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colonelarr0w · 7 months ago

Text

What Might've Been

Sypnosis - A mysterious girl appears at the entrance of Jujutsu Technical High School -- not speaking a lick of English and not understanding where she is. She isn't human...but that gets you wondering...what is she?

Pairing(s) - ! ALL PLATONIC ! Satoru Gojo x Reader, Suguru Geto x Reader, Shoko Ieri x Reader

Warning(s) - mature themes, canon JJK violence, gore, child death, angsty ending (I'm sorry gang)

Word Count - 10.4k

A/N - Randomly got an idea to write a fic where the Reader was a curse. I hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Darkness.

For as long as you could remember, the only sight seen by your eyes was an overarching darkness that seemed to stretch on forever — never once giving any indication that there may be some kind of light at the end of the otherwise never ending tunnel.

And to you, that was okay. The darkness became your friend over time, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety that could not be replicated by anything. It held your hands and guided you, watching silently as you grew and developed until a time where you could be used — until a time where you would be useful to the world of curses.

But like many things, your darkness eventually found its end, creating an opening that allowed light to pour in and the warmth of the sun to touch your skin with gentle hands. Confused, you folded your fingers into the hand that the light offers you, and with squinted eyes you look around.

Where am I?

Your head turns, blinking a few times to adjust to the overwhelming light that only seems to brighten each time that your eyelids flutter open. Slowly, you turn in a circle on the heels of your feet, suddenly aware of the unfamiliar sensation that lies beneath the skin of your feet.

You glance down, tilting your head curiously at the uneven stones beneath you. Curiously, you bend your knees, lowering your palms to the ground and laying it flat against the stone, shocked to feel heat emanating back onto the skin of your palm.

What are you doing?

You stand up straight, ears perked as you attempt to locate the source of the voice who had addressed you. Oddly enough, you stand completely alone in the stone pathway, surrounded only by unmoving trees and bright green grass. You open your mouth, trying to will any kind of sound to leave your parted lips, but you remain silent.

You press your lips back together in a firm line, narrowing your eyes and once again lowering yourself to the ground, this time taking a seat in the center of the stone pathway. Above you is a maroon-colored arch, one that is hanging over a set of stairs that lead somewhere — but you’re not entirely sure just where it leads to.

Are you comfortable?

You nod happily, laying both of your palms against the warm stones and spreading out your fingers, feeling smaller pebbles being caught within the lines of your skin. Your eyes wander up your arm, noticing the small stitches that hold the various parts of you together.

The scars don’t horribly disfigure you, not like the other curses that you could recall seeing in the depths of your memories. They turned out more inhuman than you, you were one of the lucky who was made to pass as human — only discoverable by eyes that shined like the prettiest aquamarine stones. You believe it was called Six Eyes.

You lift one of your hands off of the stones, suddenly aware of just how hot it had felt against your skin. You shake your hand, forming an ‘o’ with your lips and blowing on the palm of your hand, shocked to feel an opposite sensation. It wasn’t warm, but at the same time it wasn’t completely cold. But it was cold enough to relieve the burn on your skin — and it’s then that you notice the pattern left behind by the stones.

“C’mon Suguru, I’m sure he won’t mind if we take our time with this one.”

You turn your head at the sound of another’s voice, tilting it curiously as you watch two figures appear at the top of the steps. Both are tall and wear the same kind of clothing, yet they also wear completely different styles. One of the figures — this one with bright white hair — wears his clothes tight, accentuating his otherwise lanky figure. The other figure — this one with longer, darker hair — wears his clothes baggy, with parachute pants that make his legs look larger than they most likely are.

You wonder which one of them is supposedly ‘Suguru’.

Careful now, remember the eyes.

You nod your head, pushing yourself to your feet with the help of your hands. You lift your head to peer up the stairs, noticing how both of the figures had stopped walking and are peering at you with the same curiosity as yourself.

“Hey! What’re you doing down there?” It’s the white-haired figure that calls out to you, his covered eyes no doubt focused on you. The dark-haired figure is silent, watching you with a wordless curiosity. Opposites.

You part your lips to speak again, feeling an uncomfortable vibration in the base of your throat. You quickly snap your jaw shut again, rubbing your fingers against the skin of your throat and wincing — that had been oddly painful. But at the same time, it only spurred on your curiosity. Why could the two figures make sounds with their mouths and you couldn’t?

“Hey!” the white-haired figure calls out again, this time lifting his arm and waving down at you. You mimic him, lifting your arm and waving back at him. Confused, the white-haired figure turns to the dark-haired figure at his side, nudging him before beginning to descend the steps.

You wait patiently for both figures to approach you, but even when they do, they stand a healthy distance away from you — likely because of the discolored scars that litter your body, holding you together like a freshly stitched doll.

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the three of you, only broken by the dark-haired figure clearing his throat and speaking to you, “What are you doing down here?”

You try for the third time to do what the dark-haired figure is doing — making sounds with his mouth. But the moment that you try, a strangled cough falls from you instead. With both palms, you cover your mouth, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the figures exchange a look with one another.

“What’s up with you?” the white-haired figure asks, tilting his head at you. You pout, jutting out your bottom lip and crossing your arms over your chest, disappointed that you couldn’t articulate yourself in the same way that both of the figures could.

The dark-haired figure is more sympathetic towards you, smacking a hand into the chest of the white-haired figure and shooting him a pointed glare. He turns back to you after a moment, his eyes softening as he gestures with his head towards you.

"You can't speak?"

You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows to create an expression that is a mixture between frustration and sadness. The dark-haired figure nods understandingly, humming to himself. You mimic him, humming as well.

The white-haired figure glances between you and the dark-haired figure, then letting out a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm over the shoulders of the figure standing beside him, still glaring at you through his sunglasses as if you were a roadblock to him – and in a way, you were.

"Come on Suguru, this is pointless. Let's just--"

"Shut up Satoru."

Suguru. He's the one with the dark hair.

Satoru. He's the one with the white hair.

Opposites.

You tilt your head curiously at them, listening as they bicker with one another. How Suguru tries to patient with both you and Satoru and how Satoru only continues to act like a spoiled child. Your eyes continue to flicker between each of the two as they speak, taking mental notes of the difference in their tones, postures, and facial expressions.

Suguru then turns to you again, having effectively shut Satoru up. You find yourself smiling at the expression that Satoru wears; he looks more like a disappointed child now as opposed to a spoiled one. It made you wonder if he acted like that constantly, or if it was because you were around.

"Why don't you come with us?" Suguru offers, extending his hand to you. You peer curiously at it, how his fingers lightly shake and how the lines in his palms flex as his fingers extend out to you. You glance down at your own palm, flexing your fingers before placing your palm flat on top of Suguru's.

Rolling his eyes, Satoru turns on his heel and begins to move back up the stairs, not caring to glance over his shoulder to check that you and Suguru were following him.

You glance at Suguru, who still holds your hand. You hum again, smiling as Suguru's eyes flicker to meet your awaiting gaze. He returns your smile, then gesturing with his head towards the top of the stairs. You nod understandingly, falling into step with Suguru and climbing the steps.

You tilt your head back to look at the archways that line the stairs, smiling to yourself as you walk quietly beside Suguru – neither of you say anything about the fact that your fingers are still interlinked. For as foreign as it was to you, it also felt familiar.

"Come on, you're both taking forever!" Satoru complains from further up the stairs, turning to finally glance at both you and Suguru from over his shoulder.

You release your hold on Suguru's hand, deciding to take it two steps at a time to properly catch up with Satoru, not wanting to hear him complain any longer. You spread your arms out to balance yourself once you reach the top of the stairs, spinning on your heel and grinning widely as Suguru walks into view – immediately returning your childlike grin.

"What do we say to Yaga?" Satoru asks as Suguru moves to stand at his side. Suguru hums, his gaze momentarily flickering to sneak a glance at you. You lift your hand to wave at him once his eyes land on you, then taking two large steps to stand directly beside Suguru.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," Suguru mutters, feeling his spine stiffen as you bravely fold your fingers into his own, squeezing at them and sending him another closed-eyed smile.

< … >

"And she was simply sitting there?" Yaga clarifies, raising an eyebrow at Suguru and Satoru – both of whom nod their heads. Satoru crosses his arms over his chest, having been mentally checked out of the conversation since first entering the office.

"From what we both saw," Suguru says, sneaking a glance at Satoru and mentally smacking his best friend at the disinterested look on his face, "yes. She was just sitting there."

Yaga hums in thought, folding his fingers together and resting his chin on top of his knuckles. He turns his head to the door, curious to see what would happen if he were to open it and allow you inside. But at the same time, he didn't want to risk a possible Curse or Curse User to have entry to his office, knowing that the action would carry its own unique set of consequences.

"Is she human?" Satoru asks, breaking the otherwise tense silence in the office. Yaga's eyes flicker to the third-year, his eyes narrowing as he mulls the question over in his head. That specific thought had not crossed his mind yet – were you human?

"Has she demonstrated anything that would indicate otherwise?" Yaga inquires. Satoru and Suguru exchange glances, thinking about your odd behavior and your inability to verbally communicate with either of them.

"Well, she acted oddly as we spoke to her. And when she herself tried to speak back to us, it was almost like she wasn't able to," Suguru answers, recalling the way that you had opened your mouth to speak and winced at the realization that nothing would come out.

Yaga nods thoughtfully, once again looking to the closed office door. He ponders his options, weighing them in his mind before he braces his palms against his legs, rising to his feet. He closes the distance to the door in two, long strides.

Outside of the door, you turn your head to the sound of the office's door clicking open, revealing a man with tanned skin and buzzed dark brown hair. You tilt your head up at him, pushing yourself to your feet and hiding your hands behind your back, peering up at the man with curious eyes.

"Hello there," Yaga says to you, trying his hardest not to sound intimidating. You blink at him, resembling a deer caught in a truck's headlights as you tilt your head to the opposite side.

Deciding to try again, you part your lips to speak, wanting desperately to say something to the man that towers over you. But just like the previous two times, the only thing that comes from your throat is a hum – just like how Suguru had hummed at you before.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Yaga glances down at your hands, watching as you lay your fingers against your throat, squeezing at it as if trying to force sounds out of it. He narrows his eyes at you, humming to himself before turning back to the office door. No, you weren't human.

"Why don't you come with me?" Yaga offers, gesturing with his hand towards the office. You follow his gaze, peering inside to see both Suguru and Satoru sitting on two wooden chairs. You grin, promptly making your way inside and beelining for Suguru, lowering yourself to sit cross-legged in front of his chair.

Yaga is only a step behind you, watching through narrowed eyes as you sit down in front of Suguru. With the way that you glance up at him, one might think that you were the third-year's obedient dog. Your eyes wait for him to notice you, lighting up the moment that his gaze meets yours – even if it's only for a fleeting moment.

They know what you are, be very careful.

You shake your head, ignoring the ringing in your ears and turning back to Yaga. The older man sits behind a grand oak desk, one that has papers scattered about its surface with scribbled lines drawn onto them. Suguru furrows hie eyebrows down at you, having noticed the flickering expression that had passed over your face – as if someone had blown into your ear and startled you.

"Both of you keep an eye on her. You may tell Shoko as well, but try to keep her from the other students," Yaga instructs, receiving nods of agreement from both Satoru and Suguru. You turn your head halfway to Yaga, curious as to who this mysterious 'Shoko' was.

Would they be another figure like Satoru? Or were they someone like Suguru?

"We understand," Suguru says, then standing from his seat and offering his hand to you. You lay your palm against his, allowing him to lift you off of the ground with shocking strength.

Satoru puffs out the air that he holds in his lungs, not reacting as his bangs fall back into place over his eyes, shielding his vision. You tilt your head at him, was he hiding his eyes on purpose? Or was there something else about him that you simply didn't know?

"Come on, let's get you a uniform," Suguru says to you, smiling. You return his smile brightly, bounding after him as he makes his way to the door of the office. Satoru follows close behind, hunched over with his hands stuffed into his pockets. It was effortlessly clear that he was inconvenienced by your presence.

You follow close behind Suguru as he leads you down a long, winding hallway. Besides the three of you, there isn't anyone else, which only piques your curiosity in who 'Shoko' was and who the 'other students' were. Deep down, you hoped that Shoko wasn't anything like Satoru – who continued to make it clear that he didn't like you one bit.

You turn your head to sneak a glance at Satoru, taking a mental note of the way that his eyebrows pinch together and the way that a pout settles over his lips. He walks close to Suguru's side, similar to the way that you did.

Suguru stops walking eventually, turning to peer down a small archway that leads to an outdoor area, one with the trees that matched those that you had walked past when Suguru and Satoru had led you up all of those stairs.

"Stay here, I'll go and get Shoko," Suguru says, nodding at both you and Satoru before walking outside. You take a step after him, but Satoru is quick to stop you, his fingers closing around your wrist and tugging you back to your original position.

"He said stay," Satoru says slowly, speaking to you as if you were a child who lacked understanding. You nod at him, pressing your lips firmly together and waiting patiently for Suguru to return.

The dark-haired male returns a few seconds later, another figure following behind him. Their hair is short and brown, with a beauty mark just underneath their left eye. You peer curiously at them, watching as they shift the position of something in their mouth – a stick with a brown end.

"Woah," the figure says, eyes raking up and down your figure before their eyes flicker between Suguru and Satoru, neither of which say anything in response. "Shoko, it's nice to meet you."

You smile brightly at the figure, holding your hand out to her in the same way that Suguru had done to you so many times before. Shoko returns your smile with one of her own, soft and gentle; and her hand folds into yours, shaking it politely.

"We've been tasked to keep an eye on her. She isn't allowed to be around any of the other students, obviously with us being the only exception," Suguru explains, stowing his hands away in his pockets, "at least, that's what Yaga told us."

"Babysitting duty," Satoru says in a sour tone, scrunching his nose in an expression of disgust as he glances to Shoko. She reaches a hand out, swiping at the back of his head and rolling her eyes at the dramatic cry that he lets out.

"You're such a jerk," Shoko mutters through her teeth, then turning to you, "don't mind him, yeah?"

You flash her a closed-eye smile, nodding in agreement.

< … >

"Go on and try again, there's nothing wrong with trying," Suguru says with a reassuring smile, finding himself biting back a chuckle at the frustrated expression that passes over your face. You puff your cheeks out, annoyed at the fact that every time that you tried to speak...nothing happened.

You inhale deeply, puffing your chest out and holding the air in your lungs before forcing your lips apart, trying once again to say one simple word.

Ignoring the small burn in your throat, you screw your eyes shut.

"Hello."

Suguru smiles, his eyes crinkled at the corners as you open your eyes again, staring at him like a deer in headlights. "See? I told you that you could do it."

You grin widely, springing up from your place in front of Suguru and barely containing the excitement that shoots through you. You curl your hands into gleeful fists as you continue happily dancing around, earning a proud chuckle from Suguru.

"Hello," you repeat, shocked at the sound of your own voice. It didn't sound anything like the little whispers in your head. Those were raspy, gravelly voices that felt like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. Your voice was soft, quiet – a stark contrast.

"Hi," Suguru returns, smiling again at you as you seat yourself back down in front of him. "Now, what's your name?"

You purse your lips, humming in thought before bubbling, "(Y/N)!"

Suguru nods, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle your hair. You lean into the touch, smiling brightly and repeating your name to him again.

Your ears perk at the sound of two pairs of footsteps, turning to see Satoru and Shoko walking into the otherwise empty classroom – presumably looking for both yourself and Suguru. Satoru says nothing to either of you whereas Shoko waves politely, shooting you a kind smile.

"Hi!" you say excitedly. The sound of your voice causes Shoko's eyes to widen, the cigarette between her lips falling to the floor in front of her. The ghost of her smile returns, spreading across her face as she kneels in front of you.

"Well would you look at that? You found your voice," Shoko compliments, patting your head in a fashion similar to the way that Suguru had. You smile at the display of affection, leaning closer to Shoko and then glancing to Satoru, hoping for that same kind of praise.

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly, unfolding the arms that he had previously crossed over his chest. "Good job (Y/N)."

You smile, scrunching your nose up at him.

< ... >

"There you go. Now, when you go to punch someone, tuck your thumb inward," Suguru instructs, lifting his hand and folding his own thumb inward, then gesturing to you to mimic the action.

"In," you repeat, holding up your hand and making a show of tucking your thumb inward. Suguru nods at you, then gesturing to the punching dummy that he had nicked from one of the training rooms in order to help you with your self-defense.

