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schrodingerspsycho · 8 months

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Another Shot - Chapter 2

Pairing - Sam Carpenter x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, addiction, weed

Word Count - 5.1k

Summary - (Some of) the truth comes out. Tensions rise between you and Sam.

Chapter 1

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You couldn’t sleep. Of course, you couldn’t. Sam Carpenter was in New York City.

All the memories you’d tried so hard to repress had come flooding back in full force, washing over you like a tidal wave. It hurt more than you would’ve imagined. And that fucking look in her eyes. As if she had any right to be angry with you. It made your blood boil. God, you wished you could hate her.

But you couldn’t. Yes, the memories were bitter, but they were still oh-so-sweet. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back to that better time when she was by your side and you were happy, uncaring of how the broken glass cut your hands and knees along the way. Then you remembered that fucking face, and you knew you couldn’t do that either.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, which still ached from crying, and rolled over to stare at the clock. It was four in the morning. You wanted a drink. How ironic, Sam made you want to drink.

Instead, you opted for the one vice you still allowed yourself; weed. You stepped onto the balcony as you lit up, pulling your blanket tight around your shoulders. Just a few hits to help you sleep, you told yourself. The high would pass before your shift started. And just this once, you let that be a lie.

Luckily, you had an afternoon shift, and the weed was completely out of your system by the time you clocked in. Not that anyone would have cared, you wouldn’t be the first person to show up to work high. But you didn’t want to risk it. You couldn’t lose this job. So you made an effort to push Sam far from your mind and man the counter with a smile on your face. And it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her meddling little sister.

“Hey, Tara!” you smiled when she walked in. She waved back, clearly distracted. You took no notice, turning back to the lobby to go about your business. But Tara stepped out in front of you, blocking your path and nearly making you drop the menus you were carrying. “Shit! What the hell, dude? Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“I want to know what happened,” she said, ignoring you. “Sam wouldn’t tell me.”

You stared at her. “Are you serious? I told you to drop it.”

“You didn’t really think that was going to stop me, did you?”

You sighed. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe you were secretly dying to unload all the memories clogging your brain. And talking about your feelings was supposed to help, right? “If I tell you, you can never bring this up again, got it?”

“Got it.” She crossed her finger over her heart, excitement shining in her eyes. You hoped she wouldn’t regret asking for the truth.

“If you can get Jay to give us our breaks at the same time, I’ll tell you then.”

Tara nodded and rushed off to find your manager, finally leaving you in peace. Maybe after this, you would finally be able to put it all behind you. And if Sam didn’t want Tara to know… then perhaps you could relive it after all. Sure, it was petty. But after everything she’d put you through, you deserved to be a little petty.

Jay must’ve been in a good mood because he granted Tara’s request. She didn’t mention her sister again for the first half of the shift, choosing instead to gush about how Chad had surprised her by taking her out for breakfast that morning. You listened eagerly, glad to finally put a face to the name you’d heard so many times.

“He’s going to come in to have lunch with me tomorrow,” she smiled. “Are you working the morning shift? I want you to actually meet him. I think you’d get along.”

“Yeah, I’m working a double tomorrow. I look forward to it.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, and you grinned back at her. She’d only been working at the diner for two weeks, and she’d already become one of your best friends. You hadn’t grown so close with someone so quickly since… well, you knew where she got her charm.

Your break time seemed to arrive faster than ever, and you steeled yourself for your unorthodox therapy session as you made your sandwich. Tara was watching you like a hawk as if she expected you to run away.

“You sure you wanna do this?” you asked her. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“You have to know that only makes me more desperate to hear this story.”

“Fine,” you sighed. You led her into the break room and shut the door, making sure no one would overhear. She gazed up at you, her eyes wide and serious now as you sat next to her on the couch.

“Take your time,” she said softly. You nodded in appreciation, and with a deep, shuddering breath, you began.

“We met through a Facebook group four years ago. It was for young people in Modesto who were trying to get sober. Like a support group, but without the stuffiness of AA.”

“Wait, when you say sober, you mean-”

“Alcoholics,” you nodded, a grim look on your face. “Some people were addicted to other things too, and we did what we could to help. Mostly cigarettes, like your sister. She’d weaned herself off the harder drugs by that point, thankfully. We would have meetings in coffee shops and cafes, and sometimes people would host at their apartments during the week. Then we would all go out to clubs or parties together on the weekend.”

Tara stared at you, bewildered. “What? How is that helpful?”

“It wasn’t. The idea was that we would do all our drinking in one night and stay sober the rest of the week, but there weren’t any professionals involved. Most people at least thought they wanted to get sober, but we all wanted to drink more. It was still better than getting hammered every night, but not by too much.” You swallowed, and your hands started fidgeting; one of your nervous habits. You hadn’t spoken this much about your alcohol problems in a long time. “Anyway, that’s how we met. I don’t remember which one of us joined the group first, it’s been such a long time. I mean, your sister was still using a fake ID to get booze back then!” You chuckled at the memory. “But we became friends pretty quickly. Then we realized our apartments were only a neighborhood away from each other, so we started going to meetings together. And after about a year of being friends, we started- well…”

“You started dating?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “God, no. She never would’ve made a commitment like that. She was kind of infamous for it, actually.” You took a swig of your soda, hoping to dowse the heat you felt rising in your cheeks. “But we were probably the closest thing to it. We were together just about every other night, we knew each other better than anyone, she knew I wasn’t seeing anyone else and after a while, she stopped seeing other people too. Pretty much all we would’ve had to do was say the words. But that was the problem. She never wanted to talk about anything real. Her past, her feelings, our relationship, nothing. I knew who she was, but I didn’t know anything about her. And believe me, when you drink with someone for that long, you get to know them really well. She knew how I felt about her, how much I cared for her, and she just wouldn’t reciprocate. But I told myself that being with her was enough. And maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I don’t even remember.”

“Then what happened?” Tara asked, her voice small.

“About a year into us being… whatever we were, there was… an incident. We went out together, without the group, to a house party. That I invited her to. And we were having fun, y’know, drinking, dancing, just having a grand ol’ time. Then she asked me to go to the bar to get her another shot.” You ran your hand through your hair to try to quell the agitation bristling in your chest. “It took me two minutes to push through the crowd, get the drinks, and come back. Two minutes. But when I came back, she was… she was…” Angry tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from Tara. You hated that it still had such a hold on you, even after all this time.

Tara laid a shaking hand on your back and you let out a strangled sob. Why was this so fucking hard? You felt like you were back there, the pounding of your heart drowning out the loud music, your vision blurring, the taste of vodka burning your throat, and the feel of your stomach dropping down to hell.

“She was making out with someone else,” you croaked. Tara’s hand stilled, and from the corner of your eye, you saw her mouth open in a silent gasp. “It was some- some guy. Just a random, boring-ass guy. She didn’t even know his name. And when I asked her what the hell she was doing, she laughed. Like it was all just some big fucking joke.” Your fists were clenched, and you could feel your fingernails digging into your palms. Then the tears finally began to fall. “She told me we were nothing. That I meant nothing.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Tara breathed. You leaned back against the couch and wiped your eyes, chuckling in spite of yourself.

“We were both drunk and angry, so what happened next is kind of a blur. But we started shouting at each other, and I think I was crying. I don’t know. Then she slapped the drink out of my hand and spat in my face.”

“She what?” Tara uttered, appalled. You laughed again. It was a sinister sound, but Tara didn’t seem to notice and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“That was actually the most normal thing she did that night,” you said, to Tara’s growing horror. “She’s an aggressive drunk, and it was far from the first time she’d spat at me. But she’d never done it as an insult before.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tara said. You finally turned to look at her.

“I want you to know, I’m not trying to make you think badly of your sister or anything. I think it’s great that you’re talking again, and I would never do anything to hurt your relationship. I’m just telling you my side of the story.”

“I know,” Tara assured you. “Thank you.”

You shook your head. “I’m not even upset that she didn’t feel the same way. I just wanted her to be happy, and we weren’t even together. But she just had to let me down in the cruelest way possible. She knew how much she was hurting me, and she did it anyway. With a smile on her face.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Tara grumbled, and you gave her a brief smile. “So what happened after that?”

“Well, I went home, and the next day I found out she had blocked me on everything. She even left the Facebook group. And the next thing I know, I hear she’s calling this guy her boyfriend and switched to a new shitty, minimum-wage job so she could work with him. She led me on for a whole year, then committed to him in one night. I lost my partner and my best friend at the same time. In two fucking minutes.”

You sat in silence for several moments, the conversation weighing heavily on both of you. When Tara finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it wasn’t easy for you to relive it. I’m sorry she did that to you, and I’m sorry that I’ve brought it all back-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you insisted. “She’s your sister, and you can’t help that I have a history with her. What happened with us- whatever happens with us- none of it is your fault.” She nodded, but the look in her eyes told you she didn’t believe it. “She told me about you, y’know.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yeah. I could never get her to talk about herself, but if you got enough alcohol in her, she wouldn’t shut up about her baby sister.” You grinned at Tara, and she smiled back. “You’re exactly the way she described you.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s a compliment,” she chuckled. Then her expression turned serious. “I really am sorry that she did that to you, Y/N. It’s… it’s horrible. But I can promise you, Sam’s changed. She’s sober now, and she’s reliable. She’s done so much work to be a better person. She would never do something like that now.”

You gave Tara a sad smile. “I’m happy to hear that, I really am. But I’m going to need her to prove that to me herself.”

“C’mon, Mindy, let’s go.”

“Can’t we just stay in our rooms? We won’t interrupt-”

“No.”

“She said she’d tell us later, let’s just give them some space.”

“Fine.”

Sam put down her book. The twins had been quietly doing their homework on the couch for the last hour, giving her a much-needed respite after the back-to-back six-hour shifts she’d worked at her two jobs today. But now their hushed voices roused her, drawing her from her room in time to see Tara ushering them out the door. “Hey, how was work?” she asked nervously. She didn’t like the serious look on Tara’s face.

“It was fine,” she said with a sigh. “We need to talk, Sam.”

Sam felt her heart rate spike, and her mouth went dry as her palms started to sweat. Truthfully, hearing those words from Tara was more terrifying than the five Ghostfaces she’d faced. She nodded numbly and took a seat at the kitchen table, following Tara’s lead.

“Y/N told me what happened between you two,” Tara began, and Sam’s breath hitched. She knew she should’ve expected this, but it caught her off guard all the same. “I don’t believe they would lie to me, but I have to ask… did you really cheat on them? After leading them on for a year?”

“Yes. I did.” Sam felt like crying. Having you as a reminder of her mistakes was bad enough, but now Tara was judging her too. She wanted to beg you both for forgiveness, but she knew she didn’t deserve it.

“Jesus, Sam,” Tara groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That’s really shitty. Do you know how broken up Y/N still is about it?”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I’m not mad at you, Sam.”

“You’re… you’re not?”

“No,” Tara said with a small smile. “I’ve forgiven you for worse. And I know you’ve changed. We don’t need to talk about what happened.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

Tara grinned. “Do you still love them?”

“What?” Sam stared at her, shocked. “Who-who said anything about love?”

“Okay, fine. Do you still like them?” she corrected, rolling her eyes.

Sam gaped at her as her cheeks started to burn. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Y/N doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I need to respect that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Did you see how they looked at me?” she deflected, beginning to sound choked up. “They hate me. And they have every right to.”

“They don’t hate you, Sam,” Tara said kindly, placing a comforting hand over her own. “Trust me. Yes, they’re hurt. Really hurt. But they wouldn’t be if they had moved on.”

“Or if I hadn’t cheated on them and treated them like shit,” Sam mumbled. She leaned against the table and put her head in her hand. Just like mom.

“I think you were wrong,” Tara said, ignoring her. “There is something you can do about it now.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“You can apologize!” she smiled.

“You don’t really think it’s that simple, do you?” Sam scoffed. “Apologizing doesn’t just make things go away, Tara. Not something like this. It won’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it will,” she said softly. “It’ll show them that you’ve changed and that you know it was wrong to cheat on them. It’ll let them know that you’ll be a better person if you start talking again. I mean, sure, it’s not gonna fix everything right away, but it would be a start.”

Sam shook her head. “That’s not enough. It wouldn’t be enough.”

Tara sighed. “Will you at least answer my question?”

“What question?”

“Do you still have feelings for Y/N?”

Sam stood up abruptly and turned away from Tara. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. “Where did you send the twins off to?”

“Seriously, Sam? Are you really just going to ignore me?”

“I was thinking I could make spaghetti for dinner, does that sound good?”

Tara glared at her incredulously. “You are unbelievable,” she said, standing up and stomping toward her room. She slammed the door, and Sam stared at it for a long moment. Despite everything, Tara was an optimist, and Sam admired her for it. But two little words wouldn’t mean anything in the face of what she’d done to you. No matter how much she wished it could.

After telling Tara the truth, the rest of your shift had felt awkward, with both of you staying uncharacteristically silent when you weren’t talking to customers. But luckily, everything was back to normal the next morning. You had teased her for being a few minutes late, she teased you for always arriving early, and you passed the time by joking around like you always did. She once again asked Jay if you could take your breaks together, and he once again obliged.

“Dang, he must really like you,” you smiled at her. “He never would’ve said yes if I asked him.”

She shrugged. “I’m very likable.”

“Yeah, you are. Little manager’s pet.”

“Maybe I’ll ask him not to give you a break at all.”

“What, am I suddenly not good enough to meet your boyfriend?”

“No, I’m excited for you to meet him,” she grinned. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

“Then it sounds like we’re all excited. It’s going to be a very exciting lunch break.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, nudging you playfully as she went to make another pot of coffee. Usually, it was all the customers ordered at this time of day, which made the morning shifts more bearable. You were able to hang out and talk with each other while they finished their nearly forgotten homework and nursed their hangovers, frying up some eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns every now and then. It made the time fly, and soon Jay was calling you and Tara to go on break.

Chad arrived just as you finished making your food, announced by Tara’s squeal of delight. She ran to him and leapt into his arms, and he spun her around gleefully. The few customers in the lobby didn’t even look up from their phones.

“Y/N, get over here! I want you to actually meet Chad!” Tara called, beckoning you with her hand. You smiled and headed over, your tray of food in hand.

“Shouldn’t you let him order first?”

“No, it’s fine. He doesn’t need to eat,” she smirked. He gave her a look of feigned offense.

“Excuse you, I’m very hungry. I ate a very light breakfast so I would have room for an amazing lunch made by my beautiful girlfriend.”

“I’m not gonna make your food, I’m on break,” she said, turning to face him. “That was really stupid of you to not eat.”

“Well, then what did I come here for?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You’re breaking my heart, you know that, Tara? You’re breaking your boyfriend’s heart.”

“Oh, please, you eat enough of my cooking at home,” she grinned, leaning in closer.

“Anyway, I’m Chad! It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled, looking up quickly when he remembered you were there. Tara blushed.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N. Tara’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Mostly.”

He grinned. “Well, I’m going to go order some food made by a stranger, and then I’ll join you.”

Tara stuck her tongue out at him as he left, and you followed her to the table where she had set her food. “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly as you sat down.

“Don’t worry about it. You two are adorable.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Chad joined you once again. “Alright, where were we?” he asked, sliding into the booth next to Tara. You looked at his tray and smirked at her. He’d ordered exactly what she’d said he would.

“You were about to tell me about yourself,” you prompted. He smiled.

“Well, I’m Tara’s amazing boyfriend who’s known her since we were five, I’m studying sports medicine at Blackmore, I was the offensive lineman on my high school football team, Mindy is my twin sister, and my favorite Pokémon is Meganium. What else do you want to know?”

You laughed and Tara raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s certainly an introduction,” you remarked.

“What? Those are important things to know about me!”

“They sure are, babe. You’re doing great,” Tara said, patting his arm.

“And you said you go to NYU, right? What are you studying?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t start until next year, but I’m going to study photography. I actually can’t wait to start classes, I’ve been saving up for it for years.”

“That’s really cool! What kind of photography do you do?”

“I want to study different kinds, but I love taking pictures of little moments in regular life. Like the little things that no one notices, the things that tell stories. Candid photography, I guess.”

“That sounds really interesting! I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

“Thanks! Yeah, Tara’s been wanting me to show her my portfolio.”

“And yet you keep denying me!” she accused.

“I’ve told you, they don’t look good on my tiny phone screen!” you replied. “I can’t exactly bring my laptop to work, can I?”

“I’m sure we can figure out a time when we can all see your amazing pictures,” Chad said, putting his arm around Tara.

“Yeah, maybe,” you mumbled, blushing a little at the praise. “It’s cool that you were able to go to the same college. And your sister, too. That must be really fun for you guys.”

“Yeah, we’re really lucky we found a place that has a good sports medicine program for me, a poli-sci program for Tara, and a film program for Mindy. Although, we probably would’ve gone to the same school no matter what. It’s important that we stick together. After all, we can’t split up-”

“Do not say it,” Tara scolded him.

“-the Core Four!”

Tara punched him in the chest and he swooped down to kiss her cheek.

“What is the Core Four?” you asked.

“Me, Tara, Mindy, and Sam! It’s what we call our little squad.”

“It’s what you call us,” Tara retorted. “He comes up with these stupid nicknames and doesn’t listen to us when we tell him they’re terrible.”

“Oh, c’mon, you secretly love my nicknames. Don’t you, Taradactyl?”

She looked appalled. “Yeah, that’s an immediate no.”

“But I thought you liked that one!”

“I absolutely do not. Get away from me.”

“Whatever. You like Core Four. You’ve said it.”

“I have not!”

“Yes you did, Sam told me,” he said smugly.

“Lies and slander.”

He stole one of her fries and she tried to shove him out of the booth, a goofy grin on her face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics.

“You two are very entertaining,” you commented.

“Are you making fun of us?” Tara demanded, still grinning.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Not at all. Having a similar sense of humor is important in a relationship. You two seem perfect for each other.”

“Why, thank you, Y/N. I’m glad someone thinks so,” Chad said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you thought we were perfect for each other, then you would support my nicknames.”

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, leaning back against him. He kissed the top of her head before turning back to you.

“Speaking of relationships, are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” you smiled. “I only moved here a couple of months ago, so I haven’t really had time to meet anybody.”

“Then we need to get on that!” he exclaimed. “We don’t want you to be lonely! I’m pretty sure we know someone your age who you’d get along with. What are you, twenty-four?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m twenty-five, and it’s rude to ask.”

