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the-travelling-witch · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: scaramouche/ wanderer :: venti :: kaveh :: zhongli x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died, arson [scara], alcohol consumption [venti, kaveh]

genshin impact masterlist || a million miles away- belle

the loneliest [pt. 2 - xiao, kazuha, aether, childe]

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

“Come back to me, and stay by my side I feel my heart shake; come, ease this ache..."

Dull amethyst eyes watched in apathy as the golden flames swallowed the edge of the picture, slowly singeing away your smile, then the arm you had thrown around his shoulders and lastly his hand holding you close by the waist, until only small flakes of grey ashes remained and fluttered to your lover’s feet.

The silence around him was too loud, pressing on his ears and threatening to crush his skull. Letting his gaze sweep through the space you’d once lived in together made his chest constrict like vines wrapping tighter around his ribcage the more details he took in. Every chair, every tea cup, every stray piece of paper brought back memories of you, together with the bitterness of knowing he’d never get to hold you in his arms again.

It was then that he realised, getting rid of all your possessions, every picture you’d taken and every gift you’d given him wouldn’t be enough. Your presence had long since invaded every corner, nook and cranny of this house, the space irreversibly intertwined with you. And now that your physical form had faded, your soul had come back to haunt his every waking moment and to even follow him into the depths of his dreams.

Perhaps this was his divine punishment, the atonement for all the sins he had committed clinging to his newly taken form. Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all, only his mind mocking him for not living any and every moment with you to the fullest, not giving you all of him when he had the chance to.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have to cut all ties with this place in order to rid himself of the shackles he found himself bound by. Even if it meant reducing the centre of your shared happiness to cinders.

As he laid the fire, meticulously making sure no room of the house was spared, he wondered. How would a real human feel in a moment like this? Would they also feel nothing? Or was it just him, an artificial puppet, who’d only feel numbness at the death of his loved one? Were any of his feelings real in the first place? You’d have deserved someone who actually loved you and cherished your memories, not someone who destroyed the very place you’d called a home.

The flames singed the ends of his clothes the same colour as your photo as he stepped out into the evening breeze, which now carried smoke and the smell of burning wood with it. Even as he watched the roof cave in and the support of the house break away, he felt no sadness, yet the vines seemed to creep only deeper between his ribs, snaring around the place where a heart should beat.

Your lover looked around the area where your home once stood. And it felt like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

There, between two trees, grew the flower you had loved so much. And was that your favourite dish he could smell? A flock of birds flew overhead, probably to escape the fire, reminding him of the ones you’d fed over winter, the ones he reprimanded you not to spoil.

To his horror, the more frantically he searched for something which wouldn’t bring back thoughts of you, the more images flooded his brain. The force of his realisation brought him to his knees as he stared at the damage he’d done with his mind clear for the first time in days. There was a pressure building behind his eyes and his throat tightened uncomfortably, constricting airways he didn’t need. Was this what happened when humans cried?

“I’m sorry.” It was barely there and completely broken at the same time. The weakness he’d so despised in others overwhelmed him as embers swirled high in the sky.

He was a fool, a complete and utter fool, to think he could ever get rid of you, of his feelings for you. It had never been the house you were bound to. From the very start, your soul had been intricately intertwined with his, and it would continue to be, until he too faded from this world in the distant future. Hopefully, then, you would be reunited and you could forgive him.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

"...I'm standing over here, reaching for you A million miles away, come back and stay..."

Venti had no idea how much time had passed since that day. Not that he as an archon was very good at keeping track of time spans as short as days or weeks in the first place. It wasn’t like he avoided thinking about you, no. He did. A lot, actually.

Before his mind’s eye, the shine of your smile and the sparkle in your eyes as your joyful laughter rang through the air was as clear as day. The days spent lazing around in the grass with cider and apple tarts while Venti hummed a lazy tune filled him with more warmth than the sun. Yet, his smile at the memories didn’t quite reach his eyes, just how his brain never reached the point where he’d seen you last. And he never strained himself to remember it either.

All his actions felt heavy, like an invisible weight was holding him down. Venti was sure if he were to use a wind glider, he’d fall out of the sky like a stone. Thinking was akin to walking through mud, every step hardly leaving the ground and every fibre of his body screaming at him to stop and just lie down.

After your funeral was held, most of Mondstadt’s citizens reckonned they’d find the usually playful bard at the tavern even more often from now on. At first, that was true. Venti sat down at his usual table and ordered what he’d always ordered but the other patrons quickly caught on that he wasn’t doing okay at all. Normally the centre of attention and excitedly talking to anyone who’d listen, it was shocking to see the bard stare down on the contents of his glass in silence.

So it came as quite the shock when after a few days, Venti didn’t show up to the Angel’s Share anymore. In fact, he was hardly spotted around the city at all. It was mostly the guards from the morning and night shift who saw him come and go. When he left, there were only two locations where one could find him. Either on the windy peak of Starsnatch Cliff or in the arms of the tree at Windrise. Both would do, as long as he was away from the pitiful glances people would throw him.

On that particular day, Venti was mindlessly strumming his lyre to the sound of the rustling leaves as he overlooked the planes of Mondstadt, not actually taking in any of the sights. His mind was here and there, not lingering on any one thought very long. Before coming here, he’d overheard people in town wonder about the wind which had recently picked up, how it tasted a lot saltier, as if coming from the sea, how unusually cold it was for this time of year and how it bit at the skin more. He supposed that was true.

In the beginning he’d brought a basket of apples when he came out here but they all tasted as if he’d taken a bite out of a handful of flour, so he stopped. All the cider tasted bitter and wine only added to the constant pressure building behind his temple. So Venti eventually gave up on trying to find something he could stomach. It wasn’t important to an archon anyway.

The melody his hands subconsciously called into existence snapped him back into the present. It was a song he had started writing with you as his muse, a song he’d not yet shown you, wanting to wait until it was finished, no matter how much you begged for him to show you already.

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded foreign. As the patron god of Mondstadt’s bards, he’d always prided himself on his smooth and serene voice. But now it was nothing but a hoarse whisper, cracking as he tried to voice the words he’d engrained in his mind. His vocal cords felt raw and burnt after hardly talking to anyone longer than he had to. In the corner of his eyes, the statue depicting his image seemed to mock him; a bard who couldn’t sing, a god who couldn’t even protect a single person.

When he reached the part of the song where he left off faster than he’d like, his hands were trembling and he slumped against the tree bark in exhaustion. Yet, with your memory in mind, he willed himself to continue, to capture your spirit in his art at least, if he couldn’t hold onto you any other way.

Despite his best effort, what started out as a lovestruck ballad quickly turned into a lament, no matter how he filled the lines with affection and joy. He tried and tried, with more vigour than he’d shown in the last weeks altogether, to right the verses, to do your image justice, but it was all in vain. Every version was more sorrowful than the last. When the moon peeked through the twigs, he resigned himself to his fate and cast his gaze to the far heavens above.

“My darling dove, can you hear me?” He whispered into the still night air. Only the distant call of an owl answered him. “I hope this song reaches you all the way up there. I really wanted to play it for you.”

Leaning his head back, Venti was suddenly overcome with a tiredness he hadn’t experienced for a very, very long time. Now was as good a time for a slumber as any, he supposed. Perhaps by the time he opened his eyes again, things would be different and his chest would feel light as air once again.

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"...No matter how far the memories may be When I close my eyes, you're all that I see..."

It was his fault.

The reason he’d never get to throw himself into your arms ever again was him, and him alone.

If he hadn’t answered your question whether he’d like you to get the materials he needed for his newest project from the Akademiya with a 'That’d be a big a help, my rose' he could still call you that nickname now and in the future. If he’d just gone and gotten them himself, you’d never been caught up in that horrible accident, an experiment gone astray, as the mahamatra had explained to him. If he hadn’t been so selfish, you’d still be alive.

Deep down, a reasonable part of him knew he wasn’t to blame. His friends had emphasised that as well, nobody could have expected something so gruesome to happen. Still, Kaveh couldn’t accept it. It didn’t feel right to excuse himself like that. You died because you wanted to help him, he deserved to carry this blame, this pain, this guilt.

Despite Tighnari and Cyno showing up to console him, Kaveh turned them away without much hesitation. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of wine, the architect disappeared into his room, sparing his roommate not so much as a glance. This behaviour didn’t change much over the next few days, except for the fact that wine was swapped with coffee, thanks to Al-Haitham.

Speaking of the Grand Scribe, he’d normally be happy to have some peace and quiet, yet, seeing the normally talkative blond isolate himself for days on end made him genuinely worry for his old friend. Neither of them acknowledged the way plates of food would appear in Kaveh's room or how he would wake up with a blanket draped over him which hadn’t been there when he fell asleep.

There was a single instance in which Kaveh spoke and it was only a single word. When Al-Haitham had been cleaning up around the house, he’d picked up a vase holding sumeru roses that had wilted beyond recognition. Just as he was about to discard the flowers, there was a low, muttered ‘Don’t’ that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t so much the word in itself as it was the way Kaveh said it. The roughness in his voice was so foreign from its usual melodic lilt, no emotion swinging in it at all.

Al-Haitham faintly remembered how you had brought the roses over one day when you two had gone on a date and wordlessly put them back on the table.

In general, not many of Kaveh’s -and by extension your- possessions moved at all, collecting dust as they lay just like on the day of your passing. The only thing that changed was the growing pile of scrolls and papers littering the architect’s room. In order to get his mind off everything, Kaveh had buried himself in work. Yet, none of his sketches turned out to his liking and he grew more frustrated and irritable the more crumpled or ripped papers covered the floor. Never before had he broken this many pencils as a consequence of jabbing the coal onto his designs and pressing down harder than necessary.

Until he found himself staring down on a completely blank sheet with no idea whatsoever. All utensils were strewn about the space, discarded and never picked up as dreary and washed-out crimson eyes drooped without the mercy of sleep overcoming him. Every time he tried to rest, your face and voice would startle him awake again and he’d choke on the breath he tried to take.

With his hair unkempt, clothes rumpled and dark circles under his eyes, the “Light of Kshahrewar” was merely a shadow of his former self as he hunched over his messy desk. The first sobs tearing through him broke the dam on all the feelings he’d bottled up inside, burning his throat like acid as they tore free. The previously untouched scroll served as a canvas for all his regrets spilling over in the form of falling tears, drawing a portrait of his tumultuous state of mind.

Still, the sinking weight in his chest prevailed, the guilt a constant reminder of the loneliness he couldn’t shake.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

"...Come back to me A million miles away, come back and stay”

Zhongli had been setting the table for when you came home from work, two tea cups already waiting to be used as a kettle of water boiled on the stove. Soon the pleasant aroma of tea leaves and the cheery sound of your voice would fill your shared home, Zhongli plating two bowls of bamboo shoot soup as he waited for you to come home.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door and he quickly made his way over, elated to finally be in your presence again. A genuine smile graced his lips as he opened the door, a smile that fell abruptly when he came face to face with two millelith, their faces decidedly neutral. Still, the air felt ominously sombre.

“Mr. Zhongli?” One of them confirmed before bowing his head as continued. “We are sorry to inform you that there has been an armed robbery. The person who is registered to live here with you has unfortunately not survived the violent encounter. Our deepest condolences.”

After handing him the bag you always carried with you, the soldiers departed, leaving the consultant alone with his thoughts. As in trance, he sat down and carefully opened the bag, almost as if a sudden movement could make it crumble in between his fingers.

Considering his incredibly long lifespan, this was hardly the first time Zhongli had lost someone he cared for deeply. That, however, didn’t mean it was any easier. Parting ways with loved ones was something any sentient being couldn’t get used to, especially if it happened so suddenly.

While his mind had already processed the information, it seemed his heart had a hard time keeping up with what was happening, his mind in a strange limbo between reality and thought as he unpacked your belongings. While turning each one over between his gloved fingers, Zhongli tried sorting out his emotions. Even the sweetness of shared moments replaying in his mind couldn’t sugarcoat the bitter sting of grief taking root in his very being.

The shrill screeching from the tea kettle drew his attention away from the items on the table occupying the space where you’d usually link your hands as you traded stories of what happened in your respective days.

For a few seconds that felt like aeons, Zhongli held the tea kettle in his hand before ultimately deciding to brew tea after all. Perhaps it would help him retain a sense of normality. Before he realised, he’d already filled your cup, an action he was so used to it apparently became routine at one point. With a sigh, he did the same on his site before taking a seat again and watching the ripples of water move across his cup.

When he awoke the next day, Zhongli couldn’t tell how long he had sat like that or when he’d gone to sleep, his motions automatic as if pulled by strings. Making breakfast, getting dressed, staring out of the window into the busy harbour… He was aware he was doing all of these things, yet he didn’t feel fully present, merely looking onto the scene.

Being with you had shown him so much of what mortal life had to offer, your perspective refreshingly different from his own, he couldn’t help but smile melancholically at the memory. In light of your brilliance, perhaps the old god had no chance but to fall in love. Enveloped in your affection, Zhongli had finally felt like he found his place among the people of Liyue but once more this connection had been severed.

In the late afternoon, a knock sounded through the humble abode yet again. This time, however, it was not the millelith.

“Director Hu, what an honour,” Zhongli politely bowed. “Is there a matter in which you need my expertise?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the young woman said, her crimson eyes seemingly looking straight into him. “I heard what happened, so I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Your concern flatters me, Director. Please do come in.” Stepping aside, he opened the door wider to allow Hu Tao entry.

Gliding right into his living room, she took a seat at his table, gaze sweeping through the room. It was then Zhongli noticed how there were still two cups sitting there, one empty and one untouched.

“Ah, please pardon me. I was not expecting guests on this day.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she gave him an understanding smile. Naturally, in their line of work, both of them had seen many people suffering through the loss of a loved one and it was an understatement to say grief showed many different faces. “I won’t be taking much of your time anyway.

“First of all, I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. An incredible person like them will be deeply missed.” Despite the simplicity, her words were fully genuine. “Take as much time off work as you need, your healing is the most important thing right now. And while I hate to bring business into a personal situation like this, you should think about what kind of ceremony you’ll want to hold. When you have an answer, just tell me and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thank you, that is very generous of you, Director.”

When the house was empty once again, Zhongli gently picked up both cups and poured out the cold tea inside. With the sinking sun dipping Liyue in liquid gold, its former archon commenced his evening ritual. Turning the cup that was supposed to be yours between his fingers, he chose two new ones and set them up with his usual care for details.

As the tea brewed, Zhongli went to retrieve a journal you had gifted him once but which he hadn’t found any use for yet. Taking his place at the now empty table, he dipped a quill in ink as he contemplated what to write.

In the end, he settled for describing his day, just how he would when you’d sit across from him, listening to his stories attentively. He could vividly picture your expression of awe before him, bringing a fond smile to his face. As more time passed, dried flowers or notes you had left him eventually found their way between the pages as well.

Naturally, your loss cut deeper than Zhongli ever could hope to understand. At times it made him feel empty, like the sun would never smile upon him again. And while mourning was an important part of coming to terms with devastating loss, he had learnt over time that wallowing in sorrow and getting swallowed by pain would not honour the life you had lived.

Instead, his priority lay on treasuring every moment where your paths intersected, to preserve a part of you which would remain untouched by corrosion, so you could continue to shine forever like gold in his memory.

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing.

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives.

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you.

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea.

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer.

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms.

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied.

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him.

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him, yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded.

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case).

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought?

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck.

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun - barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say.

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him.

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down.

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it.

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence.

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know.

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din.

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded.

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking.

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours.

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it.

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him.

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee @maharani-radha @kat-r-in

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin angst #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian angst #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars angst #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction

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wreckofawriter · 3 years

Text

Magnolia Final Part

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death

Summary: idk dude just read the other chapters first or this is gonna make no sense

A/n: I did this instead of studying for my finals, also it could probably use a neither round of editing but I was anxious to post it. And I really don't give a fuck if this is historically inacurate all research done for this was from Pirate of the Caribbean.

Part 1 Part 2

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

You considered the stars your friends, their predictability and reserve made them easy to get along with. You had been taught to read their language from your early days of ships and oceans. As a child, you would speak to them, whispering secrets from your bedroom window. Your young nights had been filled with time spent stretching from the top of your magnolia tree to try and grasp their beauty. Even now as you stared up at the heavens you wished to cradle them like priceless jewels, their wonder never faded. But you supposed their mystery is what made them so appealing, everyone wanted something they could never quite reach.

The news of your captured prince had spread like fire in a dry wind, the letters you had sent to Aldir and their neighboring kingdoms throwing many into action. Sirius’s kingdom was large, powerful, and merciless. Some wanted the prince for leverage, many others wanted blood; revenge driving them to empty treasuries and sharpen swords. At first, you had been sitting pretty, letters of bids coming to you at every stop you made. Eventually, prices got too high and kingdoms decided it would be easier to take than to pay.

Ash burned in the back of your throat, you stared at your feet as the second ship that week crumbled into the ocean. Its flames were heavy on your back, reflecting in the greys of the sea. A particularly large crack of the fire made the breath catch in your throat. Your fear of the element had persisted for years filling your nightmares with smoke and screams.

As the distance between you and the defeated ship lengthened your heart began to calm. The air was thick with moisture, purple clouds bruising the dull sky. The ocean was frothy, waves lapping tirelessly at the sides of your ship.

Your mind felt dizzy, the taste of blood still thick in your mouth. Two more men had been lost in the fight which had taken place just minutes ago. One flung into the ocean and the other struck by a bullet. That was six bodies that you had been forced to dump into the sea the past month.

You had to get rid of Sirius before more corpses were to be fed to the sharks. This had never been so strikingly obvious before yet, you hesitated. Nails dug into your palms, the voices in your head fighting a clamoring war. Your feelings were illegible, their messy colors smeared together in an uninterpretable painting. So you threw them away, ignoring the throb in your chest and taking a breath. Sirius was to be sold to the highest bidder and that was that. You felt your past’s grip on your throat loosening. There was only one way to get rid of what used to be, you had to kill it.

Sirius had never been so bewildered before. His life had been a book that was written a thousand times over. The prince falls in love, the queen doesn’t approve, the love runs off, the prince finds the love, and then happily ever after. But life wasn’t as sweet nor simple as a children’s story and this may be the first time that he had ever truly realized that. All it took was the prince to be tied in the love’s basement ready to be sold to his death.

Sirius woke with a start as metal clattered inches from his face. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as his breath slowly returned to his lungs. He stared at the plate which had woken him, it was piled higher than normal with two rolls dropped next to it. He peered up at the giver of this gift.

He recognized the small blonde as the one he had threatened a few weeks before, the fear he had seen in her eyes that moment now replaced with pity, bitter and soft like rotten fruit.

“I wanna talk.” She said plainly, toeing the plate towards him like a bribe, he supposed that’s exactly what it was.

Sirius sat up ignoring the hammer of his head. His hair stuck to his cheek, slick with sweat. The woman whose name he never learned dropped to a squat beside him, a small knife held in her hand. His eyes widened as it glinted in the small gas lamp hanging above his head.

“Relax.” She sighed cutting the rope that tethered his hands behind his back.