It had been six months since Suguru first stumbled upon you at the stairs of Jujutsu Tech, and in those six months he still didn't have an answer to the question of who you really were or where you truly came from.

Sure, you looked human enough – even though the stitches that littered your body could tell a completely different story depending on the author. But even with those stitches, you acted like a constantly excitable child, always wanting to be at Suguru's side and wanting to be involved in everything that he did.

To him, it was endearing, albeit very confusing at the same time.

You turn to the punching dummy in front of you, curling your hands into fists and making sure to tuck your thumbs inward just like you had been told. You throw a punch at the dummy, smiling as it wobbles backward before returning to its original position.

"Good?" Your body turns to glance at Suguru, already feeling your senses tingling at the proud smile that settles itself on Suguru's lips.

"Good job (Y/N)."

"Yeah, you're doin' great," Shoko agrees as she walks onto the training field, smiling and returning your hug as you rush to throw your arms around her. "Yeah, yeah, I missed you too."

"Where's 'Toru?" you inquire curiously, tilting your head as you realize Satoru's absence. Shoko glances over her shoulder, furrowing her eyebrows and letting out an exasperated sigh through her nose.

"He was supposed to be right behind me. Guess he got sidetracked," Shoko says offhandedly, though she regrets her tone upon seeing the fall in your expression. Your shoulders slump, eyes casting themselves to the ground as you take a step back from her.

"Does 'Toru like me?"

Suguru and Shoko exchange knowing glances with one another. Neither of them answer you quickly, which only adds to the feeling of dejection.

Shoko lifts her hand, resting it reassuringly on your shoulder and sending you a comforting smile. "Sure he does, he just has a weird way of showin' it."

All you could do is nod in response.

< … >

"A mission?" You can't help but tilt your head at Suguru, who only nods at you as he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves. He chuckles, then turning completely to you.

“Yeah, Yaga will sometimes send us out on missions. We go out to a given location and exorcise the curses that reside there,” Suguru explains, watching as you mull his words over in your head.

Curses? Exorcise?

“What’s a curse?” you ask, following Suguru as he begins to walk towards the entrance of Jujutsu Tech. He turns to glance at you over his shoulder, feeling himself smile as you spread your arms out to balance yourself, having accidentally rolled your ankle while following him.

“A curse is—“

“There you are Suguru! I’m offended, you almost left without me,” Satoru says loudly from behind you, dramatically wiping away tears that definitely don’t exist.

You turn and smile as the snowy-haired male approaches both you and Suguru, throwing his arm over Suguru’s shoulder and sparing you a half-assed glance. You smile and wave, still polite as ever.

“Are you going too?” you turn to Satoru, “Yaga said that I can go too!”

Satoru forces himself to smile, left eye twitching in annoyance as he turns his head to look at you. “Joy.”

“Don’t be like that Satoru,” Suguru scolds, whacking a hand against the back of Satoru’s head. The latter lets out a yelp, cupping the back of his head and shooting Suguru a half-assed glare — one that is immediately reciprocated by the raven-haired male.

You smile lightly at both of the boy’s antics, taking two steps to stand at Suguru’s left side, then turning your head to flash that same smile at Satoru.

For a moment, something inside of Satoru softens. But only for a moment.

“Ready to go?” you say to both of the third-years, smiling and folding your hands behind your back as your gaze flickers between the two.

“Stay close, okay?” Suguru says to you, his eyes softening as his gaze falls on you. You smile, nodding your head at him.

“Okay!”

< … >

So that’s what an exorcism is.

You watch through curious eyes as Suguru holds what used to be a curse in his hands, fingers curled around the small, swirling ball. He lifts it up, eyes examining it for a moment before he notices your curious gaze.

“That’s…what a curse is?” you say, pointing at it and scrunching your nose. Suguru nods his head, opening his mouth and promptly absorbing the curse — just as he always had done.

Your eyes widen as you watch him consume the ball, eyebrows lifting to create a worried indent in the skin of your forehead. Your hands shoot out, taking hold of either side of his face and tilting it this way and that.

“What did you do that for?!” you squeal, squeezing Suguru’s face and staring worriedly at him. He chuckles, unable to answer with the force at which you hold his cheeks.

“It’s okay (Y/N),” he says, voice slightly muddled, “it’s just my technique.”

“Technique?” you echo.

He nods, adjusting his jaw once your hands release him. He smiles again at you, the sight slightly reassuring you.

“Sorcerers have what are called Cursed Techniques, mine just so happens to be the absorption of curses,” Suguru explains, smacking his lips as a disgusted expression falls over his face.

You tilt your head at him, pressing two fingers against your throat before your gaze returns to his facial expression — how his eyebrows are slightly pinched together, how his eyes water and how his jaw momentarily sets itself in place.

“Not good?” you whisper to him, as if asking him about a secret that only he knew the answer to. Suguru’s eyes flicker to you, his gaze softening.

“No,” he answers simply, shaking his head at you. You pout, bottom lip jutting out before you reach out and pat his shoulder — similar to the way that he would pat either your head or shoulder as a means of comfort.

“Why do you do it then?”

Suguru pauses, his hand coming up to cover your own. His fingers affectionately squeeze your own, lips turning upward in a smile just as soft as his actions.

“It’s a curse (Y/N). We’re meant to exorcise them,” Suguru reiterates, smacking his lips together in an attempt to rid his tongue of the taste left behind by the consumed curse.

You hum, glancing down at the stitches that crawl up your arms. We’re meant to do it. We’re meant to do it.

But why are they meant to do it?

“So…curses are bad?” you turn your head to Suguru, falling into step with him as he glances down at his phone. Satoru must have texted him regarding the curse that he was meant to exorcise.

Suguru hums in agreement, stowing his phone away into his pocket and casting you a sideways glance. He makes a mental note of the conflicted expression on your face, eyebrows pinched together and eyes slightly narrowed.

“Yeah, they pose as a danger to people that can’t see them. So us Jujutsu Sorcerers are sent to exorcise them,” Suguru explains, reaching behind him to fold his fingers into your own. Your lips, which usually turn upward at any given affection, remain pressed together in a thin line.

Your eyes widen for a moment, an expression of realization flickering over your face. You stop walking beside Suguru, not reacting as his hand tugs at yours, silently telling you to continue walking.

“…they pose as a danger to people that can’t see them.”

Wait a minute.

“What are you doing out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?” Suguru says gently to the little girl standing in front of him, her arms wound tightly around a small stuffed rabbit.

She sniffles, using the hand that doesn’t hold her rabbit to wipe the stray tears that roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she sobs.

Suguru sighs, an exasperated puff of breath through his nose as he places a hand on top of the girl’s head, rubbing her hair comfortingly.

“It’s alright.”

Curiously, you kneel down beside Suguru, staring at the girl with your head tilted to the side. You lift a finger, pointing at the rabbit that the girl clutches to her chest.

“I like your toy,” you say to her with a smile, mimicking the way that Suguru had smiled at the girl in order to prove that he wasn’t there to hurt her.

The girl only sniffles again, her gaze never once leaving Suguru. Curiously, the raven-haired male flicks his eyes to glance at you — had the girl maybe not heard you?

“I like your rabbit,” Suguru repeats, gesturing with his head towards the toy clutched in the girl’s arms. The girl smiles gently, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she hugs her rabbit a little tighter.

“Thanks Mister.”

You pause, blinking. The girl continues to smile at Suguru, forgetting about any and all of the fear that she had been feeling just seconds before.

She couldn’t see you.

Non-sorcerers can’t see Curses. Did that mean that…?

“Hey…(Y/N), you alright?” Suguru asks, his voice filtering its way back into your ears. You turn quickly to him, blinking away the last remnants of your trance.

“Yeah! I’m okay!” you answer with a bubbly smile, though that thought lingers in the back of your mind — what were you?

< … >

“Have any of you seen (Y/N)? I wanted to practice a Reverse Curse Technique with her,” Shoko shifts her cigarette from the left side of her mouth to her right, peering curiously at Suguru and Satoru.

Satoru shrugs, sipping at the can of cola in his hand and glancing at Suguru, who also shrugs.

“Lovely, you’re both so useful,” Shoko rolls her eyes, turning on her heel and departing from the room. She wanders down the hall, passing by your dorm and stopping as she notices the door had been left open.

Curiously, she peers inside, shocked to see you sitting in the center of the room. Surrounding your crossed legs are various textbooks from taken from the library, all of them open to pictures of various curses — ranging from Second-Grade to Special-Grade.

Your eyes roam over the sketched pictures, fingers running over a particularly nasty looking Special-Grade curse that looks oddly similar to a disfigured human — a woman to be exact. You tilt your head at the image of her, her arms were stitched in a similar fashion to your own, but yet you both looked drastically different.

“(Y/N)? What’re you doin’ in here?” Shoko smiles softly at you as she enters, knocking once to alert you to her presence. You turn quickly to her, slamming the textbook shut and looking at her as if you had been caught doing something that you weren’t meant to be doing.

“Hi Sho’!” you say affectionately, standing from your place in the center of the room and brushing your hands down the front of your pants. She eyes you curiously, humming to herself before removing her cigarette from between her lips, puffing out one last cloud of smoke before she walks to the window of your dormitory, then disposing of her finished cigarette.

She tilts her head, noticing your avoidance of her question, “Everything okay?”

You nod, humming at her and folding your hands behind your back, forcing your gaze to focus on her and not wander down to the closed textbook by your foot. You swallow the growing lump in your throat, wincing as it momentarily gets stuck — hopefully Shoko wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah! I was just reading, Sugu said it was a good way to kill time!” you answer with your usual bubbly smile, but Shoko doesn’t fail to notice how it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding something, and it wasn’t very subtle.

“Oh cool, what’re you reading?” Shoko inquires, tilting her head and lowering herself to the floor, plucking one of the closed textbooks off of the ground and flipping through it. She makes a mental note of the way that your expression falls, like a child who had been caught doing something that they shouldn’t.

“Reading about curses, those thingies that Suguru and ‘Toru went to exorcise,” you answer honestly, taking the textbook from her and opening to the page that you had been staring at, turning it towards her and smiling again — hoping again that she wouldn’t notice the way that you force your lips upward.

“Oh, that’s a Special-Grade,” Shoko comments, smiling at you as you turn the textbook back around, glancing down at the sketched picture. “They’re tough ones.”

“Stronger than Sugu and ‘Toru?”

Shoko shakes her head, chuckling breathily, “No, not stronger than those two idiots.”

You glance down at the picture, at the stitches on the curse’s arms and the way that its eyes crinkle in a sadistic, maniacal smile. You tilt your head — she looked a little bit like you.

“Are curses bad?” you glance up at Shoko, who stares curiously back at you. “Are all of them bad?”

“Well, yeah. They wanna hurt the innocent, and that’s why we exorcise them,” Shoko explains, following you to the floor as you sit down, crossing your legs. Your eyes wander back down to the sketched image, eyebrows pinching together.

“But what if a curse doesn’t hurt people?”

“That’s practically unheard of,” Shoko comments, turning to you, “a lot of the curses we exorcise have already hurt innocent bystanders.”

You nod your head, though the action feels forced. You hadn’t hurt anyone…did that make you a bad curse?

< … >

Go away.

GO THE FUCK AWAY.

You step back from the now broken mirror, chest rising and falling in heaving breaths as you glance down at your reddened arms, nail marks dragged against your skin in angry red lines.

Eyes that scream tales of hatred flicker up to your awaiting reflection, the broken glass giving your body a fragmented look that only adds to your disgust of the stitches that hold you together.

You were the same as that broken mirror — fragmented and messily put back together by hands that weren’t your own.

Your shoulders continue to rise and fall in tune with your heavy intakes of air, hands curled into white-knuckled fists with blood dripping down the crevices of your skin. You bled the same as they did, and yet you were still so drastically different.

“Monster,” you whisper to your reflection, glancing back at it and reeling your arm back, preparing to strike at the broken mirror again.

You are no monster.

You pause, fist hanging limply in midair as you stare at your eyes. Something in you tells you to complete the action, but you don’t.

“Curse.” Shakily, you lift a finger to point at the fragmented reflection that stares back at you.

That’s better.

You glance down at the reddened lines that now adorn your arms, nail marks left behind by angered scratching fueled by the sight of your stitches.

You weren’t like Suguru or Satoru — they were human.

I’m not human.

Now show them what a true curse is.

< … >

"Another Special-Grade? Honestly, can they just not find qualified sorcerers to deal with these things?" Satoru complains loudly, his eyes momentarily falling shut as Shoko slips his darkened sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.

Suguru bites back the laugh that bubbles at the back of his throat, his gaze flickering to watch the dramatics of his best friend – which has now resulted in the snowy-haired male lying flat on the floor of the gymnasium, his arms spread at his sides like a starfish.

"Supposedly, we're the only two that are qualified enough to take on Special-Grades. You know that Satoru," Suguru reminds him, kneeling down on the floor and sitting cross-legged beside Satoru, who blows a puff of air from his parted lips and groans as his bangs fall back over his eyes.

"Bullshit," Satoru mutters, pushing himself up onto his elbows and turning his head just enough to glance at Suguru.

"Come on, we should leave now before Yaga gets upset."

Satoru groans again, standing with Suguru's help and glancing at Shoko – who is currently lighting what the males believe to be her fourth cigarette of the day, though neither of them comment on it.

"Can one of you check on (Y/N) before you go? Haven't seen her," Shoko mutters, struggling momentarily with her lighter. The moment that the end of her cigarette is lit, she takes a deep inhale, then releasing the small cloud of smoke in front of her and waving it away quickly.

Suguru's eyebrows pinch together, "What are you talking about?"

Shoko pauses, she hadn't told either of them about the state that she had found you in that day; surrounded by meaningless textbooks and looking at the pictures as if they had resonated with you on a spiritual level.

"Just," Shoko pauses, already lifting her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, pinching it, "check on her, yeah?"

Satoru opens his mouth to protest, but Suguru is quick to slap the palm of his hand against his friend's parted lips, effectively silencing him.

"Sure thing," Suguru answers with a closed-eye smile, moving his hand from Satoru's mouth at the feeling of the center of his palm being licked.

The walk to your dormitory from the gymnasium isn't very long, or at least, it wouldn't have been as long as it was if Satoru wasn't loudly complaining and dragging his feet. As much as Suguru wants to spin on his heel and tell Satoru to just stop, he restrains himself – focused instead on getting to you and figuring out the source of Shoko's concern.

He rounds the corner to the student dormitories, his eyebrows pinching together as he notices your door open. Satoru pauses as well, resisting the urge that he has to throw out a sarcastic quip.

"(Y/N)?" Suguru calls into the empty room, taking a step over the threshold and peering curiously around your dormitory's interior. The first thing that he notices is the overturned furniture, then the scattered pages of various textbooks, and lastly the broken glass that litters the floor. What the hell happened?

"What the hell happened here?" Satoru asks, looking around and lifting his leg to be sure that he doesn't step on any broken glass. Suguru exhales shakily, already turning on his heel and leaving the room – now he understood all of Shoko's concern.

"Come on, we're finding (Y/N)."

< … >

"No, wait, please!"

You tilt your head, eyes widening momentarily as the man in front of you begins to expand, his eyes bulging from his head as blood spills from his lash line like tears. His hands lift shakily, fingers digging into his hair before his head promptly explodes.

His body tilts backward, falling with a lifeless thud.

See? Isn't it entertaining?

You stare down at the headless corpse, kneeling down and poking at the blood that dribbles down the man's neck. The liquid clings to your skin, the sight bringing a disgusted curl to your lips as you quickly straighten yourself, standing.

You turn on your heel, exiting the alleyway that you had cornered the man in, wandering down the busy street and listening to the buzz of the pedestrians that surround you. You turn your head this way and that, simply taking in the simplicity of the lives that humans lead.

As you continue to walk down the street, you find yourself smiling at the fact that nobody pays you any mind – not that they had the ability to. You were unseen for as long as you wished to be unseen, creeping up on whoever you wished with the same stealth as a prowling cat.

You should get that one next.

You lift your head to look ahead, eyes landing on a young girl wandering the streets, her eyes bright and glittering as she skips along. Her arms are wound tightly around a stuffed animal, just like the other young girl that had been unable to see you on that mission with Suguru.

A smirk curls the corner of your lips upwards, eyes crinkling at the corners as you slowly begin to stalk your way towards the young girl. She continues walking, her little pigtails swaying with each step of her feet. You reach a hand out, the tips of your fingers just barely grazing the back of her head.

