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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Meta)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Unclean Realm

Lan Wangji has a Louis Henry Sullivan moment on seeing the Nie family home, becoming enraptured by its overwrought monumental architecture after a lifetime of restrained good taste and single-story buildings.

He approaches the fortress with the expression of delighted wonder that he usually reserves for when he’s looking at the moon or at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is like, yep that’s a building, all right, but he supports Lan Wangji’s kinks.

Meng Yao tells them about the Wen Clan directive, and has what appears to be a moment of genuine, affectionate amusement at Nie Huaisang’s reaction.

Jiang Cheng kinda blames the Lans for inventing the whole “indoctrination” thing and for encouraging his brother’s disaster bi tendencies. Wei Wuxian responds by complimenting the Lan Clan, almost like someone who met his true love got some real value out of the instruction he received there.

(more after the cut)

One of the great ironies of this story is that Wei Wuxian sort of becomes a rogue Lan disciple because of his relationship with Lan Wangji. He relies on Lan temperament techniques, uses music as a primary cultivation method, has committed all of the Lan rules to his supposedly terrible memory and cites them on multiple occasions, and is an important mentor for the younger generation Lan disciples. Because Hanguang-Jun is just that good in bed.

Xue Yang in the background of this conversation is channeling OP’s church-enduring, school-enduring inner 10-year-old.

Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-Zun, appears, and couldn’t be more different than his brother. On first watching this episode, I saw him as a grumpy, sexy, very emotional leather daddy man who is quick to anger. Rewatching, I see someone who’s struggling with a growing illness...the resentful energy kind.

Nie Mingjue’s handling of resentful energy is very different from Wei Wuxian’s straightforward interest and acceptance. NMJ has a traditional cultivator’s view of it, regarding it as evil and as something to resist, while he is literally carrying it on his back. He’s like a secret alcoholic who is preaching temperence, and can’t find a way to be reconciled with himself.

At this point of the story, Nie Mingjue is keeping it together, but is under a hell of a lot of stress, and Baxia’s blood thirst is already maybe a problem.

The Yunmeng bros think that Nie Huaisang’s fear of his brother is hilarious, because they don’t understand the situation. They think he’s just living in a hideously toxic family dynamic like theirs, when actually he’s in a loving, sorta healthy, if parentless, family that is being crushed under a generational curse.

Compliments for the Yunmeng Bros

I’m not the first meta poster to notice how happy Jiang Cheng is to be praised by Nie Mingjue.

He never gets this at home. Jiang Yanli praises him, but in that watery “you tried your best” way that doesn’t really stick. Nie Mingjue’s praise really means something, because he is a fearsome warrior and stern authority figure. And this is a double compliment, because Nie Mingjue says he heard it from Lan Xichen, and agrees with it.

Let’s Make Terrible Decisions

Keep Xue Yang alive, says Wei Wuxian, and Meng Yao immediately agrees, although I’m pretty sure he would have proposed that even if WWX hadn’t.

So they do, not realizing that “kill him later” is never a good plan for someone who 1. super needs killing 2. has a whole lot of death-dealing skills.

Future clan leader Jiang Cheng notices how smart and talented Meng Yao is. Xue Yang finds it hilarious when the trio praises Meng Yao, possibly because their evil team up is already underway.

Boss’ Bed Warmer Son of a Ho

The constant insults toward Meng Yao are about his mom, but there’s another level of leering implication, that Meng Yao seems to encourage in his conversation with the soon-to-be-murdered guard captain.

Nie Mingjue elevated him way above his expectations, and he is ridiculously pretty, which has to create rumors. In the Nightless City scenes when he’s fondling Baxia and telling Nie Mingjue’s family secrets there’s definitely a sense of intimacy that’s not just “loyal retainer.”

I feel like maybe this whole exchange is a bit of theater designed to show Xue Yang something without showing it to anyone else. Meng Yao didn’t need to have this conversation in front of his prisoner.

Let’s Do Exactly What We Said We Wouldn’t

Once the younger quartet are alone with Nie Mingjue, Wei Wuxian crosses the room away from his friends and practically into Lan Wangji’s pocket, if Lan Wangji had pockets.

He has no pockets and also has no personal bubble any more, when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

We could make a weapon out of Yin Iron, Wei Wuxian says, completely forgetting his entire conversation with Lan Yi, apparently. Lan Wangji doesn’t argue with this idea.

Nie Mingjue warns Wei Wuxian not to try it.

I stabbed a man in Qinghe just to watch him die

Nie Mingjue is like the Johnny Cash of the cultivation world, carrying the weight of his poor choices and trying to steer the young folk to the path of righteousness. But--like Johnny Cash--his bad choices have made him really fucking cool, so he isn’t very good at deterring anybody.

Meng Yao Didn’t Come Here to Make Friends

Immediately after Meng Yao’s fellow Nie clan people call him “son of a whore” again, Wei Wuxian meets him, is nice to him, addresses him by his military title, bows to him, asks why he’s away from the party, and thanks him for his service.

But Meng Yao has already decided to make friends with Xue Yang, so Wei Wuxian goes onto his list of people that he doesn’t give a crap about except if they can be useful to him. Then Meng Yao goes to make out hatch a plot with Xue Yang.

I’ll Sleep On Your Roof

Meeting SongXiao seems to have done away with the last of Lan Wangji’s resistance to his connection with Wei Wuxian.

He hears a noise on the roof and, when realizing it’s Wei Wuxian, he smiles one of his tiny reserved smiles before heading outside.

When he sees Wei Wuxian drunkenly sprawled on the roof, limbs akimbo, wine on his chin and neck, mouth full of poetry about the open road, Lan Wangji gives him the most fond look imaginable.

Then he reluctantly leaves, with his signature “say goodbye, but only when he can’t hear you” thing.

They’ve both come a really long way since their first meeting. Wei Wuxian is openly and vocally attaching himself to Lan Wangji...but is not actually entering his space or asking for anything from him; he just wants to be near him, and wants to let him know that. “I’ll sleep on your roof tonight.”

And Lan Wangji just...loves him. Wei Wuxian is drunk, embarrassing, demonstrative, eager to make a hell weapon out of yin iron, touchy feely, and absurdly sexy. And Lan Wangji is pretty okay with all of that.

I Might Have Been Drunk

Wei Wuxian carefully avoids telling Jiang Cheng where he was last night.

Even if he did get blackout drunk, he would have woken up on Lan Wangji’s roof. And I don’t think he was as drunk as that. He just knows Jiang Cheng wouldn’t like the truth.

Wen Fucking Chao, Again

Wen Chao shows up to be annoying and boring. This leads to a pretty good fight between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu. Note that when the chips are down, Nie Huaisang stands with his Gege without any cowering. Almost as if he had hidden reserves of bravery, and is not as helpless as he lets on.

Wen Zhuliu isn’t styled to be super hot, although he’s certainly compelling, and in Dance of the Phoenix he looks good with sensitive-guy hair wispies. I wonder what actor Feng Mingjing looks like out of character?

BRB, adding a tag to my follow list

Battle Bros

When the fighting breaks out, the Yunmeng brothers are decisive and united, with Wei Wuxian giving orders to Jiang Cheng and JC following without hesitation.

I feel like if these two could have gone through a few big battles together, instead of being separated during most of the Sunshot campaign, their whole relationship would have improved. On the battlefield, they respect, trust, and understand each other.

The Pointy End

Nie Mingjue is holding his own against Wen Zhuliu, but he gets distracted by Meng Yao hollering “Xue Yang has escaped” and then shanking the guard captain right in front of him.

Wen Zhuliu takes advantage of the distraction to aim a very slow stab at Nie Huasang, and Meng Yao jumps in front to get stabbed on his behalf.

When the Yunmeng bros show up to help NMJ, Wen Zhuliu immeiately yanks Wen Chao back behind him and points his sword at Wei Wuxian. He absolutely sees these two as a serious threat. Considering that eventually WWX is going to kill Wen Chao while JC kills Wen Zhuliu, this concern is not misplaced.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao to stop being such a jerk, and Wen Chao menaces Wei Wuxian and gloats about the burning of cloud recesses. The burning, that is, of some part of cloud recesses that doesn’t include the library, the Jingshi, the main cultivation chamber, the rabbit warren, or Lan Qiren’s house, unless the Lan Clan is really really good at rebuilding things to very exact specifications.

In a rare moment of seeing Meng Yao’s internal thoughts, he is worried about Lan Xichen when he hears about cloud recesses.

The Yelling Part

Now we have the particularly nasty breakup between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao. It’s...got some layers. Meng Yao is cowering on the floor, but is not apologizing.

He never apologizes throughout this encounter.

孟瑤無悔 - Meng Yao (has) no regrets

This scene is amazing and excruciating to watch, even more when you know what’s ahead.

What the Fuck is Meng Yao’s Plan

On one level this is Meng Yao, manipulative sociopath, setting up a cover story for his aiding and alliance with Xue Yang. On another, this is Meng Yao, loving subordinate, being tossed aside by his lord because he dared to stand up for himself.

He uses the same “scout’s honor” gesture we’ve seen Wei Wuxian use to swear he’s telling the truth. Wei Wuxian is always lying when he uses this gesture.

I’m...not sure exactly what Meng Yao’s plan is, with all these chess moves? By stabbing the captain in front of NHS, he created an opportunity to plant a cover story about Xue Yang’s escape. He might be hoping that Nie Mingjue will forgive him and keep him on, while Xue Yang can stay in his back pocket to be used later.

Dry eyes? Try Visene

Or he might be intending to get kicked out, given his non-apology. In any case, Nie Mingjue is weeping during this encounter, and Meng Yao...isn’t. He is signaling distress in his voice, expression, and body language, but his eyes are dry up until the last moment, and even then they just glisten a bit. In a show where every actor is an expert at crying on cue, that’s got to be a deliberate choice.

Which isn’t to say that Meng Yao is faking being full of emotion in this scene. It’s just that the emotion isn’t necessarily sorrow.

What Does Nie Mingjue’s Head Think

Flip the view and this is about Nie Mingjue being betrayed by a subordinate, who has turned out to be a self-serving murderer. And on another level it’s Nie Mingjue being betrayed by his lover, who was just using him for advancement.

I rewatched the later episode where we get the scene as Nie Mingjue’s head perceived it, and he’s particularly brokenhearted and disillusioned from his head’s POV. In that version there is a telling addition to the conversation.

Nie Mingjue asks about the guys who were roasting Meng Yao behind his back. He asks, if I hadn’t come, would you have murdered all of them?

Um. No, dude. Of course fucking not. That’s what a patriarchal authority does. That’s the way an angry Nie Mingjue/Baxia team might solve a problem.

Meng Yao has to use subterfuge to kill his enemies. And while he super hates being called “son of a whore” it’s absolutely not enough to make him kill someone, with the risk murder brings. Likewise, being treated well isn’t enough to make him spare someone. Nie Mingjue totally doesn’t get this, because he’s been the patriarch of this clan his entire adult life.

And Here’s the Actual Problem

There is a betrayal here, but Nie Mingjue is not simply a victim. Whether it’s a sexual relationship or a non-sexual bond of affection, there can be nothing solid in Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s relationship within a feudal society, because it is fundamentally unequal. Even if they love each other deeply - which I’m not convinced either of them does - every encounter they have is tainted with power dynamics.

Meng Yao has been elevated by Nie Mingjue and quite probably taken into his bed, as well as being told many family secrets, but has not been given a new surname (like, for example, Wen Zhuliu was) or independent power. More importantly, Nie Mingjue has not used his authority to remove or punish the many people who disrespect his subordinate. Lan Qiren would have had all of those gossipy fuckers kneeling in the snow, and Wen Ruohan would feed them to his mosh pit zombies.

Meng Yao is a murderous little snake, but he is right to be angry with Nie Mingjue about some things, and his pursuit of his own agenda is understandable.

Well, That Was a Slice

Meng Yao leaves, hurt, with a dignified bow; just as he did that one time when his dad kicked him down the Carp Tower steps.

Take note, both patriarchal authorities: that is his way of saying “I’m going to murder you one day.”

Nie Mingjue sits with his broken heart, as we realize that we’ve only spent 20 minutes with this guy and we’ve gone on an entire emotional journey with him. This episode packed in a LOT.

Soundtrack: Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #meng yao #nie mingjue #my gifs #canary3d-original #the untamed meta #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed

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harryhooksgazebos267 · 4 years ago

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Broken Trust~ Part 15

Paring: Bang Chan x reader; Mark Tuan x reader(arranged marriage)

Genre: Mafia au, angst, little bit of everything honestly

Warnings: Cursing, mafia life shizzle

MASTERLIST

It had been about a month since you decided to go with Mark. Ever since then, he had been attached to your hip, barely giving you time to breathe on your own. Was it annoying? Hell yes but you had no choice but to just suck it up and deal with it. JYP and Mark started to plan your wedding more seriously and they were constantly asking you questions about shit you didn’t care about. If you weren’t marrying the person you wanted, why did it matter what the wedding looked like. There was one thing you were looking forward to though.

Wedding dress shopping.

Even if you didn’t care what everything else looked like, you could still look rocking in your outfit. Plus, it would be one rare occasion where you could be away from Mark. Even though he was hesitant to let you go without him. But in the end, you were able to convince him to let you just go with some of the girls.

Best and worst idea ever.

You see the thing is, the people who came with you were Irene, Joy, Seulgi, Jihyo, Sana, Yeji, and Lia. So half of them were with JYP and half on Stray Kids side.

Yikes.

You were kind of glad that you didn’t blow twice’s and itzy’s cover to red velvet or else that would have been real awkward.

AnYwAyS, you currently were trying on some dresses, in fact you were on your 5th one but none of them hit in the way that you wanted them to. Sighing, Sana suggest trying on the big ball gown dress that she had picked out, which you agree to cause why not. Might as well, right? As you turn around to go back to the dressing room, Jihyo’s voice stops you.

“Hey y/n, do you want me to help you try it on? I bet that ones gonna be a little hard to get on,” Jihyo said with a wide smile.

You give her a confused look considering you had just been having the bridal stylist help you the entire time.

“Uh yeah sure.”

Once you make it to your dressing room, Jihyo asks the stylist to go pick out a couple more dresses while she helps you. Once you’re alone, her happy demeanor turns into a serious one.

“I’m sorry to have to do this here but there’s literally no time where you aren’t by Mark or his yes men.”

“What’s up?” You question her as you step out of the dress you had on and stepped into the big one.

“Listen y/n, I know that you wouldn’t have just chosen to marry Mark willingly so I just want to know what’s up. If you’re scared that he’ll harm you or something you shouldn’t be! You’re under Stray Kids, Blackpink, Twice, and ITZY’s protection. We aren’t going to let you get hurt.”

“It’s not me that I’m worried about,” You confess after a few moments.

“What do you mean?” She questions as she zips up the dress.

“Listen, is there anyway that we could meet to talk later on tonight? Like at 10? And if you’re able to can you ask Blackpink to come too? Even if it’s just one of them that’s fine. We could meet in the training room and then go somewhere secluded to sneak bp in or something I don’t know,” You ask her once she’s done zipping you.

“Of course, are you going to be able to sneak out without Mark noticing though?” She questions while fluffing up the dress a little.

“If I say I’m going to train with you I think he’ll let me. I still don’t understand why he’s making me share a room with him though,” You state with an eye roll.

“I can’t even take a shit without him freaking out,” You joke causing Jihyo to snort a little.

“I bet.”

“Jihyo one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Stray Kids can’t know that this is happening though. Just because I’m willing to explain what happened to you guys doesn’t mean I want them to know.”

“Y/n,” She sighs.

“Please, I don’t want to make a bigger mess then I already have,” you plead.

“Fine but if they find out I putting the blame on you.”

Nodding your head, the two of you exit the room to show off the dress, which honestly wasn’t too bad but it still wasn’t what you wanted.

“Oh that dress is horrible,” Irene said absolutely disgusted.

“What? She looks stunning in it! Y/n, if you weren’t marrying Mark I totally would marry you,” Sana said with a wink.

Ah yes, your gay supportive queen.

Anyways, after about an hour more of dress shopping you finally were able to “say yes to the dress” which was nice. By the time everything was done, you were pretty exhausted and hungry.

“I’m starving,” Sana complained as you all pilled into the car.

“Sucks to suck I guess,” Joy said giving her a little shrug.

“Don’t be shy, stop and get us food,” You said causing Lia and Yeji to hum in agreement.

“Starve,” Irene said as she whipped out of the parking lot.

“Calm down speed demon,” Jihyo muttered.

The rest of the day went by as a blur. You didn’t really do much, you kind of just followed Mark around like a little puppy since, again, he very rarely let you leave his side. You were sitting in Marks office as he was looking over some documents. You were extremely bored so you kind of were just doodling on a piece of paper. Glancing up at the clock, you saw that it was 9:45.

“Hey Mark,” You call out softly.

“Yeah?” He responded, not looking up from the document he was reading.

“Is it okay if I go train with Jihyo for a little?”

This peaked his interest a little.

“Why?”

“Because if I have to sit in this stupid office one more second I think I’m going to die of boredom,” You whine.

“How long do you plan on training for?”

“I don’t know, probably a couple of hours.”

“Sure, go ahead, just be back by 12,” Mark sighs.

“Wait really?” You say with a wide smile.

“Yeah why not,” He answers matching your smile.

“Thanks Mark! I’ll see you later,” You say as you quickly stand up so you can change your clothes. Gotta make it more believable.

“Y/n wait,” Mark calls out, causing you to stop.

“I’m...I’m sorry for the lack of freedom you’ve had. I promise you that once we’re married things can go back to how they were before everything happened with him. I just want to make sure that nothing happens to you before then.”

You don’t really know what to say so you just nod your head slightly. Making sure he had nothing else to say, you exit his office making your way up to your room. You rip your clothes off quickly and throw on the first workout outfit you saw. You honestly hopped that all of Blackpink could come, it had only been a month yet you missed them so much. The thought of being able to see them again made you so excited. After looking at yourself in the mirror, you exited your room and made your way down to the training room. Entering, you were pleasantly surprised to find that the only person in the room was Jihyo. Usually the room was filled with people, usually young rookies, training.

“I just kicked everyone out,” Jihyo said nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it.”

“Smart move, smart move. So, are they coming?” You question, eager to know if she was able to message them.

“Yes ma’am, just waiting for the call letting me know that they’re here.”

“Gosh I’m so excited to see them, I’ve missed them so much.”

“They’ve missed you too. Everyday they ask about you, so does Stray Kids,” She informs you.

A bitter sweet smile forms on your face.

“It’s good to know they don’t hate me.”

“They’re more worried and confused honestly.”

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by Jihyo’s phone going off. After a quick exchange, Jihyo opens the back door of the training room and glances both ways to make sure no one was outside, after a couple of seconds, you see Jisoo, Jennie, Rosé, and Lisa enter the room, all dressed in black.

“Y/n, make sure the front door is locked,” Jihyo calls out.

You jog over to the front door, lock it, and make sure the windows are covered, Jihyo doing the same for the back door.

“Y/n!” Lisa squeals as she rushes over to you and brings you into a hug, Rosé following after her lead.

“Gosh I’ve missed you guys,” You sigh as you pull away from Lisa and go to hug Rosé, a large smile planted on your face.

“We’ve missed you too! We’ve been worried sick about you,” Rosé says with a sad look on her face.

“It looks like you’ve lost weight, have you been eating?” Rosé asks as she takes in your appearance.

“Yes I’ve been eating mom,” You laugh off.

“Well, you know why we’re here so you might as well tell us everything,” Jennie comments coldly, Jisoo not saying anything.

Big yikes.

You nod your head while you signal for them all to take a seat on the floor.

“Before I start, I want to make it very clear that Chan and the rest of the boys are not allowed to know any of what I’m going to say. It’s just going to make things worse and I’m not changing my mind about the decision I made, am I clear?”

The girls all glance at each other before turning back to you and nodding.

With a satisfied head nod, you go into detail about what Mark had said and how if you chose to be with Stray Kids that he wouldn’t stop until he had killed everyone of them. You then explained how that he promised that if you were to marry him and pick him over Chan then he wouldn’t kill any of them.

“I know it sounds stupid but Mark is a man of his word. If he says he’s going to do something, he means it and I just, I couldn’t take the risk. I know I probably hurt you guys and I’m sorry but you have to understand that I’m doing this for your own safety,” you say, ending your long speech.

“That’s bullshit,” Jennie states while shaking her head.

“What?”

“I said that’s bullshit! You’re coming back with us now y/n. I don’t care what fake promises he has made you, it isn’t a good enough reason,” She fumes while standing up and grabbing your arm.

“Jennie you don’t understand! I want to go with you, I really do but I just...I can’t risk it.”

“Jihyo has been telling us how miserable you look and how controlling Mark has been, we’ll be damned if we let you stay here another minute,” Jisoo finally speaks up.

“But it’s not your decision to make,” You argue back.

“Y/n, listen to me. I know, you’re scared about what Mark can do but we aren’t little powerless kids. We can fight back against him but you have to trust in our abilities. Please, just come back home with us, don’t throw your life away for our sake” Jennie pleads.

You look over to Jihyo, hoping to get some type of support from her.

“Don’t look at me, I’m with them on this one. You marrying Mark isn’t going to solve anything. It’s just going to anger Chan more and it’s just going to add more fuel to his fire. It’s going to add fuel to all the boys fire. What do you expect is going happen once they get angry? They’re just going to attack JYP and that’s going to give a reason for Mark to kill them. His promise is one that I know he can’t keep and even if he does, he never promised you that he won’t hurt or lock them up. I feel like no matter what you do, you can’t stop Mark or the boys from trying to kill each other.”

Jihyo did have a good point....

“But if you guys could just convince them not to, then we could avoid all of that,” you suggest even though you know it was a dumb hope to have.

“And you think that’s going to work? Chan loves you y/n and as far as he knows, you still love him so he isn’t going to stop until he gets you back,” Rosé comments.

“Well maybe I could convince him that I don’t love him.”

“As if he would ever believe you,” Lisa said with a little eye roll.

“I just...I would rather him hate me and believe a lie then know the real reason. I know you guys think it’s a bad idea and that I should just leave but I, I can’t. If I marry Mark, I feel like it gives me more time to figure everything out. He isn’t going to do anything that could possibly mess up my image of him anymore then it already has been and if I do I might be able to gain his trust back. So I know for a fact he won’t kill any of you guys, not before our wedding at least. I just need you all to keep the boys under control in the mean time.”

“I understand what you’re saying Y/n but I just...if you go through with marrying Mark, I’m worried that you’ll be stuck with him forever and we won’t be able to figure a way to solve anything,” Jihyo says, voicing her concerns.

“Maybe, but I think right now that’s our best bet.”

You all sit in silence, the weight of the situation falling upon everyone’s shoulders.

“So, what do you want us to tell the boys when we get home? I’m sure they’re going to be asking questions,” Lisa spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Mix a lie with the truth. Tell them that you met with Jihyo and I and tell them that I explained that I wasn’t changing my mind and that I don’t regret my choice. Just say that I confessed to knowing about plan awaken and that I’m in love with Mark. I don’t know, just say something like that.”

“And if Chan or any of them want to come and talk to you?”

“Have them go through Jihyo, and maybe I could meet up with them in secret. It might hit them a little harder if I say it to them in person. I think having Chan come would be the best bet because if he thinks I’m telling the truth then so will the rest of Stray Kids.”

“And what about us? Are we allowed to come visit you?” Jennie asked.

“I don’t know...Jihyo, if I said I was training with you once a week, do you think Mark would get suspicious? He did apologize to me today about the lack of space he’s been giving me so maybe he’ll be more willing to let me come here, no questions asked.”

“I think if you catch him on a good day and ask him the right way he wouldn’t mind.”

“Then I guess we can meet once a week maybe...but what about Stray Kids? Wouldn’t they catch on?” You question.

“Well to be fair, we still are under YG so they don’t know all of our business. For all they know we could just be going on a mission,” Jisoo comments.

“That’s true...well I’m down for that. This way you’ll be able to update me on things and vise versa.”

You glance over to the clock on the wall and nearly shit bricks when you see it 12:30.

“Oh shit he’s gonna kill me! How in the fuck did it even get so late so quickly? I don’t even have time to get sweaty to make it seem like I was training,” You rant as you begin to freak out.

“Just tell him that originally we were going to train but then we ended up just catching up on life or something, I don’t know but you better get a move on it before he comes down here,” Jihyo comments as she rushes to open the back door and let the other girls out.

After saying a quick goodbye, you sprint back up to your room. Once you make it to your bedroom door, you slowly open it, praying that Mark was asleep.

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sor-”

You stopped mid sentence as you taken in Mark’s appearance. It seemed like he just got out of the shower as his hair was wet and he only had black sweatpants on and a black silk robe that was left untied and opened, leaving his chest exposed. You still were getting used to see Mark like this, so whenever you did see him with his chest out in the open it always threw you off.

“Close your mouth before flies go in it,” He mumbles while taking a seat at the edge of the bed and crossing his arms.

“Fuck off,” you say as you feel your cheeks getting hot.

“You know, you’re going to have to get used to me walking around like this. We are getting married in case you forgot.”

“How could I forget,” You answer bitterly as you go to grab your pajamas to change.

“Don’t sound so excited.”

“Mark, I don’t feel like getting into this now. I’m tired and I just want to jump in the shower and go to bed.”

Not hearing him say anything else, you take a quick shower before going through your nightly routine and laying down on your side of the bed.

“Y/n?”

“What?”

“Are you cold?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“....”

“You know you might not be happy right now and you might feel like I’m ruining your life but I can promise you that one way or another I’m going to make you love me and I’m going to make you happy.”

“....”

“Goodnight Mark.”

“Goodnight.”

TAG LIST (feel free to send me an ask if you would like to be added to the tag list or if you would like me to send a private message every time I update <3): @elenaramos1 @yup-indecisive-girl-cece @ewok7attack @0leelina0 @letterstoskz @lilacyeonjun @leesalts @craftymoonchaos @pajerita19 @basebalgirl70 @imagining-constantly @exfolitae @sangiejoong

Part 16

MASTERLIST

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sodapill · 4 years ago

Text

days like television

words: 3.9k

relationships: denji & hayakawa aki & power, implied akiangel

ao3 link

a/n: here’s something i wrote exploring the dynamic of the hayakawa household from denji’s pov!

cw: mild emetophobia, smoking, ptsd

These days, Denji finds himself greeting every morning with a face full of cat fur.

Nyako has taken a liking to sleeping in his room, and she’s got a strict routine that he’s expected to follow. Breakfast doesn’t begin at the reasonable time after Aki doles out their portions, but rather whenever Nyako demands it, usually before the sun has peaked past the horizon and always when Denji is dead asleep.

Her favorite method of waking him used to be persistent yowling, but recently she’s adopted a new strategy—settling the length of her pudgy stomach over his head and cutting off his air supply.

It’s devious but effective, and as Denji’s body kicks into fight or flight from lack of oxygen, he can’t help but think they’ve raised a spoiled brat.

Power claims that’s how all pets are, but Pochita never refused the pathetic scraps of food Denji managed to scrounge up for their sporadic meal times. Nyako is the odd one for being a normal cat with normal needs.

It’s a good thing Denji is “nothing if not adaptable,” a phrase Aki used once that he’s since latched onto. Whether Aki meant it as an insult or not is irrelevant.

Occasionally growing a chainsaw for a head has made him realize he can adapt to pretty much anything. The hardest part of it all was learning to live with other people, and Denji sort of manages that. What difference does a daily smothering make in the grand scheme of things?

He’s gotten used to pulling a purring Nyako from his face so he can trudge to the kitchen and open a can of cat food. It’s considered one of his chores anyway—and yeah, they have a chore chart now.

That was all Aki, of course. Fed up with the stacks of unwashed dishes and dirty clothes strewn across the living room floor, he’d cooked and then withheld a delicious hotpot dinner until Denji and Power both agreed to work out a schedule. They’d decided to cycle cleaning throughout the week and set Saturday as laundry day. That way there was no excuse for Power to walk around in her underwear under the guise of not having anything to wear. It was her idea that the penalty for missing a chore be losing a finger, and Aki added it to the chart like that wasn’t something he’d ever have to worry about.

Denji didn’t want to give either of his housemates the satisfaction, so he’d gotten used to doing chores.

Begrudgingly.

Make no mistake—he can get used to anything, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s learned to tolerate doing dishes like he tolerates the acrid smell of second-hand smoke filling his lungs whenever Aki feels like having a cig indoors. Bad smells never bothered him when he’d lived in poverty, but the weight of smoke in particular is stomach-turning.

As he’s forced to crack open a window and watch Nyako slink a similar retreat onto the sill, Denji considers how all this luxury has possibly made him a bit spoiled too.

After all, not everything he grows accustomed to is outright shitty.

For all her annoying living habits, Power proves to be a low-maintenance roommate. Her moods fluctuate so wildly, if she finds anything to complain about in the first place, she’s over it by the next turn of the clock. She also takes bizarre pride in completing her chores, dragging him or Aki around the apartment to boast of what a good job she’s done.

She pouts if they don’t praise her enough—but whatever. Denji is used to it.

Her constant chatter becomes less annoying the more time they spend together, until he realizes the apartment is too quiet on the rare occasion she’s not there. The sound of her exchanging meows with Nyako reminds him he’s home, and even her cackling laugh soon registers as comforting background noise.

Similarly, Denji now recognizes the shifts in Aki’s tone well enough to know if he’s actually in trouble, versus if Aki is scolding him for the sake of propriety. Denji watches for other tells when pulling pranks with Power—an indulgent shake of the head and a tug at the corner of Aki’s lips means they’re in the clear.

It's easy to pinpoint exactly what shade of melancholy he’s drifted into just by counting the number of consecutive cigarettes he pulls from the pack. Two is contemplative—four, somber. Anything past that means they’ll have to arrange for takeout that night.

Aki is consistent, and when he starts drifting in and out of rooms like he’s lost something, his fingers trailing the walls as if navigating in the dark, Denji knows he’s actually looking for a distraction. In those moments, Denji makes an effort to act extra obnoxious, riling Power up in turn until Aki has no choice but to pay attention to them and forget whatever bad memory he’d gotten hung up on.

Gathering facts about the people he lives with isn’t a conscious choice. It’s instinctual, like how his body expects food on the regular. He’d put up with a constant state of starvation for his entire adolescence, doing odd jobs on an empty stomach like it was nothing. Now it ruins his entire day if he doesn’t get at least three meals. What’s crazier, his body punishes him when he takes advantage of the unrestricted access to food.