Sirius felt his shoulders groan in protest as they fell forward, his wrists aching and rubbed red. Hot pin pricks filled his fingers as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

When he looked back up Adrie was now seated in front of him, her legs crossed. She glanced down at the food and then back up at him, “You can eat if you agree to answer some questions.” Her demands were simple.

He let silence settle for just a moment, “Fine.” After all, what did he have to lose? His dignity? His pride? They had been sleeping with the fishes for ages.

She pushed the plate towards him, watching him quietly as he began to eat, “You don’t look like much of a prince to me.” She hummed after a moment.

Sirius swallowed, licking his lips, “Does anyone after two weeks locked in the bottom of a ship full of scum?"

Adrie cracked a smile, “I suppose not.”

She stared at him still, she was lying a bit. Years held prisoner couldn’t erase the royalty he was raised with, it stuck to him like wet stuck to water. Nothing and everything proved him a prince, you could take his crown but you could never take his title.

“How do you know y/n?”

Sirius was startled by the suddenness of the question but not remotely surprised it was asked, “She hasn’t told you?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if she had,” Adire responded, her tone was blunt.

He bit into a roll thoughtfully taking his time to chew slowly, she was patient, her blank expression, not faltering.

“I thought you were friends.” He mumbled with a full mouth.

Her jaw tightened, “Y/n doesn’t speak of her past.”

“So you’ve come to me for information?” Sirius said mild mockery in his voice.

“Obviously.”

He eyed the woman curiously, she was not what he had expected of your right hand man. Sirius smiled loosely, “You sure you wanna disobey Captain’s orders?”

“Start talking or I take the food and hang you by your ankles.”

Sirius huffed glancing between her and his food, “Fine, you win.”

“Good. Tell me everything.” She demanded.

Sirius felt his throat tighten around the potatoes he had swallowed, his mind ached with hazy memories of summer days and speeding hearts, “There isn’t much to tell.”

“You’re a bad lair.” Adire hummed.

Sirius sighed, eyes falling to the bright white scars which laced his hands. He wasn’t sure where else to start but the beginning. He told of a loud baker girl who snuck over the walls into his garden and brought him pastries and friendship. He continued with vague details, of growing up together with swords and stars, reliving each moment he shared.

He felt his words stiffen as he spoke of falling in love with you. Part of him felt like he was talking of someone completely different. Someone who had burnt up with her parents in a small bakery a million miles away. What was left, muffling cries above him, was a shell of that girl her soul replaced with seaweed and smoke. He pushed the thought away, swallowing it with the lump in his throat as he continued to speak of a proposal he regretted and the consequences of disobeying his mother.

The broken fairytale cut his tongue filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He attempted to wash it down with the rum his listener had brought to him but its flavor was just as bad, it's only redemption was the warmth that filled his stomach.

Adrie looked at him blankly, "I don't blame her for wanting you dead."

Sirius wished she had stayed silent.

"But I pity you, you don't deserve death."

He didn't look up and instead finished his drink, "Your pity means nothing to me."

She sighed standing to her feet, "I never thought it did."

When her boots disappeared up the ladder he let his cup drop to the ground, it rolled knocking into his heel as tears dripped from his chin.

By the time you had dropped anchor just off of Haran, the moisture had dropped from the air. Dry winds and clear skies greeted your crew.

Rowboats were dropped in the water quickly, the sun was setting fast and a night of cheap ale and cheaper women were in the forefront of many a man's heads.

You were tired, the happiness of your crewmates falling short at your feet. Exhaustion had replaced all anger and sadness you had harbored for the past weeks making your eyes grow dull as the bags beneath them. The satchel burned under your arms had a note you had written agreeing to the Yerith King’s price. You had singed your finger on the wax used to seal the envelope, it still throbbed a bit with the unsteady beat of your heart. You tried not to think about much on your way to land instead filling your head with that faint burn and fog of the setting sun.

Adrie watched as you played with the diamond strung around your neck, a new piece she had only seen in recent days. She assumed you had taken it from one of the ships which had recently burnt into the sea. The bright stone was so different from the rest of your jewelry she was surprised you wore it all. Obnoxious gems had never been your type.

She was wrong on this thought, large jewels used to be what you would stare at as you passed shop windows, wishing you had the money to clutch one in your hand. They used to be a dream and a wish, now they were just things you stole and sold to the highest bidder.

Sirius had been briefly told of the plans for the evening. Two men whom he had become somewhat accustomed to during his stay had tied him up. The knots were tighter than usual as they were to be gone for the night. In his usual nature, Sirius complained about the ache of his wrists and the cramps in his legs. His grievances went unheard and his company disappeared from sight. The boat was quiet within the hour, nothing but the creak of old boards and calls of gulls far above his head breaking the silence.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, time passing in its usual way, slowly. Finally, a clear thought came to Sirius’s head, he had the whole boat to himself. That meant there was no one to stop him from escaping his certain and quickly approaching death.

Sirius tried to twist his hands out of the rope for what must have been an hour and only resulted in drawing blood from his wrists. Switching tactics he began to slowly shuffle and roll around the cabin he was in, searching for anything that could cut rope. As the sun’s light began to fade his task was growing difficult. Just before he gave in to his exhaustion Sirius found a bent nail sticking about a centimeter out of the ladder that led to the upper deck. The next two hours were spent rubbing his binds against the dull metal until they finally snapped.

After a month of being held prisoner, freedom left him stunned. He stumbled up the ladder until he reached the ship’s deck. The warm breeze which washed over him felt like a gift from the gods. A smile stretched his aching cheeks and for the first time in a while Sirius Black let out a genuine laugh.

He quickly found a small boat which he could lower to the water. He could be miles away before the sun rose and you found his binds cut. Judging by the port you had stopped at he was only a few days' row from neutral lands. There he could gather himself and write for help. He was saved.

Sirius’s glee was cut short as he realized that he was missing one vital thing; you. The only reason he was out here in the first place was for you. He had spent years following rumors across the sea, he had given up his place as king, he had spent hundreds of thousands on supplies. But the truth was even if he hadn’t done all that, even if he had stumbled across you within a week and spent no more than ten doubloons he still wouldn’t leave this ship alive unless you were by his side.

Sirius cursed, slamming his fist into the deck. His eyes darted around in what felt like panic. He was trapped between your love and his life and while he had chosen the former weeks ago he had no way of securing it.

In the dark, a glint of light was seen. A crate of liquor stowed next to the captain’s quarters revealed itself to the pale moon. The man's mind buzzed, he realized quickly that he would need to act fast, the hours of the dark he had left must be well used.

The deal had been easy, one glance at the large gem and you had a buyer offering hundreds. You walked away with 400 doubloons knowing it was worth much more. Not that you cared, you had been hours from chucking the necklace into the sea.

It was late at night now, the golden light of pubs and brothels spilling onto the gravel road you walked. Your legs still felt weak, they were accustomed to the sway of boats on sloshing waves not the strange sturdiness of the ground. You hadn’t been able to sleep well on land since you had stepped off it, you had always opted for a swinging hammock over a still cot.

You swung your bag of coins round in circles as you made your way to the beach. The water was smooth save the ripple of waves drawn by the full moon. Sand glistened silver under your boots, the light crash of water on rocks echoing around you.

You had never intended to spend the full night on land, your crew was well aware of this fact and none would be surprised to find you gone in the morning. You shoved one of your beached row boats back into the water, splashing about ankle deep before leaping into it.

When you reached your ship, you sensed something was wrong immediately. The small voice which you tended to ignore was screaming in the back of your head. As you climbed onto the deck the strong scent of liquor overwhelmed you. You heard a soft splash and glanced down to look at the puddle you had stepped into. Swiping two fingers through the fluid and plopping them into your mouth you hummed. There was no mistaking the sharp taste of gin. You looked around to find the leak and instead locked eyes with a figure who stood about 20 meters in front of you.

“Sirius?” You asked though you already knew it was him, you didn’t think you would ever forget his face, even if it was obscured by the shadows of the moon.

He gapped at you, unsure of what to say.

You took a step closer and caught a glance of the bottle he held in his hand. Its thin neck was stuffed with a piece of cloth, the soft glow of a gas lamp flickering behind him. The second you realized what he had planned your gun was pointed at his chest.

“Drop the bottle Black.” you hissed with a steady voice despite the fact that your gun was rattling in your hands. Your thoughts were now fogged with fear, plagued by smoke and flames.

Sirius had suddenly found his voice, “I know you’re not stupid enough to fire that. One spark and we’ll both go up in flames.”

Your breaths quickened, vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” You croaked. “Why do you want to ruin everything I’ve built for myself?”

“I’m not leaving without you y/n.” He shouted, “I can’t live without you. Just come with me. Please. Just come with me and it will all be fine.”

You shook your head, “No.”

“Please, please! I need you y/n, I can’t go back without you!” He begged, snatching the lamp from behind him, “I won’t be able to live.”

It was in that moment that you understood he was just as desperate as you, just as lost and hopeless. You dropped your gun to your side, tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. Your throat tightened holding back a sob, “Okay.” You said with a broken voice.

Sirius cracked a small smile, “I knew it.” He sighed, “I knew you still loved me.” Setting down the lamp he opened his arms walking towards you. You met him halfway burying your face into his rough jacket.

“God I missed you y/n,” he whispered as you slipped a knife from under your sleeve.

“I’m so sorry Siri.” You mumbled in response before plunging the blade into his back.

You held him as he collapsed forward, choking back on his own blood. You had begun to sob, hand still clutching the hilt of the blade which was lodged into him. Eventually his weight became too much to bear and you both fell to the ground. Sirius rolled off next to you, his hand still clasped around your own. The two of you started up at the stars listening as his breaths slowed. Just before they stopped completely you felt a small squeeze of your hand and for just a moment you saw the soft pink of a petal floating towards you.

You weren't sure how long you lay there, staring up at the sky but it was long enough for you to finally realize that you were the villain of your story. It was an odd thing to recognize considering in all of the books you had carried as a child you took the place of the protagonist; the one who swung the sword to save the kingdom You had always been the one to end your life with a happily ever after.

Now you had realized that you had never been a hero. You had spent your life as a villain in the making, each step you had taken leading you closer and closer to your undeniable fate of evil. You had your chance to be the princess trapped in the tower, but you had ignored the prince and now took the shape of a witch. A witch who stole and killed and burned all that she hated. Some had to do it after all, we can’t all be heroes. There is no story without a villain, at least not one worth reading.

As much as the small baker girl who rested amongst the magnolia tree would have hated you, the woman you saw when you looked in the mirror was okay with who you had become. And if she was okay with it, then why did it matter what the past would have thought? You had been running from it for years and now you would never have to again. Because now your past ran from you.

taglist:

@april-showers-and-flowers @fleurmoon @chaosinparadise @re-zerohora @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @theweirdobella @fific7 @whitewashedghanianlol @artemis1orion @justmesadgirl @bberree @songforhema @wangmangagavroche @evyiione @atomicpunkrock @fairywriter-oracle @moon-zodiac @secretsofageek @accio-rogers-blog @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @coldlilheart @suseptiable-bur-siriusexual @inglorious-imagines @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @teheharrypotter @sarcasticallywitty15 @rosieweasleyy @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines

so many of u changed ur urls so if I have the wrong person tagged or the wrong username let me know

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oopskashish · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I request a one shot Sirius x reader, where she is James sister, and tells Harry how she fell in love with Sirius at Hogwarts? Let’s pretend that Sirius did not die and Harry went to live with him and reader as a family. Thank you :3

A Promised Family

A/N: I am so so so so sorry for making you wait for so long. I was first thinking of writing everything from how he escaped and all that but damn that was too much. Instead I came up with this idea which seems pretty good to me and I am kind of rough with emotions of a reunion I read 5 minutes ago so I wrote something on basis of that. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Potter!reader, Harry Potter x Potter!Aunt!Reader

Warning: heavy emotions, mentions of death, but there is fluff. And something that SHOULD have been done in the books but Rowling was a bitch to not do that.

Summary: After the war, Sirius, Harry and the reader reunite. They become a proper family as Sirius had promised, and a bittersweet truth from the past comes up.

Y/N ran through the broken halls of Hogwarts. She pushed her tired legs to their limit, her eyes wildly searching for two most important people in her life. She pushed through the crowds which consisted of people sobbing, laughing, hugging, and kissing each other.

But none of that mattered to her right now.

She came to a stop at the gates of Great Hall. Her eyes were somehow aching yet wide ache. She say the Malfoys hurdled in a corner, holding onto each other, Neville's grandmother hugging him tightly, and then finally she saw the spectacled boy.

Her nephew.

Harry Potter.

Her anxiety which was previously rushing along her veins calmed down by a half when she saw him hugging Ron. His brilliant hazel eyes lifted up and she saw tension leave his body as she saw him.

They both ran towards each other, not caring if a crowd was watching them. She enveloped the boy in her arms, holding him close to her as tears she has held back for months come pouring down her face.

She held him just as she did after the triwizard tournament when he was plagued by nightmares of watching that horrifying moment over and over again. When she laid awake at night, surviving on caffeine, because she didn't want to leave her nephew alone to deal with them. She would hold him to her chest and whisper that none of it was his fault.

But now, it seemed like both of them were doing that job without a word. They held onto each other, feeling the gust of relief wash over them in a blissful manner.

Neither of them could imagine what would they do without each other. She raised him through the most painful moments of her life. She raised him into the wonderful human being he is.

There was only one person in front of whom Harry could truly reveal who he is, his deepest of insecurities without having slightest fear of being judged. Whether it was asking how to ask a girl out for a ball or how to tame a dragon, he could trust his aunt with anything, including his tears.

Sobs wrecked his body as he cried into her neck. All the pain he has felt got undone in her arms through his tears. The world seemed to be a place so dark right now and he could only hold onto her to guide him through the dark he was so terrified of.

"Oh my sweet, sweet boy," Y/N whispers, her voice so heavy with emotions that she could break down into sobs at any moment. "You are so brave, so very brave."

For a moment, she reminicsed how she felt when she held her twin years ago. She had almost died during a mission but she survived, pushing death away and bidding it a farewell, she came back to life.

She remembered holding James in her arms so tightly because both of your biggest fears were the same.

Losing each other to death.

She remembered how they both had to hold each other and assure each other that they're alive for the rest of the day, after their boggarts came out to be each other's dead bodies in DADA class.

The marauders could not comfort him, your friends couldn't comfort you. Only each other's presence helped the two of you in both the situations.

And now, she felt just the same as she held Harry.

The pain only seemed to increase as she heard Harry's sob. Each sob shot a wave of pain which tore her soul into innumerable pieces. Each cry emitted a pain that would make cruciatus curse seem like a mere scratch.

"I am here with you, Harry, until the very end." She whispers in his ear, as his sob only seem to increase at her words.

After what felt like infinities, they both parted away, holding onto each other's hand. She wiped his tears away gently, giving him a watery smile that said words he needed to hear.

"Sirius." She heard him whisper as he stared straight ahead.

She exhaled and turned around to find the man she fell in love with in her sixth year. The man for whose innocence she faught so hard. The man whose innocence she proved to the world after the battle of ministry.

The man who could undo her soul just by looking into her eyes with those shiny grey eyes she found comfort in. The man who could make her feel like she is home just by holding her to his chest.

She seemed to still for a moment, as if someone has put a body binding spell on her. She could only look at him.

She noticed how his hair were tied into a little bun which made her knees week every time she saw it. She noticed a deep scratch over his sinfully handsome face which seemed to have stop bleeding.

Harry first hugged Sirius, seeking his warmth he needed so desparately. Sirius held him just as close, muttering words of comfort in his ear as tears whelmed into his eyes.

At that moment, she realised, she wanted nothing more than to be finally at home and bake something while they both prepared the dinner. She wanted nothing more than midnight conversations with Harry and Sirius, with hot chocolate in their hands.

She wanted nothing more than a proper family with them.

After a few moments, the two of them pulled away. Sirius turned to Y/N and he had a desparate look on his face which made her heart beat faster and faster.

She leapt into his arms, holding him by shoulders and one of his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her impossibly close to him and the other went to cup her jaw.

And they kissed.

They kissed each other slowly, desparately, and so passionately. They held onto each other, as if they would lose each other into the oblivion if they let go.

The sadness, tension, happiness, and a million emotions they were feeling right now all accumulated into a kiss they would never forget. They were like letters of a word, clinging to each to have some meaning and value.

Their kiss was so passionate that it could inspire another universe to be formed, sun to shine, and to create another heaven for each other. The universes could collide and the world could topple over but nothing could have broke them apart.

Y/N parted away, tasting salty tears on her lips. She didn't know if it was his or hers, she didn't know how many traumatic nights were to come, she didn't anything at that moment but that she could not lose him again.

"Y/N." Sirius whispered her name as he pulled her closer, resting his hear in her neck and taking in a deep breath of her scent which and calmed him to an incomprehensible extent.

"I thought I might lose you." Sirius squeezed his eyes close when he heard her voice whisper in that desparate tone. That tone which made him want to take away every ounce of pain that was in her and make it his own. It was that tone that made him want to hold her close and shower her with all his love and happiness till she was filled with it to the brim.

"I am here," he whispers, rocking her back and forth slowly. Holding her as the sky hold its stars. "I am here, and nothing can take me away from you. Nothing."

And nothing ever did.

-/-/-/-

It had been an year since the battle of Hogwarts. The final battle which left trauma in hearts of so many people, that plagued so many people's sleep, that left so many people haunted with emotions no one deserved to feel.

It was utter chaos but everything was settling back into place. With Kingsley as the minister, everything went as smoothly as it could. The death eaters, all of them, faced trial and litres of Veritaserum was used on everyone.

Mistakes of past couldn't be repeated afterall.

And in the midst of the chaos in the world. Y/N and Sirius were blessed with children of their own. Twins.

The two of them had been clinging to each other and crying out of sheer delight when they got the fantabulous news. Sirius wanted nothing more than settling down with his wife and godson in a place where they could see the sky and feel the sunshine.

And so they did. A quaint little cottage that had just enough rooms to fill in every detail they needed to have. Harry lived with them, and he would have even against his will because neither Sirius or Y/N were going to let him go after the battle for at least a few years, but luckily he needed their presence just as much as they needed his.

And now, as Y/N talked with George on the dining table, her hand resting on her very pregnant belly as Ginny and Harry prepared the dinner.

George had gotten closer with Y/N after the death of his twin because only she could truly understand how it felt to lose a twin. She helped him through emotions he could barely handle and helped him get back into a new life without twin but still managing to be happy.

They both knew it well that a part of them was dead along with their twin but they had to live on and carry on till they could meet each other again.

George had made a joke which made y/n laugh loudly, throwing her head back as she made a remark which made them laugh even harder.

Sirius smiled as he entered with groceries in his hands and set them on table. He made his way to his wife and kissed her lips and her belly, just as he always did when he entered the room in which she was.

"Hello, darling." He smiled.

"Hi, handsome. Got everything that was needed?"

"Yes, I did. Including your Hershey's chocolates and butterbeer." Y/N grinned and kissed his cheek in delight, already reaching for the bag and rummaging through it to find that chocolate that Remus introduced her to during her pregnancy.

"The cravings have gotten even sweeter?" George asks Sirius.

