#they died; you realise its planned; then realise they messed up and died anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marshmallowdarling · 2 years

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heyyy uhh

I dont know how many reqs you have so I'll keep it short, dw! but darth vader (actually Vader; most ppl i've seen tag it as darth vader when its not, yk?😅) "reuniting" w/ a gn friend of his, but the reunion is them being captive 😀👍. like maybe the friend was captured bcuz he was hunting for jedis, or they were helping ppl escape and that backfired on them.

you're free to choose how his friend got captured cuz im just throwin ideas. so many scenarios lmao 😆😆😆

I'm finally back!!

So sorry for being away for so long and so sorry for taking so long to get to this request, I stopped writing it half way through the first bit and realised I might have fucked up the request but kept going anyways lol so sorry if it wasn't how you imagined!!

I tried making it a little more yandere at the end but I will 100% write a few head canons or more one shots after about how life would be after this if anyones interested!! :D

Remember my request are still open!!

✧3735 words ✧ Vader x Reader ✧ Sher/Her pronouns

Hope you enjoy bubs!

~Mwah!

(Y/N) never wanted to be a jedi, not really. She wanted to help people of course but did she really want this life?

Her question was answered after her dear friend Anakin died; no, she didn’t want this life.

She wanted a life of her own, to not have to train every day with multiple weapons, to not have to stress about every movement she makes.

She wanted a life where she could sleep in, where she could just breathe and live and do mundane things, where she could make connections and love.

But the force works in mysterious ways and after (Y/N) had grown up, settling down in a small town and having a small shop that she adored as it played into her hobby, she was yanked back into the life she had left behind.

Obi wan had reached out to get her to help the resistance, she was apprehensive at first but after seeing him come back to her shop a bloody mess with her childhood friend Ahsoka, she had reluctantly agreed to help him just to help people escape the empire.

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be any troopers here.” (Y/N) hisses, using the force to yank a metal box towards three troopers and slam them into the wall. She barely misses the blaster shot as she jerks her body behind another crate.

Crouching down to cover herself, she fumbles to get her (borrowed) blaster from her thigh holster before peeking out and taking a few bad shots.

Ahsoka uses the distraction to take down the last two troopers before looking down at (Y/N) and extending her hand. “It wasn’t a part of the plan.” They both grunt as she hauls her friend up.

“When does anything ever go according to plan” (Y/N) grumbles as she dusts herself off.

Ahsoka just chuckles before looking around they alley way they were forced into. “Master Kenobi said the captured Jedi’s are around here, we already made a scene so we should just go without him. If they caught us off guard, we should probably assume he’s not doing well on his end either.”

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“Come on this way.” (Y/N) whispers to an injured Jedi as she helps them walk in the cover of the night. “We’re almost there, just hold on a little bit more.” Her eyes glance at the wound at their side, blood already seeping through the fabric she had ripped from her outfit and used as a makeshift bandage.

Panic shoots up her spine as (Y/N) throws herself and the Jedi to the side just barely missing the swipe of a saber.

Rolling over to push herself up by her arms she doesn’t miss the boot that slams into her stomach, a silent scream creeps up her throat as her mouth widens at the blunt pain.

She had never seen him in the flesh, but anyone could figure out who that black booted foot belongs too.

Darth Vader.

Gritting her teeth in pain she grabs his ankle to haul her body up slightly as her other hand comes and pushes behind his knee to make him drop.

‘GO! GET TO THE OTHERS AND GET THE KRIFF OUT OF HERE!’ She yells to the Jedi using the force as Vader swings his arm and lands a right hook.

(Y/N) says good bye to her life as she focuses everything on just making sure Vader is distracted enough to let the injured Jedi and the rest escape. She sees them start to crawl to the wall to haul their body up in their peripheral, but she just elbows Vader’s chin making his helmet covered face tilt up.

This is the first time she had seen him; she can see a hazy reflection of herself in the black metal of his armour, but she gets flown back and slammed into the ground as he reaches out his hand and uses the force to pin her down.

Her torso gets the brunt of the attack and she flicks her wrist to get a few scattered rocks and stones thrown at him. They don’t do much damage as his armour takes the brunt of it, but it throws him off enough to let her grab her blaster and take a few shots making him release his force.

Two hit his chest head on, his armour taking the shots as he remained unharmed, whilst the others miss pathetically.

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a Jedi.” His voice booms out, modulated from his helmet but still unbelievably deep as he snarls. His arm extends to use the force again, but she takes a few more shots at his arm making him flinch back.

“I am no Jedi.” She spits back, the hood covering her form starts to lift as the wind picks up but it manages to stay on. “You must not be as smart as they say you are if you really can’t see my plan.”

Finally seeing that the Jedi is out of sight, (Y/N) throws all her force at him. Vader gets thrown back a few inches but stays strong to the rest as he swipes his arm out and knocks her off her feet, his raises his arm and moves her around like a rag doll in the air before he slams her down into the ground, keeping her pinned there.

She can barely move her fingers this time, not even a twitch as she sees his figure start to walk towards her. Pressure starts enclosing around her throat, blocking her air supply as she tries to rip her arms away, but they just lay there helplessly. She gasps, gritting her teeth to try and do anything but all she can manage is to kick her feet as the wind finally rips away her hood, instantly slapping her face with the cold chilling air.

Her vision starts to bleed in and out as her head spins from the lack of oxygen, (Y/N) manages to see Vader now looming over her figure and she thinks she sees him recoil back once he finally gets a look at her face.

The invisible hand around her throat and pinning her limbs down let go almost instantly. She flings her body up and immediately gulps down air and coughs, everything hurts and throbs in pain, but she can’t think about anything as her hands come up to cradle her throat as she tries to fight off unconsciousness and steady her breathing.

(Y/N)’s mind finally comes back to her as she cranes her neck up to see Vader just standing there.

“Wh-What?” She manages to croak out as her throat screams in protest, tears she didn’t know were now spilling to coming down her chin.

A weird crackling sound comes out and she thinks it’s his modulated breathing as he just stares.

She wants to fight, to do anything but sit there on the ground pathetically but it takes everything in her just to loll her head up at him, her body feeling like lead as new bruises start to flourish with old ones. It had been days of fighting and running and healing injured Jedi without any rest.

(Y/N) was never the strongest and after years of not training or using any force, she had become weak.

He says something, she thinks it’s a name, her name?

But her eyes finally close as her body falls to the side and her brain drags her to sleep.

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(Y/N) shuffles around a bit on the plush bed to get herself comfortable before her mind starts to darken again, the silk sheets feeling soft and light yet warm.

Wait sheets? Bed?

Throwing her body up, the black sheets pool at her waist as she frantically looks around the room.

It’s a room of some sorts, maybe on a ship? The walls are metal and the room’s big but bare with anything personalised.

She remembers the fight with Vader, thinking she was going to die but he just let her go and then she passed out.

The room spins as her vision finally clears its sleepy haze and the more she tries to focus the more the throbbing pain in her head hurts. Her body is so sore, and it feels like she has to use every piece of strength in her body to try and pick up her arm.

Nausea creeps up her throat and she groans as she curls into herself.

Hearing the door open, she forces her body up right as she watches Vader stride in, there’s no words exchanged as he closes the door and takes a few steps towards the bed.

They both stare at each other, (Y/N) staring into the eyes of his helmet to try and search for his eyes and Vader looking in those familiar (E/C) orbs he used to search comfort in.

Slowly, he starts to lift his helmet off and (Y/N) goes to stop him but it dies in her throat when she sees his face.

“Anakin?” Her voice is so soft he barely misses it, he wants to correct her and say that Anakin is dead but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out.

(Y/N) doesn’t know what to do, she wants to swear at him, she wants to jump and scream and hug him so tight but…

“You’re…. You’re not Anakin.” She says slowly.

She can see the hurt flash in his eyes before he looks away and puts his helmet back on. They both return to silence before (Y/N) speaks again.

“What do you want from me? Why am I here? Why didn’t you just…” She trails off, her head pounding harder as she thinks about her childhood best friend ending her life.

“Just what? Kill you?” His voice comes out sharp, but the ugly sound of his modulator crackling tells her his voice strained.

(Y/N) pushes herself up by her arm to sit properly as he watches her through his visor. “You fought with Master Obi-Won and fought to kill. Why didn’t you do that to me once you saw who I was?”

“That’s different” Vader’s voice comes out uncharacteristically high, but he calms himself before continuing. “You are in my bedroom and you will be here until I say so. I’ll go get you some medicine and food.”

His black cape flows as he turns around to leave but (Y/N) leans forward to try and make him stay.

“Wait! Anakin-”

“It’s Vader now!” He snaps cutting her off. “And don’t think of leaving this room, your injured and I have the door locked with guards stationed outside. Just sit down and do nothing, like you have done for years.”

The last few words digs a knife into her heart but she doesn’t even have the time to properly react before he’s out of the room with the sound of the door sliding closed.

(Y/N) stares blankly at the door as her head falls back to softly thunk against the bed post.

Had her Anakin really turned into this? Into the monster that is Darth Vader?

A few tears escape her eyes that she’s too exhausted to wipe away. “Oh Anakin, what did they do to you?”

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Like he had said, Vader came back into the room a few minutes later with a bowl of some sort of bone broth, a cup of water and some bacta patches.

He straightens out the sheets at her lap before placing the tray down before giving her a once over and disappearing into what (Y/N) thinks is a connected refresher.

Picking up the spoon, she swirls the bone broth a bit before taking a small tentative sip. It hits her tongue, and she has to stop herself from humming. Days on the run with limited bad tasting food made this simple broth taste divine on her tongue, but as soon as she swallows, she feels her stomach churn.

(Y/N) drops the spoon back into the bowl, it makes a small splash that barely misses her clothes but she ignores it to sling one arm over her stomach.

Hearing Vader return, she doesn’t have it in her to look up at him as she closes her eyes.

“You need to eat.” It’s a command, his voice having no trace of the man it used to belong to.

“Why am I here.” Her voice is so soft that even Vader’s helmet almost misses it, but he doesn’t, and he doesn’t know how to respond.

He hesitates before taking a few tentative steps closer to the bed. “Why didn’t you become a Jedi?”

Opening her eyes to watch him, her eyes flash to show her Anakin, the one who was always curled into himself in the middle of the nights when he was caught up in the darkness of his mind.

“Because it wasn’t the life for me.” She manages to say softly. “I wanted to love, to feel without any consequences. I wanted to help people, but I knew I wasn’t cut out to help people how Jedi’s do.”

“Then why did you come back?” He takes off his helmet again, placing it at the foot of the bed before slowly getting on his knees.

The scene must look comical to any outsider, the feared Darth Vader on his knees for some random girl.

(Y/N) has to physically restrain herself from reaching her hand out by hugging herself and tucks her hands in her pits.

“This time I could help people properly. People were getting hurt and I could help them, why wouldn’t I?”

She was always doing that, wasn’t she? Always helping people even if it meant she had to do things she didn’t want to.

Vader wants to shake her shoulders, to shout at her that everyone’s selfish and just using her. To call her selfish for making him stay as a Jedi before leaving it all behind. But most of all, he wants to collapse in her arms and tell her everything, all the pain he endured and everything he had to do that he wouldn’t even think about telling anyone else.

He doesn’t even realise he’s deep in thought before he sees her moving to place his helmet back on, now half sitting on the edge of the bed near him.

“Va- Anakin.” She corrects herself before whispering whilst keeping her touch as delicate as possible. “I can see that you’re struggling to breathe.”

When his helmet finally does lock in place, Vader takes a few deep breaths. He had pressurised his room obviously, but he had to keep it just under his comfortable levels to make sure it didn’t affect (Y/N).

The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them. “What happened?” They come out soft, but he can feel the hurt behind them and it makes his blood boil.

“How could you possibly ask that?” His modulator now booms his voice. “You saw how they were, they were the reason for her death and you even left!”

The mention of Padmè squeezes (Y/N)’s heart but she just furrows her brows.

“So all of that just justifies you killing millions of innocent people?” Her voice raises as well but he crosses his large arms across his chest plate.

“You don’t understand-”

“No, you don’t understand Anakin!” She cuts him off, now standing on wobbly legs. “You’re hurting people, people like me who just want to live!”

Standing in-front of him now, yelling at him without listening, reminds Vader of Obi-wan and he snaps.

“I AM VADER! ANAKIN IS DEAD!” His voice rattles the room and shocks (Y/N) to drop back down on the bed. “People like you? Don’t make me laugh.” A cackle gets cut off by his modulator, but it’s filled with coldness. “Your selfish, sitting around while people get hurt. You only care when they start to bother your own little world. Where were you when Padmè died? Where were you when I was getting hurt? You just want to help people to fill that pathetic hole in your chest, so don’t you dare think you can talk to me about any of this.” He sneers before turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him, leaving (Y/N) sitting their heart broken.

Looking down at her (S/C) palms, her body shakes with her sobs.

Anakin really is dead.

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A few days pass, maybe a week?

(Y/N) doesn’t kriffin know but she does know is that her body has finally recovered mostly, some wounds still need a few more days but there’s no risk of tearing anything open and she finally doesn’t feel nauseous and dizzy anymore.

Happy with her new found health, now the dreaded thoughts of what will happen to her finally sink in as her mind isn’t fogged up with pain.

Vader made it out like he hated her, he despised her life and even though she hadn’t seen him since that day, a storm trooper always came in with food and things she would need for the day.

It made no sense and she’s tired.

She left this life because she couldn’t handle it and now, she’s forcefully thrusted back in only to be caught up in more stuff?

(Y/N) never wanted this.

Standing from the chair, she walks over to the sliding door that was always locked and started banging. Like always, the storm troopers stationed there at every hour and rotating depending on shifts, called back asking what she needed.

“I want to talk to Vader, now.” Her snappy voice makes them hesitate, they had strict rules to keep her in the room and not to talk more than necessary and there were no rules to state that she couldn’t ask for the black armoured man himself, but they had seen how angry he had barged out of the room.

Finally giving into the demands, they look at each other before calling out they would send someone to fetch him and in a few minutes Vader himself was walking through the halls.

All troopers and anyone in the vicinity tense up and looks away but he ignores them before slamming the hatch open and locking it behind him.

“What do you gain from keeping me here Vader? What do you want from me? This is the last time I’m asking this and if you don’t answer me, I will do everything in my power to leave.” (Y/N) usual voice is devoid of any fun or sarcasm or tenderness as she gets straight to the point, not letting him even acknowledge her.

Taking a few steps towards from the wall, he leaves decent space between them both but still enough to keep a comfortable conversation.

“Do you really not know why you are here?” His modulated voice still startles the female but the anger in her veins smooth over that.

Crossing her arms, she leans onto her front leg. “How could I? You seem to hate my existence, yet you ordered for me to be taken cared of, but I’m not allowed to leave. You won’t even answer my questions.” Her arms come up and wave to emphasize her point but Vader just stares. He had forgotten how her little habits actually looked, he could never forget but the years apart had fogged up his imagery of the memories.

Finally feeling as if there is no other way to express himself, he just simply states. “I love you, that’s why you are staying here.”

(Y/N)’s mind reels so hard that she stumbles back, her ass landing right on the chair she had left untucked.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) feels like she’s dreaming because this couldn’t be real. “You- You can’t! You said it yourself, I’m selfish and horrible and you called me pathetic! You loved Padmé! How could you love me?” Tears start pouring down her face, but she doesn’t even realise as she looks through his armour and straight into his heart, trying to search for the Anakin she knew and, admittedly, loved, but she can’t find him and all she can see is a stranger.

Vader winces at her tears, it feels like someone is physically ripping his heart out when he sees her cry, but he just takes a deep breath before striding over and crouching.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, but I didn’t realise until Padmé died that the love I felt for you and her are different.” His gloved hand comes up to wipe away a tear, a little rougher than he had wanted but he had never touched someone as delicately as he was touching her now.

Hiccups and whimpers leave her throat as sobs wrack (Y/N) body before she abruptly stands up and shakes her head. “This- This ca-can’t be happening.” Her voice cracks slightly but Vader just stands up aswell and grabs her arm gently to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“This is real, the faster you accept that the faster you can acclimate to your new home.” Again, Vader is a bit harsher than he had wanted but he had never thought about anyone’s emotions other than his own for years.

Ripping his arm off her, (Y/N) growls. “This isn’t my home, this will never be my home. You took me away from my home.”

She moves to run to the door but she gets yanked back by her waist and gets thrown onto the bed, the plush surface doesn’t do any damage but the fast movement disorientates (Y/N) enough to let him pin her legs down with his own and restrain her wrists with one of his own.

“It doesn’t matter if you tell yourself this isn’t your home because now it is.” The hiss that escapes his throat crackles horribly from his modulator, but he just presses her wrists down harder to make sure her (e/c) orbs focus on him. “You’re staying here weather you like it or not, so it’s best if you start faking it or the only person who’s going to be affected by your struggling is yourself.”

Her hiccups and tears return as she started into the damned black visor, Anakin had really died and left behind this love sick monster hu?

Closing her eyes tightly to block out everything out as her legs stop trying to twist away, the last though in her mind rings out before she finally stops struggling.

‘I’m sorry Anakin.’

#tw yandere #soft!yandere #soft yandere #chubby reader #darling core #Yandere vader #yandere Darth vader #yandere anakin skywalker #yandere #ask #cw yandere #soft yandere Darth vader #dark!anakin

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asoulofatlantis · 2 years

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Guys! The time has finally come! The moment we have all been waiting for! THE Final Fantasy X scene. That moment that every shipper knows. We have finally reached the famous underwater Kiss-scene ♥ (What a way to end 2022!)

I always found it fascinating how her reaction was. She said she wasn’t sad about the stuff he said and yet, she looked happy when she found out he knew. Probably because she was glad she wasn’t the one who had to tell him or watch him let the realisation sink in. I mean, imagine Yuna being there, when Tidus had his little breakdown, that would have been painful to her. This way, he had time to come to terms with it before facing her and she knows now that she can go on with him by her side, without having to keep secrets from him anymore.

I think in that very moment, were she was sad and frustrated about everything that went wrong on her journey so far,, she really wanted to give in to that thought of having a normal life. Not having a dead-sentence hanging over her head. Not being on a rush to reach Zanarkand, even tho the journey is long and hard and she missed out on things like watching the moonflow glow at night, but just enjoy her life instead.

She had always been planning to become a summoner and save the world from Sin... so she never had the luxury to imagine what a “normal life” for her would look like or what she would wish for it would be like. You know, all those silly dreams girls her age have, of a romantic marriage with your first love and living in a house with a bunch of kids and stuff... Yuna never was supposed to have a future and imagining one if you know you can’t have it, especially when you are sacrificing your life, would be cruel to oneself... maybe even hinder her. But now, for that fleeting moment, she finally gave in to imagine what it would be like.

Look how simple the life is she imagined. Going with Tidus to his Zarkand so she can cheer him on in a blitzball game and just watch a pretty sunset together. It seems to be nothing special, but for her, its more then she ever could have hoped for - and not just because it is just not THAT easy to reach Tidus Zanarkand, but more so because she doesn’t have the luxury of the time to party at Tidus place and watch a pretty sunset just for the sake of watching it. Its a beautiful imagine of an ordinary life with Tidus, but...

...in the end it was just a fleeting dream of a future that Yuna would love to have, but can’t have because she can just not give up her pilgrimage. She can’t be that selfish. She always just wanted to bring Spira that little time of peace and happiness. Even with Yevon turning its back on her, she still can’t leave the people of Spira hanging. She is not the type of person who runs to Zanarkand and has fun, while the people in Spira are living in fear. She wants to. She wants it so badly right now. That is why she is crying. But that is just not the person she is... and I guess in the end Tidus saw that coming.

It might not be able to stand against FF7R but I still think that to this day, 20 years later, this games CGI-Scenes were amazingly pretty.

A good lovestory is something Final Fantasy often lacks these days. Heck, thinking back at the other Final Fantasy games, older and newer I can not remember EVERY having such a beautiful lovestory at all. Final Fantasy 9 was the closest we got to a nice lovestory and even that was kind of lacking. Final Fantasy 6 has an awful idea of a lovestory. Final Fantasy 7 to this freaking days, 30 years later or so, Square Enix can not decided if they want Cloud with Aerith or Tifa or both or one of them after the other one dies... or do we prefer Aeriths with Zack anyway? Its a mess and its a bad mess on top of it! Final Fantasy 8 thought they could pull it of with that second hand lovestory that didn’t make much sense nor did Squall and Rinoa ever fit with each other! Final Fantasy 12 lacked romance so much that one almost missed the ships that were actually there, because the plot was so long and political and everything was so complicated that there was just no time for romance. Final Fantasy 13... was the game were almost EVERYONE ship that ship that was never intended to be a ship and almost no one like the actual intended ship. Heck, the only reason Ligtning Returns selled at all, was because SE had to give in and give the Hopurai-Shippers their shipping hints, because there were far too many people who prefered Sarah with Noel, despite him having his own ship. Vanille and Fang were extremely toned down and yet still more liked then Snow and Sarah. That is how bad that actual main-ship was. Final Fantasy 15 thought they were oh-so-romantic with the childhood-friends-trope and the whole “love-letter” via book kind of idea but you had to try REALLY hard to get into that ship to actually like it, because - aside from the ending - the only interaction between them were they were both conscious was a freaking smile from far away. And in Final Fantasy 16, we apparently have a sex-scene coming our way. That speaks for the “sex sells” - kind of desperate measures to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if we actuall just F*** a whore in a brother instead of at least having a lovestory. And maybe its better that freaking way, because Final Fantasy 10 seemed to have been the only Final Fantasy with a lovestory that was worth swooning over.