“You’re absolutely right, it is rude. I’m sorry. But you know what, Tara’s sister is right around your age, and she’s single too! Her name is Sam, she’s the absolute coolest, and- hey, didn’t you say you knew her already?”

You shot Tara a look of disbelief, but she avoided your gaze. “I do know her. I was just talking to Tara about her yesterday. And you know what, I just remembered that Sam once showed me some of her baby pictures.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t stop talking about you,” you said pointedly. “It’s all coming back to me now. Little baby Tara… in the bathtub…”

“Okay, okay! We’ll stop talking about Sam!” Tara cried, her face bright red. You smirked at her.

Shouldn’t have broken your promise, you thought. At least she had the decency to look guilty.

The conversation carried on normally after that, with you and Chad discussing your favorite action movies and comic books. Tara was right, you did get along well. As it turned out, he had already seen the movie you were looking forward to seeing this weekend on your rare Saturday off. Tara had to quiet him before he accidentally spoiled it in his excitement, but he gave it a rave review. It was enough to distract you from the fact that Sam was apparently single again, at least for a little while. And when Jay called you back to work and you bid your goodbyes to Chad, you decided that it had indeed been a very exciting lunch break.

Sam found herself spending her Saturday off at the movies. She hadn’t been to a theater in months for obvious reasons, but Tara knew she wanted to see the new comedy that came out this weekend and convinced her to go. She was anxious like she always was when she was out in public, but she was glad to be spending some quality time with her sister. Saturday matinees used to be their thing, and Tara still bounced on her heels while she waited for her popcorn like she did when she was little.

But something seemed off with her as they walked toward the theater. She kept glancing behind her as if she was looking for something. But before Sam could ask her what was wrong, Tara spun around and slammed into her.

“I think the popcorn needs more- fuck!”

Sam looked down to see the front of her hoodie covered in Tara’s soda.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Sam!”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “It was an accident, I’ll be fine. At least it didn’t get on my jeans.”

“Here, I’ll take the popcorn and save our seats. You go get some napkins and clean yourself up,” she said, gazing up at her apologetically. Sam nodded and handed her the bucket.

She pulled the sticky hoodie over her head as she walked, thankful that she had worn a tank top underneath it. And the theater still had the heat on despite the warming weather outside, so she wouldn’t be cold. It was still shaping up to be a pretty good day.

But before she could reach for the napkins, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you said as you looked up from your freshly buttered popcorn.

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see a fucking movie, obviously,” you hissed. Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I should’ve known,” she mumbled, her gaze drifting to where Tara was spying on you from around the corner. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Dammit! That sneaky little- I never should’ve told her my weekend plans.”

“What the fuck did you just say about my sister?”

“Oh, you know damn well this isn’t about Tara! This is about us, and what you did- oh my god!” You had finally turned to look at her, and your eyes immediately went to her arms. Not because her biceps were even more muscular than you remembered, but because of the long, raised scars on her right shoulder and collarbone. Any anger you had been feeling dissipated, replaced with worry and a deep-seated need to protect. “What happened?” you asked softly, instinctively reaching out to comfort her. She flinched back, her eyes startled and scared, and you lowered your arm. She stayed silent, just standing frozen and staring at you like a lost puppy. It made your heart melt, just like it always did. “Sam, are you okay?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” she snapped after a beat, her expression hardening back into the look of contempt you were starting to get used to. You glared right back at her.

“Fine. I don’t even know why I care,” you snarled. Her scowl faltered, but you just scoffed in disbelief and stomped away. That devilish woman may still have a cruel grip on your heart, but you wouldn’t let her see it.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here! How are you?” Tara called, running up to you. But you kept walking, your only response a look of disapproval and hurt.

“What the hell was that?” you heard her demand from Sam. “Why won’t you just apologize to them?”

“I told you, I can’t do that.”

Your vision blurred as you stepped out of earshot, her words hammering the final nail into the coffin of something that died long ago. You knew Tara meant well, but she’d taken it too far. You tried to focus on the movie as you entered the dark theater, but you knew no amount of explosions could save your ruined day.

All because of two minutes with Sam fucking Carpenter.

Taglist: @smut-religiously777

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream #enemies to lovers #scream fanfic #fanfic #another shot

323 notes · View notes

sprite-writes-fanfic · 2 months

Note

hey so how can I get a scenario of Leo 2003 starting to cry but he trying to keep it together cuz he has had stressful day and his s/o comes up and hugs him, doesn’t even say anything just a comforting, welcoming, homely hug?

When Words Fail.

🐢💙Leonardo (03) x Reader💙🐢

Word Count: 904

CW: Gender-neutral reader, referred to as ‘you’, angsty, reverse comfort for Leo, mentions of Raph getting injured, mentions of blood, Leo having a hard time coping.

💙💙💙💙💙

A mission gone awfully wrong, that’s what started it all. A mission that made everything fall apart and what stirred these negative emotions inside Leo that he tried so hard to hide within the deep crevices of his mind. Meditation would’ve usually helped in this moment, sitting down and trying to clear his mind and sort out his thoughts, but how can he do that when he’s failed as a leader today? Not even talking to Splinter about this could help, how could he talk to his father about this? Splinter made him the leader and set him role for a reason, and knowing that he’s failed his father, he couldn’t bear to face him.

The mission went badly, and he nearly lost Raph today because of it. They were stopping a couple of Purple Dragon punks from robbing a local antique store, until a sudden ambush of The Foot was thrown into the mix catching them all off guard. And Raph, being so headstrong, dived head first into fighting the Foot basically all by himself. And with his brothers already being preoccupied with their own fights, overwhelmed by the suddenness and growing numbers, they almost weren’t able to make it to Raph in time when a Foot ninja was able to stab him with their katana, stabbing right through his side. His plastron broken and blood pouring out of him, he still fought until the turtles were finally able to diminish the number of enemies they were fighting off.

After the fight was done, Leo was the first at Raph’s side, panic flooding his veins as he sat on his knees next to his fallen brother. Raph was gripping his side pressing his hand against the gaping wound, sweat coating his green skin as he struggled to not falter. Leo, being a quick thinker, pulled out the bandages from one of his belt pouches, quickly stuffing it to clog up the bleeding, and wrapping it in order to keep the clog inside. “DONNIE! MIKEY!” Leo yells for his younger brothers, who were already rushing to his side, “We need to get back to the lair, NOW!” He would put Raph’s arm around his shoulders, helping him stand as a pained groan left the turtle’s beak. Mikey rushed over and was quick to take Raph’s other side, and basically carried him all the way back to the lair.

Once the turtles made it back, Donnie had led them to his lab, instructing them to get Raph laid out on his table so he could work on his wound. Mikey was the one to stay by Raph’s side, talking him through the whole process while Leo couldn’t bear to stay and watch. He felt guilt and shame for letting this happen, to let something he could’ve been able to prevent from happening if he just stepped in sooner. That’s what he thought at least… In reality, he couldn’t step in at all, not when he was already surrounded, but those logical thoughts never came to mind. All he could think about was how he could’ve been able to save Raph from this pain.

After hearing the commotion, and checking in with Donnie to see what was happening, he was able to give you a brief summary of what happened as he worked on Raph’s wound. “The Foot ambushed us.” He states, his expression darkening as he looked down at Raph, who had passed out, “We weren’t able to get to Raph on time before he got stabbed.” He mutters, finishing up the stitching that needed to be done, “I know Leo’s taking it hard.” He sighed, “You should go see him.” And with that, you left the lab, and found Leo standing in the living room, deep in thought. You finally approach him, your hand reaching out and rubbing his arm, his arm twitching under your touch before he slowly turns his head towards you.

“Hey.” You greeted softly, looking up into his face, seeing the devastated look that he tried so hard to hide for your sake and his own. “Hey…” his voice cracked, making your heart ache. You could hear the devastation and pain in his voice, as he struggled to hold himself together, before you’d finally envelop him in a warm hug, saying softly, “Welcome home.” He froze up, before his body trembled, biting his lower lip as he tried to hold back his tears. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly as he buried his face into the crook over your neck, hot tears pouring down his cheeks as you could hear a small sob escape him.

You knew that all you could do for him in this moment was hold him, no amount of reassuring and comforting words could help him now, not when he felt like this, not when his mind was already full of these thoughts of failure. So when your arms wrap around his trembling figure, to provide him comfort, he couldn’t help but fall apart in your arms. He needed this and he needed you. And he was lucky that he had you… You were his rock, and you were his hope. And he always knew he could count on you to be there for him, to be his shoulder to lean on, to cry on, and to rest on, and for that he’ll always be grateful for you and will express that each and everyday.

#sprite writes #fanfic #tmnt x reader #tmnt #fanfiction #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 x reader #2003 leo #2003 leonardo #leo x reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leonardo #leonardo hamato

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rottedberries · 9 months

Text

One of One: Part 1

Summary - It's been two months since Astarion has left your camp since that night in Cazador's palace where everything went wrong. In the events of severely misguided judgement you find yourself bleeding out in a dark alley, in his arms one last time, spending your last fleeting moments with him.

Tags - Hurt / comfort, angst, depictions of death and dying, happy ending, vampire tav, nb tav

Notes - I accidentally picked the wrong option when trying to talk Astarion out of the ascension, and got told to die before he left my party forever. Me and my sister couldn't stop thinking about him regretting his actions once he came back to his senses and soon after this piece was born. I wanted it to be a short 3k piece, but as always I went overboard. There will be a part 2, but hopefully for now this will suffice.

Word Count - 5,832

AO3 Link

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

He left, and he was gone. You tried to not act like a dog, a lovesick puppy waiting for its owner to return home, but you couldn’t help yourself. Ever since that night in Cazador’s palace, your dreams had been filled with nightmares, and wishes that had yet to come true. Waking up to find the red tent adorned with gaudy pillows and spilled goblets of blood that you loved oh so much, back in the place that it belonged in your camp. But instead, all that laid was an empty spot where the drops of rain soaked the ground underneath leaving a stench of mud and rocks. Completely washing away whatever of Astarion’s scent used to linger.

It was because of that empty spot, the more you looked at it, the more your head span. You could only focus on your mistakes of that night, and everything that went wrong. If only you had tried harder . There could have been better words to say, now that everything was over and done with. Hindsight was 20/20, but in the moment it seemed like every thought, every word died out on the tip of your tongue as fast as you tried to will them out of your mouth.

In front of you, was someone you loved, overcome with want and power. So toxic that it clung to the air in thick waves in a way that made the blood spilled from the enemies just defeated more potent than before. When you found yourself staring into Astarion’s eyes, you couldn’t see the man that you were talking to outside the palace a few hours prior. His eyes now bright with bloodlust, yet empty…with something else, lying there underneath the surface. Something you couldn’t quite pick out as much as you tried. And as you stared at him, trying to decipher it, Astarion just stared back…begging, in a voice so demanding, yet childlike…so desperate.

The emotions flooding the room, the thoughts clouding your head, it was too much for you to wrap your head around. Fear clogged up your throat, and airways, making the simplest breaths the hardest to gasp for. You couldn’t find rhyme or reason to deny him. There was no logic in your brain that could describe why this was wrong , you just knew it was.

Instead of trying to reason, to beg, to reach out to that scared boy trapped in a body adorned with 200 years worth of scars, you stood still, and denied. Giving no reason, just your feet planted firmly on the ground, not even finding it in yourself to move or reach out.

And he begged . He begged even harder than he had before…the softest ‘ please ’ falling from his lips.

Yet you still found yourself saying no.

Then it was all over. You watched as Astarion dug his fangs into Cazador’s neck, drinking up his blood before driving a knife into his heart over and over and over again, screaming with every pierce and new puncture wound. All that was left was a room stained in blood, and anguished cries that pierced your heart so deep you found pressure building behind your eyes, threatening to let loose as well. And what came after were words filled with hatred, an expression forever burned into your memory that you still see it every time you close your eyes.

‘ I’m done with you. I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.’

You tried, you really did try to get Astarion back after that. Your feet were finally able to move, and you pushed them as hard as you could, as fast as you could go. Your hands outstretched, trying to grab onto his shoulder, arm- the waistline of his pants. But he didn’t care, he didn’t even spare you a look; just carelessly shoved you off of him and left.

That was the last time you had seen him.

You don’t have the exact date of the last time you saw him, but it had to have been at least a month by now…maybe two. With Astarion’s bright and sardonic personality missing from the camp, it seemed like the days had started to blend together. While you still had the rest of your party, and you were thankful they were alive and well, you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you had driven out the one person you cared for most.

Since then, you had become brash, reckless, and careless. A part of you couldn’t tell if it's because you wanted to punish yourself for being a horrible leader, or if you’d simply lost the ability to care about the world saving adventure you had found yourself on.

Lae’Zel had already had more than a few choice words for you, and recently it seems they were getting stronger and more rude as time went on and the more you kept messing up. Everyone else barely bit their tongues either. Even someone like Shadowheart who had been with you when it happened, getting a first hand show at the fight that took place, was starting to get fed up with you. Her temper becoming shorter, until she had finally found you and cornered you against a wall in camp last night.

“We’re all going through our own problems while also having to deal with the Absolute, and you have been nothing but supportive and helping with everyone here- I’d probably be dead without your guidance.”

She started off, it was something small and sweet, which only made you dread her words when she continued the rest of her sentence.

“And I want to be there for you too while you deal with your own pain- but quite frankly, you’re going to get us killed at this point. I didn’t make it this far to have someone make some brain dead decisions right at the end.

I am more willing to lend an ear, to help in whatever way I can, but if you don’t reach out and proceed on this suicide mission then I’m out…and I’m sure a lot of the others are going to be too.”

There was a pause of silence, you could barely meet her eyes, let alone reply. Whatever choice she gave you to reply and defend yourself, you didn’t take. You just let her keep going.

“I don’t know what you and Astarion had going on, but it was obviously something very special. It sucks that he’s not around anymore, but if you let this cost your life- cost everything we have worked for up to this point - then I have severely misjudged your intelligence and your priorities. Get it together.”

With her lecture out of the way, she was gone, stalking off back towards her tent.

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be angry at her words and accusations. Because she wasn’t wrong. And you had been anything but a leader for the past few months, yet somehow your team stayed. Though all those thoughts met little nothing to now and you wished it did.

It was another day, or night technically, and it had been one of the best ones in awhile. Taking Shadowheart’s words into consideration, you tried your best to be better. It was obvious your mind still wasn’t in it all the way, but at least the day had passed without any misjudged bow shots into your teammates backs instead of the enemies; or conversations that turned into fights when they could’ve easily been schmoozed out of.

Dinner had recently ended, and everyone had retreated to their tents or their cots for the night. You found yourself on your back, staring absently at the night sky, heavy with dark rain clouds, threatening to spill torrential rain at any second. The cold chill of an upcoming storm was already blowing itself through camps, lifting up tarps and trying its best to put out the campfire. You were already restless tonight, but the howling of the wind only made it worse. Every sharp sting of air flying past you and biting at your face only made it harder, every time you tried to slip your head under the blanket you just ended up feeling claustrophobic and suffocated. There was no winning.

So you were left with your head outside, facing the cold night. Every few minutes you would toss back and forth on your sides, and on your back. You’d sit up, fluff your pillow, and lay back down somehow more uncomfortable than before. You did everything from trying to count sheep, to singing your favorite songs in your head to get yourself to relax. After a couple hours though, it was no use. The rain started not long ago, but the soft pitter of the drops on the ground was a hindrance to your focus on sleeping instead of a welcomed white noise. When it was obvious that you weren’t sleeping for a while, you saw no point in keeping on trying. The fire has burnt down to its bare embers, it was cold and dark and suddenly you were craving the warmth of the indoors and maybe an alcoholic drink to really warm the cold emptiness that lingers inside your chest.

It's with that thought that creeps up and lingers in your brain for the majority of the hour that finally gets you up, urging you to slip on your shoes and grab your backpack, slipping in some gold and your journal. Your camp clothes will have to do for now, as you don’t see much of a point to get properly dressed in your gear to go sit down and drink somewhere. It’s after you have everything packed up when you grab a hooded cloak from your chest and leave the camp quietly, adventuring back to the lower city.

You arrive at the pub just in time for the rain to change from a steady downpour of small drops to a cacophony of large wet globs pelting against the windows and roof top, making itself heard even over the cheering and loud laughter of everyone's drunken banter. You slip inside easily enough, removing your hood once you’re fully inside. It only takes a moment to take in the sight in front of the you- red faced patrons clinking their mugs and letting sour liquid spill onto their hands. The strong scent of alcohol seeping from everyone's breaths mixed with the fresh cooked food swimming through the air. There’s a mixture of singing and dancing as everyone is in high spirits, but also hushed, serious conversations taking place in the corner of the room. Passed out strangers, sleeping away the night with their head in their arms at the tables tucked away.

This was perfect.

Busy enough that the background of people will keep your mind from wandering to unwanted thoughts. It also meant no one would pay attention to you.

“What will it be?” The bartender asks as you make your way up to the counter. Her lips are pursed, she looks tired, and a bit on edge. It was obvious her shift had been going on for too long, but she was trying her best to keep a friendly facade up.

“Rum.” You speak back plainly, as you drop a bag of gold on the counter. “The entire bottle preferably.”

She nods, not even giving any cheeky commentary akin to ‘rough day?’ like you would expect someone to comment when buying a whole bottle of alcohol for yourself. Instead she grabs the bottle from under the counter and slams it down with a silver cup before pocketing the gold pieces handed to her.

“Holler if you need anything, dear,” She draws out in a slow and monotone voice.

You don’t bother saying anything else to her as you grab the neck of the bottle and the handle of the cup before making your way to a dark quiet corner of the tavern and sitting yourself on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. You make sure to get your space set up before you crack open the lid on the bottle. Pulling out your journal and the small portable jar of ink and quill you brought before finally pouring your first drink.

You take a deep breath, steady yourself as the deep liquid looks back at you. For a second you swear you can see your reflection in the liquid, empty eyes, dark bags, a hideous frown. It just gives you more of an incentive to drink, to forget for just a little bit.

Down the hatch.

With a deep breath, you gulp down the first shot of rum and suppress a shudder at the pungent taste, how it burns your throat and thickly coats your mouth in consistency of syrup, yet tastes like stale sugar. You take pleasure in the warmth that soon comes after though, spreading from your core to your hands and feet. You can already feel the pleasant tingle of your nerves finally relaxing, of your body accepting the alcohol as a substitute for a human’s touch, like the big hug you’ve been yearning for.