Aki’s cooking is good. So good in fact, that for a large span of time, Denji is constantly shifting into “eat as much as possible” mode, left over from when food was scarce. This results in several post-meal puke sessions, made all the more miserable because Denji’s body is pretty much invincible, right? He’d thought whatever devils were made out of meant they were above this shit. Ending up with his face inside a toilet bowl has forced him to rethink his previous assumptions.

It sucks waiting for his body to adjust alongside his brain, but Power and Aki do their best to make it more bearable. The first time Power kneels beside him on the cold tile, he’s sure she’s there to laugh at his misery—it wouldn't be the first time. He’s bewildered when instead, she places both palms on his back and rubs them vigorously up and down in what must be her version of a soothing caress. She doesn’t laugh or even complain, and only when his stomach is empty and he’s slumped against the wall in exhaustion does she get up and fetch Aki, who steps into the bathroom with a soldier's solemnity to deposit a mug of hot tea into Denji’s hands.

It happens enough times where Denji doesn’t bother to ask questions, filing it away as one of those things that fits into an unnamed category of half shitty, half not so shitty—like movie nights.

The three of them have vastly different tastes, Aki with his mind-numbing art house flicks and Power’s penchant for talking animal movies made for literal children. Denji doesn’t know what genre he likes most, but it’s definitely not either of those.

It’s an unspoken rule that they have to watch each one all the way through. Aki is the type to sit in complete silence because talking “ruins the integrity of the film,” whatever that means, and Denji’s running commentary annoys him to no end.

Denji and Power make bets each time on how long it’ll take him to snap or huff out a laugh.

On the rare occasion it’s Denji’s turn to choose, he splits the difference and puts on something from the best seller section at the video store. With this method, they all have to suffer through garbage, but occasionally he’ll stumble across a good movie—one he doesn’t mind staying quiet for. He watches Aki and Power rather than the television screen, their rapt attention filling him with an odd sense of pride.

Denji categorizes those nights as not so shitty.

After a while, he gets so used to the good and bad mundanities of domestic living, he can’t even imagine what a change in routine would look like.

Then they go to Hell, and instead of cat fur, Denji is more often violently jerked awake to the sound of Power’s screams.

She’s more dependent than ever before, clinging to Denji at all times like an extra limb. When the sun begins to set outside their windows, she startles at every sound, working herself into a panic while her nails dig half-moon circles into his arms that he’s sure would leave permanent scars were he fully human.

Looking after her turns out to be even more work than getting up at the crack of dawn to feed Nyako—but for some reason, Denji can’t bring himself to resent her for it.

He takes on the responsibility of comforting her with a resilience he never knew he had, going as far as holding her hand each night while she struggles to calm down enough to fall asleep.

Power isn’t the only one Denji has to keep an eye on.

At first, he doesn’t notice the way Aki will sometimes stop cold in the middle of cutting vegetables, gripping the knife handle hard enough to whiten his knuckles as a shudder of something awful passes through his body. He’s good at hiding it, and when Denji catches the tail end of one of these attacks, Aki brushes it off like it’s nothing.

It’s only after Aki suddenly sinks to the floor in the middle of a conversation, his hand clutching at the place where his missing arm wouldn’t reattach, that Denji realizes he’s overlooked something important.

Phantom limb syndrome, Aki explains, is an ongoing side effect of losing a limb wherein the brain gets mixed signals from the area of severance and translates them in the only way it knows how—as pain. He rambles off some more medical science that goes completely over Denji’s head, but from what he can gather, this affliction is severe, unavoidable, and sometimes life long. There’s no cure, but as with other chronic conditions, the goal is learning to manage it the best you can.

The thought of Aki suffering in silence makes Denji want to deck him as much as it makes him want to find a solution for his pain. He juggles these warring impulses until Aki clenches his jaw and looks away—and Denji understands that Aki won’t spend any extra energy looking after himself by choice.

So Denji and Power force him to.

They keep a hot pack in the cabinet above the microwave, and when Aki shows even the slightest sign of falling under the grip of pain, they warm it up and force him to sit with it pressed to the aching muscle. They know it’s particularly bad when Aki doesn’t bother hiding how much it hurts, and in those moments they take turns massaging his shoulder.

Aki refuses to speak with them during, so Denji and Power talk to each other, treating the situation like it’s something they’ve always done.

Denji doesn’t comment on Aki’s silence. He’s come to understand that there are some things they don't need to say aloud. When you’ve lived with a person long enough, you can share a thought with just a gesture, or pick up on ideas that you can't put into words

Power doesn't need to tell him she appreciates his company on her bad nights. Likewise, he doesn’t need to voice why he doesn’t mind taking care of her. He couldn’t even if he tried.

And when Denji questions Aki on why he’s wearing a glove indoors, Aki only has to shoot a single warning look to shut him up.

Later that night, Aki welcomes the Angel Devil into their apartment.

One arm between the two of them—Denji thinks that's pretty funny, but he doesn’t say so. Instead, he hangs back as Power slinks around their guest like she’s investigating a new play thing.

Angel endures her attention for a short time, then flicks Denji a cool look and tucks his wings in, settling on the couch without a word.

Aki hovers in the foyer, glancing between the three of them like he’s waiting for a fight to break out. It’s such a dumb look on him that Denji takes it upon himself to make the first move.

He plops down on the arm rest and asks Angel outright if he’s ever tried using the thing floating above his head as a frisbee.

Angel rolls his eyes and informs Denji that his halo is sharp enough to slice through metal.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Denji shoots back, and he’s sure Aki’s surprise mirrors his own when the corner of Angel’s mouth lifts into a smirk.

“By all means, be my guest,” he says, inclining his head in invitation.

Denji moves to take Angel up on his offer, but Aki comes back to himself and catches Denji’s hand in a tight hold. He then spends several minutes lecturing them both on how hard it is to get blood stains out of upholstery.

The rest of the night is...well, it’s still weird. But Aki so obviously wants it not to be that they all pretend for his sake. While he cooks dinner, Denji and Power keep their surprise guest company.

Angel is surprisingly talkative when prompted, though he always seems to veer their conversations into the morose. At one point, he stares glumly at Nyako snoozing on the counter and warns them to watch her closely.

“Cats don’t actually have nine lives,” he remarks, “I learned that the hard way.”

Denji doesn’t say anything when Aki lays out enough food to feed a small army, all special dishes that he’d never cook for Power or Denji even if they begged. He digs in without a word, and it’s a good thing his mouth is stuffed, otherwise he’d be gaping at the way Aki carefully feeds Angel, every so often lifting a glass of water to his lips.

They follow up dinner with ice cream—which must be Angel’s favorite as Aki spoons him two extra helpings—and then Power is tugging at Denji’s arm, urging him to come take a bath with her.

He relents under the assumption that Angel will be gone by the time they’re done washing up. But about half an hour later, Denji exits the bathroom toweling off his hair to find Angel is still there, sitting close to Aki. They’re angled towards each other, Aki’s arm thrown over the back of the couch and the fabric of his long sleeve shirt brushing the tops of Angel’s wings.

They both look up at Denji when he enters the room. Angel’s expression appears bored as usual, but Aki’s is strange, his face relaxed in an unfamiliar way.

Denji opens his mouth, then decides better.

Aki stands, helping Angel up with a steady gloved hand to his back, and it takes everything Denji has in him to stay quiet as Aki mumbles an awkward goodnight, shepherding Angel down the hall and into his room.

Denji immediately makes up an excuse to run to the convenience store so he can check the balcony outside Aki’s room from street level. Sure enough, Aki and Angel are leaning up against the railing, heads inclined as if they’re speaking in low tones.

Denji watches Aki light himself a cigarette. He offers the box to Angel, who says something that actually makes Aki laugh, the sound ringing clear even from a distance. Placing a second cigarette in Angel’s mouth, Aki holds his own steady between two fingers, bending forward to meet the smoldering end to Angel’s unlit one. A pinpoint glow of orange flares in the dark space between their faces like a morning star.

Denji turns away, stuffs his hands in his empty pockets, and decides he’ll swing by the convenience store after all.

By the time he gets back, Angel is gone.

Aki is once again sitting on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen with a stupid smile on his face, and Denji has to say something.

It turns out Aki can punch just as hard with one arm as with two.

After that, Denji pays closer attention. Without intending, he starts to notice the way Aki sometimes looks at him and Power—though he can’t focus long enough to figure out what those looks mean. They’re gentle and wistful in a way that makes Denji want to pull at Aki’s cheeks and mold a better expression.

He tries it once, but that puts Aki in a foul mood for hours so he doesn’t do it again.

Things get even more confusing on a night where they’re all sprawled out on the carpet. The movie Aki puts on is so boring it knocks Power out in minutes, her head pillowed in the crook of Denji’s arm. He starts drifting off soon after.

It happens as he’s on the verge of sleep. His mind is muddled to the world around him, but for a second, he imagines he feels Aki place an ear to his chest.

Denji is sure he dreamt it until he walks in on Aki in the same position over a napping Power, his cheek pressed to her collarbone and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Denji backs out of the room and thinks there’s something he’s missing here.

The next time Aki is in the kitchen, Denji tests a theory, loudly announcing that he’s going to take a nap before stretching out on the couch. He feigns sleep long enough to rethink his entire strategy—when he finally hears Aki pause his task and tread softly across the room.

Denji struggles to keep a straight face as Aki kneels beside the couch and lowers an ear to his chest, keeping it there much too long for someone trying not to get caught. Eventually, he heaves a great sigh and pulls away, returning to the kitchen like he’d never left.

So, yeah. There’s the whole listening to their heartbeats thing.

Another quirk to add onto the list of Aki behavior that Denji doesn’t understand but has to accept.

Aki is still Aki. He still shouts at them when they break things, still cooks their meals and tolerates their company—though, maybe tolerates isn’t the right word anymore.

Denji is flipping through the pages of a porno mag when one of the ads catches his eye. A smiling woman in a bikini holds up a machine with a handle on top and an open space in the middle. He thinks it might be some crazy sex thing, but he has Power read the description, and she tells him it’s for making a dessert called “shaved ice.”

Neither of them know what that is, but the ad makes it sound like the best thing ever—

“—and it can be ours for the low price of two-thousand yen!” Power shouts, smacking the magazine against his arm.

Denji tears out the ad and goes to pester Aki into buying it for them.

Aki bitches and moans about wasting money on useless shit, but after getting it out of his system, he puts down the laundry he was folding and snatches the page from Denji’s hand, dialing the number with a sour expression. He’s curt over the phone, reading off his credit card details like someone has a gun to his head. Denji wishes he could see the face of the unlucky salesperson on the other line.

“Denji.” Aki says, and Denji tilts his head before realizing he’s not being spoken to. Aki pauses, and then directs a puzzled frown his way. “Last name?”

Denji shrugs.

Aki blinks at him, the furrow between his brow smoothing as if in stunned realization. After a bizarre stretch of silence, he readjusts his hold on the handset and glances away, mumbling out, “Hayakawa. Hayakawa Denji.”

When he eventually hangs up, his gaze stays trained on the far wall like he’s lost in thought. Denji decides not to test his luck by sticking around, but Aki catches his wrist as he goes to leave.

“What?” Denji grumbles. “I said thank you, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t, actually,” Aki replies dryly, but there’s no real reproval in his tone. “That’s not—just hold on a minute.”

His faltering words give Denji pause. He shakes off Aki’s hand but stays put.

“Listen,” Aki begins, messing with the pile of clothes he’d left aside. He unfolds a shirt, holds it out, and then folds it again, all the while not meeting Denji’s eye. “If you or Power ever needed— If for some reason I wasn’t here...and you needed something for documents…”

“Why wouldn’t you be here?” Denji asks, and thinks of their work. “If you’re traveling we can call you.”

Aki turns to him then, something unreadable in his thousand-yard stare.

It’s like facing a door labeled, “do not open.”

Aki sighs and looks away. “Forget it.”

And Denji does forget—until a fews days later when a package arrives at their doorstep postmarked to one Hayakawa Denji.

Placing the box on the living room table, he studies the characters of his given name, covering and uncovering them with his palm. He’d never noticed how incomplete they looked without a surname to go before. The sight turns rusty gears in his head, almost like he’s on the verge of understanding an important truth.

Power bowls him over in her excitement before he comes to a conclusion.

They leave the setup to Aki, who confiscates the shaved ice maker and reads the instructions with the two of them hovering over his shoulder. It turns out to be very simple, just a matter of filling the upper compartment with ice and turning the lever. The machine wobbles below Aki’s hand, so Denji holds it steady, watching with fascination as snow-like flakes collect in the bowl underneath. The novelty wears off a little when he dips a finger in to taste and finds it flavorless like regular ice, but Aki bats his hand away and pulls out a bottle of blue liquid.

“Flavor syrup,” he says, scanning the label. “Hawaiian Blast—what’s that supposed to be?”

Whatever it is, it tastes delicious drizzled over the ice flakes, sweet and refreshing like no dessert Denji has ever had.

Power gobbles up the first serving faster than Aki can make more, and he’s unsympathetic to the excruciating brain freeze that earns her.

She flicks the lever and turns to Denji with a conspiratorial grin. “Think it would work with blood?”

“Great idea,” Aki says, chin in hand. “Why not make this perfectly innocent activity fucked up and evil?”

Power sticks her vibrant blue tongue out at him.

Denji hates getting cut open on principle, so he appeases her by mashing up strawberries with condensed milk into a gory looking topping they can all enjoy. Even Nyako gets to lick a drop off his finger.

Aki takes his first bite and gazes into his bowl like it’s a window into a far off time and place. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

“Old man,” Denji snickers.

Power echoes him at double the volume, falling back and kicking her legs in the air. The motion disturbs Nyako, who clambers off her lap and settles at Aki’s feet

“Oh, shut it,” Aki says, but the hint of a smile softens his tone into fondness. He scratches at Nyako’s ear. “At least you’re on my side.”

Shaken by her cat’s betrayal, Power stammers out, “‘Tis only pity! Nyako feels nothing but pity for humans, just like her master!”

“Is that so?” Aki raises a brow and—to Power’s great dismay—makes a show of lifting Nyako into his lap. “Lucky us then.”

“Yeah,” Denji says, a brilliant grin working its way onto his face. “Lucky us.”

#chainsaw man #csm #denji chainsaw man #power chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #akiangel #peimou writings

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

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Hello yes, could you elaborate on the Comte wedding event pleease. Crying and fangirling and dying are all acceptable. I missed it and I adore your rambles about Comte? Thank you either way.

!!! I’d be delighted to!! And awww, I’m so glad :D I love to write about him in any capacity, it makes me so happy to know people enjoy it when I do! Tysm for the full license to cry/fangirl/die because lbr it ain’t a Comte event if all three of those things don’t happen .Please don’t worry, I don’t mind talking abt it anyway! 💕💕💕

Okay my fellow Comte stans, you know the drill! I’ll be placing the details of the Wedding Story Event (jpn version) below the cut! Please don’t read if you want to wait for the official translation, and I hope you enjoy if you do take a peak! c:

AIGHT Y’ALL in fair Verona where we lay our scene-- This event begins on a lovely summer day with Comte and MC at a boutique picking out a wedding dress for their upcoming ceremony. As usual, she provides a bit of background as to how we got here. Comte doesn’t have a proposal event (as far as I know) like the other suitors because he actually proposes marriage in his MS. I won’t go too far into details just in case, but they essentially swear their love to each other in a church at night--just the two of them. (I’m not 100% sure, but I think this event takes place on the anniversary of the vow that they shared, what Comte called becoming “a vampire’s bride.” Yes it’s as hot as it sounds AND I LOVED IT). Now, despite their private promise to each other, Comte does specify that he fully intends to have a public wedding whenever she feels comfortable doing that. As such, this event is picking up from there.

With all the nitty gritty settled, it’s time to get to the fun bits. So Comte is weaving in and out of the dresses, trying to find the perfect one for his beloved. MC is equal parts exasperated but amused, and she notes that it reminds her so much of when she first debuted in high society (reference to the beginning of Comte’s MS). Back then, when she agreed to debut, he told her that he would immediately send word to his tailor to make the necessary preparations. It’s a kind of nostalgic moment; she remembers how thorough and excited he was (��I’ll be sure to show off your every charm”), and he’s effusing that energy in the boutique too. Eventually he settles on two of them and requests that they both be prepared, and MC sputters. She’s like Comte???? W H Y we only need one dress???? And he insists that, since it’s a special occasion, there’s no harm in it is there? He also goes on to say that it is in line with her culture’s tradition of “dyeing the bride in the husband’s colors.” MC shoots back that the tradition doesn’t entail several wedding dresses for the bride, but he pays the correction no mind. Y’all. I loved this part because it just emphasizes how much of a LIL SHIT he can be. Like he’s 100% harmless but I was like BOI IF U DON’T--I WILL KISS UR CUTE FACE. YOU STOP THAT.

I find it interesting especially because it remains in line with a trend about Comte that is so arresting for me, something that I find so endearing about him. I’ll note other places in the event I find it, but in this moment he is revealing something critical: for all of his capacity to play with the language and expectations that other people have/use, he only ever uses it for good. Here he’s purely being playful (with a stark note of respect and awareness); he has no intention of overwhelming her or undermining her cultural expectations of what a wedding means. Especially because MC, even in her monologue, isn’t truly upset--she honestly seems to find it adorable and funny more than anything. It’s also clear that Comte is working within her comfort zones. While he would buy the entire damn boutique if she let him, he settles on two because he knows it would stress her out otherwise (MC tends to be p pragmatic, not really about extravagance she is a mood).

And so they make their selection and exit the boutique, and they’re walking arm in arm back to the carriage. Comte laments narrowing it down to only two, but he’s happy they found something nice. MC thanks him for bringing her along, but he says it’s only natural--he wanted to pick out the dress the world would see together, he would never be happy with it otherwise. MC melts (WHO WOULDN’T) and says she’s really looking forward to wearing them, and he’s shook AF.

(OKAY BUT I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS. DOES HE UNDERSTAND HOW TOUCHED I AM. DOES HE KNOW. His route hammers home this idea that for Comte, being with someone absolutely means being on the same page. It means being there for each other yes--but it also means making sure the other person feels wanted and included. He could have so easily just picked his favorite and been like “yeah this is what we’re going with.” But not only does he not do that, he refuses the very idea of a ceremony without it. He wants this to mean something for both of them, and he’s more than willing to put in the time and effort to ascertain that. I’M FUCKING TENDER OKAY. HE CARES SO MUCH AND I SOB)

He asks her if there’s anything else that she really, really wants for their wedding, and she thinks it through. It’ll be a reasonably sized wedding, with the men of the mansion in attendance and most of their closer high society friends. They’ve picked out a dress, the venue is set, the people closest to her will be there...she really can’t think of anything else? So she asks him if he has anything he really wants to do for the wedding, and he replies in the negative too, saying that “My only ideal wedding can be one in which I can see you at your most happy." ARE YOU KIDDING ME--Before MC can recover from that, he goes on: "Even now, I'm enjoying the preparations, and I want to do whatever I can for you." MC feels like she can never win against his sweet affection, so she nearly kills him with her answering line: "It’s more than enough. More than anything, being able to swear our love together again--to renew our vow--is the best part of it all." Comte is visibly shocked and is quiet for moment (MAN DOWN!!!!!!!!! VAMPIRE DOWN GET THE DEFIBRILATORS!!!!! LEONARDO PUT THAT LIGHTNING ROD AWAY I SWEAR TO GOD--) before he just replies with a “Is that so :>>>” And translating this nearly killed me [At the sight of his gentle smile, I smile back.] IM GOING TO SCREAM THEY ARE JUST SO TENDER IM SOFTE????????????

As they’re walking, Comte asks MC to tell him about weddings in her time. What were they like? He wants a reference point. She goes on to describe how ceremonies really range from formal to more informal affairs, and gets to a little custom that’s apparently held in Japan. When a groom intends to marry a bride, he will go to the bride’s family to ask for their approval. Comte visibly seems concerned about it, and I’m pretty sure he feels bad denying her that experience; not only did he propose to her without knowing any of that, her family isn’t within range to be able to honor it properly now. Even so, he keeps listening and comments now and again with a great deal of interest, paying close attention. He asks, what happens if the groom is rejected by the family? MC goes on to say that it’s a kind of test of perseverance: the groom is expected to ask/prove himself until he gets an answer in the affirmative. Internally, she notes that such a thing rarely ever happens irl--it’s mostly dramatized in movies and TV shows. She used to dream of how thrilling it might be to have someone do that for her, but it was mostly just a silly little fancy, nothing she was obsessed over. Comte, being a literal fucking legend, senses this emotional shift in milliseconds, and starts musing about something. When she tries to ask what’s up, he’s like not to worry leave everything to me.

PLEASE CUE THE CIRCUS MUSIC. BECAUSE THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO TURN INTO A CLOWN FEST.

So it cuts to them back home and Comte is asking Sebastian to give MC’s hand in marriage. Sebastian is utterly bEWILDERED and is like “I mean I understand I’m probably the closest relative she has right now but also WHAT!? YOU’RE MY BOSS/LORD I’M YOUR BUTLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD”. Comte 100% is undaunted by this very normal reaction and insists that class/status has no place in matters like this, and Sebastian and MC are desperately trying to stop him from bowing his head/kneeling. MC notes she never expected him to take it to heart, tells him "Comte, you really don't have to go that far, it's a custom not a duty--" (IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY????? YOU CAN FEEL THEIR MOUNTING CONCERN AND I CAN’T BELIEVE COMTE WAS STRAIGHT UP JUST “i am not above begging” AND THEY’RE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE YOU SHOULD BE ABOVE BEGGING)

The circus only escalates when Leo comes in LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF "damn...bahahahhahahaaaaa now THIS oughtta be good/interesting." MC (and I simultaneously) start yelling at him and he replies "What? Comte's already ready and willing, why stop him?" For whatever reason, this gives Comte an idea (NEVER A GOOD SIGN) and he’s like you know what? That’s actually perfect, get everybody in here I’m gonna ask them for permission too :D

Several things I want to say about this. 1. COMTE LITERALLY DOES NOT EVEN REACT TO LEO’S MOCKING HE JUST “omg ur face was useful for smth for once this gives me an idea” 2. META TIME. First and foremost, I seriously can’t deal. This man knows MC has nothing because of her traveling through time, no friends or family--he’s always so, so aware of what she’s sacrificing to be with him. It is never outside of his thinking. Not only does this decision solidify her presence as a member of their family (I’m just so UGLY SOBBING about the fact that he does not consider them all ANYTHING LESS--THEY ARE HIS CHIRREN AND HE LOVES THEM AND I’M SOFT) this is also such a brilliant, strategic move on his part. Not only is he doing this to fulfill her younger wishes of having someone be so confident in their love for her that they would insist on it in front of her family/loved ones--his doing this also solidifies her presence as his wife within the mansion from here on. There can be no mistake; this is an unquestionable statement as to how her identity has shifted in meaning, a powerful allusion to his possessive streak. (and WE LOVE THAT FOR US HELL YEAH)

Furthermore, I continue to be fascinated by the way he keeps subverting traditional or expected forms of supplication. While many could see this as a yielding of his pride (and in some ways he undeniably is) this choice to acknowledge her culture’s customs yields much more valuable dividends for him. 1. MC--notorious for never betraying the things she wants, having trouble asking for anything--is have her dreams fulfilled even if they were just silly little fantasies from when she was young. He’s actively making her happy, and he gets to openly gush about how much he loves her (FOR HIM THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF A WIN-WIN YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND--) 2. This is a way for him to make amends and do proper respect to the marriage customs of her place/time, and that’s infinitely important to him. He’s trying to set a precedent; that even if he ever does make a mistake or neglect something (even if accidental) he will do his utmost to make it right, pride and money be DAMNED.

While it can be argued that he’s just being silly and over-the-top, when you look closely this is 100% a clever, very mindful approach to their future. While it may partially have been executed on an emotional/excited whim, he is also claiming MC as his own in the most clear and respectful way possible. And tbh that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

So, after Leo walks in on them everyone else starts filing in one at a time (OKAY YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME THAT THEY WEREN’T ALL HUDDLED UP TO THE DOOR SQUIRMING TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING ON AND AT SOME POINT LEO SAID “omfg i gotta see this dumbass bitch on his knees” AND BLEW THEIR COVER/MADE THEM EVEN MORE CURIOUS):

Jeanne: "It's so noisy in here."

Mozart: "What's going on?"

Comte: "Ah, excellent timing. I want to get permission from everyone."

Vincent: "?????? Did you do something wrong Comte?? What could you possibly need forgiveness for?"

Isaac: "A mistake made/wrongdoing by Comte?...Why am I dreading what it could be..."

Dazai: “Ah yes, yes I see, you are asking for a young lady's hand in marriage” (IM WHEEZING BC EVERYONE ELSE IS SO LOST AND HE'S JUST 100% ON THE BALL KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING ON THE NARRATIVE DISSONANCE IM CRYING)

Theo: Young lady??? The hell are you going on about

So things are getting increasingly chaotic and MC is just [jfc this is getting out of hand, Comte they don’t even know what you’re asking them to do]. She tries to explain but falters, and Comte puts an arm around her--signals that he’ll give them the context. So he tells them "You all know that our wedding day is approaching. As such, I'm asking you all for your approval in taking MC as my bride. No matter what happens, I promise to make her happy forever--for every moment, every second of our time together. Please, forgive my taking her" (WHEN I TELL YOU MY HEAD WAS IN MY HANDS IDK HOW MC DIDN’T DIE ON THE SPOT S I R. SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) MC: [...Comte...My heart melts at his confession, at his earnest plea. It feels like every single iota of our feelings are infused in every word he speaks, teeming with the love shared between us in overwhelming measure.]

For a little while silence falls until Napoleon speaks up, and honestly? It was so sweet ;-; I tear up every single time: “Forgiven. You know how much I dislike formalities anyway. And besides, who could say no to le Comte?” MC notes that everyone murmurs in agreement and a kind of warmth settles in the room. Arthur notes that MC will be a Comtesse very soon and MC just. I’m going to be a WHAT now (”C-c-comtesse??”). And it’s so FUCKING FUNNY YOU CAN FEEL THE RED EYE EDIT MEME ON COMTE WHEN HE GOES “Oh? Is there anything wrong with that? Everybody said yes, after all :>” MC internally accuses them of ganging up on her, but reveals that more than anything she’s a little overwhelmed by the outpouring of love in the best way:

MC: [Overwhelmed with feeling; touched, a little shy, embarrassed, but also full of joy--my eyes burn at the edges with tears] “I'm glad everyone approves c:”

Comte: Agreed :> your country/homeland has a nice custom. A v important step to inviting my loved one into my life as my wife :>>>>

So it then cuts to them in Comte’s room after the circus and MC thanks him for the sweet confession in front of everyone, tells him how happy it made her. He insists that it was only natural he would, and that it isn’t even enough.

Comte: “I am the one...your life, your time as a human being; I'll be taking all of it from you.”

MC: [...Comte? He took my hand with a very serious expression]

Comte: "As I said before, I will make you a vampire someday."

MC: “Don't call it that--a price. I want to live with you too!”

MC notes that while she hasn’t made the leap yet, she knows she’ll be ready for it soon enough.

Comte: “Thank you. But the last thing I want is to take things from you, I want to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you smile. Whether that means weddings, requests--anything in my power.”

COMTE REALLY SAID "she is entrusting me with her future and that means I have the responsibility of not only ascertaining her happiness, but proving my unwavering devotion to it" AND IM HOLLERING????? LADIES GET YOU A FUCKING MANS. MC finally begins to understand this, and she’s like OMFG is that why you went off so hard this afternoon???? And Comte’s like :>>>> guilty as charged, though I think I'm also just still excited about the wedding too, haha! They hug it out (YESSSSSSS LET ME H O L D) and MC asks him again if there’s anything he wants for the wedding too. Aight y’all I would be irresponsible if I didn’t warn you beforehand, get fucking tissues. I’m still upset abt his answer and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He thinks about it for a bit, before kissing her forehead and saying “I suppose, can you pray for my happiness too? That's enough."

AIGHT IMMA GO BACK TO THE EVENT IN A SECOND BUT I GOTTA SAY. BITCH. BITCH ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????? COMTE THAT ISN’T OPTIONAL THAT’S A GOD DAMN PREREQUISITE?????????????????? OFC WE WISH FOR YOUR HAPPINESS WHAT THE FUCK??????????????? THE A U D A C I T Y. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE INSULTED IN ALL MY LIFE. OKAY RANT OVER.

MC is surprised but naturally agrees to it, having wanted that for him even without prompting. She continues to think on it, insisting that she wants to do something for him too. An idea sparks but it only says that she made preparations without telling him anything for now, preparing a tangible sign of her love for the wedding.

The premium end begin here. She’s getting dressed for the wedding, and she’s--as usual--in awe of his perfect selection of accessories/jewelry to go with the gown. She’s about to put on her shoes when she notices something odd, and there’s a knock at the door. Comte enters to ask if she’s ready, and they both freeze and stare at each other. They both sheepishly admit to being completely taken with the sight of the other, and they laugh about it together. Comte tries to ask if she’s ready again, and she assures him that she is--just that she found something unexpected in her shoes.

He explains that the coin is an English six pence. Sebastian told him that they are no longer made in her time, and Comte explains he acquired it about three hundred years ago in England when he was living there (he says that he kept it back then because he liked the design on it). He explains that there is a tradition, that the English would put a six pence in a bride’s left shoe in the hopes of wishing her good fortune and prosperity in her oncoming union. MC has her understandable and customary (JESUS I FORGET HOW OLD THIS MAN IS SOMETIMES) and he places a hand over hers that’s holding the coin when she starts staring at it.

Comte: "Hey, MC....Time goes by, and various things will continue to change. Among them, it is only vampires who survive without dying or changing."

MC: "Comte..."

Comte: "I used to think that made it--made us--empty. But...I don't think that's the case anymore. I'm proud of being able to keep this undying, unchanging love for you."

[He put the coin back in my left shoe, and offered them to me--gentle as though they were made of glass(Cinderella's)]

MC spends this exchange on the verge of tears, but keeps it together for the wedding. It depicts their loved ones all around them as they walk down the aisle, and skips to the end of the ceremony. The priest tells Comte he may now kiss the bride (WHEN I WAS TRANSLATING IT SAID “KISS YOUR BUSINESS” AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WHEEZED), but just as he’s about to lift her veil--she stops him in his tracks. He’s confused, and says her name, but she reassures him that she just wants to offer him a wedding gift before he lifts it. Hidden in her bouquet are two pins that she had made, and she pins them to his jacket. They were made from preserved flowers, encased in metal to render them undying/everlasting.

MC: [Me too...I want to wish for your happiness...]

MC: “For you, things might feel fleeting--like they just pass you by, are lost before you can grasp them. But even so, my feelings won't change; just like this preserved/undying flower and the life of a vampire--dedicated to [Comte's real name] in everlasting love."

