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intangibly-here · 3 years

Text

it’s a fact (that i want you in my life)

various (diluc, kaeya, xiao, zhongli)

- scenarios; 6.8k words - gn!reader - fluff & angst - hurt/comfort - warning: description of injuries/blood, mild cursing

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is it really so hard to be understood?

[argument & reconciliation scenarios]

title from mckay, jeff bernat - angel 2 me.

requested by @nanana-kashi

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❥ diluc

it’s a chilly evening, as always.

you trod down the dusty path, steps kicking up clouds of dirt and sending pebbles skidding as you walk. the dim glow of street lamps illuminate the edges of your figure, passing under them on your stroll returning home. you take carefully measured steps past the countless rows of grapevines, past the stone walls of the building’s perimeter, and arrive at the polished front doors.

the dawn winery is quiet in the evening, only the chirping of crickets filling the silence, whereas servants would fill the air with talk and work during the day. fishing out a key from your pocket, you unlock the door with a click.

all that meets you when you enter is more silence. empty again.

diluc has always been a busy man. he’s a hard worker, as are all of the people that surround the two of you are, and he carries the heavy weight of an entire legacy on his shoulders. recently, however, he’s been especially illusive, managing the angel’s share during waking hours and working undercover as the “darknight hero” so to speak throughout the evenings.

while it’s not out of the ordinary for diluc to work nights on end, it is unusual that you haven’t caught a glimpse of him at all, between visiting the angel’s share during his usual shift or roaming the paved streets of mondstadt. even asking charles himself remained fruitless.

“my sincerest apologies, but i haven’t seen him. i’d thought he was with you.”

it’s even more unusual that he hadn’t told you a word of what he’s been up to. were you that untrustworthy?

you close the door with a resigned sigh, removing the bow that’s been strapped to your back and resting it against the wall across from the entrance. your pull your gloves off, the mahogany leather of it reminding you of ruby eyes and stiff clothing. they drop into a box rested on a nearby shelf. the unsettling silence closes in around you, and for a moment, you breathe in a strikingly painful loneliness. it fills your chest uncomfortably, like it’s carving out a hollow space in-between your ribs, gnawing at your heart. then, you breathe out, and the discomfort dissipates. no, he trusts you. you know you both do.

even so, something shifts wrong inside you without diluc here.

you’re not sure how to feel about it.

you minutely fiddle with your ring, cool silver pressed against warm skin, finger tracing the simple engravings carved into it with care. it’d been your request for something subtle, away from the flashiness of blinging jewels and rare stones.

he’ll be back soon.

you say this, turn the words over and over in your head just as you turn the ring on your finger, but you know better than that. you had truly believed it the first day, but then the first day bled into a second, a third day into a fourth, a fifth, sixth, seventh—

and now you stand here on the eighth day by the arching doors, inside the enormous mansion, cold and disappointed and alone.

you shake your head, chastising yourself internally. it’s no use worrying yourself down over it. dropping the rest of your belongings in a pile by the foot of the bed, you scratch the back of your head and turn to the bathroom. best to run yourself a shower and get to bed quickly. the whirring of crickets and fireflies keep you company ‘till the sound of splashing water erases the quiet.

you’re toweling your hair off, foggy wisps of steam trailing behind you as you leave the bathroom, when you hear the resounding click of the front door.

diluc?

leaving the towel hanging around your neck, you walk to the entrance room where the man you’ve been waiting for stands upright, glancing at you when you enter. it only lingers for a second, before darting back to his own hands.

“welcome home.”

“thanks.”

the clock ticks in the heavy silence.

“not going to say anything?”

he lifts his head up to face you properly for the first time in a week, confused. fiery red hair shuffles with his movements, and he releases it from the confines of his hairtie. “what is there to say?”

you take a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling again. you fiddle with your ring again. “we haven’t seen each other for days, and there’s nothing you want to say?”

“...” he purses his lips.

“i’ve been looking for you.”

diluc looks away. “..i’ve been busy.”

your stare turns frostier by the second, the beginnings of a bonfire starting inside you. oh really now? just an ‘i’ve been busy’? “busy enough that you couldn’t spare even a second to let me know that you were doing okay?”

he bristles at your chilly tone, hackles rising, and body turning sharply away, apparently preoccupied with hanging his coat up. “i don’t need you to fret over me like— like this.”

the words have you suddenly losing all your temper, leaving behind only the dredges of a deep-seated sorrow.

“am i not allowed to worry about my husband?”

his untold frustration seems to only grow at the dimming fire flickering out in your eyes, and his eyes narrow. still, he stays silent, a brooding look on his face. it wars with the thinning desperation you unconsciously let yourself show tonight.

“ —even if you won’t tell me what you’re up to, why won’t you see me at all?”

the loosening hold on your emotions is gripped tight once more at the deafening silence not unalike how it were even without him. your face is drawn neutral once more, and you turn to make your way back to bed.

“..alright, diluc. goodnight then.”

seems like tonight was a lost cause as well. you trail through the hallways, pausing before the door to the study. you enter against your better judgement, something pulling at you to not do this— but really, did you have to listen to that voice? something curls inside you, hurt and tired. that voice never helped with anything anyway. diluc’s still drifting, far, farther away from you and you’re still alone.

(you know your emotions are getting the better of you, but you just can’t help it. how are you supposed to handle something you’d never dealt with before?)

standing before a relatively smaller bookcase, you reach up to pull out a book rather carelessly—

diluc opens the door, a regretful nervousness on his face and brow furrowed, to see the heavy wooden shelf tumble onto you. his eyes widen, and he lunges forward.

thud.

you blearily blink your eyes open a couple times to dim spots floating across your vision. two distinct voices murmur somewhere in the vicinity of the room. last you remember, you’d left diluc at the front door... and went to pick out a book for the study.. and oh.

so you’re recovering now, you’d assume.

you trace the bandages on your head with sublime caution. the door clicks shut, bringing you out of your thoughts, and you tilt your head on the pillow. red. it’s diluc. he’s in his casual attire, plain white top and black slacks, but is still so stunning. maybe even more so than his regular clothing.

diluc whips where he was staring at the door towards you, eyes wide and hand flying to his face. it’s flushed a brilliant crimson pink.

oops.

snapping out of his daze, diluc rushes to your side and kneels by the bedside. your mouth opens to protest his actions, then pauses, and closes again. it’s about time you receive an explanation. you two are past unnecessarily polite formalities. he grasps your hands in his calloused ones like a lifeline.

“i’m so, so sorry, my love.” he stumbles over his words, almost like he’s choking them up from the bottom of his heart. maybe he is. “i didn’t want to get you caught up in the— the incompetence of the knights, and all the troubles that come with cleaning up after them.”

he glances away at the floor, gazing somewhere you can’t reach him.

“...all it brings is sorrow.”

he takes a shaky breath, and his eyes glisten from underneath his mussed bangs. his hands tremble in yours, and your eyes soften. you run a hand through his hair in a silent gesture. continue when you’re ready. it’s alright.

“a-and so i didn’t tell you, didn’t go to find you. there was a really— really unexpected gathering of abyss mages, and i didn’t want you to get involved. but you’re right— i shouldn’t need to hide it or avoid you because of it. i’m—”

he chokes back a sob, wiping furiously at his eyes, and for a moment, it reminds you of how he was before everything happened. how bright he was. how open. but it’s of no importance any longer, and you brush the stray thoughts aside. mature or not, cheery or not, he is still diluc. he is still the man you love.

“it’s okay, love. it’s okay.” you shush his sobbing gently, cupping his face in the palm of your hands. “i forgive you. i always will.”

you nudge him up from the floor and into downy bedsheets, nestling him in front of you. encircled in your embrace, diluc huddles closer to you, sniffling all the while.

“when the bookcase fell on you, i was so scared. i— i thought you’d...”

he trails off, face buried in the crook of your neck. you can feel him pressing his cheek into it, nuzzling closer. you lean your head against his in a comforting manner, i’m here love, and the heavy conversation peters into a soothing silence. you both move in tandem with your breathing, intertwined and floating in the newfound peace.

“..’m love you...”

but a whisper in the (welcomed, for once) silence, diluc drags out the mumbled syllables childishly, probably embarrassed from the entire ordeal. you press a warm kiss to the top of his head and smile for once, affectionately, softly, sweetly—

“love you too, diluc.”

❥ kaeya

sometimes, just sometimes, the personality of kaeya alberich, mister cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, gets on your nerves.

kaeya is sly and sweet-talking, words sharp and lined with double meanings left and right. even at night, tucked into each other and settling into the quiet of drowsiness, teasing words will slip out of his lips and leave you either furiously blushing, firing back at him, or cracking up in full blown laughter— most of the time.

his joking manner is what drew you to him, the way he’s the spark in the room and how he brightens up your life with every passing moment.

it is also what is pushing you away now.

you know you’re being stupid. his joking and teasing is just one of the many parts of the man you fell in love with, inseparable and intertwined. it’s just kaeya being— well, kaeya. and it’s a wonderful part of him that you’d never want him to give up on.

the thought itself doesn’t exactly help when you’re spiraling into a pit of unwanted emotions.

lately, you’ve been heading home late, exhausted and worn out from putting everything into your job during the day. you hadn’t anticipated the rain to come down so hard and in turn didn’t bring an umbrella, resulting in absolutely waterlogged clothes and soggy shoes as you neared the pathway up to your home. today, you’d just like a little soft peace and quiet.

the thought stings like a sharp slap to the face when you open the door to kaeya’s unusually boisterous laughter (usually it’s less... annoying than this...), the room smelling thickly of wine. you can hear the clink of glass against glass from where you’re standing in the doorway.

whenever kaeya happens to consume alcohol, he becomes rowdier than ever; this incident is no exception. you shake your head and sigh. apparently kaeya is sober enough to notice you, because he looks over at you and grins in a telltale sign of mischief.

(not sober enough to recognize your breaking point it seems.)

“kept me waiting long enough, sweetheart! look at poor lil’ lonely me, sitting here with only this wine to keep me company.” he shakes the bottle in his hand, pouring another glass, taking another sip. “don’t you think i deserve a little something? maybe—”

the rest of his words are drowned out in the buzz of your mind, piling on your strained emotions. it’s so much. too much. (it’s unreasonable, you know you know you know, but you can’t stop, won’t stop, it won’t stop—)

does he not see you?

the words fly out of your mouth before you can reign in your haywire thoughts—

“would you just shut up? asshole...”

—anddd you didn’t mean to say that.

the rainwater drips from your clothes and pools onto the floor in a miserable puddle. the shocked look on his face and the thump of the wine botte falling to the floor says enough to send you turning on your heels back into the pouring rain. the door slams shut behind you almost achingly as you run wherever your feet will take you.

stupid stupid stupid! why did you say that! your head throbs in a mixture of hurt, guilt, and confusion. you stumble on rain-sodden ground and stray pebbles as your feet rapidly grow sore, unable to keep up with you anymore.

your legs give up from under you, and you collapse to the ground, face buried in your hands. even if you were tired, you shouldn’t have just shouted at him like that — he didn’t even know what you were upset over! you didn’t tell him!

picking the pieces of your thoughts back together as the adrenaline wears off, you unsteadily rise to your feet once more, knees shaky and weak. it’s as you’re preparing the walk home from who knows where you ran to, you hear a loud grunt from the vicinity behind you.

oh no.

just as you feared, when you turn around you’re greeted face-to-face by a shield-bearing mitachurl that’s likely strayed from its camp. its shadow looms in front of you, crawling forward as it slowly makes its way to you. you scramble for your sword, fingers digging at the buckles of your belt, then realize you had left it hanging on the sword rack at home.

(kaeya...)

the stomping grows closer, like an ominous sign, and you curse under your breath. as much as you’d like to believe you can survive this relatively unharmed, your wobbling legs and unarmed hands say otherwise.

without another moment to spare, the mitachurl dashes forward, swinging its shield as if it were weightless. you put all your effort into dodging its sweeping blows, the embedded stones whistling by your face as you scan the area in another attempt to run—

as you turn your head, the mitachurl charges in from your blindspot, slamming straight into the side of your head.

fuck.

the impact sends you falling backwards in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs and stinging scratches. the throbbing at your temple doubles over, and when you tentatively reach up to touch it, you feel it’s sickeningly sticky. blood. a lot of it.

black spots swim across your vision, and hazily, you think you hear a voice call your name in the distance. whatever it was, it’s soon drowned out by the sound of the creature stomping towards you impendingly.

hallucinating already? you bark out a hysterical laugh in spite of it all, then hunch over in a fit of hacking coughs. red streaks across the dry grass. it burns. you rub at your throat. any further efforts would be futile. you know a hopeless situation when you see one— or in this case, are in one.

thump.

another bruise blooms on your leg, and you wince. closing your eyes, your fuzzy conscious awaits its silence. there’s a swoosh, the raising of the mitachurl’s shield, and you brace your body for the impact—

“love, you— what— i—“

something, someone, lifts you up, up, up. and you’re drifting, carried in gentle arms and smooth fabric. the air grows heavier, the whistling of finely honed swordsmanship hanging in the wind, and the thundering steps draw to an abrupt stop. a familiar voice trickles into your ears, but your mind is sinking sinking...

(it trembles.)

on the edge of your sopor, just before you fall into its depths, you feel a clammy hand clutch yours. it’s warm.

mind empty, the bone-deep exhaustion swallows you, vision fading to black.

you awaken to soft white sheets and bandages looped round your arms. your muscles scream at you when you try to rise, flames of pain crawling up your torso and singing your nerves. a grimace paints itself across your face, and you slump back against the pillows. what had happened again...?

the lock clicks, door swinging open, and you turn your head to face it. kaeya steps in, a tray in hand as he closes the door with a twist of his hand. when he raises his head, his eye widens, and you can see the faint bags under it, red rimmed at the edge. you purse your lips, heart panging in your chest.

neither of you speak when he shuffles to the bedside, setting the tray down on the nightstand and picking up a stray pillow that had fallen to the ground. it must’ve been when you’d just woken up; you hadn’t noticed. he tucks in back into its spot behind your back, propping it to help you sit a bit more upright. he doesn’t retrieve his hands from where they rest on top of yours.

you start, “kaeya, i’m so—”

he doesn’t let you continue, pressing a finger to your lips.