You can’t help but take another shot right away.

If you’re being honest, you can’t tell how much time has passed. It’s had to at least have been an hour or two, maybe more. The tavern had cleared out a little bit, but it was still quite busy. Even with a few less faces, the chatting and laughter seemed to be louder than when you first entered. It doesn’t bother you, you had quickly let it become background noise as you buried yourself in your journal and shots of Rum.

Already the bottle was a 4th gone, and while you felt pretty coherent at the moment you could tell that the effects would be hitting you sooner than later. It was only at this point in your tipsy state that you realized maybe you should’ve left a note at camp or something, in case you couldn’t find your way back there tonight.

It was fine.

Your body had a good auto pilot, it was good at getting where it needed to be even when you didn’t know what was going on.

The thought quickly fades as you pour yourself another drink and gulp it down, before going back to cataloging your thoughts on paper.

You’re wet.

Wet with rain.

But not just rain.

There’s something else there.

Thick, reeking of copper, and metal.

You cough and more of it spits up, overwhelming your senses as you empty the contents onto the ground in front of you.

Red, so much red. More red than you have ever remembered coughing up before in battle.

That’s when the dread finally washes over you like a harsh slap to the face. It is more sobering than any other remedy you have ever tried in your life. It’s then you go from barely existing in reality, seeing everything through a blurred lens to being too aware of everything around you, snapping back into yourself like you never have done before.

You’re outside, far away from the tavern, but still in the Lower City. You barely recognize where you are, but if you had to guess you were trying to make it back to camp, but not doing a good job at it. With every step your whole body shakes. Putting weight on your ankle makes you want to topple over. It has to be at least sprained, if not broken. You pull out your hands to examine them and instantly notice they’re swollen. Red, puffy, knuckles, sporting drops of blood from the small cracks in the skin. Your head pounds not unlike when getting your head smashed into a wall, and lifting your hand up to your head you can feel a bump before you hiss at the pain of touching the blossoming bruises starting to take place.

This wasn’t good.

From the small amount of damage you could assess on your body you could already tell this was bad.

You feel like you’re on death's doorstep, moments away from collapsing and perishing in the streets. Every small shuffle with your feet feels like you were pushing your body to its extreme limits and pretty soon it was about to give up.

There’s no way to heal yourself, you didn’t pack any potions and all the shops are closed for the night.

The panic is dulled because of the alcohol, but is still present, you feel yourself freaking out in your core. Camp isn’t far, but there’s a part of you that’s certain you won’t be able to make it. You could try crawling, dragging yourself with your arms, but that seems more unlikely than trying to just walk the rest of the way there.

Maybe you could make it. Not all hope is lost yet, you’ve been in worse situations.

It’s right after the small sliver of hope you try to will and grab onto, that the world seems determined to prove you wrong. Another set of coughs destroy your body, sending you off balance as you bend in half to grip your aching ribs. More blood spills from your mouth and joins the rain on the concrete below you. You cough, and cough, and more comes out, it's seemingly endless, and when you’re done, you’re left feeling lightheaded and like you need a long nap. Just simple sleep.

Your body is at its limits. You’re not even halfway to camp. There’s no way out of this one this time.

You really fucked yourself.

You must really be on a suicide mission if you’re dumb enough to get black out and start a fight at the bar. At least you went out fighting, you hoped you at least took one or two of them down with you. You could feel it in your body how you were outnumbered though, bruises and cuts sprouting from all over your body.

There was no way you were ever going to win.

Maybe you just wanted someone to put you out of your misery so you didn’t have to do it yourself.

You’re barely able to make it to the alley on your left as you stumble your way between two buildings. Your body trips on nothing and slams into the stone wall, making you fall to the ground ungracefully as ever. With the last strength in your body, you pull yourself into a sitting position, slouching against the wall, but quickly slump back over.

The wall is spinning, the sky is spinning, you feel like you’re going in circles. The rain is more cold than ever, and you pull your cloak tighter around your body, but it seems to just trap in the chill. You cough, and more blood spills out. Your head pounds, your chest aches, and your ankle moans in pain.

Maybe if you’re lucky some poor fucker will see you and take pity on your sad self. Maybe if you just close your eyes, you’ll be able to gain enough strength to make the way back to camp and you can have Shadowheart patch you up.

Just a few minutes.

That’s all…

It can’t end here…

But you can’t push yourself any further for now…

You just need to rest real fast…

That’s all….

….

You feel yourself on the very edge, your final breath lingering on the tips of your lips as you try to give way to sleep, but something is calling out your name.

You really must be dying.

The voice sounds faintly like Astarion.

It’s pathetic how even on your deathbed you can only think about him. Your dying vision is him calling out for you one last time.

The voice continues to get louder, and you feel like every shout is leading you closer to death, your hallucination slowly becoming more reality than dream. There comes a point where it becomes too real though, and your brain fights itself between accepting this dream and realizing this was real. A thick shadow looms over you, blocking out the lights from outside the alley. The voice is loud in your ear, panicked and calling out louder than before.

He couldn’t really be here, right?

Astarion wanted nothing to do with you before, there’s no way he’s calling out now.

He said he hoped you died screaming.

If we really were here, he should be laughing, delighted that he got the chance to see your body withering away on the streets by random chance.

“...As-tarion….?” You croak out, your voice so hoarse from coughing that it's barely there anymore. It’s stupid to hope, you’re probably just talking to air, but you try anyways. If this is real, then this is your last chance.

The figure is kneeling now, right by your body. A gentle hand scoops under your head, and another hooks under knees before your body is being shifted. You wince but let yourself be manhandled, it’s not like you have much of a choice or can put up a fight. You’re pulled into a lap, you can feel crossed legs underneath you, against your back. One arm continues to cradle your neck and keep your head up, while the other frees the wet hair sticking to your face.

This has to be real right? Your body wouldn’t move like this on its own.

“As-” You open your mouth to try and call out to him again, but you’re quickly stopped with a finger being pushed to your lips and a quiet ‘shh’ noise.

“Yes, it's me.” He speaks.

“What are you- Why are you-” You have so many questions, that your mind can’t choose which one to ask first. You’re still trying to comprehend if this is true.

Because he’s here, he’s actually here. You can feel his hands all over you, his body pressed up against yours. You see him, feel him, hear him. In some twist of cruel fate, he came back. All it took was you ending your life for him to show up again. You can’t decide if it’s worth it. Because you get one last chance to see his smile, how his laugh lines move as his lips quirk upward. You get one last chance to see his expressive eyes that seem to give him away when he’s not quite 100% in the act he’s putting on. You get one more chance to finally apologize, to say all the things you’ve been thinking about for weeks.

“ I’m so sorry-” You find yourself saying. If you’re going to die, at least maybe you can get the apology you’ve been practicing in your head before it's all over.

“I never meant…God, I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel yourself getting choked up. Your already sore throat hurts even more, but you keep pushing. You need to get this out.

“You were hurting, and I turned you down- wouldn’t even say anything- just denied you.” Your mouth is moving faster than your brain, the rehearsed apology being quickly thrown out the window. You’re going to die soon, you need to get this out now before you’re gone forever. “I was just…scared- and I didn’t know what to do- I-I fucked up though and made you think I wasn’t on your side..I’m-God- I’m sorry-”

You feel tears slide down your face and they burn the tender bruises forming on your cheeks, but you can’t stop. You keep blabbering, saying the same three sentences over and over again, not being able to comprehend anything, just trying to talk, to get him to forgive you. And eventually, there’s another set of fingers being placed on your lips, shushing you again. And you quiet right away, you feel like you can barely breathe.

“It’s- Okay.” He seems choked up, lost in his own thoughts. He takes a second to work out his words, but you can tell he is thinking hard about them. His voice isn’t filled with malice like it was last time. It’s soft, and gentle this time. It’s serious.

“I see that now.” He finally decides on his words, and loosely shifts in his arms to stare up at his face.

It really is him .

“I was so focused on something that I had been denied for so long…I let it control all my thoughts and actions. I didn’t realize how far gone I was. I just wanted…revenge…to get my life back. To feel in control for once. I couldn’t take being denied that again, and I didn’t want anyone who wouldn’t support me. I just wanted…closure.”

As he talks, you stare at him and take everything about him in. The rain has let up, the clouds finally parting just enough for the moonlight to peek through. It shines brightly on Astarion’s hair, casting a halo highlight. His eyes are soft, but the deep red that you love. His expression changes with every single word he speaks, a frown tugging at his lips as he talks to you. He’s beautiful. He’s more beautiful than you remember.

“But I left, and it didn’t take me long to calm down and realize my mistake. You were right . And I didn’t notice at the time..but you were scared. I keep playing that night over in my head and - Gods - I can only see how terrified you were. I did that… ” his voice fades out, and you feel more tears slip down your face.

This can’t be real. This is a dream. Because Astarion is pouring his heart out to you, holding you in his arms, apologizing while you’re on your deathbed.

It’s like a cliche dream come true, the best case scenario you could have pictured when you think about your death.

It feels so real though. It has to be.

“I made you scared. I never want to do that again. But I couldn’t bring myself to come back…not yet at least. I would never forgive anyone if acted the way to me that I acted towards you-”

“I’ve prayed every night that you would come back- you’ve been in my dreams- you’ve-” You cut him off, needing him to know how much you want him back. How much you forgive him, but you can’t talk long before you heave a heavy cough and can feel even more blood sliding down the corner of your lips.

“ Gods.. ”He breathes out a heavy, heartbroken sigh as he thumbs away the blood soiling your face.

His touch is the lightest thing you’ve ever felt, especially after the beating you suffered earlier in the night. Your whole body screams in pain, but every place that he touches is a personal cure all, you don’t feel any pain at all in his arms. His hands aren’t warm, yet somehow they are warming your body, filling you up like the alcohol did, but ten times stronger. You can feel your stomach flipping over itself, fluttering at every touch. You missed him so much.

“What happened to you?” He asks in shock, holding your face, sliding his thumb along your cheek to catch whatever stray tears linger as he stares into your eyes.

“I…don’t…know…” You admit, pitifully, darting your eyes away from his as you answer the question.

He raises an eyebrow at you, wordlessly encouraging you to keep talking. So you do, as best as you can. You speak in short, simple sentences, your apology from before taking the most of your brain power and energy. You explain drinking to clear your thoughts, and coming back to on the street. You talk about the pain in your ankle, in your chest and hands. He looks at you the entire time, his face morphing into different expressions as you retell certain parts of your night and you can feel the judgment from him seeping into your bones…though the care he has for you over powers it. The gentle feeling of fingers carding through your hair, detangling the strands, the gentle rubbing motion of his fingers on your arm. It’s like he’s single handedly feeding warmth back into your body, even if it isn’t enough to keep you alive, it's enough to prolong your death.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask at the end of your explanation, not giving him a chance to comment on your decision making skills of the night. Maybe he’ll stay with you until you fade away. That would be nice, dying in his arms. You couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to go.

“Making my way to the woods…” He starts, and quickly fades off leaving you to fill the blank.

Oh right, he must be starving. Back to animals, you were guessing. You almost feel guilty for doing that to him, even though he was the one that left in the first place. Your eyebrows just shoot up and your eyes widen at his response as you nod ever so slightly, telling him you understand.

“Were you ever going to come back?” You ask after another beat of silence.

You really shouldn’t be talking, but you can’t help but keep asking questions. You need answers, and you need your own closure. You need to lay here, life slowly draining your body and listen to his voice as it carries you into the afterlife. You can already feel your eyes get heavier with every word you breathe out. You can feel air being harder to take in, just becoming shallow and soft.

“I- '' It seems like he is going to respond seriously, but can sense the change in your condition and suddenly his calm demeanor completely switches as he cries out, not being able to keep his act going anymore.

“You’re fucking dying!”

He screams into the night, at your face and you frown. You are dying, it's not by your choice and you’d change if you could.

“- fuck-! ” He cries out, and you feel the gentle presence of a healing spell being washed over you. But, it doesn’t do much, just takes you back from the edge of blacking out. Your vision clears for a moment, yet your body still aches, and you can barely breathe. Blood still leaks from your mouth. The only difference is your eyes don’t feel so heavy anymore.

“We need to get you back, hold on-” His grip tightens on you, and you use all the strength you have in your body to reach out and wrap your hand around his arm to get his attention and shake your head.

“Don’t move…I’m not going to make it…” Your voice gets quieter with every word, it seems your vocal chords are finally giving out on you.

“I came here to die like a pathetic stray animal once I realized I had no chance.”

He washes another light spell over you, but just like before it only helps for a few seconds before you go back to feeling worse than ever.

“There’s no way you’re giving up now. ” He speaks through gritted teeth, annoyance and disbelief fills him. “After everything? A stupid bar fight is what puts an end to you?”

You want to laugh because it's true. What a pathetic way to go out.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

His eyes narrow at your choice of words and you swear if a light breeze of wind wouldn’t currently knock you on your ass, he would reach out and swat at your arm.

“No. No, this isn’t the end.”

Astarion attempts to stand again, but just like before you shoot your hand out to stop him, pleading with his name on your lips. He stops once more and looks down at you, wide eyes of terror meeting your own.

“I mean it…it’s over for me, I wouldn’t even make it- and the others don’t need to see me like this. Just let them think I ran off on my own in the middle of the night or something-”

Astarion opens his mouth to interject, but you stop him and keep talking with the last strength you have in your body.

“Please…just stay here…” You take a break to wheeze in a pathetic breath of air, and continue. “I don’t ask for much…just, this is perfect. You are all I need. Just one last kiss, and send me off on my way.”

He wants to fight, you see it in every bone in his body. But he’s at a loss, he can either leave you and let you die alone, or follow your wishes. It’s obvious if he tries to take you to camp you’ll fight the whole way there. This alley is your deathbed, that’s all there is too it.

“...Fine…” He relents, with another heartbroken sigh. His eyes are on your face, soaking up your features because it's the last time he’s ever going to get to see them.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose and rough skin of your lips. They run across your eyelashes, and smooth over your eyebrows. They dance along your neck, and make their way to your collar bones before moving up to your ear, playing with the cartilage of it. Every move he makes is practiced, purposeful, calculated. He has intent with every touch, his face twisting into something so serious and focused as he stares down at you. As his fingers move and continue to spread warmth and love into your body, he starts to lean down and you try your best to meet him halfway. He stops you though, and tells you to let him do all the work. Eventually you feel his lips against yours.

Something so soft, a feather like kiss that almost feels like it wasn’t even there in the first place. You let his breath take your last as you breathe into his mouth. You move ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, to grab more of him, take whatever you can before it's too late. You strain yourself, pushing yourself over the edge as you lift your arm and wrap it around his neck, letting yourself play with the soaked white curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs in content and kisses you deeper, taking every bit of strength that you have left.

You feel the world fading around you, slowly but sure coming to a halt. Everything is starting to feel dull, his touch, his heat, the cold air outside…it's all starting to feel so far away. And you’re realizing you’re ready. All you wanted was one last kiss and you’d be set.

Astarion pulls away as your eyes blink, and slip closed for one last time.

The last sensation you feel before you’re pulled under is a deep, sharp shooting pain in your neck.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #reader x astarion #igs writing #true vampire astarion #bg3 spoilers #bag3 act 3 spoilers

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classicalchan · 11 months

Text

deal with it 🤍

pairing: bangchan x reader ;

tags: best friends to lovers, confessions, fluff, cuddling, kisses, comfort, some angst

a/n: please do not plagiarize my work and respect artists and their hard work!

text:

on some days, it feels hard to just exist. everyone and everything seems designed to hurt you but you persevere. you still pack up your things, leave work, and take the traffic-clogged route back home.

you still unlock your door and expect to walk into a cold house, with nothing but emptiness screaming back at you. you still return back to your unbearably lonely life.

but to your surprise, a pleasant smell from the kitchen wafts through the hallway instead. the house is warmly lit, not too bright, just how you like it, and before long, a familiar voice that rips through the glass in your heart floods your consciousness.

"y/n? is that you?" Chan calls and moments later, appears with an apron tied to his front.

you stare at your best friend, looking a little silly in an apron that's a size too small for him, curls a mess, his smile a million moons bright. you sigh. how could you not fall in love?

"when did you get here?" you ask, setting your things down and taking your shoes off.

"about half an hour ago," he says. "the boys had me leave a little early and i didn't know where else to go."

it was in moments like this that you mentally patted yourself on the back for giving Chan the spare key to your residence. you mirrored his smile, trying your best not to look too tired but he caught onto it as always. there's no hiding from him.

"you look like you haven't slept in weeks," he remarks. "is everything okay?"

you don't have it in you to smile anymore. he walks over, arms sliding around your waist and pulling you into a gentle hug. his fingers go into your hair and scratch your scalp as you sigh into his shoulder.

"it's a lot of things," you manage to speak. "but I'm glad you're here."

"i'm glad i'm here too. it breaks my heart to see you like this," he whispers close to your ear, and you shiver.

the two of you finish up dinner and sit on the couch next to each other, a show no one is watching running in the background. your chest feels immensely lighter, but you're still not nearly through with your feelings. you feel your throat closing up every few minutes, and you speak up before you could cry again.

"can we cuddle?" you ask. "i don't feel too good."

without a word, he shifts closer to you, pulling you into his arms and you melt. here was a guy who had always been there, no questions asked, no conditions put. and you loved him. you realized that every single second of the day. and even more so when he was around.

you feel his mouth pressing a kiss to your temple, rubbing warmth into your shoulder and you snuggle closer.

"tell me something nice," you mumble into his chest, his heart beating steadily under your cheek.

"hmmm," he thinks. "i like it when we're close like this. like, me being able to hold you and you just give up all your cares and relax."

you smile, turning your head up to look at him. his hair fell into his eyes and you reached a hand up to brush them away, fingers lingering by the side of his face. too pretty. he was too pretty.

"what else do you like?" you ask.

you saw his cheeks get flushed, scarlet spilling over his pale skin. his eyes searched yours, dark irises boring into your own before he let out a soft whisper.

"you."