"You have no idea," Sirius says with a sigh, shaking his head. "Either she is having food which can burn her tongue or sickly sweet food. Or sometimes both at times."

"You put these children in me. Don't complain now." She says breezily, taking a sip of her drink and gave Sirius a glare.

Sirius leaned in and kissed her belly and her cheek. "I would never dream of doing that."

"Good."

Sirius chuckled against her lips and kissed them one more time till he heard three people gag. The couple rolled their eyes and parted away, a little disgruntled.

"Is the dinner ready?" Y/N asks eagerly.

"Yes, Aunt." Harry says, taking the pot off the stove. Sirius got up and helped with him and Ginny to serve while George made the table.

It was almost a rule that y/n couldn't do any household work. Considering she is very near to her expected delivery date and is very heavily pregnant.

At first she threw a fit but when her feet started to swell, she stopped that fit because Merlin knows how hard it is to do chores with them. Ginny had moved in with them recently to help with the pregnancy for which everyone was beyond grateful though she had a little knowledge about it, she was very helpful anyway.

The dinner was served, and y/n had it with a side of chocolate. Her steak was extra spicy, just enough to satisfy her and the babies.

"Have you guys decided the names?" Harry asks them.

"Well, somewhat yes. We are keeping a few options and then we will choose whatever suits the best." Sirius answers him, giving y/n a smile.

"We were meaning to ask you, Harry, if it would be okay if we name one of our sons after James. I will understand if you would want your son to have his name. In that case we can choose another name." Y/N asks him.

Harry thinks for a while before saying. "Actually I never told you this. I am sorry if I cross any boundaries, Sirius, but your brother Regulus was actually a true hero."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, hiding away his pain behind his gorgeous eyes and burying it further in his soul. "What do you mean?"

"Regulus actually hid one of Voldemort's horcrux in his room and had ordered Kreacher to destroy it. He had replaced it with another fake locket. It was what caused his death."

Sirius bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

He remembered how his little brother told him not to runaway, how he told him that they had to be together in this. How when Sirius was pushed to his limits, Regulus tried to comfort him.

He remembered pushing Regulus away and calling James his true brother, leaving Regulus in tears. How he ignored his letters after reading them.

He wished he could have done something different.

Something that would have kept his little brother alive. He realised that Regulus was a boy who didn't have a choice. In the seek of approval of his parents, he did things that he himself didn't approve of.

But he was proud of his little brother, for he managed to be braver than Godric Gryffindor himself. He was proud that at least he realised what is right and what is wrong and acted upon it.

Y/N reached for his hand and squeezed it, she leaned in his ear and whispered.

"My love, it's alright. Please don't worry. None of us could have known his actions."

Sirius nods at her, kissing her knuckles as if it could provide him some sort of comfort. He took a deep breath in and pushed away his doubts which he knew y/n would help him with after the dinner.

"I think you should name one of your sons after him, if you wish to." Harry whispers, unsure if his words are pushing his boundary or not.

Sirius squeezed her hand, gesturing her to speak on his behalf. "Thank you Harry, we will think more about it."

Harry bit his lip. "And if it's okay, can you choose another name or change the one of Dad a little? I always wanted to name my son James."

"Of course, sweetheart." She smiled at him.

And after a couple of weeks, Regulus and Rigel Black were born. Some of the, perhaps, most loved children ever to exist.

Sirius would smile at them as the twins would sleep, happy that his promise of having a family with Y/N and Harry was finally complete in the most lovely manner possible.

-/-/-/-

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General taglist: @bl597 @obsessedwithrandomthings @firewhisky-kisses @pregnant-piggy @remmyswritings @harrypotter289 @mytreec @strawberriesonsummer @yourssuccubus @idont-knowrn

#sirius imagine #sirius x reader fluff #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x potter!reader #harry potter #harry pottee x aunt!reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter forever #harry j potter #harry james potter #regulus black #marauders #fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fandom #fandom #george weasley #ginny weasley

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obeymebabes · 4 years

Note

Hi hi! Could I request a hc with the brothers where Mc does the same thing Clem,from eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind does? Like,MC and the brother breaks up and MC decides to get a procedure to erase him and their relationship? Sorry if this is confusing:(

I unfortunately have never seen the movie so I can't exactly base it on that, but I do like the idea of MC having their memory erased, so I did the best I could.

⚠️ Warning: Absolute pure angst. This broke my heart. Grab the tissues. Seriously, you'll need them. I cried writing every single one of these.

Lucifer

The break-up really hurt him. It hurt his pride, his heart, and his soul. This broken man was now in a million pieces.

Lucifer wasn't isn't very good at receiving kindness, or love, so it was new to him, but he still did his best.

Now, everything he had ever loved had found a way to betray him, and now you belong to that list as well.

Where did he go wrong? What happened? Was he not enough for you? He always tried, even going out of his comfort zone for you.

He would try his hardest not to show how broken down he truly was, not in public. But behind the scenes he would break down, letting the tears fall.

Even with all of his hurt, he always tried to make an effort to smile at you when you passed him in the hall, even though it physically pained him to see your face.

One day after RAD, you passed him in the hallway as you normally do, but he noticed you didn't even bother to look up at him, which was unusual for you.

Turning around, concerned, he painfully uttered your name, "MC?"

You turned around, a confused look on your face. "How do you know my name?" You paused, "Do I know you?"

There goes the rest of his pride. His heart sank. Did you really not remember him? What about your memories together? The relationship you had? All of those special nights you had spent together?

He was left completely speechless. He simply took a breath to try to avoid letting tears form and mumbled "I'm sorry" before fleeing the scene.

Lucifer desperately tried to erase such an awful memory from his mind but his negative thoughts became too much for him.

That night he was a mess, putting every ounce of blame on himself. He drank until it hurt. He cried alone in his room. His broken heart fueled a now drunken rage that tore him apart from the inside, out.

You were the last thing that truly held him together. You were his stability. Now, everything you ever shared was just a memory of his, and only his. How could this happen to him?

Mammon

Mammon never truly processed the break-up. He avoided it like he avoids his debt papers.

In his eyes it never happened. It was just a little fight, right? There was no way either of you meant any of it. He never meant what he said. He was just frustrated. His brothers stressed him out.

Mammon tried desperately. He begged, pleaded, did everything he could to try to convince you to take him back.

The memory of you crying and screaming "I wish I never met you!" haunted him, day after day, night after night.

However the memory never stopped him from trying to win you back.

Having a sudden burst of confidence one night he went down to your room, breathing a deep breath before knocking at your door then letting himself in.

"MC we need to ta-" His words cut short as he noticed the terrified and confused look on your face.

"Are ya okay? Why are ya lookin' at me like that?" Mammon's heart pained at the confused look you gave him.

"Should I know you?" You asked, staring blankly at the demon before you.

"MC, c'mon that ain't funny! Of course ya remember me! I'm The Great Mammon!" Mammon's golden blue eyes were now overflowing as his heart broke all over again as you sat in front of him with a very confused look on your face.

You eventually called for Lucifer, who had to remove his absolute mess of a brother from your room.

From outside of his door, the sound of destruction filled the empty silence of the halls. Through broken sobs he yelled to himself, saying he was nothing but scum.

While the scenes of you both together replayed in his head he couldn't understand how he had let it come to this. He had lost his most precious and treasured gift. You.

Levi

Levi didn't take the break up very lightly.

Night after night he would stay awake, distracting himself by playing games, watching anime, and talking to Henry 2.0.

"Of course this would happen, Henry, no one ever likes me. I'm just a stupid yucky otaku. I'll never be good enough, not like my brothers."

Levi spent many hours sobbing, just heartbroken at the little things that reminded him of you.

He didn't understand where he went wrong. What did he do to deserve this? Why did he have to get so attached to a normie anyway?

Rather than trying to talk to you about it, he hid in his room, making sure to avoid you at all costs.

What Levi didn't realize, is that the memories you shared, were bothering you just as much as they bothered him.

His heart ached, but eventually after being hyped up by his best pal, Henry, he mustered up whatever confidence he had to finally get out of his room and talk to you when he saw you.

He wasn't at all prepared for what was about to happen.

Already shaking like a leaf, his target was aquired. He noticed you were walking towards him. His heart beating out of his chest.

As you neared closer he took a breathe, tried to focus, and spoke up, "MC? C-Can we talk..? About u-us.. please. I-I need to know what happened. I can't take it anymore."

Your blank expression tugged at his already hurting heart, but your words truly felt like a final hit on a boss.

"Sorry, have we met before?" Your voice was calm and pure, indicating to him that you truly didn't know who he was.

Left frozen in shock, he could feel his body tingle, his eyes watering, his chest tighten, his throat left dry.

"N-No, I'm sorry. I-I thought you were someone else.."

When he finally got back to his room, he was both torn, and upset. Envious that you now didn't have to share the guilt and pain of remembering all of the great memories you both shared. He should've known better than to fall in love with a normie.

Satan

As good as he was at controlling his rage, he completely lost all of his cool after you both broke up. His heartbreak overwhelmed his emotions and he was barely able to keep himself in check.

He spent many nights trying to talk himself through the pain, reciting everything that went wrong and how he could've fixed it.

Satan tried desperately to look at the logistical side of this. But his heart hurt too much.

He had spent his time in the library, trying to use books as his way of keeping him grounded. The more he read, the more he realized that the scenes in the books he was reading reminded him of you and everything you shared together.

That was until you casually walked into the library.

His aching heart pained at the sight of you. He wasn't ready to see you just yet, but he maintained the little composure he had left. He had to speak the truth.

"I thought I'd never see you in here again. You know.. I miss you, and I'm sorry that things ended the way they did. I hope you can forgive me for acting like such a fool."

He studied you, but the more he watched, the more he felt his heart crush under the weight of your expressions.

"What? Oh, you're talking to me? Sorry, but I can't say I know who you are. I think you might have the wrong person."

Confused, he watched your puzzled face try to look for any sign of familiarity, "MC, what are you talking about?"

"Sorry, are you the librarian or something? Is that how you know who I am?"

Then it finally clicked in his head. You truly didn't remember him.

This boy was somehow even more shattered than before. His emotions too shocked to form a proper response.

"My apologies, I must get going."

When he finally reached his room, he slammed the door shut, sent into a seething rage from the pain that now flooded his chest, he destroyed his room, books tossed everywhere.

Satan wasn't the same after that. Blinded by the hurt, he went on a rampage, not making any attempts to hide his anger. He was torn apart, angry that he couldn't even do anything to prevent such a disastrous situation.

Now he holds all of your previous memories, and he can't do anything but cry over how much he misses what you had. Before the world around him turned dark.

Asmo

Of course Asmodeus didn't handle a break up very well. He either spent his time sulking around, or he out partying, overspending, and trying to hide the pain that you caused him.

Most nights Asmo would come home absolutely wasted, then eventually cry himself to sleep while he stared, broken-hearted, at the spot that you used to lay.

He wanted nothing more than to forget everything, to start over. He never wanted to lose you the way he did.

His broken heart could barely stand the sight of seeing you, and it was getting to the point where he was even ashamed to look himself in the mirror.

One of his drunken nights he stumbled through the empty midnight halls, tears already streaming down his perfect face.

His glossy eyes met yours as you headed down the hall for a late night snack.

"BABYYY!!" Asmo called, wiping his face before quickly clinging to your frame. He started to sob again, repeating his drunken slurs.

Carefully but with force, you pried the intoxicated demon from your body and looked at him confused.

"Sorry, I don't know who you think I am, but I don't know who you are, or what you're doing, so if you'll just...excuse me..." Your confused tone made him break down more.

"W-What do you mean you don't know who I am? I-I'm Asmo! I'm the... the prettiest d-demon in Devildom! Y-your lover!" He could hardly speak through his broken sobs, trying to crawl towards you, just to be able to touch you again.

Asmo pathetically watched you shake your head and stumble away from him, heading off to the kitchen like you intended.

Left a mess in the middle of the hall, Lucifer eventually heard his groaning and helped him back to his room.

Upon getting to his room he crawled to sit in front of his full body mirror, his peachy eyes examining every flaw he could find.

"How!? How could they forget me?! I-I thought they loved me? W-was I not enough? Was I ever enough?"

He continued to stare at himself in the mirror, mascara stains dripping down his face, lipstick smudged, hair a mess.

"I'll never be good enough. Why can't I be as pretty as I was when I was an angel? Why did I have to get cursed with this sin? Why? Why!?"

Asmo was broken. All he wanted was to be happy, together, with you. Now he was left with regret, a broken heart, and the precious memories that he could no longer think about without tearing up.

Beel

While he may have seemed completely fine on the outside, Beel was absolutely torn to pieces after the breakup.

Not everyone noticed, as he tried to play it off like he normally does when he is feeling upset.

Beel is one to keep his emotions to himself in fear that he will upset the ones he cares about most.

In an attempt to fill the painful void in his heart that was left from you leaving, he ate more. Everything in sight. It was a lot worse than usual.

Some nights after Belphie would fall into a deep sleep, he would just stay awake and cry, questioning himself and where he went wrong.

During a late night breakdown, with a growling stomach, he left the comfort of his room to quickly grab a snack from the kitchen.

While rummaging through the fridge, he wasn't able to hear you enter the room.

"Oh, I didn't expect anyone else to be in here." Your voice making him jump a bit, not expecting to hear you. His heart pained at the sound, but he quickly wiped his eyes before turning to you.

"Huh? Oh. Hello MC! I was just getting a snack, like I usually do. You know.." He tried to keep his composure while looking at you. He admired your face, missing being able to gently press his lips to yours, and hold you tightly in his arms.

"Oh? Uh, how did you know my name? I don't remember ever seeing you before.. are you new here?" Your words felt like needles throughout his body, but he smiles a soft smile.

"S-Sorry, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Beelzebub, the 6th born, Avatar of Gluttoney.. I uh, I hope to see you around more." And with that, he made his way back to his room.

Letting the pain of everything he has even been through wash over him like a tsunami, he let himself go. Belphie eventually woke up and found him still a mess and tried to comfort him.

He poured his heart out to his younger brother, who was now crying as he watched his soft-hearted brother cry to him.

Beel never truly recovered. He was just a shell of what he used to be, going many days without eating like he used to. He wanted to feel the pain of his hunger to distract himself from the memories he helplessly carried of your past relationship, and all of the other pain he has deep in his heart.

Belphie

Similar to his twin brother, Belphie was very good at hiding his emotions.

Your separation had him very uneasy. His mind wasn't able to fully grasp that you were no longer his.

He spent many of his days sleeping, much more than he normally would. He would miss meals, miss school, even miss student council meetings.

His sadness and pain of losing you only made him lose more motivation. He knew that there was nothing he could do.

After everything you'd been through, he knew deep down it was for the best.

Eventually he started having nightmares. At first they were nothing too unusual, simply reminders of your loss of relationship.

As time continued, they got more vivid, worrying the sleepy demon.

One night he had a dream you'd forgotten him. As if you'd never met him. He woke up in a cold sweat at the thought, but simply tried to brush it off.

The next morning he managed to get up for breakfast, sitting across from you. It was eerily silent as his brothers were worried about the tension between you both.

Watching you lean to your side towards Asmo, you'd whispered something that Belphie couldn't quite make out, but judging by the look on Asmodeus, it was not something he would've wanted to hear anyway.

Curiosity eventually getting the best of him, he pulled Asmo aside to ask what you'd whispered to him this morning.

With a dull face and hesitant expression, the Avatar of Lust told him that you'd asked who he was, as you didn't recognize his face.

With a heavy heart, Belphegor set off to try to find you. He had to know if his nightmare was in fact coming true.

"MC? D-Do you remember me?" The demon asked, holding himself together the best he could.

"I'm sorry, have we met before? I can't say I've ever seen you before?" Your words cut like knives.

So it was true? You didn't remember a thing.

While he was thankful he was able to start over, it pained him to know you'd never understand how he knew so much about you. Of course he couldn't say anything either, in fear of driving you away.

It haunted him for so many nights. Over and over he'd have the reoccurring dream that became reality. Eventually he gave in, staying up as many nights as he could before his body gave out from lack of sleep.

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years

Text

Prometiste.

summary: when a relationship starts breaking, previous promises are broken too.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: pure angst! Is a sad one :(

a/n: I got inspired by my favorite song to write this piece, this song is very dear to me and i loved how this turned out. Let me know what you think of it, please! (btw, the title translates to ‘you promised’)

you can find the rest of my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･

The distance can make people grow closer, or it can break them apart. When the second happens, the results are two people with a broken heart and a lot of problems unresolved.

In the beginning, things were great. Harry would pick Y/N up at the airport every time she would go visit him on tour. He’d have her attached to his hip all the time, grabbing a chair for her to sit and watch him rehearse, put her on his lap while his hairstylist was doing his hair, going straight to her arms after every show and going straight to their hotel room to make love to her just like he knows how to.

When her time to leave would arrive, he would beg her to stay just a little more, claiming she was his lucky charm and needed her with him at all times. He’d never say goodbye, simply because he didn’t like that word. He’d much prefer to leave a kiss at the top of her head and make her promise she’d come back soon.

And every time she kept her promise.

Six months passed since Harry began his tour, and in every visit she made she’d notice him more distant, and even if she didn’t want to admit it, she could feel how he was slowly slipping through her fingers.

He’d no longer make the trip to pick her up from the airport, he’d tell her to wait in his dressing room until the concert, leaving her alone for hours without any sort of explanation or sight of regret. She started to feel more like a baggage, an intruder.

Regardless of how she felt, she decided against talking to Harry about it. It was obvious he was stressed, so she sat and watched in silence how the love of her life slowly changed into a person she didn’t know anymore.

Suddenly, she found herself starting looking forward to saying goodbye instead. The question of why she was still wasting her money on plane tickets to see a person who didn’t even look happy to see her was a real enigma, but she still did it anyway. No matter how many text messages Harry would leave on read, or how many unanswered calls landed on his phone, she still loved him and had faith this would only be temporary.

The tour finally made its stop in London, and the reason why Y/N was looking forward to this particular stop, was because Harry had a week long break before his next show. Which meant he was going to be completely free from any obligations, and his mind would finally be stress free.

He hasn’t been sending her many messages lately, but he did tell her his plane got delayed and he’d arrive later than expected. She took the extra time to cook dinner at his house, as a welcome gift.

Harry’s flight was supposed to land at 6 pm, however, it was already nine and he hadn’t come to his house yet.

Y/N got worried and sent him a couple of messages asking him about his whereabouts but he was yet to answer. So she insisted. She was tired of being ignored.

However, after finally receiving an answer from Harry, she immediately wished she didn’t.

Can you stop being so annoying?

Y/N felt as if someone ripped her heart from her chest as tears immediately threatened to spill out of her eyes. Dozens of questions started to run through her mind, still having trouble at understanding the situation.

She contemplated her options. She could either leave, or she could stay and wait for him to come home and one and for all demand an explanation of his behavior. She chose the latter.

So she sat on the couch, looking directly at the flat screen hanged on the wall even though it wasn’t even on. She flinched when she heard a jingle of his keys, following from his footsteps.

None of them said anything as Harry approached her, sitting beside her on the couch in complete silence. He sighed.