"(Y/N)."

You pause, eyes wide as you lift your head to stare ahead. The young girl turns, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she stares right through you, her eyes focused instead on the raven-haired male that stands behind you.

Suguru pauses, watching you with a tilt to his head that simply asks, "What are you doing?" His body language otherwise is relaxed, showing you that he was of no threat to you. He didn't want you to think that he was going to hurt you.

You don't turn to face Suguru, instead reaching a hand out and laying your palm flat against the top of the girl's head. She gives no reaction, her eyes still focused on the male who had called her by the wrong name.

Suguru watches through horrified eyes as the girl promptly expands, her voice catching in her throat. Her parted lips only release a high-pitched squeak before the upper half of her body explodes.

Her blood spatters against the pavement in front of her, the lower half of her body tilting backward before it falls to the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.

The passerby that walk down the street pause, and it only takes one person screaming to send the surrounding pedestrians into a state of unbridled panic.

Suguru watches, his eyes wide as those around him scramble for safety, not knowing what was going on or who had been the cause of the carnage that lay in the middle of the sidewalk. His body stands as stiff as a board, eyes flickering momentarily down to the girl who lays in the sidewalk.

“(Y/N),” he begins, taking a brave step towards you and reaching for your wrist. Your eyes flicker down to his outstretched fingers, quickly avoiding him and turning around to blankly glare at him.

It was a look that he had never seen on your face before, hatred swirling in your eyes and a disgusted scowl curling the corner of your lip upward. You glared at him as if he were the scum of the Earth — devoid of all of the warmth that you once held for him.

“What? Are you going to exorcise me too?” you inquire with a tilt of your head, hair falling over your shoulders as you turn completely to face him.

Suguru furrows his eyebrows together, staring at you as if you had somehow sprouted another head. Exorcise you? How would he even be able to do that?

He doesn’t know what you are, remind him.

Your lips peel back in an angered growl as you turn your head to catch a glance at the young girl lying on the sidewalk. Her blood had already somewhat dried up, now caked on top of the sandy brown tiles of the pavement.

“I did what the other curses do,” you murmur, eyes flickering down to your now bloodied hands. This very time yesterday you would have scrunched your nose in disgust and tried to scrub every last droplet of blood from your palms.

But now?

Now you looked down at the blood like it was your own personal golden trophy — a reminder of what you had become and the persona that you had adopted. If you were considered a curse, then you were going to show everyone a true curse…even Suguru.

“Does that mean that now you’re going to exorcise me?”

Suguru pauses, swallowing the growing lump in his throat and glancing at you with an expression that is an odd mixture of confusion and concern.

“(Y/N), what are you talking about? You aren’t a curse,” Suguru says, his sentence momentarily broken by a breathy chuckle. You grit your teeth, shaking your head at him.

He doesn’t understand…make him understand.

“Only you, ‘Toru, and Sho’ can see me,” you point out, “nobody else can.”

“That’s not true. Yaga and—“ his voice trails off. You nod knowingly, smirking as the realization finally dawns on the male standing in front of you.

“And no one else,” you finish for him, taking a step towards him. Then you take another, and another, and suddenly your shoulder is brushing against his as you move to walk past him. “You don’t find that odd?”

Suguru turns quickly, already wanting to reach out for you and knock some kind of sense into you. But you’re much swifter than he is, and you dodge the hand that reaches out for you.

“But you aren’t like the other curses.”

You smirk, gesturing with only your eyes down to the girl that lays dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Is that not what other curses do?” you jab a thumb over your shoulder, reminding Suguru of what lies behind you. “Is that not why you exorcise them?”

Suguru pauses, once again swallowing the lump in his throat and forcing his gaze to focus on you — trying to forget what lies just over your shoulder. He didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t accept it, but you were making it abundantly clear that you held not an ounce of remorse.

You were a curse. And he was a Sorcerer.

What the fuck does he do now?

< … >

Suguru Geto —> Satoru Gojo

You need to get down to ******. Something’s REALLY wrong with (Y/N).

Satoru Gojo --> Suguru Geto

What do you mean?

Suguru Geto --> Satoru Gojo

Just get down here.

Satoru Gojo --> Suguru Geto

Alright, I'm on my way.

"Suguru! What's going on?" Satoru waves his hand in the air as he slows to a stop at Suguru's side, peering curiously at his best friend through the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Suguru stands quickly, not bothering to answer before he's sweeping past Satoru and leading him in the direction that you had walked off in.

Curiously, Satoru follows, falling quickly into step with Suguru as both sorcerers walk down the pedestrian-filled sidewalk. The former doesn't fail to notice the way that Suguru's eyes dart around the various shops and scan the various faces that happen to pass by. The only question that he had was; why?

"Are you – uh – gonna tell me what's going on?" Satoru finally breaks the silence between himself and Suguru after they had been walking for a good five minutes in nothing but an awkward, tense silence.

Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, voice heavy when he finds it, "Just...something's wrong with (Y/N)."

"Yeah," Satoru replies with a roll of his eyes, "I gathered that much."

"No, I mean really wrong. She isn't human Satoru," Suguru says gravely, already feeling himself shudder at the realization that you were nothing like what he had originally believed. But after you told him that nobody beside himself and the others at Jujutsu Tech could see you, everything quickly fell into place.

"What do you mean she isn't human?" Satoru echoes, tilting his head curiously as Suguru stops at the entrance point of a darkened alleyway. Brown eyes stare quietly down the length of the alleyway, focusing on something before Suguru takes a brave step forward with Satoru following close behind.

"I mean that she's a curse," Suguru says finally, turning his head to glance at Satoru.

The snowy-haired male pauses, standing as still as stone at the entrance of the alleyway. His jaw is slack, but he's quick to snap it back into place. "A curse?"

Suguru doesn't answer, not that he really needs to. But Satoru wants him to, he wants an explanation – a play-by-play of just how it came out that you weren't human. If you were really a curse, how come his Six Eyes had never told him that? What about you made them falter?

Or maybe...maybe they hadn't faltered. Had Satoru ignored his Six Eyes when they told him that you weren't human when he first met you?

"Let's just find her and get her back to Jujutsu High before anything happens," Suguru says as firmly as he can, though Satoru doesn't fail to notice the slight waver to his best friend's voice. He had cared about you from the moment that his eyes fell on you, tucking you underneath his wing and shielding you from the uglier parts of the Jujutsu world.

And yet, here he was, still protecting you even when you were the one thing that he had sworn to protect other people from.

That was the difference between Satoru and Suguru. Suguru would protect you even if you were digging a knife into his chest. He would protect you even if it meant turning the entire world against him. Satoru wouldn't.

If he found you before Suguru, he would exorcise you on the spot – with absolutely no remorse.

Because at the end of the day, if you were a curse, then you were no better than every other curse that he had seen. You were a danger, a hazard, a posing threat to all non-Jujutsu Sorcerers. It didn't matter what connection he had to you or what relationship he had with you; you were to be exorcised.

"Why don't we just exorcise her?" Satoru suggests, indifference seeping into his tone. Suguru turns quickly, looking at Satoru as if he had just been stabbed.

"Are you serious? Satoru, we can't just--"

"She's a curse Suguru. It'll be the exact same as any other mission that we've gone on," Satoru points out, ignoring Suguru's pointed glare as the pair wanders further into the alleyway. "She can't be that strong, you've never trained her with the use of Cursed Energy."

Suguru remains silent, looking around the nooks and crannies of the alleyway as if you would be hiding in any of them. Satoru follows closely behind, though he doesn't put as much effort into finding you.

"Don't rope her into the same group as those other curses," Suguru says, turning and sending Satoru a warning glare, "she's nothing like them."

From somewhere deep in the alleyway, both of the males hear a drawn out "aww".

Suguru turns, eyes widening as he tries to locate where the sound had come from. He knew that voice, he knew that voice, of course he knew that voice.

Satoru pauses, the arms that were once crossed over his chest unfolding as he follows Suguru's gaze, also trying to locate where the sound had come from. A whisper in his ear tells him to look upward, and so he does.

There, sitting in the darkness, is you. Your legs dangle over the fire escape of the accompanying apartment building, arm lifting in a friendly wave as you gaze down at both Suguru and Satoru – both of whom remain silent at the sight of you.

"Did you both come here to exorcise me?" Your voice is as sickly sweet as it always had been, though this time it's tinged with a second emotion, one that neither male is able to correctly put their finger on. Was it malice? Or was it a twisted sense of joy over being found?

"No (Y/N). We came here to help you--"

"No you didn't!" you're quick to cut him off, standing from your place on the fire exit and smiling widely. "I just heard you both. I may be a curse, but I'm not completely dense."

Neither of them answer you, but you can see that they desperately want to. You wonder if they pause because they don't know what to say or if what they want to say would only fuel your already burning anger.

"(Y/N)--"

"How will you do it?"

Suguru pauses, staring up at you. He swallows – he knows what you're referring to. You're wondering if he'll absorb you just like he would any other curse, or if he would exorcise you in a more traditional matter. You wonder if your off-colored blood would stain his hands and if he would stare at it the same way that you had stared at the young girl's blood on your own hands.

Satoru looks down at his feet, ignoring the uncomfortable tingle in his bones as his nails dig into the palms of his hands. He grits his teeth, willing himself to remain silent even though he so desperately wants to bite out an angered comment to you. He wants to yell at you for deceiving him, for making him believe that you were human – that you could be trusted.

And oddly enough, he doesn't. His urge to remain silent wins, and so stay silent is exactly what he does.

"(Y/N), I'm not going to exorcise you," Suguru says reassuringly, trying his best to coax you down from your place above him. You tilt your head at him, eyes sparkling as you silently will him to continue. Maybe his argument would be good enough, but it would most likely be the exact opposite.

"Yes you are," you bite back, tone bitter and dead. Suddenly you aren't as sweet as you were before, replaced instead by a persona that neither Suguru nor Satoru had seen before. Whatever curse you were, you had discovered it, and you were embracing it in a tight hug that nobody would be able to pry you from.

That's right, remind them.

"I'm just wondering how you're going to do it."

Suguru shakes his head again, his voice catching in his throat. He knows that he's going to have to exorcise you, not even because of protocol but because of the safety of every non-Jujutsu Sorcerer. Though he doesn't want to believe it, anyone could see as plain as day, you were dangerous.

You had killed a young girl without so much as a blink of your eye. Her blood on your hands meant nothing to you, you had glanced down at your stained palms with a glint of interest instead of disgust. You looked down at her body like it was nothing but a squashed ant on the ground.

Who was to say that you wouldn't kill again with that same lack of remorse?

"I'm not going to exorcise you," Suguru says again. You tilt your head, you know that he doesn't sound sincere, but at the same time he does. "I...can't exorcise you."

You smile, eyes folding at the corners as smile lines indent your forehead. You stand from your place atop the fire escape, though you make no notion to make your way down to where both sorcerers stand. It's tempting, you could fight them and prove your strength; but it would most likely end with you being exorcised anyway.

They were Special-Grade sorcerers after all, and you had no idea what grade level you fell into. All you knew was that you had the ability to make people disappear...or rather...make portions of them disappear into bloody heaps.

"Suguru," Satoru says warningly, already readying his body for a flurry of attacks. If he had to fight you, he wouldn't hold back. To him, you were nothing but a curse, but this time, he knew your name.

"Wait."

Satoru pauses, watching as Suguru takes a brave step towards the fire escape, looking up its ladder to maintain eye contact with you. You peer curiously down at him, trusting him.

His heart thuds in his ears as you slowly descend the ladder, pausing just a few steps above Suguru and glancing down your nose at him. Your hands hold the metal steps of the ladder, fingers curled tightly around the rusted metal as you remain silent, keeping Suguru's gaze.

"You haven't answered me," you say quietly, your voice bordering on a whisper, "how are you going to exorcise me?"

Suguru shakes his head again, blinking away the tears that cling to his waterline – a result of him keeping his eyes open for a prolonged period of time. He knows that he has to, but he doesn't want to.

Was this the sacrifice of a Jujutsu Sorcerer?

He's still going to exorcise you.

You watch through widened eyes as Suguru's hand lays flat against your chest, fingers bunching up the front of your shirt and tugging you forward roughly. Before you're able to react, everything goes dark. Your vision closes it on itself, the last thing you see being Suguru's tear-filled eyes staring back at you, a desperate "I'm sorry" caught in his throat – never to be uttered.

Satoru lifts his head at the sudden silence that falls over the alleyway, eyes widening as he notices the ball curled between Suguru's fingers. You're no longer standing on the ladder of the fire escape.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

"Suguru," Satoru begins, taking a hesitant step towards Suguru. The raven-haired male only shakes his head, glancing down at the ball in his hand before he hesitantly opens his jaw. He wonders if maybe it wouldn't taste like a wet rag, but he knows that it will. All curses do.

< … >

"Hey, there you are," Shoko says with a smile, shifting her cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other as she walks to Suguru's side, hoisting herself up to sit on the windowsill in front of him. He turns to her, returning her softened smile with one of his own.

"Sorry, was I keeping you waiting?"

Shoko shakes her head, pinching her cigarette between her fingers and blowing out a small cloud of smoke. She turns her head to glance out of the window, squinting at the sunlight that filters in through the glass panes. "No, I figured you wouldn’t be keen on hanging out with everyone just yet."

Suguru hums, taking the cigarette that Shoko offers him, its end still burning with that orange hue that he had always found beautiful. He takes it between his lips, inhaling and ignoring the burn that the smoke in his lungs gives off.

"Just don't shut us out for good, yeah?" Shoko glances at Suguru, eyebrows raising. He chuckles at her, smoke pouring from his parted lips as he returns the cigarette to her fingers. "She was just as important to us as she was to you."

Suguru sighs, through his nose, turning his head to glance out of the window. On one of the branches of a nearby tree, a crow rests comfortably, its head tilted to absorb the evening sun, soaking it in. It shakes off its feathers, then turning to look through the window, eyes locking with those of Suguru's.

He stares back at it, blinking once before he returns to reality, half-listening to the story that Shoko had been telling him.

"Listen to me for a minute," Shoko says, reaching a hand out and comfortingly squeezing Suguru's knee. He gazes quietly at her, wondering what it is that she wanted to say. "(Y/N) meant a lot to all of us. But you did the right thing in exorcising her. Who knows what she would've done if we just let her walk around freely?"

"Was it my fault that she turned out the way that she did?"

Shoko shakes her head quickly, throwing her cigarette down onto the floor and turning her foot to extinguish it with her toe. Her lips turn upward in another soft smile, this one reassuring.

"If anything, it was the textbook's fault that she turned out the way that she did," Shoko says, her voice a mixture of serious and teasing.

She notices the way that Suguru's expression doesn't change. His eyebrows are still pinched together in a way that displays his guilt – his regret over not being able to help you. His eyes are hollow, sullen. His irises speak a thousand words even though his lips utter nothing.

She notices the way that his hands subconsciously clench into white-knuckled fists at the mere mention of your name. He had cared so much about you, in his eyes you could do no wrong. But to then have you become what you had...she couldn't imagine the pain that Suguru felt in his chest when she whispered your name.

"Geto," she says, smiling as his head snaps to force his gaze on her, "it was never your fault that (Y/N) became what she did."

The hand that rests on his knee pats it once, twice, three times. Just enough to comfort Suguru enough for him to momentarily forget about the guilt he felt over absorbing you.

"We can remember her for what she was before...everything. There's nothing wrong with that."

Suguru nods, smiling at the memory of your warmth and joy. How pure it was, how it radiated off of you as if you were the embodiment of the sun. In his memory, you weren't a bloodthirsty curse...

...you were always going to be (Y/N).

311 notes · View notes

hamlets-ak · 1 year ago

Text

seaside sanctuary ༊*·˚

synopsis: during your vocation on a greek island, you and timothée spend some time on a secluded beach

The magic of Milos had settled over you gently and clingingly with its volcanic rock formations and golden shores. Not even two weeks had passed since the day you and Timothée arrived on the island, and you had already become one with the locals; traveling in all its cryptic passages and discovering the heart of the town.

You had found happiness in simple and frugal things like walking along pebbled pathways and marble streets with your boyfriend’s palm inside yours, fingers conjoined and tangled, quick pecks on the cheek and forehead, small glances and furtive smiles, soft laughs, warm or cold hugs, his head balancing tiredly on your shoulder and yours burying on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

It was Timothée’s idea to invite your families since you had only a month at your disposal before returning back to work and it was an opportunity to spend some time with them. Besides, it was such a beautiful trip, you had to share this unrepeatable experience.