"are you-"

"yeah. i'm serious." he spoke. "and you don't have to say anything, like i understand if you don't feel the same way but-"

you put a hand around him and pull him down from the back of his neck, your lips pressing into his. you had never imagined you'd live to see this moment, but here it was. here chan was- his lips softer than cotton, skin so warm beneath your fingers, his cologne flooding your senses.

he kissed you back and the world spun in lazy circles for you. you drew him closer and didn't let go until the two of you were panting for breath. he giggled, and you followed, the sounds of your combined laughter filling up the room.

"wow," he spoke. "i'd never expected you to feel the same."

"but i do. deal with it."

hi! if you liked what you read, feel free to check out my masterlist and request any prompts if you'd like through the askbox!

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danksy-ns · 5 months

Text

Zay and Ren reconciliation :

> full scene written under the "keep reading" button !

> The scene is written in collaboration with the amazing @turtldogladee !

> It's been 1 year and a little more since they last saw each other, when Ren broke up with Zay. The turtle still doesn't know to this day why it happened. Zay tried to move on but still feels hurt.

> The scene happens a while after he lost his leg, he now walks properly with his prosthetic leg. At this moment, he was running errands for Donnie in the hidden city.

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Zay moved to the door, but found a familiar face in his way. He stopped short and stepped back, as if to verify he was really seeing him.

“Hey, Zay.” Ren waved at him awkwardly, and even dared to smile. Zay’s insides twisted. He thought about pushing Ren out of his way, but quelled the urge. He didn’t like that it came from a place not rooted in anger.

He didn’t want to admit he still felt hurt.

It must have shown on his face, since Ren dropped both stupid gestures and turned solemn. “Yeah, I-I get that…You got a minute?”

“For what?” Zay asked. After the last minute he was asked for, he didn’t feel keen about giving another one to Ren ever again.

“To talk.” Ren’s ear twitched and he palmed the back of his neck, staring to the left, up, down, obviously avoiding eye contact. Zay hesitated. What did Ren have to be nervous about?

“Please, Zay?”

“Fine. One minute.” Zay relented, despite all the clamoring in his head to tell Ren off like the misspelled tattoo of a man he was.

And so there he was, sitting on a cold park bench, miserably waiting to hear what he had no reason to expect would be an apology. Maybe he hated himself. Why else would he have agreed? Because he was stupid. Desperate.

And Ren still hadn’t said anything! Why?!

Zay’s heart pumped so hard with anxiety, he thought he might hack it up right there onto the sidewalk. This was so, so incredibly stupid. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to hear what else Ren had to say.

“I’m really sorry for how things went down, Zay, truly.”

Zay laughed and snapped his teeth together to silence it, scaring even himself with how manic it sounded. “The fuck you are.” The fuck he was. If he was sorry, then where was he for the last year and change? Where was the sorry he needed to hear when he was crying his heart out alone in his bed, hiding the noise in his hands so his brothers didn’t hear, tearing himself apart in search of the flaw that made him unwanted?

He craved that sorry. Now that he had it, he wanted to break it over his knee and throw it away. “What’s your next line? I deserve someone better? Thanks, but the people who actually care about me have already let me know."

“You do deserve someone better !”

Zay was on his feet. And shouting. Embarrassing. “Well, maybe I don’t give a shit! Maybe I just wanted you!”

He shook with it, the intense emotions that leaked out despite all his white knuckled effort to keep them in, summoned by Ren’s godforsaken presence. He looked at Zay with the gentlest eyes and most sincerely guilty gaze, still sitting on the bench. “I wanted you, too.” Ren said and Zay stepped back.

Is he toying with me ?

Zay balled his hands up into fists but willed them to stay at his sides, docile. He had agreed to talk. “Then why?”

“I couldn’t stay with you.”

“That’s not an answer! You know what? I’m out. I don’t need more of your bullshit clogging up my life.”

Ren stood up. “Zay, wait!”

“No! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!”

Zay turned away but something tugged him back. He looked down.

Ren was holding his wrist.

Zay’s skin prickled all the way up his arm. Exhilaration flooded him.

He missed Ren’s touch.

Disgust oozed around his hand.

He shouldn’t have missed it.

Outrage burned behind his eyes.

How dare he.

Zay leaned back against it and got ready to break free and unload everything, but Ren opened his fat, stupid mouth and blurted out, “I was trying to protect you !”

Ren got lucky. He found one of the few phrases to cut through the red haze. “You have ten seconds to elaborate.”

“Big Mama was gunning for you. She wanted me to help her. She was gonna use me, but I wasn’t gonna let her do that.”

“What?” He blanked on anything else to say. So many reasons had plagued him: his past, his personality, his appearance but never that. He never thought Ren would’ve been motivated by…

Ren’s voice pulled him out of the spiral. “She knew we were together. She was just waiting for a chance to use it to her advantage, and when you left the Nexus, she tried to make me— I mean, she wanted me to…”

Zay twisted his hand until he could get a grip on Ren’s and pulled until the distance between them was closed and Ren had to look him in the eyes now.

Ren ducked his head to not loom. He looked so beaten down. Zay reached up and brushed his hand against Ren’s cheek, his heart twisting when his ex just leaned into it so openly. “Did she hurt you?” He asked, scared of the answer.

“No,” Ren murmured and covered Zay’s hand with his own. Now he’s got both, so Zay was stuck but he didn’t feel like that was a reason to panic. “She threw a tantrum, made some threats but nothin’ came of it.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s all she did! If she hurt you—“

“Once she knew you weren’t coming back for me, she gave up. I’m okay. Really.”

“I thought you were the world’s biggest jerk this whole time,” Zay’s throat felt dangerously tight with some kind of feeling. Ren took both of his hands and held them, like they were something sacred, and hovered close, their foreheads a breath away from touching. “Why didn’t you say something, Ren?”

“And unleash the beast on her? You’re amazing, Zay, but her- she’s terrifying and she would’ve put you in a cage the second you set foot in the hotel. I couldn’t let a confrontation happen.”

Zay's chest compresses at the way Ren’s voice hushed around the word terrifying.

Ren started to ramble. Zay could feel him shaking, all the way down to his hands. “You took too much from her. She wanted to take everything from you. You would’ve ended up in the Nexus or worse until—“

Ren went quiet, like saying it out loud was too much, too real, too close.

He spoke in barely a whisper next. “I panicked. And— and I hurt you. I knew if I did, you’d stay away and without me around, you’d be safe. You’ve been through enough already.”

If you only knew.

If you’d been there,you’d know.

He couldn’t undo so much hurt over so much time in a one minute conversation.

Zay stepped back and slumped onto the bench, right where he’d started. He felt stuck. His head was clogged up with starchy cotton. Dark thoughts brewed.

If Ren was protecting him, who was protecting Ren?

Not me.

Failure tasted like metal.

Idiot. Stupid, useless fucking loser, he needed you !

“Zay?”

Zay grunted, choked on the internal vomit his brain was retching up all over the metaphorical carpet.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“I mean it. I’m sor—“

“I forgive you, now stop.”

“Do you?” Ren asked and the tender concern in his voice, god dammit, it sank deep into Zay’s soul and his throat slammed shut and his eyes burned.

“Ye-ah.” He said and cringed inwardly at how deafening the break in his voice was. “I blame Big Mama. Not you, Ren.”

“It’s nice to hear you say my name and not be upset with me,” Ren smiled and held Zay’s hand a little tighter, and a little closer, like he was thinking about getting cozier.

“Who says I’m not still upset?” Zay asked hoarsely, only half serious. He ignored the traitorous, warm tears slipping down his cheeks without control. “Do I look upset?”

“You look like you need a hug.”

Faint cedar, something sweet, something familiar finding its way home after too long. Zay hauled in a deep breath and every sob he tried to choke back flooded out against Ren’s shoulder.

Ren hugged him tighter, and Zay held onto him ruthlessly, projecting all his will out to the universe that this wasn’t going to be a last hug. He missed Ren so much that his skin ached with it. Then the bastard moved his hand and cradled Zay’s cheek and the ache fled into the ether. He melted. He absolutely, thoroughly, hopelessly happily melted.

Ren laughed, like he knew exactly what was up.

They didn’t budge for an undetermined amount of time. They weren’t counting the seconds; they didn’t care to. They stayed for as long as they wanted, and it was left at that.

“Ren,” Zay muttered, idly petting his thumb over the ivory spot pattern above Ren’s jugular.

“Mhm?” Ren leaned back enough to look at Zay and they locked, sharing the air between their breaths, seeing the same thought in the others eyes. What follows a hug?

Zay’s phone chimed loudly and jolted them both out of it.

“Is that important?”

“It better not me.” Zay growled and checked his phone. “It’s not.” Fucking Leo. “No, don’t— ugh.” And Leo was calling him now.

“Dude,” Zay said when he answered. “Crazy people wait longer to call after an unanswered text.”

“Where’re you at ?”

“The Hidden City. Is there a reason you’re calling?”

“Grumpy gus–”

“Leo,” Zay said warningly, hinting at him to get to the point.

“We were just wondering what the hold up is. Also, Donnie wants his stuff. Everything all good ?”

Zay had a feeling Donnie was standing right there asking about it, too. He looked at Ren and mouthed sorry at him. Ren gestured like he was asking if he should go. Zay quickly grabbed the front of his flannel to keep him in place. “Everything’s great, just don’t call me for, like, half an hour.”

Ren huffed.

“Two hours. I’ll be back home before Donnie starts climbing the walls.”

“Two hours?! Zay, are you sure you’re okay? I can meet you. Super reliable, remember ?”

“No!” Zay said far too quickly. Ren muttered smooth and Zay elbowed him to shush. “I just had something unexpected come up. I’m a big boy, I can handle it, so you can relax.”

“I’m just thinking about if something happens and you’re alone…”

“One, thank you for worrying about me, Dad.”

“Ewwwwuh.”

“Two, I’m not alone.”

Ren took his hand and Zay swore he felt like a warm sunbeam just opened up above him. “I’ll see you soon. Bye.” and hung up before Leo could cram another word in. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. He sounded worried about you.”

“Ugh, I swear, he’s one step away from cutting up my hot dogs for me. He means well, though. Do you think I should get him a cat or something?”

“A purse dog should fill the void. So. We got two hours before your curfew. What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t care, I just wanna make you pay for it and it’s gotta be somewhere inside because it is fucking freezing.”

In two seconds, Ren shucked off his jacket, dumped it on Zay’s shoulders, and excitedly led him towards the nearest source of hot drinks, joined by the hand.

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#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise oc #rottmnt oc #rottmntzay #rottmntren #zay&ren

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lum13 · 1 year

Text

Your eyes, lead it back to me.

Chapter one of the mute series.

“It says, I love you— isn’t that weird? I mean, it’s not everyday a stranger bumps into you and the first thing they do is declare their love for you.”

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

taglist: @kaitlynroseb @idkjustliving2 @angel-luv-04 @left-and-right-up-and-down @reginassweetheart @thekid4466 @engenelxver

Love at first sight. Your younger self would have laughed at that. You never really believed in it— how could you fall in love with someone you barely know?

That belief soon crumbled into pieces the moment you saw her.

Though her interaction with you was short, it felt like eternity— ever since that day, the scenario played in your head again and again like a broken record player, every second passing with your body longing for her again.

So you attempted to talk to her again— and realized for the first time that talking to someone was very hard.

Everytime you tried to actually talk to her, your throat would clog up, your body freezing with an overwhelming amount of pressure flooding over you. You walk up to her, try to have an actual decent conversation– then proceed to forget about everything you had prepared for you to talk about.

So you would stand there still, too nervous to say anything– leaving the two of you in an uncomfortable silence.

But not today. Today, you have no choice but to talk to her– so you have decided to take advantage of that. You will talk to her, even if you have to force yourself to.

It was strange, how you felt such a strong pull to a person who is not even your soulmate. You felt an immense attachment to her, and without having a decent conversation, too.

Just as the bell rang, you shot up from your seat, swiftly grabbing your books that were scattered on your desk– swinging your bag around your shoulder. You paced to the exit, ignoring the looks you got from your classmates.

Normally, you would have gone straight to the cafeteria, trying to claim the perfect lunch table for your friend group. But not today– none of those mattered at this moment.

You stopped in front of the library, breathing in and out, trying to soothe out your beating heart. You bit your lips, your fingertips playing with the edge of your uniform. You peeked through the glass, scanning for the girl in question.

There she was, flipping through the books idly. You pushed open the library door, drawing the girl’s attention. You gave her an awkward smile, setting your bag on the desk beside her.

“Hi.” You said, “I’m, uh, your project partner— as you would’ve guessed.”

Wednesday gave you a look, before glancing back at her book. A short silence followed, making you fidget in the tense air.

“Do you.. have something in mind? For the project?” You asked, watching as the girl’s lashes fluttered down, before her eyes met yours.

She nodded her head, her bangs bouncing slightly from the motion— framing her cheek perfectly.

You held your breath at the sight. The raven haired girl shifted to open her notes, pointing at the pictures— tracing the words on the paper. Though you tried so, so hard to focus on the letters, your eyes kept making their way back to Wednesday— sending you into a trance, unable to think about anything but her.

Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, your mind chanted.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts. Your breath hitched in surprise.

Wednesday glared at you, noticing your distracted state. You gave her an apologetic smile, chuckling nervously.

“Sorry— I’m kinda tired right now. I’ll focus harder.” You said, the lie slipping from your tongue easily.

You plopped your arm down to the desk, revealing your inked wrist. You felt her stare on the letters curved on your skin— and turned your waist up to look at the letters yourself.

“Oh, um, it’s my soulmate mark.” You shrugged, “It says, I love you— isn’t that weird? I mean, it’s not everyday a stranger bumps into you and the first thing they do is declare their love for you.”

You giggled, noticing the girl’s round eyes. “I know, right? Strange.”

Despite your amusement, Wednesday was feeling the opposite. She fell into a panic, millions of questions running in her mind.

“Anyways, let’s get on with the project.” You said, bending down to grab your book from your bag. The raven haired girl eyed your back, deep in thought.

“So what you’re saying is—“ You started, but your voice faded out in Wednesday’s ears. Now, it was her who couldn’t focus, with too much of the puzzle pieces messing up her mind.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Hello!! I finally got to post this chapter that I struggled so much with. Hopefully next chapter will be easier to write because I don’t wanna go through that again.

Also for the taglist, is this the right way to do it? If you want to be out of it, feel free to tell me :)

Anyways, thank you for reading! Have a great day <3

#Wednesday Addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday Addams x you #jenna Ortega x reader

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eris-snow · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐁𝐫��𝐚𝐤

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, fluff, comfort, crying, swearing (as usual)

Been feeling a little inferior to those around me lately. It's something I'm sure we can all relate to, so I hope this brings comfort to those who feel like they're never good enough. Katsuki Bakugou is surprisingly good as a comfort character.

Today was just not your day. You've had these days. The ones when you would feel like you were about to cave inward. The days that you feel your strong front collapse because of the stress and pressure you exert on yourself.

Today isn't any different. Everyone in your class is constantly testing the limits, sky-rocketing past boundaries, while you...well, you...

You're just learning how to grow and improve. U.A. is a school where you need to aim for the top if you don't want to be left behind. Because of this, you feel like you're slipping further and further behind in class.

Momo is good at academics. Shoto is good at combat. Everyone is improving while you're trying so hard not to seem like a failure.

You're not bad, per se. But just seeing your classmates overcome their own boundaries and overtake you sow seeds of deep insecurity in your heart.

Today, was the day something finally snaps.

Bakugou comes over to help you study, armed with assessment books and dons thinned-rimmed glasses that make him look more intelligent and more mature. He still yells, mind you.

Every time you get a question wrong, he screams his head off while pointing out where you went wrong. He waits for you to solve the problem, and if you get it wrong again, the cycle continues. Rinse and repeat.

It got to the point when you were on the brink of tears, drawing a shaky breath as Bakugou eyeballed you write your equations with a quivering hand. You knew you'd asked for his help, even mentally fortressed yourself to focus on what you can do to improve, but...

"Dumbass, come on! This problem's fucking easy, an idiot like you can handle it!" Bakugou barks.

It's a final nudge over the delicately crafted wall that blocks out your emotions. A droplet of sorrow weasels its way past your defences, and your dam breaks.

Tears of helplessness flood your eyes as they splatter on your paper, your shaky hand pausing as you attempt to control these overwhelming feelings of inferiority gushing out.

Bakugou's still here, he can see everything, you scream at yourself...but your tears can't stop flowing. You just sit there, frozen, with tears streaming down your face and a trembling hand clutching your pencil so hard it could break.

Bakugou practically reels at the sight of you crying.

"I-I'm so sorry, Bakugou, I just," You sniffled, nose getting clogged up. "It's just...I-give me a minute," Grabbing a couple of tissues, you hastily blow your nose, trying to salvage the scrapes of dignity you have left.

"W-We can continue now, I just-" You try to clear your voice, or at least stable it to some degree. "That was just-"

"Fuck work, Y/n," He states bluntly, noticeably calling you by your first name. He tosses the book off your desk, slams his glasses on it and spins your chair to face him. "What, in the name of everloving hell is going on? Nah, don't shake that pretty little head of yours. Don't you lie to me," He snarls, words softening. "You're going through shit and you're clearly struggling, so What. Is. It."

A new round of tears hit your eyes as you choke back a sob. "I just-" Your voice is barely coherent now. Your watery eyes meet his, and it makes your breath hitch.

Bakugou's eyes were glowing with genuine care. Under those piercing, vermilion-red eyes, you can see his raw intentions laid bare.

He cares.

The words spill from your mouth as you babble, forcing yourself to admit the things you've wanted to hide, deny or avoid this entire term.

How you spent the entire lesson on Mathematics just barely grasping the teacher's words.

How hard you've been working.

How everything you do or try still makes it seem your improvement rate is put on the lowest setting of a slow-moving conveyor belt.

And Bakugou just...listens. He sits there patiently with an attentive gaze, each word you say making his eyes gaze softer and softer until it reeks of empathy for you.

He lets you explain how you feel, and doesn't say a word as you stuff your face with tissues and strewn them on the ground.

"You done?" He asks gruffly when you stop talking, making you nod your head vigorously at him. His eyes narrow on you, "Good,"

In a flash, he stands up and grabs you, pulling you into his embrace as he wraps his warm, comforting arms around you.

"Now listen here, Y/n," He says, voice hushed but holding conviction. "I'll say this once and I'll say it until it gets into that thick skull of yours. You have no right to work yourself down that hard. I don't care what words you're branding yourself as inside that blasted mind of yours, but you are not a failure."

