie cut.

“And morning.” you chuckled, quickly meeting her high five.

Maya had been your best friend since middle school when you’d both been sent to the same group home, and you’d quickly become joined at the hip. Maya had been abandoned as a newborn and had nothing from her birth family, even her name had been given to her by her caseworker. No home ever come for her and instead, she’d spent years bouncing from foster home to foster home. You’d never known your father, and when your mom died of a drug overdose you’d ended up in the system with her.

Luckily, you’d stayed at the same group home for a few years, and when you were removed from there due to overcrowding, your caseworker had managed to find a foster home who would take you both. As far as the rest of the world was concerned the two of you were sisters, and even the others had quickly learned not to try and argue otherwise.

You’d been there for each other through everything, from your first heartbreaks to when Maya was struggling with her sexuality. She’d eventually come to the conclusion that she was bisexual, and when your foster home tried to say that wasn’t a real thing, well, you’d managed to get kicked out for threatening to beat them up if they didn’t leave her alone. You’d ended up separated for a few months that time until your caseworkers could find a new home who would take both of you. After that, you’d both vowed to never be separated again, and you’d kept true to that.

When you turned 18, you both went off to a local college, working full-time jobs to afford your degrees. You ended up getting your bachelor’s in Criminal Justice, and Maya got a bachelor’s in Computer Science. You’d both decided to minor in Russian. By the time you’d graduated, you were both slightly obsessed with the idea of becoming spies and had enlisted in SHIELD. It hadn’t taken the two of you long to rise through the ranks, and you’d quickly caught Fury’s attention.

He’d begun placing you on harder and more secretive missions until he’d finally made the decision to have you work directly under him. Since neither of you had families, your deaths had been faked and new identities with no connection to SHIELD had been forged. For safety’s sake, you both had codes and fake names for the SHIELD emergency lines so you could get through if you needed help, but they were for extreme emergency use only.

The flight to Ohio passed quickly, you and Maya trading playful barbs about your relationships. She’d started dating this sweet girl at the coffee shop down the road, and for the first time, you’d actually approved of Maya’s relationship. Maya had the unfortunate penchant for picking the worst people, but this girl seemed perfect for her and you couldn’t wait to see where things went next for the two of them. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if they ended up married someday.

When you arrived in Houston, Kevin was waiting for you. Kevin was one of your least favorite people you’d ever met. An arrogant prick was putting it nicely and he always gave you bad vibes whenever he was around, but he was good at his job. Kevin was a professional driver and an amazing translator, one of the best in the business, he had never been in a situation he couldn’t get his way out of. He was fluent in more languages than you’d even heard of, so on this trip, he’d be helping out with any translation or getaways that you required.

~~~~~

“Miss Allen? The car is here.”

You looked up from the book you’d been pretending to read to glance at Maya as she spoke. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her hazel eyes scanning the busy hotel lobby. In her long pencil skirt and long-sleeved button-up, she looked every bit the respectable assistant. Of course, her clothing hid the knives that covered her body. She carried a gun or two at all times for safety’s sake, but she much preferred getting hands-on with a blade so she usually carried at least 5 different blades.

“Thank you, Annie” you smiled politely at Maya and ignored the short glare she shot your way, knowing just how much she hated her fake name this time around. There’d been an awful bully in one of the foster homes named Annie, so Maya was pretty displeased when Maria gave her that identity. You’d already been in Baghdad for six weeks, so if everything went as planned today she’d be done with the name in another week or two.

Fury had received information that SHIELD weapons were being sold illegally and had needed someone to investigate, but since SHIELD was involved he had to be very careful who he put on the mission. No one at SHIELD knew you and Maya existed except for Maria Hill and Fury, so you two were the obvious pick.

The two of you walked to the car in silence, it was time to head to your meeting with Mr. Bahar who was selling the weapons. On this mission you were a businesswoman from Canada who ran a small agency responsible for the safety of celebrities abroad, come to buy some weapons and Maya was acting as your personal assistant.

The ride passed quickly, neither of you wanting to speak too freely in front of Kevin. He’d never been outright rude towards either of you, he merely liked to think he was God’s gift to the world and so that made him a miserable conversation partner. Thankfully, it was only a short ride to Mr. Bahar’s home where you hoped the deal would finally be sealed. As soon as he sold you the weapons, you could begin tracing them back to where he was getting them, and then you could just do some clean up before heading home.

Home. You couldn’t wait to have one month with Bucky, no missions, no trips, just the two of you getting to finally be together. This would be the longest time you’d get to spend together in one stretch in almost two years and the thought of it had you wanting to race home now. Hopefully, the mission would continue to go smooth, and you’d be back in his arms within two weeks.

Mr. Bahar was there to greet you as you climbed out of the car in the courtyard of his home. Bahar had signaled for Kevin to stay behind with the vehicle, but you’d quickly explained he was your translator and Mr. Bahar had frowned slightly but had waved him along as well. You and Bahar exchanged polite small talk as he led you through his home.

Bahar’s guards were everywhere, and you quickly began to count, memorizing their faces and stations as you headed in. His house was large, and the office he led you to was very carefully decorated. From the set up of the room and lack of any computer, you immediately knew this office was merely a decoy, not the place where he truly got his work done. Maya took a seat next to you on the couch while Kevin stood behind you, his face unreadable.

The meeting was boring, long ago the standard illegal weapon purchases had become so commonplace you could just about handle them with your eyes closed. Everything went according to plan, a price and delivery location finally agreed on. You slipped a bug into the couch as you headed out of the office. When the time to leave was drawing near, Maya asked if she could use the restroom. When they pointed her down the right hallway, she slipped off to go plant some more bugs throughout the house and find the real office.

The minutes ticked by as you made more small talk with Bahar, regaling him with tales of your favorite soccer games. It had been too long. Maya should have been back by now, and Bahar was beginning to grow suspicious. You could see the wariness in his eyes as he began to study you and Kevin, and you opened your mouth, preparing to offer an excuse for her absence. Before you could say a word, gunshots rang out through the courtyard. You and Kevin dove to take shelter in an alcove on the side of the home.

Bahar’s guards shoved him towards their SUV, but before they made it even a few feet they were gunned down, collapsing onto the sand at his feet. Bahar turned to you, his eyes wild with panic as he began to race towards you. He didn’t even take two steps before another shot echoed and the back of his head seemed to explode. He fell, his vacant eyes staring up at you as blood seeped out the gunshot in his forehead.

“We need to get Maya” you growled to Kevin, drawing your favorite pistol from its holster.

Kevin didn’t say a word, merely nodding his head as you lead the way carefully towards the side door a few feet to your left. Your heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through your veins, you couldn’t see the shooters on the roof, they were on the building directly above you and you could only pray they didn’t see you. The stars seemed to be on your side as you both managed to slip through the door before the sand exploded behind you with a missed shot.

The hallway you’d slipped into was thankfully deserted, and you nodded your head towards the archway on the left. Kevin didn’t argue, merely nodded his head and pulled his gun, heading off on his own as you headed right. He may be an ass, but he was good at his job and he would do everything in his power to find Maya, of that you could at least be certain.

You slipped down hall after hall, rounding corners quickly. The building was deadly silent, the quiet only broken by the occasional crack of a gunshot and you found yourself praying that it wasn’t your team getting shot. Your ears strained, searching for any sounds, a whimper of pain or the slow thud of footsteps to give you any clue as to what was going on.

The creak of a door to your left gave you just enough to move before the vase behind you shattered into a million pieces, the ceramic raining down to the floor with a loud clatter. You whirled to face your attacker, the shot ripping from your gun as you squeezed the trigger. The man didn’t stand a chance, the bullet piercing his eye and he crumpled to the ground.

You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you rounded the corner and came face to face with a heavy wooden door. You pushed the door open and the door fought back, something had fallen against the door and you struggled to get it open enough for you to slip through. You didn’t look at what it was until you were in the room, and once you did you felt the air fly from your lungs as your knees slammed into the cool marble floor.

Time stopped as lifeless hazel eyes stared up at the ceiling and a whimper tore itself from your throat as you studied Maya. You were frozen, unable to move for the longest time as you studied her. She lay in a pool of blood, her pale yellow shirt stained with the vibrant red. You could see the hole in her shirt, directly over her heart and knew that her death had been instant. The stillness that had overcome you was broken, and you set your gun down, scooping Maya’s body up in your arms and clutching her to your chest.

Thoughts began to race through your head, memories of everything you’d been through flying past and the promises you’d yet to fulfill seemed to fill your mind. She’d never get her happily ever after, she’d never get to go to the bar with you again. You’d never stay up late with her talking about love and loss and she’d never help you prank Bucky again. Realizations of everything lost in that one gunshot were all that it took to leave you sobbing, all memories of the warzone outside the door forgotten as you held your dead sister.

Her head lolled back in your grasp and you pulled her tighter to you, not even noticing the red that began to sink into your own clothing. You didn’t notice the door opening, didn’t register the hand on your shoulder until they tried to pull you back away from her. You shrugged out of their grasp, not even looking at them, not caring.

“We need to go. They’re killing everyone they find” Kevin’s voice was soft but determined.

You barely heard him speak. It was like being underwater, his voice muffled and distant. You were too lost in your thoughts, too lost in the memories to care. After everything you’d faced with Maya, with every battle you’d won and fight you’d lost, a mission as simple as this should never have been her downfall. Kevin’s hand squeezed your shoulder, and his repeated calls of your real name finally seemed to pull you out, and you realized for the first time that the low keening you’d been hearing was you.

“[Y/N]. We have to go. Now” Kevin tried to pull you away again.

You shot him a death glare, your voice breaking as you spoke, “No. I’m not, I’m not leaving her.”

“Maya wouldn’t want you to die too,” he growled. Footsteps were drawing near, and you were supposed to be in charge.

He swept your pistol up from the ground and began to pull you away from her body. You fought him, struggling to remain with her, only giving up once he slid your pistol back into your hand. Kevin had locked the door and as the door handle began to jiggle, he pulled you from the room through the window.

You managed to spare one last glance behind at Maya’s body, her head had fallen facing the window when Kevin had pulled you away, and her gaze seemed to be locked onto you. After a long moment, you tore your eyes from hers, wiping the tears from your eyes as Kevin pulled you towards the car. Dust began to rise in the air from the tires as you sped away, leaving Maya lying alone on the floor.

~~Five Days Later~~

“You wanted to see us?” Bucky asked, taking a seat at the conference room table, the last one in like always.

The whole team had gathered, and Fury stood at the head of the table. His face was unreadable as always, but there was an unexpected tension in the room and Bucky began to grow impatient, tapping his fingers methodically on the coffee mug in his hands when Fury didn’t speak right away.

Fury’s voice was steady as he spoke, “Five days ago, [Y/N]’s team went for a meeting with a man suspected of selling SHIELD weapons to anyone with the money. We lost all contact with the team after a shootout.” Bucky sat up ramrod straight, his heart beginning to race as Fury continued, “Unfortunately, we can now confirm that Maya was killed in the fight. We identified her body this morning. Kevin and [Y/N] are missing, and we have been unable to find or contact them. We’re doing our best.”

Silence fell over the room, everyone afraid to be the first to speak. No one wanted to be the one to ask if you were dead if they Fury thought there was even a chance you were still alive. A loud crash broke the silence as the mug in Bucky’s hand shattered, coffee spilling all over the table.

Find This Story On AO3

~~~~

Taglist: @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark@redfoxwritesstuff @brokenthelovely @collinsstanharbour @samsgoddess @imma-new-soul @firefly-in-darkness @wolfiegal98 @brynnloh

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #Fanfic #Marvel The Avengers #Marvel's The Avengers #marvels the avengers #Marvel's Avengers #marvel #Avengers #The Avengers #reader insert

24 notes · View notes

jawnjendes · 6 years ago

Text

no one can replace me | shawn mendes

university au SUMMER, shawn x goth gf/oc

masterlist | playlist

**let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

Days off were meant for sleeping in and being comfortably lazy. I slept until 2PM, far later than I ever slept before, and I felt anything but comfortable. The only productive thing I did was move myself from the bed to the couch in the living room, taking the massive comforter with me. Shawn wasn't home, so I was able to binge as much Grey's Anatomy in order to fill the void in my chest as I could. I really thought I would be able to sleep off the void…

I was lying on my side, a dead look on my face, but I was still invested in a particularly emotional episode. As sad as it was to see Jo Karev's life fall to pieces, it felt almost cathartic to cry over that than my own crap. I cried a lot these days, it was very unlike me. However, I still made sure to keep it private. I didn't want my boyfriend worrying about me anymore than he already did.