“sweetheart, i should be the one saying that.” he ruffles your hair endearingly, expression both relieved and pained at the same time. “i was drunk and just let you run out there—” he pauses. “i pushed it too far.”

you can feel the start of tears welling at the corners of your eyes, hands trembling and teeth wearing at your bottom lip. “...i still should’ve spoken up. you wouldn’t have known otherwise.”

he smiles warmly, genuinely, the cheerful glint in his eye sparkling at you through glossy eyes. “then next time, speak up, alright darling? we both can learn from this.” you nod, and he cups your face, thumbing the rims of your eyes and the side of your cheeks where rivulets of tears paint transparent rivers.

“may i kiss you?”

there’s a lot more to unpack to your actions, both your physical injuries and mending the worn strings of your minds, but for now—

you nod wordlessly once more and lean in, meeting him in a soft, sweet kiss. he wraps his arms around you in a familiar hug that you’ve sorely missed and pulls back, pressing more small, but equally as sweet kisses across your face.

—for now, this is enough.

❥ xiao

“you need to take better care of yourself!”

xiao rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in protest like a child. he sure is acting like one right now. why is it that he’s only like this when it comes to medicine? every time... you grimace at him, glaring threateningly and shaking the porcelain bottle in your hand. the round pills roll over each other, rattling in the container.

“xiao...”

xiao just huffs and snarks back, turning his face away as if it’d do anything.

“i’m doing fine. adepti don’t need medicine.”

it’s a weak argument, and he knows it. why is he fighting this so much? it’s just taking painkillers. no matter; it’s time to put in the finishing argument.

“it’s from zhongli.”

the statement has him freezing in place, chewing his bottom lip nervously. of course it’s the mention of zhongli that has him finally seriously considering listening to you. petulant kid. can’t believe you’re really dating this thousand-year-old child.

“i—”

he cuts himself off and goes silent for a beat, another argument on the tip of his tongue, but accepts the medicine in defeat anyway. you drop the little jar into his outstretched hand, and he pockets it in a flash. now if it were only that easy from the beginning...

“fine. but you have to stop nagging me so much.”

you can agree with that one.

“alright, it’s a compromise.”

unconsciously, his mouth draws into a pout, and you chuckle, dipping down and kissing his cheek. his face shifts from awkward confusion to sudden realization, immediately stiffening up and stalking off in a mere shadow of his usual cool.

if you spy the pink flushed tips of his ears and the prominent blush on his cheeks as he leaps off the balcony, you keep it to yourself.

so much for taking care of yourself.

“and you were saying?”

the door slides open, frame rattling as the illustrations of one panel swallows the other. xiao in all his midget glory strides in, footsteps careful as he closes the door behind him. a tray is balanced in one hand as he does it, somehow steadier than you’ve ever actually held a tray before. even with two hands. is this an adeptus thing too? expert, perfect, unbelievably infallible tray holding? you can tell from the expression on his face as he makes his way over that something’s tipping him off. he’s definitely grimacing, like he would when you said something unbearably stupid— in his terms of course. not yours.

is he a mind reader too? wasn’t that only a rex lapis thing? like with the prayers?

“you look like shit.”

even worse than earlier goes unsaid. his face is typical frosty-xiao, but his brows are furrowed and disbelief shines in his eyes. guess it wasn’t your thoughts after all. but actually, did you really look that bad?

“yes, it’s that bad. now sit up so you can eat.”

whoops.

holding yourself from making any snide comebacks, you move to touch your cheek as you sit up, a little shocked when it actually makes contact with the back of your hand; it feels as though your face was set in front of an open fireplace. a damp towel drops off your forehead, plopping on the blankets. it’s lukewarm. huh, didn’t notice that before.

removing the used towel, xiao sets the tray down on your lap meticulously. now closer, you can see the plates of cold noodles and steaming bowls of jewelry soup sitting on the wooden tray. the smell is incredibly appetizing, as expected of smiley yanxiao, and you take care in preparing to eat the sumptuous meal.

“aw, thanks xiao.”

he turns his head away habitually, too shy to meet your eyes. you can, however, see his fingers subconsciously fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. the sun takes that moment to peek out of the clouds and through the window, outlining the contours of xiao’s face and soften his sharp features. it makes him look almost luminescent, like an angel descended from the skies, and you’re drowning in his being. he’s stunning.

feeling your stare, xiao whips his head back around, narrowing his eyes and nearly growling. like a cat, your mind supplies. your cat.

(and then you laugh at your thoughts, because xiao isn’t anyone’s. you just happen to be by his side for as long as wants you here.

and yours, him.)

“don’t stare,” he hisses, and then you can’t hold your laughter any longer, hacking out laughter at his defensive demeanor. “you- !”

he hastily picks up the pair of chopsticks on the tray, taking a mouthful of mushroom-topped noodles between them and stuffing it into your mouth. you immediately cease your chortling to chew, else you shove yourself into a choking fit.

floating bits of dust fade in and out of the sunbeams falling on the floorboards, as if playing peekaboo with the air. the noodles are perfectly seasoned, mixed with just the right amount of sesame and savory sauce to not be bland, but not taste overpowering. they’re light and easy to swallow, and xiao hands you a cup of tea as you finish your bite; his fingers brush against yours, soft and warm. you sniffle. your runny nose hinders your senses, but you can still smell the faint scent of qingxin blossoms, and a relaxed smile makes it’s way to your face as you take a sip.

this is nice.

❥ zhongli

you’d first seen morax in the midst of a fierce battle.

jueyun karst was as empty as always, save for the presence of several adepti crouching in the shadows, more than the darkness would usually hide. then, as you sat high in the branches of one of the many golden trees in the valley, feet swinging over spikes of climbing amber protruding from the ground, you sensed a change in the atmosphere. the wind whistling through the treetops and over your head shifted sharply, soft gusts transforming into howling gales that had you falling backwards.

cursing under your breath, you gripped the branch tightly, face scrunched in a grimace. by the time the turbulent winds had stopped, your hair blown astray in a hilarious mess and your back rebalanced against the trunk of the tree, a squirming, inky mass of something had appeared, hovering in the air just above the ground. it steadily grew in both physical size and energy, the air humming and pulsing with it’s indiscernible movements, until it towered at the height of the larger trees, far larger than any human could.

you could feel the surrounding adepti grow increasingly concerned, their energy fluctuating wildly, but they showed no signs of movement. why? shouldn’t they be neutralizing this threat? your feet pick up their movement again from where they’d stilled during the storm, swinging back and forth. forwards. the lump of dark energy steps towards the harbor. backwards. another step. forwards. it pauses in its steps, unfurling its wings. back-

thump.

so that would be why they hadn’t moved. almost as if heaving a sigh of relief, the chaotic energy of the adepti lurking nearby immediately deflate, retreating back into a neutral state. oh hoh, a big shot? when a gold-pattern embellished white robe emerges from a tear in empty space, you nearly topple over from your spot in the tree. bingo.

the storm clouds in the sky poured as they fought, the sound of pattering raindrops both filling your ears and serving as a backdrop to the clashing of metal and vicious growls. as you watched him fight, the prime adeptus rex lapis, lithe form crossing blows with the distorted form of an abyssal beast, you knew from somewhere deep in your soul that something was bound to change.

(it was when you were leaping down from the tree to leave, silently thanking him with a glance in his direction, that your gazes interlocked. morax made for an awfully odd sight when he had both a curious spark gleaming in his eyes and a dissolving corpse at his feet. and well, if it got even odder when he invited you to tea, that would be his problem, not yours— even if you had accepted the offer.)

soon after, in the days following that first “meeting”, you’d seen zhongli (as he preferred to be called) in town, lingering indecisively around various stalls both big and small. noticing his dilemma, as a good friend (if you could be considered that; you’d only watched him slaughter a demonic monster and talked over tea once after all) you walked over and helped him out.

multiple tea outings, three bags of mora and several weeks later, zhongli is looking into your eyes— and wow, this is really reminding you of your first meeting, where he was beating the shit out of that thing while you all just sat around and waited for him to be done and— he’s getting closer? please say this is going where you hope it’s going—

evidently you win this time, because zhongli moves forward and presses his (soft, soft, soft—) lips to yours in a breathtakingly warm kiss.

he tastes faintly like the sweet syrup of the almond tofu you’d shared earlier, and the moment he draws his head back to allow you a breath, you pull him back in for another.

your shoes step soundly against polished flooring as you enter the doorway of liuli pavilion, soft chatter drifting between the rhythmic click-clacking of your stride. the waitress greets you politely as you walk in, taking a glance at the clipboard she’s holding, then gesturing for you to follow her.

“based on your attire and the time, you must be the one mister zhongli is waiting for, no?”

to the assenting dip of your head she gives her own in return, leading you through the back doors and to a secluded table out in the open. settled by the railing overlooking the harbor is zhongli, pristine as always, sipping a steaming cup of tea.

he doesn't notice you at first, attention trained on the book lain out on the table, but then you're sliding into your seat with a quiet thank you to the waitress, chair audibly scraping against the pavement, and he looks up. remarkably deep amber eyes meet yours, but then again, you’re not meeting a random passerby now, are you?

(you’re not wooing just anyone.)

or at least, that’s what you’d thought. however, by the time he’s mentioned guizhong for the— what, 5th time tonight? you can’t say you’re completely unfazed. guizhong was his partner in war, best friend, closest companion; of course he would talk about her. it’s only natural now that you’re getting to know each other more.

yeah. natural.

you rest your head on the palm of your hand, leaning forward onto the table. the glass of wine in your other sloshes against its confines. your eyes follow it as the liquid tips and turns over itself, deep mahogany flowing into semi-opaque purples and vibrant reds.

guizhong. she’s an inarguably important part of his very, very long past. you understand this— but really, did he have to talk about her regarding every single thing? it’s as if— as if you were just— just there. you’re missing something. there’s a label for this feeling, you know there is, but it’s only escaping your mind the more you think about it. just what is it...?

“the leaves of this tea have been harvested from wild glaze lilies themselves, then additionally infused with the purified essence of glaze lily blossoms. countless meticulous steps and tremendous efforts must have been taken to execute this brew as splendidly as it was. it is most definitely an exquisite tea befitting of guizhong’s legacy.”

zhongli pauses, then sighs wistfully, a reminiscent expression painted on his face.

“an... unfortunate end she had. time never stops, neither for gods nor mortals alike.”

ah, yes. irreversible, unalterable, set in stone. you’ve heard these words so many times over, no matter how eloquently they’d been reshaped and rephrased. no matter how different they’d sounded every time. no matter how much you wished you could stop overthinking it.

looking less like a new romantic interest and more like a replacement, you chuckle inwardly to yourself as zhongli stares out over the harbor, a new mortal friend to chat with. the thought hits a little too close to home, and oh that was the word you were looking for.

you are just a replacement.

how could you not be? you see how zhongli looks when he talks about her. though he doesn’t say it outright, you know he loved her.

still loves her.

and so, who— no, what are you but just another someone?

and here you were thinking you were someone special. of course you just had to stick your nose somewhere it didn’t belong.

you’d really thought you could keep your head cool in all situations; no, before all this you really had— but suddenly when emotions and love are involved, everything spirals out of your control. vile thoughts crawl up from the depths of your soul, clawing at your rationality and eating away at your want want want.

and so when zhongli turns to look into your eyes again, mixed emotions rise in your heart like bile would up your throat. the wine you’d been drinking all night loosens your tongue, and the words are slipping out of your mouth before you can take them back.

“are you really going to talk about her all night?“

fuck.

zhongli frowns for a fraction of a second, his head tilting to the side in contemplation, then parts his lips and replies:

“is there a problem with it?”

his answer makes you want to throw your head back in hysterical laughter. his energy is completely placid, which actually might make it even worse. he’s genuinely asking. genuinely fucking asking. here your head is, overrun with thoughts left and right, mind fraying at the seams, and that’s what he’s asking? is there a problem? your hand clenches and unclenches, nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. he has to be joking.

a waiter arrives to change and refill the empty pot of tea, but immediately stiffens at the silent atmosphere. once the new tea leaves have been added and begun to steep, he immediately hightails it out of there, nearly slipping in his haste.

clink.

you set your wine glass on the tabletop. need to sober up after that one. zhongli still looks faintly puzzled, but allows you to do as you wish, and you both watch as steam floats up from the spout of the teapot. pouring a cup of glaze lily tea, your mind taunts, you take a sip to clear your head.

huh. that’s odd.

you pull the porcelain rim away from your mouth, tilting the cup to stare at its contents. nothing is out of the ordinary, and the tea smells as fragrant as ever, but there’s a particular... sweetness to it? if it were any more bitter you wouldn’t have payed it attention, but the brew shouldn’t be.. sweet?

“zhongli, did you add anything to the tea?”

the bewilderment on his face only grows.

“i don’t believe so? nothing other than the tea itself should be present...”

the corner of your mouth quirks down, eyes still inspecting the tea dredges in the cup. then why was the tea... was it really just your taste buds? a foreboding feeling sends shivers down your spine, and it’s building building building—

zhongli’s eyes suddenly widen, and he startles back from the table like a frightened colt. his head whips to the side, spear immediately appearing in his hand, and he draws his shoulder back at a speed you hadn’t seen before. the tip slices through air and hits its mark instantaneously, pinning the waiter from earlier to the wall he was lurking behind. zhongli rises from his seat, the tips of his hair glowing amber, and promptly knocks the man out with a blow to his neck. the waiter lets out a choked sound, then slumps unconscious. a crumpled piece of paper falls from his pocket.

instructions. zhongli understands what’s happened the moment he picks up the piece of parchment. most likely sent because of the swindling incident yesterday. a desperate last-resort attempt at ridding the millelith of a witness.

dexterous fingers begin to unfold the note.

but why implement such an unskilled assassin? they barely had any killing intent whatsoever, else they would have been noticed sooner. there are no weapons other than this dagger on them either... his eyes swiftly scan the contents of the note, and all at once, everything falls into place.

the tea. he should’ve realized it sooner.

the clatter of rattling dishes sounds from behind him, and he spins on his heels, staring wide-eyed—

red red red stains your hand and drips through your fingers, spilling out of your mouth and splattering the ground. red. your throat makes a garbled noise, not unalike the one made by the waiter just moments before, and your eyes dilate out of focus, rapidly glazing over. red.

you collapse in your chair, and all he can see is red.

picking you up carefully in his arms, he closes his eyes (from the red red—) and teleports to the pharmacy.

a single plead hangs in the air.

you jolt awake, hand flying to your mouth and chest heaving anxiously. you can still taste the metallic tang of blood. your blood.

then, as you’re trembling from what could have been a brush with death, firm arms wrap themselves around you, tucking you securely into a warm chest.