COMTE.EXE HAS CURRENTLY SHUTDOWN. REBOOTING.

MC notes that his eyes get misty and he leans his forehead against hers.

MC: [Comte's real name]?

Comte: .................I want to hug you as tight as I possibly can, but I'd hate to ruin the flowers/your gift to me

BITCH WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. WHEN I TELL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1. I CANT GET OVER THE FACT THAT HER GIFT IS NOT ONLY CANON BUT ITS LITERALLY ON HIS WEDDING SPRITE, HER LOVE IS A VISIBLE MANIFESTATION ON HIS PERSON ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2. THE FACT THAT SHE ONLY ADMITS TO BEING THE HAPPIEST SHE CAN BE WHEN SHE SEES HIM SO HAPPY TOO. THIS IS SO MUCH. SO M U C H

And so Comte lifts her veil and kisses her gently uwu cover ur eyes chirren, the hall erupts in raucous applause and the crowd starts congratulating them!! Comte then encourages everyone to have fun, and the reception takes on the vibe of a kind of social gathering. MC notes that he seems to prefer this level of interaction, just relaxed and everyone chill, and she turns to tell him that it seems like it’ll be fun! Before she can finish her sentence, he kisses her fiercely before leaning back with a sigh, "It's still not enough, but I'll save the rest for later tonight." BITCH!!?!?!??!??!? HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE FOCUS ON A STUPID PARTY WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, HELLO???????MC notes: [Everyone from the mansion that saw the kiss made fun of me endlessly, and I hid my face in my bouquet] SAVE HER. Once again, it skips to the end of the reception and they’re now in Comte’s room. (I will blink twice if I think you need tissues BLINKS TWICE)

Comte: "Yup, perfect." [He places the flower pins I gave him next to THE hourglass in the room, looking pleased HNGNNGNGNNGGNGN MY EYE HOLES ARE SUFFERING

MC: "I'm glad you liked the gift c:"

Comte: "It is proof of your unchanging love, of course I cherish it :>"

She’s just so happy to see him so delighted with it. He asks how she liked the ceremony, and she gushes about how much she loved it. He hugs her (AWWWWWWWWWWWW) and then he notes that while it was fun to celebrate, all he wants now is time with his wife (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA). He starts kissing her like the world is ending, and she says she needs to get changed--but he doesn’t care, says she’s fine as she is and that he wants her right now.

Aight usually I don’t get into epilogue territory, but honestly, this shit was JUST too good. Now this man made of magic asks MC if she’s wearing her bridal garter (you know, the one that usually comes with the whole bride ensemble in Western tradition). And she’s like ???? Uh, yeah, of course? Why... He says that he saw something interesting at a friend’s wedding reception once upon a time, and explains that the garter is usually removed and thrown to the bachelors (analogous to the bride’s throwing her bouquet, and whoever catches it will be the next to get married). PLEASE NOTE HE IS KISSING HER FOR LIKE 90% OF THIS IT’S AMAZING

MC: "So it's like the bouquet toss?"

Comte: "Yes. Now then, how did he remove the garter...?”

HE DUCKS DOWN AND SHE’S LIKE COMTE!?!?

Comte: “...Ah yes, the groom removes it with his teeth >:D”

And so this man HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE tugging it down slowly under her dress, caressing her legs and loving every part of her. MC’s face is on fire, and she’s torn between being turned on and embarrassed. Eventually he reappears after teasing her MERCILESSLY and admits that he didn’t do it at the reception because he didn’t want anyone else to see her reaction. Blushing, shy, desirous--all of these feelings are his to keep and enjoy. (I!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!!!! HOW SUBTLY POSSESSIVE HE IS AAAAAAAAAA) MC notes internally that she feels the same way about him, how he only shows this intensely passionate side to her. Comte is uncharacteristically impatient and frenzied that night, and they both go at it.

It skips to midnight where the two are cuddling in the aftermath, just being cute and happy. Comte, the absolute MADLAD is already thinking about how to celebrate next year--and she just giggles at him (he’s a wackadoo but he’s her wackadoo LMFAO MOOD) and he laughs with her. They essentially swear to promise their love over and over in the future, and it just ends on that wholesome note :>>>

Also can I just. The fact that he lived for so long alone, but was always, always paying attention to all of these little things that are done with a person’s loved one ;-; that he would remember his friend doing that at his wedding and be like BROOOOO I WANNA DO THAT IF I EVER GET MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!! I just. It’s so heartbreaking and touching at the same time, I just want to hold him forever ;-; the fact that he doesn’t seem to worry as much about his own happiness, seems absolutely floored that MC would do anything in return. I JUST LOVE HIM WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME

THIS IS WHAT PEAK PERFORMANCE LOOKS LIKE

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp wedding event #NOW I CAN REST IN PIECES O-<--<#today on: reasons why i would die for comte no.347 #will i ever stop? no #do i have a problem? probably #but i have a tumblr account and the ability to write and i am making that everyone else's problem fdkjlhgfdjkh #but i hope you enjoyed my rambles!!!#you're always welcome here friend! :D #tho yall story time #when he asked abt the garter i started SCREECHING bc i knew EXACTLY where it was going #in middle school i saw a guy do it once at a wedding but i didnt know what the sex^TM was so i didnt think anything of it #i was like haha weird wedding tradition go brrrr why is everyone whistling #and when i was reading i just immediately was sent back and i was like OMFG HE'S GONNA DO IT ISN'T HE THE WILD MAN #but honestly i cant get over how romantic comte is #he has no necessity to enact all these little rituals--i dont really know if he even believes in any kind of religion at all #(i dont think he does honestly but he never speaks to it directly)#but the thought of sharing that with her #of doing those things to make her happy and express his feelings #it makes me so very softe #i dont even believe in all of those wonderful things and yet he makes me want to humor that kind of belief #also idk why the cuts arent working properly on the tumbles i apologize in advance im trying to figure out why

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tomokahiroshi · 4 years ago

Text

"Sure, I'll get going."

Moving to the exit, he waves.

"See you later then."

"Likewise, dear Captain."

The moment he's a good distance away, the woman snaps her finger and the sound echoes throughout the empty library.

"Coast clear."

And from a corner close by, a girl of green hair with glasses peeks out.

The Assistant Alchemist, Sucrose.

"Th- Thank you, this... this should be sufficient."

Humming, Lisa nods with a smile.

"Yes, dear, it should be."

What a day it is today.

It doesn't take long for the man to spot their Outrider at the entrance of their Headquarters, alongside the Honorary Knight.

"Yo."

Grinning slightly, he raises his hand in greeting.

"What's up?"

"There you are!"

Amber waves in response, while the Traveler by her side wordlessly nods in acknowledgement.

"We spotted something in Windrise today!"

"Oh? Is that so?"

The tanned man hums, folding his arms.

"Do tell me about it."

After a while of explaining, he decides to join the duo in taking a look at the odd "thing" they saw by the Statue of The Seven's side.

A doll-like creature, small and has the ability to levitate.

It's nothing like what they've ever seen before.

To make it more complicated, said creature also seems to have a will of its own and constantly dodges their attempts on getting a hold of it.

Their little game of chase goes on until dusk, only then did they lose track of the poor thing and decide to return to the Headquarters.

Throughout the duration of it, however, the man has to admit that it's rather entertaining.

And nostalgic, since he used to play that kind of game with...

`"Catch me if you can!"

"Challenge accepted!"`

The sound of their laughter in those distant days still ring clearly in his ears, echoes of a pleasant childhood he knows he doesn't deserve.

"Sheesh, it was so fast."

Amber huffs on their way back.

"And small too, which makes grabbing it all the more difficult."

"You can't blame it, really."

Paimon, the Honorary Knight's floating companion, comments.

"When some strangers just suddenly show up and try to get a hold of you, of course you run."

"That's right."

Kaeya hums, holding his chin in thought.

"Besides, I'm sure I at least managed to tell what kind of thing it was."

At this, the brunette turns to him immediately.

"You did? That's fast!"

"Of course."

Smirking, he continues.

"It's an elemental being, a wisp amongst Mondstadt's thousand winds."

And once again, a remark catches him off-guard.

"You're amazing, Sir Kaeya!"

The Outrider did not just-

"I'm glad we have you within the Knights' ranks!"

Oh Barbatos, his face must have looked so ridiculous that it caused both Amber herself and the Traveler to stare when they finally took notice of it.

"Kaeya?"

Paimon waves a hand in front of his eyes.

"Helloooo?"

Maybe his smile literally froze on his face, though.

"He's acting weird..."

Amber mumbles.

"Well, at least we're here now."

Indeed, they're currently standing just before the entrance of the Knights of Favonius' Headquarters.

The sky, painted in fiery orange of the setting sun, reminds the man of someone's eyes.

Orbs that shine with burning passion, an unrelenting desire to protect this land with everything this person has.

A tug on his sleeve brings him back to reality, looking to the side to find their Honorary Knight smiling up at him.

The third thing is...

Why is everyone suddenly so hard to read?

From the ones he met early morning to those he met in the late afternoon, they're all so...

Unpredictable.

And Amber beams at him, taking his right hand as the Traveler had his left.

Then they lead him inside together.

His heart skips a beat once the large doors open, revealing the rest of Ordo Favonius along with colorful decorations.

As well as a gigantic "Happy Birthday" hanging from the ceiling.

"Happy birthday, big bro Kaeya!!"

Klee comes jumping down from a hovering flower - Albedo's, he notes - and throws various cute-looking things, which he's sure are explosives.

Although when they do blow up, it's all confetti and glitter.

So this is why Jean agreed...

The two by his sides quickly let go of his hands as the small girl falls right into his arms, giggling.

"Yay!! The new formula worked!"

"Splendidly."

Lisa chuckles, snapping her fingers and the lights go out.

"Time for the cake."

At this, he sees a cart being pushed out by Noelle and candles illuminate the area.

On it lays a cake of three layers, each of a different color.

Ocean blue, ice blue and white, from top to bottom.

"Please make a wish, Sir Kaeya."

Along with the maid's smile, he makes out everyone else's in the dimly lit lobby.

Ah... a birthday wish.

Smiling back at them, he nods.

But what should he wish for, really?

They went through the trouble to organize a party for him right under his nose and it is rather impressive how they've managed, if he were to be honest.

He knows the birth date is always on one's profile when they apply for a job, but he didn't expect them to pay that any mind.

Especially when it's his.

He hadn't celebrated it in years, after that event took place.

...

He would be lying if he said there was nothing he wanted to wish for, though.

`"Happy birthday!"`

The image of a young boy, smiling brightly as he handed Kaeya a gift.

That had been the first time someone threw a birthday party for him.

Chuckling, the tanned man moves to blow the candles as his wish comes to mind.

A childish dream he still believed in.

The girl in his arms cheer when everybody's applause resounds, light flickering back on with another snap of the librarian's fingers.

"On behalf of every knight within Ordo Favonius, I thank you for your contribution in maintaining the peace of our city."

Jean steps forward, a hand on her heart as she speaks.

"We hope that you enjoy your time here, as well as allowing this place to become your second home."

The warmth in his chest intensifies, a feeling he hadn't felt for so long.

And the woman smiles.

"Everyone, let us say it together."

From the shy Assistant Alchemist to the outgoing Outrider, from the strict Acting Grand Master to the friendly Honorary Knight, from the rarely seen Chief Alchemist to the ever-present Apprentice Knight, from the graceful Librarian to the explosive Spark Knight.

All of them, with bright smiles, go on and-

"Happy birthday, Kaeya!"

Even if his eyes feel a bit like burning right now, the man grins back at them.

"Thank you, all of you."

He doesn't think he deserves it.

Yet as he feels their sincere affection and gratitude, he can't push them away.

Perhaps... for this occasion, he'll allow himself to be honest once more.

When stars fill the night sky and the moon ascends to its peak, the Cavalry Captain leans onto the railing of the small balcony as the party goes on inside the building.

He wonders if... it could have been this way, if none of the horrible events a few years back happened.

Other than throwing a party for him, Sucrose gave him quite a pleasant surprise by being able to make untesils somewhat "alive". Perhaps that was why she needed them this morning, so they could easily move around for everyone to use.

The girl's bio-alchemy skills are getting better and better, as expected of someone working alongside Mondstadt's best alchemist.

Well, she had potential anyway.

That said-

"... Having some time to yourself?"

He pauses upon hearing the voice.

This can't be-

"That is to be expected, you've never been a big fan of parties despite your eccentric nature."

Whipping his head to the source of the voice, he finds a familiar redhead sitting on the railing to the side - a leg on it and one dangling - away from people's view, in a black cloak he hadn't seen for so long.

"You..."

His voice comes out barely audible, like a faint whisper of utter disbelief.

"Why..."

"I want nothing to do with the Knights of Favonius."

The other sighs, glancing at him.

"But since it is a special day, I'll make an exception."

At that, the tanned man goes silent.

An exception? For...

"Before you even get to that, stop."

Currently masked, the redhead only waves him over.

"Come here."

That mask is different, not the same one he used before.

Considering what it was for, it isn't hard to understand why the other abandoned it along with "that".

Confused but curious, he does as he was told and stops in his tracks upon seeing the offered hand.

"... Diluc?"

At the mention of his name, the other averts his gaze.

"Hurry, we don't have all night."

Smirking, Kaeya finally takes the hand and chuckles quietly.

"Where are you taking me, O Nocturnal Guardian of Mondstadt?"

"... You'll see soon enough."

In quick succession, the redhead pulls the man closer to himself and sweeps him off of his feet using his leg.

The smirk on the Cavalry Captain's face immediately gets replaced by a look of surprise due to the sudden bridal carry and in turn, the Darknight Hero's lips quirk up slightly.

"Mond's Knight of Ice."

#post #text #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #jean gunnhildr #lisa minci #noelle #amber #the traveler #klee #albedo #sucrose #venti

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masterthespianduchovny · 4 years ago

Note

why is it so important people to prove that David and Gillian hate (or don't) each other? Or that they were (or not) a couple? real question.

Anon, here’s my thorough input about your ask:

I’m not sure if you’ve watched the x files or not, which is important to understand some peoples very strong emotions about this topic. 😅

I reckon most people don’t care about David and Gillian’s relationship, which may include yourself if you’ve seen the show, but if not:

The x files was a groundbreaking show and had introduced a new male-female dynamic, but largely the show was built off of the backs of the two leads David and Gillian. If these two didn’t click, the show wouldn’t have worked. From day one, these two had insane chemistry. Typically, if they didn’t spend enough time together in an ep, people would complain. When the show’s quality began to decline, people tuned in for Mulder and Scully.

Based off of how magical these two were together on screen and that they never missed a beat, you’d never imagine they didn’t get along at times. But, the friction between them was notable on some occasions via interviews and certain non show clips. Sometimes they spoke highly of one another and other times, it was obvious that they weren’t in the best of places.

On the flip side, during this same time, there was also the media who were fascinated with them. Because, when David and Gillian got along IRL, they’re a sight to see. They’re way more animated and giggly around one other. On several occasions, the media has flat out asked them if they were a thing, if they ever would be, and are they interested in each other. At times, their answers and behavior is very fascinating even literal decades later.

I honestly do think that fans and the media can differentiate between acting and real life. There is something about their interactions that makes think people they were involved or some hope they are/were/will be.

You also have certain situations that doesn’t help matter, such as in 1997 David agreed to go as Gillian’s date as support to the golden globes and they looked like a couple (she was going through a divorce and this was how he supported her). A mag accidentally called him her boyfriend. Lol. Gillian has confirmed that she was interested in David and he appeared to interested until she said she wasn’t from New York. They threw a lot of sexually charged jokes at each other even tho they were said to hate one another. David asking if Gillian came became she moaned a certain way and Gillian saying she wanted to suck David’s dick. In the first x files movies, they asked to make out for fun in character knowing full well it wasn’t going to be in the movie.

So there are some sus things that happened that, even people who don’t care, start to think, “hmm...what’s going on between them?”

There’s this famous jimmy kimmel interview in 2016 where he flat out asks this because they were all giggly and flirty. And none of this includes the moments when they flirt, specifically Gillian, to have fun with fans. Gillian also gets flustered when asked questions about David and he gets defensive.

Basically, this relationship has had more interest and intrigue than (their) actual relationships. LOL.

Now, the vocal naysayers are a different case. People who don’t believe they were ever a thing usually say their piece and walk away. But, the vocal detractors are a different story. Some believe that people who are pro Gillian and David (which doesn’t necessarily mean them being involved) can’t separate reality from fiction. Tbh, they are conspiracists about the two, so there’s that. But, these people get upset at those who even dare believe that David and Gillian are friends.

If you’ve ever seen an interview between the two, you’d understand why many would want them to be friends. They’re gold together. Why would anyone want to believe that is acting???

Those who froth at the mouth about this is typically because they hate David. Why? Well, that’s their business and they’re allowed to feel that way. But, since they hate David that means Gillian hates David. Because David and Gillian didn’t get along at times, this proves how David is the worst. Gillian has always had loyal, staunch fans, some of which, have taken on her problems and/or issues with David as their own. It’s a lot of things, really. I don’t mean this in a snarky way at all, but they worship her and thinks she a goddess. (I’m not referring to most or all of her fans getting this defensive and whatnot).

Since they have these deeply intense feelings of hatred towards David and see themselves as her defender/protector, the mere idea that they could be friends is an insult to her and them.

Which means that they’ll flat out ignore interviews and quotes where Gillian denies hating David, says they’re friends, the things she likes about him, and that David wasn’t the only who misbehaved back in the day. They’ll bring up completely unrelated things as “evidence” as to why Gillian hates David. They’ll accuse him of unproven things that actually makes Gillian look bad as well. But, as long as they get to shit on David, it doesn’t matter.

They’ve gone as far as misconstruing a statement Gillian made years ago to mean, “David was like an abusive partner.”

So, pro David and Gillian people either want them to be friends/involved because we’d like to believe their dynamic based on their insane chemistry is real. And we don’t want to believe that they hate each other in real life because it doesn’t vibe with their face to face and paper interviews.

Where as anti people: 1. A fraction of them hate the idea that just because they had chemistry means something was/is going on (these people aren’t against them being friends) 2. Anti David people who adore Gillian and think of him as an abusive partner she needs to be protected from. These are the most vocal critics. Most of the anon hate I receive are literally people complaining about David and why they hate him. And the posts I’ve made don’t even say they’re together or were, many of them are about David and Gillian being friends. Lol

They assume that anyone who doesn’t hate David thinks he can do no wrong and they must rectify this mistaken belief.

And, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s adorable how much some fans love and gush over Gillian (and David, he has fans too. Lol). But, some fans take it too far and are taking on these actors (alleged) grievances as if it’s their own or that they know intimate details that they’d have no knowledge of.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not “important.” But, when you’re invested in the actors on some level, more times than not, you’re invested in their relationships: romantic, friendships, familial, and professional.

There’s a lot of shit I don’t know, forgot, and didn’t touch on that much, but that’s the gist of it. 😂 this has been an ongoing thing since the 90s and, apparently, will never die.

One last note: if you pay attention to pop culture and celebrity relationships and rumors, the intrigue around them is insane. Many couples who are/were bigger celebrities than them don’t get this much attention. I don’t know if it’s because the question still exists as to whether or not they’re telling the truth or what, but this has been going on for over 27 years.

Celebrities pay top dollar to get the type of attention they get FOR FREE. Their are superstar singers who’ve had PR relationships that people don’t care for or have forgotten about, where as David and Gillian constantly have people curious as if the two have ever be a thing or will. Like, even when these two have been married and in relationships, interviewers STILL will bring up the possibility of them being together.

If you follow celebrity couples, you’ll know how rare and unusual this is. When celebs have questions like this, it’s because they were a huge couple (think Brad and Jen). Like, I’ll probably make another post and go in-depth about it because this post is already super long (😩), but the media usually doesn’t keep being up romance questions for two celebs who have emphatically denied being involved for literal decades and there aren’t rumors connecting them. Even the media has let go of rooting for Kate and Leo to get together, yet David and Gillian still get questions. 😅

#david duchovny #gillian anderson

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savannah-lim · 4 years ago

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Don’t Be Shellfish || Savannah & Dave

Timing: Current Location: The Codfather Parties: @savannah-lim and @seizethecarpe Content: Gore, violence, discussion of death Summary: Savannah and Dave go out for dinner and the food is a little bit more fresh than they anticipated.

Savannah could only have been more relieved if Dave had asked her to go for drinks instead of a meal, but she understood his reluctance considering the recent bar fight. There was nothing to stop them having drinks with their food, right? She hardly ever used her daily allowance for food and drink, so still reeling from her conversation with Felix, Savannah decided that fuck it; she was going to treat herself. What was the point of living in the East End and not trying out the best restaurants in the area? The FBI could foot the fucking bill.

Savannah had called ahead to make the reservation a few nights prior, and even upon arriving, she could tell this place wasn’t her usual setting. Maybe that was why it was so appealing though. For once, she wanted to distract herself with something that wasn’t leftover Chinese food or a burger and fries. Savannah arrived first, ordering some wine while she waited for Dave to arrive, hoping he had the sense to dress for the occasion.

Dave had been a bit hesitant about coming to the Codfather. He didn’t have the clothes for a place like this, never mind the money. But when she’d suggested this place, Dave could hardly say no to what he ate on the daily, but made fancy. He’d have to cut his food small enough that he wouldn’t need to chew with his teeth caps on, but he had plenty of practice with that. With his neatest plaid and a pair of jeans that were only scuffed and torn at the bottom hems, he walked in to the restaurant only mildly uncomfortable, quickly smelling Savannah out through the crowd, and using her scent to lead him to her rather than sight. “Evenin’. How’ve you been?”

Rather than be judgmental about Dave’s choice of attire, Savannah found it oddly amusing. There was a sort of cheap thrill that came out of debunking everyone’s expectations. Savannah herself hadn’t dressed completely fancy; just a plan navy blue dress and a little bit of jewelry, but some of the patrons wore what could only have been the most expensive garments. She could sense the entitlement around them. “I’ve been…” she started to answer, shrugging with a vague laugh. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve been fine, but I’ve seen a lot these last few weeks. I’ve learned a lot. How about you?”

“Yeah, Jesus, sounds like you’ve had a more exciting month than me.” Well, that was likely debatable - the bruises around Dave’s neck had slowly shifted into faint shadows, but they still ached. He wasn’t moving his arm as much as normal, where the cut was still healing around carefully practiced stitches. Still, contributing to the banishment of Bloody Mary was no small thing, but he wasn’t the one being chased by witches on broomsticks. Hell. He’d almost bought a vial of Nepenthe, he had stared at it on the counter with his dealer for a long old while before deciding he didn’t want to be that kind of guy, not when he had other options. “Been better, been worse. Fishing’s always a bit rougher in the winter, but I make do.”

“You’re not a very open person, Dave. You know that, don’t you?” Savannah ordered them each a drink, (whatever Dave wanted), a small, humorless chuckle leaving her lips. “Better and worse. Not very specific. You’re one of the closest things to a friend I have in this town, and I still know nothing about you.” She sipped her beer, shrugging. “Okay. I’ll go first. I’m from Boston. I’m from a Korean-American family, thoroughly upper middle class and very set on their kid’s achieving things. They expected me to be a doctor or lawyer, but this is close enough. I was married. Now divorced, but still keep in touch and have inappropriate conversations every once in a while. No kids. Don’t want them… No pets either, but maybe some day.”

Dave chuckled, tilting his head in in wry acknowledgement. “I’ve been told that before.” He thanked her for ordering the drinks, watching the waiter go. “Damn. I don’t know if that says more about me or you.” He said it teasingly, but listened intently, focusing on her lips as she talked, mouthing the words subconsciously to make sure he didn’t miss any of it. He smiled at her reference to inappropriate conversations. “Alright, then. Well, I’m from Texas. We travelled around the coast when I was young, not really sticking to any sort of place. Grew up exactly as my parents expected, athletic and charming. Still am, I’d sure you agree,” Dave laughed at himself there. The sands of time had worn away most of his natural charisma. “Was married. Three sons. Haven’t really lived in one place long enough to settle down in the last couple decades. I live on what I fish and what I hunt by and large. Sometimes I sell what I catch, sometimes I help folks find things they’ve lost in lakes and shit.” Dave smiled thinly. “That help at all?” Their drinks arrived, and Dave took a big gulp of his lager with enthusiasm. The problem was that he couldn’t tell her everything. Seemed shitty to be her closest friend here when his whole life had to be a secret, when he idly wondered whether the kind thing was to get someone to take her concerning memories.

As secretive as he was, Savannah enjoyed Dave's company. Maybe it was a fire-forged friends thing, an unspeakable feeling of kinship without rhyme nor reason, forged out of almost being human sacrificed together. "You're probably right. It does say more about me," she shrugged. "I've often focused more on my work than my relationships. Hence the divorce." She listened as he told her about himself. "Any of your sons close to my age?" she teased, shaking her head. "That right there is more about you in thirty seconds than I've learned in... weeks? Months? Time doesn't seem to exist in this town." She flipped the menu over, handing one to him. "Since you're the resident fisherman, what would you recommend? Fuck the price. I haven't spent my full FBI living allowance in weeks."

“Me too. Never been able to stick to a relationship since my first. Too distracted with other stuff.” Dave said. Too busy getting justice for his first family to be able to get justice for his second. “Hey, watch who you’re calling old,” Dave replied with a wry smile, but it didn’t last. “My sons died, decades ago. Hence the not talking about myself.” He shrugged, the wrinkles of his smiles not quite reaching his eyes. “Prefer to keep to myself. Work keeps me busy, and I’m usually out on the water in one way or another. Not much of a people person.” He flicked his eyes over the menu, looking it over. “I know these folks catch local and fresh, and the lobster in the area is good. That’s what I’ll be going for, either way.”

Oh, shit. His sons had died. Well, now she felt like a dick. “Sorry to hear that.” Savannah took a sip of her wine, as if it would cure the embarrassment of jokingly flirting with a man’s deceased children. “Okay, I won’t ask you any more personal questions until at least dessert.” She signalled the waitress over and ordered a mixed platter of starters to share and a lobster each for the main course. Savannah’s family were decently well-off, as you’d expect successful doctors to be, but she had reasonably simple tastes and rarely went all out like this. She asked Dave about generic things like fishing and hunting while they ate, keeping her promise not to delve into anything more personal. By the time their plates were clean, Savannah exhaled a massive, satisfied sigh. “Wow. I don’t even know that I have room for dessert after that. It was amazing.” It was just as well, because Savannah wouldn’t even have had time to reach for the dessert menu before the soft background music and casual conversations around them were pierced by the sound of dishes and pans clattering in the kitchen, followed by yelps and screams.

“Me too,” Dave said, sipping from his beer with the same vigour. Talking about dead kids always put a weird vibe in the conversation, but he had the feeling Savannah would have been able to tell if he had lied too obviously, and he couldn’t maintain the same straight face talking about family as when he lied about the supernatural. As the food came, they settled into easier conversation, the kind he could do while remembering how to eat lobster the fancy human way and not the crunch-the-exoskeleton-with-your-jaw way. He managed it, and by the time they were done he was more than satisfied, he wouldn’t even have to go for more later. Dave was about to wave away the dessert, happy to watch her enjoy, when he realised that the room was reacting to something he couldn’t hear. Everyone was looking over to the kitchen, including Savannah. When someone staggered out of the kitchen with a bleeding arm, hand dangling on by just a couple inches of flesh, Dave jumped to his feet, grabbing his bag before striding over to the kitchen to see what was up, without even looking over to see what Savannah was doing.

Savannah’s eyes widened in horror at the sight. They got out, someone was screaming. They fucking got out! “Call 911,” she demanded of the nearest person, knowing that giving the task to a specific person was more likely to yield results than letting the whole restaurant fumble and assume someone else was going to do it. Luckily, she’d finally realised she needed to bring her gun to literally every place she went in White Crest, and she followed Dave towards the kitchens, calling after him. “Hey! Hold up. It might be dangerous! Something got loose in there.” However, danger was unlikely to deter Dave, given they’d met one another while volunteering to be human sacrificed as a ploy. The kitchen door swung on its hinges, back and forth as Dave walked through it. Savannah did the same, gasping at the sight that befell her; lobsters the size of everything from cats to Golden Retrievers, running around the room, destroying everything in sight. “I don’t think--I don’t think this is gonna help,” she said, gesturing feebly to her firearm. Where was Kaden and his harpoon when she needed him?

Dave reached into his satchel, pulling a strange metallic device the size of his forearm. He stepped back from the Karkinoids, quickly unfolding the prongs of the trident and extending out the haft until everything clicked in securely. An imperfect weapon, but decent for driving between the chinks of a nearby Karkinoid’s armour. “No, it won’t. Get out of here!” He barked. He used the trident to fling the karkinoid across the room, looking for where the hell they’d come from. In the corner of the room was an extremely large bucket, that looked surprisingly sturdy for holding just lobsters. It had been knocked over. Unless, of course, they knew they weren’t. Dave groaned, jumping away from one little slash at his ankles. There were what, four or five? He couldn’t kill them with the trident, just whack them around. He’d be able to do more with his teeth, but if he could get them all back in the bucket, it’d be a hell of a lot easier. Dave swore, pinning down one of the nearby karkinoids with his trident while he tried to get something resembling a plan.

Savannah’s eyes widened in awe as Dave pulled what appeared to be a giant fork from his satchel. What kind of dinner had he thought they were going for? “I’m not--no!” was all she could answer when he told her to leave, and not having a trident to hand, she could only make do with spraying the creatures back with a fire extinguisher to give herself enough room to climb up on top of the counters. Rest in peace to this place’s hygiene rating, but that was the least of their problems right now. Dave was holding his own, and she gazed on, shocked and impressed, but they couldn’t just keep up this avoidance tactic forever. God, she was going to have so many words with the manager after this. “What do you want me to do?!” she asked. Should she call Kaden? No. They’d be lobster food by the time he even got here.

Dave tongued the covers off his teeth, his fangs descending. He moved spryly on his feet. “I want you to leave,” he growled, words not forming as easily around his canines, although he was careful not to show his teeth to Savannah. “They’ve got to get back in the barrel.” One of the karkinoids swung its giant claws for Savannah, and Dave moved with a feline reflex, grabbing it by the tail and hurling it across the room into the barrel. That was one, but the karkinoids were looking for freedom, and the two of them were the only thing holding the rest of the world from the karkinoids.

“I can’t leave!” Savannah called back to him. His voice was almost guttural. They’d kill her before she even got to the door, and she couldn’t just leave Dave to fight the things by themselves. “Why the barrel? Just--kill them!” As if it was that easy, or that obvious. There had to be some kind of weapon in here, something they used in the event of this ever happening or to get the things in there to begin with. Then she saw it, or rather, them. There were a pair of catchpoles on the wall. One for each claw. “There!” she yelled, pointing. “We can get them restrained!”