Rand over. lets enjoy the scene now.

I love how innocent and pure that scene was. One could have easily turned that into an underwater hot makeout almost sex-scene or something, but instead they made something adorable out of it and it just fits this ship so wonderfully. I mean, I love me some smut like many other people do, but there are ships out there that aren’t meant for some horny smut scene. These two caressed each others face and hold hand and just exchange a few pure kisses. And that is so wonderful ♥

Isn’t it wonderful? (Did you get that? XD) But I am serious. This scene is just absolutely beautiful. And I mean not just how it looks, but the whole package. The music, the way the characters interact and how that fits their relationship and their story so well. A true masterpiece this game...

Even this part works out so well. Because that is how their relationship is. Beautiful, but bittersweet. Even tho thinks will turn out differently from how Yuna thought, there still will be an end.

It was so cute ♥ I love how shy she was at first. I am sure even something as simple as that, holding hands, was something she never imagined she would have. And yet, at least that moment of happiness was given to her.

#FFX Mona Version

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xxpencil · 2 years

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Proudly off-key

Hmm, what should we do after the wind band traumatized half of the school with their horrendous music last year? calling its music is a stretch

Oh! I know! Lets make them join a competition!

Two months. Two months was all we had. Two months with only one rehearsal a week. Yup, we're definitely doomed :D

We weren't the brightest bunch (especially me), so this was a huge challenge. Not to mention that we had a new conductor. We weren't familiar with him, and he wasn't familiar with us, it made everything ten times harder. at least his choice of songs is better than all the conductors I've ever had in my life.

We played avengers and The Phantom of the Opera, which to be honest isn't really that hard thank god.

lemme save your time and speedrun though some of the important nothings. We practiced still my fingers were red -> we were told that we would have to perform during assembly-> the teacher decided to brighten the mood with more bad news -> we had to make it educational (someone has to solo) -> we voted for the guy who always rickroll us -> performance canceled because someone died

ok that's good enough.

So lemme explain something:

Flute, cold, flat.

Flute, warm, sharp.

That day was hella cold, so at first my flute would sound hella flat. Then there will be a lot of lights on stage, and as i play, warm air would go through the flute, so the flute will become warmer and warmer. In other words, it will become sharper as time goes by, So by the end, on the supposedly soft and beautiful last note, we would sound like strangled elephants that swallowed a bunch of helium. terrible description, I know.

BUT THERE'S A SOLUTION! that is even harder to me :(

and thats rolling in.

wait now im just teaching flute stuff

BACK TO THE COMPETETION

On the dreadful day, we arrived ONE AND A HALF HOUR EARLY!

we had to wait for so long until we can go to the tuning room (the bathroom is so big) and by the time we left, the rubbish bin was full of saliva. It was disgusting.

Fast forward to backstage

We had two plans:

Plan A, right side of the stage

Plan B, left side of the stage

At first, we stood in the plan A line, but then we realised the camera was flipped, we we switched to plan B then A then B then- you know what i'm going at. We kept switching until we had to go on stage. We quickly switched back to plan A and luckily, we didn't mess up.

the performance was smooth, not perfect, but it was acceptable (i definitely messed something up) Standing up, we ran away from the stage, finally free from the pressure.

But that doesn't mean we get to leave yet YAYYY WE GET TO SKIP MORE LESSONS we stayed behind to wait for the other performances to end.

and HOLY CRAP THEY WERE SO GOOD! i felt my confidence go down the drain as they kept playing. (especially the one band who played mamamia)

Anyways, that's that.

#competition #band #i dunno what to tag this

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kingsofchaos · 8 years

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When they've got him in the interrogation room every officer seems to have the same question; was it worth it? With all that happened, with how it turned out, the years of drunken revelry, the constant media attention, the heists, the hubris, the way it ended in a bloodbath the likes of which Los Santos has never seen. This is your legacy Ramsey, was it worth it? They ask like his answer means anything, ask like they even care what he thinks, ask like they don't think he feels anything at all. They ask like it wasn't his plans that brought him here. Like it wasn't his plans the led to six body bags and a single pair of handcuffs, a room full of tactless officers and a kingpin with no one left to call crew. They ask like can't help themselves from asking. Was it worth it?

There's never a serious discussion, no big heart to heart, but there's no escaping the fact that the Fake's all know they are dying in slow motion. More or less signed their own death certificate's years ago, living on stolen time, and sooner or later they'll find themselves in the ground.

They took Los Santos by storm and defended it with their lives. With each others lives. Have sacrificed themselves and the ones they love to a city that takes no prisoners. They fought hard for their crown, and kept on fighting every single day to succeed, to profit, to reaffirm themselves as the city's biggest bads. They knew that they would only be unstoppable until they aren't. Until the day they fall, and eventually they must fall.

Even after all the years of action, all the blood, sweat and tears they've poured into this empire, everyone knows there is no such thing as retirement for the Fake AH Crew; for all they've already trained their own successors the frontrunners of the reigning crew in Los Santos will never be allowed to simply step down and move aside when their time is over. Between old enemies and constant rivals, members of law enforcement and anyone simply looking to boost their own reputation, there are countless numbers who would hunt them to the ends of the earth. Everyone knows, one way or another, the FAHC is going out bloody.

And by god, did they go out bloody.

The Fake's die halfway through the afternoon on a Tuesday. What a fucking inconsequential day right? They were owed a Friday at the very least, were meant to go out past midnight, meant to go out in a blaze of glory. They were meant to go out all together. They weren't meant to go out at all. The wheels fell off weeks before, a series of questionable jobs and public fights, a level of disorder totally out of line with the crew's trademark cohesion. Rumour has it they were rife with in-fighting. Rumour has it after all this time the cracks were finally showing. Its easy, afterwards, to read into the events that came before, to manufacture clues, to swear the writing was on the wall for anyone to see. In reality no one saw it coming. In reality the whole damn city was taken by surprise.

Maybe they bit off more than they could chew, maybe they were distracted, out of sync, or maybe it was just the inevitable finally catching up with them but in the end the Fake's wind up in a firefight they aren't winning. After endless years of near misses and close calls, of lucky runs and brilliant timing, after thousands of impossible victories, the FAHC finally lost.

To lose like this, picked off one by one, powerless to save themselves, to save each other, must have been their worst nightmare. With every body on the ground those left only grew more furious, more reckless, lose whatever feeble grasp on self-preservation they ever had, throwing away any possibility of retreat in favour of retribution. It wasn't enough.

In the end the only one left breathing on either side is Ramsey. The scene finally gone still, silent, the echoes of screams and gunfire fading away into a shivery stunned kind of shock. They say Ramsey'd fallen to his knees amongst the grime, iconic suit near indistinguishable under all the dirt and ash, the blood of men and women who thought they'd live forever. He kneels there in silence while sirens grow ever louder, makes no move to flee, doesn't even look up from bodies as cars scream to a stop around him.

The messed up thing, the really fucked up part? They say Ramsey was laughing by the time the police got there. Say he stood and brushed himself off, surrounded by the bodies of those he claimed family, drenched sickly red while his empire lay in ruins, and laughed. And god doesn't that confirm what everyone's always thought, doesn't that just prove he always was a monster. Never cared for anyone, for anything, not really. People used to say the one thing Geoff loved was his crew but it seems Ramsey's cold-blooded ruthlessness won out in the end.

In the fallout of a travesty, of a victory, of an unexpected bloodbath, in a stark grey room faced with a distressingly apathetic villain, in circumstances none could have predicted, all the detectives seem capable of asking is if it was worth it in the end. They ask and ask and Ramsey's answer never changes, his cold smirk never fades, so calm and unconcerned they catch him glancing at the clock, as though he's bored. As though even now he's got somewhere better to be. And still, full of horrified disbelief, they have to ask.

Was it worth it? Yes. Was it worth it? Always. Knowing what you know now, knowing how it ends, how they all go down for you, would you do it all again? Every damn time. Surely you have regrets, you had to know one day it would end like this. Oh baby, who says it's over?

It comes together as a joke more than anything, the cumulation of too many late nights followed by too many bad movies. Their last job was tense, a heist with months of preparations and so much on the line, and while they've certainly celebrated their victory like royalty they didn't come away unscathed. The injuries, numerous though mostly minor, serve to once again remind them all how lucky they've been so far. How most don't make it nearly this many years without tragedy, couldn't be in the game this long, let alone running the game this long without signing up for devastation. How losing a member, to outright death or crippling injury, is without a doubt only a matter of time at this point. How such a loss will be so much worse in this ridiculously close-knit crew than any they'd experienced before.

Sobering thoughts, combined with the difficulties of winding down after endless weeks of stress eventually leads to the discussion they never have, the question of what else they could be doing with their lives, what choices brought them here, what they would do if they could just step out, sign off, retire. It's not that they're bored of this life they've built – how could they be when the world is their oyster – but there's no denying the fact that after all this time terrorising Los Santos doesn't quite thrill them like it used to.

If you'd asked any of them ten, five, hell even two years ago they'd have scoffed at the idea of ever retiring, would have sworn up and down that they wanted to go down in flames, to end with a bang, and at the time they meant it. At the time it was true. It still is, in a way, they'll probably always see something dreadfully appealing in going out on top, but with every passing year it's harder and harder to look at a room full of people they love and consider playing a role in their deaths. Every time they get hurt it takes a little longer to heal, the old aches and pains are becoming more prominent, and their ever growing patchwork of scars have started looking less badge of honour than they do morbid countdown. Obviously they've still got it, still in their prime enough to keep their crown, but between age and gratuitous injury, time is creeping up on them all.

The Fake's used to joke about the end, said whoever lasted longest won, got to make off with the fortunes, live like a king, but that reality isn't quite so funny anymore. The idea of surviving, of being left behind with nothing but cold hard cash and heyday memories is enough to make them physically ill. So maybe retiring doesn't seem quite so unappealing anymore.

Maybe a passing comment way too late at night, after far too much mixing of alcohol and pain meds, in the spirit of some dumb con movie they'd all been heckling, was enough to plant an idea. A ridiculous, unrealistic, completely unattainable idea, but still an idea nonetheless. They're all a bit hung up on it, still joking, still assuring one another that they aren't serious, but still bringing it up all the same, running through all the possibilities.

It would take far more than simply disappearing; they have too much wealth and notoriety, have far too many enemies, the world is simply too easy a place to comb through these days. People, at least the vast majority of people, would have to be convinced not to come looking. Convinced there was nothing to look for, nothing to track, would have to think the absent members of the Fake AH Crew were in the one place no one could ever reach them.

There are ways, of course, to feign death. For those with the right contacts, with endless money and enough resources, there are ways to trick the body into something close enough to pass, at least for a time. But even then it's not so simple; there must be witnesses, there must be evidence, crook and cop alike must be sure. Of course with a public death comes increased risk- it wouldn't do to go so far in their act that appearances became reality, to go to such lengths to imitate death only to wind up that way regardless. Somehow, someone's going to have to play guardian, prevent anyone's corpse from catching a stray bullet to the brain, or jerking back to life too late with guts already laid out on an autopsy table. Someone has to be ready to whisk them all away, and who do any of them trust more than the man they've been following all these years. The boss they'd die for. The boss they will die for.

They don't talk about it, because no one wants to admit it might be happening, no one wants to burst the bubble, to invite reality to rush in and crush the unbelievable thought that the Fake's might get a happy ending, but at some point they stop laughing. At some point they each quietly start getting all their ducks in a row, using their free time to organise their affairs.

No one questions the way Geoff and Jack have started having day-long meetings with the support crew in-between jobs, the way Lindsay's spending far more of her time recruiting than ever before, the way Gavin's taking calls at all hours of the day, rarely in english, clearly haggling over something. They don't wonder why all their money is getting moved around, why Ryan and Michael are busy collecting all outstanding debts while Jeremy and Ray are plotting the layout of the police station, the morgue.

It's all happening on the down low, all behind business as usual, but eventually, after nearly a year of quiet organisation, they are just about ready to disappear. All that's left is the bang, the flashy smoke and mirrors, the hook to stop anyone coming after them, anyone even thinking to track them down. One final step, one last decision to make, a choice they must commit to as one or not at all. All they've got left to do is die.

Over the years the Fake AH Crew has grown exponentially but the original elements have never drifted apart, never gone looking for something else or turned on one another. The crew has flourished, become a full blown empire, but nothing can touch the unity of the innermost members, as strong now as it have ever been. For all their loyal familiarity was mocked back in the day, for all their closeness was seen as a weakness, after all these years it seems only death itself will seperate them now. If they had the chance to evade their own mortality one last time, to get out, to be free, would they make the leap?

The Fake's die halfway through the afternoon on a Tuesday. Pattillo, the Vagabond, Mogar and the Golden Boy, Little J and Brownman, but not the boss. Well not on paper anyway – any who knew them must know Ramsey'd never recover from the loss. Any who didn't just know the LSPD took seven bodies away that day and none of them ever came back. It's not a stretch to assume Ramsey's survival was a rumour. To believe it wishful thinking, to say he died at the scene or died at the station, delayed injury or the cops cleaning up the last loose thread of the group who'd made their lives living hell for years.

There's paperwork out there, somewhere, claiming a different story. A report that barely makes a lick of sense, the sworn record that a kingpin arrived in chains and left with corpses, slipped out of his cell like he was never there, without a hint as to how he got free. He disappeared like smoke, not a trace left behind, and none of the seven alive or dead ever resurfaced. The story is embarrassing, inexplicable, and it reflects badly enough on the LSPD that it is quickly buried.

Even if it hadn't been there are few who would believe it. Few who could believe for even a moment that Ramsey could walk free and not be with the last of his crew, that he would let another run his empire, run his city, if he was in any way capable of preventing it. No, however it went down Ramsey did not survive. It's fitting, really. No one can live forever and the OG Fake's were certainty pushing their luck, had been pushing it for years; a crew that close should go out together.

The Fall of the Fake AH Crew isn't much of a fall, in the end. The seemingly inevitable power vacuum one would expect following the death of the group who'd been running the city for endless years never comes. It shouldn't be possible but even after the most devastating loss imaginable the the FAHC isn't toppled from their throne. They restructure almost overnight; many of the oldest, original members of the support crew bow out, disappear on the wind without a trace, but there are more than enough left behind to fill their shoes. It's almost perfect, almost unbelievable, some of support shuffling into the spotlight while still more unknown faces are revealed to boost their ranks. Their ability to keep their enemies at bay during the turmoil is impressive enough, but it's the absence of internal conflicts that is truely boggling; there are no betrayals or executions, no public power plays or jealous feuds, somehow the city's most scrutinised gang managed to completely restructure after the loss of not just their leader but all their key members without a single hitch. Almost like they were ready, like it was planned.

If the Fake's had the chance to stay together, to start over somewhere else, stop waiting for the day one of them inevitably doesn't make it home, but in return they had to step away from the action, give up everything they'd built, hand if off to legacy and fade out into legend, would it be worth it?

Apparently, yes. For all of them, from the moment the possibility arises, throughout every conversation, every debate and consideration, with everything they will lose, with everything they stand to gain, every goddamn time without fail, yes.

Somewhere out there, worlds away from Los Santos, a man sits on a private beach. He isn't armed with anything more than a beer, there are no weapons, he simply sits upon the sand enjoying the breeze. There's a woman to his right, sunbathing, a man to his left doing the same; golden tans make their startling number of scars stand out in stark relief but the heat of the sun does wonders for stubborn pains. At the shoreline old friends are knocking shoulders, bumping each other nearer and nearer to the water, not quite rough-housing like little boys but they're getting close, voices rising on the wind.

The single house behind them is huge and noisy, full of music and chatter, full of monsters and overgrown children, the most loyal humans the man has ever had the honour of knowing. In a brief moment of silence sound from the television drifts down to the beach, an American news anchor reporting the latest infraction of some criminal organisation in a far away city; the house cheers and kicks back into a merry roar. Down by the water there is a betrayal, a splash and screeching protest as one winds up in the waves against his will. Safe on the sand, without a trouble in the world, the man laughs.

#FAHC #There aren't enough apologies in the world #this is the longest mess #my rambles are confusing enough as is #why would I go for intentionally jumbled?#If you actually make it through all this you should buy yourself something nice #Loaded Guns and Sharp Teeth #I'll be honest #there was a version of this where #they died; you realise its planned; then realise they messed up and died anyway #that was almost something I dumped on you #so you know #good job me for getting my shit in order #with a weird weird ending #but so many of my ideas at the moment end in misery #this one was going to be happy damn it #tumblr formatting why do you hate me #Quietly ignore the way this makes no sense at all..

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aro-is-gay-af · 3 years

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The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader

As you all can see, I got carried away just a little with this one. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm planning at least part two, since this part got soooo long.

Anyway!

I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, as well as any confusion with syntax. English isn't my native but I always try my best! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Please, pay attention to the warnings. If you are uncomfortable with any of the topics, simply do not read.

I pictured here Aro from the films (as Michael Sheen is perfect for this part), Caius from the films (maybe a little bit older) and Marcus from the films but his younger self (maybe 20?). Also, I wrote at one point that [Y/N] has blonde hair and blue eyes but it just helped me with the descriptions. Obviously, you can picture characters according to your wishes.

Warnings: Rape (graphic description!), Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 7816 (!)

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings' mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

You thought that the death of your parents was enough to break you. As they say, if you’re not willing to bend, you’ll break. And you did. After all.

Ever since you’ve been born, everything went downhill. You were a weak child and within your first five years of life, you’ve gone through countless surgeries. Something was terribly wrong with your spine and the doctors were worried that you wouldn't be able to move normally.

You got your ‘happily ever after’. After fourteen surgeries and taking more than a dozen medications, you could be considered healthy. It made you remember the better part of your childhood. At this point, you couldn’t even recall constant visits at hospital or ingesting enormous amount of drugs.

What you could recall, was the agony that your mom went through while dying of pancreatic cancer. You tried to help her but there was literally no help available. Sure, chemo did help, but only a little tiniest bit. When someone got this type of cancer, there was only one way to die. It was neither pretty, nor pleasant.

So your mother died when you were sixteen. Your father followed shortly after her. He suffered from severe depression after your mother’s passing, but it was the car accident that got him killed. You were just before your graduation.

You’ve finished school and tried to go on. It wasn’t exactly an easy path to follow. You had the feeling that fate had made you its whore and the devil knows his jokes. Somehow, you got through college. You used the money from your dad's insurance policy entirely for your education. It was the only thing you could do to secure your future.

At 22, you got a job at the same hospital where doctor Cullen worked. You were a nurse on the paediatrics ward, but the hospital in Forks was so small that you often found yourself working with doctor Cullen. He was always kind to you and exuded a fatherly warmth. However, like everyone from Cullen family, he was slightly withdrawn from all conversations and social activities.

You noticed a slight change in his behaviour when your best friend, Bella, started dating with the doctor's youngest son, Edward. Carlisle has been talking to you more and more. The conversations weren't long – more like short exchanges of words, whether about his family’s well-being or any leisure activities both of you devoted yourselves after work. Nevertheless, you started calling each other by the others’ given name.

You met with Bella on average once a week. Sure, you were four years older than her, but the age difference never was a problem. You always got along well, and age had nothing to do with it. With time, you've watched Bella thrive during her relationship with Edward and you've enjoyed her happiness. Your relationship had loosened a little, but you didn't hold it against her. With Forks being so small, you could easily meet Bella on the street or in a shop and talk to her about silly things or this boyfriend of hers. It made her blush furiously every time you brought up the topic, especially if Edward waited nearby.

And then, just like that, something snapped. Of course, you heard about their huge quarrel about god knows what, and that Bella wanted to make herself scarce immediately. Charlie called you that night if , by any chance, you could talk some sense into her. Bella not once picked up her phone and then she got her stupid ass into the hospital. And magically reconciled with Edward. That’s when you started to be suspicious. Something wasn’t right about this situation, at all, but you let it be.

Time passed and even though you liked Carlisle as a colleague, you became gradually suspicious about him and his family. Things that you noticed were little, almost insignificant, but something told you that there’s more than meets the eye. Bella herself began to limit contact with you, mainly due to her lack of time for Edward. But when you did get a chance to meet and talk, the subject of Edward still came to the surface.

You tried to understand your friend, while not understanding her at all. You also were in love once but your mother's illness and then your father's death took too much of a toll on you, to experience your first love in such an intense way. It was incomprehensible to you, how Bella could lose her head so much for this boy. And yet you tried, tried to be there when Bella needed you the most. Simply because you were a good friend and also because you needed a friend.

You were left alone, out in this world, with no one to care about and no one to love. Only Bella, as present and, most importantly, alive person, connected you with your childhood and good memories from that time. She was the only one left. You considered her your family and you didn’t want to lose her too. Not after all you’ve been through.

At the day of her birthday, you saw her quickly after her school. You gave her a small gift and you both agreed to meet a day later because Edward's family had invited her to stay at their place. After that birthday, everything changed. The next day Bella went missing. You went to her house exactly as agreed and Charlie said she had been gone for a few hours.

When Bella was found later that evening by Sam, Charlie's colleague, everything became frighteningly clear. The Cullens had moved out of town. Apparently, Carlisle had gotten a lucrative job somewhere else. That didn't surprise you, he was a really great doctor. But how could he not mention a word of it to you? Not that you were so close to him but you considered him a good comrade of yours and moving out of town like this, without a word… It seemed extremely strange to you.

The months that followed were very similar. Bella fell into a deep depression and apathy. You came to visit her, but during these visits it was mainly you who talked. You talked about work, about your next qualification course and about the anniversary of your mum's death. Bella mostly remained silent. Charlie confirmed that, yes, she did go to school, but apart from that, she sat in her room all day and stared at the window.