“I don’t think this is working anymore, Y/N” He whispered, turning to look at her. He caught how one single tear fell off her left eye, not answering him. She swallowed the rest of them though. “There’s so much going on right now, and I had to make a massive readjust of priorities…”

“And I suppose I didn’t make the cut” She interrupted him. Harry took a deep breath. “Did you stop loving me?” Finally turning to look at him, Harry’s heart break into a million of pieces when he saw her, bloodshot eyes from containing her tears. Harry shook his head. “Then what happened?” she almost begged. “Because it looks like you did and you’re just lying to me to make me feel better”

“I haven’t stopped loving you, never will” he confessed. “I thought I could balance it all. Tour and… well, you. I haven’t been a good boyfriend and you deserve someone who puts you first because… because I can’t”

“I know I’m not perfect, I was certain that my place was next to you. And I tried to keep my promise, I really tried, Harry” She couldn’t contain herself anymore as she started sobbing.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest, allowing himself to also cry. He felt how Y/N’s tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care. She tried inhale Harry’s essence as she felt like it was going to be the last time she’d be able to do it.

“I know you did, I do” He started kissing the top of her head multiple times. “This is on me, baby. Is all on me, I’m sorry”

She pulled away from his chest, whipping her tears only to receive new ones. “You could’ve spared me so much time of uncertainty, you know? If you didn’t want this anymore, then why you didn’t say something sooner?”

“I… don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to accept it was time to let you go”

Y/N’s lip started trembling. Deep down she knew Harry just didn’t love her anymore, and although that thought hurt, she would’ve preferred hearing that rather than a really vague excuse. She needed to get out of the house, otherwise she’d collapse.

She stood up abruptly, starting to look for her purse. Harry panicked, standing up from the couch as well. “Please don’t go while you’re like this”

“I don’t want to stay, Harry” she choked a sob. “I really need to go, please” she begged. Harry looked unsure, but he still let go of her arm he didn’t even realize he was holding.

So he watched grab her purse and leave. In that moment, Harry knew he was making the biggest mistake of his life, one that he’d forever regret. But even if he already knew, he still did it anyway.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･

Y/N cried until there weren’t any more tears to spill. She woke up the next day with a wet pillow and a broken heart. At first, she thought it was all just a bad dream, but memories from the night before passed through her mind and a new wave of tears came.

She felt like her whole world was falling apart, suddenly feeling lost and… empty. Her chest felt empty. And it was because her heart didn’t belong to her anymore. Harry had it.

And despite he knew he held her heart in his hands, he still broke it.

Or perhaps he forgot he had it.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten something.

Y/N just wanted it all to end. The ache in her head and in her chest, it was becoming too much to handle and she didn’t know what to do anymore.

After spending her whole afternoon in bed staring at the ceiling, she came to the conclusion that in order to stop her soul from aching further, Y/N needed to erase the past three years of her life from her mind.

It was an impulsive decision, but she didn’t realize it until she was in front of Harry’s front door with a couple of duffel bags in the back of her car, waiting to be filled with all her belongings.

Harry wasn’t home, of course he wasn’t. He had a concert to do. He had a career and a life that was waiting for him, and Y/N wasn’t part of that anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the bags and entered the house with her spare key, feeling sad about thinking it would be the last time she’d use it. She placed the key in the table beside the door and headed upstairs straight to Harry’s room.

A wave of memories invaded her mind. Times where they were happy, times where being in love was the only thing that matter for them.

His room. A place Y/N loved but now was bittersweet to stand in. She placed her bags on his bed, allowing her palm to touch the white sheets and closing her eyes for a second.

His bed. Where thousands of promises were made through soft whispers and tender touches. She remembered how Harry would promise her it would always be them against the world, how he bowed he’d never leave her alone, loving her until the end of times, through thick and thin. No matter the situation, it’d always be just them. Just Y/N and Harry.

And she, being her, believed him blindly.

It seemed like Harry forgot all those things along with so many others. Along with the fact that today would’ve been their fourth year together, not that it mattered anymore.

Once her bags were full, she let herself have one last look at the room that used to be her favorite room in the entire house. She took out the promise ring Harry had given her a year prior, letting it rest on his nightstand.

Just like last night, Y/N had two options. She could either leave now, or she could stay and wait for him for one last goodbye.

And this time, she chose the first option, and didn’t look back.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

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scorpionwins · 3 years

Text

Oh wow oh wow- so like. A time skip AU. But established Jugpea. @viknikisbae came up with the brilliant concept of ' what if Jug left Riverdale, yes, but he still came back every now and again? Maybe once a year? And him and SP have this tentative, fragile thing between them called 'hard-core pining idiots loving one another so much but they don't say anything and pretend everything is okay. Until it isn't.'

So yeah. Jug can't take the thought of them only being friends with benefits and nothing else,- even if he doesn't deserve someone like Sweet Pea. Someone too right and too good to deal with his broken self.

Jug knows Sweet Pea pretends to be okay with it; pretends he prefers hours over years, kisses under twilight instead of daylight, hushed 'I love yous ' when he thinks Jug is sleeping to saying it with his chest. Jug loves him right back, desperately, achingly, back.

He wants this world, who treated him poorly and unjustly, to KNOW it wasn't pwerful enough to take that away.

Sweet Pea loves strongly, loves deeply, loves in ways not every man could. In ways Jughead doesn't deserve, but maybe someone better will.

So he calls the arrangement off, and leaves Riverdale for good.

He breaks Sweet Pea's heart gently.

Jug comes to town, and Sweet Pea waits by THEIR booth, as usual; he already ordered for Jug. He's been in this seat so many times before it feels more like home than his actual house.

He watches bluesky bleed orange, then midnight black, and counts the stars one by one until he realizes Jughead won't come. So he goes home- and Jug is leaning against his trailer. Dwelling on nothing in particular, fiddling with his fingers.

Concern blossoms like a thorned flower, squeezing at Sweet Pea's chest when he tries to look Jug in the eye and finds the sea green eyes he loves to admire terribly dull, even in the dark. Sweet Pea steps forward, crackling leaves trailing at his boots.

The nature echoes , because neither of them say a word. That's the problem, wasn't it? Both of them speak, but they never talk.

" I forgot to give these back," Jug whispers, carefully calm, words chillingly rehearsed, as if he practiced them in a mirror until he got the tone just right.

They betray no emotion other than nonchalance. A mellow death, if Sweet Pea ever heard one. "Here; They're yours. I don't want them anymore."

Like hell. Like fucking hell. " You were late at Pops today; Sunset looked nice," Sweet Pea shoves past him, feet stomping , heart racing and bleeding and cracking all the way.

His joints tremble with aching anger, panic. He's losing him. He's losing his baby and it will stick this time. "Anyway, wanna come in?"

Jug doesn't follow right away, but Sweet Pea swears he heard some harbored breathing, forced intake of breaths, a few mumbled curses salted with sorrow.

Sweet Pea hopes his heart break just as much as his own. And he hates that most of all. "Nate, please."

Sweet Pea stays deaf to it. " You know, you could've called. Had to phone Red to ask if you were even in town, and that wasn't a happy talk. I also had to eat that gross milkshake and fries thing by myself, which, you owe me for now,- damn it why won't it go the FUCK in?!"

The keys won't fit because his hands are shaking, too pained, and too jittery to match the lock. His throat feels raw, matching the pain in his chest, and his voice sounds broken even to his own ears. "Why won't it go on?"

"Nathaniel, look at me, - "

The pain overpowers Sweet Pea. He punches the door, blow after blow after blow until the shape of his fists leave deep dents in the surface and a few bones crack under the weight of his fury. Fury, or heartbreak? In love, both might as well be synonyms.

The assault is stopped by a small hand resting on the taller man's crimson fist, too gentle and too loving for what he's doing. Sweet Pea stops nonetheless, - Jughead Jones had him bewitched, ever since they were 16, trading giggly kisses behind Pops.

He could make Sweet Pea do just about anything. Either with a pleading tone or big Bambi eyes staring, asking for what his mouth won't, because he never had to. Sweet Pea always knew what Jug needed, what he wanted, the desires he didn't want to name. He just KNEW Jug.

But clearly not enough to see this coming. "We can't keep this up. Its not healthy."

Sweet Pea snorts, vindictive, venom pouring dripping on his words. His soul is burning and he wants Jughead to know he's holding the matches. "And you, Mr. New York junkie fuck, know everything about health, huh?"

Hurt washes over Jug's features, and Sweet Pea wants to take those cruel words back with a quickness, take his boy in his arms, grovel for forgiveness. But they're past that now.

."Newsflash, asshole! It's the only thing we have, and it didn't kill us yet!" He's desperate. And it tastes so bitter, so sour, a vicious thing clawing at every nerve of his body and invading every thought.

The smaller man's jaw clenches, his right cheek hollow. " Dying goes beyond not breathing, Sweet Pea. And I can't, - I can't let you do this to yourself anymore,"

and then, under the winking stars of Sunnyside Park, Jughead Jones places his dog tags in his bloody hands, plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and breaks his heart into a million pieces, all begging for a place to go wherever Jug is going.

"You were the best part of my life," liar, he's a fucking LIAR, a pretty one, sweet voiced and summer warmth with skin, but a liar all the same. If that was true, he would stay. If that was true, this wouldn't taste so much of heartbreak. "I'm sorry I couldn't be that for yours."

He's going to walk away, leave Sweet Pea behind, AGAIN, like he did when they were 16 and in love without even knowing how to love yet. As if Sweet Pea means nothing. As if his love means nothing.

"I LOVE YOU," he screams, because he wants this boy to know, to be kept awake every night like Sweet Pea was. Haunted by just how deep this glass shard love could cut. Jones can run from him, but he won't be able to outrun this. "ASSHOLE."

Jughead halts, fists balled, chasing a phantom weight no longer there. "I know."

43 notes · View notes

dokoni-mo · 4 years

Text

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 8)

(A/N: Taglist is still open. Asks are still open for anything. Good luck.)

WARNINGS: crying, cursing, otherwise none.

Key: (F/N) = first name, (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~7200

Chapter One: [x]

Chapter Two: [x]

Chapter Three: [x]

Chapter Four: [x]

Chapter Five: [x]

Chapter Five and a Half: [x]

Chapter Six: [x]

Chapter Seven: [x]

~~~

You felt like nothing but a ghost of yourself the rest of that day.

You didn’t know what to think or how to feel. All you felt as nothing. Absolute, suffocating, nothing.

After that old officer left, you weren’t able to finish your meal. Your appetite vanished the instant the officer broke the news to you. The awful, unimaginable news. You couldn’t do anything. All you could do was stare straight in front of you, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, and think.

You replayed the past weeks of your life over and over in your mind like a broken reel of film. You heard all the things he had ever said to you play back and echo in your head. Everything that had ever meant anything to you...

Is it not past active hours for your department, mechanic?

I will come here again periodically, and I expect a full report of progress for each of my visitations.

Your name, mechanic. I wish to know your name.

Tell me, Miss (F/N). Do you enjoy your job here?

(F/N)... there is no one I trust more to accompany me.

If you wish to simply call me ‘Vader’ when the two of us are alone…I will allow it.

Tell me, (F/N)... what was your home like?

Would you… may I have this dance?

Your brain couldn’t make any sense of it. What had you done wrong? Why in the galaxy would he do this? Your fingers twitched to find an answer to these questions as you continued to blankly stare forward into the void of wall before you.

Your trance-like state was quickly drawn to a halt by the sound of the door opening. Picking up your head to face the person who had entered, you were greeted with the familiar face of the nurse who was tending to your wounds. She gave you as friendly as a smile as she could muster in response to your seemingly lifeless face. Your eyes were dark, and your cheeks were stained with absolutely no color. Even though all of your vital signs said otherwise, it was as if someone had come in and ripped your heart, your very soul out of your body.

And, in almost every sense, someone had.

“Good evening Miss (L/N).” the nurse said softly, closing the door to your room behind her.

You did and said absolutely nothing in response. How could you? When you already felt like nothing.

Filling the awkward air with a cough, the nurse continued her speech.

“W-Well, it looks here that all of your readings are normal, and have been for some time! With that, I will allow you to be released. I’ll have someone bring in your normal clothes and you can return to your normal job in the morning.”

…

What did she say?

No…

You stiffened at the end of her last sentence. Your fingers gripping onto the bedsheets, your allowed your head to move back to where it faced the wall in front of you, your eyes following suit.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke, barely audible.

“Liar.”

The poor nurse seemed to be caught off guard by this. Quickly searching her mind for any way of which she could be found lying, she found nothing. This told her that you must have been mistaken. Or, perhaps, she had misheard you. You were speaking rather quietly.

Curiosity taking over her, the nurse spoke again.

“P… Pardon?”

You clenched your fingers tighter onto the sheets at this, your knuckles turning white. Your body began to shake, primarily your shoulders and arms, as a million thoughts came into your head at once. They were so loud. So very loud. You wanted them to go away. You wanted everything and everyone to just go away. All you wanted was him. You wanted him to run in and scoop you into his big, strong arms and tell you that everything was okay. You wanted him to burst into the room right then and tell you that everything was just one big misunderstanding. You wanted him to lift you up right there and carry you someplace far, far away where you could spend the rest of your days together. You wanted him to tell you that he cared.

But, you now knew that would never happen.

All of your suspicions were true.

All you were to him…

Was a mechanic.

You didn’t even realize how much you were crying. It was like all the oceans of your home planet redirected their water flows into the back of your eyes. Your whole body felt hot and cold at the same time as your heart was breaking in two, shattering into a million pieces. You didn’t even notice the flood of hot, steamy tears that was pouring down your reddened cheeks. You didn’t care about how your nose was starting to run.

You couldn’t even form a response to the nurse, the lump in your throat far too big to allow any of your voice to through. Your face contorted into one of agony as you let a sob out of your throat, the sound oh so pitiful and shattering. Slowly, you covered your face with your hands as you leaned your head down to rest on your knees. Finally concealed from the outside world, you allowed a flurry of sobs to rack through your body, your shoulders and back shaking as the tears flowed and your breath became more and more ragged. Your lungs were on fire with the amount of force your cries ripped out of you. Your sides ached and groaned with each gasp of air you took in between sobs and whimpers.

You felt like you were shattering at the seams.

Everything you had grown to love.

Everything you had grown to care for.

Everything you had grown to hope for.

Was not violently and mercilessly ripped away from you.

And all you could do about it then was cry.

No wonder Lord Vader wanted to get rid of you.

You were worthless.

How could you have ever convinced yourself that he could maybe, just maybe, care for someone like you?

He wouldn’t. Not ever. And you saw that now.

But still, all you could do was sob into the vast void of black that filled your vision.

You didn’t care that the poor nurse was there to see all of your emotion. In fact, you largely forgot she was there to begin with. Despite only known you the tiniest amount, she could tell that this was very out of character for you. She could tell that whatever has happened to you hurt you in the deepest possible way.

And she was right.

Flashing you a look of sympathetic sadness, she left the room quietly and let you have your moment on your own terms, listening to your sobs all the while with a heavy heart.

She could even still hear them once she entered the hallway.

She told the rest of her co-workers not to disturb you for the rest of the evening, and prayed that whatever was troubling you would pass.

~~~

He had called off all the meetings he had scheduled for the night. He wished to be alone in his meditation chamber by himself.

Lord Vader had not felt this way in a long time. He felt… awful.

Granted, he did know that he as a sith lord was quite awful. He struck fear into the heart of many. He took countless people’s lives. He ordered his troops to do such as well. He was a galactic symbol of death and destruction. But this, he learned to deal with over the years. He learned to live with this truth.

No. Not a day went by where he felt awful for this.

Instead, he felt awful for what he had done to you.

Sitting down inside of his meditation chamber, he watched from behind his mask the walls close around him, entrapping him within the cold, lifeless, white walls.

Cold.

That was a feeling he was used to.

But not one he wanted to return.

Now unquestionably alone, Lord Vader allowed himself to remove his helmet and mask, allowing his burnt, scared face to show itself once more.

Holding the mask in his strong grasp, Lord Vader turned it so that the face was looking to his own.

Looking into the black, lifeless eyes of the thing, Lord Vader saw his reflection staring back at him. The two figures staring back at one another, Lord Vader’s mind became both blank and full at the same time.

From seemingly no where and everywhere at once, Lord Vader heard a voice ricochet off of the walls of his mind.

Your voice.

L-Lord Vader!

It’s… It’s (F/N), my Lord. (F/N) (L/N).

It’s… acceptable.

I can continue on with the day.

I believe that you asked the wrong person.

It’s… nice. The view, I mean.

You know… I only just got here, and I’m already ready to call it a night.

What was...What was your home like, my lord?

I’m sure that wherever they are now… They all still love you. Unconditionally.

Lord Vader had to close his eyes at the last echo that came into his mind. Sitting there a moment, motionless, the sith allowed that echo to cross over his mind over and over again, the grip upon his mask tightening and tightening.

How could you have said that to him?

How could you have allowed such sympathy for someone like him?

A pang of awful shooting through Lord Vader, he allowed his mask to drop to the floor as he rested his elbows upon his armor-clad knees, his scarred, damaged head cradled in his large, mechanical hands.

Deep down within his core, he felt his stomach tie itself into a knot, his damaged, scarred heart in pain.

He hadn’t felt like this in so, very long.

But he deserved it.

How dare he think that someone like him should ever be cared for by someone like you? How dare he think that he could ever be worthy of reciprocating those affections? How dare he taint such a beautiful, radiant creature such as yourself with the likes of him? How dare he be so selfish as to indulge in the feelings you allowed him to have? How dare he be so ignorant as to bring you into harms way?

How dare he ever try to love again?

Didn’t he see how it ended last time?

He was evil.

He was cruel.

He was ugly.

He was scarred.

He was damaged.

He was…

Everything that you weren’t.

Every time he reached out with the force, he could feel how melancholy you were. You were hurting and confused. He didn’t blame you at tall. It pained him to his very being that he couldn’t tell you his reasoning. He couldn’t bring himself to face you that night.

What a fucking coward.

No wonder everyone he ever cared for left him.

He wanted nothing more than to go to you. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his grasp, rocking you gently and smoothing your hair until your cries subsided. He wanted nothing more than to call off your restationing and tell you it was just some misunderstanding. He wanted nothing more than to pick you up and carry you someplace far, far away, where the two of you could live together and grow old, spending the rest of your days…

Far away, together.

But, as much as it hurt him, made him bleed and scream within his soul…

He couldn’t.

If he were to keep you by his side, he knew.

All he would ever bring you was pain…

Suffering…

Depression…

Heartbreak…

Hurt.

And, maker above, did he want the exact opposite for you.

All he wanted you to be was happy.

Joyous.

Bubbly.

Sound.

Secure.

Safe.

And warm. Just as you provided to him.

But…

You would never get any of that…

If you were to continue being with a monster such as himself.

Leaning back in his chair, Lord Vader had to close his eyes once more as he felt a lump form in the back of his throat.