It was after 5 o’clock when I heard the lock on the front door jiggle, indicating that Shawn was home. I quickly grabbed the remote and switched to some 90s cartoon. The swift movement of reaching for the remote on the table was a deep contrast compared to how I’ve been all day, so it left me winded and fatigued. Although, the fatigue wasn’t just from moving or the cuts on my belly. I couldn’t even sit up to greet my boyfriend.

Shawn seemed unfazed by my potato state as his footsteps were constant through the apartment. His steps got closer, and I saw him standing by me from my peripherals. Wordlessly, Shawn placed a black gift back on the coffee table, directly in front of my line of vision.

The bag was shiny, and had purple tissue paper sticking out of the top. Just the sight of it caused my brows to knit together.

“Why…?” I asked, my voice unnaturally soft.

“It’s a peace offering,” Shawn explained, “and it’s also an anniversary gift. Come on, sit up.”

I didn’t need the help anymore, but Shawn still went to my side and supported my waist as I sat up straight. Then, I leaned over and grabbed the gift bag, pulling out the tissue. Inside was a red box with the white Nintendo Switch logo on. I pulled it out and discovered a pro controller, and my mouth fell open. This was the limited edition, white controller with the Princess Zelda design. I was rendered speechless.

“We hit six months a couple of weeks ago,” Shawn explained. “I think you were in surgery, so we missed it. And I know you love Zelda, and I know you’ve mentioned this controller before.”

“How many oversized bears did you have to fight to get this?” I finally asked.

Shawn laughed. “Well, it was the last one at EB Games. I saw one guy looking at it when I walked in, so I snatched it when he wasn’t looking.”

A small smile creeped up on my face as I stared at the controller in wonder. It was a sweet gesture, given the absolute bullshit that happened yesterday. “Thank you. I can’t wait to use it.” Then I placed the box back on the table. “I have something for you too.”

“You do?” Shawn smiled, pleasantly surprised.

I nodded and got up from the couch. I felt bad about how our sixth month was spent, even if it was all out of our control. Obviously, there was no time to get him a gift like what he had gotten me, but I did have something in mind. I didn’t think we would still be here for this to happen.

I found my black, tattered wallet and went back out to the living room. As cliche and cheesy as it was, I had to say a few words before presenting the thing. “I’m not gonna lie, my pessimistic ass and my mile high walls made me think we wouldn’t make it this far.”

“Good start,” Shawn replied, mildly amused.

“But,” I continued, “I’m glad I was proved wrong, so uh…” I unzipped my wallet and poked around through one of the credit card pockets.

“You’re giving me money?”

“Shut up.”

It took a minute to get the tiny item out of the tight pocket, but I got it. I presented Shawn with a red guitar pick. The label on it had scratched off long ago, but that’s okay. It wasn’t about the condition of the pick.

“A long time ago, I saw Rise Against in concert,” I told him. “It was… honestly, probably one of the happiest days of my life. I went with my cousin, and she convinced me to mosh our way to the barriers. We did, and I got hit in the face on the way, but we made it to the front. I had a nosebleed, and the lead singer noticed that. He actually saw blood all over my face, and he gave me his pick.” I paused. “That pick means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me, so I figured I should put those two things together.”

Shawn was looking at the pick in the palm of his hand as he listened to my story. The smile on his face only grew with every word, and he was beaming when he finally met my eyes. Then, he stood up, towering over me with open arms.

“I love it, and I love you.” He gently cupped my face and pulled me in for a kiss.

Feeling his lips against mine brought back certain feelings I hadn’t felt in a hot minute. My arms went around his middle, gently scrunching up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the skin underneath. Shawn smiled against my lips.

“Mm, so we’re celebrating our anniversary today?” I asked when we broke apart.

“I guess we are,” he replied, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers. “What do you wanna do?”

“Quiet night in?” I suggested, wiggling my eyebrows.

He thought about it. “Well… we spend a lot of time between these walls. How about a movie?”

That threw me off a little bit. Shawn never said no to spending the night together between the sheets. But he was right though, we needed to get out of this apartment. “Yeah, we can do a movie.”

As much of a homebody as I am, it felt nice to leave the apartment for a little bit. It felt good to doll myself up for a date night. I missed carving out my eyebrows and wearing black eyeshadow. I missed wearing my long, black cardigan and combat boots.

Shawn and I went to the theatre downtown and caught the newest Disney film, on his choosing. That was only because the last time we went to the movies, I made the choice. The last time we went to the movies was also when I started feeling pain, but I didn’t want to bring that up.

I stayed away from literally every food offered at the theatre, and not just because of my mandatory diet. Shawn didn’t eat anything either, so I wasn’t alone. That gave us more time to cuddle on the fancy reclining seats in the theatre. It was pretty much what we would do at home, except we were bound by society’s rules to stay quiet for the duration of the movie.

It was a lovely time. Going to the movies was the one thing to get us out of our heads for a little bit. We didn’t have to talk, we could just be with each other. The mood was light and sweet, and it followed us back into the car.

But, you know… light and dark. Things are always balanced.

Shawn turned on the radio as soon as he roared the car to life. Of course, of fucking course, the Halsey song of my nightmares (as opposed to Nightmare, which is a bop) was in the middle of playing. Things within me turned in a second, and everything lost its color. Half of me wanted to punch the radio into silence, and the other half wanted me to curl up in a ball and let the void take me away. Luca’s words came out of the tiny box in my mind and circled around me.

“I probably know you better than Shawn does. And you hate that, huh?”

My breathing went short again, and I could only hear that directly in my ears. I squeezed my hands into fists, trying to bring myself back to Earth.

“You’re not singing,” Shawn pointed out. “I thought you loved this song.”

I wanted to talk, wanted to explain. But we just had a good evening, and I didn’t want to cry all over it. When did I become such an emotional mess?

I shook my head in response.

He glanced at me every so often, but he kept his eyes on the road. “No, you don’t like this song?” he asked.

Once again, I shook my head.

“Okay, I’ll change it.”

The song stopped, and then Shawn reached for my hand. My mood kept on. My legs felt numb, and my hands felt tingly and weird. I walked carefully when we got back to the apartment, like I was going to dismember myself and collapse. I followed Shawn’s steps, bringing all the grey with me.

“I know you’re a quiet person,” he said as we entered the bedroom, “but this is just weird. Are you okay?”

This would be something I’d take up with Callie, but I was no longer her patient. That was on my own doing, so I couldn’t be mad. There were a lot of feelings built up in my chest, and I couldn’t name a majority of them. That was why I needed Callie.

I also needed to bring my spirit back into my body. Without thinking, I slammed the palm of my hand on the bedroom door. The loud smack! startled Shawn, but the sting caused me to make a face and ground me once again.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I felt like I was floating…”

He was just as speechless. “Uh… do you - should I…?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I told him, my eyes still staring off into space. “I mean, I do, but… I don’t.”

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“No?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes?”

“Okay, let’s start there.”

We sat at the foot of the bed. Shawn gave me an expectant look, but I was still silent for a moment. Perhaps I was just overreacting and being a little too dramatic.

“I had a conversation with Luca,” I started, suddenly hesitant. “Nothing bad, just… I don’t know.”

“What did he do?” Shawn asked. “I know you said not to worry, but I’m a little worried.”

I explained the inexplicably off putting conversation I had with Luca, rubbing my hands together sporadically. It was probably confusing without know our entire history, but that was a whole other spiel. They say talking it out helps, but I just felt like I was getting crazier by the second. I felt like I was just overreacting.

“Listen,” Shawn said when I finished rambling, “I don’t love that he knows you so well either. I definitely don’t love what most of your relationship consisted of. But you’ve known each other for a couple of years, much longer than you and I have known each other. He’s just trying to get to you.”

“I know. He loves to challenge me. Normally, I don’t care, and I’m used to it, but this one fucked me up.”

Shawn nodded. “Is that why you slept most of the day?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“I can tell when you’re sleep deprived now. Like, you wear a lot of black, but you look… comfortable and at peace with it. When you're tired, or sad... you look like the world ended."

He held his hand open on my lap, and I laced our fingers together. Was this a weird situation? Was it weird to talk about your ex to your current person?

“Can I tell you something?” Shawn asked after a minute.

“Yeah.” I had to stop myself from sounding too eager. At this point, I’d give anything to not talk about me and my shit anymore. I think I was thinking too hard about this whole thing.

He shifted a little bit, the way one does when they’re about to drop some scalding tea. “When I was seventeen, I dated this girl. Well, I thought I was dating her. She asked me to be her boyfriend, but the only time we spent together was in the backseat of her car, or at her house when her parents weren’t home. She really didn’t want much from me, apart from the obvious.”

“She was playing you,” I replied.

“And I one hundred percent knew it,” Shawn added with a chuckle. “But I really liked her, so I let her do what she wanted. I guess you could say that’s one reason why I was never in a serious, stable relationship until now. It’s like you say, I couldn’t trust anyone.”

That was certainly a side of Shawn I hadn’t heard of. He told me he didn’t have much experience with his love life. Then, I found out he slept around much like I did. Now, I found out he had his own version of Luca. Why was I labeled the mysterious one?

“How come you never told me this before?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “We all have things we don’t talk about. I’m sure there’s still things you haven’t told me.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s true.”

“So just know, you’re not the only one with a toxic ex. I know how you feel.”

At least he doesn’t work with his ex. At least his anxiety wasn’t intensified to the point of isolation and self destruction. Plus, it was easier for Shawn to open up than it was for me. His heart was in the right place, though. His big, warm heart made my stone cold one beat a little faster, I knew that much.

"You know how powerless you are being with someone like that," I said without realizing what I was doing.

"Yeah," he said. "You know they're not good for you, they only want you at their convenience, but you'd do anything for them."

Oof, he really does know.

"But," he added, "it feels so much better when you're finally free of them. And it feels fucking great to be in a much better place than they are. Realizing you deserve better is like waking up from a bad dream."

"It's like coming up for fresh air."

Shawn looked at me, eyes sparkling. He now held my hand in both of his. "Meeting you was like coming up for fresh air."

I smiled, and placed my one free hand over his. "I know that quote is from Grey's, you can't fool me."

"Hey, can I not relate heavily to the words of Derek Shepherd?" he said with a laugh.

He wasn't wrong. I related a lot of lyrics from his own songs, but I could tell him that another time.

_____

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @mendesromano @ilsolee @1-800-khalid-mendussy

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x oc #shawn x oc #shawn x goth gf #its a filler chapter lulz #soz if its a bit boring #things will definitely steam up a bit in the next coming chapters #also theres 2 chapters left in this series lmao oops

112 notes · View notes

recyclable-hoe · 5 years ago

Text

Dance With Me?

Third Person POV

Harley never minded going to business events, parties, or celebrations with Tony and Peter, especially after he and Peter started going out almost 7 years ago. Well, typically he doesn't anyway. This time however he was at his wit's end. This party just so happened to be at the tower. Harley didn't know if that was better or worse. Sure it made his life easier seeing as his and Peter's room was just above them and so they wouldn't have to worry about getting home, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to be in that room, away from the mass amount of people he was currently surrounded by. Peter was occupied this time, too. Seeing as Peter was much more invested in the social aspect of Stark Industries than Harley, he was with Tony chatting with a few other party attendees. Harley remained in the corner, drink in hand for longer than he could keep track of. He stopped counting after about an hour and a half. Peter, on the other hand, could have sworn they had only just started talking. Peter's brown eyes met Harley's blue across the room as he glanced away from his conversation briefly. Harley manages to muster enough energy to shoot the younger boy a small smile. Peter returns it, however, his smile is paired with an apologetic glance. Harley watches as Peter whispers something Tony before addressing the rest of the group he was with, and then suddenly turns to walk towards him. Harley pushes himself off the wall and wraps an arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter leans into his side instinctively and sighs contentedly. "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you all night" Peter finally mutters.

Harley simply sighs and mutters something of an "'s ok. I get it. Work stuff" and sips his drink. Peter grunts in annoyance and pushes himself off Harley's side.

"It's not ok though, Har. I've spent the entire night with a bunch of miserable old people instead of my wonderful fiancé. Now, how do you want to spend the rest of the night?" Peter looked up at Harley with the face that Harley recognized as his "no bullshit" face.

Harley sighed again. "Dance with me?"

"What?" Peter asked in disbelief. Typically he was the one begging Harley to dance.