“shh... it’s okay. it’s okay.”

a low voice murmurs reassurances to you, cradling you in safety and tranquility. zhongli runs his hand through your hair soothingly, bringing you down from the frantic state you’d awoke to, and now you can recognize where you are. zhongli’s living room. you’re settled on his lap, gathered in his hold, and you can feel his steady breathing against you, a stark contrast to your own labored breaths. it’s when he’s sensed that you’ve regained rationality that he begins to explain.

“you were out for a few hours and collapsed due to the poisoning that was originally intended for my consumption. i sincerely apologize for that. it was an unfortunate mishap.”

his voice is smooth and saccharine sweet as he talks, a deep rumble that you can feel as you lay your face on his chest. he takes it on himself to explain a little further of what happened while you were unconscious, which you are grateful for so you can sort your... thoughts out, from before the interruption.

(while he brushes over the matter of carrying you in his arms rather perfunctorily, it still lights a warm flame in your heart. you want this to work out. desperately.)

when his narration peters out to a natural quiet, the muffled hum of early morning workers bustling about outside, you ask the question that’s been on your mind since the very beginning of your outing.

“is this,” you gesture to him, to you, to the comfort, the hugs, the love, “because of guizhong too?”

understanding finally washes over zhongli’s face in subtle waves, and he gives the most mesmerizingly fond smile to your doubting question. a rich chuckle bubbles up from his chest, the endearing tinge to it only pushing your slight confusion forward.

“ah, so this is what your previous question was mentioning.”

his eyes soften, the smudge of red under them only making the gold of his irises bloom even further. the hazy look in his eyes makes you feel like he’s drifting. you can recognize that well enough.

(drifting away from you, a faint bite of a bitter voice whispers.)

“yes, i did love guizhong. she’d departed from this land all too soon for me to convey it, and it is one of the few things i still regret to this day.”

the words spark a pang in your chest, the sharp, tingling-sour kind that reminds you of unripe sunsettias and overly spiced mint, but you take a deep breath and it fades. you should hear him out. you need to. you want to.

“i retold my memories with her to you because they were... my happiest memories. they were all i had to speak of, other than the redundant miscellaneous knowledge i’ve retained over the years. i’d thought you’d rather hear of happy experiences rather than the long tangents i can run myself off of. i’ve been properly chastised by this incident nevertheless.”

he gently tilts your head up from where it’s buried in the front of his silk shirt, wiping away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. you sniffle and wait for him to finish speaking, chest already lightening.

“however, remember this— while i did love guizhong, you are not a mere semblance of her for me to retain by my side.”

he calls your name softly, reverently.

“my love, you are not a replacement. the one i’m in love with now is you.”

relief, warmth, and love love love surges in your chest altogether as he smiles gingerly, and you cup his face with your own hands, feeling the heat of his flushed cheeks against your palms.

his lips are plush, soft against your own chapped ones as you draw him into a kiss spelling all the things you couldn’t say out loud. that you were frustrated at the thought of being a rebound for him. that you were terrified at the thought of dying with regrets. that you were unimaginably relieved at his explanation.

that you love him too.

zhongli takes it all into stride, leading your hands to rest on his waist as his own cup the back of your head and nape of your neck. he kisses fully, wholeheartedly, lips moving tenderly against yours, giving back what you’re bringing forward to him, for him, in equal measure. it feels right.

thank you, zhongli.

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yourtamaki · 3 years

Text

i’m here

ushijima x f!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, neglect, oral fixation, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

you never knew what to tell your friends when they asked what wakatoshi was like as a boyfriend. everyone wanted to know how the stoic man acted around his significant other. does he melt when he sees you? they’d ask with hearts in their eyes. does he turn affectionate behind closed doors? you never understood their fascination or why they expected him to be a different person just for you.

no, that was a lie. you don’t know why you expected him to be different.

it was coming up on your second year with toshi and you’d been friends throughout your high school years. you knew what he was like before you’d bitten the bullet and asked him on a date. so you had no one but yourself to blame now as you lay alone in your bed that felt far too big, wracking sobs so powerful your whole body trembled from the force.

a month. that’s how long it’d been since you last felt like toshi was a part of your life. you woke up alone, did the chores alone, made dinner alone and went to bed alone. his absence wasn’t the worst part, much to your surprise. it was the signs of disturbance around your shared home. a used plate in the sink. a new load in the laundry. signs that toshi was there, he just wasn’t there with you. it made you feel all the more empty.

you didn’t know why your body decided tonight was the night to give out but once the first tears slid down your face, you were helpless to stop the tidal wave of stress and loneliness and utter sadness from escaping. your only solace was how good it felt to finally cry. to get these corrosive feelings out of your system instead of continuing to let them eat away at you the way you had for weeks.

if only your cries were a bit quieter. maybe you would’ve heard the bedroom door creak open in time to wipe away your tears and feign sleep.

for a moment, toshi just stared at you, drinking in the details of your face illuminated by the light from the hallway.

“it’s late.” the deep timber of his voice made you oddly nostalgic. the two of you hadn’t exchanged more than a scarce handful of sentences during this period, all your communication being limited to dry texts. you’d never minded his texting habits, had even found it endearing once. but when the brief, one word answers became your only lifeline to toshi, how could you not feel as though you were only bothering him with every text sent?

when you didn’t respond, toshi carefully closed the door behind him. you didn’t need any light to know exactly what he was doing. he was nothing if not a creature of habit. you could picture him first placing his gym bag in your shared closet then methodically undressing. but instead of heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you felt the mattress dip as he sat next to you.

“you’re crying. why?” he said. you had to stamp down on the urge to reply with sarcasm. if you’ve learned anything from the years you’d spent with toshi it's that he was genuine to a fault. if he was asking you what was wrong, it meant he truly didn’t know. you needed to spell out your feelings for him on more then one occasion but once you did, he would be more than understanding, going above and beyond to rectify the situation. so why did you feel so hesitant to open up now? he could sense your hesitance though he didn’t understand the cause for it, his hand reaching out to find yours in the dark. “i can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

the dam broke, fresh tears streaming down your face. “toshi i miss you. i know you’re busy but it feels like we’re not even together anymore. i don’t hear from you, i don’t see you and i’m stuck in this house all day. i’m just— ‘m just lonely.”

your voice trailed off in a whisper quickly swallowed by the silence of the room, only broken by your sniffles. toshi was still as you cried before leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on. the sudden light stung your eyes and when you adjusted, you could see him already gazing down at you.

“i apologize, y/n.” he kissed the back of both your hands and brought them to his forehead, head bowed. “there is no excuse. my priorities should always include you and they haven’t as of late.”

“it’s ok. i understand you’re busy, toshi i just wish i could see you a little more.” he nodded, lifting his head and his eyes piercing yours.

“i will work to change my behaviour and become a boyfriend more deserving of your love.”

just like that you remembered why you fell in love with him. others saw toshi as someone incapable of understanding emotions, an apathetic person with only volleyball on his mind. it couldn’t be further from the truth. it was true he had difficulty reading your emotions but as soon as you put them in plain terms, he was there for you in any way you needed. “thank you.”

“that is for the future. but that doesn’t change that you feel hurt right now. is there anything i can do to ease your pain?” the look in his eyes told you no ask was too large, the single minded focus that made him one of the top volleyball players in the country was now directed solely on you.

“i just want to be with you.” you crawled into his lap, his arms coming up to hug you close to him.

“you’ve got me.” he murmured into your ear. “for as long as you’ll have me i’m yours. and i’m sorry i haven’t been here to tell you that.”

“you’re here now.”

“i am.”

“toshi…” it has been so long since you were last in his arms you couldn’t help how needy it was making you, desperate to feel him as close to you as possible.

“what is it, love?” instead of replying, you rolled your hips against his, kissing his neck. with only his briefs you could feel his bulge harden slightly with the pressure. “if that’s what you want.”

he lifted you both up off the bed, turning and laying you down carefully. he helped you out of your clothes, leaving you in your plain cotton panties, bra already removed for bed. if you’d known you’d be sleeping with your boyfriend you would’ve worn sexier pieces but judging by toshi’s ravenous expression, it didn’t matter to him. you felt beautiful in his eyes.

toshi kissed his way down, latching onto one nipple and rolling the other between his fingers before switching over, giving each the attention they deserved. he brought one hand to your face and said,

“suck.”

you sucked his fingers into your mouth, glad to finally have something to make you feel full. he watched you, mesmerized by how your lips looked stretched around his fingers.

“do you know how beautiful you look right now? my y/n. always need something in your mouth, don’t you?” you hummed, mind going blank as all you could do was focus on the slightly salty taste as you licked his fingertips.

once toshi deemed them wet enough, he snaked his hand down into your panties, teasing your entrance before dipping inside.

“you’re so wet. can you hear yourself?” you could, the wet squelch as he pumped his fingers inside you made your face heat up with embarrassment. it wasn’t your fault nothing came close to how toshi felt inside you. toys, your own hands, nothing compared to what you were feeling now, so stretched with only two of his fingers inside you. they curled inside you, pressing against that spot that had your legs quivering, gripping toshi’s forearm hard.

“where do you want to cum first, my fingers or my cock?”

“your cock please toshi wanna feel you.” you begged. a moment later, your panties were pulled off of you. toshi took off his briefs and knelt between your legs, his blunt tip resting over your pussy. he tapped it against your clit a few times, smiling softly at how you jumped at the contact before pushing in slowly, rocking back and forth until his entire length was inside you.

you expected him to move but he kept still until your eyes met his. he took one of your hands and placed it over your lower stomach, covering it with his own large hand.

“do you feel that?” he asked quietly. you could, there was a bump there from where toshi was buried inside you. “i’m here.”

“i know.”

“i’m here.” he repeated with more emphasis, head lowering until his forehead met yours. “and i’m never leaving you again. okay?”

an overwhelming tidal wave of love came crashing in, choking you so all you could say was, “okay.”

why did it take you so long to understand? what toshi didn’t say aloud, he said with his actions. the brush of your clit with his calloused thumb was an apology, the squeeze of your hip a reassurance. toshi spoke his reverence into your skin with every open mouthed kiss on your neck and his worship with each roll of his hip against yours. all you could do was lock your ankles around him and accept the torrent of love he poured into you.

“kiss me toshi please ‘m gonna cum.” his lips crashed against yours and you were gone, creaming over his cock as it continued to piston in and out of you.

“does that feel good, love?” he mumbled against your lips. you nodded frantically, still feeling the effects of your high. “tell me what you need.”

“more please.” your voice came out a whisper. you didn’t care about the overstimulation of your poor cunt. you weren’t ready to let go of this moment, of knowing you have toshi here with you, safe in your own small world together.

toshi gave you a tender kiss before pulling back. he gripped the back of your thighs and pinned your knees to your chest, your pussy gushing from the new position. his cock was pushing even deeper now, hitting a spot within you that made your tongue loll out at the pleasure. toshi was fucking into you at a brutal pace and you knew he was close by the small grunts he was letting out.

“hold yourself open for me.” you did as he asked, flushing at how dirty you felt with your pussy so exposed. with his now free hand, toshi placed his fingers back in your mouth. your eyes widened as the taste of your own arousal exploded on your tongue.

“do you like how you taste?” he asked. you sucked at his fingers greedily, licking them clean and he hummed, “i knew you would.”

the pressure in your abdomen was steadily building with every pump of toshi’s cock. his fingers were keeping your moans muffled and he seemed to realize he was missing out. he pulled his hand back, small trails of saliva stringing out as he did. he slammed his hips into your as though he was trying to make up for all the sounds he had missed out on and you did not disappoint, babbling praise for the man fucking you senseless.

“you’re close i can feel it. can you cum with me y/n? can you do that for me?”

“yes fuck toshi i love you i wanna cum for you.”

“go ahead, my love. let go.” you threw your head back as you let go and came for the second time, the erratic clenching of your walls pushing toshi over. you held each other through your highs, chests heaving together as you caught your breaths. when he tried to pull out, you tightened your legs around him.

“stay?” you wanted this moment to last, to be with toshi, connected for as long as you could. he shifted until you were both laying on your side spooned together, careful to not pull out of you.

“go to sleep, my love.” there were still things you both needed to work on in your relationship but you chose to embrace the peace that was sleeping with the arms of your boyfriend wrapped securely around you.