He takes a deep breath and continues. "You are fucking incredible no matter how stupid you think you are, and you're already working even harder than most extras in our level. So can you please stop hurting my Y/n and realise how amazing you really are?"

Your breath catches.

My Y/n.

You must be going deaf or something. There's no way in a million years that he'd call you that.

"Bakugou-"

"Say it."

"I-I-" You bury your head into his shoulder, stumbling over the embarrassingly confident words he described you with. "I'm not a failure," Your voice wobbles. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm fucking incredible." You say, heat rushing to your cheeks.

You both pull away as you wipe your tears away. Bakugou cracks a satisfied grin. "Good. Now screw this shit, we're getting a tub of ice cream in here. You need a goddamn break."

He doesn't fix your problems magically overnight. But that caramel ice cream is a sinful treat as Bakugou makes you take a nap right after the tub is finished.

It's the best sleep you've had in months.

When Kirishima hears about this the next day, he is adamently shocked that the both of you can so boldly claim that you're still "just friends".

Katsuki Bakugou is truly, a fucking idiot.

#bakugo x you #katsuki bakugō #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #fluff #bakugou fluff #my hero academia #mha fanfiction #mha #bakugou katuski x reader

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autumnshighlady · 10 months

Text

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 16)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the moment you’ve all been waiting for, that’s all i can say

warnings: Night Court slander, pro-Tamlin,

word count: 7.7k (y’all better appreciate how long this is)

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: THIS IS THE BIGGEST CHAPTER YET GUYS!! so much is revealed that i’ve been planning for MONTHS, i’m so excited to share it with you. please send me all your reactions!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 /

read on ao3

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The stench of blood and shredded flesh was choking your senses, clogging your throat like the thickest oil. Everything was happening in slow motion through the stained glass as Hybern’s soldiers retreated, crowing their victory as if it took a great deal of skill to slaughter a defenceless village. Their cries were muffled, as if you were underwater. Every limb ached, too stiff and heavy to move even an inch. No amount of effort could get you to lift your head up.

You were going to die here. That much you had accepted.

What would be the point in living anyway? With your entire village dead, you closed your eyes, waiting for the embrace of death to whisk you away. Each breath was like shredding a knife through your chest, what was taking so long? Everyone else was gone, yet you were cursed with the ability to still draw breath.

A strange, white flicker drew your eyelids open. Everything was blurry, but even in your dazed state you could tell that something was happening. Groaning, you stretched out your fingers. If you had a voice, you knew you’d be screaming at the pain from such a simple movement. As your palm outstretched, something warm and gentle closed around it, as if the sweet spring breeze itself had formed a hand of its own to clasp yours. The touch was gentle, reassuring even. It flooded you with a sense of calm. Was this what death was like?

The white flickering from the bodies in the village erupted in a shower of starlight and sunshine, glowing tendrils rising from the mangled fae in your line of vision. They descended upon you like smoke, and the warm touch around your hand squeezed once before agony overtook your body.

You didn’t know if you were screaming or not. Your throat burned as if a dagger had slashed it open. Your abdomen ached, as if it was being hacked apart by a longsword. It felt like Hybern’s soldiers had descended upon you with their weapons, striking and cutting a thousand times. You heard nothing but the ringing in your ears as your body shook with spasms.

Please just let me die faster, You pleaded to the Mother. I can’t take this. Just end it already.

Even throughout the unbearable pain that wracked your body, you could still feel the warm sensation like someone was squeezing your palm. You wondered if it was your mother, preparing to guide you into whatever afterlife lay ahead. But the pain didn’t stop, didn’t end. It just kept going for what felt like eons. And then, like a weighted blanket was being laid over you, it stopped.

*********************

“Wake up.”

You opened your eyes and groaned, Rhysand’s voice making your already pounding head worse. You had endured hours of hearing it scraping against your mental shields, pressing to try and find a way in. You had felt his anger, his frustration and disbelief at not being able to get through. Every ounce of his hatred had been flung at you like a thousand arrows, making you see right through the High Lord.

You felt his self righteousness, his true feelings about how he didn’t give a shit about anything but his precious circle. Even them, he looked down upon – including his own mate and High Lady. As Rhysand flung his thoughts at you, you read them like paper on parchment. He may love Feyre and his family, but at the end of the day he needed control. And there you were, a stain on his image, a brick out of place at the foundation of his empire, threatening to bring the whole thing down.

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, feared you.

He was afraid of your influence, how openly rebelling on him and calling out his lies might spread ideas to others. Especially with Nesta, Cauldron-made, on your side. The thought of Rhys being afraid of you would have made you laugh, if you weren’t tied up in a cell for days on end. You weren’t even sure how you were still alive

You never figured out what happened that day your village was attacked, after the slaughter ceased and you were left alone. Every time you closed your eyes, that glowing light from the bodies around you haunted your dreams. You weren’t sure if it was even real, if any of it actually happened or if your mind had made it up. But you had felt different since that day in a way that couldn’t be explained. It was as if something coursed through your bones, waiting to answer a call.

You were changed that day, and for months you had chalked it up to your state of mind being altered by something so traumatic. But you had been in this cell without food for longer than your body, even as a faerie, should have been able to survive. Something that clearly also perplexed your captor as he stared at you.

“I don’t understand you, (Y/N).” Rhysand said with lethal calm. “Nothing about you makes sense. You happen to survive a slaughter at the hands of Hybern, you infiltrate my court and make a magical bond with Nesta Archeron that nobody has ever seen before, and you somehow resist my magic. I want to know how you’re able to do that.”

You spat up the blood that had been pooling in your mouth. “Go fuck yourself. Prick.”

The High Lord chuckled, but continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “And to top it off, you’ve been scheming with Eris Vanserra this whole time. Plotting to overthrow me, perhaps? To rip my court out from under me like Feyre did to your beloved Tamlin? If it is revenge you are after, I suggest you rethink your plan.”

You said nothing. It would be pointless to argue with him. Anything you say would be twisted and used against you, so you held your tongue.

“It matters not,” Rhys continued, pacing back and forth with his hands in his pockets. “Because you failed in whatever it is you wanted to accomplish. You are here, locked in this dungeon where nobody can find you. And whether I grant you a merciful death or not depends on you answering this one simple question.”

Rhys stopped pacing, and leaned towards you. His face was inches away from yours, violet eyes boring into you like lasers. You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. “What spell did you use to cast the bond? Gwyn’s story only tells us so much, if any of it is even related to this, but I know there’s more to it”

You huffed, cracked lips stinging with the effort of speaking. “You seemed to have a list of other questions, what happened to those?”

“Oh, I have other ways of finding out the answers to almost everything else. But with Nesta Archeron tucked away somewhere in Autumn, you are the only other person who can speak to the magic of the spell.” Rhys’ slender finger caressed your cheek, making you squirm with discomfort. “And if you cooperate like a good girl, how about I make you a deal? I will let Nesta live out whatever shit life she wants in Autumn in peace, provided you give me what I need.”

Your breath lurched, the horror of his insinuation dawning on you. Rhys never intended to let Nesta live peacefully in Autumn, not because he cared for her safety in the clutches of Beron, but because losing her made him look weak. Even if Nesta was married to Eris and protected by the whole of Autumn, Rhysand would take every opportunity he could to hunt her like a dog and bring her back.

No doubt he’d paint himself as the hero of the situation. Poor Nesta Archeron, stolen away by the evil Autumn prince and made a bride against her will. Rhysand would save her from her terrible fate, dragging her back to the Night Court to be hailed a saviour. And that would be the last time Nesta ever stepped out of Night, he would make sure of it. Under the illusion of caring for his beloved sister in law, of course.

You glared at him, but he only chuckled again. Rhys leaned away from you and stood back upright, picking at the sleeve of his shirt casually. “It matters not,” He said. “Azriel is on his way right now. He’ll tell me what he’s discovered, and when the sun rises over the mountains, he will kill you.”

It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on your body as you remembered the fading voices of Rhys’ command to his spymaster before you had passed out. You didn’t know what Azriel would do. On the one hand, he had stood up for you in a way that Rhys clearly hadn’t expected. But on the other, he has been loyal to the prick for five centuries – holding out hope that would change now was foolish. All you could truly hope for was that he granted you a quick death.

“What if he didn’t find anything?” You croaked. “Still gonna kill me then? I thought you were desperate to find answers.”

“If Azriel cannot find them, then there is nobody that can,” The High Lord countered simply, as if he were making idle chit chat. “And then whatever secrets you’re so determined to keep die with you, the magic along with it. That’s something I can live with if not knowing at the end of the day means protecting my court.”

You laughed bitterly. “As if you care about that?”

Rhys’ eyes narrowed, his body stilling like a predator frozen before the kill. “Excuse me?”

“You sure don’t give a shit about most of it.” You challenged brazenly. “The women in Illyria who still get their wings clipped, anyone who has the misfortune of living outside Velaris, you don’t care about anyone but yourself and your little family. You rule because you like the power, not because you care about the people your power is supposed to protect.”

“I have outlawed wing clipping in Illyria–” Rhys growled, but you interrupted him.

“And without enforcing it harshly you have only ensured that the practice of wing clipping becomes more underground, leaving females to die from mangled procedures.”

If looks could kill, Rhysand’s would have obliterated you. But you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself at the anger you elicited from the High Lord. Judging by his reaction you knew that he knew you were right. He just hated hearing it.

“I see Azriel taught you too much.” Rhys hissed.

“What did I teach her too much of?”

You flinched as Azriel’s voice echoed in the chamber. Out of the shadows he appeared, melting into the space of the dark cell like wax. His expression was unreadable, and he did not look at you. He faced his brother, not sparing you a single glance.

“Azriel, I am very glad you’re here.” Rhys’ voice singsonged, an obnoxiously chipper tone to it. The smug look on his face made you tense up preparing for the worst.

Gwyn was the only other person who knew about what magic was used to cast the bond between you and Nesta. Your gut twisted at the thought of Azriel going to her for answers. The priestess had sworn she would never breathe a word, but in more ways than one Azriel could be… persuasive. Rhys had already figured out the story the spell was based on by going into her mind, if he knew what else she had found….

You were certain of one thing though: if Azriel had harmed Gwyn in any way, you’d tear him limb from limb.

“I assume you’re going to be more helpful than this one here regarding information on the bond?” Rhys continued, crossing his arms proudly.

Silence that was almost too loud took over the cell for a few moments, until Azriel uttered one word from his lips. “No.”

Rhys blinked in surprise. “No?” He said. “You mean you honestly found nothing?”

A tentative flicker of hope ignited in your chest. Azriel was stone faced as he answered to his High Lord. “Correct. The library was of no use, even the restricted section. I found nothing resembling the bond (Y/N) and Nesta used.”

The High Lord’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “Interesting. You are usually more useful than this, Az.”

“I explored all of my available resources and found nothing.” Azriel’s voice was monotone, no emotion or life to it. It was the voice of a spy, unreadable and impossible to decipher. It made you nervous, unsure of what angle he was playing at. Azriel was not stupid, he had to know Gwyn would have been the one to give you and Nesta access to the information.

Which means whatever his reasoning was, he chose to keep Rhysand in the dark.

“Pity.” Rhys clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I know dear Amren was dying to find out what spell it was. But it doesn't matter anymore. I guess we’ll all have to live with the disappointment, won’t we?”

Azriel remained motionless as he spoke. “I am sorry I failed you.”

Another minute of silence overcame the cell. You barely even breathed, heart racing with every passing second. Until Rhys spoke the words you had been anticipating for days. “Kill her.”

The shadowsinger shifted, standing more upright. As your heart dropped into your stomach, you anticipated him reaching for truth-teller. If he had kept the information about the spell out of Rhysand’s hands, you took it as a sign he would make your death quick and clean at least. And so you closed your eyes, finding yourself for the second time in one year waiting for death to come and claim you.

“No.”

Azriel’s firm words made your eyes snap open in confusion. Rhysand was taking a deep breath, as if trying to keep himself calm and collected before he spoke. “And why not?” The High Lord said icily.

“Because this is wrong.” Azriel said, shifting his weight as if the mere act of disobeying his High Lord caused him discomfort. He glanced at you, eyes softening for a second as he spoke. “And she is my friend.”

“Please,” Rhys scoffed angrily. “No she is not. She was manipulating you, you fool. Maybe her pretty face kept your shadows distracted enough from figuring that out, but she is not your friend. She is your prisoner, whom your High Lord is ordering you to kill.”

“I said no.”

You glanced uneasily between them, not expecting Azriel to openly defend you like this. Rhys, apparently, felt the same thing. His breath was uneven, and his voice laced with rage as he spoke. “What has gotten into you, Azriel? Are you really going to disobey me like this?”

Azriel argued back, trying to reason with his brother. “Rhys, what we are doing to this female is wrong. All signs point to her wanting just to be free, not to bring harm to your court. She has no desire to overthrow you, or whatever bizarre shit your brain has come up with. Killing her would be wrong.”

“SHE IS A FUCKING THREAT TO MY COURT!” Rhys suddenly bellowed, his loud yell hurting your ears as it echoed throughout the chamber. Without warning, Rhysand shoved Azriel against the wall, a loud crack sounding as the spymaster’s wings collided with solid rock. He groaned in pain, but did not fight back.

. “And I am ORDERING you to do your job and eliminate her.” Rhys growled at him, pressing his neck into the wall. “If you do not, then I–”

“Do it yourself, coward.” You spat with as much defiance as you could. You hated seeing Azriel let his brother overpower him, watching him give up because he thought he deserved punishment for disobedience. You did not necessarily see eye to eye with the shadowsinger on everything – hell, there were times where his bystanderism made him just as bad as the rest of his circle.

But you could not let this happen to you, because it was all your fault. It was because of you he was in this position – his job, his family, his life on the line because he was trying to help you.

Rhys froze, pausing whatever blow he was about to land on his spymaster before he slowly turned to gaze at you. “What did you just say?”

“I said…” Every word was an effort, but a surge of determination flooded through you. “Kill me yourself, you fucking coward. Do your own dirty work for once.”

Rhysand snarled, letting go of Azriel with a shove. He stormed over towards you and grabbed your throat, hand gripping it like talons. His face was pure rage, the ugly face behind the charming mask, the illusion finally shattered. “I’m going to enjoy this,” He spat in your face. “And when I’m done, I’m going to drag Nesta back here kicking and screaming if I have to. And she will meet this very same fate once I make her scream.”

Something deep inside of you snapped. A strange sensation coursed through your bones, filling your broken body with life once again. Your wrists no longer ached, your back was no longer stiff. You could barely hear over the roaring in your head as you pictured Nesta’s beautiful face in your mind. The ringing in your ears became so loud, and before the High Lord of the Night Court unleashed his dark mist upon you, the world went white.

*********************

Wake up.

It was not the snarling, arrogant voice of Rhysand that greeted you, but a soft female one. It was familiar yet foreign all at once, the sound of both one voice and a thousand altogether, blended like a strange melody. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with a familiar scene.

Your village.

The bodies had gone, only ash and dirt remaining where they once were. The buildings remained in ruins, like the memorial of an ancient city. Vines had begun to curl over the rooftops, circling down the sides of what remained of the houses that Hybern did not burn down. Flowers had blossomed across the earth, a stark contrast to the death and destruction that had occurred on the very same soil all those months ago. You glanced at your arms, which were free from the cuts and bruises inflicted upon you in the dungeon. You felt no pain.

“Do you remember what happened that day?”

You jumped as the female voice sounded behind you. Whirling around, you were met with a tall female. She had olive skin and warm brown eyes, with long brown hair that shone like the rays of the sun itself. Her face was kind but strong, and she wore sparling robes that almost blended in with her skin. She emitted an otherworldly glow, a kind of radiance that shook you to your very core.

“Who… who are you?” You stuttered.

The female smiled softly, her elegant hands clasped together. “I am Estelle.”

Your mind raced, putting together the pieces from Gwyn’s information. “Like… the mother goddess from the story? Jayana’s lover?”

She nodded. “A millenia later, and I find myself missing her every day. Much like you miss your Nesta.”

You took a steady breath, shaking your head. “Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?”

The goddess chuckled softly. “No, my child, you are not dead. You are here for a reason, one which requires an answer to my question. Do you remember this day?”

You paused, taking a few steps back and scanning the clearing. Your heart ached at the sight of it so empty, so quiet and lifeless. It held so many good memories, ones that were now tainted with bloodshed and violence. “Not all of it…”

“Do you ever have dreams, my child? Dreams where you’re back in this clearing, body seized with pain so violent it felt like you were dying a thousand times?”

You felt her presence follow you as you wandered aimlessly. “Yes…” You muttered. “Are you going to tell me that really happened?”

“Is that what you want me to tell you?”

You whirled around, facing the female once again. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is happening right now. Or at all, frankly. I’ve had enough riddles, can you please just tell me why I’m here?”

Despite your anger, Estelle showed no sign of hurt at your sharp words. There was sorrow behind her eyes, an understanding, one that you felt could see into every inch of your soul.

“You know my story, correct?” She said softly. You nodded.

“Good,” She continued. “When I absorbed the life forces of my fallen comrades, I felt each and every one of their deaths. It tore through my body like a riptide, and I was sure it was going to break me. I felt their rage, their fear, their anguish as they were slaughtered much like your village was. And after that day, I held a new power, one that allowed me to escape Hel and break the realms of the world apart.”

Your throat was dry, a dizziness overcoming you as the weight of her words dawned on you. Every dream you had about that day, every nightmare that ended in blinding light and pain was the exact experience that the goddess in the story had felt. “What are you saying?” Your voice was quiet as you asked a question you were pretty sure you knew the answer to.

“My child,” Estelle said. “The same thing happened to you. What you felt that day was the life force of everyone in your village flooding into your body. You felt each and every one of their deaths, and I am sorry you had to experience that. But it happened for a reason.” You weren’t sure you were breathing at this point. You rested your hands on your knees, trying to stabilise yourself. “Do you mean….” Your voice stuttered as you spoke. “Do you mean that… what I felt that day… what I felt afterwards…”

Your voice trailed off, but a warm hand on your shoulder reassured you.

“Yes. Your body now possesses the life force of hundreds of deaths, a power you can shape and wield however you choose.”