"May I have this dance, Mr. Parker?" Harley held his hand out to the other boy. As if by magic, the music changed to a song perfect for slow dancing. Peter finally snapped back into reality and took Harley's hand.

They made their way towards the other people dancing and joined. Peter pressed his face into Harley's chest and wrapped his arms around the taller man's back. Harley put his arms over Peter's shoulders and placed his chin over Peter's hair. They stayed like this, slowly swaying, each completely enveloped in the other, oblivious to the surrounding party atmosphere for the duration for the song. As the song ended and the more upbeat tracks returned Peter pulled his head out of Harley's chest and instead looked up at him with his chin on his chest. "Hi" he whispers.

"Hi" Harley shoots back, a hint of a smirk edging its way onto his face. Before he could stop himself he leaned down and pressed his lips to Peter's in a soft, short peck. When he pulled back, Peter looked up at him with a soft smile. Before he could even consider going in for another kiss, a loud, almost shrieking voice came from behind them.

"Mr. Parker?" A middle-aged woman Peter recognized from the group he was chatting with earlier was staring at the two young men with a look of sheer horror.

"Good evening, Mrs. Miller. Is there something I can help you with?" Peter regained his composure within seconds, quickly stepping a little further away from Harley. He tried, as always, to remain as respectful as possible, though he could tell by the scowl on her face the woman was not going to do the same.

"Actually, yes. You could keep your PDA with this young man to a minimum." The woman rudely spat.

"O-oh I am so sorry Mrs. Miller." Peter quickly flushed, his entire face going red in seconds.

"You know, I had faith in you, Peter. Such a shame you turned out like... this" She gestured loosely at Peter and Harley with the hand that wasn't clutching her wine glass.

"I beg your pardon?" Peter asked, again, trying to keep himself together. This task was becoming harder considering Peter was beginning to catch on to what exactly she was referring to.

"I mean it's unfortunate that you're, ahem, with him." It was very clear what she was referencing now. Peter noticed how awkward she became when he asked her to specify, and he suddenly realized she was beginning to grow uncomfortable. A fact he could use to his advantage.

"You mean my fiancé? Mrs. Miller, I'm afraid you'll need to be more specific" Peter wanted to see how far he could push her. Harley found it hilarious watching Peter try to break this woman. As much as he wanted to jump in and call her out, he knew that would not only be just plain stupid but would also ruin the game Peter was playing, and he was enjoying the show too much to do that.

"I just meant you could get so much further in your career with a lovely lady by your side instead of, well, a man, Peter" At this point, she could tell Peter was intentionally pushing and she had every intention to push back, just as Peter had hoped.

"Angela, I'm sorry to tell you that I am not, at all, interested in any ladies. Are there any business matters you would like to discuss?" Peter bit back. He could see Tony close by, perhaps within earshot.

"Not any ladies? So you're a fag?" (I absolutely hate that word I'm so sorry it's for the sake of plot) She basically threw the slur in Peter's face. The use of the slur caught Tony's attention and he quickly excused himself from the conversation he was in and made his way to stand at Peter's side.

"What was that Mrs. Miller?" Tony wasted no time in throwing on an intimidating glare and shooting a look that could send anyone running.

"I- I was just having a nice chat with your boy about a decision he's made." Her demeanor changed the second Tony spoke. Her obvious attempt at dodging what Tony already knew was laughable.

"And what decision would that be? Perhaps I could help." Tony's eyes were dark. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was playing the same game Peter was, pushing until she snapped and exposed herself as a terrible person.

"Oh, well, it's just um, his choice of partner?" It came out as more of a question. Like even she didn't believe the crap she was spouting.

"Partner? Do you mean Harley? Harley is a lovely young man. Would you mind specifying what exactly it is that brought this on?" She was ready to snap. Anyone could see it. And they were starting to. As Tony raised his voice with each sentence, more and more people began tuning in.

"The problem, Mr.Stark, is that Peter is with Harley in the first place. He'll never get anywhere in life by being a homo!" Just like that, she snapped. She immediately regretted it, seeing the icy stare Tony cast upon her.

"Mrs. Miller, I'm afraid this kind of behavior will not be tolerated in my tower, especially not towards two of my best employees. The ones who will take over this company one day, for that matter. I'm going to have to ask Mr.Hogan to show you out." She stood there, dumbfounded, complying nonetheless. She scurried out of the room, Happy following not too far behind.

The "show" having ended, most of the other partygoers went back to their own conversations. Tony looked sympathetically at Peter and Harley.

"Why don't you guys head upstairs? Probably beats this lame party anyway." Tony suggested in a tone far from the one he was using just seconds before. He was softer, almost sounding concerned.

"Mr.Stark I-"

"Peter, first of all, what have I told you about the Mr.Stark thing. It's Tony. And I mean it. Both of you take the rest of the night to yourselves." Tony went full dad mode, not giving much room for debate.

"Thank you, Tony. Peter come on, am I really that bad to be around?" Harley spoke up for the first time since the whole situation started, grabbing Peter's hand, and pulling gently.

"Fine. Thank you, Tony." Peter smiled before being dragged to the elevator by Harley. Tony simply chuckled and turned back to rejoin the party.

Upstairs, in Peter and Harley's apartment, they decided they would watch a movie. Peter slipped into their bedroom to change out of his formalwear while Harley picked out the movie, or so Peter thought. By the time he had emerged from their bedroom, clad in the most adorable Hello Kitty pajama pants and one of Harley's hoodies, he could hear soft music coming from their living room. He makes his way down the hall only to see Harley standing in the middle of their living room, the same song that was playing when they danced downstairs playing softly from the speaker he placed on the coffee table. Peter stood in the hall, dumbfounded.

"Dance with me?" Harley asked for the second time that night, extending his hand to Peter. Without hesitating, Peter grabbed it, letting himself be pulled into Harley's chest.

"You're a dork" Peter giggled into the soft fabric of Harley's t-shirt before shifting to admire his fiancé's face.

Harley cut his staring short, however, taking this opportunity to kiss Peter properly, this time not being interrupted or shamed. When they finally separated, they continued on with their dance, continuing through the next few songs.

By the fifth song, Peter could feel himself drifting off. The soft music, gentle movement, and hypnotic rise and fall of his fiancé's chest as he breathes slowly over his heartbeat makes his eyelids heavy. He sighs contentedly and presses closer into Harley. The taller man takes this as a sign Peter is getting drowsy. Without saying a word he picked the smaller boy up effortlessly seeing as Peter weighs the equivalent of a paperclip, and carries him to their bedroom. Setting him down in their bed, he whispers that he'll be right back before dropping a kiss on his forehead and slipping back into the living room to turn the speaker off and put away the things he had set out for the movie they never watched.

By the time Harley returned to the bedroom, Peter had already taken his glasses off and gotten under the covers, seemingly asleep. Harley tiptoed to his side of the bed before climbing under the covers with Peter. A half-asleep Peter Parker rolled lazily to cuddle into Harley's side when he felt Harley lie down.

"Night Har," he muttered into the other's shoulder "I love you" Harley smiled softly at this.

"Good night Peter, I love you"

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

(word count: 1948)

Next chapter: Daughter

#peter parker #harley keener #parkner #parley #peter parker x harley keener

20 notes · View notes

crop-bound · 6 years ago

Text

🌸

They’re leaving; a flood of designers, models, photographers, and their loved ones begin the drunk and noisy descent from the pedestals their host had so graciously provided to the still busy streets of Zuzu. Two AM approaches as the celebration lays its head to rest, yet its hostess stands stark as she grasps every hand offered firmly, nodding to affirm and express gratitude to her guests as if she truly cared about their presence within her home. The evening had drained her of the energy she had for the show, but she makes sure not to show any sense of humanity in her visage as she stares down each and every guest with a golden gaze that could challenge any god.

It softens though, the stone that woman casts across her features, as she thanks the last guest — a man who she’s worked with closely. He leans in and she has to crouch to meet his height, his hand shielding his lips and her ear from a bottle green stare that dips in and out of focus as a wine glass half full catches its attention. He thanks his host, hand dropping to meet both of hers and hold them tightly, just as she did to the rest of the party, smiles, and takes his leave with a tipsy sort of grace as a glossy black coat is tossed over his shoulder. Silver hair falls into her face, and she leaves it there. There are no more guests to impress, no persona to uphold before an audience — just her, her brother, and one straggler.

Straggler is a rude way to put it she tells herself, shoulders dropping to rid herself of any statuesque tension. She offered to let her stay, just for the night, but she doubts that the other will allow herself to stay for the whole duration. The wine glass had been emptied during their exchange, one of many that were brought to the young woman’s lips as she drank in silence. Ranit — reaching with one hand to undo the braided bun that held an ocean of hair above her head, and the other taking a bottle of red wine from a glass table — makes herself known to the other just by clearing her throat. It seems to ring throughout the room — she always had a strange way with noise, gaining anyone’s attention with an alarming yet composed amount of volume. It works, it always does, and Ranit can’t help but to crack the smallest of smile into the marble that was her visage as the other jumps, juggling her empty glass between two startled and drunken hands as soft curses escaped once glossed lips.