“How do you propose I do that?” Dave snapped back, clambering onto a bench to avoid being snipped at. Instead the claw of the karkinoid cut right through the steel drawers underneath the counter, and the rest of it began to groan as that support was taken out of the picture. This wasn’t his sturdy trident, it was his back up in case of emergency. In the water, this would be piss easy, but while they weren’t fast moving on land, nor was her, and it wasn’t so easy to get his jaw around them here. “Can we?” He repeated, following the line she was pointing at. “Great,” he growled, before jumping over to another counter, and then dropping back down to the floor heavily, rubbing his knee before grabbing the poles, throwing it across the room to Savannah. That was just enough time for a Karkinoid to pinch the flesh of his calf and cut into it deeply. With a roar, Dave caught its tail, picked it up - it was only cat sized - and with his teeth crunched through the red exoskeleton and tore off its pincer, before throwing it onto a counter where the hot top was still on, and it struggled to get off the heat. He checked whether his leg could hold his weight, before looking up to Savannah. They each had a catchpole to deal with the other two.

“I don’t know!” Savannah answered. Somehow this situation made her even more frantic than the mermaid. At least with Kaden, they had come prepared. “I’ve never killed a giant lobster before.” It wasn’t as if they could boil them until their shells were nice and soft. The catchpoles were all they had to work with. Dave quickly took care of one, though Savannah couldn’t fail to notice the rip in his pants and the blood dripping from his wound when she turned back towards him after grappling with her own. She tried to keep her grip steady around the handle as the lobster struggled to break free. “I think we know why our meal was so filling,” she said, using the pole to edge the creature back towards the huge barrel it had escaped from. “Keep the other one back,” she instructed as she struggled with the creature, clearly less practiced in this area than Dave.

Dave has killed giant lobsters before, as Savannah called them. But not like this, not in an enclosed space, not with his back up Trident that wasn’t very secure, not while above ground in his human suit. Definitely not, while trying to hide his true identity from an FBI agent. Every time he shifted his weight or tried to step away or towards one of the karkinoids, his leg threatened to give away underneath him. He nodded as Savannah told him to keep control of the Karkinoids that she wasn’t pushing towards the barrel, but even the split second he took to read her lips was enough to get another deep gash on his leg. Yelling, Dave kicked the lobster. He’d aimed for the joints of its exoskeleton. It bounced against a nearby table, stuck on its back for a second. Dave grabbed a nearby counter to take his weight off his leg. Jesus, fuck, that hurt. If nothing else, he was relieved that he hadn’t tried to dress up for today. With the Trident he pinned the Karkinoid in place, And managed to get the Catchpole that he was holding over one of its pincers. The other pincer sliced right through the table and a flurry of pots and pans clattered to the floor, along with a large piece of salmon that had been prepared earlier. Grimacing, Dave used the Catchpole to drag it over to the barrel and drop it inside.

It was incredibly frustrating to not be able to use her gun in this situation. She wished she had Kaden's harpoon or the other tools he was sure he had access to. "Shit, shit, shit--" Savannah repeated frantically under her breath as she tried to wrangle the creature, to get it under control. It was evident that Dave was badly injured, maybe not in ways that would cause permanent damage, but certainly enough to impair him in this encounter. She narrowly missed being grabbed by the one she was wrangling and finding herself in a similar situation.

Dave fought to get the creature back in the tank, and Savannah did the same. Once they were done, she let go of the catchpole, not even caring that it fell into the pot with them, and then she pulled the lid back on, sealing them inside. She collapsed onto the ground in the pile of recently fallen pots and pans. "Are... Are you okay?" she gasped, eyes widening as she saw the extent of the blood on his leg. "I'll call an ambulance..."

Dave lowered himself to the floor slowly, extending his injured leg out in front of him. “Been worse,” he said gruffly, the waver in his voice a clear sign that it was not great either. “Looks worse to you than it is,” he groaned, wrapping a nearby tea towel around his legs, staunching the bleed. All the same, this would take him out of the running for a few weeks at least. When she reached down, he pushed his teeth guards back into his mouth. Like hell was he acknowledging that he’d ever taken them off, to begin with. He huffed laughingly. “Think they’ll comp us the dinner?”

#paras #with: dave

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years ago

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Graceful

The third and final instalment to the Grace Trilogy. We’ve come a long way bois.

Summary: sometimes, things take a turn for the worse, and the world feels like it’s falling apart. Wild’s always jumped at the chance to save someone else, but what happens when the favor is returned?

Warinings: To avoid spoilers, they’re in the tags.

Note: I gotta dedicate this. Like. I absolutely have to. This whole series I want to dedicate to @spacemalarkey and @fox-moblin. Linni, I cannot thank you enough for how much you do for me, for always thinking of me and including me and being my go to person for bouncing ideas off. You helped with with so much and I swear you have been here since the beginning and that’s something I will always be grateful for. Ort, gal, my pal, my favorite cryptid, I love you, you are such an inspiration and your creativity always inspires me to try to be better with my own works. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t read Grace and deemed it good enough to reblog haha. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks to you two. It’s not like I’m not writing LU anymore lol, gonna keep writing for this amazing fandom. This fic just feels like a testament to how far I’ve come since Grace.

Anyway, who wants to cry?

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Twilight didn’t understand.

Before, he always questioned it. He would lie awake for hours into the night, tossing and turning on his sleeping mat, blankets tangling his legs and sweat dripping from his brow. Nightmare’s haunted him because of it, nightmares of a wild hearted boy jumping in front of a spear, in front of an invincible monster, in front of Twilight himself, to ultimately fall to the ground and never get back up, blood pooling besides the body.

Twilight never understood. He never understood why Wild was so ready and raring to put himself in the path of a killing blow, or any blow for that matter. He says it’s because he has the ability to come back and he may as well be the one to die and revive than Wind or Sky or Warrior or whoever that won’t come back.

Don’t get Twilight wrong. If someone else was in danger, he would gladly risk his life to save them. But that’s the game changer right there. Risk. Not willingly give away. Twilight believes in finding a way for everyone to survive. It was never about dying for his friends and country, it was about simply saving it.

Wild is hard wired about dying for it.

And Twilight didn’t understand.

He’s argued about it on multiple occasions. Ever since that first time where Wild took his own life to simply return stronger and finish the job, Twilight has found ways to argue about it. Thankfully, Wild eventually understood that letting himself die was heartbreaking for everyone there and a total abuse towards Mipha and her gift, but he’s still reckless. Reckless enough to get his neck snapped by a ball and chain. Reckless enough to push Sky out of the way of a charging bull and get hit himself. Reckless enough to take the arrow he saw heading towards Time’s head. Enough to get Four out of a booby trapped cavern first and ultimately get crushed by tons and tons of earth. Enough to pull Hyrule off from cracking ice and drown as a result, to eat an apple gifted to Warrior’s from a shady figure to prove it was poisoned, to charge unprepared into an enemy camp to save the newest hostage named Legend.

And he doesn’t do these things only for the group, but for innocent bystanders and travelers too.

Twilight would yell and yell Wild’s ear off whenever the little gremlin got himself hurt for others. He could have easily warned Sky or Time to get out of the way. Could have worked together with Four to get out quickly. Could of pulled Hyrule and himself off the ice. Could of could of could of. Wild never seemed to understand that risking your life is not always the first option. Still never understands it. He has this gift to come back from the dead and it’s gotten into his thick skull that if he can solve a particularly difficult problem by simply taking the blow and coming back, he’ll take it and there is nothing wrong with it.

Twilight never understood. It’s gotten Wild angry with him. Wild would try to make Twilight understand and Twilight would just get more and more agitated until finally they are separated via Time’s orders so they can calm down and call it a night.

Twilight would say how much he cares for Wild and he doesn’t want to see him dead. Wild would shoot back the same sentence with so much ferocity that Twilight is forced to let it go. At least he isn’t killing himself like he had done the first time, Twilight says to himself, at least he’s accepting health potions and fairies for his injuries even when they’re low in supply. At least Wild isn’t literally killing himself to save them.

But it isn’t stopping him from willingly and thoughtlessly putting himself in danger.

Twilight never understood.

He understands now.

There’s fire. And a lot of it. Twilight has only heard about the beasts that they’re up against, only seen the dead carcasses littering the plains and forests of Wild’s world.

“They’re all dead,” Wild had said with a almost reverent certainty the first time they had stumbled upon a corpse of a Guardian, “they died when Zelda and I defeated Calamity Ganon. All they’re good for now is scraps.”

A lot of strange stuff has been going on lately with all their worlds. They should have guessed, or at least prepared, for the possibility of one waking up and attacking. But they didn’t prepare. None of them, not even Wild himself, were ready for when the first eye blinked open with a menacing red flash and pushed itself out from the rubble that has tried to bury it over the years. A blood colored laser blinked to life and trained itself within moment’s onto Wind, a steady heartbeat of beeping piercing into the air, and Twilight, everyone, was frozen in spot because of fear, terror, horror, all those fun emotions. Thankfully, Wild knocked himself out of it pretty quickly, muscle memory forcing his hands to his bow before his brain could catch up. He loaded an arrow and shot it at the mechanical monster’s eye and a zing echoed in the air as the Guardian stumbled backwards on its eight legs, startled, but not a scratch.

“Run!” Wild screamed.

And oh, they did. Or they really tried to. If the Hero of the Wild was screaming at you to haul ass out of a fight you better listen. They would have probably gotten away before the Guardian found its bearings, but they were stopped in their tracks as another metal beast crawled over a close by hill, dragging a single injured leg behind it with its five remaining ones, it’s laser trained on Time who was leading the retreat.

So the next, logical, thing to do would be to turn and run to the left or the right, but a third Guardian, barely scooting across the ground with two working limbs, crawled from the side and the first one was now recovered and they found themselves surrounded, fighting their way out quickly becoming the only option out of this. The laser pointing at Time fired and they all jumped out of the way but the explosion sent them flying into different directions and the flames lit the ground despite how the morning dew still coated the grass.

They scrambled, Time stumbling from a very nasty burn on his leg and Four clutching his arm to his chest towards a particularly large boulder on the other side of the Guardian that had just fired at them. The other two had their lasers trained, the one that had fired was beginning the process of loading up its weapon. It was the safest route.

They thankfully managed to dodge around the second guardian towards the boulder and get behind the makeshift shelter before any shots can hit them. The boulder shook from the pure force of the deadly projectile hitting it straight on and fire blasted around the corners, making Sky (who was closest to the edge) cry out in shock as the flames licked his sailcloth.

“What do we do?” Time demanded, already they can hear the heavy steps of the monsters figuring out where their prey had gotten to. They had minutes at most to make a plan before the Guardians realized that they didn’t disappear, but were hiding.

The tortured, panicked, wide-eyed look Wild gave Time almost broke Twilight’s heart. The kid was always so sure about himself. Always having some sort of plan no matter how reckless or crazy it was. Right now, Wild looked lost, scared.

“Take them out one at a time?!” Wild said, his voice an octave higher than it’s normal range. “I don’t know! I’ve never fought three at the same time! I- go for the legs, the Master Sword would be best but any strong weapon will do. If it aims at you, fire it’s eye. Get them immobile- I-”

Wild looked at the verge of a panic attack, his eyes glistened and a hand went up to his arm, his scarred arm, like he was trying to pull himself together.

Another explosion hits the boulder, and another right after. Twilight brought his hands to his head as the structure behind them shook and chunks of rock fell down on them. They’ve ran out of time. The Guardian’s know that they’re there, and they want a fight.

“Sky,” Time barked over the roaring sound of fire around them, “take the Master Sword and get the legs of the least injured one. Wild, go with him. You’ll shoot the eye. Twilight, Four, and Legend, you three get two legged one, work together to get it’s legs. Legend, you’re on eye duty. Wind, Hyrule, Warrior, you’re with me. Wind, you’re in charge of the eye.”

At that was it. A barely thought out plan that everyone hardly had any time to agree or disagree to before a final blast broke their boulder in two. Everyone ran into battle, crying out, splitting off to their assigned enemies without a second thought.

And that’s where they are now. Fighting for their life.

Legend is a master of the bow. Not as good as Wild, but good enough. Good enough to release an arrow mid run and hit their target head on. Four bolted forward, lifting his sword into the air and jamming it into the first leg of the monster. Gears screeched together as the Guardian stumbles, but Twilight doesn’t wait for it to recover before he too is beginning his attack.

For a second, it all goes good. There is only two working legs and Four and Twilight each, with the support of Legend released an arrow every few moments, manage to shatter both of them. The Guardian crumbles to the ground, leaving it open for them to attack it’s body and within minutes, the eye shatters and blinks pitifully, metal bits falling as if relaxing in death.

For a second, Twilight thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

That was his mistake.

Because right after that second, Wind is screaming in pain as the guardian they were fighting manages to make a blow before Wind could stun it. Twilight spins on heel and takes in the complete chaos across from him. Time is rolling on the ground violently because of a leg that hit him, Hyrule is just managing to dodge to frantic legs above him, and Wind is scrambling to his feet, clutching his side, blood dripping down his forehead and fire singing his tunic.

Then another explosion shakes the ground as a misfired laser from the Guardian Wild and Sky are tag teaming on just manages to miss the group but explodes the earth past them, fire and debris shooting into the air like an evil monster itself, spreading it’s tendrils to destroy everything it touches.

The Guardian Sky is working on is thankfully stunned and injured thanks to a particularly nasty arrow sticking out at an odd angle in its eye, but it’s now firing rapidly, its four remaining legs frantically trying to find purchase.

“Legend- Four-” Twilight starts.

“On it, Twi,” Four says, grabbing Legends hand and rushing towards Time and the others. Twilight swallows and sprints in the opposite direction, towards Wild who is dodging out of the way of a misfired laser that almost didn’t miss.

Twilight grabs the bow on his back and shoots the Guardian again, hitting right in the middle of its eye and shattering the glass just a bit more. The metal creature seems to groan as its head spins around desperately looking for its target, but it jolts to the side as the Master Sword takes out yet another leg.

Wild nods in thanks and loads his own bow, firing at the eye, and Twilight rushes forwards, re taking his sword and slamming it into one of the remaining legs. There’s a couple close calls, this Guardian is a lot more fidgety and trigger happy than the other one Twilight somehow managed to defeat, but eventually, the last leg shatters with a mighty swing from Sky’s sword and the thing comes crashing down to the earth with a thud, firing fearfully into the air.

Wild runs forward and slams his sword down into it’s eye, sinking his weapon down into the hilt. Glass shatters and the Guardian shutters, blinking sadly, and shutting off with a pitiful whir.

Okay, Twilight thinks, now it can all get better now. There’s one left and Wild said he can fight these things one on one. He turns, Sky walking next to him, Wild climbing down from the dead beast.

The other guardian is literally on its last leg with the combined efforts of the rest of the group, it’s laser is blinking on Legend, who’s standing in front of an injured Wind, but Legend has his bow trained and is at that second releasing his arrow. His aim is true, but Twilight knows right then that something is horribly wrong.

The last Guardian’s laser was too loaded, too powered up to be simply shut off. It is knocked backwards, and the last leg breaking courtesy of Hyrule made it so it was looking directly at Wild when it finally released that explosive energy.

Twilight didn’t think. But in that moment, he understood.

He finally understood.

It the heat of the moment, Twilight didn’t have time to think about the options. About the consequences. About the ways everyone will make it out alive. He just surged forward, grabbed Wild by the shoulders, and shoved the kid behind him.

And then heat. Fire.

Agony.

His ears are ringing. He can’t breath. His skin feels hot and cold at the same time for a second and then he can feel nothing at all. Numbness takes over, and he’s left choking for air, staring up at the sky blocked by smoke. Orange flames lick the corner of his vision and that’s all he’s aware of. The fire. The smoke. The knives stabbing into his lungs with every breath he tries to take, even as the blurry outline of hands grab onto his tunic and drags him away from the fire.

The edges of his sight blur, his chest shutters, and he blinks and blinks and blinks until he can’t no more.

The last thing he’s aware of is Wild kneeling over him, trails of wetness glistening red with the fire running down his cheeks. There’s a cut on his chin, hair a little singed, but otherwise okay.

He’s okay.

And Twilight understands.

And with that, all the pain and worry leaves Twilight, and he enters the blackness of unconsciousness without any resistance.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Time didn’t know what… drew him towards Twilight.

From the first moment Time laid his eyes on the kid, he knew he would do anything to protect him, even before he figured out Twilight is a descendant. There’s just something about him that makes Time go crazy with protective urges and… almost attempts at parental guidance.

Time cares for each of the heroes on their group. Each have something so incredibly special about them, and their youth didn’t help with Time’s slow descent into “Dad Friend” territory, but Twilight was something… different.

If it was the way the kid instantly worried about others before himself, or the way he fought with a feral viciousness, or the intelligence that was always present in his gaze… whatever the case, Time eventually found that he saw himself in Twilight. And instead of that being a comfort, it made him almost go insane with worry. He wanted nothing more than to teach the kid to be himself, to not worry so much, to take the moment as it came, but he could never find the moments to teach those. Plus, Twilight always looked at him with a gaze that screams: “Don’t even start with me, old man” before he can even work up the courage to talk to him about it.

It takes a lot of courage to scold Twilight.

More courage than what Time had.

He planned to maybe leave him for Malon to chew out the next time they ended up at the ranch. Perhaps corner him in a quiet forest. Possibly just spit it out on the trail. Get him to understand that he’s young, and he doesn’t need to worry about everything, all the time, all day. He doesn’t need to swing his sword so hard, doesn’t need to lose sleep over other’s problems, doesn’t need to remember he has his own issues he should work out until it’s too late.

What a load of good those plans turned out to be, especially since Twilight is practically on his deathbed.

Or the “on the road” equivalent to it.

It’s a race against the clock, a race that Time can’t help but feel like they are losing. They were not prepared for a battle like Wild’s Guardians, they were not prepared for wounds or cuts or third degree burns. With the world constantly fading and morphing around them, they sometimes don’t have enough red potions or fairies for a broken leg, let alone burns so horrid that the scarred, blistering tissue of Twilight’s body outnumbers the unblemished.

One red potion. Courtesy of Four. Enough to stop most of the bleeding, but the burns are still so bad that Twilight is stuck in a perpetual fever and it’s only getting worse.

They have to find civilization, and fast.

And it doesn’t help that the world is no longer Wild’s, and no one recognizes the forest around them. The most they can do is walk until somebody recognizes where they are, the constant worry of maybe a town is in the opposite direction nagging at each of their brains.

Maybe they are somewhere in Twilight’s time, and none of them would know until they either find civilization or Twilight wakes up.

Finding civilization seems more likely.

Time winces when Warrior stumbles a little, jostling the makeshift stretcher they made with blankets, branches, and rope to tie it all together. Everyone has injuries, and with the single health potion being used to buy Twilight more time, Warrior is forced to push through a sprained ankle. Wind is the worst off from them all, sporting painful burns on his side and chest and various other cuts. He has a fever and is now half delirious from pain and exhaustion, forced to be carried along on the back of Sky. He isn’t in… immediate danger. He still needs medical attention. The rest of them thankfully all just have minor scrapes and bruises, a burn here and there but not enough to do much more than sting persistently.

Besides Twilight and Wind, it’s the emotional wounds that Time is more worried about.

Especially Wild.

Who hasn’t said a word in over five hours.

And there isn’t much Time can do about it. All Time can do is reposition his grip on the stretcher, ask Warrior if he needs to switch with someone, and let Four quickly check over Twilight.

“How is he?” Time asks.

Four sighs and pulls his hand away from Twilight’s forehead. The answer is in his pinched eyebrows and red rimmed eyes. “He needs help, old man,” Four replies softly after a second.

Time nods. And they continue their walk, because there is nothing more that they can do.

Time tries not to think about Wild, a few paces behind, hugging his arms around his body like he will crumble.

The walk continued, and no signs of human life ever presented itself. Warrior eventually had to switch with Legend so he could lean on Hyrule and give his injured ankle a much needed break. The walking only got slower from there, the weight of the stretcher and the body placed upon it only seemed to get heavier.

The sun travels. The forest continues.

Twilight begins to vomit blood in his sleep.

And that’s when any hope in the group shattered.

They were forced to stop. Moving Twilight any more would just quicken the inevitable. A grim mood falls over the group and the realization that unless help found them, Twilight is not going to make it. The least they could do is… make sure it’s not too painful.

They made a nest for him and placed him a generous distance away from the fire to not overheat him but also not to let the bite of the cooling night creep in too much. The mood of the group is grim. Time puts it upon himself to keep everyone together despite him wanting to break down himself. He stopped Hyrule from stomping off into the forest, a sword at his hip. He made sure Wind wasn’t alone as he sulked by the campfire by sending Four over to talk to him, maybe encourage him to allow them to change his bandages. He broke apart the argument Legend was trying to start with Sky for no reason at all. Warrior has closed in on himself and has announced that he will continue walking into the forest to find help, but Time forced him to sit down so he could better look at his ankle, trying to will Warrior to understand that there is nothing in their power to do, no matter how it pains the both of them.

Wild is at Twilight’s bedside. A solid arms distance away. Curled up in himself and simply staring at the bandages and scarred flesh.

Time may have told himself that he will make sure everyone is together and okay this night, but for many reasons he just couldn’t bring himself to quite confront Wild yet. He didn’t see what happened, but he saw the aftermath, and Sky saw it so he was told the details in quiet whispers a little while after. Twilight shoved Wild out of the way so he could protect the younger from the misfired blast of a Guardian.

Wild blames himself. Time doesn’t have any doubts about it. Wild is so ready to risk his life for others, but the second someone does it for him he goes to a place so deep in his own mind that Time isn’t sure that he can pull him back out without a fight. This is why Time has been dreading the moment he’ll have to talk to the kid, but he also knows Wild will do nothing but damage himself if left to his own thoughts. It’s already beginning, the distance Wild has set between himself and Twilight is a clear indicator of that.

Warrior clears his throat and Time is brought out of his worries, looking up from the makeshift split he’s been setting on Warrior’s injury. Warrior has a look in his eyes that lets Time know that they’re thinking about the exact same thing.

“I can talk to him,” Warrior says, voice low so no one but Time hears.

Time almost wants to agree. Warrior is fully capable of this task. He doesn’t talk too much about his trials, but Time does know he has lead armies into battle, into war. It’s in his name. He’s seen stuff like this before. Time’s sure he’s witnessed soldiers collapse in the heat of a fight; good soldiers, soldiers with friends and family waiting for them. Time could put this on him and let Warrior deal with the fallout of telling the hard truth to a boy who does not want to listen, to a boy who will only blame himself.

But Time also knows that he cannot dump this on Warrior. Time is responsible for the group, and he’s probably one of the only ones to truly know and understand Twilight.

The most important person in the entire world to Twilight wasn’t Zelda. It wasn’t Midna. Or Colin. Or Ilia.

It was Wild.

And that fierce… love went both ways.

No, no Time can’t let Warrior take the fall. The man may be a captain, a seasoned hero of war, but, in this group, Time is the leader. It’s his responsibility. He’s the only one that can do it.

“See if Four needs any help making dinner,” Time says, trying to give Warrior both a grateful and determined expression. Warrior studies him for a second, glances at Wild, then sighs.

“I trust you, old man,” he consents, though his voice still sounds stern, his look giving away nothing as he stands up and limps towards Four whose smacking Hyrule’s hand away with the spoon.

Time sighs and glances back over at Wild and Twilight, his heart tightening in his chest with indescribable worry and fear.

Don’t be a coward, Time. Rip it off like a bandage. Get it done and over with. Worry about the fallout later.

Finally, Time stands up, and before he could even hesitate he begins to walk towards the kid that’s supposed to be cooking right now. Towards the young man that’s losing the battle for his life. Towards two heroes desperately hurting in very different ways.

Time sets himself down next to Wild, and Wild doesn’t react. He just stares at Twilight and somehow manages to press his knees even closer to his chest. He doesn’t even spare a sideways look.

Slowly, with much unsurety, Time lowers a hand down onto Wild’s shoulder. Wild stiffens slightly, and usually that stiffening would go away after a few moments… but this time it sticks around. Time doesn’t let that deter him. He can’t afford to let it.

“How are you holding up?” Time asks.

Wild doesn’t respond, just takes a deep breath and lets it out. For a moment, Time really thinks that there will be no getting through to Wild. He’s too deep in his grief. Too deep to be pulled out by a few words and touches.

But then, Wild responds right when Time was about to jot this down as a hopeless venture.

“He won’t last the night,” Wild says, his voice thick. Wobbly.

Time swallows and follows Wild’s gaze down to Twilight, and for the first time since the incident, Time really looks at his protege. The skin not inflamed and blistered is pale and sickly green. Sweat is glistening off every inch of skin, soaking the bandages hiding the tendril like burns embracing his body. He matches Wild in the worst way possible. Destroyed tissue on his face, ear gone, scabs and puss staining the white cloth woven around his chest. He looks horrible. Looks like death. He’s probably in unimaginable pain and Time can’t help but think that Twilight not lasting the night would be a mercy.

“No,” Time croaks, “he won’t.”

Wild’s stiff shoulder suddenly jolts as he tightens his hold around himself, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat as he presses his eyes against his knees. Time sits there as Wild breaks apart, as another sob physically wracks through his small frame.

“It’s my fault,” Wild whimpers. “It’s all my fault…”

“No, cub,” Time says, heat threatening to break through his tear ducts, “it isn’t your fault-”

Wild only cries harder and Time does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his shoulders and presses the boy into his chest, holding him as tight as he can as Wild fully lost control of himself, cries of anguish and pain shooting out into the night. It’s loud, not a single emotion holding back, but Time doesn’t attempt to hush him. No one turns a judgmental eye towards them, all of them perhaps thinking the same thing.

It’s about time someone broke.

Time whispers every comfort he knows into Wild’s hair as he glances up at the others. Legend is leaning against a tree, glaring at the fire with a suspicious glisten in his eyes. Sky has Hyrule pulled under his arm in a comforting one armed hug, Hyrule’s shoulders shaking slightly while Sky glances at Time with an alone tear trailing down his cheek. Four and Warrior has stopped cooking, and by the looks of the pot sitting just off the fire, they have given up at it; neither are crying but both look very ready to, especially Warrior as Wind climbs into his lap and grasps around his waist, a look of pure sadness screwing up his youthful features.

Liquid finally breaks through, and Time doesn’t wipe the army of tears trailing down his face for a very long time.

Twilight stops breathing twice in the night.

They weren’t able to save him the second time.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Wild’s angry. Beyond angry.

The rage in his gut burnt with a fiery passion and the tree that came in front of him and his sword didn’t see it coming.

Neither did his now shattered sword.

But… that was weeks ago.

Now?

Now he’s just numb.

He doesn’t quite know how to… face it anymore. Anger, sadness, the whole process of grief didn’t work. It still hurts, It still clutches his heart and tear through his chest with every blink of his eyes, every flash of fire that came with each blink. It repeats, over and over and over and Wild’s pretty sure he’s tried everything to quench the guilt, the pain, and every time he ends up back at square one.

Alone.

He’s alone.

Alone and numb.

Numb because what’s the point of feeling anymore? All feeling does is hurt him, all feeling does is get the people he cares about killed.

It’s killed Mipha. Urbosa. Daruk. Ravio. It’s sentenced Zelda to 100 years of torture and solitude. It’s sent soldiers to die. It’s sent fields to burn. Mountains to fall. Dragons to become ill. Guardians to turn. So many people have died, gotten hurt, had their lives destroyed because of a boy named Link who decided to pull a sword out of stone, who thought he could be a hero.

All feeling is good for is causing a mess and leaving him to clean it up.

Twilight is just another name to add to the list.

So… he’s numb. The world passed easier that way. He made it through the funeral. The words they all said, that he stayed silent through. He made it through their group stumbling upon Ordon Village like some sick joke from the goddesses just a few hours later. Made it through Time telling the families there that their boy isn’t coming home. Made it through the crying children, the sobbing young woman beating against Time’s chest, the empty house filled with memories of a life snuffed out, the horse named Epona nipping at all their ears as if asking “Where is mine?”

He made it through all that without another temper tantrum. Without another break down, or panic attack, or any ugly crocodile tears. Made it through without saying a word even. He hardly remembers any of it, just the major details that his brain will naturally store away for him to remember in his nightmares. He has even avoided the temptations to grab his slate and hyper focus on every picture of Twilight that he has.

Because that hurts.

Numbness is better.

Yes, numbness is so much better, he thinks as he sits alone in a small clearing leading to a beautiful spring occupying a rather majestic stream of knee high waterfalls. He has just managed to avoid Time once again—the old man has been giving him a lot of looks lately and Wild is getting rather frustrated with them—and took off into the paths leading outside of the village he can’t wait to leave. He walked without purpose, only wanting to get away and not have the constant inkling at the back of his mind that tells him to tell them what really happened. Tell them all that Twilight didn’t die heroically, he died protecting a kid who can come back from the dead easily. He died trying to be a hero, only got himself killed in the process. If Twilight was thinking, he would have known that Wild might die from that blast, but he would have quickly came back. Twilight should have left it alone. He should have stepped aside and let the beam kill Wild for the second time in his life.

Instead, he got himself dead for a useless purpose. It’s Wild’s fault, he should have been paying attention so Twilight didn’t even feel the need to shove him back.

His fault…

No, no be numb.

He sighs and looks at the clearing and spring around him. It’s gorgeous here, and for a second he wonders if Twilight ever spent time here, if he ever played in that spring water or sat in this very spot watching the fish. He rubs a hand over his face, hoping to maybe banish those thoughts as well because they hurt and he really doesn’t want to hurt any more. He really doesn’t want to think about how even if Twilight used to spend time at this spring that his presence will never grace this place again.

Being alone is a bad idea, he realizes as he glares at the waters, thinking is a bad idea too, but thinking comes when one’s alone and he was never good at meditation.

But he also thinks being back at that village with his comrades and the kind strangers is a bad idea too. Wild can feel himself be wound tight light a string tied between two wild boars trying to run in the opposite directions. He’s succeeded for so long at ignoring the aching in his chest, but it isn’t like this is the first time he’s done this to avoid the hurting and churning. He’ll snap soon. He knows he will. It’s only a matter of time, and he’d rather do it silently and alone than loudly and with company.

A lung full of air. Out. The ripples in the water reflect the golden sunset. In. Breath wobbles. Out. Tears sting. In… his heart clenches. Out… the first unwanted whimper escapes.

In. A tear falls.

Out. His head sinks to his knees.

In.

He wants to scream.

Out.

He’s too busy biting his lips.