You knew from Charlie that she was slowly trying to reconnect with her friends. And that she was spending a lot of time with that boy from the reservation. You were happy because it meant that your friend was slowly coming back to life. Maybe not back to normal, not yet, but at least she was trying. And you were trying too. To be a good friend, a good sister to her.

You started talking more during your visits at her house. Unlike before, the subject of Edward didn't exist. It was as if he had never existed. So you did not mention him at all. Bella was healing, slowly, just as you were, when both of your parents died. She was there for you, even if you could only talk to her on the phone because, at that time, she permanently lived with Renee.

For the first time in several months, you hoped that things would somehow work out. In your life, the moments when you were truly happy never lasted long. It was the same this time. One day, you went to Port Angeles to buy new clothes for work. Yours were still from your university days, worn out, but not so long ago you were short of money and preferred to spend it on other things rather than buying new clothes.

By the time you got back to your car it was pretty late. The car park was deserted. On your way to the car, a man accosted you and, before you knew it, he had hit you on the head with something heavy. When you woke up, you were in a squalid alley. The man was pressing you against a wall with all his strength. You only realised what he was going to do, when you felt a cool breeze brush against your bare legs. Your trousers and underwear were almost at your ankles. You started to squirm, trying to free yourself from his iron grip. You heard his quiet giggle next to your ear.

"Don't resist angel, I’ll be quick," he whispered in your ear, pawing at your breasts with his left hand. You felt sick to your stomach. He had hideous breath, as if he had been drinking for three days, then puked and drank again. You started to jerk harder, to pull away, but it only caused you pain. He held tight, pushing against you with his whole body and whispering disgusting things under his breath. When he finally entered you, he tugged hard on your hair. He made no effort to cover your mouth because you didn't even try to scream. You were out of breath, unable to say a word. You were afraid that he would kill you. You wanted him to go away so that the pain would end and you could finally go home.

When he finished, he let you go and just walked away. You stood there, half naked, frozen and shaken, for god knows how long. You were unable to move. When you felt his semen running down your leg, you finally managed to vomit. Your cheek was bruised and scratched from how hard he pressed you against the rough wall. You wanted to go home, but you didn't have the strength to get up from the street.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you finally got up. You got dressed and walked to your car. Everything hurt. You didn't want to, but you knew, you had to go to the hospital. You could not leave it like that. He had already hurt you, but what about the others? You couldn't let that happen. All the way to the hospital in Port Angeles your hands were trembling. Returning to that memory, you didn't even remember how you got to the ER.

At the hospital, they took care of you properly. They called the police. Two female doctors were there for a medical examination. The nurses were very nice. You tried to put on a good face. You've thought about how your sexual experiences has been so far. Your first sex, like most people's, was terrible. Your boyfriend was two years older, you were 17 and it all went wrong. You were in pain. He didn't seem too happy either. Up until you graduated from high school, you tried to make it work somehow, but there were never any fireworks. It wasn't until college that you discovered the good side of sex.

However, you never had sex with someone you loved more than life. You haven't met anyone like that. And you were sure that sex with that person would be unique and exceptional. Until now, of course. Lying on a hospital bed, you felt exploited. Abused. Filthy. Humiliated. How can one do something like that to another person? The nurse asked if someone could come and pick you up, and you didn't have much of a choice. You called Bella. While she was on her way to the hospital, you let the police officers question you. You mechanically slurred the words as if it wasn't about you at all. As if it wasn’t you that had been raped.

As soon as you saw Bella, you were no longer able to pretend that nothing had happened. You were sobbing and she hugged you tight, telling you that he would pay for it. You weren't so sure about that. You wanted to be home as soon as possible, so you went back to Forks. Bella said nothing while driving because there was nothing that could be said. In the shower, you scrubbed yourself so hard with the pumice that you thought you had taken off all your skin. To your absolute disgust, you could still feel his touch on you. You could hear him whisper against your ear and you could smell his hideous breath.

A week has passed. Bella texted you every day, and you were able to hang out almost every other day. She was a good sister, a great friend. She didn't want to leave you alone in this. Despite being offered leave, you went to work. You didn't want to keep thinking about what happened. Each time, after taking a bath, you were unable to look in the mirror. On the first day, right after scrubbing, you decided to take a look. You had bruises on your stomach, thighs, buttocks and breasts. Your forearms were scraped, your cheek was scratched and bruised. The worst of it was that you had been bleeding for days. The gynaecologist said, it was due to too much force, and the fact that you actively resisted for a while.

You were trying to get back to normal. You went to work, you were seeing Bella and taking your course. But no one could touch you. You didn't even shake hands to say hello. You didn't care at all, you couldn’t endure a touch anymore. Not in any way. You didn't get your period, but the doctor said it could happen. It was a shock to the body and a lot of pain to bear. Also, you bled for almost a week after the rape.

You started to be afraid to go out alone. When in a shop or at work, if anyone approached you from behind, you started panicking and hyperventilating. You couldn’t walk ordinarily on the street. You looked behind every two or three minutes to assure yourself that nobody was following you. Your hands trembled while driving the car or making the tea. Your eyes were starting to water as soon as someone even tried to touch you. You had nightmares and you started losing your mind because of this.

When your period did not come in the following month, you began to worry. Surely you couldn't get pregnant with this... monster. Not you. Of course you have checked. You would not be able to live in such ignorance. It turned out that yes, you indeed were pregnant. When the doctor confirmed it, you fainted. Not you, not like that. You didn't even think you'd ever be a mum. Let alone like this. You hated your body even more and the fact that it had betrayed you in such a villainous way.

You knew this path led to madness. You were in an even worse mental condition, than after losing your mum; than after dad died in the accident. You have shed countless tears. You didn't want to abort this pregnancy, and at the same time you wanted it with all your heart. If only you were able to defend yourself. Break away from him and run as far away as possible. It would never have happened. But you were weak and didn't even have the energy to scream. Would it have made any difference though?

You were constantly beating yourself up with thoughts about whether you should keep the baby, when something completely bizarre happened. Jacob called you that he had to rescue Bella after jumping off a cliff. Annoyed, you got in your car and drove up to the Swans' house. Bella's car wasn't there, so you waited patiently in yours. When they arrived, you were boiling with rage.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” you shouted, as you got out of the car.

Bella rolled her eyes. She looked miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was soaked through. She smiled weakly towards you.

“It was just for fun, you know” she muttered, as you hugged her tightly. It was your first closer contact since…

“It was just for sport,” she tried again.

You snorted in annoyance.

“Yeah, sure, get inside before you get sick.”

As you both stepped onto the porch, Jacob unexpectedly grabbed Bella's wrist. They shared a look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. You can go now, Jake,” she muttered, trying to disentangle herself from his grasp.

You smiled weakly at him, while Bella was looking for her keys.

“Cool, I'll take care of her until Charlie gets back. Thanks for saving her stupid ass,” you said. Jacob smiled amused, but still seemed slightly tense.

“No problem. Always at your service,” he joked. “Well... See ya around,” he said goodbye and walked away to his car.

You walked into the house with Bella.

“What were you thinking? You could have died” you muttered under your breath, stripping off your jacket.

“Well...actually I wasn't thinking, like, at all” Bella admitted, smiling apologetically at you.

“Next time think about Charlie,” you said, hugging her once more. Your body screamed that you shouldn't do that, but you were glad that Bella was okay.

While Bella changed into dry clothes, you made hot tea for both of you. Someone knocked on the door. The knocking was not from the front, but from the courtyard. You walked slowly to the door and opened it. Edward's sister, Alice, stood in front of you. You wouldn't have known what she looked like, if Bella hadn't shown you pictures of her. But other than that, you knew quite a bit about her, because when Bella was still with Edward, she couldn’t kept her mouth shut about Alice.

“Hi. Can I come in?” she asked politely. She tried to look normal, but there was something in her behaviour that made you nervous. You were about to reply, when Bella appeared in the kitchen.

“Alice!” she squealed, throwing herself around the brunette's neck. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at Alice in disbelief. "Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming this?" asked Bella.

It was your turn to roll the eyes.

“Of course she’s here” you said, now slightly annoyed. “Don’t be bothered by me, please, proceed to whatever you wanted to say.”

Your sarcastic tone was not intended, but justified. You were slowly beginning to get fed up with this family's games. First they move out and turn Bella's life upside down, and now the big comeback? Something's not right here. Besides, at that moment, you weren't the right person to play with. You had enough problems of your own and your life was messed up enough. What you didn't know at that moment, was that everything was about to change fundamentally very soon.

Alice took no notice of you.

"Bella, listen. Edward thinks you committed suicide. He told me that he doesn't want to live either, so he is on his way to the Volturi to ask them for an execution."

You had no idea what she was talking about. Bella was terrified, and you didn't know what was going on here.

"What, who the fuck are Volturi? Did Edward get involved with some cult? Also, how did he know Bella killed herself?" you asked, not understanding anything of what Alice was talking about earlier.

"We have to go to Italy, Bella,” she ignored you once more. “If they refuse him, I'm not sure what he'll do" as Alice spoke, Bella began to gather herself quickly to leave.

You grabbed her hand.

"And where do you think you are going?" you asked in disbelief. Bella looked at you apologetically.

"Y/N, I have to go. They're going to murder him. Just the fact that I'm alive will convince him."

You snorted in disbelief.

"You're dead serious? And can't you call him and tell him it's a misunderstanding? Besides, Bella, this guy ghosted you. He left you here, alone, with not one explanation and you want to fly to the other side of the world to save this dumb ass?" you asked, trying to take your mind off this ludicrous circumstance.

“Oh my god, we’ll take her with us if she’s not going to back down” said Alice in exasperation.

“And to your kind information, I won't back down. Your douchebag brother and the rest of your family turned her adrift. I was the one who pulled her out of her depression, and I will not let the exact same thing happen again because of any of you,”you hissed out in anger. You saw something in Alice's eyes that you considered to be admiration.

You looked at Bella expectantly.

“Y/N, I still love him. I cannot let this go” Bella whispered and you felt as your chest tightened. “Please…”

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Okey, but I’m coming with you,” you decided and noticed that Alice's eyes were momentarily clouded with mist. You had no idea what was going on here, but you were sure that this whole affair with the Volturi, whoever the hell they were, didn't sound good.

After a few seconds, Alice looked at Bella, then at you and back at Bella.

“Get your coats, we have to go now,” she said.

“But Alice...” protested Bella.

“There's no time for that. We'll explain everything to her on the way. If we start now, we won't get out of here until noon” she muttered exasperatedly, walking out of the house. You looked at Bella.

“Bells, what's this all about?” you asked, and she just sighed quietly. You both quickly got your shoes on.

“We'll tell you on the plane but I'm afraid the Volturi won't like that a lot,” she said with worried expression on her face.

When you were at the airport waiting for a plane, you had countless questions in your head. Why the fuck Edward was pulling such nonsense? Why to be so dramatic about thing that didn’t even happen? Did this idiot really get involved in some sort of cult? And why was his sister so concerned about it that she decided to tell you ‘everything’, whatever needed to be said? However, the question that kept you wondering was who were the mysterious Volturi and what could they possibly resent about you?

One thing you were sure of. There hadn't been a moment since the sexual assault when you hadn't thought about it. And now your thoughts were occupied by the mysterious Volturi and you immensely wanted to find out what it was really all about.

⋎⋎⋎

On a plane ride, you found out that vampires are no fairy tales and your best friend was in love with one. It was a wild thought but, as soon as Alice started taking, you knew it wasn’t a joke. You were given so much information at once that you were unable to respond to anything as Alice finished her long monologue. You had a drink of water, although at that moment you very much regretted not being able to drink whisky.

“Okey, lets say I get most of this…” you said with a low voice, trying to be careful with what you’re saying. “But can you tell me who are Volturi and why would they want to decapitate Edward?” you asked, looking sideways, afraid that someone might hear.

Alice let out a sigh.

“The Volturi are the equivalent of the justice system in our world. They are the ones who created the laws that help us hide from the world, and they are the ones who enforce them. They consider themselves… sort of royalty, as their leaders – Aro, Caius and Marcus – are over three thousand years old.”

If you were to be honest, you were not very good at processing this information. Three thousand years? The first thought that popped into your mind was that they must be immensely lonely. You were sure you wouldn't want to live so many years without having anyone worthy by your side. Later, Alice quickly summarised all the laws that every vampire must obey. They weren't complicated, but when you thought about it a little longer, some of them weren't so easy to follow.

“I don't want to whine, or come off as ungrateful or anything like that, but... didn't you just break the law? By telling me about you?” you asked cautiously, not knowing if what you were saying was right.

Alice sighed again, this time heavier than before.

“It’s complicated” she said succinctly, which interested Bella, who was eating some kind of sandwich.

“This vision of yours was about [Y/N]?” she asked Alice curiously. Alice merely nodded. When Alice told you about her gift, and this was at the very beginning of the story, you found it hard to believe. It wasn’t so unbelievable now.

"Eat something," Alice said to you. "It's good for the baby" she added after a moment, seeing you hesitate. You swallowed heavily, as you suddenly felt sick. The memories of that evening came back.

Alice smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what you were thinking about. And this was supposed to be Edward's gift.

"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" she asked, and your eyes almost fell out.

"Can you predict that?" you asked in disbelief. She and Bella both smiled. Alice nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, sure. I can't predict if the baby... you know, if it will be born, however, the sex I can tell you.”

You pondered on it, while eating your sandwich. The nausea eased, when you could think of something different than that unlucky evening. Before you knew it, you fell asleep and Alice woke you up when you landed in Italy. As Alice drove the stolen car, you tried to admire the beautiful views of Tuscany outside your window. When you had almost reached Volterra, you thought how wonderful it would be to live here.

⋎⋎⋎

This stupid boyfriend of hers. That was all his fault. Of course, Bella made it at the last minute. You, together with Alice, went to abandon the stolen car somewhere. Although, you had a feeling that you would be returning the exact same way. You tried to reassure yourself. Of course you’ll be returning. Or maybe not? If you were honest, you gave no fucks about it. You had no one who’d wait for you at home, your parents died, you were brutally raped not so long ago, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to keep the baby. Maybe dying today isn’t such a bad idea?

You have reached the square and entered the palace at a very convenient time. The guy who looked like a wardrobe and the other one, much shorter than him and blonde, looked like they were about to murder Edward in this instant. And actually, you felt like you could’ve murdered Edward too. Barely Alice closed the door, you didn't even glance at the two of them, but immediately began to scold Edward for what he had done. To hell with his gift!

“You stupid, immature, irresponsible, reckless and selfish bastard!” you started descriptively, and even Bella was taken aback by your behaviour. Alice raised her eyebrows and two other vampires looked at themselves and then straight at you. Edward had no time for any reply. “If you ever, I repeat, if you ever again do something as childish and irresponsible as expose my best friend to a nervous breakdown and months of depression, I promise you, here and now, that I will decapitate you myself. You're old, and yet a five-year-old child is smarter than you. You utter imbecile,” you hissed with hatred.

Of course, your malice towards him was temporary, but it's been a long time since anyone has angered you like that. The shorter man laughed under his breath, and the other one, who looked like a wardrobe, said:

“Can we keep her? I like the way she’s ruling the roost.”

He fell silent, as a short, pretty blonde woman entered the room. Her face was like a child's, but her eyes... bright red, staring at no one else but you.

“Jane” greeted her Edward. She didn’t even look at him.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” she said. The atmosphere immediately became tense. Edward and Alice seemed to stiffen at the sound of Aro's name. You were curious but not frightened. Not yet.

Jane turned and immediately started walking towards the long corridor. Bella just looked at Edward, and you glanced at Alice.

“Do what she says,” she muttered to you and you both kept pace with the couple in the front.

Needless to say, it was the most stressful and also the most terrifying lift ride you've ever experienced. Not to add the creepy music background. You guessed it was supposed to make you feel better, but instead it made your whole stomach go up to your throat. You were standing right in the middle, next to Bella, holding Alice's hand. The vampire, who looked like a wardrobe, kept looking at you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Puking on someone's shoes isn't going to make this situation any better. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward smile. Yeah, the situation you’ve found yourself in was extremely funny indeed.

When you reached the main chamber, you didn't know what to look at first. At the vampires standing against every wall? Not very wise of you. At the marble floor? Nothing to be afraid of for now, so no. You probably should have looked at the three thrones in front of you and the vampires that sat on them, but instead, you were interested in the Latin phrase engraved between the columns above you.

You glanced at your company. Edward looked as if he was about to die. Maybe that's what's going to happen? Alice looked very out of sorts, and Bella, well, she was hanging onto Edward's arm and also looked like she was about to leave this world for good. She was unnaturally pale and you though she was going to faint any second. But it never happened. The rest of the room felt extremely comfortable. For a moment, you turned your head towards the boy who called out to Jane. You did not let go of Alice's hand but you did not feel any anxiety. Curiosity prevailed, mainly because you had come to terms with the fact of your imminent death.

“Sister! Sent you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves,” the boy who’s just called Jane his sister probably was talking about me and Bella. “Such a clever girl,” he praised her like he wasn’t his sister but someone else entirely. You sighed heavily. Maybe they’re also into incest-kind-of-relationships? Who knows. You looked above your head again. There was a short inscription “vita brevis, ars longa” but you knew the rest of it. Latin was obligatory in every medical school.

When the man from the middle throne stood up, it was to him that you directed all your attention. You felt that something about him was... you had no idea how to describe it, but you felt a strange pull towards him. As if some invisible force had power over you.

“What a happy surprise!” he said pointedly, wide smile on his face. “Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful?” he said cheerfully, while walking towards Edward. At that exact moment, you realised that you had managed to get yourself into a huge mess. The lair of the vampires. And you were only a weak human. Recently raped. With a baby under your heart.

As soon as the man stepped down from the platform, you were unable to take your eyes off him. His posture, the way he spoke, his demeanour, it all made you feel incredible respect for him. You’ve never felt this secure and calm in your entire life.

“I love a happy ending,” the man said, while he took Edwards’ hand into his. “They’re so rare.”

You were wondering why this man took Edward’s hand in the first place. You did not have to wait long for an explanation.

“Aro can read every thought that I’ve ever had. With one touch” Edward explained to Bella but you were listening too. Very carefully listening. You’ve finally managed to know the name of the vampire. Aro. It suited him well. Although his eyes were a little scary, you were delighted with his charisma and approach to guests. You realised that indeed, they are called the royal family for a reason.

Aro smiled to Edward.

“Her blood appears to you so much,” he whispered, and you had a hard time hearing his words well. Aro’s gaze rested on Bella. “It makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?” he asked Edward, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable. You could tell by the fact that he was practically standing like a statue.

“It is not without difficulty,” muttered Edward from behind his clenched teeth.

You swallowed hard, as Aro turned his gaze to Bella again but he smiled.

“Ah, I can see that” he said pleased, moving away from Edward and focusing all his attention on Bella.

“Although you’re a quite soul-reader yourself, Edward, you cannot read Bella’s thoughts” he made a rather dramatic pause, still staring stubbornly at your best friend. “Fascinating” he said, not hiding his curiosity.

You managed to look elsewhere, than at Aro. The man on the throne to your left seemed unusually agitated. He fixed his gaze on you, as if his life depended on it, yet you did not feel uncomfortable. You were surprised to discover that an invisible force was also drawing you towards him. You almost took a step forward. You tried to remember the man from a few minutes ago. He looked as if he had died in that chair a few centuries ago. And now he seemed genuinely moved.

“Brother” the man spoke to Aro, as he got up from his throne. Indeed, there seemed to be an urgency to the matter, for Aro turned around in surprise. You had the impression that the man from the throne had not risen from it for a long time.

“You knew about this, and you brought her anyway?” you heard Edward's quiet whisper, directed at Alice.

Alice looked at her brother, then at you and finally at a curious Aro.

"It would have happened anyway. Better sooner than later" Alice murmured mysteriously. You still didn't know what it was even about. The third man, the one on your right, did not share his brothers' patience.

"Aro, let's hurry this up, Heidi will be here soon, and we don't want to frighten our guests" he said ominously, grinning like a madman. You were far from solving this riddle, but as soon as you looked at him, you felt the same attraction and enigmatic pulling as towards the other two.

Aro took his brother's hand in his own and you could see that his eyes would have lit up with happiness if they could.

“Ah, my dear Marcus! What an exceptional news!” intoned Aro cheerfully, heading towards you. He was slow in his movements, exactly so that you would not be frightened by him. All his movements were framed by an incredible grace.

“My dear, if I may, what is your name?” he asked, coming closer to you. You were unable to take your eyes off him. It was exactly, as if he had hypnotised you, only the feeling was more addictive. You didn't have to have a gift or to be a vampire to know that. For a split second, you ran out of breath and just stared into his red irises.

“My name is [Y/N]” you said, with your voice trembling, as your throat tightened hard under the intense emotions. You couldn't believe it was really happening. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe these three beautiful men are just a figment of your imagination? You didn't even want to think about the fact that it might not be true.

Aro smiled encouragingly, while looking at you with all the attention that he’d possibly give you. You felt like nothing more was more important than you to him at that exact moment.

"It is an incredible pleasure to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Aro, but you already know that.”

The smile never left his face and during this brief exchange of words, neither of you took your eyes off the other. You felt that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Aro extended his alabaster hand in an inviting gesture.

“May I, my dear?” he asked you politely.