The feeling of the goddess’s hand on your shoulder struck something in you. All those times you felt that invisible touch, that reassuring presence that you thought you had imagined… You had thought it was maybe the Mother, but it dawned over you that it had been Estelle this whole time. Hers was the hand that held yours as you felt the deaths of your friends and family rip through you. Hers was the voice that helped you stay strong as Rhysand tortured you.

“This whole time…” You said breathlessly, her presence behind you like a warm light on your back. “I thought it was the Mother guiding me. But it was you.”

“My dear, we are one and the same.”

You whipped around to face the goddess. “You’re the Mother?”

Estelle simply smiled. “The war that took Jayana from me was centuries before Prythian was formed. After I escaped Hel, I wandered about the universe, utterly lost. Until I found this untamed world, unguided by any spirit. I did not ask to be named the Mother, but my true name had been lost in my years alone. So I became her, but I never forgot who I was. And I never will.”

You ran a hand through your hair, mind spinning with the overload of information. The story of Jayana and Estelle was not only true, but Estelle was the Mother herself, the being that watched over Prythian and was worshipped all over the land. Not only that, but you were living what Estelle had experienced hundreds and thousands of years ago.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, not knowing what to say.

“Not everything has to have an answer,” Estelle said, taking your hand in her own. “And I urge you not to expect to know the explanation for everything after this. But as for why you are here, I needed you to know the truth. You refused to believe your dreams, and chose to try and forget about them instead of asking yourself if they were really just imaginary. You possess the power of life now, just as I do. And you are in a terrible situation, my child. I ask that you recall my story, and use this power to find your way back to your mate.”

Even in this strange dreamy reality, time seemed to stop. Mate. The world itself seemed to spiral down upon you as the word replayed in your head over and over again.

Nesta was your mate.

“But… but Cassian is Nesta’s mate.” Was all you could sputter out. Something stirred in you, as if awoken by the realisation. It was like the bond, but stronger. Its presence in your chest was undeniable, reaching out as if it were searching for its other half.

“Fae folk can have more than one mate in some instances. Nesta Archeron has more than one, but Cassian is not one of them.”

“How–”

Estelle cut you off, more urgency in her voice than before. “I have already told you not to expect the answers to every question you have just yet. All will reveal itself in time. But Jayana and I were mates before I created the spell that allowed us to communicate. Therefore, in order for the magic to work, the spell had to be done between two mates. The daemati-like powers is the only thing that spell gives. Everything else you feel? That deeper connection to Nesta? It was already there in the mating bond. The spell had nothing to do with it.”

“Holy shit.” You gasped, blood racing. “So you’re saying… Nesta and I are mates, and that’s why the spell worked?”

She nodded. “And why Rhysand was not able to activate it. It can only be done so between two mates, no matter how powerful an outsider’s magic is. And your magic is also the reason he cannot get into your head. You are protected from all other daemati magic.”

“I’m going to pass out…” You muttered, taking a seat on the log a few feet away. Within seconds, Estelle’s, or the Mother’s, appeared beside you.

“Everything happens for a reason, my child. You received those powers for a reason. You came across my story for a reason. I didn’t have a chance to use the spell to find my way back to my mate, but you do. Seize it.”

That strange presence in your bones you had felt after you woke up from the massacre, it wasn’t imagined after all. Deep down, you had always known something otherworldly happened. But you had spent months pushing it aside, trying to ignore it out of fear of what it was. “This is all just happening inside my head, isn’t it?”

Estelle’s long robes rustled in the breeze. “Of course it is,” She said. “But that does not mean it’s not real. Across the universe, there are multiple realities. Multiple versions of oneself that may seem like different people, but are all variants of one another. With beings like me, that does not happen unless we make it so. You, (Y/N), are an incarnate version of me. It’s why this is happening in your head. I am not some external being that is inside your mind right now. I am you, and you are me.”

You were the Mother incarnate. Holy shit. It felt like a dream, but the presence beside you was too strong to be anything but real. “If people have variants of each other,” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Does that mean….Nesta is Jayana?”

“In a sense,” Estelle responded. “The connection is not direct like with you and I. I saw your situation when Hybern attacked your village, and I kept you alive by having your body absorb the life force of the dead just like I had. And thus, you became a version of me. Nesta Archeron is her own person, but fate seems to like its parallels. I see much of Jayana in her. They both have the same temper, both represent a death goddess feared across all the lands.”

You frowned. “You mean you aren’t the decider of fate? I thought everything that happened was with your guidance?”

She laughed melodically, the sound like the song of birds on a spring morning. “No, my child. I decide many things, yes. But not all. None of us do, and we do not know what does.”

Estelle’s words echoed in your mind like a hurricane, threatening to overwhelm you. But it didn’t, because in a way, everything made sense. She had no reason to lie, even if this was just some bizarre dream or afterlife sentence. The way you felt that connection to Nesta, that force in your body that threatened to explode when you were angry, it all aligned with what the goddess beside you was saying.

“I cannot linger any longer,” Estelle murmured, covering your shaking hands with her own. “But remember how I got out of Hel. Find that power buried within you and rattle the stars with it. I will always be there alongside you, my child. You are never alone.”

You turned to say something, another hundred questions racing through your mind, but the world around you glowed as the Mother faded into the light. Within a few seconds, she had gone.

Once again, you looked at the clearing around you. The marks on the earth where the bodies had lain seemed to glow, calling out to you. A force deep within you sung in response, begging you to release it. As you poured over Estelle’s words, you recalled how the magic she absorbed allowed her to burst out of Hel and free herself.

Rattle the stars.

Her wording was deliberate. The Night Court was represented by the stars. You knew not the extent of your powers, but if your theory was right, you could make the entire Night Court feel your fury.

And so you closed your eyes, and let the clearing slip away as you let that power you’d been pushing down surge through you. It felt like you were falling, the clearing swallowing up as you descended into a void of light.

*********************

It could have been a millenia you were falling, or perhaps a second. As you let yourself go down into the base of whatever power lay within you, you felt memories crash into you all at once. Your mother’s smile as she presented you with her freshly baked scones. The feeling of Nesta’s lips as she kissed you for the first time. Lucien pressing a cold cloth to your head when you were sick. Eris holding you as you danced in the Hewn City. Rhysand’s smirk as he carved into you like a piece of meat.

The rage that boiled up as Rhysand’s face flashed through your mind quickened your plummet, your power bubbling up and ready to overflow. And so you opened your eyes.

A look of horror crossed Rhysand’s features as your eyes glowed with a bright white half a second before his magic went to strike you down. Dark mist collided with pure light as you exploded with a war cry of ancient times.

*********************

White hot rage was all you could feel as you unleashed yourself. Rage of the Spring Court souls whose life forces you had absorbed crying out with you for vengeance against the Night Court. Rhysand was thrown back, Azriel too as your light exploded. The walls around you crumbled, your chains shattering as everything around you came crashing down. The earth beneath your feet shook, the rock from the prison walls flying a hundred feet out to either side.

Wind ripped against your face as the mountain your cell had been inside crumbled away before you, creating avalanches of stone whose impact upon the ground sounded like thunder. Your blood sang, as if the life force within you was happy to be used. Surprisingly, Velaris was visible in the distance – you had thought your prison would be some remote mountain in Illyria. But perhaps Rhys knew that’s what everyone would assume, and keeping you closer to his home would keep you from being discovered.

Out of the shadows, Rhysand and Azriel appeared from the smoke, coughing violently. As they finally opened their eyes to look at you, pure wonder crossed their faces. You didn’t have to look down at yourself to know you were glowing with that same light Estelle had. Your gaze landed upon Azriel, who froze like a statue as it landed on him.

He didn’t cower, or scurry away. He simply gazed at you in awe for a few more moments before dipping his head, bowing before your presence. Rhys, on the other hand, got to his feet and snarled.

“What are you?” The High Lord hissed, gathering dark mist between his fingertips.

“I am Life,” The voice you responded with was not entirely your own – it was ancient and prophetic, with the authority of a god. “And your court has taken everything from me. You will pay for your crimes, High Lord Rhysand.”

Rhys made a vicious noise, talons of mist forming at his fingertips. You quickly realised that despite what you had just done, you had no clue how to defend yourself with your power. But before he could make the first blow, a ring of silver fire burst through the air and surrounded him, accompanied by a fierce roar from the sky. As you looked up, letting your eyes adjust to the bright daylight, you gasped at the sight before you.

Three dragons were flying towards the ruined mountain. One black, one silver, and one gold. The golden one was without a rider, circling the ruins around you and crying out. A familiar redhead was perched atop the black one, golden armour shining in the midday sun.

Eris, a golden flame atop a black fire breathing mount, had come to your rescue. But it was the silver dragon your eyes were drawn to, and that piece in your chest that had spent the last few weeks reaching out to Nesta crackled with excitement as you gazed upon the silver dragon’s mount.

Dressed in red, scaling armour was Nesta. Even from the ground, you could see her silver eyes glow in the same shade as the flames surrounding Rhysand. She had the wrathful look of a death goddess as she descended with her dragon, its silver wings creating hurricane like gusts of wind as it hovered before you and Rhys.

Nesta and Eris had come to save you.

You couldn’t help but glance at Azriel, who seemed sagged with relief. Your throat closed up with emotion – the spymaster knew Eris and Nesta would show up, and likely told them exactly where.

“Nesta.” Rhys growled, staring up at his sister-in-law with anger. “Leave.”

“Not without (Y/N).” Nesta’s voice was clear and strong, commanding Rhys like a queen commanding her subjects. Her dragon roared furiously at Rhysand, causing the High Lord to flinch.

“Dragons?” He sputtered, coughing as the smoke from the silver flames blew in his face. “What… how?”

“You have your surprises, Rhysand, and I have mine.” Eris piped up, landing his black dragon on the ground. The earth shook with its impact, sending more rocks crashing down the remains of the mountain.

Weariness took over your body, and you felt the light begin to fade as your magic retreated.

No no no, You cursed to yourself, trying to summon it again. But every muscle in your body ached from the sudden surge, unable to bear any more magic. You felt helpless again, trapped. Rhysand tried to take a step towards you, but scurried back as the ground once again shook, this time behind you.

The golden dragon had landed right behind you and let out a vicious roar towards Rhysand, its eyes glowing with fury. It stood protectively over your shoulder, towering over you menacingly in a way that promised certain death to anyone who made a move.

“Dragons are protective creatures,” Eris said. “I wouldn’t get any closer.”

“You’ve invaded my court,” Rhysand hissed. “This is an act of war.”

Eris chuckled. “Technically, you declared war first. We’re just finishing what you started.”

Before anyone could speak up, a horn sounded from the ridge in the distance. You whirled around, the motion making you slightly dizzy. But your eyes were clear as ever as the banners of the Spring Court appeared over the hill.

Armoured bodies marched in synch as soldiers approached on horseback, led by none other than Lucien. His cloak streamed behind him in the wind as he loped towards the scene of the wreckage. You nearly wept, not having seen him since he rescued you. From the look on his face, Lucien felt the same way.

A different type of roar was carried fast in the wind, and a mighty beast winnowed in front of the army and led the march. Its elk-like antlers and massive body sped ahead of his troops with his great stride, bounding towards you.

“What is going on here?” Rhysand demanded, unable to hide the slight panic from his voice.

“You started this war when you stole (Y/N) from Spring,” Eris said coolly, patting his dragon. “We’ve found it in our best interests to align with Tamlin over the matter, not you.”

The dragons did not react as Tamlin’s beast form landed right beside them, growling. Tears streamed down your face in relief – the High Lord you had looked up to, the male you had helped get back on his feet, had joined in on the effort to save you.

“Rhysand.” Tamlin growled in greeting.

“If this is some sort of revenge plan on Feyre–” Rhysand began, but was quickly interrupted.

“This is not about her,” The High Lord of Spring snapped. “This is about (Y/N). You have kidnapped and imprisoned an esteemed member of my court, which is considered an act of war. I do not want to shed blood, but we will if you refuse to let her return to me.”

“(Y/N) is a member of my court now.” Rhys responded, evening out his voice. You knew he was trying to put on his collected mask, but it was cracked and slipping. You snorted at the weakness of his voice, and the dragon behind you made a similar noise, as if it was mirroring you.

“Is she?” Lucien said, halting his horse next to Tamlin and looking at Rhysand with a hatred you didn’t know he had. “Because she is still registered as a member of Spring. You never opened any accounts or filed any legal documents with her name, so according to the law there is no proof that you have taken her in as an official member. Which means you have wrongfully imprisoned a member of another court.”

“This is absurd.” Rhys scoffed. “Get out of my court. Now. This is my business.”

“Hand (Y/N) over and we will.” Lucien responded. The armies of the Spring Court halted a few metres behind the dragons, hands clasping their weapons, ready for the order to jump into action.

Malice glittered in Rhys’ eyes. You knew he wouldn’t give up easily, not when you had already made him look weak once. “No.” He said firmly.

No sooner had the syllable left his lips did a band of silver fire wrap around his throat. He cried out in pain as the flame danced, licking at his skin but not quite burning. The silver dragon’s roar turned all eyes to Nesta, and your heart jumped at the sight.

Nesta had stood up on her dragon’s back, silver flames wrapped around her fingertips and arms. The clouds darkened above everyone, thunder rumbling in the distance as her eyes glowed brighter.

“You locked me up.” Nesta’s voice was cold as ice and sharp as steel. Nobody moved a muscle as it echoed alongside the eerie cries of the wind. “I helped you, dozens of times. And you locked me up because I didn’t cope with the war YOU dragged me into in the way you deemed acceptable. I was an object to you, one to use and exploit when it suited you only to lock me away again when you were done. None of your circle has had any respect for me, Rhysand. From the beginning, you have pitted yourselves against me because it’s easier to make me the bad guy than take a look at your own flaws and mistakes. You took my human life, my money, my house, and everything I had. I was never a person to you, just a problem.”

Even Tamlin had gone completely still as Nesta twisted her hand, causing another band of fire to appear. This time, it bound Rhys’ hands and ankles, forcing him to his knees. Black mist attempted to make its way through the fire, but was rapidly quenched. Rhysand’s magic was no match for Nesta’s fury.

“I am taking my life back, Rhysand.” Nesta said. “And you and my sister will have no say or part in it. Do not come after me, do not try and bring me back here. If you try, I will burn you to nothing but ash.”

Rhysand growled, thrashing against Nesta’s fire. “Azriel!” He barked. “Do something!”

The shadowsinger was pale faced, surveying the scene before him. “Let her go,” He said sternly. “This is a fight we cannot win.”

You found your feet again, standing up on shaky legs. You summoned more magic – your body protested, but you ignored it as a shimmering white gag wrapped around Rhysand’s mouth, joining his silver flames.

“This isn’t a debate.” You panted, the weight of your tattered, shredded dress making you want to collapse. But you relented. “I am leaving with them, and you will let me.”

Tamlin’s beast form crawled towards Rhysand, growling. “I was wrong to lock Feyre up, I know that.” He spat. “But don’t pretend like you didn’t do the exact same thing to Nesta and (Y/N).”

Rhys mumbled something through the gag, but was ignored. You felt a nudge, and the golden dragon was gently pushing its snout into you. You placed your hand on its nose, letting the beast inhale your scent.

“Zorzimril says it’s time to go.” Eris quipped, smirking down at you. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You nodded, glancing up at Nesta. Your mate.

Her eyes were locked on you, and a faint tear ran down her cheek. Tentatively, you reached towards the spell-made bond. Nesta?

I…. I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice. Nesta’s response came, and so did your tears. Your lungs shook as you inhaled deeply between sobs.

Me too.

There will be time to catch up later. Come, let’s leave.

The golden dragon had lowered its shoulder to the ground and looked at you expectantly. Tentatively, you climbed onto its back, grasping the horns down its spine as you settled yourself. From the view on dragonback, you surveyed the site you had been standing on. Rubble from the mountain was everywhere, the great peak crumbled into a small hill. The gags on Rhys had disappeared, but he remained kneeling, face twisted with anger. Azriel stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder and giving Eris a slight nod. Tamlin and Lucien stood side by side once again, united with a common cause. Your heart swelled as you recognized the faces of the soldiers they brought – many of them fae that you had taken into the manor after losing their homes to Hybern. You could see it in their eyes that they had come not just because they were ordered to, but because they wanted to help you like you had helped them.

“Let’s get out of this wretched court.” Eris sighed, winking at you.

“Wait.” You said as an idea popped into your head. “I have something I want to do first.”

Nesta smirked at you, knowing exactly what you meant.

*********************

You, Nesta, and Eris soared on dragonback through the Night Court, approaching the Inner Circle’s mountainside cabin. You relished in the cold air whipped across your face, having not felt fresh air in weeks. Zorzimril happily flew you alongside Nesta, making happy growling noises as the excitement of what you were about to do made you jittery.

As your dragons approached the cabin, they stopped, hovering in the air above it. You looked towards Nesta and Eris, and they gave you a nod. You shouted the command Nesta had taught you, and Zorzimril unleashed a torrent of flames upon the cabin. The scent of burnt wood filled the air as the structure was quickly engulfed. Within ten seconds, it was reduced to ash.

And so the three of you flew to each remote residence of the inner circle, making sure it was away from the city before burning it to the ground. With every palace set aflame you whopped with delight, causing Eris to chuckle. It was satisfying, watching their luxuries burn down while half of Illyria was starving and poor. The Inner Circle had fled to the River House, the one shared residence of theirs that remained intact due to it being in the city centre. You did not want to punish innocent people for the crimes of their leader, like Feyre had done to your court. No, this was proper vengeance. And you relished in it.

Despite your exhaustion and pain from the last few weeks, you let yourself cheer and cry out on the back of Zorzimril as you soared through the air between Nesta and Eris, headed for the thicket of the autumn trees in the distance, leaving the Night Court behind you.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @

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suguru-getos · 1 year

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Genshin men x Arguments & how they make up for it

Characters included: Diluc, Ayato, Kaveh.

Diluc Ragnvindr:

The Monstadt Wine tycoon, usually does not indulge in arguments at all. All he wants is to share common view points. Until sometimes, his rage takes over. You have been trying to go to Liyue, he wants to accompany you but he isn’t getting the time. Today was the day your persistence broke his patience. “I don’t know, I still want to go.” You managed to retort, burning venom of annoyance laced in your tone. “I said, you can’t go alone,” Diluc gritted, walking towards you and glaring, “Do you not understand or do you really? Really like to annoy me with your nuisance?” He spat back, making sure his points were sent clear cross, cut throat, unmatched with his usually tender behavior.