Ranit raises the bottle as she approaches the startled woman, wiggling it slightly to show that there was still liquid in it, ❝There’s always more, Chérie — help yourself.❞ Now, Chérie was a sacred name only kept between three people — anyone else who replaced Cherry’s name with this affectionate term would be turned down immediately by one of the three. It happened earlier in the evening in fact; an older woman overheard an exchange between Cherry and Ranit’s brother, thought the nickname cute and elegant, and tried it out herself on the younger one. ❝That’s not for you to use,❞ His tone was like if honey could turn; so sweet and sickening yet bitter, ❝Find another chérie, madame.❞ He had coined the name for Cherry, and though it lacked originality and dripped of appropriation, the three hadn’t cared. She was their Chérie, and they were the only ones who could call her that. She wasn’t hesitant with the bottle, gaze drifting up towards Ranit as she sheepishly pries the cork out with the tips of her fingers. ❝...Thank you — ❞ ❝Do you need anything? A maid has laid out a lounge robe for you — it’s one of mine, so it shouldn’t reek of...❞ The corner of Ranit’s mouth twists — Cherry could’ve sworn it had, but between the drunken blur and Ranit’s general demeanor, it was impossible to tell. Still, the taller woman sighed, she could hear it — pointed like an arrow out the open balcony door to an even taller figure, though he was hunched over the railing. He flinched; he, unlike his sister, lacked such intense emotional and physical discipline, and he unlike his sister dared to smile as he looked over his shoulder at the other two. ❝Reek of what, darling? Of grandeur? Of — ❞ ❝Of nicotine,❞ Another arrow from her spitting tone, Cherry is the one to finch as it narrowly misses her and lands between Donn’s shoulders. He brushes it off with a smooth chuckle; attacks following the first are never as strong, and Ranit collects herself with a deep inhale, hawk-like stare shooting itself back at Cherry, who finches again. She can’t help it. Though the model was younger than Cherry by four years, she stood 6 inches taller and carried herself with the disposition of royalty — and her voice always commanded respect. Donn was different; he didn’t command respect, never had. Respect was never involved with Donn, he was too confident and self-involved for it. He was open to poking fun at his sister, to being a man who knows full well what he was doing as he poked an already provoked bear and speak down to it with a tone so rich with honey it made one sick. Cherry’s gaze follows Ranit’s, like green grass reaching for the sun, and her lips tighten as it falls on Donn. It’s brief, Ranit interrupts the other’s train of thought with another sharp inhale that’s contrasted by the softest: ❝Well, Chérie, I’ll be retiring for the night,❞ And she turns towards a spiraling marble staircase, heels that only empathized her height clicking with each step, ❝If you need anything, please let me know.❞ It’s almost dreamy the way the model speaks, and Cherry raises the bottle of wine as a sign of thanks as she smiles, ❝Goodnight, dear — ❞ She’s interrupted by her own stagger, the gentle laughter of her friend washing over her. The bottle is cold, it feels nice against her lips as she takes a swig of chilled wine. It’s her favorite; much to expensive for her to be drinking like this, but it brings her peace in this moment as she finds herself drifting towards the balcony as well. Cold air, cold wine, her mind is filled with thoughts of chill and ice and blue and — Joja. It brings a sour taste to her mouth - or is it the smoke that assaults her senses once she reaches the railing where Donn stands? ❝Don’t stand downwind,❞ There’s still that sweetness to his tone, but it’s curt, a cigarette almost burnt out is held gingerly between his teeth as he takes Cherry by the shoulder and shuffles her to the other side. She collides with his arm — far too short to meet his shoulder — and he laughs at her, ❝Unless you miss your execs breathing it in your face.❞ He’s met with silence as Cherry frowns at him before taking another large drink from the bottle, not breaking eye contact with the spindly man. He laughs again, taking the tab from his lips and breathing out the smoke. She’s halfway done with what remain of the wine before daring to speak to him again. ❝Did Ranit tell you...?❞ ❝Nah, Dave did,❞ A moment of silence washes over them; Donn takes a deep drag of his cigarette, now almost completely done with it, and pries his silver stare away from Cherry. ❝Tell me about it. What happened, your plans,❞ He tries to remove any sense of empathy from his voice, but the honey that dripped from his tone was gentle, catching the teary eyed Cherry’s own gaze, ❝You never liked that job anyway.❞ ❝...W-was it that obvious?❞ ❝Painfully so. What finally broke your back, camel?❞ Another wave of silence, but she’s relaxed significantly now. He knew of her struggle — the years of strife and suffering she endured to each her position, never directly from her, and yet... She threw it all away. She shuffles from one foot to the other, adjusting her balance while still holding tightly to the bottle, gaze dropping to the remaining wine, now warm, ❝...There was a mining incident. They refused my proposal, I’m tired of working for corporate.❞ ❝I thought corporate was your goal — ❞ ❝It was,❞ Almost too quick to retort, Cherry presses her forehead against the balcony railing and groans, causing a tight chuckle to escape Donn, ❝It was but... I don’t — I don’t know anymore,❞ She’s leaning into the railing a little too deeply; he’s half tempted to take her by the straps of her dress and pull her back, but instead decides to pat her shoulder instead, just enough to wake her up, ❝I found a letter in my desk. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with it.❞ ❝I’m sure you’ll figure it out.❞ ❝I mean, of course I can. I already have. I could leave tonight to the middle of nowhere, rebuild a farm, escape the city...❞ She sighs as if it weren’t achievable, and this ignites something in the pit of Donn’s stomach. He moves to quickly for her to register; a swift flick of his wrist as he hovers over her hand results in the hot ash of his cigarette to burn themselves into freckled flesh. It was an angry and impulsive action, and he takes a long stride back as Cherry drops the bottle over the balcony and cries in pain. He speaks before she can, ❝You already know what you want. You’d be an idiot to not act.❞ ❝You didn’t have to burn me!❞ She’s half crying and laughing in shock, stare flitting from over the balcony to Donn, ❝I dropped the wine! I can’t just leave everything — there’s pedestrians down there, Donn!❞ ❝They’ll move,❞ Curt in the way he spoke, Donn drops the crumpled cigarette over the edge of the balcony before pressing his hands together, pointing at Cherry, ❝Chérie, if you don’t act now. You never will. The chérie I know has enough sense to know a good opportunity when she sees one. You knew it was time to leave that shit hole when you quit, you know you have an opportunity,❞ He extends his reach and pulls Cherry by her shoulders once more, holding tightly, ❝The Cherry Hayden I know is no fool; if I had your instinct and that letter, I would leave this all behind.❞ ❝You would?❞ ❝No. My hands are too soft for farm work. That’s not the point,❞ The exasperation in his tone is tangible as he presses his forehead against her’s, ❝Cherry, if I were to start anew...❞ He doesn’t have to finish his sentence; she’s already taking a step back, hands brushing against his, done with the conversation. She’s at her full height now, brows furrowed with an understanding of what he had yet to say; the sudden intimacy already says volumes. There’s a tightness in her throat that she can’t get rid of; Donn returns to his smoking spot right in the middle of the balcony railing and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, nearly empty, retrieving one as he stares Cherry down. ❝...You didn’t have to burn me.❞ ❝I know, but I wanted to,❞ He finally turns away, taking a lighter from his suit pocket and flicking it twice before lighting the cigarette between his teeth, ❝Go to bed, I’ll call your cab in the morning.❞

#; journal entry | headcanons #| well drabble but uhhh idc! it's late!#| u can tell i got lazy and im not sorry bc im not good at writing WAHOO BINCH

19 notes · View notes

royal-writer · 6 years ago

Text

Cuddly Serpent

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Sulhadur spun the band around in his fingertips, examining the delicate piece of jewelry. The single sunburst gemstone set in the ring of gold appeared to be amber and the longer the Dragonborn stared, the more his mind played tricks on him. It appeared as though fire was moving within the swirling fiery colors, matching the flames that encircled the artifact and seemed to swirl into a point around the band.

It was beautiful. A lovely piece of craftsmanship by a talented maker. He wondered if Adela would have a good concept of the maker. But something nagged at him, the strangeness of it. He had blasted that mage with a full aura of fire, and this strange trinket, almost appeared to be…

He sat in silence for the duration of their time at base camp, studying the ring as his mind clawed for the answer to its meaning. How in the name of Bahamat was someone able to trap such magic in such a mundane creation? He would need to research this further.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The breezy winds carried away the misty clouds of puffy air expelled from their lungs before it could be made visible. Everyone was shivering.

Sul studied his hand, marveling in silence at the band part of the way down his pinky digit.

He should be cold. Even with the padding and clothing beneath his armor, it was a brisk day of howling winds and blistering cold. Even as the fire in his bloodline burned, he should feel something.

He didn’t.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I’m not coming out,” Essätha mumbled, her voice groggy into the pillow. Her entire body shivered as the walls and ceiling around her creaked and groaned beneath the surging storm. Snow was beginning to swirl frantically and the door that lead outside just down the hall audibly fought to stay upon its hinges.

There was a quiet chuckle, and a hand came to rest at the edge of the bed. Imprinting digits into fabric, the springs of the mattress gave a little to the weight forced into it. She peered out, catching sight of a wolfish toothy grin and yellow eyes.

Her own pair of soft butterscotch narrowed.

“What if I offered you coco?” Sulhadur teased.

“Abernathy already offered, after struggling to keep Rava from snatching it.”

“She likes her sweets about as much as you do.”

“I don’t want sweets,” Essie grumbled, pulling the blanket over head. “I just want to stay in my warm bed and not go outside.”

It was silent. She waited hopefully for the dragon boy to leave, but instead a hand urged against her side, shaking her.

“Ssssstop.”

Ignoring her whining, Sul insisted gently, “Here. I found this, fighting that wizard a few days ago. I wasn’t sure what it was, then. I think it’ll help.”

Screwing up her mouth, she poked her head out from the blankets to stare blankly at the ring offered in the scaly palm of the paladin. His clawed fingers curled outward further, encouraging her to take it.

“What is it?” she inquired cautiously.

“A magic ring. I thought about how the wizard seemed so unaffected by my flames, and it came to me: this is the reason why.”

He pushed it closer. “It’s a warming ring. I don’t know what it’s really called, but it keeps the biting cold away.”

“Is this one of those placebo things?” Essätha muttered with distrust. Despite herself, she reached out to carefully pick it up from his hand.

Sulhadur chuckled. “No.”

Not really believing him, she flipped it around her fingers, frowning.

“I’ll give you two some time to get acquainted,” he jested playfully, smiling broadly once more. “Take some time with it; feel its magic. I’ll let the others know to leave you be a while. When you feel comfortable, we can head out.”

Comfortable? Right. Like this thing was going to make the snow outside feel like a tropical paradise. She could slid on her shorts, walk out into the blowing snowstorm, and hold a margarita while taunting the others how it felt like a sunny summer day.

As she looked up; either the express thanks or snap at Sulhadur for his trickery, she spotted his shadow at the door, as it clicked shut behind him.

She stared down at the ring. A sneer curled her lip.

She slid the ring on her finger.

The sneer evaporated slowly, into curiosity, then wonder, as she felt the hum of the arcane whisper along her flesh and in the back of her mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pri’cha vibrated against her side as the wagon lurched along the winding road. The storm had passed, and the horses struggled against some of the snowbanks. As they jostled and bounced on another particularly large roll of snow gusted up against the treeline, Penimra and all his furs, blankets, and cloaks like a king’s favorite concubine fell over nearly into her lap, sniveling.

“We’re going to die!” he moaned, his voice stifled by the apparel swaddling him.

Grunting as he pushed and shoved the cart from behind to aid the steeds, Sulhadur let out a tired grunt. “We’re almost there, hold on!”

Beaming like a ray of sunshine, Essie reached out to squeeze the bug closer. She warbled a chirp like a late-night bug, singing to the moon.

She was warm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Warmth of spring was coming. She was grateful for the thaw; the springs running once more, greenery, the smell of nature coming to life once again. It had been a brutal, raw winter of skin peeling and ashen. A terrible season to endure so far north where it felt like the blizzards never wanted to cease.

They clattered along south along paved roads flattened with time and lined with fencing. Many of the group were dozing uneasily in the early light of the morning.

Essie inhaled and exhaled happily, clutching her hands together over her chest. The outline of the ring dug into her skin, imprinting the vague impression of its sculpted design into her faintly.

She hardly recognized the difference between the seasons, but the extra rays added another layer of heat across her bronze skintone. The major difference now; and the best one, was the lack of slush to slip in and ice hazards. But it was a remarkably lovely day, and she was going to embrace the coming change in the season with open arms.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The frost was beginning to disappear, leaving comfortable days and nights. It was a particularly balmy night as Essätha stepped over some of the party members lounging around the campfire for a meal, and made her way over to where the vast majority of them sat. She sank to her rear quickly, finding the nearest person to lean into.

With Sul on one side, Abe on the other, and Rava angled behind her, the trio exchanged a look.

“It’s a nice night, Essätha,” Abernathy observed, hiding a smile.

“Yep.”

“How are you feeling?” Sul inquired politely, taking a big bite of his juicy leg flank.

“Cold,” she mumbled reflexively. She stretched; flopping over to lean into Lord Amon as he tended to the flames. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat in response with some surprise.

The entire surrounding group locked eyes on her suspiciously.

“Aren’t you still wearing that ring of warmth?” Adela smugly piped up with a tone of mockery sass, curling her tail triumphantly into the air.

She locked her jaw firmly together.

“Essie, just admit you want to cuddle,” Ravamora taunted.

“Never,” she hissed. “I’m chilly. I’m only using you all. It’s my reptilian side.”

“But the ring-”

“Chilly,” Essätha reaffirmed, a flush of heat spilling onto her face that she awaited to fib and blame on the nearby fire. She was absolutely in no way going to admit she wanted to snuggle up with any of these noisy bastards out loud. Just because they made nice family comfort cuddles didn’t mean they needed to know. They were already getting a good laugh out of it now; snickering at her expense.

Having finished prodding the logs into a position that aroused the kindling into a healthier fire, the nobleman leaned further back with a sigh. His eyes slid over to her, and he cleared his throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he placed an arm around her carefully, offering an open spot against his side for her to curl into with a sigh. His face was flush now, too.

Her companions let her little white lie slide, going back to routine bickering and chatting as she nuzzled up into the warmth of Amon’s side. The fragrant notes of the wilds on his skin as she lulled into a drifting, lazy sleep.

#eci artz #Essie rw #barest hint of essamon

2 notes · View notes

spring-emerald · 8 years ago

Text

in the eye of the beholder

Summary: Kuroo’s developed a habit of watching Sawamura.

Pairing/s: (main) KuroDai; (very brief) KuroTsukki; (past) IwaDai; (mentioned) OiSuga; (hinted) Tsukkiyama

Notes: Character Death; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with (an ambiguous) Happy Ending. Attempt at Drama

AO3

Kuroo Tetsurou easily noticed him.

It was perhaps, because of the way he ironically didn’t stand out, among his easily recognizable teammates. But the way he carried himself with dignity –chin held high, squared shoulders, and measured steps– made up for his plain and indistinct look.

It was very telling of his assumed authority, that Kuroo instantly knows, even without affirmation, that he is the captain of their ‘infamous’ destined rivals.

His commanding presence got Kuroo straightening his back unconsciously, changing his posture from that relaxed, seemingly insolent slouch, to making use of his full height and his uncanny skill in intimidating others.

Kuroo smirks at the excitement that coursed through him at the thought of finally meeting them- him.

Later, he finds out that his name is Sawamura Daichi, and Kuroo thinks that it’s a name that fits him perfectly. His tight grip on Kuroo’s hand seems to be his way of making sure that Kuroo remembers it.

Not like Kuroo would ever forget about it, with how easily that information imprinted on him.