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #ushijima imagine #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader #haikyuu angst #ushijima angst #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi imagine #ushijima wakatoshi smut

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obsessioncalledhsmtmts · 3 years

Text

What I would've done for S2 & S3 of hsmtmts if I was the writer/director:

Nini

I would've probably changed Nini to not getting into YAC in the first season. She would've stayed the second semester at East High. She would spend the season working on her acting to get ready for an audition for YAC for senior year (so the audience could feel like she actually deserved it- instead of just bc she's the MC). -

She would have to reckon with the fact that her going off-script was probably why she wasn't accepted. -

I would've also given Nini more personality, maybe explore her interests outside of school, or her relationship with her moms. Make her have more flaws and have her learn to work through them. -

Nini lands the understudy for a main/secondary role and gets casted as the rose. She ends up helping backstage and works with Ashlyn as a songwriter/composer for the show. -

I'm thinking throughout the season she'll deal with a lot of school pressure, along with relationship problems, and her own stress of trying to make it into YAC and she'll eventually break down from the stress (Gina, Kourtney, and her parents would be there for her) -

her audition could've been in the last episode (making the "second chance" song more meaningful) -

I think Nini being low-key iced out by her friend group for going to YAC was messed up. That was her ambition. -

ALTERNATE IDEA: She could've also transferred to North High instead, making their menkies competition more relavent. Then tranferred back after a while and have to deal with going against her friends. [Idk just most of her personality in the two seasons, even after Ricky and Nini broke up, revolved around Ricky and she didn't get to have a life or personality beyond 1) the musical and 2) the boys in her life]

Ricky

Ricky's arc would be similar to the original. Him having Nini as his lifeline was pretty toxic for the both of them anyway. This time with him having some character development. Maybe having a scene where Nini says something like "I care about you Ricky, I really do. But I can't handle my own problems along with yours. I'm always here if you need to talk, but...maybe you should get some help first. You should talk to your parents." then after a bunch of stuff, Ricky learns to ask for help, and his parents send him to therapy. He apologizes to Nini. [Btw this arc wouldn't be to bash Ricky, but more of have him learn healthy ways of venting and finding help]

He finally talks and works things through with his mom and she and his dad finally realize the emotional toll their problems have caused Ricky

I was thinking about a flashback to Ricky seeing his parents fight all the time but that might be too dark for a Disney show

Ricky wasn't interested in musicals before, so therefore he should, realistically, have to learn to play the piano or guitar (Nini could've taught him)

if the writers wanted him to have acting/singing as his actual passion and not just as something he joined to get Nini back- then we should've had him practicing singing or acting (not for Nini this time) while also doing his old hobbies.

Nini and Ricky

I feel like they missed a really good opportunity to teach the audience how to open up and work through problems when they just decided to make Rini break up over miscommunication.

For a relationship that mentions them as childhood best friends, i wasn't feeling the best friends thing when they were together

If the writers were intending for us to root for Rini, then they should've made Ricky have more redeeming qualities, him doing stuff on Nini's phone was EJ-like which they established in S1 was bad

Consider this as some dialogue Nini and Ricky could've had about their relationship in the treehouse scene: Nini: "I don't even know how I got from loving you so much to not even wanting to fight for this" instead of just stating the obvious of "we've been miss-communicating all year" Ricky could've said something like: Ricky: "I wasn't honest with you. I tried to hide things from you. It feels like we're not even friends anymore." Nini: "We were friends...what happened?" Ricky: "I don't know, what's been going on with my parents has-" Nini: "No, this isn't their fault. It's ours." *a long pause* Nini: "Since we're admitting things we've done wrong. I've got one. I wasn't intending on sharing the rose song with you. I don't know i think i was just- scared it would cause more problems and i...hid a lot of the things i was feeling...about us." Ricky: "Can I ask...what are you feeling... about us? Like... was the song really all about us?"

you get the point- Rini would actually work through their problems instead of constantly having miscommunication problems that were unrealistic given that they were friends since kindergarten

Kourtney

Kourtney should've been given an arc and I would probably cut Howie (i like him but not every girl needs a love interest- if not then Howie shouldn’t have been the only depth she has).

Kourtney could have a fashion internship and we could explore her personality.

Make her more than the bff of Nini- have Nini be the one to reassure and be there for her

healthy feminism that's not just there for tokenism (and not whatever S1 Kourtney was)

Make people be there for her and don't just leave her alone because she's "strong" and "independent" People need help sometimes. Being independent is different to having no one there for you.

Gina

Jack appeared and disappeared- would've probably made him show up once more. And Gina and him wouldn't meet like that- maybe they knew each other from another school (bc normal ppl don't randomly talk to strangers at airports lol) -

I liked Gina's arc overall and would've kept it.

Introduced or at least hinted at Gina's brother more (him calling her but her refusing to answer because it's been so long)

Even if her main plot will revolve around love, Gina would have...well... a life.

Explore her relationship with her mom

explore how traveling all the time has affected her

things like not wanting to get attached bc even tho she has a place to stay, things can change at any moment and she knows that

showing her adapting to new situations really quickly

Her relationship with her brother could've been explored more

More on-screen character development

Building off the arrogant, confident character he was in the first season and still having some of those qualities as the second season progressed

Follow up for him and his dads conversation

Cousin duo with Ashlyn

EJ should've had a storyline outside of Gina being a symbol of his "development,"

He could have talked to Nini about how he was feeling about his future since they both were worried about the same

Gina and EJ

EJ's is a lot more tactful than Ricky and if the writers had wanted for us to root for them more- Ej could've represented what Ricky didn't do. Instead they had him misscomunicate about the big brother thing for shock and drama value and have Gina be the one to clear it up.

Have EJ try to be a good person, not for Gina, but for himself.

Consistent friendship with Gina before it was implied he had a crush

ALTERNATE PLOT IDEA: Instead of having them end up together, have them be more brother/sister and support system. Have EJ learn to be a good person without doing it for someone and rather do it for himself

All in all I would've kept the basic framework of their relationship and just change up a few things

Carlos and Seb

I loved Carlos' arc too (and Seb's).

Have Seb sing more

more screentime alltogether

Ashlyn

I liked them touching on body image issues with Ashlyn but i probably wouldn't have mentioned it once and then never mention it again. I think it should've lasted at least 2/3 episodes.

Ashlyn could've seen a plus size actress in a musical she goes to with Kourtney and Gina (bc that trio is amazing) and feeling a lot more confident but still a little insecure (cuz insecurities don't just disappear with a short monologue)

I'm very anti one-dimensional mean girl so, as part of Lily's redemption, lily would build up Ashlyn a little.

Maybe cut out Big Red/Ashlyn because i see them more as friends (they could still have similar scenes together tho)

have ashlyn and big red break up by spring break- ashlyn won't tell anyone and keep her personal life out of her acting and end up spiraling

completely cut out any french guy jealousy from Big Red (completely unneeded)

Lily

I would've had Lily be more of the 3 dimensional character- i think we should be over the mean girl trope. I'm thinking parental issues/pressures (building off episode 11) and some insecurity or anxiety would be pretty realistic. Maybe she’s sick of constantly being the center of attention and wants some downtime.

If they intend to make Ricky and Lily end up together (or at least have a friendship), I would do it a little differently. In the Ricky section of this post i mentioned Ricky, if acting/singing had become his passion, should've taken up some lessons. What if Lily had ended up being his tutor or something? Maybe he signed up before all the drama and got to know her before.

just think of all the possibilities tho- it would also make the “let you go” song that Ricky does on the piano have some double meaning

Lily stealing the harness makes absolutely no sense plot-wise, so I would also cut that out

Side characters

French dude should've gotten more screentime

Mazzara/Jenn should've been equal pining like in S1- not just mainly one sided

Plot

more episodes, most of the problems and conflicts presented weren't resolved or addressed by the end of the series. Characters, especially the ones in relationships, don't even talk about their problems. And yes, realistically, sometimes people don't talk it out, but most get closure within themselves and problems don't appear and disappear magically. -

maybe change the menkies competition for another competition, something where you can have more creative liberty with the plot and songs -

cut out the dance/sing off, it was completely unneeded

cut out the "come back video" to North High's diss video

cut out the sleepover episode

All these episodes did was provide unneeded drama that could've been used to instead to take a break from the conflict and be more character driven -

Maybe a different musical- BATB was a weird choice for an official competition. If not then different casting

Ej for beast, Ricky for Gaston, seb for candleholder, carlos for clock,

The scenes from the musical should've been included, I felt like there was an episode missing between ep.11 and 12

Every relationship was the exact same- the guy pining to the loosely interested girl and then when they get together the girl having to constantly reassure him about the relationship

Ok, guess they wasted that entire semester just to never open the envelope (they should've opened it because they realized that the Menkies tore them apart and they lost sight of their passion)

a lot of the events, character development, and reactions were off-screen, which made it so annoying to watch bc a lot of those scenes were important to the plot

Disclaimer: Not hating on the writers, directors, or actors of this show. I'm just inputting my own ideas of what I think would've made the show better for me. I kept and cut out some ships i did/didn't like so my personal opinion on the relationships do have an influence

#hsm the series finale #season finale #hsm the series #nini salazar roberts #ricky bowen #ashlyn caswell #gina porter #ej caswell #portwell #kourtney greene #big red #miss jenn #seblos #ricky and nini #big red x ashlyn #Ricky x Lily

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watevermelon · 4 years

Text

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi apologizes to the reader, seeing her genuinely happy without him (MSBY Black Jackals Era) [forgiving/peaceful end]

A/N : Slight spoilers if you aren’t caught up to 392 ;) (reader ends up with our home-boy Konoha) ➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One

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Walking away from Akaashi was one of the hardest things you had ever done in your high school career. He was the picture perfect boyfriend, the one you even wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Everything about him, from his kindness to his charming good-looks, you wanted to wake-up to it every day for the rest of your life.

Until one day, you just didn’t.

And from then on, so much as a thought about Akaashi set your heart aflame, ready to fight the setter with your bare hands. You had your friends to guide you through it all, even Konoha had drawn closer to you in your circle. And with time, it was easier to breathe in the halls of Fukurodani. Some people had pushed for details regarding your separation, especially since Akaashi was suddenly romantically attached to a certain captain, but the setter had adamantly requested for the others to leave you alone.

He had pursued you three times since your break, basically pleading with you to listen from his perspective.

You always said no.

And life moved on. Akaashi became the captain of the Fukurodani Volleyball team, both Konoha and Bokuto graduating to attend college nearby. Yukie, Haruki - all the older faces that you had come to know had finally left the school for good. And while some members of your friend group also graduated, it was bittersweet goodbyes for your worst year of high school.

Time really does heal wounds and you found yourself often forgetting all about the setter that broke your heart.

In high school, everything can feel like the end of the world. Whether it be a low grade, drama within your friend group, or even breaking up with some stupid person you called a boyfriend - it incited that deep curling feeling that just felt like: that was it. The end of the world as you knew it.

And in some ways that was true, but that wasn’t always a bad thing.

Now as a graduate-school senior, you had long accepted that there were still plenty of moments that felt like that. There was always going to be drama somewhere and some absolute sadist of a professor who liked to hand you a new asshole.

And it was not like you were suddenly a pro at handling these feelings. You still had doubts, worries, but this was all pushed back with your own brand of confidence built on the foundation of your earlier teenage years. With your friends, both new and old, you were ready to take on the world.

But first, final exams.

You were basically shut out to your roommates, either sheltering yourself in your room or in the library to get some good studying in. One of them was trying to follow a similar route, but she often got distracted by social media or newly released video games. The other had accepted her faith long ago, joking that the most she studied was during the breaks of the test.

And after having shared a class with her last semester, you found out it was not a joke.

There was only one class that you were particularly worried about and the final was tomorrow night. There were minimal distractions throughout today, even your boyfriend of almost a year was busy with his own classes and so the both of you were cooped up, mutually suffering at different colleges.

It was only until this afternoon, did your focus break, nothing helping what you received today. On your coffee table was a simple letter, but you recognized the hand-writing even after all these years.

It was a personally written invitation to a professional volleyball game, home-court to the MSBY Black Jackals.

Bokuto and Akaashi had invited you.

The moment you received it, you called your boyfriend to see if he got one as well. Apparently, everyone from the old Fukurodani volleyball club got an invite. And, in addition to their crew, you had gotten one as well.

Your boyfriend assured you that if you were not comfortable with going, then that was it. Neither of you would attend. But you smiled at him surely, saying that anything regarding the two was long behind you. That was honestly the case, any memories of Akaashi brought forth a sad numbness, but nothing else. There was nothing you had to say to him, but you didn’t exactly want to hold back your boyfriend from being present at their reunion.

Slapping at your cheeks, you reminded yourself that you needed to focus on studying.

And so a week later, excelling with flying colors on that absolute bastard of a final, you mentally prepared yourself to see Akaashi and Bokuto for the first time in years. There would be no easy way to have that conversation, but with a group this large, you hoped that there would be no one-on-one time with either of them.

Sporting a loose denim jacket and leggings, you tried your best casual look for the night. Pulling it up into a high ponytail, you rushed over to the front of the dorm when the doorbell expectedly rang.

“Hey.” Konoha greeted you warmly, pulling you into a light peck in greeting. You murmured it back against his lips, happy to feel it curl into a smile against your own.

You hadn’t started dating until you were both in a few years into college, having kept in touch long after high school as you both attended schools in Tokyo. You went to the same college as Haruki and that was the silent lifeline between your relationship. From college parties to general hangouts, Haruki was a true bro and Konoha was relentless in his pursuit of your friendship.

It wasn’t like a sudden rush overnight or like the clouds had shifted to rain sunshine down on Konoha. It was simple, you liked Konoha and wanted to go out with him. He was more than just a friendly face or a wielder of cold humor. The previous volleyball player had a genuinely kind-soul that was more than just another person from Fukurodani.

You remembered how easy it was to be genuinely happy with Konoha. It made you want to do the same for him, to put a smile on his face and remind yourself what it was like to truly be needed.

The first time the two of you kissed, it was before you were even officially dating. You two had separated from the cluster of college teens, far away from the bustle of the house-party as you sat on the edge of the property. There was a pool a ways behind you, but you had sat together under a tree together and looked up at the night sky.

The stars weren’t visible from Tokyo, the lights of the city keeping them hidden from view. But that hadn’t stopped the two of you from thinking the sky was beautiful that night, laying back side-by-side as you talked to each other candidly.

“Professor Magnolia puts the mystery in chemistry.” You complained to Konoha.

He chuckled at your awful pun, probably more out of pity than actual amusement, you wondered. Replying back, “You still did pretty well in that class.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, mister 4.0 GPA.” You quipped, a teasing smile on your face that he recognized.

“I could always give you some private lessons.” Konoha joked, but you both knew the suggestive line that was there. He seemed to recognize it and back off immediately, “Unless, of course -”

“I want you to.” You interrupted him.

Yes, you were the more aggressive party when it came to your relationship. At least, at the start. Konoha has been your friend forever. And there was no denying that the young man was plenty attractive and very handsome. But you tended to wonder if he was ever interested in bringing it to another step.