In…

Out… It’s his fault.

In… He didn’t get to say goodbye.

His breath catches.

He cant breath out. He’s sobbing now, his ears ringing. His brain is screaming at him to pull himself together, that he should just suck it up and ignore it like he’s done for so long—but then his heart clenches and he knows that he just let the dam burst. There’s no hope to stop the waters, they come out with every gasp, every whimper, every cry, every action to curl tighter and tighter within himself, and they’ll keep flowing until there’s no more water to flow, until he can work up the strength to build up the walls again.

It hurts. He hates it so much. Everything hurts.

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault.

Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda…

Twilight.

He cries harder. Faces. Names. Voices. It’s all too loud, and now instead of trying to ignore it he’s trying to drown it out with his own cries, his own pain. Maybe, if he shows how much he hurts, how much agony he’s in, the faces and blame will leave him alone for a little while longer. If he screams loud enough into his legs and arms, the voices will dim. If he-

Something brushes against his fingertips, and he’s startled out of his own misery, head shooting up to find that his fingers are resting in the golden, rippling water of the spring. His shoes are drowned up to his ankles, and his butt is soaked. Somehow, the water has risen, and now he’s sitting in it.

He blinks, wiping the tears from his cheeks and taking a gasping breath of air, and he looks at the waterfalls, trying to figure out how the water even rose in the first place. Oceans have tides, springs don’t. Or at least he doesn’t think they do. Not that it matters, he’s just… thankful that it managed to bring him out of his agony so it didn’t have to take it’s own time fading.

Something flashes at the top of the spring, at the third and highest waterfall section, and he blinks when the form of a silver creature catches his eye.

His breath catches in his throat when the figure comes a bit closer.

A wolf.

Thousand’s of emotions flicker through his head like a slideshow and he holds his breath as the wolf jumps down the first section of waterfall. It’s fur is a beautiful, glittering silver color that glitters like there’s a bucket of stars connected into each strand. He doesn’t even think to run or grab his sword, he’s too transfixed as the creature jumps down the next section and there’s not a single splash. Down the last and there’s white, familiar patterns on the muzzle and forehead of the creature.

He doesn’t dare breathe. If he breathes, whatever he’s seeing could turn out to be a sick joke.

The wolf pads towards him, head tilted slightly and those blue, blue eyes flashing with sadness and worry.

And then, the silver fur ripples like the pond it’s walking on. Flashing a pure gold and morphing to a taller, more human figure colored in grays and glowing whites like the moon. If Wild had blinked, one second a wolf would be tilting its head at him and the next he would be smiling down.

But he didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He’s terrified to.

“Hey, cub,” Twilight says, smiling.

And curse it, the dam breaks again, though, not in the same way as before.

He scrambles to his feet, golden water dripping from his clothes and splashing upwards with every desperate, running step he takes further into the spring. The smile on his face widens as Wild gets closer, but Wild can hardly even see through his tears as he launches himself forward in one last, desperate burst.

For a second, terror clutches his heart that he’s going to close his arms but they will only go through, but it’s too late to stop his arms, too late to stop his body, and the pure joy that fills his entire soul when he physically crashes into Twilight is intoxicating. If he’s dreaming, he will make the most of it and hold Twilight as tight as he can.

Twilight laughs and encloses his own arms around Wild’s body as they both stumble. Twilight sinks into the water and they fall together into the spring, drops splashing upwards and soaking both of them.

They hold each other. Wild has no plans on stopping as the tears fall again, as his chest lurches with his cries. Twilight doesn’t seem to mind a whole lot, in fact he helps position them both so they’re more cuddling compared to the mess of limbs they were before. The coolness of the running water ripples against their clothes and skin like a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” Wild chokes out after what must have been half an hour of just sitting there, hugging, and crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, cub,” Twilight soothes, “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. It was me, I made the decision.”

That makes Wild cry harder. His throat, stomach, and chest hurts so much.

“It’s alright, I’m here, it’s all okay, cub. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you again, I should have found you sooner.”

Wild shakes his head, because Twilight is trying to push the blame onto himself and nothing is okay, but he can’t work up the strength to argue anymore. He lets Twilight hold him as his shutters and gasping stops, lets Twilight continue to hush him and whisper comforts until there’s nothing but the spring water to pierce the silence of the evening forest.

It’s peaceful. Somehow, Wild feels more at peace than what he has felt in months. He doesn’t want to break it.

Twilight breaks it.

“I can’t stay much longer, cub,” he whispers and Wild bites his lip.

He knows how this works. Spirits can never stay long.

“I needed to see you,” Twilight continues, his voice sad, “and I needed to give you something.”

Wild lets Twilight grab his hands and help him to his feet. They’re both soaking, but the chilly breeze and the low sun doesn’t seem to affect either of them. He forces himself to look up at Twilight who is now standing just a arms distance away. His smile is sad, eyes glistening.

He opens his mouth, and cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. It’s so Twilight. It’s so him. The guy is like a child doing a bad impression of an adult in an actual adults body. He’s trying to be serious, to the point, factual, but Twilight is just as an emotional mess as Wild is, and he can never keep a straight face long even in the most serious of topics.

Wild feels like he can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“Look, I… I did what I did and I don’t want you to blame yourself, kid,” Twilight says and Wild’s lips thin, already preparing himself for the inevitable lecture. Trust Twilight to come back as a spirit and “give” him a lecture. Twilight must catch sight of Wild’s nonplussed expression because his face suddenly breaks out in to a splitting smile accompanied this time by a genuine laugh.

“Okay, okay, how about we leave that to the old man, huh?” He jokes.

“Why… are you here?” Wild asks, and man does his voice sound unused. Raw.

Twilight licks his lips and brings his hand to the back of his neck. “I… I can’t just leave you. Alone. I can’t. I’ll never be able to rest if I don’t know you’re safe.”

He sucks in a deep breath and Wild watches with wide eyes as Twilight reaches towards his chest and there’s a bright flash of golden light that has Wild blinking spots from his eyes. Within a second, Twilight is standing before him with an orb cradled in his hands, a blood red color.

Twilight isn’t looking at Wild, but down at the orb like he himself is fascinated by it. The corners of his lips tilt slightly upwards and he sighs. “Go, and do not falter, my child,” he says softly, as if to himself, but Wild doesn’t get to question it because Wild looks up at with with a set jaw and determined eyes. “Take it.”

“I-”

“Cub. Please. I love you so much. The gods gifted me this form in life… I want you to take it, and be safe. I have no need for it anymore.”

He holds out his hands and Wild cups the orb in his hands, waterworks starting up again, but he quickly wipes them away with his shoulder as the warmth of the orb dissolves in his palms, spreading over his fingers like a liquid and trailing up his arms to the center of his chest, where there’s a burst of golden light and the familiar feeling of something greater than himself entering his being. He feels warm. He feels safe.

Suddenly, he’s pulled back into a fierce hug and Wild grasps onto Twilight’s clothes because he knows, he knows it’s almost over. It’s almost time to part. To say goodbye.

“Promise me, cub” Twilight whispers into his hair, “promise me you will be safe.”

“I… I promise.”

-o-o-o-o-

At first, he was afraid.

Now, he’s loved.

He’s running, faster than what he’s ever ran before. The world is at his heels, branches and leaves whip past his snout as he pushes harder, faster, breathing hard and going going going-

Going where? Not sure yet.

All he knows is that… he’s free. The world is nothing but a blur zipping past his gaze, streaking past his pumping legs, left behind his tail.

He never wanted Revali’s Gale, or Urbosa’s Fury, or Daruk’s Protection.

He never wanted Mipha’s Grace.

The thought of owning the powers of his dead comrades, dead friends, set his stomach in a knot, but they were always useful. He learned to get used to it. Learned to appreciate the gifts he was given and use them in the best way he knew how.

He never wanted this gift either. Goddess, if you were to tell him that someday the Hero of Twilight would pass away, would sacrifice himself to save him, and then give him a very special ability that was such a huge part of who Twilight was… he probably would have thrown hands.

But… it’s been a few months since that meeting, since the funeral, since the death. Wild has learned to… appreciate it. Twilight is right, this gift definitely made him feel less alone. Every time he uses it (at first reluctantly, now whenever he gets the chance), he can feel Twilight watching over him from some unknown plane of existence. He can feel the warmth, and it’s not the dirty blond fur on his body radiating that heat. It’s a different kind of heat.

“I know you’ll find this gift useful,” Twilight had said, before he finally faded away, “I certainly did. Whenever you use it, I want you to remember how many people are there for you, how many people would fight for you. There are so many of them. Take it. Use it. Twilight’s Love is now yours… well, it always has been.”

Wild howls, feeling strong, feeling free, feeling loved, as he pushes himself faster up the hill, tongue lolling out of his panting jaws. Someone calls out his name and he sprints harder, barreling through the grass and jumping into the open arms of none other than Wind. Wind laughs from the bottom of his stomach, small fingers climbing up and latching themselves into Wild’s fur. Time stands off a small distance, the others not far behind, all smiling.

A broken family, all doing their best to remain strong.

And there’s something graceful about that, isn’t there?

#jin writes #fan fic #fanfiction #linked universe #hero of the wild #hero of twilight #hero of time #hero of the wind #hero of legend #hero of hyrule #hero of the sky #hero of warriors #hero of the four sword #major character death #description of injury

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tuliharja · 4 years ago

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Oh, the otp asks are so interesting! Would you consider for HashiMito answering the following: 3, 9, 12, 21 and 24? I hope it's not too much, but with canonical, and so politically-involved couple those are super interesting.

Thank you so much from the ask @olliya!

Yes, I agree to you! OTP asks are always so interesting~. And I don’t mind at all, since HashiMito is one of my otps, so I was really happy to receive this ask from you! Not to mention the fact you picked very interesting ones. Thank you again from the ask. ^^

(The asks can be found from here.)

Alright, let’s put those shipping goggles on! *Cue for a very long post.*

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Hashirama would probably try to write sonata to Mito and once he would realize it’s much harder than it seems, he would end up asking Tobirama to help. With the help of Tobirama, Hashirama would make most brilliant sonata ever, but once he would present it to Mito…she would be left highly unimpressed.

“Hashirama, did you perhaps ask help from Tobirama?” Mito questioned from her husband, before she sighed. There wasn’t any reason to ask that question when she already knew the answer, yet watching her husband turn into a spluttering mess brought her some sort of amusement. Deciding to be merciful, Mito gently cupped Hashirama’s cheeks, giving him kiss to his forehead. “Hashirama, you don’t have to make me sonatas, poets, or anything that would be too elaborate. As long as it becomes from your heart, I don’t mind even if your compliments would be extremely tacky.”

She watched how her husband slowly turned into a sobbing mess, gently brushing his hair as she merely allowed him to relax in her arms.

After that incident, Hashirama would gift Mito flowers. Being the expert, anything related to plants, he would know each and every flower and those meaning. He probably wouldn’t be best with actual words, but each bouquet would hail Mito’s beauty, kindness, power and how lucky he was when Mito did choose him.

Mito would had mastered the use of words, because she would know how valuable the talent of speaking would be. She could make even most praising comment sound like most wicked insult ever. That’s why, she would rarely compliment Hashirama as she knew her husband already received lots of compliments as he wasn’t any ordinary man. Repeating those same compliments would sound just hollow, empty and she didn’t want that. She would also know repeated words would turn meaningless, so she would rarely use endearing words about Hashirama.

To everybody else she would seem cold as ice, but in those rare moments when she would compliment Hashirama, he would take those into his heart and cherish those. Such occasions would be when Hashirama would manage to genuinely surprise her, show genuine understanding about her feelings and hopes, and take into consideration her wishes. But the most cherished moment would be when Mito would finally admit to Hashirama she was pregnant, while she was a Jinchuuriki. Hashirama would reassure her he wouldn’t leave her and make his best to ensure both she and the child would be safe. After she would calm down, she would spill her heart to Hashirama, telling how blessed she was to have such wonderful husband that would still stand next to her even when she was carrying Tailed-Beast. She would hail his strength, kindness, understanding and way too big heart. Later on, that night they both would compliment each other’s bodies in very sensual manner. ;)

9. Have they made each other cry?

Yes, since what would marriage be without any tears? There have been happy tears, but also sad ones. Happier tears have been in happy occasions, such as when they got married, when their first child did bear and when Mito would tickle the hell out of Hashirama. Who said Mito couldn’t be mischievous when she would want to? They’ve also been crying tears of joy when they got their second born (because it’s kind of their own fault they got a child, now isn’t it? xD)

There has also been tears, when Hashirama has tried to cheer up Mito when she has had extremely bad day when dealing Nine Tails just to see her wife happy. But there has also been tears of sadness as at times Hashirama’s gambling problems would be too much for the stressed-out Mito. She would hide her tears, but Hashirama would know. He would eventually weed out his gambling problem, when they were at the risk of losing their home and the tear-streaked look Mito gave? Yeah, absolute broke Hashirama’s heart. There would also been tears when each of them would get so badly wounded, they would be at the brink of death. One of such was after Mito sealed Kyuubi inside of her. Hashirama was sure Mito would perish as it seemed holding down the beast was too much for her. Hashirama’s eventual death also made Mito cry as she felt like her whole world collapsed at that exact moment, but such is life: many different types of causes which can make one cry.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Many people think they would have, but in reality, they don’t have expect in minor businesses. The political field can be extremely messy, especially when considering the fact Hashirama was doing something (building first ninja village) that hadn’t ever been done before.

Before Mito married Hashirama, she understood right to way for things to work she had to do some groundbreaking thinking. She knew if she married Hashirama, she wouldn’t just switch her Uzumaki family to Senju family, like in old times. No, what Hashirama was offering was that, she could still be Uzumaki and Senju. In old times, when one was wed to some more powerful clan, you had automatically become part of that clan. You had to basically throw everything that you had been before, expect your ninja talents. While you could gain a new and possible better family, there was always that fear if your spouse would die. If your spouse would die, you would automatically become an outcast. Just fodder to be used in next fight against some other clan, unless you would marry someone else or become a concubine. The option to go back to your old home wasn’t anymore an option, since you had quite literally been kicked out from there. Of course, some bigger clans treated this possibility much ‘nicer’, but the fact was, your position would still be bad compared to anyone who had born in the clan.

Now this Hashirama was offering something else. A village where you wouldn’t be an outcast, should such a thing occur. Hashirama painted all pretty pictures how they all would be one ‘big happy family’. Of course, Mito knew such thing would take time. But the possibility was tempting and since Mito didn’t want to forget her roots even if she would marry someone, she agreed upon this. She even went so far as convince Uzumaki clan to make their own village, Uzushiogakure, as the Uzumaki clan wasn’t yet ready to be part of some other village. In that way, Mito could keep one leg in her home and one in her new one. It also served as a way to ensure she wouldn’t be treated poorly in her new home, since at times when one would be married to some other clan, the new clan could treat the new spouse extremely badly. Of course, she didn’t have to worry about that (given the fact Hashirama was Hokage).

As time went on, Mito started to see better Hashirama’s views. She liked quite many of those as if those all would become true, there wouldn’t be anymore war, everybody would be treated equally and the children would be taken care of by everybody, even if their parents would die. Of course, she disagreed upon some things her husband suggested, such as sharing Tailed-Beasts between each newly formed village, but to make things work she understood everybody should have equal power at the palm of their hand. She also disagreed when some clans that joined Konoha would get some privileges such as Hyuugas, but since they were newly formed village that was striving for something new, even she understood some sort of bait was needed to get them join them. Things like these made disagreements between her and Hashirama as at times she felt like Hashirama didn’t care or see wrongness that he tried so much to weed out. Times like those, she felt like the village mattered more to her husband than anything else… in those darker times, she would deliver some cold facts to her husband that would make him despair over some of his choices. In those times, Mito would see the man behind the God of Shinobi whom she would comfort as she knew for things to work, they had to stand united together or watch the world burn.

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

Hashirama believes his actions toward Madara did drive Mito to seal Nine Tails inside of her which basically did change her in more ways than anyone could had at first believed. While that was true, what Hashirama had hard time to grasp was the fact Mito did it willingly. Hashirama felt incredible guilt about that, because that event made Mito more prone to display her negative emotions. While that might sound like a good thing, because before that Mito tended to hide her negative emotions, it wasn’t at all fun and games when Nine Tails’ negative chakra was leaking out of Mito and she was trashing Hashirama around their house like a ragdoll. In those moments when Mito was very upset or angry, she reminded more a wild animal more than a person.

At first it was very hard, since Hashirama quickly learned Mito had tons of pent-up anger in her. His paperwork being late? Angry kyuubi-Mito. Him forgetting the dishes? Angry kyuubi-Mito. For a while it felt like there were two people inside of Mito, which was true. It took lots of patience, motivational talking and reassurance from Hashirama to make Mito understand not to hide her ire, no matter how small it would be. Eventually Hashirama managed to make Mito embrace her more ‘negative’ self that actually improved their relationship greatly. It also helped Hashirama to understand Mito better.

While Hashirama was already a stunning leader even before Konoha was founded, he was extremely poor what came to social skills. He could give motivational speeches to anyone, but if he had to make deals, small talk, simply listen or anything that would need any kind of ‘fine’ talk, he would more than often ask Tobirama’s help. Yet that behavior wouldn’t anymore cut when he become Hokage. He couldn’t anymore push Tobirama to deal with the stuffy, boring affairs and go train with their students. Which is where Mito stepped in. She put Hashirama through a mini hell to drive into his thick skull at least the bare minimum of social skills. It opened a whole new world to Hashirama. While before his overbearing personality had made some people feel uneasy and even that, he didn’t realize they might actually have brilliant ideas, he would now calm down and listen them. His relationship even with Tobirama did improve, because now he would listen his little brother giving him a speech of his latest invention, that actually made Hashirama understand Tobirama and him weren’t that different. They both were passionate people, yet because he barely before did stop to listen his brother’s ‘odd ideas’ he never knew.

While Mito’s social skills course did bring lot of good things out of Hashirama, it also brought his darker side. Hashirama could now use his ‘happy-go-lucky’ character at times as a façade to gather information and later on use it against Konoha’s enemies as most of his opponents only saw a fool front of them. But Mito teaching how to wear a mask in important meeting? Hashirama was eternally grateful to his wife about that.

24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

When Mito married Hashirama she vowed to herself she would protect Hashirama, no matter what. But to do so, she had to do it while remaining hidden. She would protect Hashirama from the shadows, even going so far as kill someone if they threatened her husband. She would even create secret service, ANBU, just to protect her husband. They were an organization that worked in the shadows, that no-one knew, especially Hashirama. Expect, Hashirama did knew. He knew exactly what his wife was up to, yet he never addressed it as he waited Mito tell him about it. When years went by and Mito still didn’t tell him, Hashirama started to feel uneasy. He would drop intentionally questions or make scenarios that could make a perfect opportunity for Mito to tell about her role in ANBU and the organization itself. But she never did. It started to eat Hashirama in and out. While he knew Mito had her best intentions toward him, it still made Hashirama feel like unworthy of the truth. Didn’t Mito trust him? Did she think he was still that fool that she had met those years ago? Hashirama wanted to trust Mito, but he didn’t want to confront her. It wouldn’t had been same as if she would tell herself the truth.

To numb the pain Hashirama turned into drinking and gambling. With a good buzz he could make his doubts away as it would leave his core thoughts: that which were love. Gambling also brought a thrill to him that he hadn’t felt ever since he had become a Hokage. Maybe Mito wanted simply feel thrill? The adrenaline that would pump to his veins when he would bet everything to win or lose was just exhilarating. Though each time when he would lose and face upset Mito, he would feel a sting of guilt just to remember his wife’s secret. So, another night with gambling it was! Hashirama’s actions were slowly spiraling out of control and he only came into a rude awakening of reality when he faced tear-streaked Mito. She told him they were about to lose their house and everything, if he wouldn’t just stop. It was that moment the two realized they had to change, or they would lose them. Mito was stressed over the fact she tried to keep Hashirama safe, but it was harder than she had first believed, while Hashirama had tried to escape his problems with drinking and gambling. This event was one of those turning points with them as they slowly started to unravel those all. Eventually Mito told Hashirama the truth which lead into his own confession, making both of them to forgive each other and slowly strengthen once again their strained relationship. But even though they had managed to tackle this particular obstacle on their married path, there was still one big obstacle that had been slowly marinating.

While Mito understood in some level Hashirama’s deep friendship with Madara, at times it was extremely hard. In most situations like these, one would pick in a heartbeat their partner. But in Hashirama’s case, it wasn’t ever that simple. While Mito trusted Hashirama, it still made her at times doubt herself and her position as his wife. When she tried to talk about her doubts, most people would dismiss her and tell her how lucky she was. She was married to “God of Shinobi”, so why she was complaining? Wasn’t it beautiful her husband was friends with his childhood friend who had been Senjus mortal enemy? It made Mito hide her doubts and concerns as she all but turned eventually a blind eye her feelings. The worst part was that, Madara was actually nice toward her. But it all came crashing down when she sealed Kyuubi and she realized hiding her negative feelings wasn’t anymore that easy. Her all doubts came flying out of the box that had been hidden deep within her heart. She knew she had to learn to forgive her foolish husband his past ignorance and be more straightforward with Hashirama as Hashirama could be at times very dense. She eventually did forgive Hashirama when he showed her, she was extremely important to him and being friends with Madara didn’t take out or lessen his love toward her.

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sheepyships-archive · 4 years ago

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what if you.....answered all of them......for tsuki 😳 — @cringyalienships

t...tsukishima?? oh my fuckin god ofc scout you know me so well. thank you for sending an ask! @cringyalienships (gonna be answering w my self-inserts/ocs bc they’re basically me just look not like me shhdgsj-)

strawberry: before getting together, how did your F/O realize they had a crush on you? How did they act around you once they realized they were head over heels?

uhh, well, it’s tsukishima, it was probably something that built up that he tried to repress it and brush it off like it was nothing, but when he couldn’t and he realized it was romantic feelings, he was probably like, “fuck my life.” and he couldn’t bring himself to hate aika for it, because she was just being herself and doesn’t have control over his feelings. as much as he wanted to avoid her, or be cold to her, he also couldn’t bring himself to do that either(he believed that he didn’t deserve her(BRUH), but even though he thought that, he wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt her to make her avoid him), so he just continued on with life, but eased up with teasing her than with others, and even joked with aika to try and get closer. he just waited to see any signs of her feeling the same way. (LET KEI TSUKISHIMA BE SOFT 2020 I WILL FIGHT ON THAT)

rose petal: what traditions do you and your F/O share?

for holidays, they definitely celebrate halloween together, aka: aika forces tsukishima to wear a costume while saying “i got this for you with my money, you have to wear it” and he just groans and puts it on reluctantly while complaining. but usually they go to a store and buy a bunch of candy instead of going house to house(they both agreed that it's better if they just went and bought candy than walking around for two hours). occasionally they will hang out with some of the others. just normal traditions between them are probably doing things like listening to music together, or talking about music or suggesting/showing music and bands to each other(this happens a lot more than they like to admit), and this can go on for HOURS.

cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

they both show it in small ways in public by helping with schoolwork/studies, sharing earbuds, even just looking at each other, they don’t want a bunch of people to flock around them just to ask about their relationship, so they aren’t super affectionate. but when they are alone, they act like they’ve been touch-starved for their entire lives, and are basically holding onto or resting on the other at every moment, and a lot of the time they nap or spend the night at each other’s houses. but, whenever either of them get hurt, whether they’re in public or not, they will immediately go to them and patch them up/help them feel better the best they can(whenever tsukishima’s hands get injured while playing volleyball, she’ll kiss the spots that hurt, and tsukishima will kiss the callouses on aika’s hands from playing guitar, or any other injuries or scars).

coconut mango: what mementos do you and your F/O treasure?

they definitely cherish letters/origami crafts they give each other(aika makes origami gifts for tsukishima, tsukishima writes letters, i don’t make the rules). but the one they both treasure the most is a small dinosaur plushie that aika was able to get at an arcade, which she secretly bought with the arcade tickets that she won. as they were leaving she looked at tsuki and said, in the most serious tone she could muster, “i have to admit something to you.” at first this kinda freaked him out at first until she took out the dinosaur plushie with a huge grin, that earns her a glare and a elbow jab to the shoulder which made her laugh. aika always brings it to tsukishima’s house with her and he teases her about it.

nectarine: do you and your F/O live together? If so, what does your living space look like?

while they don’t live together at the moment, they definitely plan on living in a small apartment and aika has more experience in getting an apartment and living in one. they kinda just knew their plans without ever talking about it, and when aika does mention it to him, he just says, “i mean, it doesn’t need to be a mansion or a big house, we don’t need a whole lot. i definitely don’t, just you... and your snake.” aika falls in love for a second time, but also smacks his chest and is like, “YOU JUST WANT ME FOR MY SNAKE!!!” which makes them both laugh.

pineapple: what toppings does your f/o like on their pizza? what about you?

tsukishima is the basic bitch who would only like plain cheese on his pizza(i can’t say much though), and that’s it, he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to ask for extra shit on his pizza. aika likes those burger pizzas, where they have burger shit on a pizza, she is in love with it and tsukishima definitely makes fun of her for it and they get into small debates about which is better.

lemon sorbet: does your F/O get jealous easily?

i don’t see tsukishima getting jealous easily, and if he does, it’s rare. he knows that aika is SUPER loyal to him and their relationship, and would probably insult someone if they tried to get her to break up with tsukishima or if they began to flirt with her(something she definitely adopted while being with tsuki), and he’d never do it to her either and doesn’t see the point in doing it when he has a girlfriend who he cherishes a lot. they are both head over heels for each other.

key lime: how would you describe your self-ship’s aesthetic?

tsukishima literally IS the smart cocky kid aesthetic, blonde bitch boy, but with the glasses. now aika is literally an emo but also a chaotic mom friend, but she also has a pinch of pastel goth. both together they probably have the intimidating “we look like nerds, but we could beat you up, and we will depending on the situation.” but they’re also super chill so they won’t unless it’s necessary(aika will throw hands for tsuki if you push her to that point, so don’t test her).

pistachio: when was the last time that you or your F/O cried during a movie?

one night aika probably brings over the land before time(my childhood movie it is so good) and forces tsukishima to watch it, and after some convincing they do. at the hella sad scene at the start(if you know you know), as they’re watching it aika starts to tear up, and buries her face into tsuki’s shoulder to hide it, but her crying was a mix of the scene being sad, and it reminding her of past shit that happened. tsukishima realizes she’s crying and before he thinks about teasing her, he realizes that it’s not just because of the movie and just hugs her instead while pausing the movie, waiting for her to calm down. but after she does, he teases her jokingly to try and make her laugh, it works, of course. (you can see where the angst side of me came out)

matcha: what kind of gifts does your F/O give you? Are they always buying you little presents or do they invest only in larger items for birthdays or holidays?

they’re never really buy gifts unless it’s a special occasion, but most of the time they’ll make playlists for each other since they both like music, and like i said before, aika gives me the vibes that she would make origami-themed things and break into tsuki’s locker and leave them there, or she’ll just leave them on his desk, or in his room, etc. OH AND AND!! whenever the earbuds/headphones they have break, they definitely end up with a new pair by the end of the day with a note that says ‘try not to break these ones, love you. <3′.

blue moon: is your F/O very routine-oriented or do they like to go with the flow? How routine-oriented are you?

tsukishima is semi-routine-oriented, go to school, go to volleyball club, go home, study, listen to music, sometimes it’ll change depending on what happens or what is occurring in the future. he probably doesn’t mean to do it on purpose and doesn’t stress over a schedule, it’s just what comes to him naturally. with aika, she just goes with the flow, she used to be more heavily routine-oriented in middle school because she was more popular then and felt pressured to be “perfect”, and went through life on a schedule. but after meeting the people she hangs out with in highschool(aka monti), she fell out of it and began to just, not really care?

cotton candy: post the last picture of your F/O that you saved!

i don’t think y’all realize how much i love this and how many times i have this picture and the gif saved, it’s not healthy.

teaberry: where would you like to travel with your F/O someday?

honestly, they probably try to look up museums to go to that are more based around dinosaurs and dinosaur fossils, where they are, how much it would cost to go there, etc. they want to make sure everything is perfect if they do ever travel anywhere. but honestly, even if everything went wrong, they would both probably think it was perfect anyways because they’re together.

raspberry swirl: how does your F/O cheer you up when you are feeling down?

usually whenever aika is feeling down out in public, even if they’re in the same room, tsukishima will shoot her a text with a link to a song he found with a text that reads: ‘reminded me of you, i hope you know that i’m here if you need someone to talk to. i love you.’ after sending it, he watches her reaction and relaxes when he sees her smile and look at him. but in private, he’ll hug her from behind and hold her, letting her do what she needs to do to feel better, whether it’s crying, sitting there in his arms, hugging him back, etc. after awhile he’ll start to kiss her face, shoulders, hands while mumbling ‘i love you’ after every kiss. then afterwards he’ll say, “this stays between us.” and this makes aika almost cry laughing.

red velvet: what is your favorite food to bake with your F/O?

they for sure make cookies together, specifically chocolate chip cookies, they both agree that chocolate chip is the best and make them together. usually, it’s tsukishima doing most of the cooking because aika is goofing off, or gettng distracted by her friends, and she will definitely steal cookie dough and be sneaky about it, but tsukishima catches her EVERYTIME, even when he’s not looking he just knows, and can sense it. but when they finish, they are super good and aika always praises him about it. aika also definitely makes tsukishima dino-themed treats and food in general, which makes tsukishima glare at her and say, “y’know i like other things, right?” and aika just shrugs and comments, “dinosaurs and reptiles remind me of you, sooooo...”

OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND TOOK ME SO LONG TO TYPE UP I GOT VERY DETAILED AND LIKE MULTIPLE TIMES I HAD TO STOP AND CALM DOWN BC I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS DUDE LIKE JWJWHRFJHWERJ???? ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!!!!

#sylvie . answers ➷#sylvie . rambles ☙#🌕 fill . the . void 🎧#hq!!#haikyuu!!#👾 scout .#sylvie’s f/o ask game 1!!

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phantasticworks · 5 years ago

Text

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Ten

hi guys!! Back with chapter ten. I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe at home (if you can) Thank you for all the sweet comments on this story so far, it literally means the world to me :’’)

read on ao3

Words: 10k

Summary: Dan and Phil have a few disagreements.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing, mentions of past trauma (but subtle)

Over a week passes by the time Dan realizes that they haven’t addressed the Levi situation again. Not once had it been brought up, and he was starting to get antsy about it. Not doing anything felt just as bad as doing something that turned out to be the wrong thing, so eventually, Dan decides to take things into his own hands. He knows, even as he dials the number, that he needs to speak to Phil about it again, that they need to sit down and have a serious conversation about it, but right now that’s the last thing on his mind.