He hoped…

That you would at least remember him…

When you were gone.

~~~

24 hours from now, you were to leave the Super Star Destroyer.

Forever.

Packing was, unlike before, one of the hardest things you ever had to do.

They had provided you with the same kind of backpack as they had given you before, only it seemed far more depressing than the previous one. The first backpack you were given promised to take you someplace far away, to a planet you had never been to before. With him. But this one only promised you to take you someplace far away from him. Far away to a familiar place that you didn’t want to return to. Never in a million years.

The hardest thing for you to pack away into the small backpack was your formal uniform. Kneeling on the cold, hard floor of your quarters, you held the jacket of the uniform within your grasp for a long while, staring at the fabric with a blank, expressionless face. Rubbing your thumbs against the fabric, your mind flooded with memories of the most recent night you wore that piece of clothing.

The night he asked you to dance.

The night you were held in his arms.

The night where you felt the safest you had ever been.

The night you knew you…

A lump formed in your throat again.

You tried to swallow it down, but to no avail.

Feeling tears welling up in your eyes again, you gripped onto the jacket tighter and tighter as your face contorted into one of pure hurt and agony with absolutely no filter . Preventing yourself from hearing you sob again, you pressed the jacket to your face, your body bending over as silent, painful cries came out from behind your throat, your shoulders tense and your lungs thick with tension.

Kneeling there, next to your bed, docked in the emptiness of space, your face pressed against that damned jacket, you were hit with a sudden realization. It came to you gradually, and you could see it coming from a mile away. Perhaps this was because you knew all along.

You knew why it pained you so bad to leave the Super Star Destroyer.

You knew why it hurt you to your very soul that he was done with you.

You knew why you didn’t want to leave.

You knew why you wanted to finish his TIE.

You knew why you felt so safe in his arms.

You knew why you cherished that dance so much.

…

You vowed to never admit it.

To anyone.

Ever.

~~~

24 hours from now, you would be gone.

Forever.

It was hard for him to concentrate on anything that afternoon.

Instead of dawdling around and trying to get things done, Lord Vader had decided that he would spend the day doing as he pleased. He was one of the only people in the entire Empire that had this luxury. However, no matter what he tried to do, his mind would always slip back to you. He wondered greatly what you were doing every moment that day.

He couldn’t bear to even try to hone in on your life force.

Wandering aimlessly around the Super Star Destroyer, Lord Vader would pause periodically to watch his troops as they worked. He would sense the nervousness coming off of them, but he found it difficult to care. Perhaps he was feeling merciful that day.

Watching the troops work struck something deep, deep down inside of Lord Vader. The movements and the conversations of every troop seemed just so… dull. And grey, lifeless even. They would mill around like droids, doing their jobs to a t with absolutely no flare, no passion.

…

That’s what made you different.

A startling revelation came over Lord Vader. Standing on the edge of the main bridge of his Star Destroyer, looking out to the stars, he felt his shoulders stiffen.

He knew why he thought of you at night.

He knew why he had come to see you every time he could

He knew why he felt the way he did when he made you laugh.

He knew why he asked you to dance.

He knew why he came to visit you in the medical bay.

But, for all the same reason…

He knew why he had to send you away.

…

But if he knew why…

Why did it hurt him so damn much?

~~~

Today was the day.

Today was the most awful, dreadful, hurtful day of your life.

You weren’t ready in the slightest.

Of course, you didn’t get to sleep in that morning. You had to wake up bright and early, and be out the door as quickly as possible with your stormtrooper escort. Waking up that morning, you couldn’t help but lie in your cot for a good, long while, staring up at the ceiling above you. Your mind was completely blank. You were speechless.

Even though you knew fully well that time would not stop just to make you happy, you were shocked that this day had actually come.

Eventually, you were able to roll yourself up into a sitting position on your cot, washing your face with invisible water. Sitting there a moment longer, you let your legs fall off the edge of the bed, your feet making contact with the cold, hard floor below you. Your lips pursed as you felt the cold of the ground seep through your nerves, making it way up to your heart.

This was the last time you would ever feel that cold again.

Taking a few steps over to the small table in your quarters, you stopped in front of it to shed off your sleep wear, your body shivering as your skin met the cold air of the room. Tossing your sleepwear on the cot, you gingery slid on your uniform, your face expressionless as you felt the material slide over your skin.

It was nothing compared to leather wrapped around robotic hands.

Sighing quietly to yourself, you pushed that thought to the back of your head. It was best if you forgot that feeling sooner rather than later.

Taking a few steps back over to your cot, you picked up your backpack off the floor, plopping it down upon the cot and opening it. Grabbing your sleepwear with a bit too much force, you stuffed the clothing into the bag, not caring at all if they would wrinkle.

With all of your belongings now packed, you closed the backpack and slung it over your shoulders, letting out another soft sigh. Picking your head up, you gazed around the small room you had called home, giving it one final look.

You felt so small standing there alone.

You felt like nothing compared to how he had filled the room.

…

You wished he was there in the room as you felt tears in your eyes.

You wished that he was there to hold you from behind as you hugged yourself tightly.

You weren’t even gone yet…

But you already missed him.

Before you could start crying again, you heard a strong, hard knock on your door. Whipping your head up, you quickly wiped the water from your eyes as you walked to the door, pressing the button on the side of the doorframe to open it.

Although you were greeted with the sight of a captain stormtrooper, you were certain that underneath the armor, it was the ferryman to hell.

“Morning, miss.” the trooper said, his voice distorted by the speaker in his helmet.

All you did in response was mouth the word morning to the trooper, forgetting you had to put air behind your words in order to actually say them.

“Are you ready?” the trooper asked.

You felt like bursting into tears. You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs that you were in no way, shape, or form ready to go. You wanted to curl into a ball and sob for the rest of time. You wanted to slam the door shut on the poor trooper and hide in your room until they came to kill you.

You knew it would be less painful than leaving this place.

However, you didn’t do any of the above. Instead, you swallowed the forming lump in your throat, looking down as you gave the trooper a quick nod.

After a quick follow me from the trooper, you began to trail behind him, giving your quarters one last look over your shoulder as you did so. Your view being cut off by the doors closing, you turned your head back to face forward as you repositioned the backpack on your shoulder. This earned a quick glance from the trooper, but he said nothing. You figured he was not one for conversation, and you didn’t blame him in the slightest. You knew you had to look like a complete wreck, and you didn’t blame the trooper for not wanting to pry into your business.

Deep down, you thanked him for it. You knew if he were to ask, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself from completely breaking down.

Following the trooper along the many long, winding hallways, you noticed how no one stopped to look at you. You noticed how no one asked to see if you were okay or not. Not that you wanted them to, but you were hit with a sudden reality.

Life would be like this for the rest of your days.

Life would never be as colorful as it had been.

Life would never be as… good.

You shook your head to rattle out those thoughts.

You didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.

Eventually, the trooper led you into a partially empty hangar, one of the lesser used ones on the Super Star Destroyer. Stepping into the hangar, you were greeted with the sight of a few troopers, a couple of pilots, and one fired-up shuttle carrier.

You were so close to collapsing onto the floor and shattering into a billion pieces. The only thing that prevented you from doing so was one of the pilots coming up to you.

“Are you Miss (L/N)?” the pilot asked you.

You nodded your head in approval.

“Great. We’ll be leaving in about five minutes.” the pilot said simply and flatly before walking away.

Five minutes.

That was the only time left you had here.

That was as much time as you had to say goodbye to everything that you had hoped for.

That was as much time as you had to forget everything that had happened.

That was as much time as you had to act like none of the past weeks never happened.

…

How could you?

Those days had meant so much to you…

He meant so much to you…

And all you had now was five minutes to throw it all away.

You were so confused.

You were scared and cold.

You wanted to throw your backpack on the ground and run back to his hangar.

You wanted the doors to open for you to be greeted with the sight of him, his arms open to you.

You wanted to fling yourself into his grasp, and have you hold onto him an never let go again.

You wanted him to cradle you in his big, strong arms for the rest of time, until you were nothing but ash.

…

How could you do all that in five minutes?

You couldn’t.

So you decided not to.

“Miss (L/N),” you heard the pilot say, “We’re leaving now.”

Breaking out of your trace, you shifted your gaze up to look at the shuttle. Sure enough, it's doors were open, touching the floor and creating a ramp so that you could walk in.

There it was.

The final curtain.

Tears welling up in your eyes again, you began to walk forward.

A thought passed through your mind as you drew nearer to the ramp.

I’m sorry…

A few more steps. You were closer now.

I wasn’t good enough…

A few more steps. You were so close.

Lord Vader.

You were at the edge.

You picked up your boot to step onto the ramp, but you were cut off.

You were cut off by two very familiar sounds.

Heavy, quick boots hitting the floor…

And mechanical, rhythmic breath.

~~~

Today was the day.

The day you would be gone.

Lord Vader didn’t say or do anything that day, and everyone had noticed. No one dared to ask the reason why.

As soon as Lord Vader had exited his chambers that morning, he quickly made his way to the main bridge. He only stopped his pace once he met the edge of the bridge, just in front of the large windows surrounding the perimeter. Assuming no special stance, Lord Vader simply gazed out to the stars, giving no order to this troops to do anything. No one even dared to ask him what they should do.

He would never admit it, but Lord Vader was grateful for that.

Lord Vader was greatly troubled. All of the emotions he was facing since the day he reassigned you had not dissipated in the slightest. They were all still a part of him, plaguing his very being. Yet, he did nothing about them.

He knew that he must suffer with them every day, in order to punish himself for what he did to you.

A few hours from now, he would know that you would be safe for the rest of your life. He knew that you would be looked after, and you would be some place where he would never affect you again.

…

But still…

He was in pain.

Deep, seething, agonizing, pain, greater than all he had ever felt before.

He thought he was selfish for it.

How dare he try and gain pity after doing what he did to you.

How detestable.

But still, a tremor deep down in his life force whispered to him.

It told him the most wonderful, awful things.

It told him he was wrong.

He tried to ignore it at first, but as the hours without you passed, and as the hour to which you would leave drew nearer and nearer, it's voice only grew louder and louder.

Lord Vader ignored it the best he could.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

It was ten minutes until you would leave. The voice was now screaming at him. Lord Vader clenched his fist as he tried again and again to ignore it. Every time he tried, however, it seemed to only scream louder, to the point where it was almost ear-splittingly loud.

His willpower crumbled, and Lord Vader gave in.

Although he wasn’t consciously aware of what the voice wanted him to do, his body seemed to act on it's own without him having to pilot. Unclenching his fist, Lord Vader reached his mind out to the force surrounding him. Concentrating, he bended it to his will.

To focus on you.

Focusing harder, he was able to sense your feelings.

…

You were…

So terribly, awfully, sad.

…

No.

This isn’t what he wanted at all.

He didn’t want you to feel that way.

He didn’t want you to ever feel such pain.

But, you did.

He cursed himself.

He wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to understand why. He wanted you to be happy.

But he didn’t know how to do it.

He was at a total loss.

Pointing his mask down to the ground, Lord Vader’s mind went blank as he came to a loss for words. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to begin. He didn’t know how to make sense of it all.

After a long moment of silence, he was relieved to hear the little voice from before speak to him again.

It sounded so familiar, but he didn’t know from where he heard it before.

He knew it had to be a deep rooted memory within him.

Yet, he struggled to put a face to it.

But, whoever it was…

She knew exactly what was best.

And he heard her loud and clear.

Go to her, Ani.

Turning swiftly on his heel, Lord Vader made his way down the bridge for the first time in hours, his cape fluttering by the speed. Some officers glanced up at him and his sudden movements, but quickly returned to their work. At the end of the bridge, Lord Vader stopped before an old officer, a datapad in his hand.

The same one who broke you the news.

“Commander Vox.” the sith lord spoke flatly but hurriedly, “I wish to know the status of Miss (L/N)’s shuttle.”

The old man giving Lord Vader a quick look, he poked on his datapad a few times before answering.

“It says here that her shuttle is about eight minutes away from takeoff, my Lord.” the commander said.

“What hangar?” The sith asked quickly.

“Hangar 281, my Lord. My Lord, I-”

Without even letting the old man finish, Lord Vader had pushed past him, his pace feverishly fast as he walked. That hangar was a bit far away, and Lord Vader knew he had to hurry.

He must see you.

Many people tried to stop Lord Vader as he wound down all the hallways and corridors, but Lord Vader would simply ignore them and keep walking, his mask pointed straight ahead.

He must see you.

All other tasks could wait.

He had thought he was too late once he finally made it to the hangar. However, listening in a moment longer, he heard the dull whirr of the engines of the shuttle from within.

He wasn’t too late.

Lord Vader didn’t hesitate one moment. He walked in through the doors and into the hangar.

The sound of his boots colliding with the floor and the rhythm of his respirator filled the room upon his entrance.

~~~

“Get out.” you heard his voice rumble from across the room.

You couldn’t force yourself to turn around. It had to be a dream. A hallucination. There was no possible way that he was there. You knew if you turned around, all you would see was nothing.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to bear that pain.

So, you didn’t turn around.

“Wh-But, my Lord! We-” you heard a pilot try to say.

“OUT.” You heard his voice bellow, sending a shiver down your spine. Listening a moment longer, you heard the sound of his saber ignite. As you heard the purr of the crimson blade swinging in the air, you put your hands over your ears, squeezing your eyes shut. Greeted with the muffled sounds of boots running out of the hangar, you figured that you must be going insane.

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t real.

You weren’t hearing the sound of his saber humming to a halt.

You didn’t hear the sound of it unigiting.

You didn’t…

You let your hands drop from over your ears.

Your shoulders now slouched and your head slightly hung, your backpack was able to slide off of your shoulders with ease. You allowed it to do so, and listened to the thud it made when it made contact with the ground.

What you did hear, was the sound of heavy footsteps drawing closer to you, and the sound of rhythmic, loud breath drawing nearer to you.

The lump in your throat grew as the sounds grew closer, and a weight formed itself in the bottom of your diaphragm. You could feel his energy behind you. Your fingers twitched in anticipation. Anticipation for you to jump into his arms...

This never came.

Instead, you closed your eyes, and took in a shallow, long breath.

You were the one to break the silence, still refusing to turn around and look at him.

“I have to go soon.” your voice wavered out. The lump in your throat made it hard for you to speak normally.

Lord Vader felt what was left of his heart crack at your words.

“I… know.” was all he was able to rumble out. He prayed that the voice from before would tell him what to say. It refused.

This was his mess to fix.

Your lips tightened into a thin line as the tears threatened to spill over again. Your fingers twitched themselves into a brief fist before uncurling. Taking in another deep breath, you hoped your voice didn’t sound as broken as you felt.

You still refused to turn around as you spoke.

“Then… w-why are you here..? You have… more important things to do.”

Silence. Only filled with his respirator. For a good long while.

He eventually mustered up the courage to say anything.

“I… Nothing is currently more important to me… than saying goodbye to you, (F/N).”

You could have sworn you felt your heart finally begin to shatter at that. His words were like a million knives right through your chest, and made your blood run cold. Blinking your eyes rapidly, you couldn’t stop the tear in your eye from slipping down your cheek. Couldn’t he tell that this was destroying you? How could he be so cruel…

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“W-Why…” you began, taking a pause for your shoulders to tense and your fists to clench, “...do you have to make this… so much harder than it already is.”

Perhaps Lord Vader’s heart really was breaking again. The flash of pain that engulfed him made him believe that it was true.

Lord Vader took a step closer to your back, reaching out his hand so that he could touch your shoulder.

“(F/N), I-”

You whipped yourself around to face him at this, leaning your shoulder backwards so that his hand would miss. Tears were streaming down your face like waves, and your cheeks were red from their heat. Your bow was bent into a scowl, and your lips were curved into a frown. Lord Vader was beside himself.

This isn’t what he wanted at all.

“What?” you asked, a slight hiss in your voice, “What do you possibly have to say to me? You’re getting rid of me, Vader. What in the universe could make this any better?”

Lord Vader lifted his hand to try and touch you again, but quickly let it fall, convincing himself that he will never be able to do it again.

“(F/N), I…” he began, his mask dropping it's gaze from your face to the ground, “I want you to know that... I am doing this for you. To protect you.”

You stood there speechless for what seemed like an eternity. Your lips parting, you felt your flow of tears fade into a trickle.

You couldn’t believe at all what he had said to you.

“Pro… Protect me?” you asked, you voice barely above a whisper.

“...Yes.” he responded.

You stood without moving a single muscle for a good while. Repeating his words in your head, your face contorted once more as you tears started to flow rapidly again, making you bury your face in your hands.

Lord Vader didn’t expect that at all. Catching him in one of the rare moments he was off guard, the sith pointed his mask back to your face, now obscured by your hands.

This still wasn’t what he wanted.

“(F/N),” he spoke, quieter than you had ever heard before, “Please… don’t-”

“Don’t what?” you choked out, taking your hands off your face to wipe your eyes, “Do you really not see? I am safe here, Vader. I can never be as safe as I am here… w-with you. Literally no one can hurt me, so why… I don’t… I can’t…”

Your chain of broken thoughts was broken by his voice.

“No, (F/N). You are not safe here. You are in danger as long…” he paused, the pain in his diaphragm almost too much to bear, “As long as you are near me.”

You shot your glossy eyes up at him, your brow bending upwards as you sniffled.

“Wh-What are you talking about?”

“(F/N),” he continued, refusing to meet your gaze, “You know what happened on that planet. I never expected you to leave that filthy place in such a way. If I had known… I would have never taken you there. It was not my intention to have you return… injured.”

His shoulders tensed as he continued on, his tone slightly more fiery than before, “I realized upon our return how much danger I put you in. Being near me… (F/N), you could have died. I have the blood of many men on my hands (F/N), but if I were to also have yours, I… I would not be able to bear it.”

Your body seemed to go into auto-pilot at that. An indescribable emotion taking over you, you reached up your hand to Lord Vader, cupping your soft, small palm against the sharp edges of his mask. Sensing your touch, the dark lord picked up his gaze again, allowing it to fall upon your puffy, reddened eyes.

Did he die?

Did he die and somehow go to heaven?

He could have sworn he saw an angel before him.

“Vader…” you spoke softly, your tears drying for the time being, “Do you not realize..? If it weren’t for you… I would already be dead.”

The sith lord stared at you speechless as you formulated what to continue on with. He feared he would ruin this moment by saying a single word.

“When… When I first got my job here,” you eventually said, your hand still firmly on his mask, “I wasn’t sure I wanted to go on. Life was so… dull, compared to my life back home. I hated it. I hated every day I woke up to. I didn’t think there would ever be a light at the end of the tunnel… That was, until, I got a job. I got your job. I was so scared at first. Terrified, really. I was scared you would just make my life darker… But I was wrong. Vader, the only thing that you have ever brought me in this galaxy is joy. The happiest moments of my life have been… getting to know you. And… that’s all I ever want to do, for the rest of time. Believe me when I say that I… I care so deeply for you...”

You paused a moment as you breathed out a smile, another tear slipping down your cheek.

“Vader, I… I… I never, not ever, want to leave your side again.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. He only stared down at you as you looked up at him, a small smile on your features.

Maker above, you were the most gorgeous thing that Lord Vader had ever seen.

For a long time, the dark lord refused to believe it. He refused to believe that he could impact such a beautiful person like you in such a way. He was nothing compared to you. You and him were nothing alike.

But yet, in a fleeting moment of you…

He believed you.

Your eyes looked right into his soul, right into him. They looked right beyond the shell of his mask, right at him. If you had been looking elsewhere, Lord Vader would have not believed you. He would have thought you to be a liar. But in that moment, he could feel your gaze land right on his eyes…

Freshly devoid of any trace of yellow.

His softened, blue eyes.

In that moment he knew…

You did not care for his outer shell.

You did not yearn for that suit to hold you at night.

You did not want that suit to call you beautiful.

You cared for him.

His body moving without him commanding, he slowly but surely wrapped his strong arms around your tiny frame, pulling you as close as possible to him. As you stood upon your tip-toes and wrapped your arms around his armored neck, he snaked one arm across the length of your back and the other around your waist, his large hands bunching your clothes in his iron grip.

For the first time in what felt like years, you felt completely safe. You felt so, so happy. Letting the tears of joy slip down your face, your cries came out muffled as you pressed your head into the top of his shoulder, feeling him mimic the action on your own.

Waves of relief crashing over you, your legs suddenly felt extremely weak. The joints of your knees giving out, you slowly started to sink to the floor. Were it not for him following you down to the ground, you would have thought you were going to fall straight through it.

The rest of the galaxy seemed to slip away as the pair of you were knelt on the expanse of floor below you, clinging onto one another as if the other would drift away into nothing if one of you were to let go. In that moment, both of your minds were blank. You were speechless in every sense imaginable.

If the entire galaxy were to implode right then, neither of you would notice.

If the war were to end right there, neither of you would notice.

If the rebellion had defeated the empire right then, neither of you would notice.

The only thing that mattered in that moment…

Was you and him.

Eventually, Lord Vader lifted his head from your shoulder, causing you to do the same. Lifting his hands from off of your body, he rested them upon your cheeks, cradling your beautiful face in his hands like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. Using his gloved thumbs to wipe away your tears, he leaned forward and pressed the forehead of his mask to your own, making you breathe out another smile.

His version of a kiss, you took it.

You happily reciprocated, shifting up your hands to cradle his mask in your palms and closing your eyes.

He was the one to break the silence that had loomed in the air for a long, long while.

“(F/N).” Vader said.

“Yeah?” you responded.

It took him a moment to speak again.

“I…” he began, holding onto you a bit tighter.

What he said to you next made your heart skip several beats.

It made your whole body swell with joy.

It made every one of your fears dissolve into nothing.

It made the galaxy seem like such a better place.

You would never forget what he said.

“I… I love you.”

You breathed out another smile as you felt your heart beam with joy your eyes brighter than ever before. Closing your eyes, you leaned forward, pressing a soft, quick kiss to the triangle mouth of his mask.

“I love you too, Vader.”

His heart almost burst in ecstasy as he heard your words.

Surprising himself…

He believed you.

And vowed to himself that he would spend the rest of his life showing you just how much he adored you.

Holing you closer to his chest, he made another vow to you without speaking.

He vowed that one day...

perhaps very soon, perhaps very far...

He would take to you a place...

Where both you and him could live the rest of your days...

Far away...

together.