You gulped. Of course, you wanted to show him that you didn't want to give away their secret. You wanted to show him the strange bond you felt towards him and his brothers. However, there were things you didn't want him to see. You felt deep down inside that this attraction had an explanation and you didn't want him to see... Not that. You’d felt exposed and extremely embarrassed. There was also another issue. His hand. You'd hugged Bella twice since it happened and just now you were holding Alice's hand. You didn't know if, when you touched him, you'd start screaming or crying because you were so afraid of someone else's touch.

Yet, his hand looked so inviting, almost familiar, as if you'd already had the chance to touch it before. Aro himself showed no impatience. He waited, still gazing into your blue irises with his crimson eyes. You extended your hand towards him, at first cautiously, and then with a little more confidence. You took a deep breath, before your fingers made contact. When it happened, you felt as if you had come home after many years of wandering. He closed your hand in his, just as he had done with Edward's. His skin was cold, but he handled you extremely gently. You stared into his eyes as he looked at your thoughts and memories of your whole life. You knew instantly when he was done because he smiled sadly at you. He squeezed your hand gently in his.

"Never again, my love. Never again," he assured passionately, and then he leaned down to place a kiss on your hand. It was so light and as gentle as a breeze on a summer day. You couldn't help but smile.

Aro clapped his hands. He was clearly pleased with what had just happened between you.

"Aro, will you explain to me what's going on? I'm sick of waiting," said the nervous brother, who was the only one with blond hair. Aro smiled widely and turned towards him.

"Ah, Caius, you'll never guess. Finally, after so many years, our mate has honoured us with her presence" he said overjoyed and Caius frowned in awe. You were already able to tell that this did not happen often. Marcus, on the other hand, was sitting on his throne, smiling, still looking in your direction. You didn't miss the glances of the other vampires either. Was it some sort of celebration when Marcus was smiling?

“What does that mean?” it was Bella who snapped that question. Aro immediately appeared by her side. He gently stroked her hair, pulling an unruly strand behind her ear. You felt the sting of jealousy, when he touched her face. You should be the one asking that question and not her.

“Ah, and dear Isabella. What to do with you,” he wondered aloud, as if asking others for advice. “As I have far more important matters to deal with....” he began, looking directly at you. “I’d love to see if you’re an exception to my gift as well,” he whispered to Bella, extending his hand towards her. She didn't have much choice, did she? She took his hand, a little hesitantly, but after a short while Aro moved away.

“Interesting” he muttered. “I see nothing.”

“You already know what you’ll do with her, Aro” said Marcus, his eyes never leaving your person. “Just do it, as we want to know our little angel a bit more.”

You looked at Bella for a moment. She was terrified, not only with her own case, but also with yours. You have already guessed that you are not going anywhere. They would never let you out of their hands. Aro knew perfectly well that you didn't even have anything to go back to. Of course, you had plenty of questions, but you were sure it wasn't about your case now. Just about Bella's situation and what the Cullens had done, or rather what they hadn't done. However, you guessed it, Bella was afraid you wouldn't get out of here alive, and at the same time, you were worried about the exact same thing but about her.

Aro was smiling continuously.

“I have an idea” he said, after a long while. He approached Alice this time. “Would you be so kind, dear, and show me if you saw Bella's transformation in your vision?”

You were smart enough to know that it wasn’t a request. Alice undid her glove and boldly gave Aro her hand. He was absent for a moment and then smiled again. You were impressed by the aura he spread around himself. When he smiled, you felt like smiling too. You still had the impression that it was only a dream, and simultaneously you were sure that it was really happening. Aro's touch was definitely real, you couldn’t forget his cool hands embracing your own.

“Ah, lovely. I know everything now,” he declared. You and Bella probably looked similarly confused, but you weren't the least bit concerned and she was as pale as a sheet.

Aro turned directly to Edward.

“As I have seen Isabella's transformation in Alice's vision, I can let you go with peace of mind, my dear young friends. I trust that a date will be set sooner, rather than later and that I will be able to see for myself, what your mate will be capable of, Edward. As for you, Isabella, you are promising immortal material and I hope your potential will not go to waste," he said, this time speaking directly to Bella.

She was still brave enough to look him in the eye.

“And what with [Y/N]? You never mentioned what will happen to her” she noticed, looking in your direction. You smiled gently to her.

“I’m staying here, Bella” you said calmly, trying to reassure her with your tone of voice that all shall be all right.

You saw pure admiration and joyousness on Aro’s face as you said that.

“Isn’t she remarkable, brothers?” he asked Marcus and Caius, who looked as if they had just received the most beautiful Christmas present.

Bella seemed to be thoroughly outrageous.

“You can’t be serious [Y/N]! You cannot stay here, please, come back with us. You cannot be here while you’re pregnant” she cried, holding your hand and looking at you with disbelief.

What she said made you very uncomfortable and extremely upset.

"Bella, I have nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. You knew that if Alice told me everything, it would have to be resolved somehow," you stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her hand in yours. "I can't go back there, Bells." Your throat tightened with despair as memories of recent events flooded inside your mind. You tried to hold back tears.

"I am a shadow of my former self. I'm afraid to leave the house alone to go shopping or to work. This paranoia is overwhelming me, Bella. I keep turning behind me to see if anyone is following me on the street. I cry at night, knowing that it doesn't change anything. And then there's this unfortunate baby," you sighed helplessly, trying not to burst with tears. "Even if I keep it, I don't want it to have a mother who's afraid to leave the house. I can't live like this, we both know that" you whispered, squeezing her hands in yours again.

“But you cannot possibly be mated with all three of them” Bella whispered with despair in her eyes. You only smiled, sensing that this sentence got on Kings’ nerves, especially Caius’s.

“I think it’s predestined, Bella. Just as you are destined to be with Edward, I do belong here, with my mates” you said cautiously, glancing at Aro and looking for approval in his eyes. He was only looking at you with delight, as he said nothing.

You saw that Bella had hard time processing such information, whilst Edward and Alice said nothing at all. You knew that Alice knew prior about this, and Edward could see the vision in her thoughts. You pulled Bella into a comfortable hug.

“Hey, sister, we don’t see each other the very last time. We’ll meet again. Probably in a different…condition but still.”

Bella looked devastated.

“You promise me that?” she asked warily, her tone full of hope. You smiled at her.

“Of course I do.” You kissed her cheek and caressed her long, brown hair. “We can call each other, you know. It’s not like I’m moving to the Moon,” you joked, to release the tension a bit. To your astonishment, everybody in the room laughed at that. It made you blush, just a little tiny bit.

After another farewell, in which this time you also included Alice and Edward (barely, because you were still mad at him) and an official farewell from Aro, who told them to give his friend kind regards from him, the guests left the chamber.

They left, and Aro was immediately by your side. He gently stroked your long blonde hair, but didn't touch a single piece of a skin. After the display of your memories, he probably knew very well that you did not wish any touch for the time being.

You still couldn't free yourself from under his spell and if you were to be honest, you didn't want to at all. Aro offered you his arm.

"I believe, we have much to discuss, my love."

You took his arm gratefully.

"I have a ton of questions," you admitted as you walked out of the chamber with Marcus and Caius slowly following you. You didn't need to look back, the strange bonds that drew you together informed you of their presence in a yet unknown way.

Aro, as usual, smiled magnificently.

"My dear, one thing at a time," he said in a gentle tone, as he patted your forearm with tenderness. When you entered the study with the round table, Aro immediately pushed back a chair for you.

"No one is to disturb us" you heard Caius' sharp tone as he closed the door behind you. You tried to feel comfortable and at ease. After all, this was your home from now on.

Part 2 | Part 3

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dantelionwishes · 3 years

Photo

life is full of ups and downs downs downs downs dow

loredump under the cut. not kidding when I say its gonna be long!

oh shit you actually clicked keep reading thank you for your interest 😭😭😭

YOU KNOW THE DRILL tw // suggestive dont read ahead if youre uncomfortable with the topic of aphrodisiacs!

MIDDLE SCHOOL

before anything, I gotta explain he was born to parents who had an infatuation quirk (makes them hardcore fall in love with you) and an infection quirk (transmits a virus via saliva)

developed his quirk late, since they usually get it by the time kids are four

most people knew him as quirkless before the first incident

in middle school, his class was preparing for a school play, he and his classmate got cast as the main lead prince and princess

coincidentally, they both had a crush on each other and had a scene where they kissed

technically they weren’t supposed to, since its just a play, but one time they were practicing in private and wanted to try kissing “for real”

so they shared a super giggly cute middle school first kiss but well UNFORTUNATELY FOR HIM HIS QUIRK HAD WELL DEVELOPED–

BADABING BADABOOM YOU HAVE AN IMAGINATION USE IT

the only way for the quirk’s effects to go away is to come at least once or pleasuring yourself until it goes away

I DO NOT WANT TO IMAGINE IT BUT. IMAGINE BEING A TEACHER AND FINDING A MIDDLE SCHOOLER WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER AND AN ADULT IS FORCED TO TELL HER HOW TO MAKE IT GO AWAY LLLLIKE–

rip now that I’m thinking abt it, I don’t even think anybody would even kNOW HOW TO MAKE IT GO AWAY so lets imagine she painfully stays that way until they figure out how to make it stop :^(

there’s a big fight that happens between the teachers, principal, and parents of both parties

of course the crush’s parents got mad and called their kid a fuckin uhhhhh sexual predator or some shit despite also beING THE SAME AGE AND NOT EVEN KNOWING ABT HIS OWN QUIRK LIKE HELLLO

obviously an incident like this is going to spread like wildfire but the principal does not want something like this to leak, especially since it was not on purpose and was a total accident

the other kid’s parents and some teachers did not feel comfortable however, and sato was forced to drop out

but not wanting to spread the gossip about their son’s quirk and the incident, they leave the town and move someplace else

thankfully, the principal gives the sato family his good grades and a recommendation to a decent highschool for the trouble

they’re originally from osaka, but moved to tokyo

this is where they start taking precautions with sato, basically teaching him to be careful with his saliva

it was easily taught and learned esp since the mom was already like that around him and others everyday anyway!! she has to take care of her saliva-based infection quirk, after all

HIGH SCHOOL

he got enrolled into a regular highschool in tokyo

no hero course, no support course, no business, just a regular ol’ school

if before, he loved surrounding himself with people, this was where he was forced to develop a lonely disposition to protect himself and others

at least his parents were very protective and supportive of him and they were generally a happy family!

but in school, pretending to be quirkless was just as difficult, getting bullied or pitied for having no special abilities

his excuse for wearing a mask all the time was because his mother had a virus-related quirk, and had to be careful

one day his dad was suddenly got really, really sick

the more he had an excuse to wear a mask because he didnt want to get whatever disease his father started to develop

sato started thinking it could be his mother (but why?) the results didn’t say anything about an unknown virus killing him (which is his mom’s quirk), and that his father really did contract a strong yet very normal disease

while on his second year in highschool, his father, yozo sato, died

apparently, without him knowing anything about his parents, his mother, oba sato, was actually under the dad’s infatuation quirk this whole time

she realised she wasn’t really in love with him when oba had accidentally allowed a drop of her saliva to fall into the meal she was making him, making him sick, and therefore making him weak enough to deactivate his quirk on her

oba, back in her college years, wanted to marry someone else but yozo, who had a crush on her wanted her to himself, used his quirk to make him fall in love with her

so in revenge for making her put up with him all these years to the point of marriage and having a kid, she continued to do this to his food

her quirk doesn’t make anybody sick enough to die, but it made her husband’s immune system weak enough to the point that it contracted a real, serious disease which he ended up dying from instead

sato only finds out the real story when he graduates from highschool, days right after his graduation the mom confesses it all

she does say she truly loves him, but can’t stay around him knowing he was technically “unconsensual love”

sato gets reminded of what his quirk does, and true enough, that’s what him and his quirk turned out to be (a sick combination of his mom and his dad)

they cant bear to be around each other after that revelation and decide to just not see each other again

COLLEGE YEARS

he enrolls into an education course, inspired by the kind principal who helped him finish his middleschool-highschool education when it all started going downhill

sato struggles paying for his college fees esp since he doesn’t exactly have his parents supporting him anymore, nor any contact with immediate family

he has a lot of part time jobs that go all around the clock, he continues pretending to be quirkless so he gets bullied, and has to deal with all that emotional baggage plus being alone so…….clearly my man is TIRED as hell

his side job hustles include: convenience store cashier, bookstore attendant, bar bouncer, and rookie gym trainer (he went to the local gym long enough for him to get recommended a job as a trainer)

college was that point where he starts developing a hardcore yearning for a companion because oh my god hes so lonELY (but cant)

ANYWAY SO

there’s this bully guy who always picks on him in college (for being “quirkless” and a loner and overall a fuckin weirdo with a mask)

tbh sato doesnt really give a shit he’s so used to it but he doesnt have his mother as an excuse to wear the mask anymore, this is where he starts forming the “I have bad breath” excuse

“口臭い” (kuchi kusai) translates to “bad breath” or “stinky mouth” so sato unlovingly gets nicknamed “kusato”

one day he’s walking around the campus at night and finds the bully with his gang cornering another quirkless student, with plans of assaulting her

sato was never the hero type, and was about to ignore the commotion as to not get involved, but something in him moved on its own and he found himself face to face with the gang

he confronts them, but the bully mocks both him and the girl for not having powers to stop them anyway

SIKE BITCH sato’s able to easily strike the other two guys, knock them off their feet enough to be able to tug the to-be victim aside, telling her to report them, before asking her to run away as fast as she can

none of the guys want that (they’re all students) so they have a full on brawl (and this isnt hero academy, its a totally normal university so I wouldn’t assume these guys had very impressive quirks)

except the main bully actually has a pretty decent quirk (he’s like a kinda half human half dragon with sharp claws, scales, and dragon eyes) and gets to injure sato with his sharp claws, seriously injuring his face

a part of his ear is also sort of sliced off, which is how his mask gets accidentally removed in the process

the dragon bully grabs him by the collar and starts angrily shouting at him for ruining his night, being able to do all this shit without a quirk and all and all other derogatory speech

“Well? what do you have to say for yourself?!“

Sato stays silent before spitting right into the bully’s mouth

The bully drops him immediately, about to angrily fuck him up for doing something super fucking gross but WHOOP WHOOP YOU KNOW WHATS BOUTTA HAPPEN the quirk works immediately and the bully is a TOTAL MESS on the ground

Im going to TLDR this part cos its…obviously nsfw but like: sato fully embarrasses him in public (beside the bully’s two colleges nonetheless)

sato stays in the hospital for some time to heal from his wounds

fortunately, afterwards, the bullies all get expelled

unfortunately for sato, he also gets expelled for engaging in bad behaviour, and the bully did say what happened to him (and the college principal did not want his…dangerous quirk on campus) so as to lower any incident, all four were expelled

at least without having to pay for college fees anymore, he could fully focus on paying for food, shelter, and clothes

minus of course the hospital bills needed to pay plus he got a sick ass scar from it anyway HAHAHAHA BSDJHJRHDHF

ADULT LIFE

he had a lot of jobs here and there, but was more or less doing best as a trainer at a local gym where people weren’t allowed to use their quirks and strengthen their body regularly

a few years went by and he eventually shrugged off everything that happened in his final college years but one day someone familiar walked into the gym! It was the fellow college student he saved!!!

she became a policewoman who wanted to get stronger in this quirkless friendly gym and hadn’t given up on her dreams of being a “hero,” inspired by how sato saved her that day

sato never really saw himself as some hero, he was left many nights alone thinking about how easily he could become a villain with his quirk, so hearing that really made him happy

he trains her as her gym coach and she eventually asks him to join her patrol this small part of the city from a gang that was currently going around doing crimes since he’s good at it anyway, saying she could use some extra hands hehe

so yeah!! he does this side gig with her where he patrols alongside her looking for gang crimes and such c:

AND ONE DAY. [WISTFUL SIGH] ONE DAY. HE FINDS SOMEBODY GETTING MUGGED BY A GANG MEMBER AND SAVES………A CERTAIN MAN–

thank you for reading all the way here!!!

feel free to ask for questions or for any clarifications 😭😭😭!!!!!!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha oc comeback #mha #bnha oc #mha oc #lionhe(art)#I know I havent exactly written stuff from meeting toshinori onwards #but thats for another day!!#I only ever wrote Sato's backstory pre meeting all might #yet all I drew as a teen was them as a couple lMAOOO #idk if anyone would wanna read that but honestly iM SURE THE STUDENTS WANT THAT SPICY RELATIONSHIP INFO JHSDJGHAJHJK #my 17-year old self would have been happy in my place ;;3;; !!!!!#i finally got to share his lore!! that was a lot so if you seriously read it all thank you so much aaaaaaaaaaaa #Osamu sato-sensei

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist x reader #roy mustang #roy mustang x reader #platonic #fmab roy #fmab fanfiction #fma fanfiction #fma #fmab #anime x reader #anime fanfic #sorry i'm on mobile #forgive me

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rooksilver · 4 years

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okay not to be a dramatic fuckin theater kid but

THE FINALE. THE FINALE. THE. FINALE.

FIRST, THE PERFECT “MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN” MOMENT AS THEY SURROUND JSCHLATT, DRUNKEN AND OLD, IN FULL NETHERITE ARMOUR. IT’S ALMOST LUDICROUS. AND THEY WATCH, ALMOST PITYINGLY, AS HE DIES, NOT IN BATTLE, NO GLORIOUS REVOLUTION FOR THEM, JUST AN OLD MAN WHO RAN OUT OF TIME.

THEN, PRESIDENT-ELECT TOMMY. IT’S AN OBVIOUS CHOICE. WHO ELSE? BUT HE SAYS NO. HE GIVES UP HIS POWER, AFTER EVERYTHING HE’S DONE TO EARN IT BACK. CHARACTER ARC MUCH?

And then. Wilbur gives up his position to tubbo. TUBBO. Nobody really expected it, but after he said it, was there really any other choice? Sure, he’s young and inexperienced but he’s amazing and will lead well. They’ve won. A little anticlimactic, and you can’t truthfully say you weren’t waiting for something to happen, but they were happy. He stood on the podium, free this time, and made a beautiful speech.

Then. Cherkov’s gun. It’s the realisation of wait, wilbur’s the traitor? Of wait, he’s gonna do it? And you kind of want him to but at the same time no, no, no, you’re so close and you have everything please don’t please don’t no no no no.

Then PHILZA JOINS. I. I literally. I cannot. WHEN WAS HE WHITELISTED?? WAS DREAM PLANNING THIS??? He must have been on at least once before because it only took him a minute to get to where wilbur was so he clearly didn’t start at spawn. The dadza scene of “mhm. You’re in l’manburg, are you?”

(And in the chat you see techno killing tubbo and the fighting begin, but you think maybe theyre just messing around, you dont fully know that he’s betrayed too until you switch pov)

And then he blows it up! Boom! Gone! And he says, “kill me, phil. Look, they all want you to.”

And phil screams, “YOU’RE MY SON! No matter what you do, I can’t do it.” Tearing my shriveled heart to pieces in the process.

But he does do it. He kills him. Because he has to. And you can hear his frustration. “you just couldn’t let yourself win, could you? You just had to throw your toys out of the pram.”

Meanwhile, the rest are watching the explosion. You hear dream yell “YES!” as it detonates. His plan has fallen perfectly into place, he’s gotten what he wanted. He won. The others watch phil murder wilbur and scream in confusion. Dream tells tommy wilbur was the traitor and he says “what?” And then changes the subject as if he can stop it from being true by ignoring it.

And then, techno. TECHNO. oh my GOD, he was so good. After killing tubbo with a crossbow firework after his speech (for the second time, may i add) he does his villain monologue and oh my god its AMAZING. The theseus comparison? “nothing good happens to heroes”? Perfect. And “you want to be a hero, tommy? Then die like one.” THIS MAN WAS AN ENGLISH LIT MAJOR AND WE BETTER NOT FORGET IT

i kind of had to go after that but from what i gather from tumblr, phil was unable to be angry and techno. Instead, he sort of joined him and started helping him with supplies and i get why people wouldnt want him to but honestly give the man a break. He’s already lost two sons today.

Anyway sorry for the rant but the dream smp finale owns my heart and i spent half an hour writing this bye

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triptuckers · 3 years

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New In Town (part five) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: Kaz finds out who has been stealing from him Warnings: language, mentions of fighting/violence but no blood Word count: 1.8K A/N: he is hereeee hehe PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler@romanoffstarkovs@daliareads@meiitanoia @itsnotquimey@sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @brekker-zenik @just-deka @graceknxwlson @the-very-tired-mess@whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @Janesofia7 @stairscortana @parker-natasha @illicitghosts @brick-by-brick553 TAG LIST (New In Town): @calums-betch add yourself to my tag lists here

After stealing a necklace and a crate full of jewellery, you developed a taste for sneaking around behind the Dregs' backs. This is not at all like your job back in Ravka, but you're getting the hang of it. A part of you prefers stealing for yourself over taking jobs from others.

At least this way, you get to be the one to make decisions. You get to decide wether or not to go through with a job, who you steal from and who gets hurt.

Back in Ravka, there had been a number of jobs that went wrong, and it mostly resulted into you fighting for your life. You won, but your opponent often wasn't so lucky. You'd hurt more people than you intended, but at least you got paid.

In Ketterdam, you had yet to fight someone to the death. You tried to avoid it. You stayed in the shadows, at a distance of the Barrel and its gangs.

As the weeks went by, you didn't have a lot of trouble. You listened in on Kaz' meetings with the others, and successfully stole four items they also had their eyes on. They still hadn't figured out it was you, and you took pride in that.

You occasionally ran into Jesper in the streets, but judging by the way he spoke to you, he still thought of you as a nice girl who was a bartender, and now worked at a cafe.