You were taken aback, the threatening tone of his voice followed by the retort shocked you. You knew Diluc made you feel safe, made you feel loved, feel heard. Eyes trickled with fresh tears, you stepped back from him. Not ready to see him the same at the moment. “I’m sorry,” was all you managed to utter with your voice breaking apart.

Diluc was shocked, it felt like dying, like something in his throat was clogging his very breathing. The way your chest heaved. The way your lips trembled. “Angel- please,” Diluc’s voice turned soft, scared to break you. A stark contrast from his earlier tone. “I didn’t mean to lash out on you,” Diluc’s guilt also started pouring from his eyes. He is the Dark Knight hero of Monstadt. He doesn’t want to be a villain for his own lover.

“Listen, I will cancel everything, all impending tasks & we will depart for Liyue this very moment,” Diluc managed to mumble, not daring to look into your eyes. Your silence was deafening, your efforts to keep your sniffles down was breaking him like glass. “Angel, I’m so, so sorry,” Diluc went down on his knees, leaning his head against your pelvis. “Please, don’t cry on me like this,”

Ayato Kamisato:

Arguments with Ayato were few and quite far-fetched. It was mostly due to his absence in important scenarios where he is required. The slave to the Shogun, not your husband; is what you’d see him as, on certain days.

“You really think things will work like this Ayato?” You held his wrist, stopping him from leaving the shared bedroom when you brought up yet another plan of him & you spending a few days off. “It will not fucking melt you into nothing if you live a day for us for fuck’s sake!” Your irritation and rage was listened to softly, as Ayato cleared his throat. “Maybe you don’t understand the importance of all this, or maybe I am not that important to you after all,” you mumbled to yourself, doubts flooding your head when your hand glided away from his.

That was when Ayato snapped, boiling hot rage like steam, a contrast to his gentle hydro vision poured down on you, uncaring how it would burn your heart up. “Maybe it is you who should understand that ALL I do and partake in is for the sake and protection of my family, or do you lack the simplistic wits it takes to fathom this?” His voice rose, for the first time ever towards you. The uncanny resemblance of him against one of his retainers flooded your memories up. You don’t want to see him like this.

Silence enveloped the next moment, not a word uttered by you. Ayato was also, silent. The realization of his tone daunting inside him like a violent drum, vibrating against his core. Staggering his breaths.

“We should talk later, Waka,” you mumbled, not wanting to use his first name. It felt like sin. Like you didn’t deserve it.

“No— y/n, I suggest- we talk now,” Ayato felt miserable, eyes changing from vicious to pleading.

“No— I plead, we should talk now,” Ayato mumbled softly, looking down. “You don’t deserve to be on the other side of my anger ever, neither do you deserve to listen to my harshness,” If guild could embody a living being, it was Ayato.

“I am sorry, I sincerely apologize for my tone. You- you are my princess,” Ayato mumbled, taking a deep sigh. “Please, forgive me for it love,”

Kaveh:

Kaveh, the ever so chirpy, wonderful Kaveh. The man you are glad to call yours, the man who understands you, reads you like an open book, gives you the best bear hugs. The same man was fuming with rage, not his usual cranky, sarcastic & witty self. He was angry.

“Didn’t we talk about this? How many times do you fucking want me to repeat y/n?” Kaveh roared, watching you quiver under his otherwise larger stature. He specifically told you not to follow up the Ermites gang which was trying to work in the Ksharewar. You, being you, just couldn’t stop yourself.

“And I— I told you, Kaveh. We have- I mean, I think they might have ulterior motives,” you managed to speak properly. It was the Akademiya Headquarters and Kaveh, despite being your significant other, pretty much controlled the Ksharewar & hence, was your super senior authoritative boss.

Kaveh hated when you winced & got uncomfortable like this, hated to see you flinch and him being the reason about it. His eyes scanned your form, how your nails were scratching your fingerpads in nervousness, how you bit your lower lip, thumbs scratching your index finger’s nail. Anymore and you would have red scratch marks.

Kaveh was silent, he cared for your safety. Which meant, he wanted you to be & feel safe. Never would he become the reason for your anxieties after all. “I think we need a break,” Kaveh mumbled softly. Your eyes shot up, looking at him with tears filled to the brim, threatening to escape. “You— you don’t want me?” Your voice broke, “Because of something like this?”

“NO! No— no sweetie you misunderstood me,” Kaveh immediately got up from his chair, stormed towards you and wrapped you in a hug. “I meant we need a break from this, how about a walk outside? You clearly don’t seem okay right now & I’m sorry for not putting my words better for you,” he leaned in, kissing your forehead.

“If you forgive me faster, I will accompany you with the Ermite investigation, okay?”

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serafilms · 6 months

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song 23! try hard (5sos) + park sunghoon (spotify wrapped event)

she’s so out of reach, and i’m finding it hard ‘cause she makes me feel, makes me feel, like i try, like i try, like i’m trying too hard

happy birthday sunghoon! wrote this one especially without being requested because 23 is his jersey number and i wanted to celebrate him today :) hope he has the best day + year

Today starts out just like any other: Sunghoon wakes up thinking of you. Actually, technically his first thought was ‘Wow, I’m one year older today,’ but his next thought was about whether or not you’d wish him a happy birthday, so it still counts.

He checks his phone and fights his disappointment when he doesn’t see a text from you. Instead, he’s flooded both in the group chat and his private messages with well wishes. He sends polite ‘Thank you’s’ to his relatives, tells the guys to ‘fuck off’ in their group chat, and laughs at Jake’s very lengthy and emotional private text, which Sunghoon is sure his friend cried while writing.

Riki facetimes him seconds after seeing that he’s awake and tells him he’d better have his house ready for their joint birthday party tonight.

“Seriously, if your backyard is a mess when I get there, I’m going to clog your toilet so people piss in the yard and then you have to clean everything properly.” Ah, what an angel. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks, Riki.”

Then the younger hangs up, leaving a promise that he and the others will arrive before lunch for their planned ‘pre-party group only birthday pizza party’ and to help set up for the ‘real party.’ Sunghoon looks around his bedroom. It’s a little messy, because he lives in it so of course it is, but he knows the rest of his house is in order.

He already obsessively panic cleaned the whole place three days ago, when Jay confirmed that he’d sent you an invite. Man, he hopes you show up tonight. Not that he cares that much, of course (he cares very, very much). Because caring too much is bad, Sunghoon thinks. He can’t show his weakness, even when he is extremely weak. He wonders if he really has gone too far in his delusions and might now be descending into madness.

You care about him, or at least he thinks so, but you always seem so far above him, out of reach (“Is Y/N out of my league?” he asked once, chewing on his burger. “Yes,” chorused his friends. Lovely).

Sunghoon sighs and looks around at his room then begins to clean it up. He can’t have you seeing this mess (not that he’s being presumptuous in assuming you will be in his room or anything! This is Purely Hypothetical).

It’s only after he’s finished, and opened his presents from his family, and received the cake that his mother had delivered for him and the guys to enjoy that he finally opens the door and sees their faces.

Jake immediately tackles him in a hug, and Sunghoon feels like he can’t breathe as he squeezes him and shakes him around. His chest warms with happiness though, and through Jake’s shaking he glimpses Jungwon, Riki and Sunoo in front of him. Jake finally releases him and speaks.

“Sorry we’re late! We stopped for churros.”

Sunghoon furrows his brow. “You brought churros for the party?”

“No, I wanted churros,” Sunoo says, then takes a big bite. “Wan’ some?”

“I’m good,” he replies.

Riki pats Sunghoon on the back, then barges past him into the house and immediately begins examining it like some sort of teenage home inspector.

“Happy birthday,” says Sunoo, then follows Riki inside and immediately throws himself on the couch to finish his churro.

Jungwon repeats the sentiment then adds, “Jay and Heeseung are picking up the drinks and pizzas, they’ll be here soon.”

Thank god I made friends with Jay all those years ago, Sunghoon thinks, feeling very touched, Who else is rich enough to fund their friend’s birthday party?

“Very cool,” he replies, then drags Jungwon and Jake inside.

The other two arrive soon after and they enjoy a nice party without interruption for about 20 minutes until Sunghoon checks his phone and feels himself frown at it being void of notifications.

Are you busy, or did you forget his birthday? Do you just not care about him? If so, you should. He wore ripped jeans to impress you. He bleached his hair in the hopes you’d notice him (though that was also because he lost a bet with Jay). Is he just trying too hard?

“What’s up with you?” Heeseung asks him as he slaps a slice of pizza on top of another to make what is effectively a pizza sandwich.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

Riki snatches his phone out of his hands and looks at the screen, where Sunghoon’s texts with you are open. “He’s pissy his girlfriend hasn’t texted him yet.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sunghoon says sadly, and Jake gives him a pat on the back in consolation.

“Don’t even stress,” says Sunoo airily. Sunghoon doesn’t like how unaffected he seems. Shouldn’t everyone wallow in his despair with him since it’s his birthday?

The younger continues, “I asked her yesterday and she said she’ll definitely be here. So we just need to make sure you look super hot tonight.”

He feels a flicker of hope arise in him.

“It’ll probably take a lot of work, but we’ve got time.”

The flicker sizzles and dies. He glowers at Sunoo. “Gee, thanks.”

However, true to his word, Sunoo makes sure that Sunghoon does look super hot. It’s actually insane how hot he looks. He admires himself in the mirror. Maybe being a try hard isn’t such a bad thing if he ends up looking as gorgeous as this.

The party starts without a hitch and is soon in full swing. His friends are all starting to get very drunk (except Jungwon and Riki, because Riki is waiting until midnight for the sake of integrity and Jungwon is a Good friend who is waiting with him) and Sunghoon feels himself getting a little cloudy minded too. But as he stumbles a little through the hall, he still can’t see you.

But there is someone who looks just like you at the end of the hall and in the kitchen right now. He walks towards them, squinting a little and hearing them laugh and say goodbye to someone who’s evidently leaving the kitchen. Wow, they even sound like you. As he enters the room, the person perks up and greets him, and when he blinks the blurriness out of his eyes, you appear in front of him.

Oh. “Hi Y/N,” Sunghoon says, flushing.

“Hey Sunghoon, happy birthday.” God, your smile is pretty. Your outfit is pretty too, and your hair and your face and your hands, where…

There’s a wrapped box in your hands, and you follow his gaze down to it, then start in surprise as if just remembering it. “Oh, yeah, this is for you! Where should I put it?”

Sunghoon is still trying to comprehend that you’re really here and talking to him as he tells you, “Just on the table is fine.”

Okay. This is his chance. Now or never. “Do you want to go to the backyard for a bit? I need some air.”

Maybe he’s hallucinating a little because of the alcohol (or delusion) but he swears you blush. “Sure.”

You follow him out to the back. He’s surprisingly steady for someone who’s had as many drinks as he has, and stops out on the back porch, turning to face you.

You clear your throat as he tries to get his pounding heart under control. “So how’s your day been so far?”

He can hear it beating in his eardrums, and hopes you can’t hear it too. “Yeah, good, good. Um, can’t really complain. I ate pizza.”

Sunghoon is really not sure what to say now. But apparently the alcohol in his system does, as he’s speaking before he’s even processed the words.

“Can I kiss you?” he says at the same time as you say, “I have another present for you.”

The both of you stare at each other for a moment, not having heard the other’s words. “What?” you ask.

Sunghoon feels his stomach churn and hears an alarm go off in his head. “Um, it’s nothing. You go first.”

You look away shyly for a second. Yep, you’re definitely blushing, he thinks. “I said I have another present for you. I was kind of waiting for the right time to give it to you.”

He’s surprised, if nothing else. “You didn’t have to get me two presents.”

He’s also curious. “So what is it?”

“Can you close your eyes?” You’re avidly avoiding his gaze.

Sunghoon obeys, and the darkness behind his eyes makes him all the more aware of the sound of his heart. He’s nervous and scared and anxious and frightened, and then all of it is melting away because your lips press themselves to his and you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, and he’s kissing you. Sunghoon’s stomach flutters and he brings his hands to your waist. It’s a very good kiss, and he can taste a little bit of cake on your tongue as it deepens.

Then you’re pulling back and Sunghoon is metaphorically and literally breathless. You kissed him. He kissed you.

“Happy birthday, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon’s face breaks out into a grin and he takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. He tugs you into his chest and looks down at you. “Thanks.”

And he kisses you again.

#finished at 11:43pm kst holyyyyy close call #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon imagine #park sunghoon scenarios #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagine #2023 spotify wrapped event !#written works !

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staarboyyy · 7 months

Text

unexpected morning - chapter ii [ prev. ]

thomas shelby x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; smoking, fluff, morning sex, oral sex, power imbalance, overstimulation, reluctant feels, thomas shelby please have emotions?? please?? LMAO, irresponsible beta read we die like real men

summary ; thomas warms you up on a cold morning in the office.

word count ; 2.5k

a/n ; yaaall im so sorry this took so long! requests will be open soon <3 love u all, thank you so much for the support!

The morning started as any other would - A strike of a match, a sip of whiskey here and there, and keeping the curtains shut despite the assaulting sunlight. Thomas' temples pulsed, heart flooding his ears as his thumbs rubbed the aching space, elbows resting on his desk. He glared down at the neat stack of papers, cursing himself for organizing everything simply to avoid actually reading through them all. In truth, he drank far too much last night. It coated his teeth, breath burning with expensive liquor as he grunted his way from bed.

Where had you gone? The few hours after the events of the night prior gave way for many opportune moments to escape; Flee in the dark, tell the secrets you learned in sharp whispered turned toward your family. And yet as he watched you leave in the warm morning sun caught his breath. He could not put to words the affect your body had on him, simultaneously intoxicating and ruthelessly sobering. Come to your fucking senses, Thomas.

He watched you slide your clothes over your bare skin, back turned toward him as you dressed yourself quietly. You were careful to collect your things, move them closer towards the door to silently redress yourself and scramble home - Maybe leave a note? You were unsure, hand swimming amongst the fabric of your thick jacket. You could leave a note, though he had enough papers on his desk already; Perhaps a sketch? Your ridiculous yet compelling idea was cut off as the shift of the wooden panels beneath your feet shifted, steps padding toward you in a slow practiced manner.

The fire still crackled quietly as you turned, holding your folded jacket over your bare chest as he approached you slowly, lips slightly ajar. Thomas dawned his undershirt, buttons loosely undone, sleeves rolled up and suspenders pulled tight over his wide shoulders. His slacks were wrinkled, unbuttoned, hair ruffled. Surely he had to know how he practically oozed sex appeal, ciggarette hung between his index and middle finger as he sauntered closer. You could nearly feel his breath against your own when his steps came to a stop, eyes gliding over your shifting expression.

"Terribly cold this early in the morning."

Thomas murmured faintly, voice crackling with the veil of exhaustion that still shackled him. The sun had hardly passed through the clouds that stuffed the morning sky, clogging the sunrise with a thick shadow. The light in the room shifted, the sun caked in pillowed clouds. He was right. You were awfully cold. Steadily, you dropped the coat from your hands - You hadn't gotten far in getting dressed, only able to pull on your underwear and socks before Thomas caught you. Was that correct to feel like you had been caught? You wondered how long he'd been watching.

"Are you cold, Mr.Shelby?"

You asked, hands reaching forward for your palms to meet his chest. It was sturdy, his eyes following yours, blinking slowly as his arms moved to instinctually draw you closer. One arm hooked around your middle, the other that still held the ciggarette over your shoulder. With a shake of his head, his palm rubbed your back in small circles. It was warm, thawing the rising goosebumps that gardened over your body.

Your heart pounded as you pressed against him. Just his touch was enough to send swimming waves of new sensations through you. You wanted his touch - wanted to cling to him in a way that was almost desperate. But the warmth he offered was not the only kind you wanted; You wanted to burn. You wanted his fire, his passion, his heat. You wanted to feel his teeth and his nails. You wanted him to consume your meaning, take your mind and bend it to something you could never begin to imagine.

He was more dangerous now to you than ever. No amount of guns, no explosions or bloodshed would quite tear you down as much as the look in his eyes in this moment. Recognition. Understanding. It felt real, you wanted so badly for it to all be real, to be - In love. To try, atleast.

You should have run the moment he set his eyes on you. Far away, further than he could ever find you.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke clouding his expression as he leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You shied away from the sudden contact, but he only pulled you closer.

“Come here.” His voice was rough with exhaustion, yet still commanded a cold respect. You could feel yourself being drawn in ever-closer to his warmth, his strength, his presence. You couldn’t help but lean into it; To yearn for it. The cigarette dangled casually from his lips, a small puff of ash falling to the floor before he plucked it, flicking it away from you in a quiet movement. He didn't even bother to glance where it landed as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You were trapped within the grasp of desire, both the desire to run and the desire to give in. To fall from the world, let it slide away as his hands caught your hips, unwavering and strong. He didn't need to stronger and bigger than you, there was no threat. You didn’t need to be afraid. His lips were gentle, tasting of smoke and whiskey. You pressed back, feeling a burst of heat racing throughout your body; His lips tasted the same as the night prior, yet the gentleness of his pace was in stark contrast to it. In a slow shift, your hands gripped the loose collar of his shirt, keeping him close. He took slow breaths between the slow kiss, eyes lulling open to admire you in a half lidded gaze before letting the fall shut, leaning in once more. It was nearly like he was fighting himself; His urges, how they so tightly clutched his mind, binding him to you like an altar, worshipping you with his hands as they fell and swept over your curves.

The kiss enraptured you, and then it was gone. His hands remained on you, coming to a slow pause on your hips as his eyes darted to meet yours - Thomas Shelby didn't hesitate, so why now? You pursed your lips slightly, as if trying to relive the feeling of his own pressing against them.

"This evening, Charles Alabastor will be having a private party at his estate; I'd like you to accompany me. Seeing as your family will be invited."

Your throat dried - Business. There was always the bitter tang of it, lingering the sips of whiskey and rough drags of rolled tobacco. Even you could feel it, wishing to kiss every inch of that taste, relieve him from the weight of it. Though you knew all too well, even as his palm held your cheek, patience would surely reward you.

"I'm not sure I have anything to wear."

There it was again, the small buckle of praise pulling at the corners of his lips as his hand swept from your cheek towards your collar bone. The backs of his fingers were cold, gently brushing over your warm skin as he gave a low shake of his head.