~~~

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia , @dartheldur , @finest-trashbag , @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii , @elongatedmusk-rat , @shads121 , @muffinbeliever , @sakuramadae , @padme-parker , @khapikat222 , @the-official-memester , @rens-angel , @obiwankenobiness , @yvette1703 , @breakfastpizzagalaxy , @missmannequin , @clearnostolgia , @scarletsinsandsnowwithetragedies

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfic

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unsteadygalaxy · 3 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 11

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

previous | next

11. one day life will be kind

Mother is soft.

They don’t know a lot of things, but they know that much. Mother is soft as she cradles them in her arms. She’s singing something sweet and soothing, and it distracts them from their tears. Why are they crying again? They don’t remember.

They look up at her with wide, shining eyes, and watch her mouth as it moves. Her braids fall over her shoulders, and their fingers grasp at them, pulling lightly. She laughs and tugs their wandering hands away, kissing their little palm.

“I love you, little one. Keep your curious heart with you always. It will serve you well.”

They’re too little to understand what she’s saying, of course, but the tenderness of her tone makes them smile and laugh. Mother is so kind and warm. And soft.

------

Father is soft. Mostly.

He tosses them gleefully in the air, and they just giggle. He catches them, of course, like he always does. Their mother looks on, caught between amusement and worry, and she cautions Johann not to drop them.

“I won’t!” he replies, smiling at her. “Brigida, my love. You worry too much.” He looks at them. “Your mother means well, little one. She just wants to protect you.”

They know their parents love them. They know they’ll always be there to protect them.

Until, of course, they aren’t.

------

Artur is not soft.

His hands are rough and scarred and cracked from how dry the air is, and they pass uncomfortably against their knee as he bandages their bleeding wound. They wish Mother was here. Her hands were always soft, made so by the lotion she spread between her palms each morning. But Mother is gone now. She’s resting under the ground, like Amma and Afi. And Father.

“Okay,” Artur says gruffly. “No more bleeding. Better now?”

They nod, their tears smearing across their arm as they wipe their eyes.

“Good. Be strong, young one. Save your tears.”

He stands up and pats their head, leaving them alone on the porch. The pain in their knee stings, but it soon subsides to a dull ache. They run across the meadow to lay in the grass, running their fingers through the long green blades. The grass is cool and soothing. And soft.

------

Sigrid is only soft when she’s not teaching them how to throw an axe.

“Again!” she commands, but there’s a glint of fierce pride in her eyes. They run to the target and pick up the axe from where it had fallen and scurry back to the mark.

“Feel the weight of it in your hand, young one. Balance it, and breathe deep…”

They follow her instructions carefully, aiming for the center of the target. They suck air into their lungs, raise the axe, and throw as hard as they can, a small grunt leaving their chest.

The axe embeds itself into the target, just barely off center.

Sigrid smiles. The lines around her eyes soften.

------

Some of the villagers are soft, afterwards. And some are not.

They know it’s not their fault. Their brain knows it, but their heart can’t keep up. After all, they had failed to obey Artur in the first place, and he was dead because of that.

He was dead because of them. And the villagers knew it.

“Take responsibility for your actions,” one of them says, seething at them. “You will forever be in the Gods’ debt.”

Bloodhound had watched Artur’s funeral ship disappear over the lake. They had watched as something in Sigrid’s heart died when she looked out over the horizon.

And years later, they watched as their aunt, too, dissolved into the water.

There weren’t many of them left after that.

------

Boone is soft.

He often tells Bloodhound of his dreams to leave the village, to leave Talos, to become a doctor or a nurse somewhere he could properly flourish. These confessions are whispered between feverish kisses and gentle caresses in the dark- always in the dark; it’s easier that way- and Bloodhound wants to go with him.

“There are so many opportunities out there, Hound!” he gushes to them, lying bare next to them under the thick furs, his blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. “We could save people. We could help them.” He is quiet for a moment. “We could learn things that would have saved Artur.”

Bloodhound is silent every time he says that. He mentions it many times. To Boone, the IMC is that opportunity for something more. Bloodhound cannot forgive, nor can they forget that the IMC’s arrogance buried their parents under the ice.

But Boone can.

Boone turns nineteen and leaves the village, his beautiful eyes full of pain and anger.

Days later, Bloodhound also turns nineteen. They walk through the forest one last time, giving the old facility a wide berth, and no one from the village sees them for years.

------

Bloodhound very quickly finds that the universe is like a jötunn.

They’re nineteen and a half years old and sleeping on the streets.

The city is too loud. It hurts their ears and rumbles constantly and plucks at their mask with its curious eyes, demanding everything. They are not careful enough. It takes from them without mercy, shreds every bit of dignity from them without restraint, rips open their chest without any care in the world who they are or who they have been.

In a way, they’re grateful for the anonymity. They’re grateful for the trial. Every night, they offer up their pleas to the Gods to guide them and help them choose the right path. But the Allfather is no longer listening. He abandoned them the moment they left Talos.

They think they deserve it. Just a little. (Or a lot.)

Sometimes, people offer them a place to stay. They decline. They are used to huddling under doorsteps, crouching beneath benches, sleeping underneath the canopy of trees in the park.

They miss the forest. They miss the village.

They miss Mother.

------

They are twenty and they think everything might be okay.

Ophelia smiles at them wearily, sliding them a large stack of plates to be cleaned. “Careful with these!” she always cautions. “These are the only plates this whole place has got.” Wisps of her red hair poke out from under her hairnet, and she reminds Bloodhound of Sigrid. Their heart aches in their chest.

Their hands and forearms throb from washing pots and pans all day, but they scrub each dish carefully, stacking them next to the sink. When they are done, they sigh, remove the rubber gloves, and lean against the counter. They and Ophelia talk about everything and nothing, exchanging stories and jokes as they clean up for the night.

But Bloodhound slips on a puddle of water and crashes into the counter, sending the stack of freshly cleaned plates tumbling into the ground. The glass shatters into millions of tiny pieces, littering the floor with a minefield of shards, and George fires them on the spot.

George is not soft. Not in the slightest. But Bloodhound can’t even blame him.

------

They are twenty and a half and their whole body aches.

“No,” they choke, clutching their chest, pressing the respirator into their face. They’re barely keeping themself off the ground, having been brought to their knees by the burning in their lungs. “No more. Please. I cannot.”

“You think that because your lungs are broken that you cannot master the blade?” Huizhen barks, pointing one of the dao swords directly in their face. “You are wrong, young one, as you often are. It is not your lungs that limit you.”

Bloodhound wants to scream, to yell, to rage against his expectations, but this language is firm and unyielding, and their tongue cannot form the words.

Huizhen sighs and offers them a hand. At least he is soft, sometimes.

------

They are twenty-two and Kwan’s knee presses uncomfortably into their chest.

“Please,” they gasp, trying to wrench her off of them, feeling the impact of her blows all across their body. “I am done, please, get off-”

“No, you are not done,” she says sternly, the line of her mouth thin and severe. Bloodhound struggles against her grip, their hands scrabbling against her knee. “You are not done until your Gods will it. Do you wish to betray your Gods, child?”

“No, never-”

“Good.” She lifts her knee and stands, leaving them gasping on the ground, massaging their ribs in anguish. “Honor them. Beg for their forgiveness and bring them glory. You are capable of so much more than this.”

Kwan’s eyes are hard, critical, pitying. She shakes her head at them and walks away.

------

They are twenty-five and they want nothing more than to go back home to Talos.

A fist connects with their chest, and their breath exits their lungs in a thorough whoosh. The impact knocks them back a little, and they stumble over their own feet, trying to stay upright. Another fist comes flying at their face, and they dodge it just barely. Bloodhound ducks and jabs their fist up into the man’s stomach, but he barely even flinches. He sends a fist into their gut, and another into their jaw, and they fly backwards, hitting the ground hard.

They feel the mask break around their face, and they panic, trying to press the pieces back together. But their hands are shaking and their breathing won’t settle, and their lungs burn horribly with exertion and shame. The mask falls fully to the ground, and a thousand pairs of eyes bore holes into their face.

“A face only a mother could love, that is!” a spectator jeers, as someone plops a wad of bills into his outstretched hand.

“Poor ugly bastard, no one would want a face like that,” another laughs, throwing a crumpled up piece of paper into the ring. The crowd begins to laugh and boo and jeer, and Bloodhound’s heart dissolves in a roaring maw of acid.

Their opponent looms above them, and they can’t do anything but stare up at him in terror. His eyes glint with a triumphant spark, and nothing about him is soft at all.

------

They are twenty-six and their money has run out.

They lurk in the shadows, waiting for some unsuspecting poor soul to wander out of the bar. A man stumbles out the door, leaning against the frame for a moment before he promptly throws up into the trash can.

Bloodhound seizes their chance.

“Are you all right?” they ask as they approach him, trying to make their tone friendly so he’s not alarmed by the mask. It doesn’t work.

“Who’re you?” he slurs, trying to pull away from their outstretched hands.

“Do not worry. I am just going to call you a cab,” they soothe, grabbing him to hold him upright. He immediately goes slack in their arms, and Bloodhound swiftly searches his pockets for his wallet or billfold. They locate it with ease and pocket it, and they’re left feeling a strange sense of longing.

They haven’t touched another person like this in years. Never mind that it’s not romantic. Never mind that it’s not even platonic. The pressure of this man’s body against theirs satisfies a deep ache they have been harbouring for an eternity, and they have to force themself to instantly let go of him. He stumbles blearily and collapses against the wall of the bar, groaning.

They walk away, the man’s wallet burning a hole in their pocket.

------

They are twenty-eight and what they’re doing feels so, so wrong.

“Just hold still,” she murmurs, her soft, well-manicured hands moving down their chest and stomach to undo the belt around their waist. Bloodhound tries to relax, tries to press their head back down into the pillows and let Keres do her work. She’s beautiful, and certainly attractive, and they know that she would treat them well, but this feels so foreign, so alien. They… they don’t deserve this. Not after… everything. Panic and fear seize their chest, and flashes of memory flit across their eyes- Boone’s beautiful blue eyes locked on theirs as he moved in to kiss them; his hands on their body as they moved together; his heartbeat in their ear as they relaxed in his arms, breathing heavily-

Her fingers make quick work of their belt, button, and zipper, and she’s eagerly teasing the pants off their legs when they cry out, “Stop!”

Keres’ lust-filled eyes wander up to theirs, and she looks irritated. Cross. “What is it?” Her voice holds no softness, only a hard frustration that Bloodhound flinches against.

“Please, just stop,” they beg, pulling their pants back up in a hurry. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.” They nearly kick Keres in the face in their rush, and she dodges, scoffing.

“Fine,” she spits, sitting up straight and pushing all her gorgeous brown hair over one shoulder. “I bet you couldn’t handle me anyway.”

Bloodhound scrambles off the bed, grabs their bag, and is out the door before she can insult them any further. The moment they had refused, she had been so biting, so annoyed. Bloodhound does not think they would have enjoyed it like she thought they would.

But she could have been soft.

------

They are thirty-five and tired. So tired.

They slide the card back across the table, fold their arms across their chest, and shake their head. “I have no need of your petty squabbles for fame and glory,” they say, their tone flat and emotionless. “I have my own path to follow, and I do not wish to disrupt it.”

Blisk shrugs. “Up to you. You know where to find me.” He pushes his chair back and stands, and then begins to walk away. But he stops, seeming to remember something, and turns. “You know, that accent of yours sounds a little familiar. Met a doctor a couple years back that sounded just like you. Wouldn’t happen to be from Talos, would you?”

Bloodhound stiffens. “No.”

“Shame.” He shrugs again, and yawns. “Knew some scientists that were there when the meltdown happened. Nasty stuff. Wonder if they might know anything about the team that died?”

Their blood turns to ice.

They pick up the card and pocket it. “Count me in.”

Blisk smiles. There is no softness there. “That’s what I thought.”

------

They are thirty-eight and their senses are muddled and crossed.

Bloodhound can just barely make out a couple of voices fighting, but they’re much too tired to try and figure out who they are.

“Hey, look, I’m just trying to see if they’re okay-”

“And I am telling you that their medical details are none of your business. Bloodhound’s privacy contract very clearly states that no one aside from myself or Ms. Che is allowed inside their room after matches without their express consent. You will just have to wait, Mr. Witt.”

“...Damn. You’re just as stubborn as they are.” A pause. Then, “Why do you sound just like them?”

Bloodhound’s eyes flutter, then open.

An ache immediately settles into their limbs, concentrating in their skull and neck and radiating outward to their extremities. The light from above the medical bed pierces their eyes and makes them sting, and they turn their head away in discomfort. Their head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Bloodhound groans a little, their hand moving to rub their eyes. Someone has removed their helmet and goggles, but they’re not afraid. They trust their doctor with their life.

The sound of quiet feet greets their ears and they look up, squinting through the bright lights above them. “What happened?” they ask in their native tongue, and their mouth is uncomfortably dry.

“It seems that you lost.” Boone’s voice is tired, annoyed. Bloodhound’s vision clears up, and they watch as Boone scribbles on a clipboard, his blue eyes sparkling under brows furrowed in concentration. His white-blond hair is tied up in a bun, little wisps falling out at his hairline and his nape. A long-forgotten curl of fondness takes place under Bloodhound’s ribs, but they allow it to drain away, knowing they’re just high on pain medication. Their time with him has long since passed.

“And so it does. How long was I asleep?” Their voice feels brittle and drained, and they swallow to bring some moisture back. It’s difficult, but eventually their mouth no longer feels dry and sticky. “And where is Artur?”

“I sent Artur on his way. He’s fine. Not a scratch on him. It’s only been a couple hours since the end of the match.” Boone replies. He finishes writing and clicks his pen. “You’re good to go. Rig did its job. You should only have a headache for a couple hours.” Boone inclines his head toward the door, finally looking at them. “You’ve got a visitor, by the way, and he’s quite insistent upon seeing you. Keeps bothering me every time I leave the room.”

Bloodhound’s eyes wander to the door, and they spot shadows of a pair of feet passing back and forth on the other side of it. They would recognize Elliott’s anxious pacing anywhere. A smile wanders onto their face, and they forget that they do not have their goggles on to help hide their emotions.

Boone scoffs and rolls his eyes, his jaw set. “Really, Hound? Mirage? That’s just pathetic.”

“What do you mean?” Bloodhound asks, a hint of defensiveness creeping into their heart.

“Heartthrob of the Outlands, isn’t he? Bet he’s got a new person in his bed every other night.” Boone strides over to the whiteboard on the wall and jots down a few notes.

A strange flash of annoyance strikes Bloodhound’s chest, and their eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know that, Boone. For all you know, he could be completely inexperienced.”

Boone laughs, his face incredulous and doubting. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Houndie. Mirage, a virgin? Even you know that’s a load of shit.”

“Don’t call me Houndie,” they snap, locating their goggles to put them back on. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Oh, fine, Bloodhound,” he replies, rolling his eyes. He hands them their helmet from where it had been lying on a side table, just as they finish stretching their limbs. “Just get your things and get out of here. And if he kisses you, don’t say I told you so.”

Bloodhound’s cheeks burn fiercely, and they’re more than happy to put the helmet back on. “Him? Kiss me? You’re out of your mind, Boone.” They get up from the bed and test their balance, keeping a hand on the sheets. Their head pounds and spins just a little bit, but they breathe deep through the respirator and the spinning soon stops. “Elliott would never bother with a face like this. Besides, who said I was interested?”

“Oh, it’s Elliott now?” Boone smirks. “That familiar with him, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” Bloodhound says, already irritated with him. “Do I get anything for the pain, or must I suffer even more because of your nonsense?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t like taking an entire magazine of R-99 bullets to the head?” he says sarcastically, already starting to change the bedsheets. “Of course I’m helping you out. Top drawer, over there.” He points to the counter in the corner, and Bloodhound goes to retrieve the bottle of pills. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“You know I would never say that,” Bloodhound sighs, rolling their eyes and pocketing the small bottle. Boone was often so sarcastic and assuming- those were qualities that Bloodhound did not like in him. Even after nearly a lifetime of losing each other and finding each other, there were some things that never changed. “Thank you, Boone.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Hound.” Boone nods to them as they walk out into the hall, and Bloodhound inclines their head towards him as they shut the door.