Altogether you traveled with your sailboat around the island and stayed on secluded beaches, accessible only by the sea. Hours and hours had been spent under the sun; swimming, snorkeling, laying on the deck, enjoying the sunset at anchor.

Blazing afternoon sunrays penetrated your skin and blinded your vision, as the briny breeze fanned your face, pulling back strands of salty hair, tangling them with the blowing fair wind.

The Aegen was opening around you; a sapphire-colored sea that touched the line of the sky, extending to a wild yet quiet horizon. It was summer and the world was in a splendor.

Your arms were leaning on the silver railings of the boat and your gaze was up in the bright blue veil, watching the seagulls fly high and dive at the water, then rising up again, squawking loudly to each other.

A burst of familiar boisterous laughter led your eyes to the back at the cockpit. You couldn’t help but smile before even allowing your stare to pierce that dirty glass, only at the sound of his voice. Your head slowly fell to the side and stayed balanced on top of your shoulder.

Timothée’s radiant smile made you unconsciously laugh a little. And he must've noticed because even through the thick glass and the heavy blanket of water and salt covering it, he stared back at you with an electrifying glint and grinned widely as he bent down to knock at the glass a few times and then waved at you.

« Let’s go! », he told you.

You pushed yourself off the railings. Hushed murmurs accompanied by melodious giggles forced you to change your gaze from scenic islets and coves to a small group of people. Barefoot and sun-dazed, their hearts still left in the old pirates’ hideout, Kleftiko, your parents and Pauline, were laying relaxed on the boat. Their swimsuits were on, bodies still wet from their previous dive, drying under shining sunrays. Green beer bottles with the word ‘Mythos’ written on their lebels were reflecting golden beams of light, as cigarettes burnt in the air alongside sprinkles of brine and rust.

« Pauline? », you called her name. She sat better at her elbows and raised her eyes that were covered with black shades. « You’re coming? »

« Nah, » she replied throwing her head back. « I’m tired. I’ll just stay here and take a nap. Have fun though. » You nodded at her words and moved slowly and steadily to the back, hands holding tightly the ropes of the boat.

« Hey, » Timothée grinned at you.

« Hi, » you greeted him and the Captain. « Where are we right now? »

« We are at Sykia, » Timothée replied. He wrapped his arm around you, letting it fall loose on your shoulder as he held you.

« Yeah that’s right, » the Captain spoke with his heavy Greek voice that held a melodious tone only people from Cyclades had. « Once you pass that tunnel, you’ll end up in the cave, » he pointed in the direction you were already looking at. Timothée nodded in understandment, arms snaking in your lower spine, bringing you closer to his body. « And when you get inside, you'll notice that a part of the roof of the cave is missing. It was submerged years ago and now there is a kind of natural skylight. »

« Oh that’s cool, » you said turning to the scenery while Timothée’s nose was mindlessly circling your cheek and temple, tracing soft lines over your brow. Sun kissed your faces and drifted at the space between, giving away a sheen.

« It is cool, » the Captain continued. « I mean, what are you even doing in Milos if you haven’t visited Sykia? » You both lightly laughed at his words as you took Timothée’s hand in yours and pressed a pair of soft lips on top of it before he lightly patted your cheek with his hand making you grin, melting at his warm touch, and hug him tight.

You had anchored close to the cave, less than half of a nautical mile. Waves were luring the boat along with them giving it a soft waft.

Timothée waited for you to approach the edge of the boat before jumping off the stern into a calm steady sea with a thunderous splash that sprinkled you from head to toe, and then paddled the water. Quickly he emerged, throwing his head back and pulling pieces of hair that were stuck on his forehead, out of his face. With cold water stinging your skin, you lightly stepped back gasping.

« Come in! », Timothée laughed and motioned his head to you.

« It’s cold! », you slouched your shoulders, arms wrapped around your stomach. You glanced back regretting your decision of not staying with Pauline to take a nap as well.

« Come in! », he said in a more demanding tone. You bit your lips and shook your head. « I’m going to splash you. »

“No, you wouldn’t.”

« You sure about that? », he asked tossing a small wave of water in your direction.

« Timothée, it’s cold! »

« I’ll splash you. » You looked at him for a few seconds. « I’ll do it. »

« Fine, » you groaned making him smile, and without much thought jumped into the sea.

A freezing feeling struck then gradually consumed your body. Nothing but the sea was surrounding you and you kicked your feet through bitter water, gasping for air. You fought for a moment breathlessly to come to the surface and then looked at Timothée who was already a bit ahead of you.

« Wait, wait, wait! », you shouted at him. He stopped and turned around to look at you, as you paddled along the blue to be closer to him. Timothée couldn’t help but laugh, watching you all puffed, your legs weightless kicking an uncharted abyss below.

Together you glided the blue, reaching the tunnel Captain told you about. Your head moved up too distracted from watching the brown-greenish rocks above your head. Tim pulled your hand and pressed a wet kiss on your cheek.

« Let’s go, » he said, his voice echoing loud all around as if coming from speakers.

The cave had no roof just like the Captain described it. Sun rays were lighting the inside of the cave, creating amazing colorations that enchanted you. It was a unique miracle every visitor should see.

On the inside was a small pebbled beach, with rocks and crystal clear waters. There was no one there. Just the two of you.

Like true children of the sun, you swam in the idyllic calm and then ran to the pebbled shore, free, repeating the gestures of athletes of Delos.

« Aren’t you afraid it’s going to fall and crush us down? », you told him as your hands cupped in the air the part of the cave that was still up. Your bodies were close to each other, so close you could hear the smile forming on his lips.

« It’s been like that for so many years, why does it have to fall now that we are here? », he asked. You rolled your eyes and chuckled.

« I’m just saying, » you mumbled. He breathed out heavily which made you turn in question. « What? », you looked at him.

« Oh, nothing, » he laughed a little, pulling back his wet hair. You kept staring at him for a few seconds watching droplets watering the rocks below you.

« I’ve never been happier. » He wore a dreamful smile. « And I wish every day could be like that. »

« Like what? », his eyebrow slightly raised. Your mouth curled up thinking of your response as your gaze turned back to the crystal pure tapestry of the sky.

« Waking up together… making love… having breakfast… going for a walk… swimming… making love again and then having a bath together. » Your words caused a boyish grin to appear on his face and you imitated his expression. « Eating together, listening to music, watching the sunset… you laughing and me laughing because you are laughing… telling you how much I love you… »

« Sounds good to me, » he said and leaned to kiss your shoulder. You pouted your lips and looked down. Timothée frowned and then turned to the side, balancing on his one elbow, to take a better look at you.

« You won’t tell me how much you love me back? », you bit your lips trying not to smile. His face flushed at your mincing manner and how you pronounced the world ‘love’. He looked away.

« Oh, of course, I’ll tell you, » he bent lower his head and you tented your neck to catch his lips, your hand holding back his hair as he moved on top of you, dripping water running on your body. He breathed out hot air on your face making your head fall back trying to get some oxygen inside before returning to him, your heads touching and lips almost stitched together.

« Y/N, » he said voice deep echoing inside you. « I really need you to know this. »

« You don’t have to say anything. »

« No, I have to, » Tim gulped. « You walked by chance into my very messy life and from day to day, I started to breathe better. Before you, without you, I loved nothing. With you, I have accepted more things. I have learned to live. That's probably why I’ve always mixed my love for you with so much gratitude. » Your mouth slightly opened and eyes glanced away. « I mean every word. »

Without warning you kissed him on the lips. He let out a muffled sound from the force with which your mouth touched his.

« I wouldn’t have loved you any less, if you didn’t say anything, » you told him. Your stare was fixed on his plum reddish lips that tasted like salt and apricots and cherries. « But now that you did, all I can do is love you more. »

He smiled. His forehead brushed against yours as he let you lick away his grin and kiss him. First slow, sweet, soft; then harder, fiery, urgent, like a poem of Odysseas Elytis.

It was a true sisyphean work watching the way the lurking glint of your eyes and your wolfish grin dig up his most shameful secrets, without ripping the animal from within and burying himself in your streams of love and delicate words.

The waft’s stroke maneuvered between you, warm like a teenage memory, spreading sprinkles of salt and rust to the air. Bodies entangled in summer thunders, as the gentle splash of water on your toes offered a kind of peace, privacy, and safety that you had both missed.

You flapped and then stayed there in comfortable silence. But as you watched the horizon slowly bleed from the crevice of the tunnel, Timothée couldn't think of the swollen sun, honeycombs, and wasted old summers.

The only thing he had in mind was how much he loved you, how much you loved him - because he knew that - and how much he couldn't wait any longer for you to live together forever.

You laid together, eyes gazing at the moon and the starlit sky, bodies hugging one another.

#hamlets-ak #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet social media au #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfiction

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starlost-mochi-x · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I love everything you’re writing so I wanted to say that 😅. Also (if you can’t and I am not bothering) I was thinking if you could have written something with Felix when the reader gets bullied (it doesn’t have to be physically) because I am kinda experiencing it and…. I wanted comfort? Hahaha it sounds strange but yeah….. thank you so much 😘

hello lovely anon <3 i'm so sorry to hear you're being bullied, i've been there too and it hurts a lot . i hope this helps a little, and my dms are always open if you need someone to talk to ! you are loved !

always forever - lee felix

pairing: lee felix x reader

summary: felix comforts you when he finds out you've been getting bullied

genre: fluff, idol! au, very angsty, reader is bullied, mentions of injury, mentions of blood and scrapes (not descriptive), lots of crying, sad shit overall, hurt to comfort

a/n: if you're being bullied, please reach out . take care of yourself lovelies 🫶

You hurry down the paved pathway, slipping between the throngs of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Mumbling a half-hearted 'sorry' to an older woman who you'd accidentally bumped, you push past the park gates and find yourself wandering the paved path through the grass.

There aren't many people around, since it's a weekday afternoon, and you're glad of it. Your tie blows in the light, summery breeze as you hurry down a widened path, the trees expertly twined together and grown over time to form a giant, leafy archway. The lush, green canopy provides a welcome shelter from the afternoon heat, and you stumble as you pass a patch of dappled sunlight that's filtering through the leaves.

You land with a solid ugh onto the pebbly pavement, the side of your head knocking a little against the ground. You wheeze, the air leaving your lungs in a low, instant huff. It hurts so bad you instantly roll onto your side. There's nothing more you want to do than curl up, lie here, and cry, but the small, sensible voice in your head tells you to stand up and find somewhere to sit.

Groaning, you heave yourself to your feet and collapse onto the nearest bench. The tears fill your eyes then and you heave, doubling over, the impact from hitting the ground, the terrible course of the day, and your general state of dishevel rushing up on you in a dizzying wave of nausea and overwhelm.

You cry.

☆☆☆

Gentle footsteps crunch against the pebbled pavement, and you feel a presence move to sit quietly beside you. Your have your knees tucked up to your chest, your head buried between them, so you have no clue who it is.

A faint scent of vanilla fans over you with the soft breeze and you feel a warm, calloused fingertip gently poke the side of your head.

You sniff. "Go away, Felix."

Felix sighs and leans his head on yours, careful not to put too much pressure on you. One hand moves to place itself on top of yours, the deep, velvety tone of his voice penetrating the walls you've built up around yourself.

"Y/n, lift your head."

"No."

"Please?"

You sigh and lift your head at his pleading request, which feels like it's made of lead, and look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and watery, hot tears spilling down your cheeks like little rivers of flames. Felix sighs softly and puts an arm around your hunched figure, pulling you into him gently. His warmth envelops you and it's the safest you've felt all day.

"What happened?" he says quietly so as not to scare you. "I was walking back from the shop and I saw you dashing the other way crying."

You sniff, your voice cracked and pitched in distress. "They hate me, Felix. I don't know why, it's just every time they see me, I walk away feeling like shit. They hate me and it's making me hate myself, I feel like I don't even matter-"

Felix's eyes widen and his hold on you tightens, secure and stable around your shaking figure. He lets you sob into him, and by the time you lift your head, the juncture of his neck is soaked with tears.

"Y/n," he says softly. "They're just insecure about themselves. They hate themselves so they want to make everyone else feel the same way. Don't let them."

You cry softly. "I feel so worthless, Lix..."

"You're not worthless, Y/n. You're pretty and smart and creative and stunning and the funniest person I know. I'm constantly checking my phone to see if you've texted me, and every time the door to the studio opens, I hope that it's you.

Hyunjin-hyung and Changbin-hyung tease me all the time because I talk about you so much. The boys love you, so, so much. I do too, and I need you to understand that whatever those bullies say, it's not true. You're worth everything, and I'll be here every second to remind you in case you forget."

You drop your head into his shoulder again and he cradles it close, the warmth of his hand easing the throbbing pain in your temples. You emit a weak, watery, muffled thankyou into his now-soaked shirt and he affectionately kisses the crown of your head. Cupping your face, he looks at your face, seemingly searching.

"You're hurt," he carefully brushes a thumb across your cheekbone, a slight sting following. You probably scraped it when you fell earlier. Felix retracts his hand, his thumb stained lightly with blood. You turn your hands over. The heels of your palms are in the same condition.

Felix tuts softly, stroking the inside of each wrist. "Do you wanna come back to the studio with me? Chan, Hyunjin, and Han will most likely still be there, but there's a big first aid kit in the cupboard, and Chan-hyung might be able to help fix you up."

"I don't want to burden-"

"You're not being a burden," Felix cups your face firmly. "You'll never be a burden to me. Just keep fighting and let me help. Let us help. You don't have to keep doing it alone."

You nod, and move to stand up. Your knees protest in the form of a stinging, searing pain, the scrapes disturbed. You wince and flop back onto the bench, groaning. It's replaced by a yelp as Felix hoists you effortlessly into his arms, bridal-style. Your hands lock around his shoulders and he grins.

"Let's go."

Despite the situation, a question nags at your conscience. "Lix, weren't you supposed to be at dance practice at this time? How come you were out."

Felix begins walking, a cheeky smile making its way onto his freckled face. "I snuck out because Hyunjin wouldn't stop nagging me. Besides, I wanted food from that really good ramen restaurant down the street."

You cover your mouth with a scraped hand. "The rest of the boys are never going to let this go once they find out."

Felix winces. "Oh well. I snuck out for a snack and came back with a Y/n, so I don't think they'll mind-"

You squeal and swat his chest. Felix laughs and continues carrying you down the path.

"Felix?"

He responds with a hum, still smiling softly.

"Thankyou for helping me."

Felix chuckles lightly. The arm that's cupping your shoulders squeezes gently, sending heatwaves flooding into your veins.

"Always and forever, okay?"

a/n: my heart hurts

#felix #lee felix #starlost mochi #starlost mochi fics #skz felix #stray kids fluff #felix fluff #felix scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #skz angst #felix angst #lee felix angst

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duskandcobalt · 10 months ago

Text

Under the Weeping Willow

Emboldened by the light of a full moon, Elain lures Azriel out to the garden for a late night rendezvous.

18+ because this is just some classic duskandcobalt smut brought on by the first full moon of the year.

3k words

Read on AO3

ENJOY XX

“Your shadows watch, don’t they?” She went on, granting him the small mercy of not having to say anything just yet. “Feyre said you have eyes on me at all times. I thought you would’ve known.”

“My shadows do watch,” he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But only to ensure your safety. I don’t have them report on… private matters.”

Azriel groaned, brushing his unruly hair from his eyes as he sat up in bed and scanned his almost pitch black room with bleary eyes.

He had tried to ignore the soft sound the first couple of times but after hearing that hollow tapping noise against his window for the fifth time, he’d given in to the impulse to investigate.

He swung his long legs out from under the covers, adjusting the waist of the cotton pants he’d worn to sleep as he padded over to the window and gingerly moved aside the heavy curtains just an inch so he could peer out of the small window that overlooked the garden of the Townhouse.

The full moon hung high in the sky, casting silvery light over the cobblestone pathway that meandered through the flourishing garden towards the giant willow tree that sat at the very back of the space. He blinked, lazily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to focus on what looked to be a figure standing by the wrought iron table that was situated in perfect view of his window.

She almost looked like an apparition, a trick of the moonlight, standing so perfectly still as she peered up at his window. Her feet were bare, her thick hair loose, falling in soft waves down her back. She wore a simple nightgown that did nothing to hide the soft curves of her breasts and thighs with the way the moon illuminated her from behind. Her small hand was curled into a tight fist at her side, holding tight to what appeared to be an assortment of small rocks.