"You're unsure about quite a bit."

Had Thomas Shelby just mused at you? You nearly couldn't belive it. The man who ran Birmingham stood with you in the dark of his office, hair ruffled and a smile on his face - Playfully bickering with you? You couldn't help but mirror the expression, eyes darting down to the floor with a quiet sigh. Maybe that comment had been a last ditch effort to get away, a final subconscious excuse to not to fall; And if you did fall, atleast do it while running, not in his arms, urging for him to become impossibly closer to your body.

It was a feeble attempt.

"I may have something."

"Something is good."

He was a quick one. The more you spoke, the more he did in turn, bouncing from your energy without missing a beat in that cold voice. The draft of his tone came with the presence of his smile, warming the corners of his words as his hands pressed to your hips once again, pulling you closer. You caught yourself then - You wanted to know him. To know what makes him tick, how he takes his tea, who he loves and cherishes, who he'd die for. Was it so wrong? You could see it, somewhere beneath the surfaces of his sharp gaze, to be wanted. Or maybe just held. Perhaps that would do for now, you thought.

Thomas accepted your head leaning against his chest, holding you to his body now with a slow sway. It felt almost like dancing, the creak of the floorboards underfoot making way for a deep symphony, rooting itself in your mind as you matched his pace. Intimacy, the only word you could use to describe the moment as your bare chest pressed to his, your heartbeat rushing in tune. Percussions crashed as you lifted your head, love letters written themselves in your mind, sealed when your lips met his once more. He accepted this as well, eyes falling shut and fingers instinctively slipping to your thighs. He squeezed slowly, taking his time to feel you, understand how you moved against him - This is why he waited. Thomas wanted to experience you.

Your heart thrummed as his grasp pulled you towards his now moving body, stepping backwards and leading you to his bedroom - It was small, a temporary place to sleep during late nights at the office, yet none of it mattered as your back met the mattress. You swallowed, throat drying at the sight of his back turned to you, closing the door with one hand and shrugging off his suspenders with the other. His shoulders were wide, the white undershirt tightening over his body as he pulled his over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he turned. His gaze met yours in a silent beat, eyes lulling over your body, savoring it's vulnerable pose - And in a slow movement, he was on the floor before you. It felt wrong, reversed; Yet even as he knelt before you, he was in control. As his fingers worked your stockings down your legs, stark blue eyes pinning you to the spot as his rough palms groped over your thighs. You watched, legs opening for him slightly with a hitched breath, cheeks flushing. Last night, he hadn't gotten this close, this intimate - Yet as he pushed a warm kiss to the inside of your thigh, it began to melt away. His tongue slid greedily over the skin, teeth nipping as he traveled lower, going to gently rub your heat over your underwear with his thumb. He moved in slow circles, pressing into the cotton as his teeth sunk into your flesh with a quiet groan. You shuddered quietly, hips rocking into his thumb as your eyes stayed on his expression - It was as if work never existed. Business was a waste of time in comparison to simply tasting you. The budding warmth of his tongue replaced his thumb, soaking the underwear with a teasing chuckle. It was unexpected, riddled with a distinct darkness, his teeth pulling at the waistband - It was slow. Agonizingly slow as he pulled down steadily, keeping his eyes on yours until your damp underwear hit the floor.

Thomas' mouth was always warm when he kissed you, yet the heat that spread through your veins as he pressed his lips to your clit, a fire began to light itself deep within you. Your back arched instinctually, body shifting over the mans creaking mattress as you attempted to draw him closer to you. Your hands slid over his shoulders, threading through his hair as you sighed softly, content with the tease of what was to come. His tongue began slowly at first, the flat of it sliding obscenely between your folds as a pace that demanded your absolute attention. You could feel the tip of his tongue prod lightly against your entrance, dragging it until it reached your clit once again, lips wrapping over it with a pleased hum. You took in a sharp breath, hips flinching as your legs made a weak attempt to close them, the feeling of his teasing edging closer to a sparking pleasure you knew all too well. But not even a moment after you moved, his large hand came to palm at your thigh, pinning it down roughly to the bed; His eyes were closed, focused on the taste of you on his now lashing tongue, other arm hooking over your opposite hip to keep you in place despite your growing writhing.

The fire grew, each whip of his tongue against your clit stoking the insatiable flames that knashed at your body. It was electric. Nearly impossible. New to you, the sensation of a man like him knelt before you, messily lapping up anything you were willing to give him, letting your arousal run down his chin and jaw. The noises he drew from you were angelic, sliding through the fogging air as sweat dewed on Thomas' brow; In contrast, the sound of his tongue invading your body and mind was obscene. Messy, saliva stringing from his tongue as he groaned deeply against your sensitive body. The fire sparked dangerously, hot coals threatening to spill over the edges of what you could control - It would set the whole city ablaze, surely. You gave a sharp yelp as his fingers moved to spread you open, diving as deeply as you would allow him, tongue darting in and out as you wrenched your eyes shut tightly. It was a hot white flash, body and mind numbing as Thomas moaned on, perhaps even murmuring to himself into your soaked cunt as you came on his lips and tongue, rolling your hips with a drawn out mewl.

A strike of a match brought you to, eyes sliding open quickly as sweat rolled down your temple - Though upon seeing Thomas beside the rather empty bed you relaxed yourself slightly. Glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, a book sat open on his naked lap as his eyes fell to yours; You must have fallen into that blanketing heat, letting it drape over your shoulders in something near an embrace. The chaste expression on Thomas' face was soft, lacing in his furrowed brow as he moved to pull his glasses from his nose. He set them on the small desk in front of him, using his palms to rise from the wooden seat with a quiet grunt. Making his way to you came with a wave of smoke, the smell of his aftershave sharp on your senses as he took a slow seat beside you.

"I found the perfect thing for you to wear."

It was not a request anymore - Hesitantly, you felt yourself give a slight nod as his large hand came to hold your cheek. He mirrored the motion, nodding back to you as his thumb met your chin, lifting your head to find your gaze in the quiet moment.

"Will you accompany me?"

As Thomas spoke your hand met his, fingers intertwining with a soft hum - You wanted so badly to feel it. To step into a room by Thomas' side, dawning clothing perfectly made for you, eyes glued to the pair of you as he wore a smugly proud expression. Yet you knew deep down what it was, and what it had to remain; Business. Though dwelling in your imagination pillowed with the feeling of his lips on your own drew a response.

"Of course."

#bowies fics #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby imagine

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atlas-likes-writing · 5 months

Text

Death in the Family

Characters: Jason Todd/Red Hood, Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Bruce Wayne/Batman

Summary: The world is falling. Dick and Jason are trapped under the rubble of a now-destroyed building. It takes everything to escape.

Word Count: 2325

Tags: Angst, whump, gore, graphic depictions of injuries, death/deaths in the past, swearing (but nobody actually gives a shit about that), mentions of explosions, angst with a sad ending.

Authors Note: Is the pacing goofy? Yes. Do I care? No. I will be paying in advance for everyone's therapy bills regardless. This fic was inspired by the movie "Fall" on Netflix! Let me know if you want me to tag you in my fics!

Masterlist | AO3

@qcomicsy

It’s as if the world is falling. Everything feels so heavy. An uncomfortable weight lies on his chest. Moving doesn’t help. It instead makes it worse. A disgusting feeling of wetness coats the side of his face. Is it sweat? Tears? He can’t tell. His body is heavy. His eyelids are heavy. Maybe he should just stay there. Slip into sleep again. Maybe then that weighted feeling will leave him.

“-Bird!”

A tiny voice sounds out in the dim. That’s peculiar. What’s the importance of a bird right now? He’ll figure that out when he wakes up. He’s too tired to care right now.

“Jaybird!”

The voice is clearer now. Louder, but not to the point of deafness. Loud in the way your parents are loud when they yell at you from downstairs to tell you that dinner is ready. It’s distant. Muffled. Like someone has put earmuffs over his ears.

“For goodness' sake, Jason! Wake up!”

That’s what got his eyes to snap open. When he does, he’s met with almost pitch black. His arms are pinned to the ground beneath him by sharp stones. No, not stones. Boulders. His left arm has clearly snapped at the force of them falling on top of him. The dull throb that emanates from the now useless limb is soon to crescendo, but for now that’s all it is; a dull throb. It’s now Jason realises that the uncomfortable weight isn’t just the feeling of impending doom as he originally thought. It’s a slab of concrete. Thick and jagged and it’s digging into his torso, surely leaving bruises in its wake.

He begins to panic when the dust begins to settle on his eyelids. How long had he been down there? He shifts around, attempting to move any of the debris that fell on him. Immediate regret shoots through him; as does a sharp, blinding pain in his leg. He cries out. The sound of it is gravelly and clogged as if something is stuck in his esophagus. The dust around him coats everything. His skin, his helmet (which he now realises is broken), his tattered costume; everything. It sticks to the interior of his throat and makes speech scratchy.

“Nightwing?” he calls out to the darkness, “What happened? Dick? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Jason. Had me worried for a second there,” the voice of his brother breaks through the cracks between the rock. Relief floods through the younger man.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he responds. “Where are you? Are you injured?”

“I’m fine, Jaybird. Only a couple scratches. You’re the priority right now. Keep talking to me, okay? Do you remember what happened?”

What did happen? The vigilante ignores the pounding in his head in an attempt to recall the happenings of the past thirty minutes. His mind is filled with the images of a battle with the Joker. Jason broke down at the sight of him, and his distraction resulted in the C4 at the base of the high-rise building to explode, falling directly on top of them as a result. The two men are lucky to be alive. It’s a miracle Dick scraped away with only a few bruises and scratches.

Yeah, Dick is apparently far luckier than Jason right now.

“The fucking Joker,” Jason spits. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Let’s focus on getting out of here first, eh? We don’t know if the rest of the family are trapped under here as well.”

Dick’s defusal works. Jason breathes in deeply to calm his nerves. His eyesight begins to adjust to the darkness, and he can make out his surroundings more clearly.

“Right. Yeah. You’re right. Where are you? I can’t see you anywhere.”

“I’m next to you, Jason. Through this gap in the rock,” Dick replies. At his words, Jason tilts his head as far as his predicament will allow him (which, predictably, is not very far), and the eyes of his brother shine out in the dim between two large rocks that separate them. They’re bright and unmoving and make Jason relax a little. They always seem to have that effect. The constancy of them always ooze safety and competence no matter the situation. He’s Nightwing. His gaze can make even Batman feel safe. All it takes is a meaningful look and Jason feels calmer almost immediately.

The younger man moves his head back to its original position, looking up at the debris instead of to the side. He closes his eyes, before throwing his head back onto the ground in frustration.

“Fuck! This is my fault,” he exclaims.

“We both know that’s bullshit,” Dick replies. Jason fights the urge to tut at him mockingly for his colourful language. “That man beat you to half-to-death and then caused the building you were in to explode. Nobody is blaming you for acting the way you did. This is not your fault. Stop blaming yoursel-"

“People could be dead, Dick.”

That shuts him up.

The two brothers lie there in silence for a while before Jason speaks up again.

“We should be dead, Dick.”

“How come?”

“What are the chances of us making it this far? You’ve been a vigilante since you were what, eight? You’ve been in the game almost as long as Bruce, and yet here you are.”

Dick remains quiet. Jason continues.

“Me? I did die. Quite horrifically, might I add. Yet here I am.” Jason opens his eyes and turns back to his brother. “Why am I not dead?”

“Because it wasn’t your time.”

“Then when is my time?”

“Not right now, if you’re wondering.”

Now it’s Jason’s turn to be silent.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” Dick states, “Now is not the time for you to talk like you want to give up.”

“I’m legally classified as dead, Dick. There is a gravestone in the gardens of the Manor with my name on it. I’m already halfway there.”

“And? You’re alive right now, right? Is that not excuse to keep on living?”

Jason sighs, a heavy exhaustion settling like bricks on his body.

“Fuck you, man.”

“What for?”

“For being right.”

Dick’s eyes remain trained him, steady and still. It’s almost unsettling. The older of the two speaks up, this time with humour in his voice.

“I’m always right,” he says, a smile evident in his voice despite the fact that Jason can’t see the lower portion of his face. The younger brother chuckles, the sound scratchy and harsh.

“Now that’s bullshit.”

The silence that follows is comfortable despite their surroundings. Jason closes his eyes, a faint smile on his face. He could fall asleep here and be perfectly content with it. A heaviness presses on his eyes as he begins to drift off.

“Jason! Don’t close your eyes.” For the second time in the span of about five minutes, his eyes snap open in shock. They flutter for a moment, and he lets out a disgruntled groan.

“I’m tired, Dick. I want to sleep.”

“I know you want to, kiddo, but I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Bruce will never forgive himself if you end up dead.”

Jason scoffs. “Fuck that. He’d get over it as soon as the funeral’s over.”

“Yeah right,” Dick replies. “You didn’t see how he treated himself after the first time. He nearly destroyed himself.”

“Let’s put the emphasis on nearly, hm?” he spits into the darkness. “If I was in his position, I would have torn the world apart if he had-”

“Bruce isn’t you, Jason!”

“What. And you are, Golden Boy?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“What did you mean then?”

An audible sigh is heard from the other side of the boulder but the older of the two brothers otherwise stays silent. Jason closes his eyes again, this time out of regret.

“Shit. Look, Dick. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t waste oxygen arguing.”

“You’re right. We shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

It’s at this point when an audible drip of something falls onto the rocks behind Jason’s head. His eyebrows knit into a frown at the sound. What was that? Is there water above them? If so, maybe they could use it to find which way is up so they can escape.

Another drip, this time closer to his head. He can’t see the droplet of whatever it is falling from the ceiling of debris. Is it coming from the side? He turns his head away from Dick to look for the source. In the dim, he can make out a puddle of something next to his head. He squints his eyes, and he sees that it’s red.

Oh.

Red. Crimson. It’s blood.

His blood.

He’s bleeding.

The thing coating the side of his face isn’t sweat or tears. It’s his own blood.

Oh God.

Was the space he was trapped in always this claustrophobic?

Was this smell of death always present?

His chest is tight. His throat is closing. The pounding in his head heightens.

A short way above him, he can hear his family. They’re shouting for him. They’re shifting rubble and debris. They’re trying to reach him. They’re shouting for Dick. Dick is shouting back.

They can’t hear him.

“Jason! Shout! Let them hear you!”

He does so. He shouts. He screams. He yells. He yells for Bruce. He yells for Tim. He yells for Steph. He yells for anyone who might be there to save him.

“Red Hood? Is that you?” He hears his father’s voice.

“Bruce!” Jason replies. “It’s me! Help me!”

“Keep shouting, Jaylad. We’ll find you!”

He continues to yell for his father. His voice quickly growing hoarse from the dust that sticks to his windpipe. Beside him, Dick urges him to keep going.

“Keep shouting, Jason! Keep it up! Don’t stop!”

It’s only when light spears through the rubble and debris is pulled away that he stops. Tears stream down his face as the now unsettled dust falls on top of him all at once. He squints as his eyes try to adjust to the newfound light. The boulders pinning his broken arms are lifted and the slab of concrete is removed from his ribs. Strong arms lift him up and out of the pit he was in moments before. Bruce was always able to lift him as if he weighed nothing. Now is apparently no different. He’s picked up and cradled by his father like a child as he’s taken away from the hell that trapped him. He hunts for his family amongst the destroyed remains of the building that fell on top of them. He sees Tim. Damian. Steph. Duke. Cass. Carrie. Harper. Kate. Everyone. They’re all there. They’re all safe.

But they’re missing someone.

“Dick! You left Dick!” Jason’s voice cracks. Bruce gazes at Jason, the eyes behind the cowl seem sad. Defeated. It’s an unnatural look on the man. The Dark Knight shouldn’t look defeated.

“I’m sorry Jason,” Bruce soothes. He sounds broken. Why does he sound broken?

“What? No. Can you not find him? He’s there! He was right next to me!” he exclaims. Jason looks over Bruce’s shoulder to see his family gathered around the hole he was pulled out of. Steph is crying into Tim’s shoulder, his hand rubbing her back in an attempt to calm her. Damian is on one knee; the blade of his katana is stuck into the ground in front of him with his head lowered as if in prayer. Kate puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. What are they doing? Can they not find him? Jason feels like a child. Helpless and ignored.

As he continues watching, he sees a flash of black and red fly into the pit. There’s silence for a moment before he sees Connor Kent bring the limp body of Dick Grayson out of the rubble. From where Jason is, he can see the teary eyes of the Kryptonian and his heart sinks to the ground.

He doesn’t want to look down from Connor’s face. He doesn’t want to see the truth of it. He saw Dick in the rubble moments ago. He was alive! He was well! He only had a few scratches. He said it himself! He-

“-was dead on impact.”

His eyes are open, but the usual shine is gone. They’re glassy and dead.

What?

No.

That-

That doesn’t make sense.

“But he was talking to me! I heard him speak!” Jason exclaims. Bruce shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he states, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“You’re gaslighting me? Really?”

“He didn’t talk to you, Jason. I promise you that.”

Jason looks down from his brother’s eyes, unbelieving. He knows what he heard. Dick was speaking to him as clearly as his father does now. He was speaking right into his ear, for heaven’s sake! He looks at Dick’s mouth as if to disprove his father’s words.

Or rather, where Dick’s mouth should be.

His jaw is gone. Probably smashed by a rock on impact. The hinge hangs uselessly on Connor’s arm. It’s grim and ugly. Jason can’t look away despite himself.

“They say that,” Bruce begins, “sometimes, when someone is in a life-or-death scenario, their brain hallucinates a loved one as an act of self-preservation.”

The puzzle pieces are locking into place. The fact that Dick’s voice is what woke him up in the first place is making sense now. The fact that Jason never saw the lower portion of his face is making sense now. The smell of death wasn't coming from him. The unblinking, still eyes wasn’t a knowing gaze, he was fucking dead and Jason didn’t realise. He was stuck in a hole with the corpse of his older brother, and he didn't fucking know. But Dick saved Bruce from having two dead sons that day.

Even in death, Dick Grayson is always there to keep you safe. I suppose he is luckier in that respect.

Should I do a part 2 to this?

Reblogs appreciated!

Masterlist

#dc comics #batfamily #gotham #batman #dc #red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #angst #whump #angst with a sad ending

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