Only you didn't work at a cafe. But you trusted Jesper not to look further into it. You had the feeling he trusted you.

Given that you really like Jesper, you sometimes feel bad for sneaking around behind his back. But to see their confused faces when you outsmarted them again, was priceless.

And you didn't take all of it, anyway. You only sabotaged the jobs you wanted. Some jobs required more than one person, so you couldn't interfere with those. And you didn't want to take everything from them, just enough for you.

You got better at climbing buildings and jumping from roof to roof. You taught yourself how to pick a lock after you watched Kaz do it from a distance. It took you a few tries, but eventually, you got it right.

After spending so much time in Ketterdam, you started to feel at home. You didn't really have a lot of friends besides the people that lived in the same building as you.

Sometimes you wanted to tell Jesper all of it when you saw him in the streets. But you had quickly changed your mind when you saw them caught in a fight with a rival gang, and you saw they all knew how to fight. You didn't think they'd be too happy to find out you had been stealing from them.

So Ketterdam was nice, but also kind of lonely. In Ravka, you had a few friends. They didn't know what you did for a living, but they didn't seem to care. Everyone kept secrets.

You thought no one knew of your life in Ravka, so you were surprised when you heard a new name whispered on the streets of Ketterdam.

It was a name you hadn't heard in a long time. In Ravka, there had been whispers of a thief that worked so well, no one knew who they were. The Ravkans claimed the thief moved so swiftly, they became one with the shadows.

Without even knowing they were talking about you, one of your friends had once excitedly whispered to you about the so called shadow thief.

Though you hated the name, you were also a bit flattered they even gave you one. It meant you did your job good. And it also meant they hadn't discovered your identity yet.

You figured the people of Ketterdam had no way of finding out you are the thief they talk about. After all, the name was spoken for the first time weeks after you arrived. No one would be able to tell it was you.

You're walking down the streets, on your way back to your apartment. When you first got to the city, you didn't dare walk through the Barrel. But now that you've been there for a while and know the streets pretty well, you decide to take a shortcut.

Even if some drunk gang member would approach you, you had your weapons. As well as the escape routes you could take. All you had to do was climb up a building with a fire escape, and you'd be able to get away.

It's dark outside, but it doesn't scare you. You're listening to the sounds around you because even though you're familiar with the streets, it's still the Barrel. And you're still a girl walking home alone.

Your hand is on your knife that's hidden away in your coat pocket. It's only a little further to your apartment. Suddenly you get an uneasy feeling in your stomach and listen carefully for any sounds you might hear.

The most important lesson you learned was to trust your instincts. And right now, they are telling you you're being followed. You keep walking, pretending you haven't noticed them.

When you walk around a corner, you pull your knife out of your pocket. But before you can turn around and push the knife against their throat, something hard hits you behind your knees, knocking you to the ground.

You groan as you fall to the floor but are up again in seconds. It's dark, and you can't see who your opponent is. You dodge a second swing of a long object, and dart forward, ready to punch your attacker.

They raise their weapon to swing at you again, but you are quick to grab it and give it a hard pull, yanking it from their hand.

It catches them off guard. They stumble and you notice the way they clutch one of their legs. You raise the weapon - which you realise is a cane - and glare at your attacker.

'Give me a reason and I'll fucking crush your skull with your own cane.' you say. 'And I'm warning you, don't fucking test my patience.'

To your surprise, they chuckle lightly at your words.

'You won't do that. Because you won't get paid for that. No bodies if there is no payment.' says a raspy voice.

'What the fuck are you talking about?' you say.

'I'm talking about what you used to do for a living in Ravka, shadow thief.' he says. 'Mostly stealing, but sometimes things didn't go the way you wanted. If someone died, you demanded extra payment. Collateral damage.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' you say, hoping you sound confident. 'If you're after my money you can piss off because I don't have anything on me and I don't intent on inviting you into my home. So get lost.'

You can see he wants to say something. You toss the cane toward him, it hits him in the stomach and he doubles over, gasping for breath.

'I wonder who you are without that cane to swing at people's knees, Brekker.' you say.

It didn't take long for you to figure out who it was. Only one person in Ketterdam walked around with such a recognisable cane. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the one who had been planning all of your jobs for you.

'So you know who I am.' he says.

'Everyone in Ketterdam does.' you say.

'But not everyone in Ketterdam knows who you are.' says Kaz. 'You did quite a good job at keeping your identity hidden. Jesper tells me you work at a cafe, but every time I walk by, you're not there.'

You narrow your eyes at him. 'What do you want?' you say.

'I want you to know I know who you are, I see you. I know of all the jobs you did back in Ravka, I know your reputation. Now I am the only one who knows you are the shadow thief people whisper about. Imagine what I could do with that information.' says Kaz.

You're silent as you listen to him. Was he really going to threaten you?

'I could sell that information to the highest bidder. I'm sure there are people in Ravka who lost a lot because of you. They'd be happy to know who you are.' says Kaz.

'Be my guest.' you say. 'I can handle it. If all you wanted to do was to threaten me, I think I'll go now.'

'One more thing.' says Kaz. 'Why do my jobs for me? And don't deny it, I know it's you.'

You shrug. 'It's easy.' you say honestly. 'You plan it out, you do the hard work, all I have to do is make sure I arrive before you do.'

'But now I know it's you, I can take precautions against you.' says Kaz.

'Can you, though?' you say with a mischievous smile. 'You don't know how I get the information.'

You step closer to him, still smiling. 'I look forward to seeing what kind of precautions you're going to take. We'll see if they can really stop me, Brekker.' you say.

You step back again. 'Next time, if you want to talk, just knock on my front door. I'm sure it's easy for you to follow me to my apartment. I'll have fresh coffee ready for you and we can talk like civilised human beings.' you say and you turn around and start to walk away.

'Except for we're not civilised human beings, shadow thief.' you hear Kaz say as you walk away.

You smile to yourself as you keep on walking. You didn't know what Kaz thought he could do to stop you. If you are right, he didn't know how you got the information on his jobs.

He'd have to be patient, like you. You didn't know just how much he knows about you. He knows of your past, he knows you steal from him, maybe he'd guessed at your skills.

You'd have to be careful. He'd try to make sure you won't do his jobs for him anymore. And you have the feeling he knows very well how to play dirty.

But two can play that game.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#new in town #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker x reader #Kaz Brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fic #Kaz Brekker fics #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfiction

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puppypeter · 3 years

Text

These are all dark fics, READ THE TAGS before reading the fics. It is your responsibility to check whether what you are about to read is something that you can stomach. While most of these fics are based around trauma, recovery etc many feature triggering scenes or flashbacks as well as darker themes. Please be safe and don’t read them if they can be triggering for you! Proceed with caution! Most of them are Hydra Trash, but still not just the ugly bits as I like there to be a plot. Hiding them below the cut:

between scylla and charybdis | 21590 words

Sam Wilson has been witness to a lot of things he wishes he could unsee. Civilian families shot dead in their cars because of miscommunications at checkpoints. Riley’s body spiralling to the ground in a smoke-plumed plummet. His own face in his bathroom mirror after waking up hung-over as hell at two in the afternoon, the day after the anniversary of Riley’s death, year after year after year.

And now, in an abandoned bunker on the outskirts of Boston, a seemingly unremarkable manila folder at the bottom of a filing cabinet.

Berceuse | 10730 words

There are strange, new things Bucky needs from Steve.

Dreamers Often Lie | 11040 words

As far as Bucky remembers, sex is something that is painful and terrifying if you wake up while it's happening. As the Asset, sleeping through sex was a rare treat. When Steve lets Bucky know he's interested in a sexual relationship, what Steve doesn't know is that they have fundamentally different ideas of what that entails.

despite the threatening sky and the shuddering earth (they remained) | 71532 words

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Fire And Water For Your Love | 77084 words

When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Give An Inch | 5070 words

The Captain has a warm smile and clear, open eyes. The Soldier knows these are tricks. He's fallen for them before and he won't do it again.

Humans As Gods | 4818 words

"HYDRA's scientists had been delighted to find their serum-reversal procedure had worked. Their jubilation was dampened by the discovery that Steve's smaller self might no longer be Captain America-sized but was still 100% Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers was now mad enough to spit nails. A minor oversight in the design of the containment area meant that smaller-Steve had simply wriggled out of the now ridiculously-oversized restraints like an angry ferret escaping a paper bag, and punched the nearest technician in the nuts.

Chaos ensued."

HYDRA scientists successfully de-serum Captain America, only to discover that they are utterly unprepared for Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier follows his instructions to the letter. This works out just great.

The Only One That Needs To Know | 6571 words

Bucky can't control his body. He can only control what secrets he keeps.

I Was Wearing My Blue Coat | 11503 words

Following exposure of his past as the Winter Soldier, anonymous postings of explicit video footage, 63 charges of murder and the wrath of the Internet, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes finally steps into the limelight and tells his story to Zenat Patel of the New York Times.

Compliance Will Be Rewarded | 4767 words

Someone told him once: "Compliance will be rewarded," and he remembers pressing his head against a man’s leg in open supplication. He remembers hands in his hair, and a gentle grip on the back of his neck. He remembers a man telling him "so good, so good for me aren't you?" And he remembers nodding his head in a desperate attempt to be exactly as good as he was supposed to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky Barnes is physically free from Hydra, but the hold on his mind lingers still. All he wants is to go home, and he'll do anything he can to get there.

To Burn Your Kingdom Down | 12370 words

The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

Worth The Wound | 7709 words

The asset knows that maintenance is better than punishment. But with Steve, maintenance becomes more pleasant, soft and gentle and everything he could dream of. It was only natural that he decided to prolong that maintenance a little longer.

The Spaces In-Between | 6971 words | Part 1 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

"Memories are like buckets of water: they weigh on the heart and the brain until the body fails. You're blessed to stay forgetful and young, Soldier."

Sometimes blessings feel like curses.

Illuminate The Scene | 7086 words | Part 2 of What We Tried So Hard To Hide Away

The doctors had wanted to keep the Soldier. Shock him and freeze him until he was fixed, or tear him to scrap if he couldn’t be repaired so that he wouldn’t be an entirely wasted investment. Steve is the only thing stopping them.

When the Soldier can't trust his own body, how can he trust anything?

All These Riots Of Broken Sound | 83790 words | Part 1 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

When Steve and the team return to Avengers tower to find Bucky gone, they must venture into B.A.R.F. to figure out what triggered him to leave and hunt those who wronged him. Trapped in a simulation of Bucky's worst memories with rogue HYDRA agents waiting to strike, 100 years of secrets, lies, pain and love drive the team to their limit and push Steve towards a realisation that is a century in the making.

I Was Lost But Left A Trace | 3585 words | Part 2 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

Disorientated, the Asset reached up to wipe at the moisture on its cheeks and was shocked to find it clear, instead of the crimson it has been expecting. It didn’t understand why this misidentification had caused uproarious laughter from the technicians.

“It is not blood,” the Asset told him, “but it is still a malfunction.”

This sobered the technician a little, and he nodded tightly.

“Yes. It is. But we will fix you.”

I’ll Always Be Blamed For The Sun Going Down | 9907 words | Part 3 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

He knows he’s in the right place. He has heard the guys at the docks laugh and joke about the queers who come out after dark, looking to earn a little extra cash. He has seen the johns, when he’s been out late enough, skulking in the shadows like predators hunting for their next meal, looking for something in particular. Sometimes they look at him.

A small, rusty pen knife that his father had picked up in Europe during the Great War sits heavy in the breast pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

Book Of The Moon | 16019 words | Part 4 of Forever Is A Close And Honest Friend

In 1929, Bucky Barnes falls in love for the first time and resigns himself to never telling a soul, let alone Steve, the object of his affections. In 1943, half a world away from the man he can never have and fighting for his life and his sanity, something new begins to bloom.

Habeas Corpus | 18054 words

An unexpected incident in the field leaves Steve Rogers facing the infiltration of a Hydra base and retrieval of important intelligence, all while pretending to be the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately, there are important aspects of the Soldier's past that Bucky hasn't disclosed, and Steve has no idea what he's really walking into.

Bullies | 14979 words

Written for the MCU trash meme prompt:

I wanna see Steve being messed with by his secretly-HYDRA coworker buddies. I want them generally fucking with him, "accidentally" doing terrible things to him or getting Steve into awful situations, telling jokes that aren't really jokes, gaslighting, performing sexual-assault hazing under the guise that "that's what people do now," pressuring him into other sex shit, anything, just fuck Steve up.

Steve isn't failing to fully catch on because he's dumb or oblivious: it's just that he is Steve, so he wants to believe the best of everybody, and he doesn't want to believe that he could be working for/with bullies and that (as Natasha says) he essentially died for nothing.

Not Unwanted, Not Unloved | 50320 words

They'd resigned themselves to never becoming parents - until Bucky gets pregnant and drops off the grid without even a whisper to his mate about his condition. Steve will still raze the earth to find him, but that doesn't mean he likes what he finds.

The Tones That Tremble Down Your Spine | 13889 words

Tony tells him they’re planning a party for Steve’s birthday. He knows how parties are supposed to go.

Lacuna | 62875 words

The Winter Soldier doesn't remember Steve Rogers, but he needs Rogers' help.

OR: The one where Bucky doesn't remember Steve, but falls in love with him anyway.

Not A Perfect Soldier | 93354 words

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat". Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

For Want Of Him | 103174 words

It's the twenty-first century, and Steve Rogers has never been more alone. Everything he knew, everyone he loved, is now gone, and a dark, bitter loneliness claws at him, raking bleeding gashes into his heart. And then there's Brock Rumlow. Rumlow is like salt in his wounds; vicious, and cruel. But his dark brown hair and teasing smirk reminds Steve of someone long dead, and his New York accent sounds like home...He's a soldier like him...he understands. And Steve makes the fatal mistake of trusting him.

The Same Measure | 4943 words

The Winter Soldier was never allowed to stop unless an injury was too grievous.

To Be Unmade | 5114 words | Part 1 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

For the asset, things only ever get worse. The external scars fade quickly enough. The internal ones dig deeper and deeper.

But the internal scars are called love, and doesn't that make them worth the hurt?

Do Not Put In The Icebox | 7143 words | Part 2 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

When the asset malfunctions on a mission, Rumlow and Rollins learn more than they ever wanted to know about Pierce's hobbies.

And then everyone has pancakes.

The Knowing Makes It Worse | 4130 words | Part 3 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

No is a bad word and invites punishment.

Or, Alexander Pierce is a very bad man who delights in manipulating and degrading the asset.

Love Is For Children | 5303 words | Part 4 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky understands how the game works. He can't understand why it makes Steve cry.

But Natasha and the other Avengers are there to help.

I Just Wanted To Be Sure Of You | 4461 words | Part 5 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

Bucky has Bucky Bear; it's only fair for Natasha to have something of her own.

Visiting a toy store wasn't strictly necessary, but if Tony wants to throw money around, no one's going to complain.

“Till The End Of The Line | 6069 words | Part 6 of Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower

It's hard to take a friendship right back up when so much has changed over seventy years.

Particularly when HYDRA's conditioning resurfaces.

*if you feel that any of these fics shouldn’t be in this list please just send me a message! :) I have read them all but over the past 1+ years so some of them I might not remember all the details of :)

#HTP #hydra trash party #dark fics #recovery fics #but with A LOT of trigger warnings #puppy peter fic recs #don't like don't read #hydra angst #bucky angst #bucky whump #MIND THE TAGS!!!

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smallblip · 3 years

Text

Imagine being loved by me

Levihan | rated for mild mentions of sex + spoiler warning for that one forest scene levihans y’all know what’s up | [I hope you find this xoxo 🤍,🐇]

More notes on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/31001030

“You’re shit at kissing...” Levi coughs. Everything hurts, and him hacking up his lungs is testing the integrity of Hanji’s stitches. The loud humming of the forest fades to a whisper when she breathes life back into his ribs.

The shock and desperation fades from her face and she’s laughing now, “but Levi...” she drawls, “we’ve had so much practice...”

Not enough... He breathes. In a world full of people he chose her, and he has built a home in her. Now he just needs a little more time. And Hanji understands. But this world has been kind. Thirty four revolutions around the sun and she’s here in the forest with him. Everything has gone according to plan. At least in all the ways that matter. There’s still time. The world is suspended in a sunbeam, dancing like dust glinting when it catches the light.

There’s still time... We can pretend we’re the only two people left in the world...

—

To build a home in another person, all you need is a little wonder. But in this time and space, Levi is young and whatever skills he exhibits in the battlefield, he makes up for with lack of imagination.

Because imagine that- Levi having anything to do with Hanji Zoë.

“You’ll love me Levi, just you wait!” Hanji had teased, three days after first introducing herself to him with a smile and enough sunshine to last Levi a lifetime, “we’ll be best friends in no time”. To which Levi responded with a glower and a seething “not even if we’re the last two fucking people on earth.” And Levi hates himself for saying that. How fucking childish. But the need to be eloquent with Hanji is always lost under the temptation to bicker like children. They all tease him about it. Tell him that Hanji is just- well- an inevitability. And she’s never wrong. But Levi doesn’t think much of it. Her prophecy is mostly forgotten beneath the humdrum of routine death and destruction.

Until now.

Except it really isn’t a prophecy, because prophecies are mostly right aren’t they? And Levi is sure whatever they’re doing is testing the boundaries of friendship. Maybe people do kiss their best friends around here. After all what would a street rat from the underground know. But Levi’s pretty sure it’s just Hanji.

“What are you thinking of?” Hanji asks, breaking the silence that comes with being the only two people awake in the dead of night.

Levi pulls himself out of his thoughts, the lines on his forehead relax, Hanji’s words looping monotonously in the back of his mind like a mantra. “Nothing,” he says, because he’s not quite ready to give Hanji the satisfaction of being right. But it’s mostly an inevitability anyway.

“Well... Just imagine I’m a girl you like... Or a boy... Both are fine,” Hanji says, “I don’t really care,” she winks at Levi.

And Levi still thinks this is a ridiculous idea. Then again they’re young and the experiences they have in this life are limited by the affordances of what comes with the job- or the people that come with the job.

Except they’re not young. Hanji has made it twenty two rounds around the sun without dying, without so much as a scar on her arm from that one time she had failed to check her blind spot. And that means something in their line of work.

And Levi has always been susceptible to persuasion. “Join the Survey Corps.” Erwin had said, sure it took near drowning with his head dunked in a drain and a plan he has since abandoned, but he’s here now. He’s here now in Hanji’s room in the dead middle of the night and maybe it means something because he’s here even though his head is still above water and nobody is commanding him to do anything.

But there’s still this feeling in his chest, like everything is wet and he’s drowning.

He clears his throat, “why are we doing this again?” Because he’s lost the plot somewhere between genuine annoyance and realising his annoyance is a farce.

“I don’t know... Pretend we’re the last two people on earth or something?” A shrug, then “got a good image in mind?”

Everything is so simple with her and Levi struggles to come up with an image to make it easier to breathe.

But Hanji is so close to him now that they’re bumping noses. And even in the dark she’s more vivid than any image Levi can think of.

He figures he doesn’t want to imagine.

He tucks a stray strand of hair that had escaped his braiding behind her ear. His fingers skim her cheek. And at this point, Hanji thinks maybe it’s pointless to pretend that she’s imagining that boy who tends to their horses back home, or the girl from the Garrison she couldn’t quite keep her mind off- until now.

But this is just practice, a little experiment, an experience bounded by its own set of rules- this is all just pretend, it doesn’t mean anything.

So Levi thinks fuck it, because Hanji might be right, they might die tomorrow, might as well live a little.

He doesn’t tell her he’s imagining daylight- the sun streaming through the day curtains, warming the sheets. He’s imagining that sliver of light on her face, catching fire in her eyes. The place within this ray of light is one of safety. Nobody can touch them there. And Levi wonders how long it will last them.

Hanji is surprised when he leans in first and kisses her. Tentatively at first, like he’s waiting to see if she will change her mind. But Hanji is resolute in all the ways he is, and she kisses him back with fervour. She imagines they’re younger. Imagines meeting under different circumstances. Imagines they don’t have a war to fight, and they’re sitting on the edge of the wall, shovel by their sides, peering far past the fields and she’s telling Levi all the ways the earth moves to form hills and valleys. And she thinks maybe they’ve always been friends.

But the image fades a little when she brings a hand to his face, cupping his cheek, and he sighs into the kiss. Besides, she’s already told him countless times how the earth breathes.

They pull apart to breathe because breathing is somehow necessary, Levi thinks maybe he’s getting used to drowning. His eyes are glazed over.

But he snaps out of it fast enough when Hanji breaks into laughter that sounds like the morning. He scowls and pulls her close by her ponytail, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You’re shit at kissing...” he murmurs.

“Really?” Hanji drops a peck on the tip of his nose, completely unconvinced, “I guess I just need more practice...”

—

But the clumsiness of youth doesn’t quite abate with practice.

They’re on an expedition and it's storming outside the tents and Levi makes himself at home in her tent. He’s so close to her now that she can hear him breathing. And she feels like a stupid teenager with a stupid crush. But that's exactly what she is.

When she's done pretending she's asleep, she opens her eyes only to find him staring at her in the dark. She holds her breath, but she doesn't look away. Because that's how they get you right? You lose some sort of secret competition and then everything goes down hill from there and you'll have to deal with the humiliation of it all. So she forces herself to look at him, thanking the gods for her bad eyesight.

A shock of lightning illuminates the inside of the tent like a paper lantern and finds the greys of his eyes. Hanji thinks she sees her reflection swimming in his irises. Swimming or drowning- well, there's a fine line isn't there? He shifts closer to her, scowling like he's moving against his will, and Hanji holds her breath. He wraps an arm lazily around her, pressing his face into her shoulder.