“You’ve reached Hazel at Bridging the Gap Fostering; what can I do for you today?”

Dan swallows hard before answering, and double checks that the door to his office is shut. “Hi, Hazel, this is Daniel Howell.”

Hazel’s voice immediately shifts. “Oh! Hello, Dan, how are you? Is everything alright?”

“I’m well, thanks. Everything is fine, the twins are doing well.” He hesitates before continuing. “They’ve started school, and they really seem to enjoy it.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m glad they seem to be adjusting well.” Hazel seems to realize then that the twins aren’t the reason he’s calling, and her voice picks up a more serious tone. “I have a feeling you didn’t just call to give me an update: is that right?”

Dan laughs uneasily at the astute assumption. “Yes, you’d be right about that. I actually had something I needed to speak to you about, regarding the twins.”

“Is everything okay, Dan?” Hazel sounds nervous herself now, and Dan nearly laughs again.

“I mean, that’s sort of for you to tell me. It’s weird, so just give me a moment to explain.”

“Alright,” Hazel says slowly, sounding more than a little apprehensive.

“So, I’ve overheard a couple conversations of the twins, and on both occasions, they’ve mentioned someone called Levi.” He pauses then, waiting to see how Hazel would react. If she knows anything, he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to tell.

“Alright, and who is Levi?” She asks, clueless.

He releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relieved at not having been lied to. “I’m not sure, actually. That’s why I wanted to speak to you.” He collects all of his thoughts. “I could be wrong, but I think… I think maybe they have a brother.”

“What?”

As Dan recounts the conversations he’d heard the twins have, he can tell that Hazel is just as intrigued as he is, and probably just as stumped. He can hear typing on her end, and he wonders if maybe there’s some sort of database that allows her to check for possible siblings.

“And that’s all they’ve said about him,” Dan finishes finally. “But that’s enough for Phil and I to speculate, you know? And I didn’t want to just ask them about it, you know, I wasn’t sure if it would be traumatic, or-“

Hazel cuts him off then, her voice gentle. “You did the right thing, Dan. I need to look into it a little more to be sure, but you definitely made the right choice to come to me first.”

Dan lets out a sigh of relief. “Great,” he breathes out. “So, do you think you’ll be able to find out for sure who he is?”

There’s more typing, and Hazel sounds a little distracted when she answers. “Yes, I think so. I need to call Stephanie at the other agency to know for sure, since it was her case first, and hopefully she can give me some answers.”

“Thanks, Hazel.”

“No, thank you for letting me know about this. It’s very rare that they separate children like that, and I’m shocked the twins didn’t ask any direct questions to me or you and Phil. I’ll try to find out what I can, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks. Just give me a call when you know something?” He requests.

“Sure, Dan.”

Dan bids her goodbye then, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. He hopes that she finds out something soon, and hopefully whatever it is that she discovers will be enough to relieve his anxiety about it just a little.

His phone chimes with a text, and he finds himself smiling before he even checks it, already knowing who it is.

Phil: Want to meet for lunch? I’ll pay

Dan: free lunch? Yes mate

Phil: smh you only want me for my money

Dan: um yeah?

Phil responds with an eye rolling emoji, and Dan snickers before telling him he would meet him for lunch at twelve.

Time passes predictably slow but eventually he was leaving for lunch, calling to Louise that he’d see her in an hour. As nosy as she is, she predictably leaned out of her office and gave him a narrowed gaze. “Where are you going?”

Dan rolls his eyes at her. “I’m meeting Phil for lunch,” he informs her, twirling his keys around his fingers.

Louise smirks at him. “Have fun, babe, see you later. Tell your man I said hello!” She winks suggestively as she waves him off.

Dan resists the urge to flip her off, heading out the door with a grumble. Despite how he acted though, he really wasn’t bothered by Louise’s teasing, if anything it usually just made him laugh. He knew it was just in good fun, and sometimes it gave him a warm feeling to pretend that the thing she was teasing him for was real. That was a dangerous game though, one that he wasn’t very keen on playing when he didn’t have to.

When he pulls up at the café he’d agreed to meet Phil at, he can spot Phil waiting just inside at a table, scrolling on his phone as he sips at what Dan assumes is a caramel macchiato. He hums to himself as he walks inside, smiling when Phil glances up at him. Seeing the other hot drink waiting for him, he moves over to the table rather than going to the counter to order, sliding into the empty seat.

“Hi,” he greets, knocking his feet against Phil’s playfully as he picks up the cup.

“That’s hot,” Phil warns, watching as Dan sips from it anyway, unbothered by the near-scalding liquid rushing over his tongue.

“And what?” Dan says mockingly.

Phil shrugs, then giggles. Even as he tries to hide it, Dan notices and quirks an eyebrow. “I just remembered something funny,” he explains vaguely, sipping at his own drink.

“Care to share?” Dan drawls.

“Dan is not on fire, more like Dan is on fire,” he snickers, grinning when Dan only glowers at him.

“That was like ten years ago! Can’t you let my stupid old username rest in peace?”

“Never! It’s fond mems, Dan; can’t let that go.”

Dan rolls his eyes at the explanation before tilting his head to the counter. “Did you order already?”

“I did. I only got here a few minutes before you, so it’ll probably be a few minutes.”

Nodding, Dan sips from his drink again, his eyes darting to look out the window. “It’s getting colder,” he observes.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know if the twins have winter coats?”

Phil shrugs. “I don’t know, actually. I haven’t noticed any in their closet, so I don’t guess so.”

“We should go shopping in a few weeks then. Just in case.” Dan stirs at his drink, debating whether or not he should tell Phil about the call with Hazel.

Before Phil has a chance to respond, their waitress is interrupting them with their food. “Do you guys need anything else?” She asks cheerfully, all smiles as she looks between the two of them, her gaze lingering on Phil.

Dan huffs, almost amused at her obvious staring. Almost. “We’re fine, thanks.” He not so subtly reaches for his cup with his left hand, not missing the way her eyes widen when they fall on the ring. He pointedly glances down at Phil’s left hand as well when the girl studies him, smirking when she blushes after noticing the matching ring on his hand.

“Oh, um. Well, enjoy your meals!” She calls, sounding embarrassed as she goes to leave.

Dan smirks around his drink, assuming that Phil had been oblivious to the whole interaction. His amusement is cut short, however, when he hears Phil snort.

“You really enjoy making people uncomfortable by making them think we’re together, don’t you?” He sounds bitter, and the smile is wiped off Dan’s face when he glances up at him.

“What?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Phil rolls his eyes, his annoyed huff audible from across the table. “I saw you smirking after she brought our food. Does it really amuse you so much for random strangers to get uncomfortable seeing us as a gay couple?”

Dan’s jaw drops. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that Phil was offended for an entirely different reason. He nearly laughs when he realizes that Phil likely just thinks he was just trying to queer bait or something for his own personal amusement. “No, Phil. God, no. Did you see how she was looking at you? Like, c’mon, man, she clearly fancied you.”

Phil looks confused. “And? Even if she did, what the hell was that about?”

Dan shakes his head, laughing once without humor. “I don’t know, I guess I just-“ he stops himself when he realizes he was about to say he was jealous, or something equally as ridiculous. “I thought it was weird for her to be looking at you that way.”

A hurt look crosses Phil’s face. “Why, because it’s weird to think that someone would actually look at me like that?” He sounds offended, and Dan knows that if he doesn’t explain this, and fast, it’s going to turn into an unnecessary argument.

“No, love, I just meant that it was unprofessional for her to be looking at someone who wasn’t hers like that. I mean,” he stumbles over his words when Phil finally meets his gaze. “Not that we’re actually, like… you know,” he mutters quietly, so the other people around them don’t hear. “But she doesn’t know that we’re not, and I personally don’t like homewreckers.” It’s a half-assed explanation, and one that leaves him feeling a little too vulnerable and red in the face, but Phil seems to accept it.

“Oh,” Phil says slowly, seeming to process this information. “So, you were just playing the good fiancé bit.” He grins then, as if this is amusing to him. “That’s actually really cute, Dan.”

Dan flushes even darker, rolling his eyes before shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth. “Don’t,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

Phil coos, and Dan squashes his foot gently under the table. “No, I get it, actually. Like if we’re going to pretend, it’s kind of silly not to pretend to the people who couldn’t possibly know who we are or why we’re pretending.”

It takes Dan a moment to process it, but when he does he nods, then shrugs. “I guess.” Feeling increasingly awkward with the conversation, he moves on. “So, anything interesting happen at work today?” he asks, desperate for a distraction.

He allows Phil to carry the rest of their conversation with dramatic stories about his day at work, interesting in a way that only Phil could manage to make them. Dan props his chin onto his hand, watching Phil speak with a small smile on his face. It felt like it had been ages since they’d spoken like this, just the two of them, about ordinary every day life. It was refreshing.

“Are you even listening to me?” Phil suddenly asks, his lips in a pout as he crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

Startled at having been caught out, Dan nods quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

Phil narrows his eyes. “Why d’you keep staring at me? Have I got something on my face?” He wipes his mouth self-consciously, and Dan can’t help but giggle at that.

“No, you haven’t got something on your face, you spoon.” Phil glares at him, but Dan only smiles. “I’ve missed you.”

Phil looks confused. “We live together, mate, we’re almost never apart,” he says with an awkward sounding laugh.

Dan shrugs. “I know, but it’s different when we’re at home, since there we always have to be on parenting duty.” He realizes how that sounds and is quick to rephrase. “Not that I don’t love the kids, or our life with them! It’s just… I don’t know, it’s nice to just hang out, just the two of us. It’s nostalgic.”

There’s a soft look on Phil’s face, and he doesn’t speak for a long time. When he does, he sounds a little hoarse. “I’ve missed you too, bear.”

Dan ducks his head at the nickname, his face hot. He sips from his drink, allowing himself to pretend, just for a moment, that this is something different. It’s dangerous, that, but he’s just selfish enough that he allows it for just a moment.

Eventually, they finish their lunches and they both have to leave for work. Dan tucks his hands into his pockets as they walk outside, the slight breeze feeling comfortable rather than too chilly.

“I’ll drive you back to work,” he tells Phil, nodding to his car.

“I can call a cab, it’s fine,” Phil shrugs his offer off.

Dan rolls his eyes at this. “Nah, come on, I’m going to take you to work like the great fiancé I am.”

Phil snickers, walking over to the passenger side of the car in defeat. “I want it to go on the record that you said that, not me.”

Dan nods seriously as he climbs into the car and starts the ignition. Leaning closer to the radio, he talks loudly. “Hear that, government? Phil said I was a great fiancé.”

“Dan!” Phil laughs.

Snickering, Dan buckles his seatbelt. “Come on, Phil, the government isn’t going to care that you think I’m a great fiancé,” He says the last part loudly, earning him a playfully shove from Phil. “Babuse!” He screeches through a laugh. “You can’t be mean to the one driving, we could have an accident and be killed to death!”

“Oh yeah, I hate being killed to death,” Phil taunts.

Dan glares at him. “I’ll kill you to death,” he threatens, eyes narrowed playfully.

Phil giggles, and they continue teasing each other until Dan pulls up in front of the BBC office where Phil works. “Thank you for the ride,” Phil says sincerely, grabbing his phone and gripping the door handle. His eyes flicker up, and his face falls as they catch on something. He pauses before opening the door, and Dan’s eyebrows furrow as he looks around curiously.

“What is it?” He asks. “Is something- oh.” He finally realizes what has Phil nervous now, spotting PJ and Chris outside the building, close enough that they’ve noticed Dan and Phil in the car. They smirk and wave, causing Dan to roll his eyes.

“They’re going to give me shit,” Phil mutters quietly.

Dan narrows his eyes at them before leaning closer to Phil curiously. “About what? Being gay? They knew you were gay, so do they just give you shit because they think you’re with me?” He can hear the confusion in his own voice.

Phil shakes his head with a sigh. “No, they’re always talking about- don’t be mad, alright?”

The fact that Phil felt the need to interrupt himself to say that isn’t boding well for his friends, but Dan just nods uncertainly. “Okay.”

Phil sighs, staring down at his hands. “When I told them about it, they didn’t really… well they didn’t really believe me at first? They said they thought that… God, you’re going to hate this.”

“What did they say?” Dan deadpans. If whatever they said about Phil bothers him this much, he’s quite willing to exchange some unfriendly words with them so they don’t say it again.

“They said they were surprised that you’d be interested in… well, me, actually.” He says it so quietly that Dan almost isn’t sure he’s heard him right.

“Wait, what? Did they think I was straight?” Now he’s confused, because very rarely were there people he met who thought he was entirely straight, even before this whole fake relationship thing happened.

“No,” Phil shakes his head. “They just… They kind of implied that you, well…” He laughs then, but it’s a bitter sound and lacks the usual happiness his laughs are usually full of. “They basically said they thought you had better taste than me.”

Dan stares at him in surprise, having not expected that. “What the fuck?” He says eloquently, his gaze darting over to the building, where the two of them are still standing, pretending they aren’t watching. “Who the fuck- they don’t get to decide who I’m into,” he protests. He realizes suddenly that he’s not defending something real, so he doesn’t need to be so defensive. But then he glances over at Phil, and the way he seems so torn up about it just tears at his heart. “Fuck them, okay? Phil? Listen, they’re just talking bullshit. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Phil shrugs, as if it doesn’t bother him as much as it clearly does. “Are they wrong thought? I mean- it’s fine, obviously,” he laughs again, but it’s hollow, even when he looks up and smiles at Dan.

“Excuse me?” Dan’s hands find Phil’s, and he plays with the older man’s fingers for a moment, but Phil is avoiding Dan’s eyes like the plague. “Phil Lester. You are a brilliant, incredible friend, and a beautiful person. Honestly, Phil, you’re out of my league.”

Phil is still looking hollowly in the direction of his coworkers. “You think so?” He asks absently, disbelievingly.

Dan is having an idea. A stupid idea, no doubt, but before he knows it, his body is already enacting the plan. “Don’t be weird about this, please,” he pleads, holding eye contact with Phil as he leans closer.

“About- Dan?” Phil sounds almost alarmed as Dan reaches a hand up to gently cup his jaw.

“Please don’t freak out,” Dan says quietly, almost a whisper as he presses forward.

And obviously, he isn’t about to kiss his platonic best friend for real, so instead he presses his lips just to the corner of Phil’s mouth, just close enough so that PJ and Chris won’t know the difference from how far away they’re standing. Phil seems to catch on to what he’s doing, and quickly brings a hand up to Dan’s jaw, effectively making it seem more realistic. Phil’s lips are parted slightly in surprise, and Dan can feel the warmth of his breath against his face, almost straight into his own mouth, but not quite. He doesn’t linger long, only long enough to become flushed with how intimate this feels, pulling away and dropping his hand after a couple of seconds.

“They saw,” he confirms for himself and for Phil, glancing at them from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t bother gauging their reaction to it, instead focusing his eyes on Phil. “I’m sorry, I should have asked, or explained, but-“

Phil cuts him off then. “It’s fine- I mean. Yeah. It’s fine.” Dan’s not convinced, but Phil’s eyes have a kind of steel to them that he doesn’t want to argue with.

Dan nods, reaching a hand up to brush Phil’s hair back. “Hopefully they’ll fuck off and leave you alone about it now.”

Something flits across Phil’s face then, almost a moment of hurt, but it’s gone in the next blink, so Dan convinces himself that he must have imagined it. “Thank you, Dan.” He sounds oddly stiff. “That was really- er, nice of you to do.” Then he sighs and glances at the clock. “I should go, you need to get back to the school.”

Dan nods silently, and watches as Phil opens the door and climbs out of the car. “I’ll see you at home,” he calls, watching as Phil only nods and waves before walking towards his building.

Mentally cursing himself for the weird position he’s put them in, Dan pulls out of the parking lot, hoping that he didn’t just fuck up all the progress they’d made together.

~~~

When Dan gets back to the school, he’s barely had a chance to sit down in his chair before his phone is ringing obnoxiously. He sighs but pulls it out of his pocket, feeling aggravated, but his exasperation is wiped away when he reads the caller ID and sees Hazel’s name. Without missing a beat, he swipes across the screen to answer the call.

“Hazel, thanks for calling me back,” he greets with no preamble.

“Hi, Dan,” she replies, sounding a little wary.

His stomach sinks, and he already knows it’s going to be bad news. He swallows hard around the lump forming in his throat, lowering his voice as he speaks. “So, what did you find out?” He asks quietly.

She sighs. “You’re really going to hate this, Dan.” It sounds like a warning and an apology all rolled into one. Dan already hates it.

“I just want to know, Hazel. I don’t like this prolonging thing.”

Hazel seems to take a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “He’s their brother, you were right about that.”

For some reason, this doesn’t fill him with the relief he thought it would. “And?”

The line is quiet for a moment. “He’s in a group home.”

Dan really didn’t feel like he could be more shocked and broken hearted for this family, but he was apparently wrong. He can feel his throat closing up as he processes the words. “What?” He almost hopes she’s joking. It wouldn’t be funny, but he just doesn’t want the thing she just said to be true.

“I’m so sorry, Dan. I know that’s a lot to take in, but… Apparently he was a little violent, after the authorities were told about their situation at home.”

“Well obviously,” Dan almost spits venom at her through the phone. “His family was being torn apart.”

Hazel sighs. “Dan, look, they typically put older children into group homes if they don’t think they’re stable enough to be with a foster family. There’s probably a reason-“

“Can we foster him?” Dan interrupts her, not even waiting to process what she was trying to tell him.

She splutters at this. “Sorry, what?”

“Can Phil and I foster him?” He repeats calmly. “We’re already fostering his siblings, and I don’t feel comfortable knowing that they’ve been split apart.”

“Dan,” She says softly, as if she’s delivering bad news to a child.

He’s not a child.

“I know, they usually only put dangerous kids into group homes, or kids with disorders or habits that they think are almost juvenile detention worthy but not quite. I get it. I did my research on all this months ago, Hazel.” He pauses, trying to soften his voice. “I just don’t want to keep them separated if there’s any way we could foster him.”

Hazel is silent for a long time. Dan almost starts to think that he’s lost connection, but then she speaks again. “I’ll look into it. I’ll have to make some calls, and try to pull some strings, but…” She trails off, and Dan’s heart speeds up with hope for her words. “I think if anyone could help heal this family, it’s you and Phil.”

Dan’s heart drops at the mention of his fake other half, who doesn’t even know what he’s doing right now. He has no idea that Dan reached out to Hazel for this, and suddenly Dan can feel his stomach churning anxiously, knowing how offended Phil will probably be when he finds out about this.

Instead of revealing that to Hazel, though, Dan only chokes out some vague form of thanks before allowing her to hang up.

Immediately, he knows he needs to call Phil and tell him what he’d just done. He would likely be mad and would probably have an attitude when he got home later, but Dan prayed that he was wrong, that Phil would understand why he was doing it.

Dan chews on his bottom lip as he goes to his messages, remembering the last time he’d called Phil when he was at work without texting first, and the shitstorm that followed. There likely wouldn’t be a repeat of that today, but Dan wanted to be cautious, since this was more of a sensitive matter.

Dan: you busy?

Phil: Nah. Doing paperwork

Phil: What’s up?

Dan: can i call?

Phil: Sure.

Dan waits patiently for Phil to pick up, chewing away at his lip hard enough to break the skin. He’s surprised he hasn’t already. When Phil answers, he sounds only slightly off, which is better than what he seemed to be when Dan dropped him off at work earlier. But he’s not thinking about that right now, he’s decided, so he quickly averts his thoughts to what he actually called for.

“Dan? Are you ever going to say anything, or did you just call to breathe into the phone like a weirdo?” Phil asks, sounding amused but definitely concerned.

“I did a thing, and you’re going to be cross with me for it,” Dan announces, not beating around the bush at all.

Phil pauses then and seems to reconsider his playful tone. “Okay…” He says slowly, cautiously. “What did you do?” He asks, not sounding angry yet, just… wary.

Dan takes a few deep breaths, bracing himself for what he figures is probably going to turn into a fight. “I called Hazel about Levi.”

The line is completely silent. Dan hates it.

He stays quiet for as long as he dares, but when ten seconds turns into sixty, and a minute turns to two, he can’t help but burst. “Please say something,” he begs.

Phil clears his throat. “Without telling me?” He doesn’t need to remind Dan what they’re talking about.

“I’m sorry, I just- I couldn’t-“

He’s cut off by Phil speaking again. “I know, you just make the important decisions yourself and hope that I don’t care because it’s just like a game of house or something, right? It doesn’t have any real consequence, does it?” He taunts, his voice bitter in a way that Dan is unfamiliar with.

“No,” he protests weakly. “I didn’t make any decisions; I just wanted more infor--“

“So, you knew I didn’t feel comfortable talking to Hazel about it yet, and you still did it.” It’s not even a question.

Dan’s throat feels tight and he feels like his organs are squeezing their way up into his lungs. It’s uncomfortable in the worst ways, but he doesn’t know how to settle it. “I’m sorry, but it was important to me and I-”

Phil sighs. “I know. You’re always sorry.” He sounds exhausted, and his words make Dan’s stomach sink even further. They’re quiet for a moment, as Dan has no real rebuttal for that, but eventually Phil sighs again, ending the awkwardness. “I need to go, I have a conference call at two.”

“Oh… Okay. Yeah. Um, go ahead.” Dan feels the regret deep in his bones, and he knows it’ll likely only be worse once he’s hung up.

“I’d say something funny, but I’m honestly a bit annoyed right now,” Phil tells him, his voice carrying the hurt tone of his voice over the phone in a way Dan really wished it wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Dan mumbles again, his vocabulary seemingly erased of everything else except for that sentiment.

“I know,” Phil sighs. “I-“ he stops himself. “Drive home safely. Don’t forget to wear your seatbelt.” Is what he says finally.

Even in a fight, he makes sure he reminds Dan to stay safe. Somehow, that realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and he lays his head on his desk, trying to breathe.

“I will,” he says tightly. He feels a buildup of emotion in his chest, but he can’t grasp the right words to convey what he’s feeling. “Thank you. I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah. Bye, Dan.”

The line cuts off with a click, and Dan feels the guilt set in, heavy and dark, and he knows that the rest of the day is going to drag in a way it normally doesn’t.

~~~

The rest of the day passes by in a slow haze, and Dan really doesn’t feel that he’s gotten anything done by the time he leaves to pick up the twins from school. He stands outside of the primary school with some of the other parents, his hands tucked into his pockets as he waits for the kids to come outside. The twins look around anxiously as soon as they’re out of the building, and Dan waves to them, forcing a smile he doesn’t feel onto his face. They immediately start running towards him, and the smile turns into something more genuine as they both crash into his legs.

“Hey, kiddos. How was your day?” He asks, petting both of their heads affectionately as he leads them to the car.

“We had so much fun! They let us watch a film about the animal kingdom, and-“ Amelia explains excitedly.

She’s cut off by Jaiden, who tugs on Dan’s hand. “We learned all about the food chain!”

“Wow! You’ll have to tell me all about it on the way home, yeah?” Dan opens the back door on the driver’s side, allowing both of them to climb in.

They chatter the whole way home, telling Dan all about predators and prey and the differences between herbivores and omnivores. He tries to listen and not let his mind wander, but if they notice that he’s a little more distracted than usual, they don’t tell him.

As soon as they’re home, he sends them into the kitchen to sit at the dining table and do their homework, which turns out to be a worksheet about the film they’d watched. Between the two of them, they retained enough information to not really need Dan’s help at all, which he thinks is probably a good thing, as he doesn’t feel like he’d really be able to focus on it anyway. When they’re finished, they’re free to do whatever they want, and they both end up upstairs playing, which is almost a relief for Dan and his swirling thoughts.

He’s right about Phil being in a mood when he gets home. Not that he’d actually expected anything else, but Dan’s stomach sinks uncomfortably when Phil comes in and it’s clear that he’s still cross with him. Dan is standing in the kitchen and looking for something to make for dinner when he hears the door open, and he tries not to turn around as he listens to Phil’s footsteps carrying him into the kitchen. There’s the sound of a bag setting on the table, and Dan can’t help but glance over.

Phil isn’t looking at him, his eyes cast on his laptop bag as he rifles through it, pulling out a folder and setting it on the table. He must feel Dan’s eyes on him, because he looks up then, his blue eyes swimming with something that Dan thinks looks an awful lot like hurt.

“Hey,” he says softly.

Phil shakes his head, grabbing his bag and setting it off to the side as he normally does, holding the folder tightly in one hand. “I can’t talk to you right now.”

“Phil, I-“

“No, Dan.” Phil settles him with a hard stare. “Not right now,” Phil says, almost pleading.

Dan swallows hard around the lump in his throat before nodding. If Phil needed space, that’s what he would give him, even if it killed him on the inside to do it. “Okay,” he whispers.

Phil nods too, then, before going to the office. He doesn’t even give Dan a second look as he goes, which hurts more than Dan wants to admit.

Rather than drive himself crazy dwelling on it, he goes upstairs to ask the twins if they want to help with dinner. Naturally, being children, they do, so he leads them back to the kitchen and explains that they can make fajitas or spaghetti. They both vote for fajitas, surprisingly, and Dan has a moment of thanking whatever greater power there is that the kids they foster aren’t picky.

“Okay, so we’re going to start with the peppers and onions first. I’ll cut them up and let you guys put them in the pan, okay? Carefully. It’s very hot.” Dan stresses the word, already mildly anxious at the sight of his kids so close to the stove.

The children are surprisingly helpful, although several times Dan finds himself cringing with worry when they get a little too close to the sizzling pan or something. He manages to prevent them from maiming themselves, and eventually he’s letting them set out the other condiments and plates on the table. He feels his stomach churn nervously, well aware that now he’ll have to go tell Phil that dinner is ready, and without the task of cooking to distract him, he’ll be left to do nothing but worry about the conversation they’ll likely be having later.

He takes the coward’s way out, asking Mia if she’d go fetch Phil for dinner so he doesn’t have to do it himself. The six-year-old is all too willing to do it, skipping over to the office door, completely carefree. Dan can vaguely hear the sound of her voice as she tells Phil that dinner is ready, and he doesn’t hear anything but the low rumble of Phil’s voice in response.

A few moments later, Amelia returns to the kitchen, sitting beside her brother at the table. They start talking, but Dan’s barely listening to the words they’re saying, more focused on the sound of footsteps approaching. He tries to act busy, stirring the fajita mix in the pan as if he’s not already finished with it.

The footsteps stop right next to him, and Dan nearly flinches when he feels a hand fall on his hip. He barely glances up at Phil and finds a softer expression on his face than what had been there before. Phil reaches over with the hand not on Dan and takes the glass of Ribena Dan had been sipping from and takes a swig.

Dan refuses the urge to roll his eyes and glances back at the food. “Still cross?” He asks quietly, bitterly.

Phil looks over at him, shaking his head. “No,” he says gently. His eyes flit over to the twins momentarily before they settle back on Dan. “Can we talk later?”

Surprised, Dan nods. “Of course.”

Phil smiles before leaning in, surprising Dan even more by pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m sorry I was mean earlier.”

Dan shrugs, staring down at the food rather than responding to that. He didn’t trust his voice not to waver right now, and he knew there was a time and place to discuss their disagreement, but it wasn’t here and now. “Okay,” he replies quietly.

He catches a glimpse of the frown on Phil’s face, and he tries to not take responsibility for it. Phil seems to shake it off, though, squeezing Dan’s hip before letting go and stepping away, moving to grab some plates from the cupboard. “So, who wants to tell me what you learned at school today?” He asks, grinning at the twins as he sets their plates out in front of them.

Amelia and Jaiden immediately start talking over each other, and between the two of them, Phil seems to understand the gist of what they learned about the food chain and such. He smiles broadly at them, nodding along as he moves to refill their drinks. Dan tries not to watch him, but it’s sort of intriguing to see him in parenting mode like this, and so Dan really can’t help it.

After setting the table with the tortillas and everything else they would need, Phil comes back over to stand beside Dan, pointing down to the pan. “That about done?” He asks.

Dan nods mutely, nudging the handle over for Phil to grab, handing him a potholder to set it on to avoid scorching the table. “Careful,” he warns.

Phil nods, carefully setting it on the table. “Alright, you guys get to pick what you want in your fajita and I’ll scoop it into the tortillas, okay? Amelia, what do you want?”

Dan moves over to make a plate for Jaiden while Phil works on Amelia’s, letting him point out what he wants. “You don’t want onions, right?” He asks, already shoving some of them out of the way so he doesn’t get any on Jaiden’s plate. The six-year-old insists that he can eat them, but he never does if they’re on his plate, and Dan refuses to make him eat something he doesn’t want.

Jaiden shakes his head just as Phil says, “They’re good for you, Jai-bird.” Dan shoots him a look, and he quickly reevaluates his words. “But you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to.”

“Do I have to eat onions?” Amelia asks then, moving to sit up on her knees rather than on her bum.

“No, but you do have to sit down correctly,” Dan chastises, raising his eyebrows at her.

She grins sheepishly before moving to sit correctly in her chair. “I forgot,” She explains.

Dan smiles at her knowingly before handing her brother his plate. “I know.” After settling back in his seat, he makes his own plate, watching Phil as he does the same, making a mess with his shaking hands. “Hold the plate over the pan and you won’t spill it all over the table,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

Phil glances at him, opening his mouth to respond before apparently thinking better of it. His mouth snaps closed and forms a straight line, and Dan can tell he’s holding back a comment that would likely start an argument. The plate is slightly shaking in his left hand, and Dan notices the way his grip tightens on the spoon in his right hand, trying to steady it.

Feeling guilty for being rude, Dan reaches over and gently tugs the plate and spoon away from Phil, filling his plate quickly and neatly before handing it back. “Here,” he says softly.

There’s an odd look on Phil’s face, but he takes the plate anyway. “Thank you,” he mumbles, looking almost embarrassed.

Dan only nods, reaching for his Ribena and taking a sip. Glancing over again, he realizes Phil doesn’t have a drink, and almost unthinkingly he stands and moves to the cupboard to grab a glass. “Do you want Ribena or something else?” He asks, opening the door to the refrigerator and hovering as he waits for Phil’s response.

Phil glances over at him, looking a little surprised. “Oh, um, Ribena’s fine.”

Nodding, Dan pours his drink, humming under his breath as he does. “Here,” he says, handing Phil the glass as he moves back to the table.

“Thanks,” Phil replies.

They eat in relative silence, aside from the children chattering and occasionally asking Dan and Phil questions about the things they learned at school. Dan knows that the tension between them is probably what’s keeping the conversation so scarce, as generally the animal kingdom is a subject Phil would be all too engrossed in. It makes him feel guilty, and he eventually loses his appetite, only pushing the food around his plate with his fork quietly.