Bloodhound winces as a wave of pain radiates throughout their skull. They can’t wait till they are safely in their apartment so they can take off the mask, down some of the pain pills, and hopefully take a nap. The medical bay is mostly empty now, with only a few doctors and nurses walking through the halls towards their patients. They look around the hallway, and sure enough, Elliott is standing up from his chair, a relieved expression on his face.

“Hey,” he says, a smile breaking through as he walks toward them. “Your doctor finally let you go, huh?”

“Yes, he did,” Bloodhound replies, glancing behind them to make sure they properly closed the door. “I trust him with my life. I hope you can understand his reluctance to allow anyone inside while I am not aware of who is present.”

“Of course,” Elliott replies, nodding. “Hey, why does he sound like you? You guys have really similar ac- accents. Are you siblings or something?”

A funny little jolt electrifies Bloodhound’s veins, and weirdly, they laugh. “No. Boone and I are not siblings, but… we did grow up together.” The casualness with which they drop such a guarded piece of information startles even Bloodhound, and they snap their mouth shut. Thankfully, Elliott has seemed to pick up on when they feel uncomfortable, so he does not push the question further, even though Bloodhound can tell he wants to.

“Are you okay?” He fidgets with his fingers a little, and Bloodhound notices that he has not yet gone home to shower- his hands are caked in dirt and blood. He still smells like sweat and gunpowder, but Bloodhound can just barely make out the scent of his cologne beneath it all. They blush.

“I am fine, Elliott. Why are you still here?” they ask, a little harsher than intended. They find themself wishing they could take off the mask so he could see the smile that they force onto their face so he knows they’re not mad.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he replies, shrugging. “Can’t a man check on his friend?” He raises an eyebrow, and Bloodhound can sense the playfulness in his tone.

“You are right,” they admit, bowing their head a little. “Thank you. You are very kind.” They stand there awkwardly, not sure whether to leave or stay, but Elliott begins to walk to the exit, and Bloodhound follows him without a second thought. “Congratulations on your win today, félagi. It was much deserved, and I am proud of your improvement.”

Elliott laughs and ruffles his own hair, and the way it sticks up makes a curious little feeling rest under Bloodhound’s ribs. “Hey, thanks! I’d say sorry for landing you in the hospital, but it’s just an uc- up- occupational hazard at this point.” He shrugs. “Least I could do is make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be fine,” they assure him. “I have a headache, but it will soon subside.” Bloodhound rolls their neck as they walk, sighing. They suddenly remember the way they had run out on Elliott the night before, and shame floods their stomach, twisting it painfully.

“I am sorry for leaving so abruptly last night,” they murmur, their own fingers beginning to fidget with the bits of fabric on their coat. “I… I was overcome by an unpleasant memory, and I did not want to disturb you with my emotions.” The apology does not feel sufficient enough. Elliott has been so patient with them, so kind and supportive, and they’ve done nothing but hide from him. They want… they want to open up to him. Would that be safe? Would it be smart? They don’t know, but the burden of keeping everything to themself is beginning to weigh on them, and they hope that Elliott can withstand the enormity of their secrets.

Elliott shakes his head. “I was really worried about you.” His voice is low and warm, and it feels like an embrace of warmth. His arm twitches, and it almost feels like he wants to grab their hand. But he thinks better of it, and instead goes back to fidgeting with his fingers. “It means a lot, what you told me. I know that must have been hard.”

Bloodhound’s heart fills with a hope they haven’t felt in years, and if they weren’t still in the hospital, they would have pulled him into their arms right then and there. The urge is so unlike them, so uncharacteristic of their usual persona that they wonder just how much the pain medication is affecting them. They settle their emotions and touch his arm briefly. “Thank you, vinur minn. I am blessed by your willingness to listen.”

An idea comes to their head, and if they had thought of it a couple weeks ago, they would have immediately rejected it. But things could change so quickly, and they had. Elliott is a testament to that. So they open their mouth and ask, “Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening? After we have both sufficiently washed, of course.” Their cheeks burn spectacularly at the implication, but he cannot see it, and for that, they are grateful. “I owe you a great many explanations.”

Elliott looks like he’s just been hit with a frag grenade. He stares at them blankly for a few agonizing moments, and Bloodhound thinks they have overstepped their bounds, but he begins to babble. “I- are you sure? I mean, yeah, absolutely! That would be great!” The grin that splits his face makes their heart leap spectacularly in their chest. “I would love to. You definitely owe me, H- I mean, Bloodhound.” His cheeks blaze, and it’s so endearing to Bloodhound that they smile at him stupidly underneath the mask.

“It is settled, then,” they announce, just as the pair of them reach the exit. “You are welcome to arrive any time after eight. That should give us both plenty of time to wash up and eat dinner.”

Elliott nods vigorously, smiling like a schoolboy. “It’s a date! I-I mean-” His face drains of color and he shakes his head. “It’s a, uh, it’s a m-meeting, or whatever you want it to be. I mean, it could be a date if you wanted but I, uh, I mean, that would be fine, I… guess?” The poor man looks like he wants to melt into the floor, and Bloodhound’s heart pounds in their chest as they chuckle.

Bloodhound is enchanted by his eagerness, by his willingness to be with them, and they hope they are not making more out of this than it is. “I will see you then, Elliott,” they say, touching his arm once more. They give him one last lingering look before they walk out the door and into the crisp Solace air.

#apex legends #miragehound #apex #bloodhound #mirage #bloodhound apex #bloodhound apex legends #mirage apex #mirage apex legends #elliott witt #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #miragehound fanfiction #my writing

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maevemarethyu · 3 years

Text

Unexpected (1/?)

Summary: A Bucky x Reader fic

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Warnings: Cheating, Threats, Sad Boi Hour, Heatbreak, I’m not quite sure what else.

“Your husband is fucking my wife.”

Those were not the words you were expecting to hear when you open your door on a cool Wednesday night. Even more shocking was the man who said them: James Buchannan Barnes.

An Avenger was on your doorstep with red-rimmed eyes and a stoic look on his handsome face.

Your first instinct is to deny the accusation. Your husband loves you! You’d been married for nearly six years. You had been high school sweethearts, you never went to bed angry, you had your neighbors over for game days, hell you had just gone on your weekly date night yesterday!

A date night that he had to leave early because of an emergency at the station but, he couldn’t help that. He was a police officer for the NYPD and he couldn’t control when bad guys decided to be bad.

Right?

Yes. Your husband loves you which is why he hates working late all the time and he spoils you with gifts and flowers. He’s been planning you both a surprise trip for vacation which is why he never let you see his phone or laptop. He had gone to your favorite store to buy you a new perfume which is why his shirts smelled like rose instead of your signature lemon and rosemary scent.

Right?

The tears welling in your eyes make you realize just how much of a fool you really were and suddenly, all you want to do is scream. Your lips fall open to follow through but, your voice won’t comply and all that comes out is a single syllable.

“Oh.” You had never thought a two-letter word could hold so much heartbreak and, apparently neither did the ex-Winter Soldier because his mask of aloofness falls, revealing raw and unhidden heartbreak in his blue eyes.

The two of you stay silent for a moment, processing his words while staring at one another. The unspoken question of now what? lingers between you. What does one do when their world is shattering around them? When you find out that the person you thought was the love of your life was sleeping with another woman.

Last night… Patrick came home late and you two…

“I’m going to be sick.” You announce blearily before rushing to the bathroom and emptying the contents of your stomach. This couldn’t be happening. This was all just some sick dream because there was no way Patrick would do this to you; with the Winter Soldier’s wife no less. You were normally impeccable at spotting a liar but, you had been duped.

“I’m sorry.” The aforementioned soldier’s voice startles you and you wipe the sick from your mouth before facing him. “I-I thought you deserved to know.”

You appreciated it. Really, you did but, you couldn’t bring yourself to thank him. Ignorance wasn’t a good color on you but, you needed time to let the thoughts swirling in your mind settle. Speaking of swirling, you suddenly remember to flush the toilet with a cringe. You could handle blood, excrement, urine and everything in between but, vomit? That was your weak point and it made this whole situation burn more than the acid that had crawled up your throat.

Yet, there was no judgement in his blue eyes when you finally get the courage to look at him; only understanding.

Of course he was understanding. He was probably the only person on the planet that could understand your situation in depth. He was in the thick of it with you.

“I’m sorry too.” You manage after several deep breaths and his jaw clenches tightly. You didn’t know what you were apologizing for but, you could tell he appreciated it; his face was quite expressive for a well-known soldier turned assassin turned hero. “I’m Y/N.”

You knew he knew your name (how else would he have found you) but, you still felt the need to introduce yourself no matter how shitty of a situation you were in. His blue eyes widen in realization before shooting to his boots.

“Ah, shit. I really just rushed here and- That wasn’t the right way to go about this.” Understatement of the century. “James Barnes.” He finishes.

You would have called the way he stumbled over his words cute if your heart wasn’t currently lying in the bottom of your stomach in a million pieces with Patrick’s name written on every shard. It hurt.

“You know, I used to think writers exaggerated how heartbreak felt.” You let out a humorless and bitter laugh. “I didn’t think it could hurt this much.”

The cold tile of your bathroom floor was starting to make you butt ache but, you can’t bring yourself to move from your position resting against the bathtub and you accept this as your new life. Counting the tiles until the pain passes.

He hums in response, sliding down to the floor across from you, back against the wall. “This definitely ranks in the top five shittiest things to happen to me.”

That said something if everything you read about the Winter Soldier and HYDRA was true. You never could understand how people could treat each other so cruelly. Why someone would go out of their way to cause another pain. It just didn’t make sense to you.

Your next door neighbor’s music lilted through the walls as it did every night and it gave you an odd sense of comfort. She was a cello player and always seemed to play whenever you were having a bad day. You and James sit in silence and your eyes fall closed as you listen to her rendition of Electric Love.

It was one of your favorites but, Patrick always complained about the noise. Patrick.

The cheating, lying, manipulative piece of shit.

“How did you find out?” You hiss, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. You didn’t want to know. Right now you just wanted to curl up on your couch and eat enough ice cream to put you into a coma.

He clears his throat and you open your eyes to meet his. The pain in them shone clear and you could feel tears welling up again.

“I had my suspicions. Cla- She had been acting weird for a few months but, she kept turning it onto me. Told me I was imagining things.” His voice was thick with emotion and it broke the dam keeping the tears in your eyes. “It was Sam that saw them. He was testing out Redwing and we thought it would be funny to check on ou- the apartment; maybe tap it on the window and scare her a bit. Guess the joke was on me.”

Oh. You got sick just thinking about it. You couldn’t imagine seeing it first hand.

“I didn’t go home last night. Steve made me stay at the compound while Tony ran facial recognition on your… Tony told me he was married and I came straight here.”

His words cause you to sputter. “You mean they don’t know we know?!”

He shakes his head and a shaky breath leaves your lungs. You were half hoping Patrick got his ass handed to him Avengers style and that’s why he hadn’t come home yet; save you the trauma of confronting him yourself.

The other half of you was glad. You had more than a few choice words for your husband; the first ones being We’re getting divorced.

“I didn’t know how to face her.” He whispers and your ears barely catch it. He sounded so defeated and you were sure it matched the look on your face. You didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this. He was a goddamn hero.

The anger doubles in your chest, making up for his lack of. You’d never seen anyone so broken, hell, you’ve never felt so broken in your entire life and the people causing it were none the wiser. Patrick had told you he was staying at the station tonight but, you knew better now.

He was with her. They were together while you and James were crying on your bathroom floor, trying to salvage what was left of your hearts.

And you were starting now.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and dial the number of one of your best friends, ignoring James’ curious blue eyes. It rings exactly two times before you hear a warm hello?

“Hey Mattie.” Trying to keep your voice level fails miserably when you sniffle. “I- uh. Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow? Foggy too?”

“Y/N. What-“ You cut him off with a please and he agrees reluctantly. You agree to meet him at your favorite diner at nine tomorrow morning. You just had to get through tonight.

“Thank you Matt. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You hang up the phone and chuck it past James’ head, through the open door, and it hit the wall with a satisfying crack; catching the Avenger off guard. You weren’t a pacifist but, you weren’t usually so violent. You almost pitied Barnes, he was seeing the worst of you tonight and it was his first time meeting you.

“Friend of yours?” He asks with a barely there smile and you nod while chuckling at your own outburst.

“He’s my best friend… and a lawyer. I want the divorce papers ready so I can shove them in Pat’s stupid face when I confront him.” You notice his jaw twitch at the mention of divorce and you eye his sour look curiously. “What? You don’t expect me to stay with him after this, do you?”

Wide eyes meet yours and he shakes his head slowly. “No. It’s not that. It’s just divorce wasn’t really common in the thirties.”

Oh his sweet summer soul. You had almost forgotten he was a man out of time; still adjusting to the new age. It made your blood boil to think that his wife would betray him like this.

“Welcome to the twenty first century. Where you don’t have to stay married to cheating spouses.” You mutter, raising an invisible glass in a toast.

“How?” He asks, catching you off guard.

“How what? How does one get a divorce?” He nods, looking lost and you don’t hesitate. “Come meet my friends with me. This is all new for me too and I trust them with my life.”

You didn’t want to mention that you honestly wanted him there because he was proof that you weren’t the only one fooled. You weren’t alone in this.

“Are you sure? I understand that its private and-“

“Privacy went out the window when your wife fucked my husband.” You scoff, mirroring his crude language from earlier; he winces before apologizing again.

Your phone goes off in the hallway, signifying the timer you had set was finished and you stand with a groan; joints popping from sitting on the floor for too long. Your mind immediately switches in to work mode; eyes going dry and breathing evening out. It was a superpower of yours; the ability to compartmentalize your feelings.

“I need to feed Laysa.” You walk past the man on the floor, missing the look of horror on the man’s face. “She gets cranky when she’s hungry.”

He doesn’t speak but, he follows you into the kitchen. You had premade the bottle so all you had to do was microwave it for a few seconds. You suppose having a stranger following you around in your home should be more worrying but, you were just happy you weren’t alone; having the ex-Winter Soldier near you felt as natural as breathing and you didn’t have the mental capacity to question why as of right now.

Barnes opens and closes him mouth a few times, looking as if he wanted to ask you a question but, unable to get the words out.

“How old is she?” He manages after nearly a minute of silence and you answer without much thought.

“Four weeks.” You hum, pulling the bottle out of the microwave and testing the temperature on your arm. “You know Ophelia’s Diner on West 49th?”

Once you’re sure the bottle is warm enough, you meet his blue eyes and a slight frown mars your face when you notice how pale he had gotten. He looks mortified but, nods anyway.

“Meet us there at nine tomorrow morning. Are you going home tonight?” You don’t know why you ask but, the thought of him having to go home and face- huh, you never actually got her name- left a rock in your stomach.

“S’gonna stay at the compound again. Make up some excuse. What about you? Are you two going to- I mean are you alright with- Is your husband?” He was stumbling on his words again and you find it oddly endearing that he was worried about you.

“Patrick is staying at the station tonight.” At least that’s what he told me You add under your breath but, its clear he hears you when his face turns grim. A painful silence envelops the room and can’t stand it so, you clear your throat and re-test the bottle.

James takes the hint and shuffles his feet, looking smaller than a man his size should. “I’m sorry again for showing up like this.”

“I appreciate you for having the balls to come here and tell me the truth.” You say with an honest, albeit dim, smile. “I’ve gotta get this to her before she gets cranky. I’ll see you tomorrow James.”

He tries to return your smile but, it comes out as more of a grimace. “Goodnight Y/N”

You watch his broad-shouldered form walk down the hall and disappear before opening the door to your spare bedroom turned nursery; weak mewls reaching you ears. You were late with the bottle and Laysa knew it. Cubs could be so dramatic.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x y/n

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quinn-tessence · 3 years

Text

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

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You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

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

Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059 @shit-i-love-clowns

#joaquin phoenix joker #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix #joker #joker fanfic #joker x reader #joker x you

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dumbkiri · 4 years

Text

My Universe

Watch me as my world burns down

Parts: [1]

Summary: [Name] is born! Jason abandons his daughter as he sets out on an adventure only Dick knows about. Damian takes a liking to [Name] even though she is learning to like him back. Jason returns and wants [Name] back, but Damian won't let her go easily.

Pairing: Damian Wayne x HoH!Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Slight Angst! Slight Fluff!

WARNINGS: MENTIONS ABORTION, ABANDONMENT

Jason Todd felt pain. He has felt so much pain in his lifetime that it could kill him now. At one point it literally did. He was murdered by a psychopathic villain and felt pain each time that cold crowbar touched him.

It was when he was reborn that he continued to feel that dreaded feeling. He was replaced by a new Robin. He was forgotten. At least that was what he thought. Jason felt pain.

Although it slowly went away when he met a young woman. Her name was Aurora and she had beautiful [h.color] hair that shone in the moonlight. She had twinkling [e.color] eyes that challenged the stars. Her intelligence could rival Batman. Her heart pure like Alfred's care for the boys.

Jason knew that as he spent time with Aurora, he would love her. Love her as he loved books. She was something he held dear to his heart. He was going to fight for her and come back to her alive. She was his motivation.

"Hey, Jay," Aurora called from the baby's room, "do you prefer the gun in the cradle or not in the room at all?"

Jason pulled his helmet off and rested it on the kitchen counter. He grabbed an apple and took a bite from it, "Uh, why are you asking me that question? It's a weird question." He began walking toward the baby's room to see his girlfriend.

"I don't know if you tell me, maybe I will," That tone she used. It was different from the soft one she usually speaks with.

He stopped in his tracks and turned away from the opened door. No way in Hell was he going in there when his girlfriend used that tone. No, it was dangerous. And Jason knows dangerous.

"Come back here!" She roared and chucked the gun at his head to which he nearly dodged it. "Whoa, babe, calm down!" He raised his hands above his head to protect himself.

Aurora stepped out of the room with a sneer on her face, "Calm down? You put a gun in the baby's bed! How do you expect me to calm down?" She grabbed a pillow off one of the couches and threw it at Jason.

He caught it in his hands and smiled, "Hey, A, it was an accident. Remember last night when I was stumbling around with a gunshot wound to my shoulder and I came through the baby's room?"

"Yeah?" Aurora said still fuming. Her hand reaching for another pillow.

Jason held the pillow in his hands as a shield, "Well, I must have dropped it and totally forgot I left it in there."

Aurora stopped reaching for the pillow and instead placed it under her chin, "That explains the blood on the floor and the rocking chair."

"Why do we have a rocking chair again? That's a prop out of a horror movie. Haven't you seen Annabelle?"

Aurora threw the second pillow and it successfully hit Jason in the face, "Yeah I have, you forced me to watch it."

Jason chuckled and put the pillows that were thrown at him back on the couch. Then he wrapped his arms around Aurora mindful of the baby. "I didn't force it on you."

Aurora scoffed, "You basically set all the TVs and phones to only play that movie until I watched it with you. I don't know how you did it, but you did."

"I'm pretty smart, Aurora." Jason bragged and leaned in for a kiss.

She pulled away and walked back to the baby's room, "Yes, but it was Tim that helped you. Don't try lying to me, I'm psychic."

"Right," Jason rolled his eyes and followed after her, "I forgot about that."