Whenever implications got too serious, or your mutual teasing had lingered a little too long, Konoha would make sure to put a wide berth of space between and the line. You honestly appreciated this very much, since Konoha was aware of your space and never encroached on your friendship. And it was not like he had put a complete damper on your relationship either, openly flirting back with you when you tried.

Instead, Konoha put the ball entirely in your court.

You wanted this? You had to come and get it.

“Are you being serious?” Konoha asked as he sat-up, face serious as he contemplated your last statement.

But you smiled at him as you leaned closer, “Yes.”

He reflected your expression back at you, the both of you rising to stand for whatever reason. Konoha always towered over you, but now you were more aware of that fact as you looped your arms around his neck. You gravitated toward one another, lips meeting in a chaste peck before you deepened the kiss.

But it was not like your relationship depended on you making the first move, no way. Konoha was very attentive to the communication within your relationship. Once you made it clear that you were comfortable, he would make the move you both wanted.

From your first kiss to the first night you shared together, you nearly whipped your bra at him the week before to make sure he got the message.

And he definitely got the message.

Konoha went from your sudden high-school protector to the one you desperately wanted to spend your life with. You would do anything to keep your relationship steady and would feel your heart surge when he would whisper back similar thoughts.

And now here your boyfriend was, picking you up at the dorms before the both of you attended a MSBY Black Jackals game. You honestly never thought that this would happen. Konoha had attended some in the past, along with Haruki and the rest. It was never something that bothered you either, they were his best friends and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

You just never thought you’d be attending one together, at the invitation of your ex-boyfriend no less.

But you continued on anyway, waving goodbye to your roommates and taking Konoha’s hand as he guided you through the bustle of Shibuya. He held your hand tightly and you would squeeze back when you got closer to the arena, the large poster of current volleyball pro’s coming into view.

You had seen lots of images of Bokuto in his professional career. He was basically a household name now, a reliable outside hitter to one of the best Division 1 teams in all of Japan. There were highlights of him on social media and he had even starred in multiple commercials by now.

But the image of Bokuto never really lingered in your mind. He was always a passing thought, like you knew that he existed, but never really registered it that it was true. Seeing a huge poster with many unknown faces except the owl-haired man really brought back this fact.

Scanning your tickets, you were surprised when you were guided to another area. You and Konoha were being guided to a club box, a reserved area for larger groups to mingle together during sports events.

Many of the others during that Fukurodani volleyball club golden age were already present. You had caught up with Yukie in the past year, the nutritionist still as insatiable with food as ever. Haruki was probably the one you were closest to, since the actor and you kept in touch after receiving your undergraduate degrees in college.

He had even called you a few days before, saying that he heard from Konoha that the Akaashi and Bokuto had invited you as well. Your well-intentioned friend suggested doing something to their kneecaps even now, after all these years, but you said it was not necessary.

You had a feeling of why they wanted you here.

It was written out plainly in Akaashi’s letter: to apologize.

That was when you realized that you had never actually received one before. Akaashi was quick with excuses and even more desperate to have you hear his side, but never had the setter actually said the words, ‘I’m sorry,’ over what he had done to you.

And it was not like you need to hear it after all these years. It was something you were long over at this point, not even an issue.

But it made you wonder why now of all times was Akaashi asking to do this.

It was more like, if he needed to say it, then you were patient enough to finally listen.

Konoha said that the moment you needed an out, he would give it. There was already a back-up plan that could be in motion the very second you think it would be necessary. The two boys had made it the night before - Konoha getting a bad call from his family (actually Haruki calling him) and, if need be, he could cry on cue to get you two out of there.

You laughed and called them idiots.

And to your ultimate surprise, neither Akaashi nor Bokuto made an appearance before the game. You were mingling with the group when the announcer started introducing the teams. Those around you were making comments, talking about the young Hinata Shoyou from Miyagi or how the absolute bane-of-their-high-school-existence Sakusa Kiyoomi was now ironically on the same team as Bokuto.

You watched a volleyball game for the first time in seven years. The last game ever being the one before you broke it off with Akaashi. This was different in every way possible - the quick calculate looks of the setter Atsumu Miya. It was nothing like how Akaashi used to look at Bokuto, not how you remembered at least.

And you were actually enraptured in the game, interested eyes watching as the ball launched at high-speeds to each side of the court. At some point, Konoha placed a casual hand across the back of your seat, joking with Haruki that nothing less than food would get your attention.

It was only seven minutes into the first-set that Akaashi made his appearance.

You heard him before you saw him, some of the others greeting him as he strolled in late. In his hands was a box covered by a large plastic bag, apparently an order from Onigiri Miya that ended up taking longer than expected. He greeted everyone individually in his cool, yet quiet voice.

Konoha and you stood together, walking over to greet him with your hands clasped together. Akaashi greeted the both of you warmly, a half-smile at you before his eyes dropped to your hands. There was no hiding the length of his gaze before he was called to the side by someone else, thanking him for the invitation.

It was strange and felt like anything but normal, but at least this wasn’t the catastrophe you were somewhat expecting.

Akaashi turned to the both of you once his attention was freed, “Thank you both for coming. Let’s continue this later after the game, once Kōtarō is free as well.”

You nodded, mustering the best neutral smile you could. Konoha did the same before you made your way back to the seats. Akaashi continued to mingle with the others from high school, never taking a seat and standing watch over the game. One thing that hadn’t changed since your teen days was how much Bokuto stood out, on the court and just simply in person.

While you would’ve liked to have shouted or yelled at either boy at the time, you did not hold any malicious intent after. Never had you thought of outing them to the school or ruining their reputations. Life was hard enough with high-school drama, this was not something you wanted to draw out.

Once it was all said and done, you just wanted to move on.

And seeing Bokuto did not bring back a sudden surge of unhappiness or fight in you. Rather, you felt a small drop of happiness that he was pursuing his dream. But that was quickly squashed down when you remembered the last time you saw him on a volleyball court.

Konoha held your hand the whole way through, you could feel his gaze in the corner of your peripheral. It was sweet, he was making sure that you were truly okay with this, not just saying that you were. Haruki teased that the two of you were too disgustingly cute, to which Konoha just lifted your joined hands and placed a light peck to the side of your head.

You felt Akaashi’s eyes on you then.

You begged yourself not to look, there was nothing in the world that could ever excuse what he did to you. You told yourself that you were over this, that this toxic feeling would not engulf you back then and certainly not now. There was nothing that would grant him mercy.

You looked anyway.

His bright blue eyes were looking right at you. There was no pretend smile this time, no mask he could put on in time to show that he was as neutral as he was before. Instead, you knew what was crawling at the edges of his expression - sadness, jealous, regret.

It was only when you shared eye-contact that it lit your nerves aflame. He was openly staring back, his eyes almost pleading with you to say something. The look made you tighten your hold in Konoha’s hand. You were filling with something from the pit of your stomach. Not with hurt, but more like worry. Why would Akaashi and Bokuto even invite you here if he was still lingering on those feelings?

You had to wrestle your gaze away, turning back to the gaze and leaning further into Konoha. He wrapped a lazy arm around your shoulder, pulling you and steadying you toward him. You were able to remind yourself that, this time, you were definitely not alone. Even though Akaashi was still looking at you, you refused to turn back and it was only when Konoha turned did you wonder what was going on.

You watched your boyfriend turn to Akaashi and wave, shooting a kind smile which served as a placating look of feigned obliviousness, before lightly kissing the side of your head.

Akaashi turned away then.

You smiled to yourself, thinking no one else had seen the interaction. But Konoha knew you well and even playfully called you out in a low voice, “Oh? You liked that?”

“What? I can’t appreciate my own knight in shining armor?” You teased back, earning you a teasing pinch to your side.

“We’re here for a couple more hours, try not to seduce me any further.”

“Wha!” You contested as he flicked your forehead, “I was not.”

But Konoha just smirked at you, a fond expression on his face before turning back to the game. “You’re cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

You felt your cheeks flush, this was hardly the first time that he had said something like this. But somehow it always lit your cheeks aflame anyway.

The rest of the game went by very quickly, with your attention distracted to your boyfriend on your right. It was the simple things that you found so attractive - even so much as the small veins protruding in his arms when he flexed.

It was hot, ngl.

When the game ended, you were bracing yourself for something. Bokuto made his way to the reserved box, his loud voice above the crowd as many moved forward to greet him. You waited to the side, only moving when there was space to actually get a word in.

“(L/N)-san.” Bokuto greeted back, “I’m glad you came.”

He gave Konoha a high-five that progressed into a side-hug, boys. Somehow they had this handshake that you had never really seen before between the two.

“We hope to move this reunion back to our apartment.” Akaashi announced, many of the group agreed since it was a night before the weekend and no work the next day. They filled out individually, the rambunctious group loud against the cold walls. Haruki and Yukie lingered, you were sure since it was because you were still there.

You looked toward Konoha, there was no doubt that he would want to join in with his old-friends. Not that you really minded, it was just that now it was going to be taking place in the shared home of the two people who cheated on you. Were you mentally prepared to sit in a place that showcased all of their memories?

With the box emptying out, Akaashi approached the two of you first, “This may be the only semblance of quiet we have for the night.”

“Yeah.” You replied dumbly, unsure what to say. Konoha did not let go of your hand.

Yukie edged out of the room, but held-up a cell-phone motion as if she would call you to give you an out if needed. Haruki followed, but their pace was slow and their footsteps halted outside the door. They were probably going to wait, but just gave you your privacy. Bokuto was leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for the three of you.

“This has been drawn out for too long.” Akaashi continued once the door closed behind them, “I wanted to apologize for everything I did to you.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t deserve it.” He stated, his kind-eyes now reflecting determination toward you, “I’ve long realized how selfish I was, trying to have both of your feelings. And it made me ashamed to think that I had never even properly apologized to you. I was so eager to speak, but never the right thing back then.”

You smiled, but said nothing. Not that you were unhappy, just overwhelmed with how earnest his apology was. You hadn’t expected Akaashi to be so genuinely repentant.

“You deserve all the happiness I could never give you and more.” Akaashi continued, his eyes lifting toward Konoha before dropping back to you. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Accepted.” You replied with an uneven smile, out-stretching a hand for him to take. Akaashi jumped at the chance, eagerly shaking your hand before shooting a grin back at you.

“Hey! Hey!” Bokuto started as he clapped a hand on Akaashi’s back, “And I’m sorry for keeping it a secret also, but...”

“But you loved him.” You finished for him. There was a time you wanted to step on Bokuto’s neck, but now you just felt nothing but understanding.

“That was a pretty dick move of me.” Bokuto continued.

“No hard feelings.” You replied back, earning a playful slap on the back from the wing-spiker that definitely hurt more than it was meant to.

“You were always the nicest one, (L/N)!” He said with a smile before turning to Konoha, “You’ve got a real catch here.”

Konoha smiled as he moved his hand to your waist and squeezed, “And I’ll never let her go.”

You gave him a similar smile, looking up at your boyfriend at feeling a fondness settle in your stomach over his kind yet protective nature. He looked down at you and couldn’t stop himself from lightly pecking you on the lips at that moment.

Bokuto let out a playful bristle and Akaashi shot you another one of his wistful smiles, but that was the least of your worries.

It had been a long time since you put those high-school days behind you. But there was a certain happiness, a content feeling inside you that had suddenly fostered at hearing his apology. You were more than ready to move onto your future, this toxic memory nothing but a stepping stone from your past.

➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One

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anthonyed · 4 years

Note

buckytony for “it’s cold, you should wear my jacket”? only if you’re still taking prompts !

Thank you for requesting, Ava! I hope you like this:) (from this list)

-//-

Bucky Barnes loves people.

He genuinely loves them; the way they interact, the way they act and react and all of their emotions especially their unsurmountable passion – Witnessing that in itself can be electrifying.

Secretly, Bucky wishes he could taste that much passion at least once.

Subconsciously, he seeks them out in people he’s around – Hoping even if it’s not his own, at least, someone would be kind enough to share theirs.

When he first tries to acclimatize to the ecosystem in the Avengers tower, he sticks a lot with Bruce because Bruce oozes tranquillity.

Bruce has weekly tea dates with Natasha, whom Bucky kinda remembers but also kinda doesn't. But since he's leaving all those memories behind and moving on, he doesn't wallow into that part of his past too much.

He joins them on their tea dates. Natasha later invites him for Yoga sessions and once Bucky is confident enough to be alone with her, he joins her.

They practice various poses for hours and at the end of each session, Bruce will pop in to lead them through meditation. Which is all good; a reliable system in the building if you ask for Bucky’s opinion.

But Natasha occasionally goes on missions and Bruce on some personal trips; sometimes both of their trips coincide and Bucky's left fending for himself.

These are the times when he pops out of his room, feet padding in the direction of boisterous laughter which comes from Sam Wilson and Clint Barton; resident's children.

They teach him how to play video games and curse in 21st century slang. He learns slurs and cuss words which he then practices on Steve for personal entertainment.

There's also Miss Potts who flutters in and out of their life like a hummingbird.

Bucky first meets her on an early Monday morning; sitting alone at the communal kitchen table talking to herself (which he later learns was to an earpiece).

She's thoughtful in a way that nobody else is.

She loudly complains about Tony Stark while jabbing at the coffee machine pointedly, making sure Bucky could see what she is doing - And he realises half-way through that she is teaching him how to operate the machinery without being obvious about it.

She's lovely; Bucky likes her very much.

He also likes Jim Rhodes, who is worse than Miss Hummingbird.

Who visits during the Memorial Day, gets stupid drunk trying to out drink Stevie then uses Bucky as his beanpole for the entire afternoon recounting all of his favourite military tales until he passes out.

Bucky doesn't mind; Colonel Rhodes smells nice under all the alcohol and he makes very funny jokes.

There’s also the fact that Tony Stark loves him very loudly and proudly.

Like Stevie, he thinks; Tony Stark is Colonel Rhodes’ Stevie (Or maybe it’s the other way around, Bucky needs more time to figure that one out.)

Harold 'Happy' Hogan catches Bucky stepping out of the tower one night and offers to drive him in one of Stark's long weiner cars. When Bucky says no thanks, he crooks a finger and shows him where the motorbikes are.

"Are you sure...?"

"As long as you don't crash," Happy tosses a set of keys and Bucky accepts it, reluctantly.