When the kids are finished they ask if they can go upstairs and watch Netflix. As soon as Phil gives the okay, they rush out of the kitchen, bickering about what to watch the whole way. Phil stands too, gathering their plates up to take them to the sink. He looks over at Dan, and a concerned frown etches itself out on his lips. He drops the dishes into the sink before walking back over to the table and dropping a hand to Dan’s forehead.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly.

Dan nods, pushing his plate away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Phil’s frown deepens, and he drops his hand, looking at Dan’s plate in concern. “You didn’t eat very much,” he comments.

Dan shrugs. “Not hungry,” he mumbles, tracing shapes onto the table with the condensation dripping off his glass.

“Oh… Do you need to go lay down? I can watch the kids, if you want to go to bed early,” Phil suggests, his hand coming up to stroke Dan’s shoulder blades gently.

“Can you quit pretending we aren’t fighting?” Dan suddenly bursts, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

Phil draws his hand back like he’s been burnt, a shocked look on his face. “What?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

Dan rolls his eyes. “I know you’re pissed at me for calling Hazel without telling you. I’d rather you just be angry with me rather than pretending you care that I don’t feel well.”

Phil’s expression shifts from confused to surprised. “Excuse me?” He snaps. “I’m not pretending to care Dan. I’m worried about you because you’re acting like you’re ill, and that’s my first priority, not some stupid fucking argument.” The swear surprises Dan a little, enough that he realizes how serious Phil is.

“Well, I’m fine,” Dan mutters, moving to stand. “I’m just tired of you being mad at me.” His voice is smaller than he had intended, but he can’t swallow the words now.

Phil follows him, running a hand down his arm. “I’m not mad anymore. And I’m sorry.”

Dan tries not to sniff as he runs water over the dishes, refusing to meet Phil’s gaze. “For what?” He asks petulantly.

There’s a sigh, and then he feels Phil’s arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He tries not to shiver when he feels his breath against his neck. “For being a dick. And for ignoring you instead of having a real conversation about it like an adult.”

The water is hitting the dishes, not really accomplishing anything, and Dan slowly twists the knob to turn it off, staring at the stream as it disappears. “It really hurts me when you do that, you know,” Dan whispers. “I know you… I think you don’t mean to, but I hate when you ignore me like that. It…” He trails off again, swallowing hard.

Phil squeezes him tightly, and Dan feels his lips pressing against the side of his head, the pressure feeling grounding. “I know. I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I don’t want to hurt you, ever. And I shouldn’t have said what I did, about you doing things without telling me and not caring. I know you care, you care so much about those kids, you just want what’s best for them, and I know that.”

Dan turns the water back on, hot, and places his hand under the stream, allowing it to run over his fingers, hot enough to burn a little. “I want what’s best for you too,” he mumbles, the words easier to say when he isn’t looking at Phil.

His hand is pulled away from the stream of water by Phil’s gentle grip, the same hand pulling away to turn the tap off. “I know,” he whispers. Before Dan can think to protest, Phil steps away and tugs Dan’s arm to turn him around. Dan immediately drops his gaze, but Phil only steps closer, tugging him into a proper embrace. Dan’s arms move to wrap around Phil’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder as he feels his eyes begin leaking the emotion he feels eating away at him.

“Do you really think I try to control everything without asking you?” Dan asks, unable to help himself.

Phil squeezes him tighter, and Dan can feel him shaking his head. “No, not at all,” He says firmly. “I think you just take charge and make the hard decisions that I’m scared to make, and sometimes that overwhelms me because I’m afraid of what’s going to happen,” Phil whispers, almost too quiet for Dan to even process his words.

Dan pulls away enough to study Phil’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers back. “I don’t do that with the intentions of hurting you.”

Phil gently pets Dan’s curls, studying him with a soft look. “I know,” he replies with a nod. “And you couldn’t know how much it affected me, because I’d never told you.”

Settling his head back on Phil’s shoulder, Dan tries to ignore the racing of his heart as he formulates a response. “I think we need to talk more. Like we could have avoided this if we were better at communication, but apparently we suck at it.”

“Hey,” Phil says lightly, gently tugging Dan’s hair to pull him back enough to look at his face. “We don’t suck at it. It’s just different when we’re not the only people in the equation. We have two, maybe three, other people to think about now, and that changes things. We’re doing the best we can, yeah?”

Dan nods, his heart swelling at the reassurance that they don’t suck at the parenting thing, that they’re trying their best. And… maybe three. “Yeah,” he replies quietly.

Phil smiles and presses a kiss to Dan’s cheek then, causing the younger man to blush when he pulls away. “We can talk more about the Levi situation later, alright? I think for now we need to go upstairs and watch an animated movie we’ve seen a hundred times and have a cuddle.”

“That sounds amazing, actually,” Dan says, laughing wetly. He hadn’t realized that the tears were still steadily falling, but Phil’s hand comes up to wipe them away gently.

“C’mon, bear. We can use your fuzzy blanket and turn the lights out and everything.”

“Hot chocolate?” Dan asks, his voice small.

Phil smiles at him warmly. “Yes, I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Why don’t you go upstairs and ask the kids if they’d like any as well?”

Dan nods and pulls away, feeling colder when he’s no longer wrapped up in the warmth of Phil’s hug. He shoves that feeling away, giving Phil one last look before making his way upstairs to where the twins are still arguing about the movie. Of course, they want hot chocolate as well, and he tells them to decide on a movie while he goes to help Phil carry the drinks upstairs.

When he gets downstairs, Phil is moving around the kitchen, four mugs already placed on the counter. He glances up at Dan when he walks in, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“They want some, too,” Dan tells him with a nod. “With marshmallows,” he adds, moving to the cupboard to get the bag of mini marshmallows that they kept in there. He watches Phil as he pours the chocolate powder into the mugs, carefully spooning it out so none of it spills over the sides. His hands are steadier than before, and Dan wonders if it’s because most of the anxiety about their argument has been relieved. He hopes it has.

The kettle beeps, and Phil jumps a little in surprise, glancing over at Dan with a sheepish smile before moving to pour the water into the mugs. “Did you want some snacks? Since you didn’t eat very much at dinner?” Phil asks, carefully tipping the kettle over the mugs, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

Dan shakes his head before realizing Phil can’t see him. “I don’t want any snacks. Phil?” He calls quietly. Phil glances up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Are we okay?” He asks, his stomach swirling with nerves.

The older man smiles at him, a soft look on his face. “We’re okay,” he reassures Dan.

Nodding, Dan opens the bag of marshmallows and begins dropping them into the mugs, adding six to one of the mugs and three to the rest. When Phil places the kettle back, he moves to carry two of the mugs, a curious look on his face when he sees all the marshmallows floating in the one in Dan’s left hand. At his expression, Dan shrugs and turns to walk upstairs. “That one’s yours,” he says in lieu of an explanation.

He hears a soft laugh behind him as they make their way upstairs. “Do you want to make a whole thing out of this? Go put on some comfy pajamas and have a proper movie night with the kids?” He asks quietly as they get to the lounge.

Dan feels like that’s exactly what they all need tonight. “Absolutely. Hey, guys, why don’t you go ahead and go put your pjs on, and we’ll have a movie night?”

The twins chorus their agreement before rushing down the stairs, Phil’s call to be careful echoing after them. “They’re such good kids,” he says, almost to himself, as he places the mugs he’s carrying onto the coffee table beside the others.

Dan nods his agreement before moving to follow the kids downstairs, Phil following behind him. “They really are,” he agrees, even as he hears them bickering when he walks into his bedroom. He rifles through the dresser to find a t-shirt and some sweatpants, finding his Game of Thrones sweats and an old shirt of Phil’s. He tugs his shirt off and replaces it, glancing over to find Phil doing the same, having dug an old T-shirt out of the closet.

Something catches Dan’s eye and he points to it before Phil can drag the closet door shut. “Can I wear that?” He asks, gesturing to the offending bright green fabric.

Phil frowns, almost to himself, as he stares into the closet, probably trying to figure out what it is Dan wants. When it dawns on him, he looks surprised. “My York hoodie?”

“Yeah,” Dan nods, chewing on his lip as he waits for Phil’s response.

His eyebrows are furrowed as he reaches for the fabric, pulling it off the hanger carefully. “You haven’t wanted to wear this in years,” he observes, handing it over to Dan with what the younger man recognizes as a concerned expression.

Shrugging, Dan pulls the fabric over his head and tugs it down, the smell of Phil nearly overwhelming him. “It’s just comfy,” he says defensively.

Phil quirks an eyebrow at him. “Comfier than your Manchester hoodie, or the Yeezy sweater?”

Dan crinkles his nose. “I don’t know where my Manchester hoodie is, and you hate my Yeezy one.”

There’s a smirk on Phil’s lips as he begins tugging his jeans off, and Dan quickly turns around to do the same. “That’s because it’s ugly,” Phil teases.

Tugging his sweatpants up his legs, Dan turns to give him a look. “It cost more than one of your paychecks,” he deadpans.

Phil quirks an eyebrow at him as he pulls his pajama bottoms on, a smirk on his lips. “I know. I bought it, remember?”

Dan flushes. He did, in fact, remember that. He’d looked at the sweater for several weeks and whined about how expensive it was more than once. Then one day last fall, Phil showed up at Dan’s with a bag, and in it was the sweater. Dan had been so happy, and even now he finds himself smiling softly at the memory.

“Yeah, well…” Dan trails off awkwardly, not sure what to say as he makes his way up the stairs. “Shut up about it, if you thought it was so ugly you shouldn’t have bought it for me.”

The older man shrugs. “You liked it,” he replies, as if that explains it away completely. Dan feels a warmth flood into his chest at the comment, and he’s just about to say something sweet in response when Phil continues. “It still makes you look like a sack of potatoes, though,” he teases, following Dan over to the sofa.

In response to Phil’s comment, Dan huffs as he settles on the sofa, grabbing his fluffy blanket and holding it out for Phil to settle under. “I better get the best damn cuddles in the world since you’re making fun of me,” he demands.

Phil giggles at this, handing Dan his hot chocolate and grabbing his own before settling onto the sofa. He shifts so that his left arm is thrown across the back of the sofa, allowing Dan to snuggle against his side. “I’m sorry, I’ll be nice, I swear.” He’s smiling as he says it, but Dan can tell how pleased he is with himself.

“You’d better,” Dan mumbles, leaning into Phil’s side and making himself comfy. His head is resting on Phil’s shoulder and he has the impulsive desire to press his lips to some part of him. Since they’re having a whole cuddly night anyway, he does just that, subtly pressing his lips to the fabric covering Phil’s shoulder.

Phil tilts his head to look at Dan, and they maintain eye contact for several seconds, but Dan breaks it, looking away when he feels his stomach twisting under Phil’s steady gaze. There’s a soft laugh, and then he feels Phil press a kiss to the curls on his head. “I forgot how cute you look in my hoodie,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?” Dan murmurs back, feeling his heart swell with warmth.

“Yeah,” Phil replies. Whatever he might’ve said next is cut off by the sound of feet thundering up the stairs. Dan nudges Phil to reprimand them, having retired from being the strict parent for the evening. “Guys, we don’t run up the stairs, remember? You could fall and get hurt!”

There’s a pause in the stampede, and when it resumes it’s at a much calmer pace. Dan smiles at the twins as they come into view. “Did you two finally decide on a movie?” He asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“We wanna watch Zootopia!” Amelia announces, coming over to sit next to Dan on the couch.

He glances over at Jaiden, who’s frowning. “That okay with you too, bub?”

Jaiden nods and then points to where Amelia is sitting. “I wanted to sit beside you.”

Dan tries not to smile, but he can’t help it. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap,” he instructs, moving the blanket to allow Jaiden to crawl under and get comfy.

“I want under the covers!” Amelia protests with a pout.

Phil laughs. “Come over here, Mia, you can sit with me.”

Amelia’s face lights up and she quickly hops off the sofa and moves over to Phil, waiting for him to lift the blanket before she crawls onto his lap, settling herself there. Dan figures it’s going to be a pain handing them their hot chocolate when they want to drink it but seeing the happiness on their little faces makes it worth it already. He smiles to himself as he leans forward and grabs the remote, starting the movie.

When he leans back, he makes sure the blanket is tucked around Jaiden enough, struggling to keep it up on his own shoulder. “Here,” Phil whispers, grabbing the corner and tucking it behind Dan’s shoulder neatly. He leaves his arm across the back of the sofa, where his hand can stay pressed against Dan’s shoulder comfortingly. Dan not so subtly shifts so that he’s leaning against Phil’s side, dropping his head back onto his shoulder like before.

The new position results in Phil moving his hand to instead settle in Dan’s hair, petting gently through the curls as the movie begins. Dan feels a warmth in his chest, his eyes moving between the twins as he thinks about how grateful he feels for this life. This life where they could help these children feel safe and loved, in the home they shared. He feels a bit emotional about it all of a sudden, and he swallows hard and tries to focus on the movie so that he doesn’t do something silly like cry.

The twins chatter about the movie quietly, and Dan stays quiet, allowing Phil to remind them to be quiet and watch when they get too rowdy. Eventually they shift and move around to get their drinks and at some point, Jaiden decides he no longer wants to be held and moves to sit beside Dan instead, claiming he isn’t cold. Dan still drapes part of the blanket over his lap, just to be on the safe side.

Amelia falls asleep halfway into the movie, and Phil gently stands, cradling her in his arms to tote her downstairs to bed. “I’ll be right back up, love,” he says to Dan as he makes his way downstairs.

Dan nods silently, watching as Phil carefully carries their foster daughter. He really is such a great dad, and the thought pierces Dan’s heart in a way he really wishes it wouldn’t. He’s almost too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear Jaiden speaking.

“Are we going to finish this without Mia?” He asks.

“We can if you want to. It’s only a little after eight, you can stay up to finish it if you want.” Dan says with a shrug.

Jaiden chews on his lip but nods and moves to finish off his hot chocolate. “Okay. We can finish it.”

Dan smiles at him. “Alright, bub.”

Phil finally comes back upstairs then, running a hand through his hair. Dan holds the blanket up as he sits down, throwing it back over his lap once he’s settled on the sofa. His arm immediately comes up to wrap around Dan, no hesitation at all in the movement.

“We finishing the movie?” He asks.

Jaiden nods. “Just don’t tell Mia.”

Phil laughs but shrugs. “My lips are sealed.” He mimics zipping his lips and throwing away the key, causing Jaiden to giggle at the silly gesture.

Dan rolls his eyes and snuggles up to him, tucking his hands in the pocket of his York hoodie. A thought occurs to him when he sees Phil run a hand through his hair and he tilts his head back and studies it, reaching a hand out to touch the black strands gently. Phil glances at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Your hair is getting long,” he observes.

Phil smiles. “Yours too,” he nods, lifting a hand to tug through Dan’s curls as if to prove his point.

“We need to go get it cut again soon. Jai too,” he adds, glancing over at the boy, who isn’t paying them any attention.

“Yeah. Probably need to dye mine again once I’ve cut it.” Phil replies, his hand falling from Dan’s hair to rest on the back of his neck.

Dan crinkles his nose at this suggestion. “I think you shouldn’t.”

Phil stares at him in surprise. “Cut it or dye it?”

“Dye it. Definitely needs a trim, but I don’t want you to color it.” He knows realistically that he has no jurisdiction over this, especially given the fact that their current relationship is a fake one, but he has grown rather attached to the idea of a Phil who has more of a natural hair color, peppered in with some grey hairs that prove how much life he’s lived.

Phil frowns as if he’s considering it. “I dunno. Look a bit old, wouldn’t I?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “No, you’d look fine.” He suddenly feels a little awkward for suggesting it at all. “Do what you want, I just thought you might want to do something different.” His gaze is on the TV now, as he’s unwilling to meet Phil’s eyes.

There’s a hum, and Phil gently begins stroking his thumb along the skin of Dan’s neck. “We’ll see,” he says vaguely.

Not that he’ll actually do it, but the idea that he might consider it is enough to have Dan smiling a little. He hides it easily enough by nuzzling against Phil’s shoulder, taking all the warmth he feels in his chest and letting it spread through his body and calm his nerves from everything that’s happened this evening. There’d be a time for a serious discussion about the Levi situation later when they were alone, but for now he only wanted to cuddle with Phil and watch Jaiden watch this movie.

#phan #phanfiction #foster parent au #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #school counselor!dan #parent!au #parent!phan #friends to lovers #best friends #bed sharing #fake relationship #fluff #light angst #comfort #arguing

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detectivesebcas · 5 years ago

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Promptober Day 32- Sunbathing

(Yes I know it’s not October anymore, but for numbering/tagging purposes, we’re sticking with Promptober.)

Requested by: lemon-kitten

Warnings: descriptions of nudity, adult situations

Universe: AU

Sebastian wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s one of his rare days off- and one where he isn’t exhausted from working a night shift- and he’s been using it to catch up on some work around the house. He has mowed the lawn and cleaned the gutters, and now he figures he should probably do something about the rose bushes in front of the house.

Those rose bushes were Myra’s pride and joy, and Sebastian has literally no idea how to take care of them. Since Myra left a year ago they’ve been growing out of control, and Sebastian decides that it’s probably time to take some kind of action before they actually take over the front yard. He may not know where to start, but he can’t help but notice that his next door neighbor’s flower bed is perfectly maintained.

Stefano has been living next door for just a few months, and Sebastian knows very little about him, except that his name is Stefano, he’s Italian, and he’s some kind of artist. He’s also pretty sure that Stefano is taking advantage of today’s nice weather as well, because he saw him come out the back door when he was in the middle of cutting the grass. Surely Stefano won’t mind answering a few gardening questions.

Sebastian approaches the six foot privacy fence that separates their yards and steps up onto the bottom crossbeam so he can pop his head over the fence. “Hey Stefano,” he calls. “Have you got any tips on-”

The words die on his lips, because Stefano is indeed outside, reclining on a lawn chair and completely nude. Sebastian has, on occasion, had the thought that he would not mind seeing more of his attractive European neighbor, but this was not what he meant- at least not consciously.

Stefano is staring up at him, squinting in the bright sunlight and using his hand to shield the one eye that is not obscured by his hair. “Tips on what?” he asks, seemingly unfazed.

“Ummmm…” Sebastian stammers, all thoughts of the rose bushes gone from his head in an instant. Even in its relaxed state, Stefano’s body is impressive. Sebastian doesn’t know how he stays fit as an artist, but he is lightly muscled, lean in all the right places, and he has a perfect tan… maybe because he spends so much time lying out in his yard naked.

Sebastian swallows hard, wondering how long this has been going on when he wasn’t here to see it. His eyes make their way slowly from Stefano’s mouth down his neck to the hollow of his throat, to his collarbone where beads of sweat are clinging to his skin, then farther down his chest, which is dusted with hair, to the muscles of his abdomen and then down to-

“Sebastian,” Stefano prompts, and Sebastian’s eyes jerk back up to his face. “You were asking for tips on something.”

Sebastian’s mouth is suddenly very dry, and his voice comes out hoarse. “I...you…” He is suddenly aware that he is blushing furiously.

Stefano sighs deeply in a way that makes his chest heave so enticingly Sebastian can’t tear his eyes away. “Is something wrong?”

Sebastian wets his lips, then does his best to answer. “You’re...uh...you know...naked.” He gestures at Stefano’s body, trying hard to keep his eyes away from the parts of Stefano he really wants to inspect.

Stefano raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he says, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I mean, anyone could come along and see you,” Sebastian points out, feeling a pang of jealousy that Stefano is putting himself on display for the entire neighborhood.

“Yes,” Stefano agrees, “anyone who comes along and climbs up on the fence could see me. Would you believe this is the first time that’s happened?”

“Point taken,” Sebastian says, because Stefano is still being sarcastic of course. “But still, if you’re going to lie around in the yard like this, someone’s going to see you.”

Stefano shrugs. “And so what if they do? You seem to be the only one who is bothered by it.”

“I’m not bothered,” Sebastian answers reflexively. “I’m…” What is he? Flustered? Embarrassed? Aroused beyond belief at seeing so much of Stefano on display? “I’m just looking out for you,” he finishes.

“That’s very kind,” Stefano says, “but I’m quite capable of looking out for myself. Was there something you wanted?”

It is at that moment that Sebastian loses the battle with his baser instincts, and his eyes continue right down Stefano’s body. He catches himself, but not before he has a chance to find out that Stefano keeps himself as well-groomed as his flowerbed. There is definitely something he wants, but he’s not about to tell Stefano what it is.

“Uh...yeah,” he says, realizing Stefano is still waiting for an answer. “Do you...ummm... do you want a beer or something?”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Stefano says, raising his visible eyebrow. “But perhaps a less alcoholic refreshment would be in order.”

“Right,” Sebastian says. “I’ve got some lemonade in the house.” He holds up a hand. “Just don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

He swears he can see Stefano stifling a laugh behind his hand as he steps down from the fence and hurries back to the house to get two glasses of lemonade.

When he returns, Stefano has dutifully stayed in place, lounging in his chair and seemingly quite at ease with his nudity. This time Sebastian comes through the gate so that he can hand the glass to Stefano.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Stefano suggests, gesturing at the lawn chair opposite him. “That is, if you’re willing to comply with the dress code.” He winks.

Sebastian takes a deep breath. “Uh...okay,” he says with a nervous laugh. “When in Rome…”

“My dear Sebastian, I don’t think you’re ready to take on Rome yet,” Stefano replies with a smile. “But you are always welcome here.”

#the evil within 2 #steseb promptober 2019 #steseb #Sebastian Castellanos #Stefano Valentini #fanfiction

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

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See You Again {Ben Hargreeves x Reader}

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Klaus’s powers are getting stronger, which works in your favour.

Genre: uhhhh, angst?

Warning: drug use

Notes: masterlist

Maybe you just wanted a tragic backstory.

None of it was planned, of course. You didn’t wake up one morning and relish in the fact that your best friend was dead. The tears you shed were real. The pain you felt was real. The desire to block out the world and everything in it was real.

Because Ben was dead, and there was nothing else left.

It was dramatic, but you were young. He was your best friend, your world. He was the one person in the world who you believed knew you inside out and vise versa - the fact that he was gone now was something you couldn’t bring yourself to admit. You needed to block it out. You needed to find a release.

For years, the release came in the form of self hatred. Yelling at your parents, refusing to go to school, refusing to leave your room unless absolutely necessary. You sometimes sit back and thing maybe you did all that because you were growing impatient; impatient to start the real numbing. Impatient to get your hands on the stuff that would make you forget about Ben for good.

You started the drugs when you were seventeen. They didn’t work, but your body enjoyed them. Your mind wanted to forget, and your body wanted a reaction, and so drugs were always the thing you came back to. Day in, day out, you would sit alone in your apartment, ignoring phone calls and life in general, and you just. . . melted away. You wanted to just melt away.

The first time you got checked into rehab, it was entirely against your will. You didn’t think you needed help. You were doing nothing wrong, hurting nobody but yourself. Sitting alone in your apartment and getting high was a victimless crime, so why did anybody else actually give a shit? They saw the state you were in after Ben died - why did they want to take away the one thing that made you feel better?

You remember kicking and screaming. You remember throwing your head back and crying to the ceiling as hands grabbed your arms and you were pulled left, right and centre. You were too far gone at that point, and it truly felt as if your head was going to tumble off your shoulders if they carried on. You begged them for mercy, and they told you they didn’t want to hurt you, but the pain was already there because you knew what they were going to do and the knowledge of that on its own was enough to hurt.

You spent three weeks there until you finally managed to bust out.

Gaining their trust, getting day-leave and then leaving for good. Your name had been all over the news for weeks, but at the end of the day, you were nothing more than a common drug addict. People gave up after a while. Some people said you weren’t worth the money to put out a search team, and eventually the police must have agreed.

You spent a few weeks on the run until you came across Klaus.

You knew Klaus. Of course you did. His brother had been the one person in the world you trusted; you’d heard all about him. His crazy antics, the fact that he can talk to the dead, the fact that his father locked him in a cell on countless occasions just to get a reaction out of him.

He looks like it now.

You tilt your head to the side when you see him sitting on the street corner with his knees tucked into his chest. His brown hair is a mess, curling into his eyes, in dire need of a haircut. He isn’t bothered by the person staring at him; he just continues trying to flick his lighter on, grumbling under his breath in the way all Hargreeves kids do; you’ve seen all of them get lost in their own head. It’s difficult not to when your father is treating you like a test subject more than a child.

You should feel nervous when you approach him, but you don’t. You haven’t seen him since Ben’s funeral, that god-awful moment where you could no longer hold yourself up and ended up falling to your knees in front of the casket. It had been Reginald himself who’d picked you up and hauled you away; to the untrained eye, he must have looked like nothing more than a concerned adult, but he’d whispered things in your ear that you still remember to this day. Curses. Warnings. Telling you to stay out of the way.

Klaus had watched you get trailed out of the cathedral. He’s here now.

“I feel like I should have brought a gift,” is the first thing you say, because you can’t think of anything more suitable.

Klaus looks up. His left eye twitches. He brushes some hair out of his face before gaping at you. You notice that tiny moment of hesitation as he tries to figure out who you are, but the pieces snap together eventually. His eyes widen and then he’s jumping to his feet, swinging his hands above his head as if he’s about to hug you. You step out of the way and he stops.

“Y/N L/N,” he says. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“How are you doing, Klaus?”

“Me? I’m - I’m better than ever.”

He’s drunk. It doesn’t take a professional to see it. Nonetheless, you force a pleasant smile on your face.

“How about you, though?” he asks, voice soft. He reaches forward and takes your hand in his both of his, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. “I haven’t seen you in years. Remember when we all used to hang out all the time?” He shakes his head. “What happened?”

“Ben died.” You nearly choke on the words. Even Klaus stiffens, his drunken state not being enough to soften the blow of reality. “I’ve seen Allison is doing really well for herself,” you continue. “Being an actress and everything. I always knew she was gonna go on to do big things.”

Klaus scoffs, releasing your hands in favour of trailing his nimble, scarred fingers through his hair. “She’ll still insist she did it all herself.”

You raise a brow. “She didn’t?”

“Of course not. She heard a rumour.” He rolls his eyes. Your hazy mind struggles to catch on to what he means, but the memories piece together slowly; Allison could make people do what she wanted. You remember it, the way she’d always somehow manage to persuade you to make her a sandwich, or wash her sheets, or clean her clothes - Ben always told her to back off when she did it, but you remember the feeling of needing to please her when she said it.

“Oh,” you manage, before looking up. “What about you? What have you been up to?” It’s such a casual conversation piece. You want to give yourself a pat on the back for being so calm and collected right now.

Klaus’s light eyes flash. “I’ve been doing drugs, in and out of rehab, trying to block out the voices in my head - the usual.”

You falter. “You’re still on drugs?”

“Aren’t we all?” He laughs weakly, spinning on his heel in that dramatic way that has always been so Klaus, before he reaches behind a crate and grabs a bong. Your eyes widen, stomach lurching at the sight of it. Yoru fingers itch. Sweat begins to coat your palms, and you force yourself to look away before you shut down completely.

He takes a puff from it and sighs in content. “There we go. Everyone’s settled.”

“The voices still follow you around?” you ask.

Klaus shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but the sweat coating his collarbones and the psychotic glint in his eyes tells you a different story. “Not as much as they used to. The drugs keep them away. Only for so long, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Why don’t you just learn to control them?”

Klaus closes his eyes. “I am learning to control them.” He waves the bong. “I learned how to make one of these things out of a Pringles can. I learned how to roll a blunt. That’s my way of learning control.”

You stare at him. You’ve always known Klaus to be a rare specimen, always lost in his own head, always with his own bizarre outlook on life, but this is a completely different end to the spectrum. He looks crazed. Although he tries to hide it, he looks unhappy.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words never get a chance to leave your mouth before Klaus is talking again.

Only this time, he isn’t talking to you.

“Would you shut up? They’ve literally only just walked up to me. I’m not going to freak them out by telling them you’ve popped in to say hello.”

You flinch back. “What?”

Klaus ignores you. Can he even hear you?

“Oh, boohoo. Let me play you a song on the world's tiniest violin. Get a grip. They’re not gonna want to be my friend if I pass your message along.”

Your trembling by now. You reach out and grab his arm, startling him out of whatever stupor he was sucked into. “Klaus, who are you talking to?”

His eyes meet your own. They soften for only a split second before he sucks his lip between his teeth and starts chewing, a nervous habit you’ve seen him partake in for years. “Nobody.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not-”

“Just tell me who you’re talking to. I thought you blocked out all the voices with the drugs.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “God, I wish I could block all of them out with just a single puff. But no - Benjamin’s a stubborn one. I’ll have to overdose before he leaves me the hell alone.” His head snaps up. “Yes, I’m talking to you!”

You block out the rest of his rant. Slowly, your fingers uncurl from his arm. Your knees feel weak again. Your body is on the verge of giving out, and not even the drugs pumping through your veins are enough to keep you from losing your mind right now.

You stare at Klaus, the way his arms move, the way he talks so animatedly and you know then and there you believe every word he is saying; he’s talking to Ben. There’s no one else he argues with quite like that. You’ve seen it before, and this is what you remember.

It makes your throat close over. The realisation is too much. For years, you’ve struggled to come to terms with his death, the happenings behind it, why no one would give you answers you deserve. But he’s here; he’s with Klaus, and he’s here.

“What did he want to say to me?” you ask. Your voice is quiet, and Klaus can’t hear you over the sound of his own ranting. “Klaus!”

He looks up, whirls around to look at you. “What? What is it?”

“What did he say?” you demand.

“Who?”

You’re going to strangle him. “Ben!”

Klaus’s eyes spark. “Oh, him! He’s just being an emotional little bugger again - nothing new. Telling me that he thought you were dead and all this. Dramatic.”

Your lower lip trembles. “He thought I was dead?”

“Well, we all did,” Klaus replies. “You disappeared off the face of the Earth after escaping rehab. Diego went out looking for you for weeks but couldn’t find a trace of you anywhere.”

You close your eyes, wanting to hear Ben’s voice. It’s one thing having Klaus translate for you ,but you need something more - you need to hear him, to see him. You need to tell him face-to-face that you’re fine, even though he can clearly see that you’re okay right now.

You curl your fingers until your nails are biting into the palm of your hand. “Tell him I miss him.”

It’s such a simple request, but Klaus hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

He bites his bottom lip and repeats your words back; he doesn’t start speaking again until it is Ben’s words he is translating.

“He says he misses you too. He says he’s sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“For all of it,” Klaus clarifies. “He thinks it’s his fault you went off the rails.”