Azriel watched, pulling back the drapes fully, as Elain plucked another pebble out of her hand, raising her arm to toss it at his window again. She stopped short, the pebble tumbling from her fingers and onto the cobblestones, when her eyes caught his and she realised that she’d succeeded in getting his attention.

He was sure he was still asleep, that this was one of the dreams that plagued him recently. One of those fantasies that he’d kept all to himself, ashamed of the way his skin prickled with heat at the mere thought of her. There was no other explanation, no other plausible reason for Elain Archeron to be standing in the garden in the dark of night, wearing little to nothing, and throwing rocks at his window.

Still, he found himself slipping on a shirt and silently making his way downstairs after she’d crooked a single finger, brazenly beckoning him to come to her with the slightest hint of a smile on her face.

“Hello.” The sweet rasp of her whispered greeting caused goosebumps to rise on Azriel’s arms and the back of his neck despite the balmy summer night. The sheerness of her gown was even more obvious in such close proximity and Azriel fought to keep his eyes on her face, not daring to look any lower than the delicate collarbones that peaked out from the top of her ivory dress.

“It’s very late.” Azriel said, gazing into those big brown eyes framed with long, dark lashes.

“Come with me,” was the only reply she offered before she turned and carefully began making her way through the garden.

He couldn’t help it, then. Couldn’t stop his eyes from falling to the small of her back. To the swell of her hips and the generous curves of her backside and thighs. He had a feeling she knew exactly how much of her body was on display. That she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Azriel willed himself to follow her, still not entirely sure that this wasn’t all an elaborate dream brought on by the full moon.

Elain paused in front of the weeping willow at the very back of the garden, one hand outstretched towards him. He took a breath to steady himself as he took her small hand in his and allowed her to pull him under the thick canopy of leaves that hung all the way to the ground.

There was a large blanket there, draped over the patch of grass in between the gnarled roots of the tree that protruded from the ground. He stood, unsure what to do with himself as Elain lowered herself to the floor until she was flat on her back, her arms relaxed at her sides.

At least here, under this tree - the light of the moon diffused by the heavy dangling branches - he was granted a reprieve from the sinful outline of her body that had been so visible to him just a moment ago.

“Lay down.” She looked up at him, her teeth grazing her lower lip.

Azriel complied, slowly laying down on the blanket next to her, close enough that the tips of his fingers brushed against hers. He turned his head to face her but Elain’s eyes were closed, her face tilted upwards.

The dim blue light from the two siphons he’d quickly strapped to his hands before coming out to meet her casted her alabaster skin in a sapphire glow that made her look enticing and almost dangerous in a way that made his blood rush to between his legs.

“What are we doing?” He asked after the silence got to be too much, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

“I hear you at night, sometimes.” She whispered, eyes still closed. “I hear the way you say my name.”

Azriel went still. The only movement he allowed was a slight bob of his throat as he swallowed in an attempt to quell his nerves. There was no chance she meant what he thought she meant. There was no way that she knew about the things he did, the way he thought about her in the darkest hours of the night.

Before he had the chance to ask, to seek confirmation, she spoke again.

“Do you ever hear me?”

“Elain -” Azriel croaked, unsure as to what he could even say to her.

“My shadows do watch,” he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But only to ensure your safety. I don’t have them report on… private matters.”

Azriel cleared his throat, his fingers digging into his thigh as he fought back the images that her words had brought to mind. Images of her sprawled out in bed, that torturous nightgown gathered up around her waist. “They know when to look away.”

“A shame.” She huffed a laugh and Azriel’s breath hitched as she turned her face towards him, her eyes falling upon him. “All this time… I’ve been putting on such a show for you.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, his heart beating so fast against his chest that he genuinely thought he might perish at any given second. Immortality be damned.

“Do you want to know what I think about, Azriel?” The playful lilt of her voice told him that she was enjoying this.

He should’ve said no. Should’ve attempted to preserve the little bit of sanity that remained intact whenever he found himself in her presence. But his resolve crumbled at the glint of amusement in her eyes and he decided that he’d deal with whatever consequences awaited him whenever this dream faded and reality set back in.

“Tell me.” He dipped his chin once, granting her the permission to ruin him.

“You see,” she began, the soft silk of her voice wrapped itself around him and held him captive. “I’ve been reading a lot lately as a distraction from all the….” She raised a hand, waving it around in the air as her lips momentarily turned down into a frown.

Azriel knew what she meant by the action. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that the visions that plagued her had a tendency to be foreboding and menacing more often than not. He was fully aware that she often roamed around at night, quietly tiptoeing through the hallways and out to the garden, avoiding sleep for fear of being held ransom by one of those haunting visions.

He had found her a time or two, his shadows leading him to wherever she was. He’d feign that he needed a glass of water or a cup of tea, knowing that she’d take it upon herself to offer her help in the kitchen. He’d talk to her as the kettle boiled, exchanging quiet conversation just so he could make sure she was alright - excusing himself back to bed only when her shoulders relaxed and her eyes cleared.

“The problem is,” Elain shook her head, her eyes focusing on him once again. “When I lay in bed and imagine all those things I’ve been reading about, there’s only one face that comes to mind.”

Her little finger grazed his and Azriel’s skin grew taut over his bones at that small touch, at her words. She lifted his hand in hers, raising it up in between them. He held it there, allowing her to trace over his scars. His chest ached at the gentleness of her touch as she followed the swirling path of raised tissue that covered his hands and wrists with her index finger.

“It’s these beautiful hands that I think about when I touch myself.” She set his hand down and reached out towards him, her fingertips just barely sweeping over his lower lip. “It’s this mouth that I picture making me come.”

Her fingers left his lips. She dragged her hand down his throat and across his chest, stopping where his heart beat rapidly for her. “I always hoped that the shadows would tell you that I was calling for you. Always wished that you’d come into my room and help me.”

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and taking her wrist in his hand. He had to touch her. Needed to touch her. Azriel tugged her towards him, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist, bringing her with him as he sat upright.

She looked down at him from where she straddled him now, surprise written in her eyes at how quickly he’d taken control of the situation.

Azriel allowed himself to drag his palms down from her waist to her thighs and then back up again to her hips where he held tight and pulled her down until her eyes fluttered shut and the smallest sigh left her lips at the feeling of him hard against her center. “Let me help you now.”

He urged her hips forwards again, holding back a groan of his own as she tentatively rocked against him.

It would be so easy to ease her nightgown up and over her body, to allow himself the pleasure of sliding his fingers in between her thighs to gather the wetness he could feel quickly dampening the cotton of his pants onto the tips of his fingers. But he’d be patient, he’d wait to touch her how he wanted. He’d wait to taste her. He needed her like this first.

“Tell me.” He echoed his earlier words. “Tell me all the things you think about.” Azriel watched her carefully, utterly enthralled at the way her head tipped back, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to focus on his request.

“I picture you telling me to get on my knees,” she began, her words punctuated by another press of her hips towards his. “I picture you telling me to open my mouth.”

Gods.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders and his fingers tightened on her hips.

How many times had he wrapped a fist around his cock, imagining her lips wrapped around him? How many times had he considered what the heat of her mouth would feel like as she hollowed her cheeks and took him down her throat?

“I picture buying one of those outfits from that shop in town that I’ve never dared to enter.” She continued, voice raw and trembling with need. “Something delicate and lacy… or maybe you prefer silk? Satin? I think about wearing those things and waiting for you in your room or in your office... sometimes you slowly take them off of me, sometimes you like to leave them on.”

Azriel’s cock throbbed at the mental image and he gave in to the temptation to rut up into her, leaning forward to press his lips to the hollow of her throat.

He loved females any which way but he’d always held a special appreciation for lingerie. He liked having an additional layer to undo. Liked the straps and the bows, the lace and the silk. He thought of it almost like jewelry, pretty adornments for an otherwise naked body. Most of all, he liked the confidence that those flimsy wisps of fabric seemed to bring.

The thought of Elain dressed like that was a fantasy he’d never allowed himself but now that she’d brought it up, he’d never be able to get it out of his mind.

“My favourite…” She gasped as he lightly dragged his lips over that little peak of her collar bone. “Is when you bend me over your desk and…”

Her words were cut off by another frantic gasp and Elain tensed in his arms. His face was pressed between her breasts as she leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. She slid her slickened core over him over and over again, her pace quickening until she was a writhing mess above him - unable to utter anything except a long string of curses he’d never thought he’d hear her say, let alone form a coherent sentence.

“That’s it, Elain.” Azriel coaxed her, allowing his hands to travel behind her until they were dangerously low on her back, angling her in a way that he knew would provide pressure exactly where she needed it most. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

Azriel relished in the subtle tremble of her body as she slumped against him, the smooth rhythm of her hips faltering as she found her pleasure. He felt the curve of her lips as they turned up into a satiated smile against his throat, heard the way she moaned his name in rapid succession.

For all the times he'd imagined what this would be like, nothing would ever come close to the reality of her. Each sound Elain made was music to his ears. The feel of her skin was forever ingrained in his fingertips, the soft feel of her plush hips was something he'd never be able to shake from his hands.

“Good.” Azriel whispered, unable to keep his own satisfaction at finally having her like this from slipping into his tone. “Good girl. I’ve got you, Angel.”

He soothed his palms over her back, drawing small circles over the fabric of her nightgown, now damp with sweat, until she caught her breath and peeled back, untangling herself from him.

Elain eased off Azriel’s lap, kneeling on the blanket beside him and gazing up at him with wide, hazy eyes as if she couldn’t believe what they’d done despite having lured him from the comfort of his bed for this very purpose.

Azriel stared back at her, maneuvering onto his knees to match her.He watched as her gaze dipped down, her teeth tugging at her full bottom lip at the realisation that he was still hard and aching for her.

She reached for him but Azriel took her wrist in his hand once again, redirecting it to his shoulder.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, gently tucking her hair behind her ears before lowering his face to hers until his lips hovered over hers.

“Yes.” She breathed without even an ounce of hesitation. Her body keened even closer to his - every inch of her torso pressed tight against him. It took everything in him not to succumb to that touch. To let her slide her hands below the waistband of his pants. To lay her back down on this blanket and sink deep inside her. To let her envelop him completely until he forgot everything but her name.

Instead, his fingers flexed around her hip and he held her firmly in place, maintaining that miniscule gap between their lips.

“Patience, Elain.” He grinned at the disappointment that flickered across her face and shifted the hand that rested on her neck to tilt her face just how he wanted. “Have you any idea? All the things I have planned for you?”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, relenting and ghosting his lips over hers once, twice, before he finally kissed her.

He kept it soft and slow, his mouth sliding over hers in a way that left her utterly breathless.

He could scent the fresh wave of her desire. That sweetest scent of jasmine and honey edged with a musk that he swore called just to him. He knew that every nerve in her body was begging for him just as every part of him was screaming at him to indulge in her. But Azriel held firm, took his fill by way of this singular kiss and allowed his lips and tongue and his roaming hands to deliver the unspoken promise that this night was only the beginning for them. That he intended to take his time acquanting himself with her in all the ways he’d dreamed now that she’d offered the truth of the intensity of her own wants and needs to him.

He’d do everything he could to bring each and every one of their fantasies to life.

By the time Elain brought herself to open her eyes after Azriel had pulled away from that shattering kiss with a whispered instruction to go back to bed and one final kiss to her temple, the Shadowsinger had disappeared back through the low hanging branches of the willow tree.

She was left kneeling alone in the dappled moonlight - the blue light of his siphons a distant memory as she bought a shaking fingertip to her lips to press at the swollenness and feel the lingering heat - the only tangible evidence that she hadn’t imagined any of what had just happened with only the full moon as their witness.

Later, when she gathered the energy to raise up on shaky limbs and find her way back to her room, she caught two shadows emerging from the willow tree where they’d been hiding - lingering and trailing behind her as she walked through the garden and back into the townhouse, only skittering away to the upstairs hallway and back to their master once she was safely inside, her bedroom door firmly shut behind her.

#elriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfiction #elriel smut #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #my writing #acotar #I have once again stayed up until the early hours of the morning to write #is the townhouse big enough to house a weeping willow? probably not but just roll with it okay #there is zero plot to this lmao

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sycamorelibrary754 · 7 months ago

Text

Guardian Angel

Chapter 10: MacGyver

Summary: Wanda and Monica hurry to Rome to save the team from San Castillo's catacombs while you anxiously wait for news about Wanda and your newfound family.

Warnings: Mentions of injury, asthma, anxiety

Word Count: 8k

A/N: The latest chapter of Guardian Angel is the longest yet. Thanks to everyone who's reading! I'm excited about where the story is headed, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Guardian Angel Masterlist

Tony slowly opened his eyes, but all he could see was darkness. The faceplate of his Iron Man helmet slid open, and he heard the dripping sound of condensation. The only indication that he was still alive.

Steve stirred next, feeling the damp air and touching the hard stone floor. He started crawling on all fours and ripped off his oxygen mask, coughing as small pebbles from the drop scraped against his skin.

“Buck, come on. There you go.” Steve tapped his friend's cheek as he started to come around. “Wow,” Barnes gasped as he looked back up at the height of the drop.

Yelena crawled towards Natasha, her face and arms stained with dirt and blood. Despite the pain in her wrist, she began moving the small pile of rubble that had buried her older sister's lower body.

“Are you okay, sestra?” Her voice was muffled under the oxygen mask, but she managed to ask.

Nat slowly sat up and let out a hiss as the pain in her right leg began to hit her. Looking down, she noticed a gash spanning the length of her lower leg, visible through her suit. Although the cut wasn't deep, it was enough to cause her discomfort.

All around them, there was an eerie silence that sent shivers down their spines. The darkness was so thick they could barely see anything beyond a few feet.

Carol quickly sprang into action, helping Peter and Kate to their feet, while Sam and Clint sputtered and coughed as they crawled out from behind a chunk of stone slab covered in a cracked fresco painting that had fallen along with them. The sound of the debris crashing against each other had been deafening, and it had taken them a few moments to get their bearings.

Thor was the last to appear, tossing rubble and rocks aside like Legos. His strength and determination were evident as he worked to clear the wreckage.

“Is everyone alright?” Steve asked the team.

A smattering of grunts and mumbles floated out of the team in response. Everyone was nursing a modicum of injuries, but somehow, all were alive.

"FRIDAY, can you give me an IR scan of the space?" Tony's voice echoed through the underground catacombs.

FRIDAY's response was unexpected. "This is not part of the previously mapped subterranean pathway, boss."

Tony's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean? Are there any air currents?"

"This catacomb is not accessible to the general public. Therefore, no air currents were constructed at this depth," FRIDAY replied.

Steve had a sudden realization, "How much oxygen is left in the masks?"

"Undeterminable, Captain,” FRIDAY said.

Panic set in as the realization hit them - they were running out of oxygen. "Maria, can you hear me?" Nat urgently called out through her comms, hoping for a response. But all she got was static. "Is comms working for anyone?" she asked, looking around for a glimmer of hope, but no one could get through.

Not waiting for further instruction, Carol swiftly flew up the shaft. The team could hear the distant sound of energy blasts as scattered debris and water droplets fell from above. She returned shortly after, displaying an air of calm anxiety similar to Natasha's.

"We fell at least one hundred feet," Carol reported, removing her oxygen mask. "The top of the shaft narrows, and the passage is blocked by rubble from the fall."

Thor looked around in frustration, "This is ridiculous," he lamented. "I'm getting us the hell out of here," he declared as he started to spin Mjölnir.

But Bruce quickly stopped him. "No, don't you remember what Friday said before the fall?" he said, grabbing Thor's forearm. A core reactor holds the tunnel together. We have no idea what is behind the energy surges. Introducing thunder into the mix could collapse the entire catacomb."

Thor's face contorted in exasperation, "So what do we do now?" he asked, the tension rising.

*^~^*

“How far out are we?" Wanda inquired.

The low and gentle hum emanating from the Quinjet reverberated through the atmosphere as it soared through the endless expanse of the bright blue sky.

"Just a few minutes. Their trackers are still active, but I can't say how long they'll stay online," Monica replied, glancing down at the GPS display.

Wanda wasn't sure what to say. This was the first time she and Monica had been alone together since the events in Westview. Despite the hug they had shared on the loading dock, Wanda wasn't sure where they stood. However, she couldn't bear to dwell on what they might find when they arrived in Rome. She needed a distraction.

"So... how have you been since, well, since..." Wanda began.