But the ride he gets that evening is both soul-shifting and addictive, and he feels more reluctant returning the key when it ends.

“Never mind,” Happy tells him, “These are accessible any time, just ask JARVIS for them.”

And Bucky thinks Happy is cool that way. So, when he's coming home from long rides then on, Bucky makes sure to grab burgers with extra fries for him. Happy likes them curly; Bucky remembers that too for him,

Bucky meets Tony Stark on the battle-field for the first time. Static, machine-modulated voice tells him to watch his "sexy six" and Bucky blushes three shades darker under the afternoon Sun.

Later, after long countless observations, Bucky learns Tony Stark flirts like he breathes; no intentions what-so-ever beneath his wicked tongue.

But Bucky's got a heart too tender just blooming out of ash like baby phoenix and he couldn't help but get deeply affected by each one of those passes Tony throws at him.

He blushes like a red rose in July; warm and pretty and everyone notices the weakened state of his knees.

From Bruce to Natasha to Stevie, Sam and Clint. Hell, even Happy and Miss Potts could see past his breastbone where his heart flutters out of control when Tony Stark is around.

Come Halloween, Colonel Rhodes passes through; staying for one night and in the span of less than five hours he's been around, he corners Bucky in the kitchen and asks him what his intentions are.

Bucky stutters through his response; even apologizes for his over-reaction to Tony Stark's meaningless flirtation.

But Jim Rhodes cocks his head right and squeezes his arm. He says if there is anyone he'd trust to make his Tony happy, then it would be: "You, Sergeant Barnes"

Colonel Rhodes flies early on November 1st, but his words stick long and hard in Bucky's brain for weeks on end.

Then one day, an idea strikes him.

He rolls out of the bed with a sense of urgency; sending texts to both Bruce and Tasha, apologizing for not being able to make it to today's tea session and he hops into the elevator; pulling his shoes on, one after another.

"The workshop please, Mister JARVIS," he requests.

He knows Tony's in. Heard him talking to Miss Potts this morning about clearing out his schedule and Bucky hopes with all of his beating heart that his plan wouldn't face any rejection from Tony.

Stepping into the shop, breathless from all the emotions boiling in his chest, Bucky blurts out: "Come out with me."

Tony stark; stunned behind his protective eyewear, arms bare through his singlet, drops the welding torch he's been manning with a loud clang.

"Now?" he asks.

Not 'Are you kidding me?' or 'No fucking way'; but, 'Now?' he asks while wiping his fingers on a cloth, looking ready to follow like he’s been waiting for Bucky to come around since ages ago.

Bucky grins at him. "Yeah," he nods, "It’s cold, you should wear my jacket." He tosses the extra pair he'd grabbed from his closet and Tony catches it with an ease and an amused grin.

“Your jacket, Sergeant? I could swoon.”

“Good,” Bucky says, watching him pull it on. “I was hoping you would.”

Ten minutes later, they're speeding on the freeway on one of Tony's bikes; late Autumn breeze licking where their skins are uncovered, and it's freezing cold. But Bucky could only taste the warmth from Tony’s body plastered against him; his arms, tight and securely locked around his midriff. Like bursts of sunlight in a snow-storm.

They stop for dinner at one of the diners Bucky had been to twice before - could vouch for their food - and he's more than glad when Tony wipes his plate clean with the last fry.

When he packs for Happy like he usually does, Tony watches him with a curious kind of softness in his brown eyes; so, Bucky shares their little story with him.

On their way back home, they pull over at the side of the freeway that’s shaving the top of a small hill overlooking a neighbourhood and it’s guarded by a long silver railing which Tony hops over; waits for Bucky to follow with his hand out-reached for taking.

Bucky grabs it; clutches onto like a lifeline, at the same time, a fragile china, and they shuffle down the grassy slope; mouths split in wide grins, chuckles bursting out of seams and when Tony comes to a stop somewhere in the middle, Bucky does too.

"It's not always you get to see stars," Tony says, fingers tangled with Bucky’s like he wants to be and he's beautiful; eyes cast skyward, wonder glimmering in their warmth, lips curved in a soft angle -

He looks like the star itself has descended to earth; burning bright before Bucky's eyes and - Jesus Roosevelt Christ. What kind of heaven is that? Bestowed on Bucky, like a blessing beyond any worth and he doesn't know what to do with himself right then.

You leave me breathless: he longs to say. You make me feel blessed beyond what I deserve, make me feel more than I know I ever could and it would be my goddamn honour to love you, I swear - Would be my Goddamn fucking honour to love you, sweetheart.

But he doesn't say all that; would have choked on his tongue before he could even manage half of them out, so he swallows his spit and watches Tony watch the stars until his swollen heart explodes into confetti rain in its cage and -

And then, Bucky breathes; inhales lungs full of cold air prickling like icicles throughout his chest – shuddering, and when Tony looks down from the night sky at him, Bucky cups his jaw with trembling fingers and strokes his cheek with a thumb.

"You drive me insane," he tells him. "But you also keep me sane.”

“You’re like Bruce with his tea and Tasha with her Yoga. You’re what Sam and Clint describe how they feel when they play video games, or how Stevie says drawing makes him feel. You make my heart hop a mile like a bunny rabbit but also soothe me like balm, and if that’s how it feels to be passionate in life, then you’re my reason why.”

The stars blink up in the sky, the sound of the traffic along with the bone chilling November breeze witness Bucky empty his soul for Tony to take in the middle of a hill slope, somewhere upstate.

But Tony, he's silent; for the first time since Bucky had known him, he's holding his tongue. And Bucky wishes he doesn't.

Wishes, he would say something; anything at all. Or he would smile, or grin, and let Bucky taste passion for the first time from his tongue - One that is his own for a change, not someone else's.

But neither happens; nothing happens.

Tony doesn't say a word or show any signs of either acceptance or rejection; even if his breath catches in a sharp inhale exactly one time and he presses his hand over Bucky’s on his face.

But neither could count in the face of how violently Bucky had cleaved his gut open for Tony that night.

They get on the road again soon after and Bucky's skin starts to itch from growing worries; wondering if he’d crossed a fine line between them because Tony's silence is eating him alive.

He stays pressed close to Bucky’s back for their entire ride home; hands locked tight over Bucky’s midriff and somewhere in the middle, Bucky feels the heat of Tony's cheek through his leather jacket; pressed between his shoulder blades, injecting trickles of hope into his spine.

When they reach the city and later the tower; when Bucky pulls into the garage and turns off the engine, neither of them gets off the bike.

For Bucky, he pretends the journey's still not over so he could savour the warmth plastered onto his back just a little while longer.

As for Tony, Bucky finds out why he’s staying when the locked arms around his waist breaks and one of the hands wander upwards; coming to rest over where Bucky’s heart trips and races; the prickling sensation along his nape doubling and he stops breathing all at once.

When he does inhale, his spine bones shudder from the forceful way he sucks in a breath. Evidently feeling the tremor, Tony chuckles close to his ear and tells him to, “Take it easy, James. I’m trying to feel if you’ve told me the truth, or made up a beautiful lie.”

A giddy exhale escapes Bucky’s chest in a soft puff air. Feeling suddenly bold just from that statement, he leans back into Tony’s hold and presses his own hand on top of his.

And he savours the silence along with the sweet scent of Tony tinged with metal and grease, and Bucky could swear, he feels Tony’s heartbeat through the layers of their clothes. From behind their ribs and flesh and through their lungs, and it feels like the meat of their hearts have merged into one; singing to the same symphony in the womb of their home.

Later, once the tune has sunk into his marrow, Bucky quietly asks, “What’s the verdict, sweetheart?”

Their hands still lay, combined over Bucky’s chest and it’s heaven to be this close with someone you ache for – Bucky knows. He never forgets to count his blessings these days; he just hopes that this one never finds its end at all.

If he could whisper a wish into the air, he’d ask God to let them stay this way forever. But this goes both ways, and Bucky may be selfish but he’s not entirely cruel; he wouldn’t subject Tony to what he doesn’t want.

So, he gives him another out; prods, “Am I a liar or am I not?”, when Tony doesn’t answer him the first time around.

But Tony seems to desire what Bucky wants – Which. What a miracle is that?

He says, “Shh, James Barnes. Let’s just stay like this longer,” and Bucky’s poor heart, in all of its new born tenderness; speckles of ash still present from when it was reborn like a phoenix - Finally, finds its wings and soars high.

#buckytony #winteriron #mine #*fingers crossed* i hope you like this #thank you for the help may #prompts

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our-heroes-rise · 4 years

Text

slip of the tongue

pairing: todoroki x bilingual! reader

request: Hi, I want to request a scenario for Todoroki. It’s about a reader who is actually his gf, but she talks portuguese as maternal language. When she got nervous, she start to panic in Portuguese, and she’s nervous to meet Shoto’s mom. How he will help her( something like that). I hope you like this idea. 🇧🇷🇧🇷✌🏻✌🏻

hero name: @todoroki-vivian

a/n: hi, lovely! omg yes, you can aboslutely have a todoroki request, i adore this boy. and i loved this idea so much! it was so darn cute. as someone of mixed race who grew up with a heavily hispanic family i think it’s always fun to imagine bringing home one of the bnha boys/girls. seeing how they’d react to be introduced to the sort of music, food, and p a r t i e s that i grew up with. i’d be completely useless teaching them any g o o d spanish though cause my mother never taught me when i was a kid :’). i only know a couple of phrases and the bad words lol. i don’t touch on any of that here because i’m not too familiar with portuguese culture and i don’t want to offend anyone by getting something wrong because i am uneducated on the subjectttt. there’s only like two words of real portuguese in here and they are from google translate because i wasn’t sure what the difference was between the spanish pronunciation and the portuguese pronunciation. OKAY after that whole thing i hope you enjoy this little scenario, i had a lot of fun writing it and it was super duper cute. thanks for requesting baby hero!

word count: 1,717

warnings: none! this is all fluff :)

Your knee bounced with the subtle rocking of the train cart, heel occasionally tapping against the floor when the wheels ran over a bump in the tracks. No matter how hard you tried, no amount of slow deep breaths or mental reminders that everything would be fine, it would go well, would calm the ever growing bundle of nerves buzzing within the pit of your stomach. It crawled beneath your skin, flinching at the tips of your fingers which picked at the worn plastic seal of your seat, pinched at your bottom lip.

You watched the blur of winter barren trees whirl past the window, not really watching at all, thinking of every way not to mess up this very important day. This very, very important day on which absolutely nothing could go wrong because this was - it was his -

A comforting warmth pressed into your shoulder, calloused fingers wiggling their way through the gaps between yours, bringing a halt to your incessant fidgeting. Striking blue and grey find your gaze, softened by the unspoken question of concern knotting his brows.

What’s wrong?

“I’m just - It’s dumb, really,” you laugh softly, able to recognize how terribly ridiculous you would sound now that the words sit at the front of your mind. “I’m just overthinking things. I’m okay.” For extra reassurance, you give his hand a small squeeze, offering a smile.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You’re not okay if something’s worrying you,” Todoroki says, head dipping to catch your eyes as you try to look away to hide your apprehension. “It might help if you talk about it.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth once again, a soft sigh blows through nose, and you lean further into his shoulder, grateful for the gentle heat that bleeds through your jacket sleeve, soothing your nerves. You drop your attention to the spot where your fingers are now intertwined sitting atop his thigh, his thumb tracing over the ridges of your knuckles, saying he’s content to wait for as long as you need.

Well, at least until the arrival of your last stop where you would inevitably have to step off the train and face the anxiety tearing through your head.

It’ll be fine, stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine, it will be fine, it will be -

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You blurt suddenly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as the eyes of a few curious strangers flicker over to you. Your face sinks further into the protective cocoon of your scarf.

His thumb pauses briefly before picking up its mindless pattern again. “What do you - ?”

“I - I mean, what if I say something wrong and end up sounding really stupid in front of her.” And the dam came crumbling down. “Your mother. The - like - the most important person in your life! I’d end up making a fool of myself in front of the most important person in your life. Then she might think ‘what’s Shoto even see in her? he could do so much better’. Which, you could, by the way. You could do worlds better but you’ve settled for me and sometimes I don’t really get it because - well - I’m me - “

“I don’t see a problem with that. I like you for you and if you are what settling is then I will gladly never settle anywhere else.”

“But what if she - “ your fingers tighten around him at the thought “- what if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you? What if she thinks we should break up because she thinks I’m rude and annoying and uneducated?”

“Uhm. . . Y/n.”

“What if she thinks I’m a bad influence on you? I don’t want to make her hate me forever, that would be the worst feeling ever because I know she means so much to you.”

“Y/n. . .”

“That would just put so much strain on our relationship and I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about what happened, ever. You don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than that, Sho. I just - “

“Meu Amor.”

The name strikes a chord in your throat, catching you breathless, butterflies swooping in to replace the recoiling knot in your stomach. You whip your head around to find the corners of Todoroki’s lips pulling up in a small fond smile, eyes light with amusement. To begin with, Todoroki wasn’t big on pet names, preferring to use your given name, claiming it was sweeter than any silly nickname could be. Though throughout the seven and a half months you two had been together, he had referred to you with the occasional ‘love’ or ‘hon’. However, the number of times he had used that name could be counted on one hand.

Three. It was three times including right now.

He asked you how to say it while you were teaching him random phrases, goofing around in the middle of what was supposed to be a study session, the question being enough to make your face burn. His pronunciation had been rocky the first time, mouth working awkwardly around the words, throwing you into a fit of flustered giggles that had him pouting adorably at you, mumbling not to make fun of him for trying. But, now? Now his near perfect pronunciation left you wondering how many times he had practiced by himself.

Meu Amor was the Portuguese phrase for My Love. His love. His love.

“Y-Yeah?” It’s at that very moment that realize you have slipped out of your usual Japanese tongue, rolling through the tumbling hill syllables of your maternal language. “Oh, s-sorry. I. . . I did the thing again,” you mutter, flipping back to Japanese.