The phrase should hurt your feelings. Off the rails, like you’ve lost your mind, like there’s no coming back from it. It should hurt, but it doesn’t, because you know it’s the truth. You lost yourself after Ben died, and you didn’t make the effort to put things right.

You duck your head down and nod. “Is he okay?”

Klaus is silent for a moment before he says, “I think so.”

----

That night, you stay with Klaus.

It’s not the wisest decision, and you know that even as you sit slumped beside him, back pressed against a rubbish bin, the pungent smell of weed heavy in the air between you. Sirens echo overhead, a sure sign that the crazy kids are out and about, getting drunk and falling off curbs. You and Klaus are hidden away in a dark alley, passing a blunt between each other with little to nothing else buffering the silence.

You want to ask about Ben. It’s an eerie feeling, because you know he’s there. Every now and then Klaus will flinch and shake his head, as if swatting a bug away, and you just know it’s him - but you’re too scared to ask what he wants, and you don’t want Klaus to feel used. You genuinely like Klaus, enjoy his company, and you don’t want to make him feel like a third wheel.

You, him and the dead guy.

Your muscles relax as the night goes on. You laugh at every little thing, giggling when a rat scurries over Klaus’s foot, giggling when a plastic bag gets caught on the open door of a nightclub. The effects of the drugs are settling in, loosening you up for a night of heavy conversation.

“You know,” you begin, tilting your head back to look up at the stars. “Ben would kill me right now if he knew I was doing this with you.”

Klaus scoffs. “He does know you’re doing this with me. He’s right here.”

You wince. “How is he taking it?”

Klaus pauses, no doubt waiting for Ben to add his two cents into the conversation. “He’s gone quiet, so I can only assume he’s a little bit pissed off.”

It hurts to hear, but you laugh anyway. Klaus giggles along with you, passing you the blunt for the final drag; you take it, savouring the burn in your lungs and the instant haze that settles in your brain. Klaus grits his teeth, shaking his head.

“It takes a good user to be able to inhale like that.”

You shrug, squishing the end of the blunt into the concrete. “I’ve been using for a long time.”

“Sad. You had a lot of potential.”

Was that an insult? You’ll ponder over it tomorrow.

“Ben told me you wanted to be a neurosurgeon,” Klaus continues.

You wince. “That’s embarrassing.”

“He says it’s one of the reasons he loved you so much.”

“Love is a very strong word,” you point out, even as your heart thunders in your chest. “I don’t know if you can call what Ben and I had ‘love.’”

Klaus frowns, looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Ben always calls it that.”

You’re not sure how to answer, so you don’t. You pick at the rocks at your feet and hope Ben isn’t looking at you right now, even though he is, and you know he is. He’s right beside you. For the first time in years, he’s there and you’re sat with his brother getting high.

Even with the drugs in your system, the thought makes you shudder. You remember your childhood, sitting with Ben in his living room, organising a life for the two of you that would surpass what you were left with - you would become a neurosurgeon, and he would become a chef. A head chef. You remember talking to him about Klaus’s drug use, when the two of you would watch Klaus light up a blunt at the dinner table; you would look over at him and the two of you would shake your heads in a silent understanding - that will never be us.

But then Ben died, and it didn’t seem to matter. None of the plans you made mattered, because Ben wouldn’t be there to help you get there.

Klaus hums. You toss a rock a few feet in front of you, watch it skip along the ground before landing in a puddle of oil.

Finally, Klaus speaks up. “You know, if there’s anything you ever want to say to him, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“Thanks, Klaus. I don’t really know what I can say.”

“Anything.” Klaus looks to his left, raises a brow. You know he’s communicating with Ben, and it makes your heart constrict. He finally looks back at you. “I think he’s a bit desperate to talk to you, to be honest.”

You smile, looking off to the left. If you concentrate hard enough, you can almost imagine you’re making eye contact with him. “I’ll think of something.”

---

Reginald Hargreeves dies a few days later.

Klaus takes you along to pay your respects, even though you say no in the beginning. The two of you have been wandering the streets together and Klaus says he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own - so he takes you to the Hargreeves household, where memories ooze from the walls and the dead Umbrella Academy flourishes back to life.

They’re all there. Allison, Luther, Diego - even Vanya. Number Five makes his unexpected appearance, but you’re sitting on the toilet seat with a blunt when that happens, so you don’t see him until later.

The only one of them who isn’t there is Ben, and the reminder is breaking you apart.

Allison is awkward when she asks if you’d like to stay in Ben’s old room. You smile, tell her you won’t be able to stay before Klaus abruptly cuts in and says you’ll be happy to stay in Ben’s room - memories! That night, you barely sleep, because you’re certain you can still smell him on the covers, even though they’ve been washed and it’s been years. The drawings of horses you and him carved into the leg of his desk are still there. You cover them up with a blanket before laying down to sleep.

You wake up the next morning to Klaus barging in through the door.

You sit upright, rubbing your eyes, mumbling the words “Shut up,” before you can even comprehend your mouth is moving. Klaus is yelling, dives onto the end of your bed and grabs your wrists. He yanks you out of the covers and starts towards his room without giving you any time to wake up.

“Klaus,” you grumble, stumbling after him. “Klaus, slow the fuck-”

“In here.” He pulls you into his room and slams the door closed. His eyes are frantic, immediately quietening you because you’ve never seen him look so hysterical. You’ve seen Klaus Hargreeves on the hardest party drugs, but none of them have made him look like this.

You raise a brow, the fear creeping into your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you - I need you to-” He tilts his head. “Is that door closed?”

“Yes.”

“Jiggle the handle. Make sure it’s properly closed.”

You don’t. “It’s definitely closed, Klaus.”

He waves a dismissive hand through the air and turns on his heel. He approaches the far wall, his eyes locked on a single spot in front of him. You watch as he picks up a bowling ball (why has he got a bowling ball?) and launches it into thin air.

“Klaus!” you gasp, slamming your hands over your ears in preparation for the shatter that will surely come with a bowling ball falling onto a hard wood floor - but it never comes.

It hovers for only a few seconds before the air around it ripples, and suddenly there’s somebody holding onto it. Somebody you don’t recognise, but somebody who is so familiar that it makes you want to cry.

He looks so different. His hair is still black, his chin still pointed, the apples of his cheeks still rosy and high on his face. He’s wearing a long black coat that you would have made fun of him for earlier, but the sight of him stuns you into silence.

He’s looking around like he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know you can see him.

Klaus slowly steps back, nodding to himself. “Good. This is good. So, so good.”

“Ben,” you choke out.

His dark eyes snap up, immediately finding your own. His fingers go white around the curve of the bowling ball. “Y/N?”

“How is this happening?” you ask.

“Magic, baby!” Klaus yells before Ben has a chance to reply. The two of you are staring at each other, not daring to break the eye contact even when Klaus starts dancing between you. “My powers are getting stronger and stronger by the fucking day, and this is the start of it! Look at this!”

You shake your head. “This isn’t possible. How can I see him?” You turn to Ben. “How can I see you?”

Ben swallows. His Adams apple bobs. “I don’t know. We figured it out this morning.”

Klaus rubs his jaw and pouts. “He punched me. That’s how we figured it out.”

“Y/N,” Ben says, voice shaking. “Come here.”

Part of you is hesitant. This is too strange, too good. You’re going to get your hopes up and then everything is going to shatter because there is absolutely no way in hell any of this can be real.

But you step towards him anyway. Your feet can’t carry you fast enough, and in two seconds flat you’ve crossed the room and your hands are over his own, curled around the bottom of the bowling ball. His breath leaves him when he feels your flesh against his own, and your throat closes over with the sudden urge to cry.

“I want to hug you,” you whisper. “But I don’t want you to go away.”

Ben laughs, real and genuine, a hint of relief tucked into the noise. He turns to Klaus and clicks his fingers. “Pass me something smaller. Something a little lighter that I can hold with one hand.”

Klaus hands him a packet of weed. Ben rolls his eyes, tosses the bowling ball onto the bed, and before you have a chance to ask what he’s just done, he’s wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

The world is right again.

It’s like you can feel it falling back into place, a strange feeling. It overwhelms you to the point where tears drip from your face and land in his shirt - you don’t know if you’re dampening his coat, if that kind of thing can even happen to ghosts. You don’t care. At this moment in time, you care about nothing but Ben’s arms around you, his chin resting on your head, the memories that floor you in a matter of seconds, because even though he’s grown and he’s aged and you can see him, his embrace is still the exact same as you’ve always remembered it.

Home. His embrace is home.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” he whispers back.

“Everything. For being the way I am. For ending up the way I ended up.”

Ben pulls back at this. You stumble, the unexpected movement leaving you breathless and craving more, but Ben keeps his hands on your shoulders as his eyes rake over your face. You look into them, trying to guess what he’s feeling but Ben has always had a skill when it comes to hiding what he’s truly feeling; he had to growing up in the Hargreeves household.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and he sounds a little out of breath.

“We had such high hopes for each other,” you mumble. The tears are pouring by now, your voice shaky. “I should have gone on and done what I always said I would do. I should have tried harder to make you proud.”

“Y/N,” Ben whispers. “Y/N, there’s absolutely nothing you can do that would make me love you any less.”

Love. There that word is again, sending your heart into spirals because you don’t know how to comprehend it. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt love. You’re unfamiliar with its terms, how to identify whether you truly love something or not.

But you think about it now, as Ben’s words filter in your head and you let a warm silence take over for just a minute. Love is always described as the best. People talk about how great it is when it works out, how it changes lives and personalities, how it saves people. It’s always seen as this big and obvious thing, and maybe to normal people it is. Maybe to normal people, it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But you and Ben Hargreeves are far from normal, so you force yourself to look at it from a completely different standpoint.

When you were with Ben all them years ago, you didn’t want to leave his side. You were happiest sitting in his room, ignoring your parents frantic texts and phone calls inquiring where you were. You were closer to him and his siblings than you were to your own family. When Ben held your hand, you felt safe.

When Ben died, a part of you died with him. A vital part. The part that kept you sane - it disappeared, leaving behind the shell of a human you think you are today.

But now, as Ben’s hands rub small circles into your shoulders, his dark eyes burning into your own, you realise with a jolt that those feelings haven’t entirely gone away. You’re brought back to your childhood, sitting cross-legged in his room, practicing your first kiss, pretending you hated it when he leaned over and pressed his lips to yours. He had pulled away, beetroot red when Reginald came storming into the room in anger at the antics he just witnessed; you’d been told to go home that day, but you appeared the next day and things were forgotten.

Ben continues to stare at you, waiting for your response. His eyes trace your own, and you’re too afraid of shattering this moment to look away.

You swallow. “Will I be able to see you for good now?”

A tiny smile crawls onto his face. “I think Klaus and I got it figured out.”

You close your eyes, letting your head fall forward to rest back in the crook of his neck; the relief you feel is indescribable. It takes up every space in your body. Feeling his warmth against you gives you a surge of hope that you once thought you lost for good.

His hands trace circles into the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him. The tears don’t stop. His words don’t stop circulating your head. You ignore Klaus as he makes gagging noises behind you, instead choosing to focus solely on the feel of Ben pressing against you once again.

---

“You look a lot better today.”

You smile, wiping sweat from your brow. Ben and Klaus have come to visit; Klaus is busy in the corner somewhere, chatting it up with one of the men from the centre next door - he’s called Mr Benson, an alcoholic who has been in this place for three years now, in and out and in and out. He’s one of your main sources of inspiration - you don’t want to end up like him, so you’re trying your best to wean yourself off the bad stuff.

Ben sits in front of you, tossing a bouncy ball between his hands. It’s this bouncy ball that is keeping him tethered to Earth, and you watch nervously as he carelessly throws it around.

“You know if you drop that, you’ll disappear,” you point out, picking up another dumbbell. “That’s gonna be pretty difficult for us to hide.”

Ben glances over his shoulder. The only other people in the gym are Mr Benson and Klaus, and neither of them seem interested in what you and Ben are doing.

Ben turns back and shrugs, finally flopping onto his back and tossing the ball in the air above his head. “It’s fine. We’re getting better at this thing, anyway.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s gonna be seen as insane. My boyfriend disappearing into thin air is gonna be quite difficult to explain.”

Ben’s eyes light up. “I’m never gonna get used to that, you know.”

“Used to what?”

“You calling me boyfriend.” He shakes his head. “It’s weird.”

“You can always tell me to stop if you want.”

He scoffs. “I never want you to stop. You know that.”

You grin, because you do. He’s told you time and time again, exaggerating each time with a kiss that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

“I meant what I said, though,” he continues. “You do look better. Is the treatment working?”

“It’s getting easier,” you reply. “I don’t crave a smoke every few seconds. I’m still struggling to sleep, and being sober is still exhausting-”

Ben scoffs.

But,” you say, “it’s getting easier. You and Klaus are keeping me sane.”

“Me. Just me. Fuck Klaus.”

“I’d much rather fuck-”

Ben snaps up, grabs your hands and pulls you down on top of him.

It all happens so fast, you barely have time to process what is happening before his lips are on your own in a kiss that starts out more passionate than you are prepared for. Your heart skips a beat, and it’s instinct when you reach up and tangle your hands in his soft black hair. He grins against your mouth, just like he always does because the disbelief of being able to do this is still so new, even three months on.

You giggle, pulling away. You lean your palms against his chest and look down at him, raising a brow.

“What was that for?”

“You were about to say something vulgar,” he replies, trailing his hands along your hips. “I can’t have Mr Benson hearing something vulgar.”

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bluejaysgonerogue · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry PT.2-Stucky x Reader

Read first part first!

Warning; Mentions of S***ide, cutting, extreme depression,

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Please, dive in.

—

I stop shading the background of a picture, looking up at the New York City Lights.

If you need me

Wanna see me

You better hurry

Cause I'm leaving soon

Sorry can't Save me now

Sorry I don't know how

Sorry there's no way out

But down

Mmm

Down

I skip the song, not wanting to think of jumping off this roof. I made them a promise, and I will keep that promise even if they hate me for it.

Promise us you won't ever die because you don't have us with you.

They had said those words with such seriousness as they sat with me on stools at the island. I had nodded my head, agree and telling them the same before we all kissed.

It's not true

Tell me I've been lied to

Crying isn't like you

Oh-oh-oh

I let a single tear fall down my cheek as I think of the pained looks they gave me. The first day I stopped sleeping with them, they looked so sad the next morning. When Steve had gone to pour my tea, he had found I had already finished the job. And added the cream Bucky usually drops in.

What the hell did I do?

Never been the type to

Let someone see right through

Oh-oh-oh

I had wiggled out of their passionate hugs from behind, shrugged off their shoulder kisses. I stopped going to dinner, lunch and breakfast, residing with tony in his lab. Steve and Bucky took turns dropping off food, but I eventually stopped eating

Maybe won't you take it back

Say you were tryna make me laugh

And nothing has to change today

You didn't mean to say "I love you"

I love you and I don't want to

They had confronted me a week after I left their room, asking me what was wrong and cupping my face and kissing my head and face. I told them I had rethought a lot since I had died and that I wanted to play the field. So, after they had started to leave me alone, I'd go to bars and hookup and date people. They didn't matter- just greedy people who wanted the chance to be in Stark Tower with the Avengers. Hell, one idiot even tried to steal nats underwear, and he didn't leave without a limp and a dislocated shoulder.

Oh-oh-oh

Up all night on another red eye

I wish we never learned to fly

high

I had gone to LA for a few weeks, meeting youtubers who wanted to feature me in their videos. I dated a guy for a hot minute, posting only one video with him. We had gotten this idea to reenact cute couple photos. We did, he edited it and posted. I stalked the comments from my hotel room, seeing that the YouTube account Steve and Bucky had set up had commented a few paragraphs. The guys fans got really toxic and hated on stucky, some calling them fags. Ugh. I hate that word so much.

Maybe we should just try

To tell ourselves a good lie

I didn't mean to make you cry

In the airport, after my flight, tony had Happy drive me back. I, Of course, didn't know that Steve and Bucky we're having meltdowns in the back of the car. After about ten minutes, I practically forced happy to pull over and let me sit in the passenger seat up front. We had sat in silence as we listened to the sobs of my exes.

"Yknow, tony told me they had been crying the whole time you were gone." Happy had said when we were on a less crowded freeway.

“I know." I had said, while giving a blank stare out the window.

"Could you maybe-just maybe- try forgiving them? All they want is you kid."

"I know."

"Look, you don't get love like that. It's once in a lifetime sorta thing. You gotta stick with it when you got it, because you never know when you're going to loose them."

"Happy, look, I'm just in the way of their relationship. Once they get over it, I know they will be happier without me, eventually." I give him the first reason why I'm doing this.

"Okay kid. Okay."

Maybe won't you take it back

Say you were tryna make me laugh

And nothing has to change today

You didn't mean to say "I love you"

I love you and I don't want to

Bucky and I had to spar for fury. The man had us in minimal clothing for some goddamn reason. And we all know how hot Bucky is with no top on. So of course I let it slip.

“Heya Moss." Bucky called me by my last name, something he'd never done before.

"Hello Barnes." I usually called him Sarge or James. But never before has I called him Barnes. He looked pained, like a kicked puppy. I know I shouldn't've fallen for it, but I did.

"God I love you so much." I gave him a hug before realizing what I was going. I quickly pushed myself away, rushing out of the gym, out of the shield base, and out of New York. I took a plane out to Columbus Ohio for a change in scenery. Went and saw some local bands, ate some of the best Chinese ever, and had a lot of one night stands.

The smile that you gave me

Even when you felt like dying

We fall apart as it gets dark

I'm in your arms in Central Park

There's nothing you could do or say

I can't escape the way, I love you

I don't want to, but I love you

When I came back to the tower, Natasha had actually ambushed me with hugs. She held me close and pulled me towards Steve and Bucky's Room.

In fact, that's where I am right now. Standing outside their door with Natasha's arm around my shoulder. She knocks, getting a weak 'go away' in response.

"Cmon, Ash. Say something. Sing something, just do something. They've been doing horribly. They stopped eating when Bucky came back full out bawling and in tears after the sparring incident. The team doesn't know why you started avoiding those two. We all know how close you guys are. Please ash they've been more miserable than I was after Clint." She stops for a moment. A vow she took to take a moment of silence after saying his name. "Please Ash. Say something to them. You're the only one they'll open the door to."

I look at her, a dumbfounded expression on my face.

"Nat, it's been three and a half months. They should be over me."

"Well, they aren't."

"Natasha, I don't deserve those angels. They're literal human gods. They're the perfect two people to be together. They're so compatible it's unbelievable. I throw that off nat. I throw off their relationship Becuase they feel like they can't just give each other attention, they have to give me attention too. Nat, I love those shïtheads more than I love the team. But, I hold them back. So I let them go. Natasha, it's 4 am, I just got away from some creepo who tried to take my uterus. I am not in the mood to deal with two crying men. Especially not the only two who I would actually cry for. So please, tell everyone to stop circling me in and let me go to my room." By now, all of the avengers, save tony, bucky, Steve and of course nat, has formed a circle around the door and me, all in full armor. Hell, Loki had created some fücking forcefield or something to keep me unable to go anywhere aside from inside that door.

"Ash, you have to pull your big girl panties up and admit that they can't function without you."

"They did just fine for a few months." I retort, staring Wanda and Natasha down.

"Loki, can your just pull them out? Or put her in there butt naked? Please?" Sam looks bored at this point, determined to get away from here and back onto his couch.

"Woah woah woah, no way in hell that is going to happen." I sigh, finally realizing they've cornered me. "Damn you guys are evil."

I turn to the door, putting my fingers on the glossy paint of the door. i let it rest there for a while, tears threatening to fall down my face as my lip trembles.

"Say something I'm giving up on you. I'll be the one if you want me to. Anywhere I would've followed you." I finally let the tears fall, choking me as I sing the song they should be singing.

"Say something in giving up on you." I wait a second before continuing. "And I. Am feeling so small. It was over my head. I feel nothing at all."

I lean my forehead against the door, my breath fogging up the paint. "And I. Will stumble and fall. I'm still learning to love. Just starting to crawl." I really was new to love. They were my first real relationship, of course.

"Say something im giving up on you. I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you. Anywhere I would've followed you. Say something im giving up on you." Instead of the strong voices used in the recording, I use my head voice, softly as it cracks with my sobs.

"And I. Will swallow my pride. You're the ones that I love. But I'm saying goodbye." I fall to my knees, feeling the eyes of my teammates burning a hole in the door.

"Say something, I'm giving up on you. And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you. And anywhere, I would have followed you. oh say something, I'm giving up on you" I'm starting to give up on them. Maybe they won't forgive me. Honestly, I wouldn't blame them if they never did. I'm a horrible person for what I did to them.

"Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something" I just collapse against the door, my back and head falling against it. I cry, looking up at the grey ceiling. I stop singing, talking softly now. I know that if they tried, they could hear me. "Say something"

"I'm so sorry. God I'm such a mess. I miss you guys. So much. I miss cuddling, I miss talking. I miss sleeping in between you two. I miss making you guys breakfast in bed in the rare occasion you guys weren't up before me. God I'm such a goddamned idiot. I'm so new to love. God, I've never let myself get this close to anyone before you two came along and crashed my party of one. God, I miss you two. So, so, so much. Y'know, Happy told me that you guys were miserable. God I'm so sorry I left you in the car. That should've done it. But it didn't. Because I'm the fücking idiot that I am and I took you two angels for granted." I pause, turning my torso to rest my hand on the doorframe. "God, I miss curling up in your tops, snuggling into your sweaters when I'm sick. I actually miss the empty feeling when you two are both gone on missions without me. I miss climbing into our closet and sitting on the floor between your clothes. I miss the sandalwood smell I get when Steve's been gone, and I miss the smell of cedar that becomes potent when Bucky gone alone. I miss everything about you guys and I don't know how I'm still alive and here. I don't know why I haven't just jumped off the roof of this tower."

That's when it happens. The door flips open and my head is caught by a warm lap. I am pulled inside the dark, musty smelling room, the door slammed after I'm inside. I look at the guy who's lap I fell in, only to not recognize him.

"Who are you?" I ask after a quick look at his face. He has long, long deep blonde hair and an unkept and unforgettably long beard. His eyes are a dull blue, and his face is tear stained. I look around his neck, breathing in his scent. "Cedar... Wait Steve?" I look at him. He looks like shït. And he's just staring at me with a blank expression.

"Oh my god Steve are you okay? Have you even gotten up lately? Why are your eyes so dull, why'd you grow your beard out so long? Why haven't you cut your hair? Where's Bucky?" I ambush him with questions as I look his face over, taking it inbetween my hands and moving it around so I can inspect him.

"Wait Steve why are you wearing long-" I pause for a moment, realizing what I'm saying. "Oh my god Steve no. God no. Please god please please please no tell me you didn't." He doesn't say anything, but the slight movement in his face tells me everything.

"Shit." I takes me a split second to trip his sleeves up, seeing the scars and lines of dried blood. They're deep, but healing well thanks to that serum. "You idiot. If it weren't for that serum you'd be dead and I couldn't yell at you for being so stupid. I mean, Nomad you at least took care of himself. Why'd you do that Steve? Why did you start-" I stop again, already knowing the answer. "Oh god I hate myself so much right now. What the hell is wrong with me. I can't even make up for the shit I've caused you. Damn I'm such a mess. Going around town and keeping beds warm. God I missed you Steve. I'm so sorry I'm such an idiot for leaving you two. I'm such a goddamned blind dense idiot-"

He cuts me off, pulling me to his chest and kissing my forehead. I let him sit there for a second, sighing as I finally feel at home. And then I remember.

"Bucky." I get up off of Steve, searching around the room for the brunette. My eyes sift through the piles of dirty clothes littering the floor. I rake through the closet before my eyes land on the bed.

"Dear god." I see him, gauze on his arm. He's collapsed in the bed, a pillow underneath his head and a blanket tucked around him. I rush over, jumping into the bed and inspecting him.

His arm is wrapped in bandages, his metallic arm slightly corroded. His eyes are staring at the ceiling, his mouth slightly ajar. "Steve?" He asks, low and slow. I let more tears fall from my eyes as I place my hand over his, lifting it to my lips.

"Oh god buck... I'm so sorry... I'm so, so, so, so sorry. God I'm such a fück up. I always leave you guys behind, letting you watch me from behind. What did I ever do to deserve you two... because I honestly don't. You two are angels in every way, and I'm the personification of hell... god Bucky why'd you do this..." his cuts are deeper than Steve's, almost to the bone. Most are healed over, the only fresh one on his upper bicep.

"Ash?" He asks, still not looking over. I let out a small cry, holding the back of his hand to my forehead. He moves his hand down, letting it rest on my cheek.

"Yeah baby?" He uses his hand to guide me above him. I can't stop the tears, hearing them hit the fabric as he moved me above him. His eyes are dull, blank, lifeless as they stare up at me. There's a small spark once his eyes focus, hope, before it fade away again.

"Is it really you this time?" He mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Yeah. It's me. I promise buck. I promise I'm back home sarge. And I promise I'm never going to leave you two again." I give his forehead a light kiss before hugging him, my nose finding the crook of his neck. I feel Steve come and lay behind me, putting an arm around my waist lightly.

"Good." Bucky turns on his side facing me, his fleshy warm arm finding its way behind my lower back, pulling me closer to him. Steve shifts forward, placing a sweet kiss on my neck. Bucky pecks my lips before closing his eyes. After a few minutes I hear him and Steve lightly snoring. I open my eyes to see Bucky looking peaceful for, which I would later find out, the first time in a long time.

|—☆—|

I wake up, a soft light seeping in through the curtains. I try to roll over, only to be stopped by two pairs of hands.

"Oh no, you're staying right here." Bucky's husky morning voice breaks the silence as I huff back down onto the covers. He smiles, his sunken eyes and pale face making me frown slightly.

I pull Bucky closer to me, Steve groaning slightly at more movement. "Go back to sleep babe..." he mumbles, pulling me closer to his chest.

"How can I? You two are too cute to miss a second of taking in those features." I smile as I brush my fingers over his beard. I kiss his forehead, smiling before turning to Bucky.

"Wait... how come Buck doesn't have a beard?" I ask, brushing my fingers along his stubble. He looks me in the eyes, a warm, comforting feeling falling over me.

"I remembered how you said you like me clean shaven... so I shave." He says, a smirk on his face as he scoots closer to me and Steve.

"Ok mister crowd pleaser." I give him a quick kiss, nestling myself closer to him and Steve.

|—☆—|

It took us literally until 1 in the afternoon to want to get up.

Steve has left first, going to the bathroom and taking a shower. Bucky followed close behind, then I joined him the the shower and helped him wash his hair. They had already gotten dressed in simple jeans and T-shirt's, now cleaning up some of the messes they made.

I look down at myself. I'm wearing a pair of black cotton leggings, converse, yet I have no top on. Then it hits me. 'Bucky's sweaters!' I walk over to the dresser, reaching down to open the sweater drawer before I suddenly stop.

"Maybe they don't want me to wear them right now..." I breathe out, letting my hand fall by my side. I mean, I did leave them. And return their sweaters. I mean, I know that they used to love me in them, and I love wearing them becuase they smell like Steeb and buck, but may-

"Go on ash." Bucky's smooth voice rings throughout the room, interrupting my inner conflict.

I freeze for a second, suddenly having difficulty breathing at the same rate. I slowly turn around, letting my head fall to the side as my face contorts into a confused jumble of anxiety and fear.

"Wha...?" I let the word slip out of my mouth, my breathing hitching.

"Go on doll. Take a sweater or two." He smiles, using the pet name he gave me when we first met.

I stand, my arms against the bar as I look out into the ensemble of people. A man with brown hair, with strikingly blue eyes sits next to me, getting a beer from the bartender.

"Hello doll. Why are you alone on such a night?" He asks, a small smirk gracing his angelic features.

"Well, some boys cheat and don't cover it up too well." I say, looking out around the crowd before watching my ex, Conrad, dancing with some blonde chick in a skimpy dress.

After a second, the man breaks the comfortable silence. "Ah, so he's a disloyal idiot then."

I turn my head to him, tilting my head to the side and back as my eyebrows furrow together. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, doll, any guy who get with you should stay loyal no matter what." He smiles as he sips his beer. "You're cute, and I can tell your Smart, witty, and filled with some sort of fire inside you."

"Well, it's nice to meet you sir. Names Ash. Ashlynd Moss." I smile, extending a hand to him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Ash. I'm James." A metal arm reaches out to bring my hand up to his lips. I look at the small amount of the arm that is exposed, infatuated with the intricacy of it- even from a distance. He pulls his hand away quickly, moving it behind his back. "I-I'm sorry about that..."

"No no no, please it's nothing. In fact," I use my left hand to break the seal of the silicone on my hand. I pull the rubbery material off, sliding off the sleeve aswell. "I know exactly how you feel." I let my metallic Vibranium appendage shine between us. (It starts in the middle of the lower half of her arm)

"Wow, that's beautiful doll."

I smile at Bucky, turning and opening the drawer. I take out his biggest, fluffiest blue and red sweater, pulling it on. The neckline falls off my shoulder and the hem is at my mid thigh, but I love it.

"Thank you James." I smile, raising the sleeve to my nose to let the sandalwood invade my lungs. I go over and sit between Steve and Bucky, leaning my head on Steve shoulder.

We sit in silence for a while, just looking at each other and kissing lightly. I stare down at my right hand for a while, contemplating if I should take off the cover or not.

"Oh fuck it." I say internally, egging myself on. I push up on the latex, breaking the seal. My hand pulls at each of the fingers, breaking the suction between the metal the the fleshy material. I pull lightly on the bottom of the sleeve before pushing it down from above.

"Ash, why?" Steve mutters, both his and Bucky's eyes burning into my back.

"Because, I except you guys fully for who you are, and you do the same, then why should I have to hide this huge part of myself?" I turn around and look at him and Bucky. I give them a small smile, getting big goofy ones in return.

"It isn't a huge part of you ash." Steve says, nuzzling into my neck.

"Steve, I lost a third of my arm. That's a huge part of me." I roll my eyes, kissing the top of his head.

"Physically, Maybe it's a huge part of you, but emotionally? No. It's not a part of who you are Ashlynd. It's something that made you who are today.

"Steve, I lost my arm to a red room newbie. That's despicable. I had finished the graduation ceremony, and the kid came up, broke my bone clean and ripped the flesh off." I look down at the fingers. Flexing them in and out.

"Maybe that did happen doll, but it doesn't mean anything." Bucky kisses my cheek. "You're still the best girl out there."

"So you're saying I can't beat you or clint?" I smile quietly as I say these words, leaning away from Steve to look Bucky in the eye.

“No." Bucky takes my metal hand in his, stroking it lightly. "But I am saying you're better than Natasha. At least."

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