"Wha-" Hanji starts, clearing her throat before continuing, "what's this?"

"Whatever you want it to be..." Levi doesn't look up, but even so, Hanji knows he's frowning, "I'm cold..."

"Alright then..." Hanji chuckles, fingers scratching at the short hairs on his neck, "we're the last two people on earth waiting for the storm to pass..."

Levi thinks about thunderstorms, and sure enough, there’s a steady patter of rain he had tuned out earlier in favour of the thrum of Hanji’s heartbeat beneath his finger tips. He hates wet weather. It’s inconvenient to say the least. Earth becomes mud and everyone tracks said mud into the mess hall. He still remembers the way Isabelle looked when she died- the rain washed away the blood, she looked peaceful almost. Maybe it’s apt. The girl who loved storms spent her last moments on earth listening to the sound of thunder.

His breath evens out against her blouse, "and?" Levi wants her to continue, to fill the gaps of thunder with her voice, because that’s all he’s been thinking about lately and he thinks he knows why.

“And we hate each other’s guts...” Hanji grins.

“Why?” Levi asks, thinking Hanji is missing the point here.

“Everyone loves a good enemies to lovers story...” Hanji laughs.

“That’s dumb...” Levi says, but Hanji is so warm that it pulls him in.

“You’re dumb.”

He scoffs. “Fine.” He says, because Hanji is an inevitability, “and then what?”

She hums, thoughtful, “we hate one another until a storm rolls by...”

—

But it's not always storming, and in fair weather, it’s hard to say what you mean. And Hanji finally realises what she feels, it’s somewhat of a breakthrough. Yet, the first thought that flashes across her mind is how inconvenient this whole situation is. She had just been teasing. She just wanted to get a rise out of Levi. And now they’re spilling over the edges of “more than just friends”.

But there’s little time to think of the details. They get into trouble and Hanji blames it on the potent mix of youth and reckless abandon. Levi blames it on Hanji.

They crash a party for the high society snobs within the inner wall only because Erwin told them they couldn't come along. Hanji’s in a borrowed dress and Levi wonders why he lets himself get dragged into these situations. But there’s more alcohol and food than they’re used to, and they learn champagne goes straight to their heads.

“What now?” He asks, when they’ve stuffed themselves full of roast and potatoes and Hanji almost feels sick.

“Wanna dance?” She replies, pupils blown wide so he knows she’s not all there.

They’re too drunk to actually call it dancing, but Hanji remembers the basics. So she leads. And Levi thinks if he looks into Hanji’s eyes now his heart will explode and he’ll be a dead man. So he opts for staring at her clavicle and mumbling the first thought that comes to his mind.

“What?” Hanji grins down at him.

“What’s this?” Levi says again, because his heart is beating out of his chest and he feels like he's going insane.

Hanji looks down at their feet, still keeping rhythm in her head- they're doing a simple box step so they can't fuck up, no matter how drunk.

"A waltz?" She says, confused, because it should be obvious enough.

"Idiot..." Levi mutters, and Hanji thinks it could be the alcohol because his cheeks are red and he's leaning too much into her. So much that she trips.

They fuck up their rhythm.

The streets are cold. That's the only reason they're holding onto each other for dear life.

That and the copious amounts of champagne in their bloodstream. Bold, brash, bubbling. They had bolted the moment Erwin had spotted them, finger raised accusatorily in their direction, mouth agape with shock. And they had done such a good job avoiding him the entire night too, only to have their cover blown when they tumble to the ground in the middle of the ballroom, with Hanji falling atop of Levi, a shared gaze between them like a cliche.

Hanji is laughing so hard she has to crouch down in the middle of the streets, arms wrapped around her belly to stop the shaking. Her dress is stained at the hem and she'll have to wash it out before returning it to Lynne. But Levi has abandoned all notions of hygiene and neatness and he's now sitting on the ground with Hanji, watching her laugh. There's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. And he thinks to himself yeah, this is inevitable.

"You know what one of the old snobs told me when you were busy chugging champagne?” Levi says, because the moon is out and it's so full that it's almost bursting at the seams. Nothing matters. The streets are cold, but Levi feels a fire coursing through his veins.

Hanji looks up at him, wiping the tears from her eyes, "what?"

“He told me ‘your wife’s a real handful’” Levi doesn’t know why he’s quite so breathless. But it doesn’t spare him the fact that he is.

“And what did you say?” She chuckles.

Levi makes the mistake of looking up into her eyes. Her eyes with their own gravitational pull, and Levi gets dragged into orbit. “yeah she is...”

“Ah...” Hanji replies, thinking maybe she needs more alcohol. Maybe they could stop at the pub on the way back. But the churning in her gut tells her otherwise. Besides, there's enough of this to go around- this thing she calls youth and reckless abandon. In a few years she'll call him an old man, the cadets will call him a relic. But that's the distant, distant future. For now they're young and the only thing that matters is the way she's smiling at him.

The rest of the walk is quiet, and Levi makes a passing comment about being the last two fucking people on earth with how empty the streets are (“did everyone just die?”). She chortles and he doesn't quite let go of her hand. Somewhere between the party and her room, Levi drapes his jacket over her shoulders. Well, technically her jacket that he borrows all the time. It smells like him now and Hanji holds it close to her with her other hand. And when they’re back at the barracks, he walks her to her door like any boy on a date would. So Hanji tells him just that- that he's behaving exactly like a boy with a hopeless crush-

A lover boy.

And she's not at all embarrassed at the words slipping past her lips. Then again, she has never been one to be particularly careful. She’s been told she’s not exactly good at holding her tongue.

They stand there in the silence, the partial darkness of the corridor. Levi only realises he’s staring at Hanji’s lips when he glances up momentarily and catches a glimpse of her eyes widening in realisation. Realisation like she has found something about him that only she knows. Levi feels vulnerable. But all he can think of is how the blush on the bridge of her nose is beautiful. Hanji looks like she’s about to say something, there’s something amusing about this situation and it’s bubbling between them- bold and brash. In another universe, she would have the opportunity to say it. Probably something along the lines of told you Levi! Enemies to lovers! and this is the part of the story where you kiss me...

But Levi decides he doesn’t want to hear anything she has to say, so he grabs the lapels of her jacket and pulls her close. The kiss that follows, a far too gentle succession to the feeling of crumpled fabric in his fists, a press of lips against the bridge of her nose, and another one- a chaser- on the tip of her nose.

She chuckles and he frowns at the offending noise. “What’s so funny?”

“You missed...” Hanji says before pulling him close by his belt loops and kissing him on the lips.

And there's a hunger that's ignited.

His jacket hits the floor first- the one he had draped around her shoulders. Then his shirt- the only fancy thing he owns. Then her dress-

Like a waltz for two- fingers reaching, exploring, lips crashing. But they're too drunk to call it dancing, sober enough not to call it a mistake. So when they're both naked, breathless forms in the dark, Levi reaches out to press their palms together.

“I don’t know how to be anyone’s lover...” he says just before they fall asleep, and Hanji's vision has adjusted to the dark. There are stars in his eyes, brilliant enough to pull Hanji into their orbit. This is the part of the story where she falls in love with her best friend, and he falls for his, and they know one another a little too much to use the word “love”. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face-

“Neither do I...”

—

In uncharted waters, Levi can only hope for fair weather again. And maybe it comes in the form of Hanji knocking on his door the night he becomes captain.

“I like you Levi... Does that scare you?” She says from his bed. She’s never had the best timing. But this moment is as good as any other. One terrible mission, too many deaths, and the burden of greater responsibility later, and here they are. One too many revolutions around the sun. Enough for him to be seen as some sort of god, and her, an enigma.

“How much?” He answers. The bed dips where he joins her.

“What?”

“How much do you like me?”

There’s silence. Levi can hear his own heartbeat in his ears when he lies beside her.

“Like a sunbeam...”

He scoffs, “you’re not making sense four eyes...”

She chuckles, a kiss to his forehead, where lines have gathered- hold your horses Captain...

“Imagine you’re lying in bed and it’s been raining so it’s a little cold. It’s not uncomfortable, but you notice the chill and it wakes you a little. But then the sun filters through that gap in the curtains, soft and warm and it kisses your face,” she turns to him to press a kiss to his lips for clarity’s sake, “and there’s nothing in particular you have to do, so you go back to sleep, cradled by that sunbeam, like a cat... Nice huh?”

“Yeah...” Levi says, breathless. The atmosphere is thinning and if Hanji doesn’t let up, he’ll be gasping for air soon.

“That’s how much I like you...” she grins, matter of fact, like she’s talking about the weather, about how the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.

When he goes to sleep lulled by her soft snoring he’ll dream of Hanji. In his dream he tells her he’ll steal a cat for her. Because that makes sense somehow. He needs her to know how much he loves her too. It ends with her naming the cat Albert. Levi absolutely hates it. Or at least he pretends to.

But it’s the present and they’ve sunk back into comfortable silence.

This is the part of the story where you kiss me you idiot... he hears it in her voice, warm and playful.

So he does just that. And Levi figures maybe some part of him is a sucker for romantics.

—

“Help me capture a titan, Levi!”

Levi would glower at her, tell her no before she’s allowed to finish her sentence. But they head back to camp, titan in tow, captured alive. And perhaps this is as far as romance goes in this world.

And it becomes a ritual of sorts- if we make it back, dinner’s on the sucker with fewer kills.

Except this time the date is them tearing at each other’s clothes.

Hanji never understood why anyone would put this world at the centre of the universe. There’s just too much pride in that assumption. There’s nothing particularly special about this world, yet she will live, love, and die here. A cursed rock, a beautiful rock, orbiting the sun. This is the world in which the death greets them with the hospitality of an old friend. Of an old god that whispers in their ears-

Welcome home, my children.

But at twenty five revolutions around the sun, she can’t imagine being dead. She knows she doesn’t want to die, not really, not when there’s still so much beauty to behold. There’s so much beauty in the way his heartbeat feels against her temple, in the way her toes are peeking out of the duvet, in the way he’s holding her like she is his.

“You won this time Levi... You captured a fucking titan!” She says, meaninglessly. It doesn’t matter in the larger scheme of things. Hanji would get drunk mid-way through dinner and Levi would pay. That’s just how things work around here.

“You nearly died...” Levi says, “you nearly fucking died...” he’s calm now, all the anger, all the frustration he had, has now been wrung dry from his system. Now his face is pressed against her chest, and the marks he left are just starting to surface, more brilliant than her bruises from battle are.

“Yeah... Scary huh...”

So she thinks now is as good a time as ever. This moment is precious enough. She presses a kiss to his forehead.

“What do you want to do when this ends?” She asks, because a little wonder never hurt anyone:

“If you died, all that wouldn’t even matter...” Levi says accusatorially, a petty way to be in their line of work. But it’s only because it scares him that nothing has come close to scaring him this much. If she dies, she takes everything that’s left of him with her. Levi doesn’t make the rules. That’s just how it works.

Hanji chuckles. “I’m sure you can easily find someone else... A nice little wife, an apartment in the city, a brood of kids?” She quirks a brow at him, completely missing the whole irony of lying in bed naked with a man she’s selling her little fantasy to. But she hears the others talk about it all the time- about settling down, having children. Besides this sliver of light will not last them.

“Is that what you want?” He asks.

Hanji ponders this for a moment, she thinks maybe not. It’s best not to drag someone into this life of hers, where nothing is guaranteed, where death lives on her doorstep and she knows it on a first name basis.

“No...” she answers simply. “I just want to sleep. Take a long nap... Wake up and realise it’s mid-day, then fall back asleep again.”

That sounds nice. That has always sounded nice. He thinks of sunbeams, of dust, of a stupid cat named Albert.

To build a house in another person all it takes is wonder and reckless abandon. And being around Hanji has granted Levi both.

“Maybe we could build a cottage in the forest...” he says like he’s dreaming and he has nothing to lose.

Levi doesn’t miss the crack in her voice, “didn’t peg you for a forest kinda guy...”

Levi shrugs, “figured you’d like the forest... Enough dirt for you to play in...”

Hanji chuckles breathlessly, turning to face Levi. She locks eyes with him, and she sees the boy she kissed in the dark “just to see what it feels like”.

“I don’t know how to be anyone’s lover, Levi...” her voice is a whisper, “I don’t clean, I hardly wash... I don’t know how to make bread...” After all, all things weird and abnormal come with their warning labels.

There’s a smile pulling Levi’s face.

“I do,” he says, “I’ll make the bread... Just promise me you’ll take a bath before dinner...”

Levi pictures that- a cottage in the middle of god forsaken nowhere, the last two people on earth- he glowers at her first, then they become friends, an inevitability. And now they will fall in love over a loaf of warm bread. Maybe there’s a storm outside. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter. They’re waiting on that sunbeam that always comes through their curtain in the mornings.

“Yeah...” she answers, it’s hard to breathe in vacuum. It’s hard to breathe when Levi has taken her breath away, “yeah okay...”

—

Welcome home, my children.

But Levi isn’t dead yet- not yet.

“You nearly fucking died...” Hanji had said, accusatorially. And even though she has fought it for years, she thinks maybe she has allowed herself to take him for granted. The invincible Captain Levi, now dredged up to shores like old treasure. And Hanji nurses him back to a soft glow. “What the fuck... You nearly died...” she says again, as if it isn’t already obvious by the state he’s in.

He looks at her, because moments like these are rare as of recent. He feels the ghost of her lips against his lingering under his bandages. From when she had breathed life back into his lungs. There’s still blood on her face- his blood. And even so, god, even so-

There’s sunlight percolating through the clouds, a sunbeam that reaches down to caress her face. She’s here now, this lover of yours, it says. And Levi almost confuses this moment for his dreams. But life on this unspectacular little rock has been kind, and this is reality. Slightly grimmer than he’d hope, but Hanji is still here. And he sees the years that have gone by in the way responsibility has weighed her down.

No matter. She’s here now. Waking up next to him in a beam of sunlight, dust rising and dancing like bubbles underwater. He’ll get up, warm the bread, and she’ll set two cups in front of them. And Levi would stare at his cup.

“It’s tea, idiot...” Hanji would say, but she has no business defending the cup of something that looks far too dark, too murky to be tea. So she laughs and adds a- “you know I’m really shit at making tea...”

He knows. And that’s a problem for later. For now, Levi imagines they’re the only two people left on earth.

“Maybe we could live here together... Right Levi?”

The thing about the sun. It will always be alluring to the little creatures that dwell in the leaf litter. But too much of a good thing would blind them. This little cursed rock will turn on itself, like a little ball of dirt being rolled off to some pre-determined spot. Completely meaningless in the larger scheme of things. But god, does Levi want to fly into the sun.

Instead he replies, best he can, “I don’t know how to thatch a roof...” And that’s unacceptable. It has to be. How are they going to survive in the forest without a roof. What are they going to do when the storm comes. And his reply reads with familiarity- I don’t know how to be a lover... Now a meaningless phrase exchanged between the two of them like a habit. As a warning to themselves to not get too comfortable in this world.

He hears his own heart shatter. This is the moment he realises there might not be a happy ending to their story. This is the moment he realises he had been hoping for one.

Hanji understands. She understands because she’s the same. So she breaks a smile at him.

“Neither do I...” she says. She can’t even make a decent cup of tea to save her life, and now she wants Levi to run away with her. What will they do. But god, she knows she can brave any storm with him.

“But when this is over... We can figure out how...” Levi says, laboriously, and he links his pinky with hers. He’s humanity’s strongest, surely he can learn to thatch a roof.

“Yeah...” Hanji says, breathless. She’s smart. She’ll figure it out. And she thinks she never wants to die. “Yeah okay...”

She takes this as her cue to lie beside him, head leaning against his good shoulder, hand over his heart. Hanji was right all along. Levi kisses her forehead and tells her he wants her.

“What’s this?” She whispers, eyelids getting heavy, like she’s going to drift off to a long sleep. By morning, the sun will caress her cheek, and if this life permits, she will fall back asleep again in Levi’s arms.

“Whatever you want it to be...” he replies.

“Okay...” she says-

We’re the last two people on earth, waiting for the storm to pass.

#hope you like it💖#levihaneggschange2021 #levihan #Levi x hange zoe #Levi Ackerman #hange zoe #mine #my fic #shingeki no kyojin #i hope there are no mistakes I rewrote this a few times!#Levi x hange #Levi x Hanji

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reyeslonestar · 3 years

Text

I can’t face the world without you

Available on Ao3

a little (long) follow up to this fic. I hope you enjoy

TK x Carlos, Angst with a Happy Ending (yay), Coma, Proposal

tw, mention of a panic attack and cardiac arrest

1.9k words

TK sits in the uncomfortable hospital chair that he’s claimed as his own for the past week, tapping his fingers absently against the velvet box he’s holding in his hands. It’s the ring box that came out of Carlos’ uniform pocket when they’d had to cut the blood stained clothing off on the operating table - the final straw that broke the camel’s back of TK’s emotional capacity on the day that Carlos was shot. There's another box in his pocket - the ring inside the one that TK bought a few weeks ago. The one that he was going to offer to Carlos that Friday night after they'd crawled into bed, holding each other close as they revelled in the wonder of each other’s company.

They should be fiancés by now.

Instead, he’s watching the unnaturally silent stillness of the man he loves most in the world; the slow rhythm of the heart rate monitor a soundtrack to the fear in his head that he might never get the chance to ask that question, or to ever hear it returned.

Because Carlos has been in a coma for 8 days. And while the doctors are hopeful, TK knows there’s no certainty that he will wake up.

TK nearly had a panic attack when they told him Carlos went into cardiac arrest on the operating table, the fluids Tommy gave him in the ambulance not quite enough to counter the amount of blood he lost in the field. He was in a critical condition for some time, but the surgeons managed to pull him through the surgery and he was moved onto a ward in an induced coma. They eased off the anaesthetic the next morning, and from then it’s just been a waiting game.

TK refused to leave the hospital for the first three days, sleeping fitfully on the unforgiving plastic chair pulled up against the side of Carlos’ bed, his head pillowed against his boyfriend’s side - the side without all the bandages and the stitches that are holding Carlos’ organs and tissue in place.

On the fourth night Owen was adamant for TK to go home, have a shower, and sleep in a proper bed, and it was a testament to TK’s exhaustion that he couldn’t bring himself to argue. However, after waking in a cold sweat at 3am from the horror of having to helplessly watch Carlos bleed out in front of him over and over, this time without Tommy and Nancy and the ambulance supplies there to save him, TK had ordered an uber and snuck back through the hospital corridors in the early hours, trembling with relief to see Carlos alive and breathing, even if only thanks to various plastic tubes criss crossing his body, and even though the sight of him so unnervingly motionless burnt a sour taste down the back of TK’s throat.

Carlos’ parents have been here every day, too, coming by the room to sit quietly on the other side of Carlos’ bed, and each time the nurses wheeled Carlos away for scans and tests, Andrea and TK would sit together in silence, gripping tightly onto each other’s hands for support. There were a lot of tests in the first couple days, and scans to try and gauge his brain activity, to know when he’d wake up and what kind of state he’d be in. Apparently the results were hopeful, indicating everything looked to be normal for the circumstances, and that Carlos would be back with them soon.

But Carlos still hasn’t woken up. And TK is losing the fight against imagining the worst.

Grace and Judd had stopped by the night before - the whole 126 have been in and out of the hospital over the last week to visit and lend their support. Carlos became part of their family when he became part of TK’s and TK knows they’re missing him just as he is. Judd had pulled him into a tight hug, whispering that Carlos was strong, that he’d pull through, before planting a kiss on the top of his head, ruffling his hair as they’d parted. Grace’s hug had been softer, but no less loving, and they’d both sat by Carlos’ side for a time while Judd took Andrea and Gabriel to get some more coffee from the hospital cafe.

He’d felt her eyes on the way he’d been fiddling with the ring box, the same way he has been ever since he found it.

“You know I wanted to propose that night?” he’d said suddenly, voice scratching with the first words he'd willingly volunteered in days. “Nothing extravagant, just- in a way that was us,” he’d added, volume diminished to a hushed whisper on the last word.

Grace had squeezed his arm gently. “So did he,” she’d said quietly, and TK had just stared at her, unable to put anything into words. She’d shrugged slightly. “He was going to make you dinner that night and propose then. He wanted it to be special, but like you say, in a way that was you.”

Tk has felt too numb with fear to cry since he broke down on that first night, but he’d been pretty damn close then.

“I can’t lose him,” he’d whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself, but Grace had heard him anyway.

“I know, honey, I know,” she’d told him. “The same way I know he’s fighting to come right back to you.”

As much as TK wants to believe her words, as the hours creep late into Carlos’ ninth night in this bed, he’s wondering if maybe Carlos has fought all he can. Maybe his strength finally gave out and the beeping machines next to him is the only thing keeping that chest steadily rising and falling.

Tucking his chair as close to the bed as he can, TK draws Carlos’ hand to his lips as he rests his head against the bedcovers, settling in for another night of interrupted sleep.

“I need you back, Carlos,” he whispers, holding back the tears that threaten to spill down his cheeks. “I dont- I can’t face the world without you.”

Tk wakes to the feeling of a gentle hand stroking through his hair with slow movements. He blinks slowly and looks up to see warm brown eyes smiling at him.

“Hi,” Carlos whispers, his voice a hoarse and grating sound from a week's disuse.

It’s the most wonderful sound TK has ever heard.

He cries Carlos’ name brokenly, launching himself at Carlos' neck to hold him close. He can feel Carlos chuckling slightly under his chest even as he pulls TK closer and he closes his eyes to soak in this feeling.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into Carlos’ neck and Carlos holds him even tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Carlos whisper, and he pulls back abruptly.