Jason Todd felt heartache. His heart had broken before. Shattered into millions of pieces that it was impossible for him to fix. For his family to fix.

Aurora was different. She pieced his heart all together. Made sure that his glass heart would shine again. And it did.

He was happy with her. Bruce noticed it. The boys did and so did Alfred. They noticed how radiant and happy he was when Aurora was mentioned. Sometimes using her name calmed him down and sometimes it riled him up. It just depended on how her name was used.

His heart ached when the doctor addressed her. It was when they made a difficult decision together. As a family.

"Ms. Davis, I have terrible news for you," The doctor looked at Jason, "excuse me, for the both of you."

Aurora sat up in the hospital bed and Jason stood off his chair. "What? Is she not okay? She was healthy two weeks ago." Aurora tried to make sense of what the bad news the doctor was bringing.

The doctor shook his head and looked at his papers, "The baby is very healthy."

"Then what's wrong?" Jason pressed.

"It's your own health, Ms. Davis," The doctor looked sadly at the mother. He set his clipboard on the counter behind him. "I'm afraid that your life will be in danger when and, or after you give birth. I looked at your previous health issues and you have a history of heart problems. Giving birth is a strenuous feat and it could possibly kill you."

The couple didn't say a word. Too shocked to form a sentence. The doctor proceeded.

"You have two options, Ms. Davis and Mr. Todd. Either resume your regular activities and give birth risking your life, Ms. Davis, and possibly the child's."

"Or what?" Aurora asked breathlessly.

"Or you can have an abortion." The doctor finished with his hands intertwined in front of him.

"What?" Jason asked more than angry. "She either dies giving birth or we kill our own child? You can't do anything else for us?"

The doctor shook his head, "I'm sorry that's all we can do for you. I'll let you two discuss on what you want to do in private." The doctor left the room and closed the door behind him. Jason couldn't bear to look at Aurora. Not when he received such terrible news. Not until he felt her hand hold his trembling one.

"Hey," She whispered getting his attention. His blue eyes connected with her sparkling [e.color] ones.

"We both know what to do, right?" She asked her voice cracking and tears falling down her cheeks.

Jason wiped his eyes with his free hand, "I don't know what you're talking about, Aurora." His heart breaking once again. And she wasn't fixing it this time because her own heart was breaking.

She tugged on his hand, "Yes, you do. I know you do." Aurora saw his heart breaking right in front of her and she desperately wanted to hold it together. But how could she when she couldn't do the same for herself.

"Look at me, Jason," She demanded as her voice cracked.

He removed his hand from his eyes reluctantly and looked at her. She was smiling at him even when tears were falling down her cheeks. "We are having this baby," Aurora said confidently.

Jason shook his head, "You'll die and I can't lose you. I won't lose you because of this baby. I won't."

Aurora bit her lip, "I'm seven months pregnant. Do you know what they'll do to our angel, Jay? Do you?" She asked angrily. How could he consider abortion so easily? Was it because she would die?

"No and I don't want to know," Jason said pulling his hand away from her warm one. He was beginning to feel cold.

Aurora shifted in her spot, "What they will do to our baby is dismember it while she is inside me. I don't want to be on an operating table knowing that my little girl is being pulled out piece by piece and with her skull being crushed."

"And I don't want to know that while you are giving birth that your heart is failing you! I really don't Aurora!" Jason yelled his blue eyes boring into her very own soul. "You're the only person who really understands my pain. The only person who understands me."

Aurora cried, "And she'll learn how to understand you if you give her a chance. Give [Name] a chance to understand why I love you!"

Jason released his glare and stared at his girlfriend with pity, "You already have a name for her? When did you decide?"

"Just right now," Aurora said calmly, "she deserves a name if we are discussing whether she lives or dies."

"Okay," Jason tried to calm himself down. He walked to Aurora's bedside and brushed her hair. "[Name] is a beautiful name by the way. Where did you come up with that?" He was trying to forget what was going to happen to Aurora in two months.

Key word: Trying.

Jason felt alone. He felt alone once the love of his life closed her eyes on that bed. He felt sadness when Aurora didn't feel warm and when the monitor stopped beeping. He felt alone even when he held his newborn daughter. Aurora gave her life having this baby.

Turns out, [Name] was born deaf. His own daughter couldn't hear his voice. It was a good thing because she couldn't hear him cry over his dead girlfriend, over her dead mother as Dick took her out of the hospital room.

Jason cried and cried over Aurora. He yelled at her for leaving him alone. For agreeing that this was the best choice. That letting [Name] live was the best choice compared to her. He cried for himself because he had a child to take care of. He had to go home without his girlfriend and with a baby.

"Why won't she be quiet?" Damian complained to his brothers and father while dangling a stuffed lion above her. His green eyes glaring at the infant girl with annoyance.

Dick walked over to the baby in the carriage, "Have you tried giving the lion to her?"

Damian handed the stuffed animal to [Name] and she rudely threw it back at him. She was still crying. Their problem was not solved.

"Oh, [Name]," Dick cooed and poked her wet cheek, "you're not so pretty when you cry."

Damian pushed Dick away from the little girl, "That won't help, she can't hear you." Damian focused back on shushing [Name] up. Maybe if he brought Titus down in the cave, the dog will cheer her up.

"Why isn't Todd here? It's his daughter," Damian placed the stuffed lion next to the [e.color] eyed infant. "He's been gone ever since she was born which has been two weeks."

Dick cringed at the fact. He knew exactly where Jason was, but Jason specifically told him not to follow. That he would kill if him if he tried to stop him.

Timothy stopped typing away on his computer and sipped at his coffee. He wasn't going to butt in on Jason's life choices. But it was messed up that he left them to take care of [Name].

"Jason is going through a lot right now, Damian." Dick tried to defend the second Robin. Although it wasn't going smoothly. "He just lost his girlfriend and it's not easy-"

"He abandoned his only daughter," Damian sneered. He had enough with Jason's theatrics. [Name] needs her father. "Where is he Grayson?"

Dick sweatdropped at the deadly glare Damian was giving him. He pulled at his shirt in a nervous way, "Man it sure is getting hot, how about we go for a walk? [Name] needs some fresh air anyways."

Dick grabbed the bassinet and carefully put [Name] in it. When Dick held her [Name] had stopped crying, but when he put her in the bassinet she started again.

Damian quirked an eyebrow, "Hmm, I know what the problem is now."

Dick gave Damian a questioning look.

"Stupid Grayson, tt," Damian tutted and picked up [Name] cradling her in his arms. Her crying seized and instead she began cooing at the green eyed boy. "She wants to be held. Obviously we aren't the affectionate type, father being the worst at it," Damian took a verbal jab at the man working at the computer.

Bruce heard his words and was slightly wounded. No, he was totally wounded.

"But she craves some attention, some love," Damian was droning on and when he was Dick walked backwards toward Timothy keeping an eye on the boy.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Dick asked Tim with wide eyes.

Timothy nodded his head, "The demon spawn is actually holding a baby. Jason's baby to be exact and when he finds out, he's gonna flip."

[Name] Wayne felt happy. That's all she felt when she was around her family. They were caring and loving. They gave her candy even when she wasn't allowed to have any. They made silly faces at her and gave her warm hugs.

She couldn't hear them, but the faces they made at her helped her. She understood when she did something wrong because they frowned. She understood when she did something cool because they jumped up in excitement.

It was difficult for her to understand their language. All she needed was facial expressions for now.

"No, that's not how you say 'princess', Grayson. Are you paying attention at all?" Damian scowled as he watched Dick try to sign the one word he wanted to learn to call [Name].

[Name] sat in Damian's lap happily as she slapped her hands on his legs. The green eyed boy not minding, he was hit harder than before.

"Look Damian, we should take [Name] out for a walk. I think she might be getting bored of sitting in your lap." Dick said resting his hands by his side.

Damian looked offended, "Bored?" He picked up the two year old and asked her, "You don't get bored of me, do you [Name]?"

[Name] laughed and reached for his face. Her tiny fingers wiggling around and her feet kicking in the air. Her pink socks covering her toes that curled. He brought her closer to his face and let her hands rest on his cheeks.

He could have sworn he saw the universe through her eyes. The planets revolving around the bright sun. Her eyes twinkled like the stars. He didn't know what the feeling was in his chest, he knew it was foreign. He liked the feeling.

"Her answer is no," Damian confirmed with a smug look.

Dick chuckled, "She can't hear you, so how do you know?"

"She looks happy to me, doesn't she?" Damian countered.

"You got a point," Jason said standing above the two males. Dick jumped out of surprise and Damian literally jumped from his spot. The green eyed boy holding [Name] close to his body and away from her father.

"Why the hell are you here, Todd," Damian asked with venom laced in his tone. If he was allowed his sword around [Name], he would have cut Jason where he stood.

Jason rested his hands on his hips, "I'm here to see my daughter and take her home where she belongs."

Damian scoffed, "Where she belongs?" He held [Name] tighter in his arms, but not too much so he wouldn't hurt her. He knew his boundaries. "She doesn't belong to you Todd."

"Neither does she belong to you, demon spawn."

"You abandoned her and now you want to show up here and take her away? I won't let you."

Jason sighed and looked at Dick for help. The older male shrugged his shoulders walking to Damian to take [Name] away from him. Damian hesitated, but knew Dick wouldn't hand [Name] over so easily. After all they took care of her for two years.

Dick walked a good distance away from them.

Jason rolled his blue eyes and turned his body toward Dick. "I'm not doing this right now. I'm leaving with [Name] whether you like it or not." He took only a couple of steps to Dick and it didn't take long for Damian to stop him.

The green eyed boy swiped his foot under the unguarded male letting him fall onto his back. Then Damian pressed his foot on Jason's chest, "I won't repeat myself Todd. You won't take [Name] away."

Jason gripped onto Damian's foot. "Don't test me, Damian," The blue eyed male growled.

"Same goes for you, Todd," Damian pressed his foot harder onto Jason's chest. His green eyes sparkling in determination. His motivation fuelled by protecting [Name] and when he heard her giggle behind him. His heart leaped. It was a weird feeling.

Caught off guard, Damian was flipped onto his back by Jason. His back crashing down and almost knocking the air out of him. "You don't listen, demon spawn. One day it'll get you killed."

Damian didn't like people like Jason standing over him. It wasn't right. So he rolled backwards standing protectively in front of Dick and [Name]. His black hair tousled from the fall. "I'm not stupid enough to repeat history, Todd. I won't die like you."

His words struck a chord within Jason. "Dick, I want my daughter back."

"I said she doesn't belong to you," Damian clarified getting Jason's attention again. "She doesn't know who you are. You're a complete stranger to her."

Jason rubbed his face in annoyance, "Which is why I'm taking her back, [Name] needs to be with her father. This is adult business and you don't understand that-"

"Adult business? Since when have you started acting like an adult? The only person that kept you in line was Aurora, [Name]'s mother." Damian spat with hatred.

Jason's blue eyes changed from a sunny sky to a storm in an ocean, "Don't say her name. You have no right to judge me for what I've been through."

"Imagine what you put [Name] through!" Damian pointed at the two year old sniffling in Dick's arms, "She may not understand what's going on, but she can tell by our expressions that this isn't pretty!"

"Why do you care for her so much, huh? She isn't yours to begin with. She never was!"

"I've been at her side longer than you have which is more than you can say for yourself! You're unfit to be a father!"

Dick watched with careful eyes as his brothers argued amongst each other. [Name] kicked her legs and pushed against his arms wanting to be near the bickering males. Then Dick started feeling weird and [Name] was beginning to sparkle.

Then suddenly she started floating out of his arms. "Guys…" Dick drawled out trying to get their attention. But they weren't listening. Dick watched as [Name] grew. Literally grow right in front of him.

"I say we got about this a different way, pipsqueak," Jason grabbed Damian by the collar of his black shirt.

"Is that a challenge, Todd?" Damian questioned raising a fist up in the air.

As Damian was going to unleash his anger, he stopped once he felt a weight on his back and small arms wrap around his waist. He looked down and saw a girl with [h.color] hair holding onto him tightly. Her eyes closed and tears streaming down her pretty face.

Damian lowered his arm and called out to the little girl, "[Name]?"

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Tags: @zalladane @buchanangaby @poisoned-pineapple

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laudedliar · 3 years

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1,15,16 for the dramatic ask, for any ship you like, please!

I finally did it! I mean it’s not a super long one T_T Sorry. But it was fun to write. :)

OTP #15: Who would fight an impossible battle to allow the other to escape?

@noire-pandora‘s Elluin Lavellan x Solas

It was gone. The orb lay broken and dormant on the ground, shattered to pieces beside the dead Magister. Slowly he knelt down to pick up the sphere, cradling it in his hands as a crushing despair began to wrap its stifling tendrils around him.

How could he fix all that had come to ruin without it?

The Veil rippled above them, crackling with energy in the aftermath of their battle, and Solas glanced to the side as Elluin called out to her companions shakily. Cassandra answered an affirmative word as she stepped around the cooling corpse towards him. Solas could not find his voice to answer, but felt the Seeker’s cool gaze upon him as he continued to attempt to piece the orb together futilely.

“Varric! Varric!” Elluin shrieked in sudden panic as she rushed through the rubble of the tumbled ruins to where the archer’s leg was visible from beneath a heavy rock. “Cassandra, help me! I can’t lift it on my own!” The Inquisitor begged as she threw her small frame against the stone.

The Seeker, who had been quietly watching Solas cradle his broken prize, turned her attention to Elluin’s plight, rushing over to assist in getting the rubble off the dwarven author. Pale brown eyes wrenched away from the two women pushing against the fallen rock to look back at the cracked orb nestled in his hands.

“Solas, please, we need your help!” Elluin cried out. A tug at his heart. She was straining and grunting with effort as her and the warrior shifted the largest rock and it moved off the prone dwarf.

All he had done had been for her. For The People she so loved, so that they may understand the true power of what they could be. The power that he had blindly taken away. Sundered them from who they truly were, until only shadows remained of his once great peoples. To set them free from chains of slavery he had fought a nearly impossible battle. Only to have unwittingly thrown them into the cage of mortality.

An unwinnable battle it seemed. To keep the elvhenan from one master, he had enslaved them to another. Yet he would continue to fight until the elvhen future was brighter than even it’s luminous past.

For all of them.

But, now, most of all: For her.

As he stood from where he knelt, still clutching his orb tightly, Solas watched sadly as the two women pulled the unconscious archer from under the debris and checked his vitals. Cassandra slapped the dwarf’s ruddy cheeks a few times, and Elluin cried in relief as the cross-bowman coughed and groaned in response.

They were preoccupied. Checking for broken bones, forcing the archer to drink a potion of healing. One of Solas’ own concoctions none the less.

Desire tugged him towards her. But duty and pride forced his sliding steps away.

He must absolve himself for her. A war was on the horizon, one that he did not wish to see such a gentle soul fight. He would not force her hand, one way or the other, if he could help it. Though, he had been known to make mistakes before and drag innocents along in his rough wake. As long as he was far away from her, she could not be held responsible for the actions he must take. For the path that he must walk.

For the seemingly unwinnable struggle he must fight.

And he would, that is, fight for her. So she could finally see the wonders she had begged him to tell her about while beneath the blazing stars above SkyHold. How marvelous it had been to witness such wanton desire as he told her of the stories he’d exhumed in his walks through the Fade. When she would hold his hand just slightly too tight as he escorted her through their shared dreams.

What he wouldn’t give but to always hold that hand. As she walked forever by his side.

Step by aching step he moved away from his companions and into the shadowy tree line. He could not bring her with him. This was his battle. This was his war.

And she deserved to be free.

Elluin wiped at her brow, brushing away a gathering of dust and blood from her forehead. She glanced at Cassandra and they shared a smile as Varric began to complain about his back hurting and how he would never again fight another ancient Magister asshole as long as he lived.

Cassandra helped the dwarf up, letting him lean on her hip as they walked down towards the crying calls of their compatriots sifting through the fallen rubble for them. Elluin looked around, her breathing returning to a steady beat as she took in the battlefield around her. Her attention was drawn over towards the Magister’s body, where last she saw Solas kneeling. But the Fade Mage was not there.

He was nowhere to be seen. The ruins were empty, save the dead Magister and his blighted dragon companion’s corpse.

“Solas?” She called out tentatively.

But the only answer was that of a howling wolf in the far distance. And the shattering of her heart as it broke into a million agonizing shards.

“He had been piecing that orb together. Corypheus’ orb.” Cassandra told her that night during the revelry. “I did not see where he went after. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.” The raven haired warrior bowed low to her.

“Don’t worry yourself over it now, Cassandra. Go! Drink, feast! We can talk about it tomorrow.” Elluin said, trying her best to keep her tone light even as her chest ached empty.

“And we have you to thank, Inquisitor, that we even have a tomorrow.” The Seeker said, nodding her head respectfully towards her before turning to join the others at the long tables decorating the great hall.

The celebration carried long into the night. But Elluin excused herself long before the festivities ended. She paused at the door to her chambers, looking over them all. So much hope and love shared between people who had barely known each other only a short time before. People that Elluin would never have met, would never have known had it not been for such dour events. Had it not been for that cursed orb.

Her feet made their tired winding way up the stairs to her quarters. Alone.

Her sheets were cool against her skin as she slid into the bed and held a pillow close. There was a very faint scent upon the sheets. Like milkweed and honey. Bittersweet. Solas’ scent. Tears gathered along her lashes as she remembered him joining her in her room and reading to her on nights she was mending after returning from some far off assignment.

”Hm, Dorian is right. This is nothing more than trite propaganda.” He’d said once, flipping through the pages of some Tevinter history book.

”Would you tell me a story you know?” She’d asked, hopeful for another peek into the ancient elvhen world.

”It would be my pleasure.”

Her eyes opened to the rising sun, blinking slowly.

Solas lay beside her, head resting on a pillow facing her. His eyes never left her gaze, and his lips stretched into a matching smile as her own bloomed across her face.

“Where were you? I was so worried. You missed the feast last night.” She whispered, afraid to break the calm of early morning.

He didn’t answer, only shook his head gently.

“I was thinking,” She continued, “We could let Dagna see the orb. She’s so talented, perhaps she can help you figure out it’s magics.”

His smile faded with each word she uttered.

Elluin paused, searching his familiar face. Searching for whatever it was hidden behind his eyes. To find the truth of what he was secreting away.

“Solas?” She asked hushed as she lifted a hand to reach for his own settled below his chin.

But the elvhen apostate pulled away from her reaching fingers, sighing softly. Sadly.

She pulled back, realization settling like a weighty blanket and drowning her. “Solas.” She called softly, trying to keep herself there in the Dream. Heart pounding and fretful she reached again for his hand. “Please.” She whimpered as the edges became faded, the sound of bird song piercing the cloudy haze.

Still his eyes never left her own, as if he were trying to memorize all of her as the Dream turned murky grey.

“Please!” She cried out once more before being jerked awake, still clutching tight his pillow. Her room was cold and dark, only the barest hint of pink blushing along the horizon through her window. And she was alone.

”I’m sorry, vhenan.”

#solas romance #solas fanfic #lavellan #finally got around to it #don't hate me #mild angst #dragon age #da:i

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