Todoroki huffs a short laugh that makes your heart flutter pleasantly as the sound reverberates through your own chest. “It’s okay, I think I got the gist of what you were saying. It’s cute when you do that, anyway.” He says the last part softly, meant for himself. You press your cheeks further into your scarf, hiding your own shy smile.

Todoroki takes a minute to speak, gazing at the same window you were just a moment ago, lost in thought.

“Y/n,” he finally says. “Meu Amor, -” four times “- frankly, my mother could care less about who you are. I think you could introduce yourself as a high school drop out with a criminal record and her main concern would still be; do we make each other happy? Do you make me happy.”

You allow yourself to absorb the impact of his words.

“And. . . I make you happy?”

He shoots you an incredulous glance, then snorts when he sees you peaking earnestly above the edge of your scarf. “Irrevocably so. Do I make you happy?”

“It’s impossible for me to think about you without smiling.” You give him a bright cheeky grin when his cheeks flare with a noticeable shade of scarlet that crawls all the way up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Good. Then that’s more than enough.” He squeezes your hand, pulling you closer into his side. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she won’t absolutely adore you the same way I do once she meets you. If she doesn’t already, of course.”

The statement piques your curiosity and you arch one brow at him. “What do you mean if she doesn’t already? Have you. . . Told her about me already -- In your letters to her?”

“I thought you already knew that,” Todoroki says, frowning in confusion. “She’s always asking about you and how you’re doing. I was pretty sure I mentioned it before.”

“What the heck? Shoto you’ve never told me that!”

“Oh.”

“So - So then she’s okay with us being together?”

“I think she’s more than okay with it,” he replies, his quiet smile returning. “It’s possible that she’s more excited than I am for you to meet her, which would be saying something.”

“That would have been nice to know before I rambled off the entire Portuguese dictionary to the whole train,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to suppress another laugh. And you really can’t stay upset with him for long.

Rough fingertips push gently at the tips of yours to splay your palm out over his, pressing them together. Lightly you run your nails down the long runs of his fingers, memorizing every bump, scratch, and scar, sweeping your forefinger along the wrinkle of his lifeline, then across his heart line. This - the way you were touching him - may not seem like much at all to anyone else, but it was worth worlds to you. It had taken Todoroki months to comfortably hold your hand, even longer while in public, then some to kiss you for the first time. PDA wasn’t what bothered him (not entirely, at least), it was the displays of affection part. Because of the way he grew up, physical affection was a foreign concept, often leaving him lost and a mess of rigid limbs and awkward apologies. But now, he could easily seek your hand in the middle of a crowded train, or wrap his arm around you in the common room, or press a kiss to the top of your head before the start of class. To know that he had made an effort to open himself up to you, allowing you to see this side of him, the side he had only shared with his mother before, made your heart melt and your eyes swim.

Shoto was right, this was more than enough.

A calm voice announces the arrival of your stop and you two stand as passengers begin to climb off the train.

“Still nervous?” Todoroki asks, threading his fingers through yours once more now that you have both stepped into the morning rush, not wanting to lose you amongst the chaos.

Letting him guide you through the thick crowd, you smile softly, raising your conjoined hands to press your lips to the back of his.

This would always be more than enough.

“No, I think I’ll be okay now.”

#todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha todoroki

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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Speak No Evil (Part 39) - Story 2

Her motions are done with machine-like absence; fold, stack, fold, stack...until there are several outfits on the pile. It feel so hollow and pointless. And every now and again she pauses. She isn’t sure why she pauses, she just doesn’t have the energy to toss another thing into her pack. And so she just stares until Seicho begins picking up items for her and she remembers to do it herself. And when the pack is finally full it rests heavy on her shoulders like every other burden she has ever carried. It feels crushing.

“All set?” Zuko pops his head in.

Azula only nods. There is only one thing missing from her checklist. Only one person…

She thinks that she is too tired to endure this trip.

“You aren’t doing very well, are you.” Seicho mumbles. It sounds as though she knew that this would happen. That she knew that speaking with TyLee would send her down another spiral. She wants to say that Seicho is just jealous, but really she is being realistic.

‘I haven’t done well in a very long time.’ She thinks that she should just start getting used to it. Should just stop fighting it and embrace the sadness. She’ll stay alive and weather the hurt to spare Seicho and Zuko from it. But she isn’t sure that she’ll actually be doing much living while she is alive. She is a spirit herself, she thinks, but without the sort of majestic and mystifying presence that the authentic ones have.

She doesn’t think that she can do this but everyone is already packed… She thinks that it would help to talk about it. She can’t talk. She can’t heal. She…

“Sorry I’m late, I had to find some of my supplies! I wasn’t sure which ones would be useful.”

“We’re not mountain climbing, TyLee.” Mai mutters. “You didn’t have to bring all of that.”

Azula’s stomach flutters, little tickles of hope that she really can’t afford to have. She tightens her grip on her pack. Seicho is beaming, “looks like she decided to give you a chance!”

It means nothing; Azula is good at ruining those.

.oOo.

Setting foot in that jungle once more feels like calling death to herself. And maybe that would be the merciful outcome. The silence around them is so terribly thick. Even the jungle itself seems silent. But she sees those sprits, wispy and glowing peeking their little hands out from.behind leaves and branches. She can sense their collective distaste as vividly as she can feel Mai's resentment and TyLee's solemn reluctance. Sidddh she feels out of place on her own mission.

There is a part of her that should like to take Seicho's hand and let the woman coo.little words of comfort at her as she had during their hike. But she doesn't want the woman to get the wrong idea neither does she want TyLee to think that she has found herself an unsuspecting rebound. But the way the spirits leer at her had her on edge. She wonders when they will drop their passiveness and begin outright antagonizing her.

For the time being, the primary source of her torment comes from within. TyLee walks beside her and she can't come up with anything adequate to initiate conversation. She supposes that it is hard to write and walk anyhow. She finds herself walking over to Seicho the deeper they trek as though the woman could do anything at all should the spirits lash out.

Her throat is dry and there is a full ache in her belly. She thinks that they must have walked for at least an hour or two now. And she is damn near certain that it didn't take much longer than this to come by the spirit the first time. Bit then again, she had coaxed it to come to her.

"Can we take a break?" TyLee asks.

Azula finds herself a place to sit before any protest can arise.she beckons to TyLee and pats the spot next to her. She holds up a few squares of granola. Reluctantly TyLee takes the spot next to her and a single square. But TyLee doesn't look at her while she munches away. It is as though she had only taken the seat because it was slightly more preferable to sitting on the ground.

Azula scribble upon the parchment, 'are you doing well.'

"I'm fine, Azula." She answers in a sigh that indicates anything but content.

'You sound unhappy.'

"I'm fine, I promise."

She thinks that TyLee just doesn't want to admit that she is uncomfortable being so close to her.

"Are you alright?"

'I would be better if I weren't waiting for one of these spirits to pounce…' and if she weren't waiting for the rest of the group to give up on her and write her off as a lost cause. Surely if one trip wasn't enough to do it for Seicho, this second one will be. Azula thinks that soon her the colors will bleed through and they are all so muted and ugly. Nothing like the vibrancy of Seicho's and Zuko's nor the kind pastels of TyLee's. For all of the resentment between them, she and Mai seem to have a lot in common.

"I'm sure that they won't hurt you, they would have by now if they wanted to, right?"

Azula shrugs, frankly she thinks that they are simply waiting for the right moment to strike--likely when she is already on the cusp of breaking is when they will. It instills a deep dread within her.

.oOo.

She can tell that Azula is hurting quite terribly. That just being in this jungle has her uneasy. Her face is as blank as ever but she still knows the princess well enough to realize that she is anything but okay. That she is trying to hold a gaping wound with just a bandaid and her fingers. She isn't sure how much longer Azula can bleed before she collapses. She thinks of giving her a break, and extending her a lifeline.

But if she gives Azula even a small inch, the woman tends to milk it for all it's worth and then some. It would be an invitation for the woman to push her around again. For the first time and with a queasy stomach she ignores that dreary aura. She does nothing to take the sting away.

'i think that they're waiting for the right moment.' Azula replies.

And they aren't the only ones; she too is waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the right moment to forgive the princess, but she suddenly isn't so sure if she can.

'Will you walk with Seicho and I?'

"Zuko and I were a good team. I just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay."

Azula nods. 'Im fine.' TyLee hadn't realized that a person could sense lies in the handwriting of another until then. Maybe it is the lighthandedness of the scrawl or the way she drags out the last letters of each word. But she knows that Azula is not alright at all. That she is going passive and numb, maybe she has been that way for a while now.

Throughout the day, Azula makes several more attempt to communicate, mostly she speaks of mundane or petty things. Things like how it is good that the canopy gives the shade or how this hike is more comfortable than her last one since they are more adequately prepared.

But she never brings up the things that matter. She hasn't even apologized, TyLee realizes. Apparently, even so low, Azula is still too good to apologized beyond a very hollow and pointless, 'sorry' if even. And TyLee realizes that she is angry. Even Mai had offered an apology.

Azula can scribble down as much friendly conversation be as she wants but it means nothing without an acknowledgement of wrongdoing.

TyLee decided that she needs to be angry. She can't be chipper and bubbly all the time. She thinks that she should express her anger more freely. She can't just let this go and pretend like nothing is wrong simply because Azula is acting demure. "You need to stop." She manages to say. "You and Mai both."

'Stop what?'

"Acting like we can just pick up where we left off just because I agreed to come with you."

.oOo.

It is as though TyLee’s word had been permission or maybe it is as simple as them feasting upon her pessimism. The spirits have finally begun to toy with her. And she thinks that they may only be showing themselves to her because no one seems to take notice of the way they pester her.

Mostly they are just annoying; they laugh at her, they sneer at her, they remind her that TyLee doesn’t like her. Sometimes they make off as if they are going to bite or scratch her but they pull back at the very last moment leaving her in a constant state of alertness when she is already agitated as it is.

And Seicho… Her usually endearing chatter is migraine inducing when Azula only wants to be left alone. No, that isn’t right. It is migraine inducing when she only wants to hear TyLee’s voice. The woman hadn’t told her to stop speaking with her but she can take a hint. Unlike Seicho.

“And I thought that it was pretty cool.” She babbles on. “So I wanted to make one sort of like it…” Azula doesn’t even know what she is talking about. She is certain that Mai and Zuko have tuned her out too. But not TyLee. TyLee seems absolutely enthralled by her. Enthralled and amused and delighted...

She clutches her parchment tightly. Heavy-handedly, she had scrawled upon it, ‘will you shut your mouth for five minutes?’

Seicho’s face falls. “I thought that you liked my stories?”

‘I don’t. They’re annoying.’ Azula writes, she nearly trips over a fallen branch in the process, her anger only heightens and then heightens some more at the giggling of the spirits.

“Don’t be mean to her.” TyLee snaps. “She’s just trying to be nice to you.”

TyLee has only ever tried to be nice to her. TyLee, TyLee, TyLee...everything is TyLee and she is beginning to wonder if she only wants TyLee because she can’t have her. But she doesn’t think that the woman’s chastising and spurning would hurt as terribly if she didn’t love her dearly.

Genuine or not, she doesn’t think that it is healthy to think about one person so much. To let her happiness and will to live hinge on a single person. She doesn’t think that it was always like this. She wasn’t always like this?

Why is she like this now?

She picks up her pace, though she doesn’t exactly know where she is headed, she only has a vague sense of where she’d first encountered the spirit and a pressing need to put distance between she and the rest of her party. Nevermind that she is significantly easier for the spirits to harass now.

If TyLee wants Seicho she can have her and Zuko can have Mai and she can be as alone as she ever was.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #TyLee #TyZula #Fanfiction

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muthaz-rapapa · 5 years

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StarPre Ep 13: Culture Shock & “Fitting In”

Ok, I’ve only ever studied abroad for one summer semester so I can’t claim to know what it’s like to be a foreign exchange student.

But WOW did it not feel that this episode portrayed the realism of that experience in spades (for me, anyways).

Which is why in spite of it being another filler, ep 13 shot itself up the ladder to become, perhaps, one of the best episodes in the season so far.

But before we get into that, I just want to say this. Though we have four lovely protagonists to drive the plot forward, it’s pretty clear that the heart of StarPre’s overall story lies with Lala and not the lead Cure, Hikaru. Lala is the actual main character here (heck, even her personal motif is a heart so take that how you will).

Much like how MahoPre focused on Riko gradually letting go of her self-limitations and opening her mind to the world, Lala is slowly learning to release her constant grip on the AI and look for something that data cannot give her.

Hikaru and Mirai may be responsible for building the bridges, extending their hands and establishing the connections between the different worlds of their respective seasons (which is JUST AS IMPORTANT and don’t you let anyone else tell you otherwise!) but Riko and now, Lala, are the ones who demonstrate the necessity of meeting them halfway, however hard it may be at first, in order to gain true understanding.

So, with that said...

Lala’s first day at school. She’s very excited and of course she is!

Back on her home planet Saaman, she didn’t have school. The AI is the go-to for everything. So she’s never known what it’s like to interact with other kids her age, attend classes together, study together, etc.

It’s totally brand new to her and she wants that. She wants to know what life is like for Hikaru, Elena and Madoka. She wants to be a part of that life because that’s where her friends are.

And in their lives, they don’t have AIs to aid them throughout the day so Lala decides she wouldn’t need hers either.

Lala didn’t realize it at the time but the fact that she chose to leave her AI glove at home spoke volumes of her willingness to step outside her comfort zone.

Again, she’s relied on that AI for her entire life up till this point so if she brought it with her to school, just to have some sense of security while she adjusted to the setting around her, nobody would say anything about it. Yet she didn’t.

Lala really wanted to experience what it was like to be a normal kid on Earth. She didn’t want to be the old Lala who clutched to her AI like a lifeline. She wanted to become someone who could handle things without the AI.

The only reason why she brought AI-chan with her the second day was not because she grew afraid and backtracked on finding her new identity but because she underestimated the culture shock that would bowl her over.

And what a culture shock it was. Look, there are even lightning strikes for emphasis.

LOL, anyways...

Things on Earth are so different from things on Saaman that it physically drains Lala’s energy after she discovers just how different they are.