"Since you trapped Westview, New Jersey in an idyllic suburban illusion of your grief and turned me into a photon," Monica finished for her, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda buried her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed. "In a manner of speaking, yes," she mumbled.

"I've been okay. After the Hex was dismantled, Fury sent for me. I was recruited into S.A.B.E.R. I've been shuttling back and forth between Earth and the space station for the last year," Monica explained.

Wanda nodded in understanding, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions as she absorbed Monica's words. After a moment, she turned to face her. "Listen, I-"

"You don't need to say anything, Wanda. You already apologized, and I meant what I said that day. I understood how you felt, and given the circumstances and your powers, I would have tried to bring my mom back, too," Monica said, her voice filled with empathy.

Wanda nodded in recognition and gratitude, feeling a weight lifted off her shoulders.

"Now, I have a question for you," Monica said. "What's the deal with you and Y/N?"

"Our meeting was pure luck, and now... now I can't imagine my life without Y/N. Losing Vis was a turning point in my life. The world around me crumbled, leaving me and my boys vulnerable and exposed. But I had to be strong and protect them, even if it meant building a fortress around my heart. But Y/N, she shattered the fortress the moment our eyes met. It's weird; sometimes it feels like Vision sent Y/N to me, you know? Like she's my guardian angel."

"That's amazing, Wanda. I'm so happy for you,” Monica declared.

"Approaching target landing zone. Cloaking technology initiated," FRIDAY announced.

*^~^*

Darcy seemed to have an unmatched familiarity with the Overwatch system—she navigated through it with precision and ease, almost as if she had designed and constructed it. You couldn't help but notice how meticulously she calibrated her equipment, making every adjustment with utmost care and attention to detail.

“What kind of data were you seeing before the fall?” Darcy asked.

“Mostly thermostats,” Maria said. “A core reactor holds together the stabilization of the tunnel structure.”

At this point, they could have been speaking a foreign language. You were having difficulty washing off the shock of the last few hours. You were also worried about Wanda putting herself in danger to rescue everyone.

“Why were they all on this mission, anyway?” Darcy continued. “Jack Sparrow doesn't usually push all his Poker chips into the middle of the table for surveillance.”

Maria pulled up the mission file on the screen, "In the city of Rome, there are more than sixty catacombs composed of miles of underground tunnels in which thousands of tombs are found. Currently, only 5 of them are open to the public. For the last month, we have received some unusual readings from the Catacombs of San Callisto. It spans five floors and more than 12 miles in length,” Maria continued. “Despite our best intelligence, we were unsure about what we were walking into because it wasn't publicly accessible. Fury wanted us to be prepared for any contingency."

Darcy caught sight of your zoned-out expression. “Hey, Y/N, you okay over there?”

“Yeah, I just,” you trailed off. “I mean, I make candy for a living. The most dangerous thing I encounter in my day is Harper forgetting to turn off the stove,” you said, starting to get worked up.”

“Y/N,” Maria said, seeing your anxiety rising.

“I just watched the Avengers fall to God knows where, and my girlfriend just left to try and rescue them with her magical powers…. What the hell is my life?”

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay,” Maria repeated as she and Darcy approached you.

“How can you possibly know that? This is fucking terrifying!” You shouted. “What if we never see any of them again?”

As you were spiraling into a state of panic, Darcy's hand came down hard and made contact with your cheek, jolting you back into the present moment.

“You were spiraling,” Darcy said, patting you on the back with a smile. “All good now.”

Y/N," Maria said as she placed her hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eyes while you rubbed your cheek. "Everything will be alright. Their trackers are still sending signals, and I just received an update on everyone's vital signs. They're in distress, but they're still stable. Wanda and Monica will find them.”

After a deep breath, you said, "I'm sorry, Maria. I don't know how you guys do this every day,” wiping your hand across your face. “With Natasha down there, I don't know how you're holding it together."

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Nat doesn’t give up. If anything, this entire ordeal has pissed her off, and she’s even more of a fighter when she’s angry,” Maria said.

You glanced at your watch. "Shoot,” you sighed. It's almost 3 p.m. I have to go pick up Billy and Tommy from school. Please call me as soon as you know anything.”

*^~^*

As you arrived at the boys' school, a sense of nervousness washed over you. You had only met Billy and Tommy once before, and you weren't quite sure what to say to them. You remembered Wanda’s request not to go into detail about the reason for her unplanned departure, so you were hesitant about how to approach the conversation.

Within just a few minutes of your arrival, the sixth-grade class began to come out of the building. It didn't take long for you to spot the twins, carrying their backpacks and books, scanning their surroundings for you.

You called out, "Boys, over here!" Billy and Tommy ran towards you.

“Hi, Y/N, how come you’re picking us up today?” Tommy asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, where’s our mom?” Billy added, looking a bit confused.

“Your mom had to go on a last-minute mission with the rest of the team,” you said, trying not to go into too much detail. “So, she asked me to look after you boys until she gets back. Is that okay with you?”

Billy and Tommy looked at each other, seemingly communicating a message without words, and then turned back to you with a nod. You couldn't help but wonder if they had some secret twin language that only they knew. Either way, you were relieved they seemed alright with you taking care of them.

It felt odd stepping foot in Wanda’s home without her. It was your first time there, and the absence of her presence made the atmosphere feel eerie. However, you took a deep breath and tried to shake off the feeling, reminding yourself to focus on Billy and Tommy.

Once settled, you asked, “Okay, so what do you guys usually do first when you get home from school?”

Tommy and Billy stood in the kitchen, looking up at you with hopeful eyes. "Well," Tommy began tentatively, "Mom usually lets us play video games after school."

Billy nodded eagerly, adding, "And then we have ice cream. It's our favorite snack."

You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "I see," you said, playing along with their little routine. "And after video games and ice cream, you'll probably get started on your homework, right?"

At this, Tommy's face fell. "We don't have any homework," he admitted sheepishly.

You chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "Listen, boys," you said, adopting a more earnest tone. I know we don't know each other very well yet, and you're probably thinking this is a free-for-all. But you should know I invented the 'I don't have any homework' line," you said, placing your hand on your chest. "I was a kid once, too, you know."

“It was worth a shot,” Billy said.

Why don't you two bring your homework out here, and I’ll fix us a snack in the meantime?” You suggested.

“Okay,” they said in unison before clambering down the hall.

You shook your head at their cheekiness and set about preparing a snack. You sliced up some crisp apples, added a dollop of creamy peanut butter, and poured some refreshing lemonade.

After spending some time helping the boys with their homework, which turned out to be more challenging than you remembered, you decided to tidy up around the house. As you walked into the living room, your attention was immediately drawn to the family photo on the wall. Vision stood tall and robust, with Wanda's arm around him, while Billy and Tommy grinned from ear to ear. The image was a gentle reminder of her life before you. Rather than jealousy, you felt a deep empathy and sorrow for all the hardships and heartbreaks she had endured.

You couldn't help but wonder if Wanda was okay right now. If they were all okay.

*^~^*

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, a soft glow began to spread across the ancient cobblestones of the Appian Way. The air was still and quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the distant chirping of birds. The surrounding landscape was bathed in a golden light, casting long shadows stretching across the fields and trees. Amidst this stillness, the Quinjet lay concealed in a nearby field. Wanda and Monica walked down the cobblestone path and made their way through the Arch of Dursus, their footsteps echoing in the quietness of the night. The entrance of the San Callisto catacombs suddenly materialized, rising from the ground like an ominous apparition.

The iron gate had been meticulously re-welded shut—Tony’s standard attempt at not drawing suspicion after they entered. Wanda’s hand began to swirl in red.

“I got it,” Monica said, breaking the lock with electrifying blue energy.

The two women donned oxygen masks and walked down the stone stairs into the catacombs, their communications and body cameras crackling to life.

As they descended the steps, their feet moved steadily, one after the other. The count of each step eluded them as they were fully immersed in descending. As they reached the end of the stairs, the first of the tombs revealed itself, emerging from the darkness before them.

Do you feel anything?” Monica asked, “Anyone?”

Wanda shook her head, “Not yet.”

“We’re looking at 90 acres of catacombs to search, ladies,” Maria said over the comms.

“So, you know, it may take a minute,” Darcy added.

*^~^*

Yelena frustratingly turned to Tony, "Can't you fly us out of here? I thought Iron Man could do anything?"

Tony snapped, "Oh gee, I hadn't thought of that blondie. Thank God you finally mentioned it after five hours!"

Natasha intervened, "Take it down a notch, Tony."

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead, "Don't you think if I could have flown us out of here, I would have done it by now? The energy surges compromised the calibration of the thrusters. FRIDAY is down, too.”

Sam nodded in agreement, "Same here. It's a complete multisystem failure."

Suddenly, Kate's voice echoed off the stone, "Help!!"

Peter dropped from the wall onto the floor, webbing still hanging loosely from the rocks. "I couldn't find any other openings."

Bucky added with a hint of sarcasm, "Terrific. Well, Steve, we died once; looks like it's going to stick this time," he lamented, as he pulled a small flask from inside his leather jacket and removed his oxygen mask.

“Bucky, stop,” Steve sighed.

Clint chimed in, "Hey, give me some of that," as he took a swig out of the flask.

The archer passed the flask to Thor, who reluctantly sipped,” Your human alcohol is so weak.”

Natasha stood and hobbled over to Bruce, the cut on her leg now causing her more significant discomfort.

“Do you want me to look at your leg?” Bruce cautiously asked.

“No,” Nat said, ripping off her oxygen mask. “I want you to get your green ass off that rock and go MacGyver something with Stark to get us the fuck out of here!”

“What’s a MacGyver?” Peter asked.

“It's not a what, it's a who,” Kate responded.

“I've never heard of him,” Peter continued.

“MacGyver is amazing!" exclaimed Kate, her excitement bubbling over. "He’s a super resourceful secret agent who uses his vast scientific knowledge to escape dangerous situations. He uses everyday items like matchsticks, paper clips, and rubber bands to complete his missions.”

Nat's voice echoed through the cramped quarters as she shouted, "Knock it off!" The two young Avengers quieted down immediately, their eyes fixed on her.

Steve took a deep breath and scanned the room, his eyes settling on each of his teammates in turn. "Look," he said, getting everyone's attention. "We don't know how long Wanda and Maria will take to find us, but we must assume they're close. That means we need to stay calm and do everything we can to conserve oxygen in this tiny space and our masks. We don't know what will happen next, but we're in this together, and we're going to make it through."

*^~^*

It had been an hour since the boys had gone to bed. Now that you were finally alone with your thoughts, you couldn't hold back the tears. Your mind was consumed with worry and fear, and you had not received any updates from Maria and Darcy. The silence was deafening, and the longer it persisted, the more scared and anxious you became.

You gazed at your phone, considering calling them, but decided against it. Instead, you wiped your eyes and scrolled through your camera roll, looking at pictures of you and Wanda that reminded youof your favorite memories together.

You suddenly felt like someone was watching you. You looked up and saw Billy poking his head around the corner.

"Hey, Billy. You okay?" you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Are you?" the young boy asked in return, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your thoughts are really loud."

It took you a moment to realize what he meant, but then it hit you. Of course, like his mom, Billy could hear other people's thoughts. You wondered how often he had to deal with that and how overwhelming it must be.

"I'm sorry, Billy," you said, trying to keep your thoughts in check. "I didn't mean to be so loud."

"It's okay," he said with a shrug as he joined you on the couch. "I'm used to it.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next. Then, you remembered why you were there in the first place.

"I'm just excited for your mom to come home," you said, trying to inject some positivity into the conversation.

"Same," he said, his face lighting up a little. He scooted closer to you on the couch. It was a small gesture, but it made you feel like maybe you were doing something right.

"You and Tommy love your mom a lot, don't you?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah, she's amazing. She's always there for us," he explained with a smile.

"I can tell," you said, pulling a soft blanket off the back of the couch and placing it over Billy. "She talks about you and Tommy all the time. She's so proud of both of you."

"Really? What does she say?" Billy asked curiously, his eyes widening with interest.

"Well," you began, "she says you're both brilliant, funny, and sweet young men. She admires your sense of humor and your kindness towards others. Tommy is a great athlete, and you like to draw. She thinks you're a very talented artist."

"Mom told you that?" he said, surprised. "I didn't know she talked about us so much."

"Yes, she does. She loves you two very much," you replied, smiling at him warmly.

You followed Billy’s eyes as he stared at the family photograph you admired earlier. "I miss Dad," he said. "Tommy does, too."

"I know you do," you replied. “I’m sorry.”

"We were happy in Westview," Billy said, fidgeting with his hands just like Wanda. "Then, one day, we woke up, and Dad was gone and Mom said we had to go."

"That must have been difficult," you said softly.

"Yeah, at first it was tough," Billy continued, "but then we came here. Mom got Uncle Tony to build us this cool house, and we have a lot of fun.”

You couldn't help but smile as he talked about Wanda. "Your mom is the coolest person I know," you said, and Billy beamed with pride.

"You miss her too, don't you?" he asked, and you felt a pang of longing in your heart.

"You're good, kid," you said with a smirk as you ruffled his hair. "Yes, I miss your mom very much."

“She talks about you too, you know,” Billy mentioned.

Your surprise showed on your face. "Really?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. "She says you make her happy, and you make the best chocolate in the world."

You giggled at the compliment, but then you noticed the time. It was almost 2 a.m. "I think we both could use some shut-eye, Billy. We want to be well-rested when your mom gets home."

"Okay," he agreed, climbing off the couch.

But before he left, you had an idea. "Hey, what do you say you and I and Tommy make brownies tomorrow as a treat for everyone when they get home?"

Billy's eyes lit up. "That would be awesome!"

"I think so, too," you said with a smile. "Okay, now, bedtime. Off you go."

Unexpectedly, the young boy hugged you goodnight, and you felt a warmth in your heart. "Thank you, Y/N. Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight, Billy," you said.

*^~^*

Meanwhile, half a world away, Wanda and Monica ventured through the dark and musty catacombs. The eerie silence was only broken by the echo of their footsteps. They had been walking for hours with no sign of anyone. Suddenly, Maria's voice broke through their comms, sending chills down their spine.

“Our last point of contact was down this secondary tunnel just ahead,” she said.

Wanda's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area. "Watch your step," she warned. "If this is near where they dropped, we're on unstable ground."

As they continued, the walls around them became adorned with ancient symbols and paintings, marking Papal tombs. But their peaceful exploration was abruptly interrupted when Monica came to a sudden halt. "Stop," she said, sensing a change in the electromagnetic spectrum.

Wanda spun around to face her. "What is it?" She asked, her anxiety rising.

Before Monica could answer, the ground began to shake violently, throwing both women to the ground.

As the ceiling crumbled, debris rained down onthe two women. Acting quickly, Wanda summoned her powers to redirect the falling fragments away from them.

“Are you two okay?” Maria asked nervously.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Wanda said as she helped Monica to her feet. “What was that?”

Take a look around," Darcy pointed out. "Do you see those fissures along the walls? Someone is utilizing the catacombs as a natural storage space for geothermal energy. But there is something wrong with the core reactor. It's causing the structure to become destabilized.

Monica's voice trailed off as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "So, in other words, we're..." she hesitated, unsure.

Darcy picked up on Monica's hesitation and completed her thought. "Walking on eggshells. You need to find them, and soon.”

*^~^*

Clint, feeling a tad bit drunk from sipping from Bucky’s flask for the last few hours, began singing to himself, “Nobody knows the troubles I've seen.”

“No, we need to find some physical conductor for the thrusters! We can't use Thor or Danvers down here,” Bruce exasperated.

Clint, not paying attention to the conversation, continued his solo performance, “Nobody knows my sorrows.”

Tony suggested, “We could use Barnes’s arm,” side-eying the super soldier sitting against the wall.

Bruce momentarily thought about it and responded, “That could work. We could use the vibranium and cybernetic implant to hot wire the thrusters”.

“Nobody knows the troubles I've seen,” Clint shamelessly continued.

Bucky, who had been quietly listening, pulled down his oxygen mask so that only his eyes were visible and said, “Come try to take it; I dare you.”

“No one at all!” Clint finally finished singing. Natasha gently coaxed her best friend back into a sitting position beside her and Carol.

Nearby, Yelena, Peter, and Kate sat on the ground. Kate’s head rested in Yelena’s lap, doing her best to clean the cut on the young archer’s forehead.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Kate, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

Yelena had attended to Nat's leg gash and now turned to the cut on Kate's forehead. She took out a disinfectant wipe from her vest pocket and dabbed the wound gently.