“No,” he says firmly, wiping away the tears that have slipped down his face. “No, you have nothing to apologise for.” He stands up, shifting into action. “Let me get you some water and then we need to get your doctor, get you checked out-”

Carlos’ hand tugging on his interrupts him. “I love you,” Carlos says, voice still scratchy and rough, but he’s smiling at TK, who sits heavily back into his chair.

“I love you too,” he says, squeezing Carlos’ hand painfully. “I love you so much and I thought I was going to lose you and-” he stops and takes a breath, halting the runaway train of his fear in its tracks. “I’m just so happy to see you again,” he finishes with a whisper.

“I’m here,” Carlos says. “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

TK hovers by Carlos’ bed for the next few hours, only stepping far enough away to allow the doctors and nurses to check Carlos over, run tests and eventually remove the various apparatus that have helped keep him alive. Gabriel and Andrea are a teary mess when they see their son sitting up, breathing, talking, alive, and TK can’t blame them. He feels like he’s been holding his body up through sheer stress and worry, and now he knows Carlos is going to be okay, he’s ready to collapse with relief.

At long last, though, the hospital staff retreat and Carlos’ parents head to the cafe to leave Carlos and TK alone once more and TK doesn’t miss the way Carlos sighs with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Do you need something? I can get you something to eat, or drink, or if you need to sleep-”

“I just want you,” Carlos interrupts gently. “I want to ask you something.”

There's something in his voice that makes TK sit up straighter and he frowns slightly. “What’s up?”

“When I woke up- you were holding a box,” Carlos starts, and TK, realising what he’s referring to, pulls the two ring boxes from his pocket and holds up the one from Carlos’ uniform so Carlos can see it. He nods, taking it from TK’s fingers and studying it as he carries on, “I had a whole dinner planned, you know? I was going to cook for us, lay the table out on the terrace and then after we’d eaten I was going to get down on one knee, and ask you. I definitely didn’t plan for this to happen but-” He opens the box carefully, turning it so the ring faces TK and takes a deep breath.

“I love you, TK. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every morning and know that the love of my life is lying next to me. I want to have a family with you, and make every house we live in into our home. I want to make you dinner whenever we feel like it and spend half our day off in bed even though one in the afternoon is outrageously late for a lie in.” TK chuckles slightly at the dig at his unwillingness to get up in the mornings and Carlos smiles, so bright and warm.

“I didn’t know I could love anyone like this until I met you.” Carlos continues, “You’ve filled my life with so much happiness and I want to try and make you as happy as I can for as long as I can, so - Tyler Kennedy Strand, will you marry me?”

TK smiles tearfully as he ruefully holds up his own box, laughing slightly as he sees realisation dawn on Carlos’ face. “Beat me to it, didn’t you?” he jokes, opening the box to look at the simple platinum band set with diamonds inside. “I’m afraid I didn't plan a dinner, or a big speech. All I knew was that I wanted to ask you, because I want all those things, too. You’re my family and you’re also my home. You’re the best thing in my life- Carlos, you nearly died and I-” he pauses, swallowing back the shadow of choking fear that threatens to mute him. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re everything to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I don’t want to go another day without asking you to marry me. So yes, Carlos Reyes, I will marry you, but only if you marry me first.”

Carlos laughs through the tears welling in his eyes, pulling TK in by the wrist to kiss him, whispering “I love you” against his lips. When they pull back, he gently threads the ring onto TK’s left hand, his own hand trembling when TK returns the gesture. TK brings Carlos’ hand up to his lips in a mirror of the last night of Carlos’ coma and kisses the ring, warm lips against cool metal.

“I love you,” TK says quietly. “And I can’t wait to love you for the rest of our lives.”

#my writing #reyeslonestarw #tarlos fic #tarlos #userjillian #userkimmy #tuserjamie #userbones #tuserjenny #useramyj #howlingsaturn #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #911 lone star fic #grace ryder #god this was so hard #it feels incongruent with the first part #but oh well

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cauls-antique-pepperbox-pistol · 3 years

Note

Idk if u do these kind of asks, but can u share any of ur jacival hcs?

Yeah sure!! So some of this might just be simple facts and some of these I came up together with @jjackrabbitt

Caul was born in the 1850s (1856 to be exact) and Percy was born in the 1870s (maybe 1872 or 1874. His name gives off 1, 7 and 4 vibes, so I think his birthday would be in July, maybe 11th of July. Eh, or 14th of July), so Caul isn’t only physically older than him, but actually older than him

Percy goes to sleep earlier, so that the bed is nice and warm when Caul joins later 😌 Caul is usually working late at night (sometimes he passes out on his desk, so Percy does have to go and get him every now and then), but he sleeps in long the next morning, while Percy is already out on a mission or doing other important things

Caul counts Percy’s freckles sometimes when they’re cuddling, maybe tries to kiss each one of them too

When coloured contact lenses were invented, Caul convinced Percy to wear them most of the time, cause he missed Percy’s bright, piercing eyes

Things turn a little toxic toward the setting of the first trilogy and continue throughout the whole series though. Caul is more focused on his goals and gets easily angry more often and also sometimes gets pissed when Percy does something wrong or isn‘t in the mood to make out. Caul starts to care less about how Percy feels, going as far as to mentally abusing him by taking advantage of Percy being insecure about his masculinity (he tells him to “man up” a lot and “aren’t you my big, strong man?”), he also “helps” Percy a little with certain stuff during TCoTB (he possesses him a few times), cause Percy seems to be questioning this whole plan and Caul can’t let it fail, not when he’s stuck in the collapsed loop of Abaton and its library. Speaking of which, the library is partly possessing Caul :) (to make sure the prophecy gets fulfilled) making him so much worse with every passing day and which is why he was treating Percy that way. In the far end, the library has almost completely taken over Caul

Only when Percy dies, Caul realises, for a moment, what happened and what he’s been doing. He carries Percy somewhere safe, but quickly forgets about him again (I should probably mention that in the damned au, Percy’s death is different and he has a whole scene for that 😌)

In the very beginning, Caul was genuinely in love with him though, almost obsessed with Percy. He was trying SO SO hard to get Percy’s attention. He’d visit him at the Department of Obfuscation so often and flirt with him and get on Percy’s nerves, but soon Percy started liking that 😌

Percy sometimes makes clothes for Caul :) the stuff he‘s wearing at the end of LoS is probably made by Percy

Percy sometimes kisses Caul‘s nose, cause,, it‘s pointy :^)

So I think Caul has his own special ambrosia (made out of the souls of ymbrynes) which doesn’t only enable him to use his lost peculiarity again, but maybe makes him feel less empty? Anyway, sometimes it really messes with him and he wakes up the next morning covered in tons of feathers and wings as arms and talons as feet (sometimes it’s less than that), so Percy helps with him getting rid of the feathers (it’s painful, but he’s being careful)

#there’s probably more I have but that’s all i can think of at the moment #and i don’t wanna keep you waiting any longer lmao #so here it is :)#jacival #caul bentham #percival murnau #mphfpc #questions

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giuliafc · 3 years

Text

Nostalgia - Snippet July/LadyNoir July Day 4

Nostalgia

Written by: JuliaFC

Ao3 || FFN

Beta: Malauu_Ladynoir, Fluffy, Scarlet, KhanOfAllOrcs

Summary: Ladybug wants her bubbly minou back, but Chat Noir is tired of playing second fiddle. Written for Snippet July and Ladynoir July day 4, Effervescent/Patrol (story's wordcount 1000 words)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks AND for LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly. Day 4 — Effervescent/Patrol. Let me know what you think!

oOoOoOoOoOo

Patrols used to be different. Ladybug used to look forward to it, especially the ones at nighttime. Those were special: there was something about the City of Lights beneath them, the whiteness of the moon framed by the darkness of the nights, lighting the dim canopy of stars. Even when the weather was bad, she enjoyed it. Jumping in the rain reminded her of the day she received an umbrella from a boy she had misjudged; it reminded her of falling in love.

What she liked the most was sharing those times with her chaton. She didn't want to admit it to him, but as time went by, she'd found herself getting fonder and fonder of that bubbly cat-boy. He was always so happy, so exuberant in the way he joked, in the way he jumped around, in the way he spoke to her, in the way he loved her. He was… effervescent, like the tastiest fruity champagne to pop open for important occasions.

Not anymore.

Ladybug didn't know when it happened, but her chaton had... changed. Slowly, he'd lost his exuberance and bubbliness. His effervescence had died like a fizzy drink left to waste. She thought she would've appreciated him 'maturing'. That she would've liked to not be pestered again with roses, to not have her thoughts interrupted by ill-timed puns. But she was wrong; her heart ached at the realisation. She wanted her minou back, but she didn't know how to approach the matter. She didn't know if it was wise to approach it. She only knew that she had to.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Since everything looks clear, I'll go home," muttered Chat Noir absent-mindedly after a quick round of patrol. A very quick round. "I still have things to do. Good night, Ladybug." He made to extend his baton, but froze when his partner put a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, chaton. Can you sit with me?" She sat at the edge of the rooftop and beckoned for him to do the same. She saw the doubt in his eyes, but he eventually caved in and sat down. They stayed silent for a long time, looking at the moon playing hide-and-seek behind the many clouds in the autumn sky.

"What's wrong, mon minou?" She gave him a sidelong look and noticed his surprise.

"What do you mean, Ladybug? I'm good," he lied, but the way his gaze backed away from hers didn't convince her. It only made fear grip her heart in a vice.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" she asked bitterly. "You're a shadow of yourself. No more puns, no more nicknames, no more… anything that made you, well, you. I used to love patrolling, chaton. I don't anymore."

She glanced at Chat Noir's face and was surprised to see a jaded look in his gaze. "I thought you didn't like the nicknames, and the flirting." He started swinging his legs nervously and looked down, the frown on his face as harsh as the previous gleam in his eyes.

Ladybug sighed. "I just didn't like your timing. But, Chat, you know that I love your sense of humour. Please don't change the subject. What happened to my bubbly minou? I miss him so much." As she said that, her voice cracked and a single tear wormed its way down her mask. She looked at Chat Noir with glassy eyes—he wasn't completely unaffected by her breakdown. But there was something, something she couldn't quite put her finger on…

He looked up and changed his position to fall on his back. "I'm… tired," he said, but when he glanced at her, he noticed her disappointed look and sighed; she either didn't believe him or thought he was trying to dodge the question again. He sat up, slouching his shoulders and looking down. "I really am, LB. I'm tired of feeling like a sidekick. Of being just a clown to you."

"You're not!" spat Ladybug, but he didn't even look at her.

"Don't get me wrong, I understand that the pressure of being a Guardian can be too much; I'm happy that you share your new responsibilities with another full time hol—"

"Is this about Rena?" she interrupted him again.

He winced and held up his hand in a non-threatening, but firm, gesture.

"Sorry, LB. It's always been me and you against the world. I've been with you from the start, and you've always said that I was irreplaceable."

She cupped a hand to his cheek and shared with him a look full of longing. "You are, Chat Noir. I could never do this without you."

He pushed her hand away. She looked at him with hurt in her eyes, as he growled, "Then why do I feel that I've been replaced? She's been helping you with the grimoire and has been there for you in a way that makes me nearly suspect that she knows who you are." Ladybug paled and started fidgeting with her fingers. Chat Noir's gaze hardened. "I knew it."

He stood up and dusted off his suit with his gloved hands; then he picked his baton and extended it, his gaze icy when he turned around. "Sorry, Ladybug. I'm done playing second fiddle. I'll prepare my jokes for the next akuma attack, so you won't get bored. Good luck with Rena Rouge."

He didn't see her eyes filling with tears as he propelled himself away. He didn't hear her pleading whisper, to stay with her, to not leave her alone. He didn't see her crying through the night into her pillow, unable to sleep.

Her intentions were good, but… she had messed it up. She hurt him by strengthening the wall between them and turning it into a thorny prison to protect her heart. Because, now that she lost him, she realised that she loved her bubbly partner. He had sneaked his way into that prison, and captured her heart so subtly that she hadn't even realised, until now.

And now... it was too late.

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

Author's Note

I'm sorry guys… I suppose I'm in an angsty mood. Don't know where this came from. The plan was to have a fluffy and effervescent patrol. But Chat Noir didn't agree…

I hope you will like it anyway (she says as she picks from the floor the shattered pieces of her heart) and will leave me a comment. You know that comments are my bread and butter!

Until (hopefully) tomorrow, bug out!

#ladynoirjuly2021 #snippet july #miraculous ladynoir #miraculous love square #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #miraculous chat noir #ladynoir angst #angst warning #ml season 4 spoilers #post optygami

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

Text

pretty eyes.

you love diego hargreeves pretty eyes, sober and drunk off your rocker. only, when its the latter, it’s a little harder to hold back your eager compliments.

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WARNINGS & DETAILS: gender!neutral reader. mention of alcohol & drinking, some fighting later on in the chapter (it’ll make sense when it comes), idiots being idiots, mutual pining, a tad bit of angst. WORD COUNT: 6.5k NOTES: at the end (read please).

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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“DO YOU KNOW WHY THE SKY’S BLUE?”

Diego didn’t look back, but from the sounds of tiny pants and dull clunks of shoes hitting the ground, he knew enough to paint a picture. You, struggling to rid yourself of the coat he forced you to put on, dropping the heels you claimed you hated so vehemently, all the while probably grinning from ear to ear like he imagined little kids looked on Christmas Day. He knew you’d be waiting for his answer, just as you always did, expecting something greater than he could give you in his own flustered state.

Sometimes you were predictable. But he liked that about you.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“No, silly! I’m asking you!”

“Oh.” His tongue danced across his bottom lip, wetting the chapped skin before responding. “I dunno. Sorry.”

Only a sparkling laugh and a thump answered him. He whirled around to see you flat on your butt on the ground, staring up at him with drooping doe eyes. It would be an irresistibly pretty sight, if he knew it wasn’t from extreme inebriation and you were completely off your rocker at the moment.

Still, pretty.

“Help me up?” You laughed, waving your hands aimlessly towards him. “Puh-lease?”

Diego grimaced slightly but moved anyways. He grabbed at your hands (clammy, another symptom of your heavy drinking choices) and yanked you towards him. Only he overestimated you and greatly underestimated his own strength it seemed -- instead of lifting to your feet like any normal person, you practically flew towards him, landing just under his chin and flopping against his chest.

And Diego froze.

Normally he would have pulled away and shrugged it off as a mistake. Neither of you would mention it again and would move on with your lives, forgetting how close your bodies had been and the way your gaze was intoxicating upon itself. He had rules for those things; never getting too close to a friend who made his heart beat in a rather unfriendly way was one of them.

But as you looked up at him, still smiling dopily and eyes almost crossed, he couldn’t remember a single thing about rules or precautions or anything of the sort. All that was on Diego’s mind, was you.

Your smile softened a tad, painted lips closing over your teeth and only hinting at the dimples he had stared at many-a-time before. Up close, he could see flecks of black under your eyes, staining flushed skin with ebony freckles that no one could believe was natural. He didn’t know the word for it, but guessed it was from you rubbing at your eyes and forgetting you had painted them hours before. Despite it, you still looked absolutely radiant.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

Diego blinked, startled by your giggled statement. “W-what?”

“Sooo pretty,” you gushed. One of your hands left his chest -- he hadn’t even realised they had been pressed there, but he suddenly missed the warm sensation -- and caressed his cheek. He shuddered at the touch. “Maybe the pre...prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen!”

If merely standing near you was heart-attack inducing, Diego was certain that all this was going to explode the vessel. Any second at that point, it would just burst and coat your grinning face with its guts--

-- he shook his head, ridding himself of both that image and the foolish thoughts flooding around it. You were drunk. Everyone said and did stupid stuff when they were drunk. Right? Like the time he lost a fight with a lamp post -- he wouldn’t do that sober, but alcohol made everyone a fool. You just chose compliments over actions, maybe.

The saying ‘drunk words, sober thoughts’ lingered in his mind for half a second, but he pushed it away. That only worked in late night television or shitty rom-coms, not reality. Not with them.

“You should get to bed,” Diego said gruffly, pulling away from your fingers. He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment on your face, but tried to push it away for his own emotions’ sake. “You’re gonna want to, ‘fore all this hits.”

“You should smile more.”

Diego froze. He didn’t turn back to her that time, knowing it would only hurt him more, but he couldn’t bring himself to move another inch.

“Your eyes are fu...cking beautiful, but your smile?” Clapping echoed paces behind him; his jaw clenched with every smack. “Diego, you’re so pretty!”

He reached behind him blindly, scrambling and feeling stupid before finally launching onto you. Still avoiding your charming smile, he pulled you along, leading you out and into your bedroom. “I’ll be back to get you some Advil. Sit down.”

“I wish you’d smile more,” you said, completely ignoring every word he said. You fell down to your bed with a plop. “It lights up those pretty pretty, pretty eyes so much...so fucking pretty, Diego! I can’t even think of any other words, that’s how be-yew-tiful you are.”

“Okay, I--”

“-- and you always look so grumpy. It’s so funny!”

Diego should have been long gone, at that point. For his own sake and for yours, because you would hate that you rambled on so much, and he was going to pay for the emotional turmoil you were putting him through. But he couldn’t. He simply stood, still and awkward in your bedroom doorway, watching as you tried to twist your face to look like his own.

It didn’t work at all. Your lips fought angrily to smile again, and your eyelids just drooped, so far you looked stoned, or maybe like a zombie ready to bite. But even if you looked beyond ridiculous, his mind still screamed at how adorable it was, and despite himself, Diego smiled.

“See! See, there - there it is!” You pointed frantically at his own face, like he didn’t know it was there. “God, I wish I had a mirror to show you how pretty you are! Lil...lil sunshine boy!”

Okay, ‘sunshine boy’ was new. It took a little bit of the piss out of everything, and he was able to grumble and walk away finally from your singing self. Calls of his name paired with nonsensical titles followed. Diego tried his best to ignore them, but he knew the coos would haunt him later. Even as he searched for a glass, the sounds bounced through his head like injured bats in a cave; no way out and too blind to escape, forced to flit around endlessly until someone ended their suffering.

But Diego, unfortunately, did not know how to do that. So he simply bore the weight of your compliments knowing that they were nothing but sounds and syllables made up by a confused mind, trying to push through the night with as little baggage as possible.

As he walked back to your room, he sighed. This wasn’t how he planned things to go. It had been a good night -- sure, he might not have had as much fun as you looked like you were having, dancing and drinking and laughing, but at least he was with you. And he liked that, and the lax nature you took on when you drank, making him feel less pressure about constantly being the best version of himself. He hadn’t felt like he needed to put on a show, he was just Diego, for better or for worse. And somehow, you didn’t mind that.

He only wished that he could have more than that and all the time.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat after the word came out garbled. “Uh - got you this, you’re gonna want to drink it and take these now. Okay? And I’m putting these here for tomorrow morning, so you can take that as soon as you’re up. You got that?”

Your head bobbed up and down excitedly, but he knew you didn’t take in a word he said. So as you swallowed the tablets and gulped down the water, he scribbled out a note to remind you of what definitely went right over your head.

Diego paused, pen slightly trembling in his hand, before jotting down two more sentences. Thanks for last night. Had a good time being with you, as always. He hesitated, hovering over the slip of paper before cursing and scribbling out the lines with added violence. He tried again, being a little bit more poetic (which wasn’t much, but words really were not his thing) only to be disappointed again, pushing down on the pen so hard he was sure it would burst. Once he was sure nothing but scribbles could be made of the mess, he put the note under the Advil bottle and stepped away.

“You wanna change out of that?” He asked, gesturing to your clothes. “Doubt that’s comfortable.”

“Nah,” you drawled. You smiled up at him and even dared to wink (it was more of a sloppy, half-assed blink, but it still made his head swim). “I’m just comfortable. Do...you…’re you comfortable?”

Diego chose not to answer that. He pushed you back gently, deciding not to fight with you on changing and instead just going with sleep. You didn’t fight him much. If anything you leaned into it, holding onto his hands for seconds longer than you should and mumbling sweet nonsense up at him.

“You know,” you sang, “you know what, Di...Diego?”

He didn’t pause. “What?”

“I would do anything...and everything...in order to make you smile forever. You know? Anything.”

Those were the words that weighed heaviest on Diego’s conscience as he drove back to his place. It was as though they had erased everything else, anything that had happened that day or any time before and just left that in its place. He didn’t know why, but they stuck, and as he wove through the dimly lit streets, your voice floated about like a bodiless apparition, set to destroy his mind and drive him mad.

Diego had had his heart broken several times before. It happened almost easily in his childhood, normally by the hands of his vindictive father. He had learned how to patch it up, sew up the cracks and try to make it so it wouldn’t happen again, and eventually he got better at that. But it shattered again when Ben died, and he realised that they were just kids, forced to play heroes in a horrifically gruesome world they didn’t belong in. That took a while to mend, but he did, until he screwed up at the police academy and Patch left him too. After that he had let the fragments just sit in piles in his chest, digging at his ribs and leaving him winded after long nights in the cold darkness. He hadn’t cared; he thought that was what was expected of him. Nothing but a broken heart to hold him when the nightmares got too bad.