It helped that upon closer inspection, Sawamura is actually… handsome. It wasn’t apparent, like most conventional standards of beauty were, but it’s one that gradually grows on you, and one that you wouldn’t get tired of looking at. It delighted Kuroo even more, to know that beneath Sawamura’s rather good-looking and composed exterior, is a boy who’s competitive; always ready to take on any challenge, be it in the form of a cheeky, cunning rival captain.

Sawamura Daichi may not be easily noticeable (to other people, that is), but he does make sure that he’s unforgettable.

Kuroo’s developed a habit of watching Sawamura.

By now, he’s got a working catalogue of different things about him. Like how he looks over his teammates, with a soft, fond glimmer in his eyes, even as he shakes his head at their latest antics; his sharp focus when it comes to watching the ball; the steely determination that sets on his face before the beginning of every match, or when he reminds his team to get the point back when the opponents gotten an advantage; the display of muscles whenever he squats down or dives in for a receive…

And most of the time, Kuroo likes doing it- likes watching him, watching him that is. He hasn’t been called out yet, but he knows that he’s been doing it rather blatantly. But it’s one thing if he’s only had his fill once or twice, and another matter altogether when he thinks that it’s the only thing he’s been doing since the week long training camp had started.

Also lately, watching Sawamura has been getting difficult.

Not the ‘solve the given mathematical equation with complete solution’ kind of difficult, but it’s a more complex, philosophical (and dare he say, emotional) kind of difficult.

Lately, watching Sawamura has got something inside him aching, and it’s a feeling that Kuroo’s painfully unaccustomed to. He’s not sure if he’s old enough to experience heart burn, but he’s sure that couldn’t be good for his health. So as much as he likes watching Sawamura, he decidedly looks away.

It was when he looked away, that another caught his eyes.

Kuroo’s always thought blonds are very nice to look at. He can probably even say that he has a type. He doesn’t understand why, but there’s just something about them, and he’s not sure if it’s just a phase, but he’s never been one to deny himself of looking, since it’s something freely offered and harmless.

So, it’s no wonder that the tall, blond megane, Karasuno freshman, who he noticed to mostly just keep to himself, or be tailed after by ‘freckles’, promptly caught his attention.

Tsukishima was fun to rile up. And he’s actually adorable, despite not looking it, when he’s annoyed with Kuroo’s juvenile tactics, and annoyed at himself for actually caring to be annoyed by all of it in the first place. He’s interesting. It’s an actual bonus that he’s easy on the eyes.

Kuroo thinks he can do it. And he offhandedly did. It’s a fickle thing to do, but he’s a teenager, who probably should’ve known better, but didn’t. But he took his chance, and figured that Tsukishima will mostly likely walk away from him after dealing him with a scathing remark. And it will probably take down Kuroo’s pride a notch. He’s expecting nothing short of that.

But then, the unexpected happened. Tsukishima agreed with a shrug. Kuroo blinks then. He isn’t sure if the other is just humoring him or calling his bluff when he did that. All he knows is that he can’t back down anymore.

He thinks it’s alright, since Tsukishima is all sorts of pretty.

Pretty sassy, pretty mean, but pretty sharp and pretty challenging. He’s also the kind of hopeless case- the ones who try to hide their insecurities behind their smiles, (although in his case, it’s behind his sarcasm), that Kuroo had fancied himself of fixing; putting back broken pieces or making sure it will not have more cracks and all that.

It’s alright, he tells himself. Tsukishima is all sorts of pretty. Most of all, he’s pretty distracting, and Kuroo is fine at being pretty distracted, but…

But the thing is, despite the pretty illusion he had selfishly created for himself, he can’t help but still notice Sawamura in his peripheral vision- still shining, still bright; still pulling Kuroo’s eyes on him, beckoning him with his warm radiance. And Kuroo, despite willfully not looking, still aches, until it was too much that instead of looking further away, he finds himself looking back at Sawamura’s way again.

Now he isn’t sure which one is the graver mistake- that he looked away from Sawamura in the first place; desperately closed his eyes and chose to ignore how Sawamura stands out so clearly in Kuroo’s vision that the world blurs around him, or that he looked back the second time, only to find that it never wants to leave the sight of Sawamura ever again, and that even if he wants to, it burned at the back of his eyelids, refusing to be unseen.

Despite his distraction, Sawamura stays in focus.

Kuroo has long since accepted to himself that he’s a horrible person.

It made him feel like a heel, to have dragged Tsukishima in his mess. It truly did, and it’s the one he actually regrets more than the impending and much-needed end of whatever they had, if there ever was something between them to begin with.

Granted, it hadn’t been long. Their relationship, if they can even call it that, only lasted for the duration of the remaining days of the training camp. It wasn’t enough time to form bonds with each other, although he doubts that they both wanted to do that in the first place. And what’s happening couldn’t even be considered a break-up, because despite what he thinks he deserves to get, all he got was a shrug, followed by a caustic, but nevertheless true assessment of his situation, and words dealt harshly, aiming to blow hard on his pride.

Tsukishima cared so little about what happened, or maybe he didn’t even care at all, what with how easily he dismissed the whole thing; with how easily he dismissed Kuroo.

It’s clear to both of them that this event will be something they will easily leave behind and gladly forget. And it’s all and well for Kuroo, because it eased some of his guilt. But he’s a learned a lesson he will not forget.

(There’s a short and rare moment of vulnerability in which Tsukishima admitted why he accepted in the first place. Birds of a feather, flock together after all. He tried to be as vague as he could, but there was enough honesty in his eyes for Kuroo to know that he’s telling the truth. When the blonds eyes trailed off to his freckled teammate and his stare lingered longer than when he looks at Kuroo, Kuroo understands.

And he was glad and relieved that things with Tsukishima never worked out.)

Things with Sawamura, however, is a different matter altogether, but this one, he’s not glad for not working out. It’s even more regretful because Kuroo feels that he’s running out of time. He doesn’t know when- if they’ll meet each other again. He doesn’t know when- if he’ll still have a chance.

But then he supposes that it’s better. Maybe it’s meant to be this way. Maybe it’s supposed to be like this, so that it will be easier. Kuroo will carry this regret, of things ending when they weren’t even given a chance to begin, because he was a coward to do so.

He swallows the hurt and closes his eyes, and even then still sees Sawamura, and he smiles ruefully.

When he opens them, he doesn’t feel even a bit better.

Its karmic retribution, Kuroo is sure of it. There’s no other explanation except that this is his punishment for wanting to look away from the first place. This is what he gets for being willfully blind.

Because of course, just as when he decided to see the world differently, to look at things more carefully, karma brings Sawamura Daichi back in his life.

It isn’t enough that they go to the same university, they had to be in the same dorm building too. He supposes he still has some luck (or is it a lack thereof?) that Sawamura isn’t staying in the room across his, but on the second floor of the building.

(He’s not sure if he wants to scorn karma, or thank it.)

So now, he’s back to doing what he always does whenever Sawamura is involved: he watches him. It had been really easy to pick up on the old habit.

Besides, it hasn’t really been that long, since they last saw each other. Only a few months after Nationals. But seeing him again, sends a rush of warmth in Kuroo’s chest and that’s when he understands that he actually missed Sawamura. The rush of warmth in his chest at his admittance, attested to that.

Kuroo’s glad that there aren’t many changes about him. He’s presence is still commanding; his smile is still warm; he still banters effortlessly with Kuroo; he still makes Kuroo ache for him.

He still can’t take his eyes away from Sawamura.

And it is because of that, that he noticed something different about Sawamura. Particularly in his eyes. It’s always… twinkling.

He vaguely remembers noticing it, when they faced each other, when they shook hands in front of the National’s audience, for their first official (destined) match. Kuroo thinks it’s unusual to find Sawamura’s eyes like that, but he attributed it to the reason that was most logical for him at that time. They’re playing against each other, at Nationals, no less. It’s a culmination of theirs and their teams’ mutual dreams. So it’s no wonder Sawamura’s eyes are like that.

(He thinks he has the same twinkling quality in his too.)

It is only now that he finds out that it wasn’t because of the thrill of facing against each other.

The reason why Kuroo could see stars in Sawamura’s eyes; why his smiles are easily given now; why he catches Sawamura looking dreamily, spending his idle moments in a place far-off, is because he’s in love.

Sawamura Daichi is in love.

Unfortunately, not with him.

(Kuroo still thinks he had the same twinkling quality in his eyes, that moment, which now seems like a lifetime ago. And he knows it’s also the same reason why Sawamura’s eyes are twinkling now too.

It’s sad that this one isn’t covered by the karmic retribution.)

For the life of Kuroo, he doesn’t understand why he’s irrationally annoyed with Oikawa Tooru.

True, they have gotten off the wrong foot when they first met, but that was all water under the bridge now. Oikawa gets whiny sometimes, but Bokuto’s far whinier, and he’s handled him just fine. Oikawa knows too much for his own good and he never misses an opportunity to use this against him, but it’s practically nothing compared to how much dirt Kenma has on him, and how ruthless he is when he goes exposing Kuroo’s vulnerabilities.

But, Oikawa was also the one to tell him that Sawamura is dating his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.

But that reason is still petty.

Okay, so maybe that’s probably why. He honestly didn’t want to hear about it. See, he has been trying hard not to let himself be interested with the man Sawamura is in love with. It hurts enough to keep seeing and watching him while always reminding himself that he’s lost his chance with him.

It’s going to be crushing to have to truly know and meet the person he lost Sawamura to.

But that’s Kuroo’s problem, not Oikawa’s. So yeah, there’s still no reason for him to be irrationally annoyed with him.

When he sees Oikawa run up to Sugawara, just as the other disembarked from the train that carried him all the way from Miyagi and envelops him in what probably is a bone crushing hug, something in Kuroo’s mind clicks.

It ultimately made sense, when after letting Sugawara go, he turns his attention to Iwaizumi and subjects him to the same treatment as well, one that he isn’t very successful at, and then proceeds to doting over him. Fixing his hair and then his clothes, then pinching his cheeks and generally being touchy, as if he was his boyfriend. Only after that, did he push Iwaizumi away from him, towards the direction of where he and Sawamura are waiting.

Kuroo feels, rather than sees Sawamura move forward to meet Iwaizumi halfway, and he catches a glimpse of the bright smile on his face upon seeing his boyfriend.

An errant, unreasonable thought echoed in his mind. It’s all Oikawa’s fault.

He shouldn’t have let Sawamura and Iwaizumi meet.

He shouldn’t have gone after Sugawara.

He should’ve stayed in his turf.

He should’ve hold unto his best friend, and developed feelings for him instead.

Then maybe Sawamura would have–

He promptly derails that particular train of thought, and feels shame wash over him for even thinking of blaming someone else for his predicament.

Besides, Sawamura would have what? Even if he hadn’t met Iwaizumi, or hadn’t developed feelings for him, there’s no assurance that Sawamura would fall for him instead.

In the end, he can only regret the chances he didn’t take; can only blame himself for the wrong moves he’d made.

He is left on the spot, standing still, hands clenched inside his coat pocket, as he ignores the urge to hold Sawamura back, to make him stay beside him. He focuses on the painful way his nails are digging on his palms, rather than on the hurt throbbing in his chest. He bravely puts on a smiling face, despite wanting to curl up and hide.

It’s not that Kuroo isn’t irrationally annoyed with Oikawa anymore. It’s just that he’s more annoyed with himself.

Actually, that’s not true.

Annoyed doesn’t even cover an inch of it.

The Sawamura with Iwaizumi he’s forced to witness is some kind of a religious experience, but a train wreck for his heart at the same time. Kuroo has long since known that to him, Sawamura will always be radiant.

But he wasn’t prepared at how dazzling he is at the face of love.

Sawamura is glowing. His face is so open and his lips isn’t tired of smiling. It peaks on his eyes- endless pools of sparkling browns; solely, fondly, focused on Iwaizumi, hanging unto his every word, drinking all his features.

Kuroo thinks it’s a disservice to just call it a happy face, because it is more than that.

He’s beautiful. He’s in love.

Kuroo forgets that he shouldn’t watch as closely as how he’s doing right now, for there are other people. It will be the most inopportune time, not to mention awkward, to have all his dark secrets and deep seated feelings of longing and hurting out. He is also aware that he should look away, because it hurts, dammit it really does, but he can’t.