“Stop moving, and it won't hurt so much, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said, trying to hold her still.

Suddenly, the sound of Peter wheezing broke the blonde's concentration away from Kate's forehead.

"Woah, are you okay, spider?" Her voice was filled with concern as the boy tore off his oxygen mask.

Peter gasped between every word and said, "I don't know, I can't,” he sputtered. “Catch my breath."

Kate sat up nervously, "Hey, what's happening? Where is your inhaler, Peter?"

Peter's voice strained, and his breaths became shorter as he said, "On the jet."

Bruce took charge of the situation, moving Peter into a sitting position against the wall. He placed an ear to his chest and frowned at the raspy, short breaths.

"Peter, look at me," Bruce said gently as he held the boy's face. "Are you certain that you don't have a rescue inhaler with you?"

He shook his head, his eyes filled with fear as each breath became more labored.

Tony quickly turned to Steve and said, "Help me out of the suit."

Steve was confused and asked, "What?"

"FRIDAY is down. I need you to get it off me, do it!" Tony's voice exclaimed anxiously.

Steve found the central seam of the Iron Man suit and tried to pull the chest plate apart, but it wouldn't budge.

"Buck, Thor, help me!" Steve shouted.

The sound of Peter's shallow breaths was drowned out by the metal bending as Bucky and Thor worked to free Tony from his suit.

"It's going to be okay, Peter. Stay with us," Sam said, as he and Carol did their best to keep him calm.

Peter's vision began to blur as his breathing was reduced to a squeak.

"Shit!" Bruce exclaimed, realizing the gravity of the situation.

Tony quickly stepped out of the broken pieces of his suit just as Peter was about to lose consciousness. He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a rescue inhaler. He shook it several times before removing the cap as Nat lowered Peter’s head into her lap. Tony tilted the puffer slightly, angling it down his throat as he gave two puffs into his mouth.

"Slowly breathe in, kid," Tony instructed. "One, two, three, four, five."

Tony administered two more puffs of the inhaler before Bruce listened to Peter's chest and confirmed his breathing had improved.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter whispered as his lungs began to open up. "Where did you get that inhaler?"

From Aunt Mae. It was one of her conditions for you to join the team. I always have it on me," Tony explained.

"You broke your suit," Peter realized.

"It's an easy fix, kid. You're not," Tony smirked.

Peter continued to use the inhaler as Tony kissed his forehead and walked away, his hands trembling.

Kate and Yelena comforted Peter while Bruce examined him.

"You're okay, Peter," Bruce said. "Continue using the inhaler, and when you feel up to it, put your oxygen mask back on." He picked up Peter’s mask, but his eyes widened with anxiety. The gauge was empty, and the light had turned red.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"The mask is out of oxygen," Bruce whispered.

"I'll give you mine," Carol offered, taking off her mask and giving it to Peter.

"Thanks, Carol," Peter said as he continued to use the inhaler.

Steve pulled Bruce to one side. “Be honest with me, Bruce. How much time do we have left?”

"It's hard to say. With Peter's preexisting medical condition, he may have been using more oxygen than the rest of us. I'll check the other masks, but with so many people in this small space—”

“Bruce,” Steve said solemnly.

“An hour. Maybe,” Banner conceded.

*^~^*

Instantly, an avalanche of disordered thoughts rushed into Wanda's mind, emanating from Peter. The intensity of his anxiety was so profound that Wanda had to cling to the wall of the tunnel to steady herself. Overwhelmed with relief and anguish, she burst into tears. It was as if Peter's distress was contagious, and his emotions threatened to engulf Wanda's consciousness. His mind was a chaotic maze of thoughts, all leading to the same inescapable conclusion: they were all going to die.

Monica's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Wanda, what is it?"

Wanda had to grab the side of the wall for support. "Peter. I can feel him; he's close."

It was as if Peter’s thoughts broke the dam, and one by one, the desperation and fear of her teammates came through. But soon, it was replaced with something else entirely: acceptance. They seemed resigned to their fate, and Wanda couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

“This way,” Wanda said as the two women doubled back.

A dark tunnel forced the two women to duck as they crawled through it. As they forced their way through the ancient passage, they were relieved when it opened into a larger space—rubble scattered everywhere and the feeling of uneven ground underneath their feet.

Maria's voice echoed through the comms, "What do see?"

Monica took a deep breath and replied, "It's much cooler in here." The air around them was refreshing, starkly contrasting the humid air in the rest of the catacomb.

Wanda knelt and placed her hand on the ground, feeling the dampness seeping through her fingers. "The ground is damp, too," she added.

Darcy's ears perked up at their report, and her eyes widened. “This is it! If the water sinks into the ground, it's coming out somewhere.”

Monica took notice of the uneven gravel. “Don’t move,” she said as she phased through the ground, leaving Wanda alone with the team’s thoughts in her head.

*^~^*

Bruce, true to his word, carefully examined all the oxygen in the ten remaining masks. Unfortunately, five more had depleted, leaving the group with only five masks to share. They sat in a circle and passed the masks around, agreeing on five-minute turns, but the adults made sure Yelena, Kate, and Peter had the masks on for a bit longer without saying anything.

As they breathed heavily and coughed occasionally, it became apparent that the air was running out. Suddenly, a low rumbling sound made everyone scramble to the walls. Yelena instinctively reached out for Natasha, who was struggling to stand on what was now most likely an infected cut in her leg.

"Cover your head!" Steve shouted, not sure if it was another energy surge or if the catacombs were finally caving in.

Suddenly, Monica dropped through the stone ceiling and landed on Carol, causing her to grunt in pain. Monica quickly stood up, dusting herself off and helping Carol to her feet.

Kate screamed in relief, "Oh my God, it's Monica!!" and hugged her. Yelena tried to pry Kate off Monica while everyone else watched in surprise.

"You found us," Carol said, hugging her next.

"Actually, Wanda found you,” Monica said as she held Carol. “She heard Peter's thoughts," turning to the young Avenger.

"Thank you for having asthma, you wonderful little arachnid!" Clint said, kissing Peter on the cheek.

"Umm, you're welcome," Peter replied.

"Wanda is here?" Steve asked.

"I knew she could do it," Natasha said under her breath, recalling the day Wanda returned to the compound.

"Wanda," Monica said, pressing her comms closer to her ear. "You were right, they're down here."

"Are they alright?" Wanda asked, her voice a mix of anxiety and relief.

"More or less," Monica responded, looking around at the sweaty, exhausted, and dirt-covered group. "When I give the word, you do your thing."

"Got it," Wanda replied.

"Everyone move away from the center," she instructed.

After ensuring that everyone was safe, she issued the command, "Alright, Wanda. Now.”

The redhead stood still, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Her hands and eyes began to emit a bright red glow, almost like they were on fire. As she closed her eyes, your words echoed in her mind.

“The magic that courses through you is the true measure of who you are, Wanda. Don't let a single mistake define you or your legacy."

She focused her energy and channeled her magic to lift the endless amount of heavy rubble that blocked the narrow shaft. As she lifted the debris, the sound of rocks and debris tumbling down from above echoed through the small space. The team looked up as they saw a faint ray of light piercing through the small opening over a hundred feet above them.

Wanda's heart pounded as she floated down, eager to reunite with her family. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Natasha enveloped her in a warm embrace. "No arm tied behind your back anymore," she whispered, her words full of relief.

Tears filled Wanda's eyes as she nodded, overwhelmed with emotion. Then, Tony stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you, Red," he said, his voice filled with genuine joy.

"Same here, Tony," Wanda replied, a smile spreading across her face.

But their reunion was cut short by Maria's voice crackling over the comms. "You can all exchange pleasantries on the way home; time to rejoin the above-ground dwellers," she said briskly.

Wanda quickly wiped away her tears and, with a wave of her hand, conjured a ladder leading out of the shaft.

After Wanda and Monica checked the stability of the ladder, Bucky, Clint, Sam, Thor, and Carol led the way up. Monica offered her assistance to anyone who needed it.

"Does anyone need a lift?" Monica asked, glancing around at the group.

Tony immediately pointed to Peter, who quickly protested, "What? No, not necessary, Mr. Stark. I'm fine."

However, Tony was quick to dismiss Peter's objections. "Nice try, kid. Your asthma almost killed you. Let the Photon carry you. That's an order," he said, picking up the broken chest plate of his suit and ascending the ladder.

Peter reluctantly acquiesced. "Fine," he grumbled, "but no one tells MJ.”

Monica picked Peter up bridal-style and flew up the shaft, ensuring that he made it to the top safely.

Natasha leaned on Yelena and Kate for support as she hobbled toward the ladder.

"May I offer you a lift?" Wanda asked with a smirk, knowing that Nat would be hesitant to accept help from anyone.

"Do I look like Peter?" Nat replied sarcastically, trying to shrug off the offer.

Wanda's smirk turned into a concerned expression as she noticed the pain she was in. "No, but your leg looks pretty bad, and I have someone on the line who wants to speak with you," she explained, handing Nat her comms earpiece.

Nat begrudgingly grabbed it, knowing precisely who would be on the other end. She put it on and said, "Hi, Maria.”

Maria's voice echoed through the earpiece. "Natalia Alianovna Romanoff! I can see your leg on their body cameras. Let Wanda help you, or I swear to God, you are sleeping on the couch until it heals," she shouted in a stern tone.

Natasha let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that Maria was right. She reluctantly handed her earpiece back to Wanda and nodded in agreement.

"Have a nice conversation, did you?" Wanda teased, noticing the annoyed expression on Natasha's face.

"Shut up, and get me out of here," the Black Widow grumbled.

"Good choice," the redhead said with a smile as she used her magic to lift Natasha out of the shaft. She then turned her attention to Yelena and Kate and gestured for them to follow. "After you."

The last one to leave, Steve smiled broadly at Wanda, his dirt and blood-covered face unable to conceal his immense pride in her.

“Are you going to give me some big hero speech, Cap?” Wanda asked, half-joking.

"Maybe later," Steve replied with a sigh. "But for now, all I want to do is this." He wrapped his arms around Wanda, pulling her close. "Welcome back, Wanda," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Night had descended upon Rome by the time the team finally boarded the Quinjet. Monica took control of the jet and put it on autopilot, allowing her and Wanda to attend to everyone's injuries. The mood was somber as they tended to the team.

"No more underground missions!" Sam declared loudly, wincing in pain as Wanda wrapped his shoulder. "I mean it. If we need to go underground, Fury can send in the incredible shrinking Scott or use Red Wing. I was chasing ghosts down there, and we still don't know what the hell was going on."

Monica tried to reassure him. "You were probably just hallucinating from a lack of oxygen," she said.

Ha! Probably!" Sam responded, his tone skeptical. "See, that's not exactly comforting. Steve, I need you to make sure this is included in the mission report. We can't afford to overlook any potential threats."

Looking around at the team, Steve agreed with Sam. "I think we could all use some rest first though," he suggested. "We can reconvene in the morning and go over everything in more detail.”

*^~^*

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing on the coffee table. You had decided to sleep on the couch after Billy went back to bed, in case either of the boys woke up again. As you picked up the phone and saw Maria's name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat.

Anxious and nervous, you answered the call, "Maria? Have you heard anything?”

Maria's response brought tears to your eyes, "They're all safe. A bit bruised and battered, but alive. ETA is about 2 hours."

Relieved and grateful, you could feel a weight lifted off your chest. "Oh, thank God… and Wanda?"

"She was amazing, Y/N. You would’ve been so proud," Maria's voice was filled with admiration.

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your cheeks. You asked, "So, what happens now?" while looking around the corner to make sure Billy and Tommy were still asleep.

"Well, they'll have a short debrief when they get back and presumably a visit to the med bay. But I know Wanda will want to see you and the boys ASAP," Maria explained.

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you, "Okay," you said while running your hand through your hair and looking at the clock. "We'll be there."

"Good, see you in a bit, Y/N," Maria said.

"Bye, Maria," you replied before hanging up the phone.

As you were putting the couch back together, Billy and Tommy, still in their pajamas, walked into the kitchen. You greeted them with a warm smile and said, "Good morning, boys! I have some good news for you - your mom is on her way home."

Tommy's face lit up with delight as he exclaimed, "Yes!"

Billy looked at you with curiosity and asked, "When will she be here?"

You checked your watch and replied, "In a couple of hours. I was thinking we could all meet her at the compound. What do you think?"

Both boys nodded eagerly, thrilled at the prospect of seeing their mother again.

Then, you added, "Cool! So, I was thinking, would you like to help me make some brownies to bring as a welcome-home treat for everyone? It's a very special recipe from The Candy Bar."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for their response. The boys looked at each other, then back at you, with wide grins on their faces. "Yes, please!" they exclaimed in unison.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you were struck by the state-of-the-art sound system that Tony had built into the house. You paired your phone with it and turned on your “Baking playlist” to set the mood for your baking session. Billy and Tommy sat at the kitchen island, eagerly awaiting their tasks. You laid out all the ingredients for your fudgy chocolate brownies on the sleek granite countertop, admiring how they gleamed under the overhead lights.

“Okay,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Tommy, you mix the dry ingredients, and Billy, you mix the wet ingredients.”

You couldn't help but grin as the boys rolled up their sleeves and got to work, their eyes fixed on the recipe book as they measured each ingredient with utmost care.

While the brownies were baking to perfection, you whipped up a decadent chocolate frosting that would add an extra layer of sweetness to the treat. The smooth, velvety texture of the frosting was the perfect complement to the chewy, chocolatey goodness of the brownies.

Once you finished frosting the brownies and placing them in the refrigerator, you checked the clock and said, "Okay, why don't you guys get showered and dressed? You want to look your best for your mom."

In perfect unison, they responded, "Okay." That's when Tommy suddenly zipped away and returned in a split second, ready to go.

"Whoa! That was fast," you said, impressed.

"I know, right? I have super speed, just like our Uncle Pietro!" Tommy proudly announced.

"Ah, your mom has told me a bit about him," you replied, nodding in understanding.

"Well, that's why I'm so awesome at sports!" Tommy exclaimed with a huge grin.

"Actually, that's not true," Billy interjected. "Mom doesn't want him to use his powers while playing."

"Ugh, don't listen to him. Sometimes I use them when she isn't looking," Tommy said, a mischievous look creeping across his face.

"What?! I'm going to tell Mom!" Billy shouted, looking outraged.

"You will not!" Tommy said, pushing his brother playfully.

"Hey, hey, hey!" You stepped between them, breaking up their squabble. "Billy, you can go get ready, and Tommy, how about you help me pack the brownies?"

"Fine," Billy grumbled.

"Okay," Tommy said with a nod.

*^~^*

As you entered the compound, you were informed that the team had already finished their debriefing and were receiving post-mission examinations and oxygen treatments in the med bay, as per Fury's orders. You and the boys patiently waited outside the medical facility, observing as doctors and nurses went in and out.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally caught a glimpse of Wanda. The sight of her filled you with joy, and you couldn't help but smile. Wanda was scanning the room before her eyes landed on you and the boys. The twins' excitement was palpable as they ran towards Wanda with unbridled enthusiasm.

Wanda hugged Billy and Tommy tightly, kissing the tops of their heads. You hung back, holding the Tupperware full of brownies, not wanting to impose on their family reunion.

“I missed you boys so much!” Wanda said, kneeling to hug them.

“We missed you too,” Tommy replied.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed, “but we had a great time with Y/N. She's so much fun, and we made brownies for everyone, see?” pointing back at you.

Wanda glanced back at you, and her eyes lit up with joy upon seeing you standing there. “Hello, my love. I missed you too," she said, pulling you into a warm embrace, and giving you a soft kiss on the lips, which made you blush.

“You brought everyone home,” you said, repeating the words you spoke to her before she left. “I knew you could do it,” you said, as you both tried to hold back tears in the middle of the med bay.

Lost in the moment, Tony's voice brought you back to reality. "Aww! Look at the lovebirds," he exclaimed. You saw Stark walking towards you, holding Pepper’s and Morgan’s hands. He looked a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, with a limp, butterfly stitches above his eyebrow, and a cut on his cheek.

You hugged all three of them. "Mmmm, what do we have here?" Tony asked. "Very nice! I don't remember you making brownies for me when I came home from a mission,” turning to his wife.

Pepper shot back, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a little busy running your entire company. If you want brownies, make them yourself."