But when you came along, he didn’t have to stitch himself back together. You did it for him. Somehow without him noticing you had snuck into his chest and unravelled the poor stitchwork and blotted out the stains left that he hadn’t bothered to clean up. Over time, you had managed to make it almost brand new again, and it was a whole new experience of smiling and watching as you failed to finish your joke again, only because you were already laughing too hard. Of getting wasted on Wednesday’s when your job sucked more and dancing down the streets up to your apartment, uncaring of those who watched. Of you chiding him for the cuts and bruises collected from his vigilante expeditions, but always being there to wash them out and make a fresh pot of tea. Of you, merely existing, and allowing him to bask in your sunshine a while longer.

But hearing those soft words leave your drunken lips, spilling out like tar from someone so angelic, hurt. Diego didn’t think that was possible with you.

He sighed, turning down the street towards the gym. It would be a sleepless night again.

YOU WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING CONFUSED AND ACHING.

Not as much as you normally would be, which was a nice change of pace -- you assumed you had enough common sense to take premature headache meds, knowing how bad the hangover got for them. But your drunken self did not have the thought of changing out of your stiff, uncomfortable going-out clothes, instead draping yourself across the mattress smelling like the shitty bar you had careened in and leaving every part of your body pissed off. Sweaty fabric clung to your skin, leaving you feeling soggy and misworn and eagerly wishing you could have made better choices earlier.

You groaned and slipped out of the comforter, already missing its heavy warmth. Slowly you staggered over to your desk where you must have left the Advil for that morning. “Thank you, past me,” you sighed, twisting open the cap with a grimace.

A paper caught your eye, small amongst the stacks of work files you had yet to comb through. Downing one pill, you grabbed it, taking in the scribbled letters through tired, squinting eyes.

Leaving this for you because you’re too drunk to remember what I said. Take these and drink water before you die of a hangover. I’d hate to find your body that way. Also left your things on your kitchen counter, they’re not stolen. Also left your burrito in your microwave -- you insisted on buying one last night, so don’t forget about it. Take care.

Underneath were two lines of thick black scribbles, covering up whatever was written under that and leaving only a scrawled ‘Diego’ as your final clue. But, despite whatever mystery the pen covered up, you smiled and pinned the note to your bulletin board.

“Thanks, bud,” you grinned, speaking like he was there to hear. “Hope I wasn’t too annoying last night.”

You went about your morning with a smile despite the pounding pulverising your muscles, and enjoying the lazy Sunday hours spent cleaning up. You even spoiled yourself with a long shower, eating up your hot water minutes with joy, knowing you’d hate yourself for it two weeks later. After an hour of cleaning up, washing your face free of the makeup smudged across your cheeks and devouring that burrito left for you, you finally felt refreshed and better about things.

You glanced up at the time. Diego would be up, probably manning the desk for Al as he did most Sunday’s (the facet of his job he hated most). But, at least that meant he would be available to take your call. You missed him, even after seeing him just the night before, and selfishly craved the distraction of his low rasp. Maybe you could even make him laugh, cheer him up during his boring shift.

But five minutes later, you were left disappointed when none of the three calls went through. You tried not to think too hard on it -- he was a busy guy, and was either working or doing his other line of work, and ignoring your call meant nothing. Course, it probably didn’t look good for a boxing gym, but...you’d settle.

You would just call back later. He would definitely be available to talk then.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU LAST TALKED TO DIEGO, which was the longest either of you had gone without even speaking to one another in the history of your friendship.

On its own, the fact wasn’t so troubling. You were both working adults who had their own lives to sort through, jobs and bills and other friends that you didn’t like half as much as each other, grocery shopping and patrolling the streets alike, filling up both schedules easily. But the two of you were closer than that, and definitely more than just friends that saw each other every other week. You didn’t care about those friends like you cared about Diego.

And it hurt, that he was going to such lengths to avoid you.

Every time you stopped by his gym, Diego was gone. Al simply shrugged off your questions with a non-committal ‘I don’t keep track of the shithead’ and even when you went to knock on his door to check if he was lying, you got nothing. No regulars knew either, which was strange; he always liked to spend his afternoons training with a couple people, sometimes you if you showed up at the right time. You considered doing just that and waiting for him to show -- but even after hours of sparring, the man was nowhere to be seen.

You had tried everything, to the point where Al was annoyed and you felt like you were losing your mind. Surely Diego hadn’t just disappeared off the face of the earth. That didn’t seem right or possible and you knew you hadn’t made him up, because you had the pictures and notes to prove it. You could see his face, disgruntled and sometimes smiling in the photos you had snapped of him -- so why couldn’t you find it anywhere else?

With all options exhausted, you gave up for a few days, allowing yourself the chance to catch your breath. However, with that came the exhaustive process of trying to figure out why on earth Diego was avoiding you. And unfortunately, all that linked back to your last night spent together, and the bitter realisation that you must have fucked up the night somehow and left him not wanting to see you again.

And that thought broke you.

Thursday night was spent crying alone on your couch, trying to push past the depressing thoughts and failing miserably. You couldn’t remember half of what you did that night, but you knew he hadn’t been drinking as much as you, and alcohol always rendered you a ranting, rambling fool that he must have had to deal with. He had got you home, but for what? And what if it was all in that stupid note he had left you, scribbling out the real reason he was leaving you high and dry?

You threw the note out that night, staring down at it in the trash with tears pooling in your eyes. If only you could know why.

The issue was, Diego was more than just a friend to you. Sure your relationship had been built on totally platonic foundations, but it soon blossomed into so much more. He was a companion, your partner, the man who made you feel comfortable enough to wheeze into laughter-induced tears with, or just sob against his shoulder without feeling judged. He was the guy who brought you fast food when you forgot about dinner when work ran late, and the one who let you sleep over when you didn’t want to be alone. He made you smile by just being there -- like, you would open your door (or window, usually) and just grin like an idiot at the mere sight of his face. He was just Diego, but that meant more to you than you had ever been able to say.

Maybe, hell, you loved him. Was that so bad? It hadn’t been intentional to fall -- one day you had just been eating pizza on your countertop way too late in the night, and you looked over and realised your heart had only ever fluttered so violently for him. That he was the guy you could imagine spending the rest of your days with and never getting bored. Of course, you didn’t act on it, knowing that it was a platonic relationship and admitting such would destroy it completely -- but that didn’t mean your official break-up didn’t hurt any less.

You skipped work Friday, something you never did.

When your coworkers called, you wrote it off as illness related, while still drowning in the sorrow of being left high and dry.

Friends hit you up to make some ‘end of the week’ plans, but you ignored them.

You fell asleep at nine that night -- the earliest you had in aeons.

You stayed in bed for most of Saturday, staring at the ceiling or the photos pinned to your walls of the two of you, wondering if this was all just a weird dream you were going to wake up from.

Six hours later, you hadn’t woken up from your dream, but you had made up your mind.

One hour after that, at almost ten o’clock at night, you were rolling up to that same boxing gym you had haunted for that week, dressed in dark activewear and parked a ways away from the actual space. Steely-eyed and with your jaw clenched, you marched out the vehicle and into the building, knowing full well what you were going to find. You had a plan, and whatever it took, you were going to put it into motion.

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest plan, and maybe you had only just come up with it, with barely any time to consider it’s workability and whether or not you were just throwing words together, but nevertheless, you persisted.

You were going to get Diego back.

“DIEGO FUCKING HARGREEVES,”

The man, back turned away, stiffened and immediately went to move,

“run and I will end you, boy,” you growled, stomping towards him with force; he could practically feel each stomp echoing in his chest, cracking him down to the size of a pea. Somehow, he couldn’t move, frozen in place by your command. “Okay?!”

“H-hey, I--”

“--why the hell have you been avoiding me?!”

His eyes were wide and panicked and frantically, he searched all around for a way out. Unfortunately, your body in front of him blocked his only exit, leaving him stammering for answers you knew he didn’t easily have. “Look, I--”

“--I have been worried and scared and sad and out of my mind this entire week,” you snapped, jabbing a finger into his tank top, pushing him back in his steps. Your anger dug deep into him, thorns grabbing onto every bit of vulnerable flesh -- and the worst part was, you were absolutely right. “You know that? I have called everywhere I could -- I even called the police, wondering if you were in custody and I just missed that news drop. But no, you were just gone, avoiding me for who knows what reason!”

“I didn’t--”

“--what did I do, Diego? What happened, what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing.”

“Then why won’t you even look me in the eyes?” you hissed back, staring up at him in hopes he would catch your gaze. But he didn’t; his eyes still looked far away from yours, searching for something to give him a way out with. “You won’t even look at me, that’s how pissed off you are at me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get if I did something wrong, but you can’t just pull away from me like that -- this friendship isn’t built on shit like that. I can’t cope with this void left by you deciding you don’t like me anymore!”

“That’s not what happened,” he insisted, his own voice raising in volume. “I swear!”

“Then what, Diego? What possible reason could you have that isn’t related to me doing something wrong? Because that’s all the evidence I got out of this and unlike you, I have zero detective skills so I’m working on one freakin’ theory here!”

His eyes averted to the ground, staring down at the both of your feet, one pair tapping angrily and the other shuffling in hopes of escape. He felt himself folding in, a habit he had broken a long time ago with you, one he thought he had killed off forever. But apparently it hadn’t.

“You can’t even answer me,” you shuddered. Your sneakers squeaked against the shiny linoleum, leading you back a step. “You - I don’t understand this. At all. And you can’t even give me an answer why? D-don’t I deserve a reason for why I hurt you, Diego?”

“No, c’mon. I…” he hesitated once more as expected. Whatever he was planning on saying died in his mouth and thickened his tongue, leaving him once again stumbling for an excuse. He felt your eyes on him as well as his father, reproachfully clicking his tongue at once again, his stuttering, bumbling fool of a son. “I did...I didn’t…”

“Forget it. Screw this.”

“W-wait, don’t leave--”

“--I’m not leaving!”

He froze, holding onto your bicep in an attempt to stop you. Slowly, his hand fell away, “w-what?”

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, and slowly he watched as a devilish smile stained your cheeks, pulling away the angry lines of before. “I didn’t come here to leave, I came here for answers. And I guess I just have to fight you for ‘em.”

At that point, Diego’s head had been through the wringer so much, he felt like it could just pop off if he wasn’t careful. And yet still, his eyes bugged out and he stared at you in complete shock, unsure just how he was supposed to process that last sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

You shrugged like it was nothing at all, “c’mon. I know you’re better with the physical stuff and I wanna catch you off guard, finally get an answer out of you. I’m gonna, like, fight you for the truth.”

He watched as you toed off your shoes and shrugged off your thin jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with little care. You seemed ready, like you had planned this all along -- and had you? What was the reason behind all this? Was there something that he just wasn’t getting, in his state of emotional disarray? Or were you just losing your mind because of him?

“L-look, I’m s-sorry, but I,” he paused, trying to form the syllables in his mouth so they weren’t so thick and jumbled. “I can’t just fight you.”

“Sure you can. We spar all the time.”

“But w-w-why?”

Once more, your shoulders lifted and fell; ever the nonchalant dramatic. “Call it a bet. I win, you tell me why you avoided me for so long. And if you win, which you probably won’t but if you do…” you grimaced. “I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

Diego baulked. “I don’t want that.”

“Clearly you do,” you jabbed back. “Right?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

You huffed; clearly you didn’t believe him, but you also seemed set on the idea that you were definitely going to win, so he wasn’t sure where he stood in that. “Fine, pick your prize and keep it to yourself. I don’t care.”

Diego still hesitated, hovering to the side as you wrapped your hands. There seemed no way out of the situation, but surely there had to be - surely you weren’t just going to hop into the ring for an explanation.

Was this some ill-fated revenge?

You must have noticed his expression, because he heard you laughing from a whiles away. “I’m not looking to hurt you, Diego. Trust me, no matter what you do, I’d never want to do that.”

His heart fluttered.

“It’s just,” you cocked your head, thinking over your words before smiling again, “like you said when you first started training me. Freestyle, baby.”

You had deepened your voice tremendously to mock his own -- and while it was a horrible impression, it did call back to the one you did before of him. Not that you seemed to remember that, you had been piss drunk, but the thought still made him cringe.

All this, because of him. He screwed it all up and for what?

“Rules are the same as always. First person to pin the other down for more than five beats wins. No serious hits, so like, don’t break my nose or anything.”

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled, even as he stepped into the ring. “We don’t need to do this. We can just talk.”

You sighed and looked back at him. There was a fierceness in your eyes, a determination for something he wasn’t quite sure of -- like there was a plan in motion, only he couldn’t figure out where the steps lead. “I didn’t come here to walk away, Diego. I’m here to win a bet and get my friend back, and also kick his ass if I have to because I’m desperate. You can’t convince me to leave, so wrap your hands and let’s get this going!”

“But-”

“-it’s either this or I just stare at you until you crack,” you said, no longer smiling. “And I doubt you want that typ’a torture, do you?”

He stared at you askance. “Really?”

You didn’t answer him with words that time.

The fight was fast, and almost evenly matched -- you had a slight advantage with your eye on your prize, and he was faltering with every other blow knowing he couldn’t bear to hurt you. But the pace picked up and soon it was like you were one fluid being, predators locked on and desperate to claw the other away from them while simultaneously, drawing them back in. Fists flew and every so often he saw the sparks fly from the fire in your eyes, catching on everything he turned from and leaving him surrounded by the flames you spilled.

For a moment, Diego thought he had it. He had managed to pivot away from your last onslaught and pulled you away from the centre, edging into the corner where he could finally pin you down. His arms outstretched and for a moment he was actually smiling because it felt like the good old days -- sparring way too late into the night when he should have been working with the girl he secretly loved and the stars watching from way above, admiring the gruesomely pretty sight.

But in a flash, everything switched.

He lunged, you slid.

When he fumbled, your legs wrapped around his own, pulling him back and flipping over one another like beetles rolling in the hot sun.

You were everywhere, smothering his smoke with your body, forcing him down before he even realised what was happening.

Diego blinked, and suddenly you were on top of him, legs on either side of his waist and your hands holding his own up above his head. Your expression edged on feral as you grinned down at him, straddling him and fighting everything he pushed back with.

But he couldn’t fight back. Not when you were on him and everywhere and he could smell your shampoo as your hand dangled around him, dripping your scent around him like he was in that poppy field from Wizard of Oz, ready to give into the toxin and be one with the flowers. Your hands held his own and he wished he could slide his fingers into the clasp, holding them to him and kiss each bruised knuckle with tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. Your hips, legs, chest pressed against his own, both heaving and waiting for the other to move and interrupt the tension rising with every passing second.

“One,” you began, voice low and teasing. Did you know what you did to him? “Two…”

Diego writhed in your hold, but it was no use. You had him. He was yours and he would be satisfied to be so for the rest of your days, if only you never let him go. His gaze flitted across your face, tracing the way your eyebrows furrowed and relaxed with the numbers, eyes still wide and filled with emotions he didn’t quite know how to read. Sweat beaded on your brow and stained your cheeks and yet still, he thought you were as perfect as you could be, mere inches from his own darting eyes.

“Four...four and a half…” your smile grew and you got a little closer, almost touching his face with your own. “Five…”

He didn’t dare to breathe.

“I win, Hargreeves.”

But despite the hushed declaration, you did not move. Your body stayed over his, hands pushing his own down with gentle force but keeping him locked under you. Your eyes remained on his own, locking them in place as your face grew nearer. Soon enough your nose was just touching his own, nudging softly and turning so it fit better against his lips, which were parted and so close to pressing against your own-

-but you pulled away.

Just as Diego’s eyes had shut, your weight left his and he was left to sit up confused and watch you stomp away. You slipped out of the ring and down to the ground with a soft thump. He watched you unwrap your knuckles and to his surprise, he saw your hands shake with the movement.

“This was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear. “This was stupid, I have to-”

“-don’t go,” he mumbled. In one swift movement Diego had jumped back to his feet and pulled after you. You stumbled back a few paces; he raced after, hurrying to your side with an aggression he didn’t know he possessed. “Don’t go.”

“Diego, I-”

“-I pushed you away because I screwed up,” he said, all in one breath and so fast he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. “I messed this up. We’re only supposed to be friends, I know that, but I-I can’t not be in love with you, not when you’re that perfect and so beautiful and you make me smile e-even when I feel like the shittiest sh-sh-shit and-”

“-kiss me.”

“What?”

You stepped forward, angling yourself just under his chin. Your chest heaved. “Kiss me, asshole.”

And slowly his hands moved on their own accord, cupping your cheeks and holding you to him. His eyes darted down once, staring at the pink lips before reaching your own again for a silent affirmation. When you nodded in his hands he acted, pulling you to him quickly and pressing his lips against his own, finally.

It was fast and passionate, both beings pulling at the other, urging the other closer than the skin they already pressed against. His one hand left your jaw to hold your neck, angling your face so he could better caress it, smudging himself across your lips with little care. He felt your own touch against his back, sliding down to his hips and pulling -- without even thinking, he moaned, feeling your lower body roll up against him and leave his mind in overdrive.

You pulled away for air finally, gasping only to be pulled in again for a softer, gentler kiss. He pecked the corners of your mouth before finally taking your lower in between his teeth, biting softly before sucking on the tender swollen skin. He pulled away then, dropping his forehead to your own as you both took another breath.

“If…” you paused to inhale, grinning through the gasp of oxygen, “if I knew you were holding all that back, Diego, I would have kissed your ass a lot sooner.”

“I’m...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmured. He felt your hands leave his waist, pulling up to the one he still had cradled against your cheek. Your head leaned into the gentle touch. Even as your fingers held his. “I just...is this why you stopped talking to me?”

Diego shook his head softly against your own. Once more his heart faltered and threatened to burst, but he ignored it. “No, I just...I realised that I was-”

“-sorry, I don’t - you have an eyelash.” He froze as your fingers stroked his cheek, pulling away the evidence that had caught your attention. Your eyes darted up to his for a moment, and he watched as they widened and brightened under his perplexed gaze. “Your eyes really are pretty.”

His heart stopped for a beat.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s why I stopped!” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you then, gesticulating wildly around like the air was going to supply you with answers. “That’s why!”

You frowned, cocking your head like a lost puppy. “You...because of your pretty eyes?!”

“What? Wait, no, that’s not why.”

“I’m so confused right now, bud, and I just--”

“--last week,” he rushed, cutting you off before he could lose momentum again. “I took you home. You were wasted, and you kept talking and - and you told me I had pretty eyes.”

Still, you looked bewildered.

“I-I have been obsessed with you since the day I met you,” he said, soft and unsure if any of the words would come out right. Or if they themselves were the right ones to say. “I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t let myself act on it because I knew that it wouldn’t wo-wo-work out, you’d get mad and I’d lose you. I rathered having you as a friend, then losing you cause I was in love with you.”

“Love?” you questioned, barely a breath of a sound lingering between them.

“But that night, you went on and on and I realised then that I was too gone to keep it in. And I realised that you wouldn’t feel the same...and I didn’t want to hurt you, so I left. And…”

“Diego Hargreeves, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

His brow furrowed low, anger mingling with befuddlement on his flushed skin. “Hey, I-”

“-first of all, you really think I would just hate you because you thought of me as more than a friend?! Even if I didn’t like you - which I do, by the way - I wouldn’t do that, I value you too much. But second of all, you’re telling me that you never noticed how much I liked you back?!”

“I-”

“-I have felt like an idiot for the past year, holding in my feelings for you and wishing you could feel the same way. And when you left, I thought - I thought that was it, and that I screwed things up when I was drunk, which I guess I did but-”

“-you didn’t screw anything up, I did!”

“No you didn’t, I did! I’m the drunken initiator!”

“I shouldn’t have just left!”

“Okay, so we both screwed up!” you shouted, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. “But dammit, Diego, I have loved you for ages, and you - we - this is what it came to?!”

“Well, I-”

“-I can’t believe this!” you chortled. “All this time?!”

“I guess so,” he said, voice catching on the ‘so’. “I guess, yeah.”

“Holy crap.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

“I love you,” you giggled, breathless and still flushed, messy and beautiful in the shitty gym lighting. “I love you, Diego Hargreeves.”

His heart didn’t break. It didn’t even crack. Diego instead felt the slight twinge as the organ settled in his chest, content and buzzing with the panted cry. The breaklines of before didn’t feel so harsh, mended by your shiny eyes and swollen lips that he wanted to stare at until the end of his days. For once, his heart actually felt whole.

“I love you too,” Diego mumbled, smiling like a little kid. The muscles in his face, rusted over with age and disuse, groaned at the extreme grin but he kept it on anyways, smiling down at you with the strangest feeling of happiness coursing through his body. “A lot.”

And you beamed. “Have I ever told you, your eyes look like, a thousand times prettier when you smile?”

A/N: WHY DO I KEEP WRITING ALCOHOL BASED IDIOTS TO LOVERS FICS?? Have I any other creative thoughts?? Does this make me seem like that’s all I think about?? These are the thoughts that now run through my mind as I rush to post this...and truthfully, I don’t have an answer. I swear I’m a little more creative! I just...have a hankering for these things. Oops.

I wrote this weirdly super super fast and it’s super nonsensical, especially the middle bits? But I weirdly like it. I’m not sure. The plot is a ~little~ wonky but I’m rolling with it!

I’m open to make more stuff on here, I’ve gotten quite bad at it but I like writing these things as practice pieces. So, if you want to read more, requests are open and you can find a list of prompts (if you want them) in my masterlist. I’m putting out an updated list later on in the month, but I also am just open to have any sorts of requests. xx

(also as always - if you enjoyed and you want more, follow, reblog, and consider buying me a kofi! linked in my bio bc tumblr doesn’t like direct links on posts, please check it out if you’re feeling generous because I’m recently unemployed and any bit helps. but sharing this post and showing others the work is appreciated a great deal and i love you if you do!)

#diego hargreeves x reader #mine #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #hargreeves x reader #gender neutral reader

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