If this is the most that he can see Sawamura look like that, then by all means, spilling dark secrets and deep seated longing be damned, he will continue to look, will continue to drink in all his features, despite the intense nagging of what was left of the rational part of his mind and the intense way of smarting of his heart. If he can’t have this and he knows he never would, then he’ll try to live vicariously as much as could.

Because contrary to what most people believed, that he’s a reckless, careless, risk taker, he does know his limits.

Sawamura Daichi with Iwaizumi Hajime is one limit he knows he shouldn’t cross at all.

Kuroo didn’t have the heart to deny that the two of them are adorable, in their own quiet way.

They’re not as exuberant as Oikawa and by default, Sugawara are, but theirs is more special- intimate. He feels like a pervert, watching them from the back, from the respectable place for fifth wheels to have.

He indulges himself and contents himself with watching Iwaizumi take care of Sawamura. He saw how he laced their fingers together, and how he brings it up to his lips and plants a kiss on the back of it. He saw how Iwaizumi tried to kiss Sawamura inconspicuously on his cheek, but he ended up nuzzling him instead.

Kuroo feels jealous, but he keeps on watching them. But he didn’t even try to imagine being in Iwaizumi’s place. He knows he doesn’t hold a candle on him. He didn’t have the heart to deny that Iwaizumi is good for Sawamura. He loves Sawamura. That much is obvious. He makes Sawamura happy, and really it’s all Kuroo ever wished for him.

Kuroo pauses his steps, stays on the spot, as he watches the man he loves and had lost, walk away with the man who loves him equally as much. He closes his eyes as he deeply inhales the cold, evening breeze. He thinks of Sawamura’s glowing face.

When he releases his breath, he also lets go.

When he opens his eyes, he feels a bit better.

Things always have a way of turning for the worst, especially when he’s not looking.

Sawamura is inside his room, they’re taking a break from studying for a shared class, when he received a phone call.

He glances down at it “Why is Suga calling me?” He frowns, but he grabs it all the same as he stands and walks to the window. Kuroo, who’s already leaning on the side of his bed, tipped his head backwards even more, letting it fall into the mattress and closes his eyes with a sigh.

Just a few minutes would be fine.

“Sugawara Koushi, that’s a really bad joke.”

Kuroo instantly opens his eyes and lifts his head up at Sawamura’s sharp tone. He’s frowning deeply, and he actually even looks angry. Which was unusual, because it’s Sugawara. He’s always had a free pass that not even Iwaizumi has. He doesn’t think Sawamura is capable of being angry at his best friend, but now, he seems truly upset at him and whatever he said.

Apparently, whatever it was, it wasn’t a joke. Kuroo startles when Sawamura sucked in a harsh, painful breath. His phone falls from his hands and lands on the floor, before he follows suit.

Kuroo’s beside him in an instant. “Sawamura, what’s wrong?”

Sawamura’s lips tremble as he lets out a shaky breath and tears fall from his eyes, and soon, he was full on sobbing. He was shaking so bad, Kuroo wanted to grab him just to make him stop, but he doesn’t.

Sawamura didn’t hear him, didn’t bother responding. All Kuroo can hear was the steady chanting of whispered ‘No…no…’ falling from his lips as he shakes his head vigorously.

Sugawara’s voice sounds far away, muffled and thick. Kuroo hastily picks up the phone to take over for Sawamura, and to ask what’s happening, but he didn’t have a chance to talk, as Sawamura’s anguished scream shakes the small room.

It was a noble way to go, Iwaizumi’s mother, who’s holding back her tears, says.

Kuroo knows it’s her way of convincing herself that her son’s death wasn’t untimely or senseless.

The child he saved is assured of her future, after all. Kuroo can’t say the same for all those Iwaizumi left behind.

It wasn’t just Iwaizumi’s future that had gone when he died.

He inadvertently took away Sawamura’s too.

Kuroo’s been tasked to keep an eye on Sawamura since then. And considering everything, he thinks that he’s doing a good job. At least, until now.

One of Sawamura’s classmate from his morning class came up to him to give the hand-outs given that day. Sawamura didn’t attend the morning class, and they all thought he’s just sick. Kuroo shakily thanks her, then shoves it down in his bag roughly as soon as she turned her back, while he frantically fished for his phone.

He tries to keep the panic rising on his throat at bay, as he speeds dial Sawamura’s number, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to hold it off the longer he’s not picking up. He’s about to drop the call and redial, when the line opened.

“Sawamura? Where are you?!” He demands, free hand immediately covers his other ear to block off the sounds from his surroundings, to try and recognize the sounds coming from Sawamura’s end

“I’m fine, Kuroo,” he says in a low voice, which didn’t sound anywhere near fine and didn’t answer Kuroo’s question at all. Kuroo has enough presence of mind to note that he heard someone talk from the speakers.

“Sawamura, please, please,” He’s getting desperate, probably looks one too, judging from the stares he’s been getting from the students passing by. “Tell me where you are.”

“Kuroo, you don’t–”

“Please, Daichi.” Kuroo’s pulling at his hair by now.

It also completely flies over his head that he’d just addressed Sawamura by his first name. But it had somehow done the trick.

Daichi sighs on the other end before he replies. “I’m at the train station. I’m going to Miyagi.”

Kuroo nods his head frantically, as if the sheer force of it would make it visible to Daichi.

“Okay, please wait for me,” he says, as he starts jogging out of the campus. The station is only a few blocks away, and he can make it if he runs fast enough.

“Kuroo– ”

“Please wait for me. I will not stop you. I promise. Just… just please wait, okay.”

Kuroo doesn’t wait for his response as he starts full on sprinting to the station. He keeps Daichi on the phone, despite not hearing anything from his side anymore, because all the sounds are being drowned by the wind whipping across and around him, his ragged breath, and the fast beating of his heart.

He arrives at the station in record time, and he’s never demanded for a ticket as hard as he did that time, but when he gets to the platform and sees Sawamura sitting on one of the waiting benches, he allows himself to sag his shoulders in relief, and inhale gulps and gulps of much needed air. He walks to Daichi, his loud panting giving him away before he even speaks.

Daichi regards him silently, in a detached way he’s been regarding everyone and everything since Iwaizumi died. It had been painful to look at those dull eyes.

“You didn’t have to come, Kuroo.” He says flatly. Kuroo swallowed the lump on his throat that has been there since he learned that Daichi’s missing.

“I’ll go with you.” And there’s no stopping him.

They’re standing outside what used to be Iwaizumi’s apartment. But as far as his sister is concerned, it still belongs to him, after she paid for the lease for another six months.

Daichi takes a deep breath before he fishes out his set of duplicate keys, and unlocks the door.

Kuroo doesn’t approve of what Daichi is doing. He thinks it still too early for him- for any of them, really, to be in here. The space Iwaizumi has left is still very much like an open wound- painful; jarring. But Kuroo holds his tongue, doesn’t say anything. He even tries to make his breathing as quiet as possible just not to disrupt the silence that surrounds them.

He doesn’t approve, but Daichi’s always been a brave one. Should he continue with this or not, Kuroo will still be with him, he won’t leave.

Kuroo will not leave him.

Daichi turns a little so look at him. “I want to be alone…”

Kuroo presses his lips in a tight line and exhales through his nose. It’s not like he can say no to that.

He’s slumped down on the corridor, with knees against his chest, arms curled loosely around it. He’s been staring at the opposite wall since he took up this position.

He had spent the first few minutes of waiting pacing, while alternately running his hands on his hair or biting his fingernails, worrying about Daichi. Worrying if he’s made the right decision to leave him alone inside Iwaizumi’s apartment, left to deal with the phantom presence of his former love, with his fragile feelings.

The sound of the doorknob rouses him from his stupor, and he immediately stands in front of the door, ready to meet Daichi after what seemed to be a really long time.

When he comes out, Kuroo instantly notices his puffy eyes and his tear stained cheeks. He was expecting it. What he wasn’t expecting was the look of mild surprise Daichi gives him, as if he didn’t think that Kuroo would still be here, would still be waiting.

It hurts Kuroo a little, to see that Daichi isn’t even aware of what he means to him. He mentally shrugs the thought off. He can lick his wounds later.

Daichi’s about to say something, but Kuroo already knows what it is, so he intercepts him by asking if he’s ready to go back.

Daichi slowly nods, but he’s still hovering over the threshold, just looking at Kuroo.

“Sawamura?” Kuroo asks and he sees Daichi blink rapidly, before he resumes moving outside pulling the door behind him, until it closes with a click.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he says quietly. Kuroo smiles gently and passes a hand in a front of him in a slow, dismissing gesture, and doesn’t say anything.

Daichi doesn’t have to apologize for making him wait. It’s Kuroo choice to wait for him.

No matter how long it takes, Kuroo will always wait for him.

Kuroo is grateful because he sees that slowly, gradually, they all are learning to move on, and he thinks that they’re starting to heal.

Especially Daichi.

Little by little, he’s gaining back the sparkles in his eyes, and his smiles are starting to become wider, and he does it often now too. When he sees something that reminds him of Iwaizumi, he looks at it with a small sad smile, instead of looking away, and leaving. He’s also able to talk about him too.

He has also learned how to rely on others again, especially in Kuroo. And Kuroo’s content with watching him rebuild his life again after his loss, and he’s glad that Daichi is allowing him to help. Somehow, it feels like their connection is being rebuilt too.

The feelings he has for Daichi, hadn’t been truly gone, considering all that had happened. And instead of going, it’s taking a stronger hold, a deeper meaning. He just doesn’t see Daichi in all his perfect glory, but he sees his imperfections as well, and that makes him love him even more.

He still doesn’t make a move though. He’s toyed with the idea of confessing, definitely; had allowed himself moments of reprieve where he imagines Daichi returning his feelings. He’s not even afraid of rejection, because their friendship is stronger now. He knows that he will not lose Daichi.

But despite all of the ways Daichi is moving on, Kuroo knows he’s still not ready.

And so he still waits. For a sign, or something. From the universe, or Daichi.

It’s the first time Kuroo visits Iwaizumi’s grave alone, a week before he’s technically supposed to.

For the past few years, he’d always come with Daichi, Oikawa, and Sugawara, and meets Iwaizumi’s family and other friends there to pay their yearly respects. It had been a somber event, the first year. The little girl and her parents also came, to thank him yet again for the heroic thing he did. They all watched silently as Iwaizumi’s father performed the ritual of honoring the dead, and they offered their prayers and left without saying much of anything.

But as the years go by, the atmosphere gradually gets lighter, and they all leave the grave with slightly less sadness.

Time really has a way of healing.

Kuroo came to pay his respects, of course. And he would still come, next week, as it had become a tradition. There’s just something that he needs to do.

Because, as it turns out, time also has a way of reminding Kuroo how long he’s been waiting.

Kuroo’s waited as patiently as he could. He’s waited for the signs, for Daichi to show signs that he’s ready, to fall in love again; to accept love again. But… despite being happier than he’s ever been since the incident, despite being happy for his friends, it seems that Daichi has resigned himself to being alone. It’s like he’s already resigned to the fact that he’ll never be loved and cared for again, by someone special, by someone other than his family and friends.

And maybe no one else can give the kind of love Iwaizumi had generously given him when he was still alive, but it doesn’t mean that he can’t be loved like that ever again.

It hurts, because it’s what Kuroo has been silently doing for the past few years. And maybe this is impatience, or maybe selfishness on his part, but he just can’t take seeing Daichi like that anymore.

Maybe there aren’t signs, because the world doesn’t just give it to you. You have to earn it for yourself.

Kuroo’s more determined in earning Daichi’s love than he’s ever been.

“Hey, Iwaizumi,” he greets in a friendly manner, as if he wasn’t actually speaking to a tombstone. “I hope your winning arm wrestling tournaments up there. Does heaven even have one?” Kuroo laughs softly at his own joke, before his expression turned more serious.

He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “So, I guess you’re wondering, why I visited you, and… I will not beat around the bush. It’s about Sawamura.” There’s a short, but significant pause.

“I- uh… I think you’ve always known or you probably have an idea about the feelings I have for him. I kept my distance, because I respected your relationship. More than that I… I saw how happy he was with you, and how much he loves you. And how much you loved him back.” Kuroo drums his fingers on his thigh, in an attempt to ease the tension.

“And I accepted that. You were a far better man than I am- than any of us will ever be. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t with me, because I’m content with knowing that he’s with someone better- with you. I still think like that, even now.

“But everything’s changed, when you… you know,” he gestures to the stone, then he shakes his head at, cutting his ‘conversation’ in favor of asking himself what exactly is he doing. He takes a few moments to gather himself again, before he faced the stone with a determined expression.