Natasha appeared next, being pushed in a wheelchair by Maria, followed by Yelena and Kate. Natasha's lower right leg was heavily bandaged, "Oh, Nat, are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine," she said, reassuringly smiling as you leaned down to embrace her. "This is all just precautionary."

Maria chimed in, "Right, that’s why Dr. Cho also gave us precautionary antibiotics," doing air quotes, and you couldn't help but laugh at her comment.

"My sister has always been stubborn," Yelena said as she and Kate joined the group. The blonde adjusted the brace on her wrist before hugging you and grabbing two brownies.

"Yeah, you should have seen her down there," Kate added. "It was like the Black Widow on steroids," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around you.

"What was that, Bishop?" Nat asked, giving Kate a suspicious look.

"Nothing," Kate responded nervously. "Would you like a brownie?"

"Mmhm, that's what I thought you said," Nat smirked as she took the brownie.

*^~^*

You joined the team for dinner but retired early to your room, wanting to give the group some space to decompress after a traumatic mission. While resting on your bed, a knock on your door caught your attention, and Wanda poked her head inside.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Were you sleeping?” she asked.

“No, just resting my eyes,” you replied as you sat up with a yawn.

Wanda joined you on the bed, giggling. “Yeah, that's how I usually feel at the end of the day with the boys, too.”

You wrapped your arms around her and kissed her cheek. “The boys were great. It was nice to spend more time with them.”

“They feel the same way, love. To quote them, Y/N is super cool,” Wanda smirked.

“Super cool. I should put that on my business card,” you joked.

“Seriously, Y/N. Thank you. I know two 11-year-old boys are a handful, and I put you in a challenging position, but it means so much to me that I can trust you.”

As soon as the word "trust" was uttered, memories of your parents' dubious actions over the remains of Sokovia and your conversation with Tony flooded your mind. The weight of the past seemed to take its toll on you, and your anxiety was on full display, which the redhead must have picked up on.

Wanda glanced at you with concern etched on her face. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice laced with tenderness and care.

You tried your best to put on a reassuring smile and push the nagging thoughts out of your mind. "I am now that you're home," you replied softly.

Taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @bibliophilicbi @darkstar225

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scribbling-dragon · 2 years ago

Text

with only feathers as your guide

summary:

With a dungeon as vast and as dark as Decked Out, there’s bound to be plenty of rumours circulating on what might lurk within the shadows, simply waiting for an opportunity to reveal itself and prey on the Hermits that dare to venture within.

The newest rumour, and probably the most interesting one Tango’s heard recently, is that there is someone else in the depths of Decked Out, waiting and watching for a moment to reveal themself. The Hermits that have spotted this mysterious figure haven't seen them for very long, either getting distracted by a ravager appearing around the corner, or just because the mysterious person slips away before they can get a better look.

(ao3 link)

(3,100 words)

this was inspired by the Guide Jimmy fanart i saw from @hybbart recently! it was really cool and i was struck with this idea :]

Obviously, those rumours are just that- rumours. Something that has no basis in reality or even fact. Letting creepy-crawlies lurk in the corners of his dungeon would defeat the whole point of it- the only monsters you’ll ever find lurking in Decked Out are meant to be there.

The Hermits that have managed to catch sight of this figure describe a blue light, almost calling them forward, pulling them further into the depths of the Frozen Crypt, through pathways that they didn't even know existed (pathways Tango is pretty sure didn't exist before their mysterious figure led them down the path). And these paths, each time and without fail, would be marked by a trail of feathers.

So, the Guide joins the ranks of rumoured ghosts that haunt the Crypt and Tango moves on with his life.

Some of the redstone in the Crypt got messed up- Tango’s still not sure how it actually happened. Only that things stopped working as they should and the clank spiked on one of their test runs and he almost got impaled. Several times. Which means he gets the irreplaceable pleasure of kneeling on the ice-cold ground (which is made of ice, hence the ice-coldness) and wrangling the redstone wires back into some kind of order.

His shoulder aches, face cold from where it’s pressed into the ground so he can peer into the floor without inhaling a faceful of redstone- he’s done it once, not at all something he recommends. The sneezing and general sightlessness was a solid zero out of ten.

He hisses out a breath, watching it cloud in front of his face before fading a moment later. It really is far too cold in here, even with the thick fur lining of his cloak he finds himself huddling a little further in on himself and wishing that his flames were a little warmer.

The heart thumps in the background, the noise bouncing around his head, rattling between his ears like an overexcited ping-pong ball. It’s easy to put to the back of his mind most of the time, working past the dull thumping that pulses in time to his own heart, but today, in this particular moment, it grates on his nerves easily.

There’s a small skittering sound to his left, not unlike a pebble clattering to the floor, and his ears swivel towards it automatically. It takes his brain a moment to catch up, thoughts still tangled in redstone wires and circuits. It then takes him several more moments to physically untangle himself from the redstone, pulling his arm back carefully in case he further disturbs the wiring and upsets the already delicate system further.

He turns, finding that there was, indeed, a pebble on the floor.

It sits just a few feet away from him, shining a little in the dim lighting. It’s polished, which wouldn't be unusual if he was somewhere near water- somewhere that would have been able to wear stone down into such a small, smooth pebble. But he’s underground, halfway into the Frozen Crypt and nowhere near any large bodies of water. All the water here is frozen solid (Frozen Crypt, duh) meaning there’s no way for any pebble to have gotten in unless he placed it there, which he didn't, or if someone else brought it in.

He’s on the alert immediately, glancing upwards as he slides backwards, away from where he was just sat and preparing for an anvil to come crashing down. He snatches his hands back as he stares upwards, waiting for the slight clunking noise of an anvil as it’s let loose, or even a frustrated grumble as Doc has to reposition how he’s peering down to try and get a better angle on him.

But there’s no structure above him, nothing that might have been built to ensure he was squashed. The ceiling of the Crypt remains unchanged and as frosty as ever. None of the stalactites look as though they're intending on impaling him within the next few moments, either.

Something whistles behind him, the note carrying hauntingly through the still air. It’s clear and sharp, cutting through the dull monotony of the heartbeat. He turns towards the sound, a grin beginning to pull at his lips as he listens carefully. There’s nothing for several long moments, the silence settling thick and heavy over him, only interrupted by the thumping of the heart. But the noise is easy enough to disregard now, pushing it aside in favour of something far more interesting.

He stands, dusting his hands off, stepping towards the pebble. He nudges at it with his foot, watching as it slides a little further across the ice, coming to a slow stop. He picks it up, cupping it carefully in his hand as he steps in the direction that he’s pretty sure the sound came from.

A lesser person might be scared by the sudden appearance of someone that won't show themselves. But Decked Out is Tango’s domain and it fills him with a confidence he doesn't normally feel.

He pauses at the first spot of colour against the blue and grey of the ice and rock around him.

The yellow of the feather sits innocently in the middle of his path, as though it has just been dropped by accident- a feather that had simply slipped from the wings of an avian as they passed through.

He jerks his head up, quick enough to catch sight of a blue flame, quickly disappearing again as his companion disappears around a corner. He breaks into a run, sliding easily around the corners, accustomed to the slide of the ice beneath his feet- leaning into it on occasion to help him go a bit faster.

He pushes off the iron of the trapdoor, ignoring the way the metal sends a chill shooting through him as the pads of his feet come into contact with it, leaping across the small river and landing softly on the other side. The snow there cushions his landing, settling easily after he kicks it up to continue his pursuit.

He can hear the rattling of a chain, the slight sounds of breaths hitching as he follows his guide, noting each feather in his pathway as he follows along. There are no sounds of something crashing into walls on the tighter turns, which is something he’s noticed the other Hermits doing when they're volunteer for a test run; something about the slipperiness of the ice beneath their feet and not enough grip sending them crashing back and forth, flailing as they struggle to regain their balance while fleeing whatever monster’s chasing them.

He slows, just a little, as he realises he’s in a path he doesn't recognise. He stops completely a moment later, ears still pricked for any sound of movement. He shouldn't be somewhere he doesn't recognise- he made the entirety of the Crypt, every pathway is as familiar to him as his own hands. It would be embarrassing for a dungeon master to get lost inside of his own dungeon.

He walks this path with a little more caution, unsure of when, exactly, he passed into a corridor that was not of his own making. The stone of the walls are smooth, carved in the same design as the rest of the Frozen Crypt- whoever made this was intimately familiar with the way he carved the rest of the stone.

Two feathers mark his path forwards when the corridor forks, both of them leading into incomprehensible darkness. He pauses, on the threshold, squinting for any sign of his guide.

A blue flame flickers, and he plunges forward.

The darkness swallows him whole, impossible to see in, even with his night vision. He has to feel along the wall to make sure he doesn't run into it and smash his face open by accident- his face would probably recover, but his pride wouldn't.

His hand brushes over a notch in the rock, and he pauses for a moment, feeling around the small indent in the wall, curious to what it might be for. His fingers close over something rough on the otherwise smooth notch and something clicks above him.

He freezes, prepared for some elaborate trap to spring up around him and for the pranker to reveal themselves with a grin and a laugh.

The darkness parts instead, the bright light of the stables blinding him momentarily. He has to stop and blink the spots from his vision before he steps forward into the light fully.

The ravagers snort at him from within their cages, watching him with their beady little eyes. Tango pulls a face back at them, sticking his tongue out. The ravagers don't react, not that Tango expected them to, and he closes his mouth. Instead, he looks around the stables, curious as to why his guide might have chosen to lead him here rather than deeper into the Crypt.

There’s straw strewn over the floor, padding the cages of the ravagers (though they seem to enjoy tossing it out of their cages and everywhere else rather than actually lay on it), but it’s still easy to spot the feathers, piled in front of one of the ravager cages.

Said ravager is right against the bars, mouth slightly open and posturing in a rather aggressive way. Tango crouches down, keeping close to the floor as he slips closer, towards the golden feathers.

The mysterious guide, one of the favourite topics amongst the Hermits in the last few weeks, has never led one of their charges astray. Sure, they've been led deeper into the Crypt before, but their passage has been safe and largely uneventful. The most trouble Tango had with their mysterious guide was when they disappeared and every single door locked- the clank had spiked dangerously high, too, and it had been a scramble to fix everything and pull Zed out before too much damage could be done.

He’s close enough to the feathers now that his breath causes the pile to flutter slightly, shifting in the spot they're sat in. He hardly dares to breathe, aware of the ravager a mere foot from him, the way their horns and tusks could jab through the bars and catch him, if he let his guard down too far.

He glances up, careful not to meet the ravagers gaze head-on. He likes his insides being insides and he’s rather they stay that way.

His eyes catch on the bars as he raises his eyes, lingering on the scratches around the bases of several bars. He shuffles a little bit closer, hoping and praying that the ravager doesn't decide that it’s bored and attack him anyway.

He runs a finger along one of the bars, pressing down on it carefully, feeling how it bends beneath even that tiny bit of pressure. He rocks back onto his heels, letting out a breath that’s halfway between a sigh and a laugh.

The bars are weakened, on the verge of giving out completely. One ravager being loose would be more than enough for him to shut the entire dungeon for the day just to herd the ravager back to its cage and then fix said cage. An entire day that could be spent troubleshooting and fixing the problems that arise.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, not needing to speak any louder- the guide will hear him all the same. There’s a low scraping sound above him, like claws against metal, and the creak of a chain. Tango snorts at the lack of response, shuffling backwards until he’s outside of the ravager’s reach.

The emergency button, the button that he’d felt quite stupid for installing in the first place (and also worried because Grian likes to visit the stables sometimes, and leaving a button out in the open is just asking for trouble when he likes to hang around nearby), is his saving grace. He pushes it, watching as the metal reinforcements slide down over the doors with a shing. At least now if the ravager decides to enact its jailbreak, it’ll be contained in a small space and easily dealt with.

“You know you don't have to be all spooky and ominous right now, right?” He asks, listening to the way his voice echoes around him. “It’s cute and all, and I love that you're really getting into the role, but you are also allowed to talk.”

“But then it would hardly be any fun, would it?”

Tango turns towards the voice, quick enough this time that he manages to glimpse more than the flickering of a solitary flame. Instead, he gets to see the sweeping of dark material and the flash of yellow feathers as Jimmy sinks a little further into the shadows lingering around the roof.

“What if I wanna see you?” He frowns, spinning in a circle, trying to track Jimmy’s path from the small glimpses he gets and the soft sound of his talons scraping against the metal supports.

“Then I might be able to help you with that,” something thumps to the ground behind him, arms wrapping around him securely before he’s being lifted off his feet. He laughs as Jimmy spins him in a small circle, the slightest rumble of a purr escaping him before he wriggles loose, turning to grab Jimmy before he can disappear again.

“Hi,” he grins up at Jimmy, tugging him a little closer. “You're the talk of the server, you know.”

“Am I?” Jimmy grins down at him as well, looking incredibly cosy in his cloak, the ruff of fur poofed-up around his neck. He looks far warmer than Tango feels right now- he can practically feel the warmth of Jimmy seeping through the sleeves of his coat, his mind demanding that he draw this source of warmth closer and not release him until he’s warm again. “What a surprise.”

“You don't sound very surprised.”

“Why would I be?” One of Jimmy’s wings shifts behind Tango as he speaks, “Isn't the whole point of me to inspire intrigue, get them guessing about who it is that’s lurking around the corner and guiding them to safety.”

“You're not meant to be guiding them to safety,” Tango frowns, but can't quite keep the grin out of his voice as he looks up at Jimmy. “You're meant to be leading them into danger on occasion, showing them that they can trust you be maybe shouldn't.”

“I'm getting to it,” Jimmy promises. “But I think they're more scared about the ghost haunting the Crypt right now. Leading them to their deaths will only spook them more.”

“They think you're Grian with spray-painted wings.”

“Ouch,” Jimmy’s lantern clinks a little, swinging forward from where it’s hanging on his belt. The flame within it has been extinguished, Tango notes, the pinprick of fire no longer on the edge of his consciousness. “I would have hoped they could at least see I'm taller than five-foot nothing.”

“Be glad Grian wasn't here to hear that.”

“I’d say it to his face.”

“Sure you would, dear.” Tango laughs at the face Jimmy pulls, tugging him a little closer. Jimmy radiates warmth like a furnace, and no matter what books he reads he can't seem to find an answer to why he’s so warm all the time.

“Aw, are you cold?” Jimmy’s arms circle around his back, pulling them flush against each other.

“A little,” he admits. “But I can think of one remedy to that.” He grins up at Jimmy, pressing himself even closer than before. He’s forced to stand on the tips of his toes to get even close to Jimmy’s face, tail swishing behind him to keep him balanced.

“Oh, really?” Jimmy’s grin matches his own. “What remedy might that be?”

Tango has always been good at leading by example than trying to explain his thought process, and it’s easy to pull Jimmy down to meet him halfway, arms hooked behind his neck and lips ghosting over Jimmy’s own before he kisses him properly.

It makes something hot ignite in his chest, warming the previously frozen parts of him. He feels Jimmy smile against his lips, breaking the kiss with a breathy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, annoyed as he pulls back, noses brushing from how close they are.

“Marigold’s cage just broke open.”

Jimmy laughs as Tango bolts, scrambling up the support beam and peering down at the canary, watching as he pats the ravager - Marigold, apparently, when did Jimmy have the time to name them - on the head. The ravager seems content to let him do so.

“You can clear that up.” He says, still perched on the beam above Jimmy’s head. Jimmy makes it look far more comfortable than it actually is. “Seeing as you've named them.”

“Aw,” Jimmy croons, a smile spreading across his face. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” He crosses his arms, watching as Jimmy nudges Marigold back into its cage. The ravager goes with only a small protest in the form of nudging at Jimmy gently. That gentle nudge is enough to almost send him sprawling, but Marigold seemed to have meant it with good intent.

The bars are fixed a moment later, Jimmy producing a new set from the depths of his coat.

“And you couldn't have done that yourself?”

“But then how would I get my thanks?” Jimmy smiles up at him, far sweeter and more endearing than Tango wants him to be right now- he scowls, but it’s all for show. Really, Jimmy making friends with his ravagers is probably the most in-character thing for him to do. Even if he refuses to go near the warden.

Tango doesn't have a good enough argument against Jimmy’s argument, slipping down from his perch and back towards Jimmy. He gives him a small peck, leaning back.

“I'm going to tell everyone that you're Grian with spray-painted wings.”

#juno.writes #tango tek #jimmy solidarity #solidaritek #trafficshipping #hermitcraft #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #hermitfic

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