“What I’m trying to say is, I would like to ask your blessing,” his lips are trembling now, and there’s the tell-tale prickling in the back of his eyes, but he forges on. “I want to know if it’s alright for you, for me to love Sawa- to love Daichi.” The emotions he’s been holding back flow outwardly as tears.

“I know I can’t replace you. I won’t even try to. But please, Iwaizumi,” He pleads with a thick voice, as tears continuously pour down from his eyes. He bends forward and prostrates himself even lower on the ground. “Please let me…” he chokes, “let me make Daichi happy. Please let me take care of him.” He’s sobbing now, his shoulders are shaking and it didn’t even cross his mind that there might be other visitors at the graveyard, and that they could see him, but Kuroo couldn’t care less.

He feels a gentle hand on his back then, and Kuroo feels the hesitance of it, despite his miserable state. He assumes that it’s just a well-meaning stranger.

“Kuroo…”

A stranger wouldn’t sound familiar, and most especially, they wouldn’t know his name. Kuroo abruptly sits straight and comes face to face with a worried Daichi.

“Oh,” Daichi says pitifully at him, and Kuroo’s embarrassed to be found out like this, by Daichi no less.

He swears before saying “You’re not supposed to be here,” and he starts hiding his pathetic face away from Daichi, trying not to humiliate himself even further.

Daichi doesn’t let him hide though, as he cups both Kuroo’s cheeks and mildly guides his head to face him again. Kuroo instantly averts his gaze and directs it down instead of looking at him, as Daichi lightly swipes the tears away. Kuroo sees his chest rise and hears him take a deep breath.

“Kuroo, was everything you said true?” he asks in a soft whisper. Kuroo can still feel Daichi’s eyes on him.

He lets out a deprecating laugh. “Shit, Sawamura. You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he says, not affirming nor denying anything. He must really have a rotten luck.

Daichi is persistent, however, as he searched for Kuroo’s eyes, and does not let Kuroo look away when he got his attention.

He repeats his question again, a little desperately this time. Kuroo couldn’t look away from his intense brown eyes, compelling him to tell the truth. And so he did. He starts nodding his head first, still in between Daichi’s hands, before he responds with a string of garbled ‘yes’ as tears started flowing again.

He feels Daichi’s hands leave his face, then he feels his arms wrap around him in a tight hug. He cries on Daichi’s shoulders for few minutes, until he’s tired and more confused. So he pushes Daichi’s shoulders gently, despite not wanting to leave the comfort of his arms and looks at him.

Daichi’s face is initially blurred by Kuroo’s tears, so he blinks repeatedly to try and clear them. Once it did, he’s greeted by Daichi’s smiling face in stark clarity, his eyes are intensely affectionate and they’re focused on Kuroo.

Ah, he thinks. This is what it feels like to be finally noticed.

*wipes sweat of brows* Whew~ Thank you for reading! :D

#haikyuu!!#kurodai #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #kurotsukki #iwadai #tsukishima kei #iwaizumi hajime #oisuga #oikawa tooru #sugawara koushi #hq fanfic

78 notes · View notes

sodas · 8 years ago

Text

The Happy Angel

title: The Happy Angel word count: 4639 summary: Indeed, the man who fashioned the Happy Angel had hoped for him to be someone whom anyone could love. (A rewrite of Oscar Wilde's 'The Happy Prince'.) notes: Wilde's short story 'The Happy Prince' has come up a few times in Rebuild canon. (Images courtesy of @gladosdark.) The actual story bears some eerie similarities to Kaworu and Shinji's relationship, so... here we are. I'm sure this is a silly endeavor, but I had it in my heart to see it through until the end. My rewrite uses only the bare bones of Wilde's story, but I hope the intended message makes it to you. You can read the original story, 'The Happy Prince', here.

@ AO3, or read under the cut.

Overlooking the vast hollow of the GeoFront, poised against the shimmer of a lake, was the statue of the Happy Angel. His body shone with silver leaves, while his great wings were gold; his eyes were set with two deep rubies, and his chest bore a round piece of garnet, brimming over the low sweep of his robes.

He was deeply loved; indeed, the man who fashioned the Happy Angel had hoped for him to be someone whom anyone could love. 'Certainly, he has a beautiful face,' admitted the Doctor. 'He is sleek as a cat.' But when she confessed this, she frowned and sucked on her cigarette. 'Yet he is only a boy,' she amended, 'and boys are quite unwise.'

The Doctor's Assistant poured coffee into the Doctor's cup. 'If all boys were like the Happy Angel, I think I wouldn't dislike them,' she said. But she would have liked it even better if boys were like the Doctor instead.

'But don't you think he's just too happy about nothing,' said a man down in the GeoFront, speaking to himself. What made him happy was his guitar, and as the Angel had no guitar of his own, the man felt uncertain about the Angel's smile.

'Isn't he wonderful,' sighed the schoolgirls, 'don't you just want to marry him,' all except for one proud girl in particular, who didn't think she liked this commotion about the Happy Angel.

'There's something off about him,' she muttered. 'And who would marry an Angel, anyway?'

Now into the summer, a small but unremarkable Magpie was summoned to the GeoFront. He had come all alone, and felt he truly had no one in all the world. Upon his arrival a beautiful woman had offered to care for the Magpie, but the cage she set in the window for him had put him into hysterics, and the seeds she fed him hurt his belly. He might have stayed despite this, but on top of it all, she was so vibrant that it frightened him. So he flew out into the open.

As the Magpie wandered through the GeoFront, he listened only to any songs around him, and never to anyone's voices. He flew further and deeper into the city, until he realized there were no more songs for him to hear. 'Oh, what has happened now?' he said to himself, for he was often morose. He looked about and saw that everything was quite dirty, and the only nearby sounds were the clangs and rumbles of human enterprise. 'Who could ever sleep here?' the Magpie asked. 'Surely not me. I had better leave.' But when he turned he spied a little pool, and at the pool he spied a little Turtle-Dove.

He was surprised to see her there, and wondered at first if she might be lost, before he saw that she was taking her meal. 'How nice for her,' he thought, but just then he noticed that her meal was nothing more than a small and shriveled piece of fruit. The Magpie's heart could not withstand the sight of such a pitiful supper, and at once he whirled away.

Night had already come by the time the Magpie rearrived at the pool, but he carried with him a bag of millet seeds. It was not a large bag, but it was far less paltry than what the Turtle-Dove had before her. 'Wouldn't you like these better?' he asked when he approached her and set the bag at her feet.

The Turtle-Dove made no move to eat them, nor even to voice her gratitude, and the Magpie wondered if she happened to be rude. He recognized then that the other side of the pool was populated by more Turtle-Doves, who idled on that further shore like corks on water, even bumping into each other. 'Oh,' the Magpie exclaimed, now self-conscious. 'Would your family like some, too?'

'No,' said the Turtle-Dove, speaking for the first time. The Magpie felt even more skeptical of her manners than before, until she cooed, 'Thank you.' The Magpie smiled for the first time in a long while, and he wanted to reach out and touch her wing. He thought right away that he loved her.

'I will bring you a bag of seeds every day,' he told her. 'So you mustn't worry anymore. It's all right.' And true to his word, he never failed to feed her.

But after some time of his caring for the Turtle-Dove, a windy day brought a message for the Magpie. That evening the Turtle-Dove met him at the pool, like always, away from her relations, and she watched him hang his head. While she watched him, she said nothing, but there was a peculiar feeling in her breast.

'My Father has called me,' the Magpie said. 'First he called me to this city, deep within the GeoFront, and now he beckons me elsewhere. He commands that I meet him at my Mother's grave.'

'I see,' murmured the Turtle-Dove. She didn't know what else to say.

'I won't be able to bring you seeds while I'm gone.'

'Of course,' she murmured again.

The Magpie hung his head even lower, fluttering his wings with an anxious ruffle. Then at once he looked up to the Turtle-Dove's face. 'Won't you come with me?' he cried. 'We can go together, and we'll have dinner together every day...'

The Turtle-Dove said, 'No.' She meant to stay quiet after that, but could hardly help but speak again when she saw the Magpie's crestfallen face. 'You have come to this pool to visit me many times,' she said to him.

'Oh, I didn't mind,' the Magpie said, demure despite his sadness. The Turtle-Dove shook her head.

'All of the Turtle-Doves must come to this pool,' she explained, 'and all of the Turtle-Doves must stay here.' As she watched the Magpie search inside himself for something to say or something to do, the Turtle-Dove knew the Magpie could never understand. It felt like something was hurting her; but despite this she thought it must be for the best. She said, 'You should go.' And she said, 'Good-bye.' Then she flew off to stay with her kin on the other side of the pool.

'Oh, Turtle-Dove. Oh, Turtle-Dove,' the Magpie cried, and he left the pool. He thought his heart was breaking. But, after all, his father was calling for him.

So he flew through the GeoFront, desperate to go but afraid to leave. He flew in every direction. He must have looked quite strange.

Before long the lights in the GeoFront were dimmed for the duration of the night. There was of course no moon, and so there was little to see by: just street lamps. 'Well I can't go on in the dark like this,' said the Magpie, knowing full well it was an excuse; but he wheeled around looking for a place to stop anyway. Finally he came upon the lake, and at the edge of the lake stood the Happy Angel. The Magpie blushed, and he thought, 'It won't be a bad night if I can say here. Just until morning.' So he swept low and settled between the statue's sandaled feet.

Right as he was ready to sleep, the Magpie felt a large droplet land upon his body, and he nearly fell over from shock and disappointment. He ruffled the water away from himself, and tried to nestle down again. But there was another droplet, and this one hit him square on the head. 'Oh no,' he sighed, as he did commonly. 'The GeoFront should be safe from rain, but here it is, and I will shiver all night. How is this happening?' He shook himself again. 'I wonder if the Turtle-Dove will be all right in this mysterious rain. But didn't she choose to stay at the pool! Oh, I need better cover than this,' he muttered, and made ready to take wing. But yet another drop came down, and this time the Magpie looked up. He meant to spot the ceiling, searching for its somehow-clouds, but instead his eyes found the Happy Angel's face.

What he saw made him so surprised that he closed his wings and stayed put. The statue of the Happy Angel was crying! His eyes were overwhelmed with tears, and they flowed over his cheeks, dropping off from his chin and onto the Magpie's head. His silvery body looked sweet and shining even in the lacking light, and the Magpie felt as if he could share the statue's sorrow.

'Who are you?' he asked.

'I am the Happy Angel.'

'But you are weeping,' pointed out the Magpie, 'even with a name like that.'

'Yes.' When the Angel sighed, the Magpie noticed how much nicer it sounded than his own sad sighs.

'Why?'

'When I was alive,' began the statue, 'I was a boy, but I was unlike other boys.'

'Indeed he is quite unlike other boys even now,' the Magpie said to himself, not exactly critically. But he didn't want to be rude.

'I didn't know this, however,' continued the Angel. 'There were many Angels, my siblings. Our mother was great and beautiful, and we perched upon her wings, our bodies the size of her feathers. We lived with her at a vast bright ocean, singing songs and playing in the light. But I was the littlest of my kin, and they never let me beyond the shore. They warned me of war and peril. I never saw another creature outside of the Angels. I thought I was happy with that, but my siblings started dying. They perished one by one, each becoming stars and moons in the far away sky.'

'You can't even see the stars in this hollowed out place,' thought the Magpie.

'Now I am here,' carried on the Angel, with a voice like a soft familiar song; 'and now I see many creatures, Humans and Cats, and Turtle-Doves and Magpies. And I have heard about their war and peril, and every day I watch them, and every day I fear for them. Do you know how simply a creature like that can die?'

'Quite simply,' the Magpie said, uneasy.

The Happy Angel's face was still sparking with tears, but his ruby eyes were gentle. He announced, 'To-night, we have met for a reason. Far off in this hollow GeoFront, two children are living and dwindling away. A little girl is lying in bed, waning in her illness, and her older brother does all that he can to feed her. But a bird has stolen his coin purse, and he cannot buy her medicine. Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie, I beg that you take a ruby from my eye and deliver it unto the steadfast brother. My feet are intended only for this stone.'

'My Father has called me,' said the Magpie, 'and he is waiting even now. He means for me to meet him at my mother's grave. Perhaps you haven't seen it, but a graveyard is cluttered with gleaming headstones, and the ashes and bones of many ancestors hold communion beneath the earth. A grave holds a body. A body nests inside a coffin made of beautiful, glossy wood and lined with soft white silk. Many families burned many coffins, then picked through the bones and entombed them. But my Mother has no bones. There are no pictures and no ashes to revere. Seeing the stone at her grave is the only way I can know her.'

'Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie,' said the Angel, 'I ask only for one night with you, and for your services: please, the ruby. The girl's sickness has left her grey-skinned and bony, and it pains her brother to see her.'

'I don't know anything about sisters or brothers,' griped the swallow; 'I don't know anything about girls or boys. They only lie and disappoint me—and I know I will disappoint them, too.'

At this the Happy Angel looked so sad and so beautiful; but what added to his beauty is that he didn't seem disappointed with the Magpie, even after that. The Magpie thought he would do anything to keep disappointment off the Angel's face. 'My Father has called me,' he said again. 'But I will stay with you tonight, and I will do this thing for you.'

'Thank you, dear Magpie, sweet Magpie,' said the Angel.

The Magpie was frightened to pick out a ruby eye, but the Angel made no sound of pain or discontent; so the Magpie flew high and away, cutting straight across the GeoFront.

He crossed the lake and its diamond caps. He flew past the pyramid, paying no attention to the old man who watched the arc of his wings, having loved a Magpie himself. He passed a garden, sectioned off into rows of lush greens, and the man who stayed there late to tend the fruit. 'They're growing well,' said the man with his watering can. 'That's joy for you.'

Finally he came to the little home of the poor children. The sister lay in her bed, wheezing and whistling and wasting away. The brother had left the window open to try and ferry in fresh air for her, but he swatted at once at the Magpie when the Magpie entered the room.

'You again!' said the brother, swatting and spitting. 'I don't have anything more for you to steal. My sister is all I have left.'

The Magpie was quite alarmed, and dropped the ruby from his beak. It rolled onto the bedside table and gleamed. 'What's this? Is this for us? Why, I could buy all the medicine in the world,' cried the brother. He looked at the Magpie for a long time, and the Magpie looked back at him, and at last the boy held out his hand. The Magpie was afraid, but he hopped into the boy's palm. 'Well maybe a bird is better than I thought,' said brother to bird. 'You're a rightful fellow; I'll leave crumbs out for you.'

And the Magpie flew away.

When he returned to the Happy Angel, he felt very light, exhilarated. 'Don't you think it's odd,' he said to the statue, 'but I feel good that he held out his hand, and I feel good that I took it.'

'It is because you have made a friend,' said the Angel. They were both quiet for several moments, until the Angel asked, 'Have you anything else to tell me?' And so the Magpie spoke to the Angel late into the night, about many sad and wonderful things, until he fell asleep.

As he awoke in the morning, he felt a sense of dread and duty. 'To-night I must go to my Father,' he said; 'I must go to my Mother's grave.' He left to see the GeoFront one last time, for he knew not what his father might ask of him after he reached the gravesite. He passed the Doctor, who batted at him and sucked in smoke. He passed the proud girl, who was disgusted by birds. And he stopped in the evening to spy on the beautiful woman who had tried to give him a home. But he couldn't stand to see her weeping, so he flew off quickly.

The lights were again all dim when he returned to the Happy Angel. 'This is the last time I may look upon you,' he said, 'for now I am away, to see my Father, to see my Mother.'

'Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie,' said the Angel, 'I beg that you stay with me just for this night.'

'You said that before,' said the Magpie warily. 'And I stayed with you through the night, and I even ran your errand. But my Father has called me, you know.'

'I am calling you now,' said the Happy Angel, 'here and now, I am calling you.' The Magpie could scarcely breathe for the beauty in the Angel's voice and face and form. So the Angel continued: 'There is a boy who is waiting to go and meet his father. His father is fighting in the war.'

'Ah,' said the Magpie, 'the war,' and he felt quite cold. His own Father had many important things to do about the war. The Magpie had learned few things about his Father, but he knew this: his Father was merciless in all respects. Perhaps war suited him.

The Angel agreed, soft and sad, 'The war. This boy, he wishes to enlist into the soldiers' ranks, so he may join his father. No one has spoken to dissuade him, for his mother is dead. But for now he is too young. All he can do is send his father photographs of himself as he grows into a strong young man. Now you see, sweet Magpie, this boy has no mother; he has no money with which to send his father pictures. He sells newspapers, so he might buy himself bread, but that is all he has. There isn't enough left over even for sending a letter. Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie, will you not take my other eye and set it in his hands, so he may show his father that manhood is nearly upon him?'

The Magpie was shaking long before the Angel spoke of his other eye. The war, the boy, the solace of a father, all of these things made his heart and body quake. But as the Angel asked to be relieved of his remaining eye, the Magpie thought he might start crying. His voice was a whisper and frightened and shy when he said, 'I cannot take that final ruby. I couldn't leave you unable to see.'

'I have seen so much,' sighed the Happy Angel. He sounded quite content with that. 'I have been looking out this way for time enough that I don't mind if it ceases now. All I would miss to look upon is here, close to me, and that much is ample. Magpie, take the ruby, let the boy and his father rejoice.' The Magpie took the ruby and left for the soldier hopeful, all the while feeling like he would choke on the Angel's eye.

The boy was drinking from a tin cup, when the Magpie found him. The boy's face was dirty, and freckled underneath that, and the Magpie wondered if such a boy would really become a man soon. 'Is a father truly worth so much,' went muttering the Magpie, 'that the Angel had to lose his only eye?' But although he felt spiteful, he knew he was awful for it. The Angel had asked for this. And so the Magpie left the ruby with the boy, and made his way back to the Angel (which in his mind he had started to call 'home'). As he went to lie at the Angel's feet that night, he thought about the boy's yearning for his father. And the Magpie thought he might never need a Father of his own.

During the next day, the Angel was humming, and so it woke the Magpie. He did not get up once he opened his eyes. All he did, for what seemed like hours, was rest below the Angel and listen to his voice. At last he rose, and shook himself. The Happy Angel looked very happy indeed, despite his lack of eyes. 'Hello, dear Magpie, sweet Magpie.' The endearments sounded like lyrics in his mouth. 'To-day, to-day, you'll go and meet your Father, won't you?'

'Oh, no,' sighed the Magpie. He shook himself again, and then nestled against the Angel's ankle. 'The boy, from before, he can do as he likes with fathers and that's enough of that, at least for me. Angel, I'll stay with you for always, and I'll watch the GeoFront for you. I won't leave you alone without any eyes.'

The Angel's empty eyes, though void, seemed to be brimming. 'Magpie,' murmured the Angel, 'you told me so much about your Mother's grave. Don't you want to go and see it?'

But the Magpie set his head upon the Angel's marble flesh. He announced, 'I shall not see anything which you cannot also see. Angel, let's stay here; let's listen to songs.' And so they listened to the songs straining up from the GeoFront.

At last the Angel murmured to the Magpie one more. 'Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie, I beg you leave my side for now.' Immediately the Magpie began his protest, but the Angel, though gentle, was swift. 'I am far away from all the music, for I am far away from all the people. But before I died and rose up here, I heard many songs, and I know them by heart. The speech of human beings, though, is newer to my ears. They have special things to say each day, but there are things even I cannot hear. I have asked so much of you, dear Magpie, but I ask this of you now: go further into the GeoFront, and for once neglect the songs. Instead, listen to what every person has to say. When you return, tell me the stories you heard from them.'

'I'm not such a good storyteller,' the Magpie said. He felt uncertain of all of this. But the Angel told him, 'You are the only storyteller I need,' and so the Magpie went.

He flew past the pyramid. The old man was murmuring about the beauty of Magpies. The Doctor was lamenting the death of her cat. He flew past gardens, where a man was tending fruits as young. He flew past schools and heard the stories wavering between friendship and isolation. He flew past homes and listened to all things joyous and full of sorrow. At the end of the day, he returned to the Angel. His wings were tired, but his eyes were bright. The Angel knew this, though he could not see it.

'Angel! Oh, Angel. I heard so much I never thought I would. I will stay here and tell you everything.' And the Magpie spent the whole of the night telling stories to the Angel, who glimmered in faint lamplight with peace and adoration. When morning came the Angel asked, 'Which of these stories struck your heart hardest?'

The Magpie had to think about this. 'Struck it? That's a painful thing,' he reasoned, and so sought back to the most painful story. When he thought of it, he told the Angel, 'I flew past a kitchen window. Inside the kitchen was a girl, and she spent her evening cooking. Dutifully, she feeds her two sisters, but above all does she desire to feed the love of her life.' This was something the Magpie could respect; to feed and be fed is an important thing. The Magpie's heart was thinking of the Turtle-Dove, whom he had fed in the past; but more than once had the Magpie wished he could bring dinner to the Angel. 'Of course, he doesn't need that sort of thing,' the Magpie muttered, and the Angel continued gleaming. So the Magpie drew himself up to carry on his story. 'She doesn't have enough to provide for that love of hers as well. I saw her cooking soup for her sisters, but she cried over the pot for how she wished to feed her heart's great yearning. In that moment, I wanted to fill her kitchen with goodness. But I could never do something like that.'

The Angel was more radiant than the lighting of the city, and the Magpie could not explain what the Angel's rosiness meant. But the Happy Angel sounded happy indeed when he said, 'I think you could, and it would be a wonderful thing. Magpie... Dear Magpie. Sweet Magpie. I am asking something of you.'

Where before was warmth, the Magpie now felt dread. 'I won't leave you again,' his heart was saying; 'Don't make me do it.' But his mouth said, 'What is it, Angel?'

'Go to this girl,' said the Angel. The Magpie had known he would. The Angel continued: 'Take the garnet from my chest. Fill her kitchen with goodness. If you do this thing, you will surely be at peace.'

The Magpie was beginning to cry. 'Your last and beautiful jewel,' he moaned. 'I can't do it. Oh, Angel, I cannot take the last of you.' But the Angel was still shining, seeming as if there could be a sun in this deep place.

'Take the garnet,' the Angel said. 'Sit with me a while, if you must, but take the garnet to the girl.' And so the Magpie sat with the Angel, weeping gently and resting his head once more at the Angel's ankle. At last he rose up to the Angel, and took the garnet from his chest.

He flew once more through the GeoFront, but this time he heard neither music nor stories. The only thing his heart deciphered was echoes of the Angel's voice: Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie. Only that gave the Magpie strength enough to find the kitchen window.

The girl found the garnet some time after the Magpie left it. She gasped and turned quite red in her delight, and cried, 'I could cook a feast if I sell this; I could bring him dinner, and even enough for his sister, too.' The Magpie had filled her kitchen with goodness. But he did not see this joy, for he was again with the Angel, tucked between a marble wing and shoulder. 'Now you have no heart,' he sobbed, 'and I will never leave your side again. Angel, don't make me do it; I cannot do it another time.' But the Angel was calm, and his wing was soft, though it was made of gold and stone.

'Dear Magpie, sweet Magpie, that jewel was not my heart,' he said. 'My heart has settled at my feet these past nights. Without that piece of garnet, I will grow weary, and I will fall asleep: but I don't mind a thing like that, if you will sleep here with me for this final night.'

'This night, and all others,' the Magpie said. 'Will you sleep for long?'

The Angel had never slept before; never once in life, nor during his time as a statue. But he knew his first sleep would also be his final. 'When I sleep,' he said instead, 'I will dream of you.' And he mellowed so much that it became a slumber, and the shine of his body dimmed like a dying lamp.

'When you wake up,' the Magpie told him, 'we will hear more songs and stories.'

The Angel never woke, unable to do so without his garnet. But the Magpie stayed nestled against him, for he had truly meant it when he said he'd stay for all other nights. The faint music from the GeoFront did nothing to warm his body. He only longed for songs from the Happy Angel's lips. When the Magpie finally died, he was glad at least that his body would stay close to the Angel's.

With the heart and soul of these creatures dead, an Angel wiser than all other Angels looked upon their bodies. She saw the tiny Magpie in its dedication. She saw the statue of the boy who was not her own. Her eyes found them to be good, enough to be beloved, and she wished to hold them in her great white hands. She whispered to her darling, who lived at the edge of a pool, and told the darling to bring the dead things unto her.

The Turtle-Dove flew across the GeoFront until she reached the corpses of the Magpie and the Happy Angel. She touched them gently, and led them to the wisest Angel. Neither the Magpie nor the Happy Angel ever wept again.

#neon genesis evangelion #evangelion #kawoshin #fic tag #eva

6 notes · View notes