What’s more, for all of Saaman’s apparent “advancement”, it seems that its civilians can’t do much without AIs, which makes Lala feel ashamed when she compares herself to the Earthlings, who do make an effort to learn and understand what they learn.

Not just absorb details and retain them.

On Earth, they ask questions, they make theories, they perform tests and experiments and they repeat the process.

Lala, who’s always been told what the answers are, has never learned how to do that and she feels so lost because of it.

Then there was the ill-timed comment from Himenowhatsherface on her fluency in Japanese and therefore also, indirectly (and unbeknownst to mostly everyone), Lala practically been home schooled since forever so of course she wouldn’t know about the rule of no running in the halls.

It’s no wonder Lala’s become so depressed by lunchtime.

Poor girl. That’s a lot to take for just the first day.

What’s sad is that Lala’s misunderstanding the whole situation. She thinks that it’s her fault for not acting like the other kids when in reality, no one really expects that of her.

She’s from a different country, speaks a different tongue, has different customs. They all know that. Nobody is asking her to change that, to be like everybody else.

But given Lala’s perfectionist nature, every “mistake” she makes only drives her desperation to “fix” it as fast as possible.

Remember beginning!Lala? How she closes people off when she’s frustrated nothing’s going her way? How the more she tries to make things right, it just becomes more of a mess?

Yea, Lala still doesn’t do well under stress.

But this time, the stress has lead her to making the wrong assumptions.

The next day, she’s got her glove on again and doing her best to talk to everyone in “lun”-unaccented Japanese.

All the way down to the keigo.

Considering that Lala was completely fine with not using honorifics or acknowledging seniority and the like before, it’s no surprise that this new development shocked her friends.

The issue is not Lala’s attempt to assimilate. The issue is that she’s trying to assimilate when there is absolutely no need to.

And I’ll say it again. If Lala brought AI-chan with her to feel more at ease in an unfamiliar environment, maybe to have AI-chan help her translate some things or explain some Earthling stuff, then that’s one thing.

However, Lala continuously referring back to AI-chan throughout her second day at school and asking it what she should do to appear more “Earthling” is counterproductive to her original objective (learning not to rely on the AI).

She’s taken the phrase “when in Rome, do what the Romans do” a little too much to the extreme.

She’s trying to erase what makes her unique so she can blend in with the people around her.

Which is so...awful to even say out loud but that’s just how badly Lala wants to fit in!

But even more than that, she’s so afraid that her being different will damage her friendship with the other girls.

She doesn’t want to be so “foreign” or “odd” to other people that it would affect how they look at Hikaru, Elena and Madoka as well. She doesn’t want to inconvenience her friends that it will change their relationship. She doesn’t want to be what breaks them apart.

After all, they’re the biggest reason why Lala’s going through all this trouble. They’re the reason why she wants to stay on Earth in the first place otherwise she wouldn’t have fought so hard in the last episode to stay together with them.

Lala’s willing to give up being herself just to stay with them (AWWW) and reassures Hikaru that she’ll do her best to get used to being “Earthling” (read: not Lala).

But Hikaru and the others, being the awesome friends they are, straight up tell her “No, Lala, you’re wrong” and set about reminding her why she wanted to go to school with them in the first place.

Yea.

They love Lala for who she is.

The would never demand Lala to act like them or speak like them or know every single Earth custom there is to know in order to hang out. Friends don’t give friends those sort of conditions (wow, that would be majorly screwed up).

They just wanted to spend time together with Lala and give her the experience she didn’t have on her home planet.

Lala never needed to worry about “fitting in” because she fits in with Hikaru, Elena and Madoka perfectly fine and she always had. Just because she goes to school with them now, nothing has changed.

Nothing that truly mattered had changed.

And they’re going to keep it that way.

had to correct it, not apologizing for anything except that text font, srslywtf “yeppers”?!

Finally, I think if this has taught Lulu anything (other than what’s already stated above), it’s that if she lets people to get to know her, including all her oddities and quirks and whatever makes her Lala, then they will surely respond to her sincerely and learn to appreciate her just as much as her own friends do.

It’s a scary thought, to face an unknown world where you might be rejected for who you are or what you are not.

But it’s not so bad when you do find someone who does understand and wholly accepts you.

That makes being different, being unique, everything worthwhile.

#i hope i mentioned everything i wanted to say #star twinkle precure #hagoromo lala #cure milky

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waywardnerd67 · 6 years

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Burning the Past

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Description: Dean struggles with the aftermath of a decision the Reader makes.

Warnings: Angst (I think… my first go at writing angst), fluff at the end, depression, mentions of self-harm, suicide attempt, abusive parent

Word Count: 2263

Song Choice: “Numb” – Linkin Park

A/N: @rosethesupernaturalhunter Rose500challenge. “Numb” by Linkin Park is a very personal song for me. This song and music video explain a great portion of my teenage life dealing with Major Depressive Disorder and Self-Harm. This story is personal for me as well. It is a piece of fiction based on real events in my own life dealing with depression, self-harm, suicide attempt and a verbally abusive father. Please read warnings before reading since this may be triggering for some people.

**Please know that if you are dealing with any kind of mental health illness you are not alone in your struggles. There are many people who are out there ready to listen and help. There are many organizations out there as well including IMAlive and National Suicide Prevention Lifeline . If you don’t feel comfortable talking to someone from there then my blog is always open for anyone who needs it. As Jared Padalecki once said, “If you’re out there and need help, please seek it. Be proud of your valiant day-to-day struggle. There is no shame in needing support.”

Dean Winchester set the bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him. Leaning up against his bed with the same song blaring in through his headphones. He glanced down at the journal opened on his lap running his fingers over the delicate handwriting. Her handwriting. Her words. Her tormented soul. He never knew she was this bad. He never knew how dark it had gotten inside her head. From his point of view, (Y/N) was happy, joking, bubbly woman he admired. She was strong, courageous and a badass hunter. He should have paid more attention to her. Noticed the little things that were different in her actions, in her words. He gripped the bottle holding it up to his lips letting the amber liquid warm his insides and with a thud set it back down. He picked up the journal and reread the last few entries she had written.

Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow

Every step that I take is another mistake to you

Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow

“May 11th – 1:32am

I can’t take it anymore. My father’s words are floating in my head more and more each day. “(Y/N), concentrate on your target! If you can’t focus then you die!” “You’re worthless. You’re useless. Why did I ever have you?” “Get up you, lazy pig! The longer I wait the longer your training will be.” Now that he is gone, all I have left are those words. No matter how many times Sam and Dean tell me what a badass hunter I am, my father’s words ring truth in me. I’m supposed to save everyone. I’m supposed to kill the monsters that haunt people, but I’m too weak. I’ve done a great job hiding my true feelings from the boys but I can tell Sam knows something is up. He won’t say anything to me, but I can tell by the way he looks at me. Dean acts no differently around me, which is comforting. I wish I knew how to express my feelings to Dean. Confide in him the thoughts inside my head. If anyone could understand me it would be him, but I’m afraid that my head may be too dark even for him. I’m alone in this and I need to deal with myself alone.”

I'm tired of being what you want me to be

Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface

I don't know what you're expecting of me

Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes

“May 20th – 6:10pm

I met a hunter today that knew my father. It took everything in me not to scream out loud as this man talked about how great he was. “Your dad was a great hunter. One of the best, just like John Winchester. It’s good to see you are following his footsteps and becoming a great hunter as well.” All I did was smile and nod. Luckily, Dean swept in and saved me from hearing more from the man. Nowadays it takes all my energy to put on my happy façade around Sam and Dean. I thought writing would help me get my feelings out but it doesn’t anymore. I even went to get art supplies while Sam was getting some supplies in town. I always used to feel better after painting, but nothing is getting these feelings out. I thought sparring with Dean would help but I just felt useless as he defeated me repeatedly. I feel like I’m drifting and I’m losing faith that I will ever get better. There’s was only one thing that made me feel better and if the boys ever knew what I was doing then they would be so disappointed in me. Just the thought of seeing Dean’s disappointed face makes me tear up. I never want to disappoint him but I just can’t take the pressure building up inside me anymore. I have to let it out somehow and this is the only way I know how too.”

Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control

'Cause everything that you thought I would be

Has fallen apart right in front of you

“May 26th – 3:24am

The feeling of pain releases all my tension. It is so hard to describe how causing myself pain makes me feel better if only for a few fleeing moments. It’s getting harder to hide my scars from Sam and Dean especially on my arms. Dean noticed I took his red and black flannel shirt to wear. I told him it was my favorite of his and I liked how big it was on me. Which is all true, but also the sleeves come all the way down past my hands easily covering the marks and scars on my arms. Sam caught me the other day walking from the shower room to my room and saw the marks on my lower legs. I quickly told him I had been walking in my favorite spot and got a little cut up from stumbling. Thankful he couldn’t see the marks up close or he would be able to tell they are too straight for random cuts. It’s not only that either. Sam noticed me not blocking Dean’s punches or kicks when we were sparring. I played it off that I had no idea what he was talking about, but honestly, I like the bruises. I can push on them causing small amount of pain to ease tension in a pinch. I hate that I’m using Dean like that but it the end it helps me. I wonder how much longer I can keep this façade up around them. I’m needing a release more and more throughout the day and hunting with the boys doesn’t give me the privacy I have in the bunker. They will suspect something if I ask for my own room. Speaking of hunting I need to try and sleep since we are leaving in two and half hours. Here’s to trying to keep my dark thoughts at bay.

And I know I may end up failing too

But I know you were just like me with someone disappointed in you

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there

Become so tired, so much more aware

By becoming this all I want to do

Is be more like me and be less like you

“May 28th – 10:54pm

Dear Sam and Dean,

By the time you come back I should be gone, hopefully I did not screw that up. I should have never came hunting with you this time. I screwed up. My father always told me if I wasn’t focus I would get dead. I haven’t been focused and today that cost a little girl her life. I’m just a huge disappointment to everyone and you both are better off without me. I can’t feel anything anymore. I’m just floating through the motions and I don’t have the energy to do that anymore. I don’t have the energy to do anything anymore. I would apologize for leaving you like this but I know it won’t help either of you process this. Please don’t blame yourselves for this happening. You both were amazing partners and friends. There’s nothing you could have said or did to help prevent this. This was a battle I had to fight on my own and I loss. We all know that happens, it just so happens this battle was within myself that I loss. I expect you both to burn everything of mine with no exceptions. You both will move on from this sooner than you think. I will just be a faded memory in the back of your mind that one day will fly away.

Sam, please make sure Dean doesn’t do anything stupid to try and bring me back. I know you won’t do anything stupid, but keep an eye out on your brother. I left my copy of Grimm Fairytales on my desk in my room. I want you to have it since one of my fondest memories is the two of us discussing it.

Dean, I love you. I have loved you since the moment you and John showed up at my house that cold December night. What started as just a teenage crush on an older guy changed the moment you dropped everything and came to my side when my father died. I fell in love with you and I always knew I would never be good enough for the great Dean Winchester. You deserve a woman who is strong and fearless. That is obviously not me, but I want you to know that I love you deeply.

Goodbye.

'Cause everything that you thought I would be

Has fallen apart right in front of you

Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there”

Dean watched as his tears darken the pages of her journal. The images of finding her flashing in his mind. Hearing Sam scream for him from the bathroom and seeing her laying in the bathtub. The metallic smell hitting him like a Mack truck. Sam wrapping her arms with towels and for the first time seeing the damage she had caused to herself up and down her arms and legs. Scars neither of them knew about that had healed and been opened again. To see her normally vibrant lips being ghostly white. Sam calling an ambulance after finding a faint pulse. The only thing Dean could do was hold her and wonder who did this to her. Watching the paramedics working on her and not being able to leave her side as he rode in the ambulance while Sam followed in the Impala. Once at the hospital, the harsh reality hitting them both that she had done all of this to herself. As they waited for the doctors to come out and talk to them Sam handed him (Y/N)’s journal letting him read what he just had. Seeing Sam crying openly as he walked away made Dean’s stomach churn. Then he read her letter and his world stopped.

Dean jumped out of his thoughts feeling a hand on his shoulder. He pulled off his headphones as he saw it was Sam stand there. “We should get going.” He simply said as Dean nodded. He closed her journal setting it on his bed and shut off the song she had written the lyrics down at the end of her letter. He grabbed her favorite flannel of his out of his closet and laid it next to her journal. He gathered his coat and her items walking out to the library. Sam was setting a few things of (Y/N)’s in a cardboard box. Dean set his shirt and her journal in the box along with everything else that was hers from the bunker. Sam taped the box shut and the brothers went to the Impala making the trip out to an opening in the woods (Y/N) loved the most in Kansas. As Dean drove he remembered the last time he and (Y/N) had come out to this her favorite spot. They laid on top of the Impala’s hood looking up at the stars. His arms around her as she gazed up into the night sky. She looked so peaceful and happy. He knew then he was in love with her and was going to tell her but then Sam called with a case. The moment lost.

Sam and Dean gathered all the wood they could to build a pit. Sam placed the cardboard box in the center of the pit. Dean opened the back door to the Impala helping (Y/N) out of the backseat. She pulled her sleeves down over her scars on her arms and wrists. It had been six months since she had tried to take her life. In those six months she went into treatment for depression and self-harm and the boys would visit her every chance they got. When she was released from her program she began going to a support group making friends to keep her accountable not that she really needed too. Sam researched everything he could about depression and self-harm. He talked with people online who had loved ones dealing with the same issues and found many ways to help (Y/N) constructively. Dean never left her side for too long. They never talked about their feelings for one another but everything between them had changed. He laced their fingers together as they walked over to the fire pit.

(Y/N) decided she wanted a fresh start once she moved back to the bunker. “Dean, I really don’t think you need to burn your shirt. I have all good memories of it.” She chuckled as he shook his head. “Nope, you said everything from the past and that includes the shirt.” She rolled her eyes but he noticed her smirking. Sam lit the end of a large branch and handed it to (Y/N) saying, “Burning the past.” She looked over to Dean who nodded, “Burning the past.” (Y/N) walked over to the pit and threw the branch onto the box immediately lighting it up in bright yellow and orange flames. “Burning the past.” She whispered as Dean put his arm around her shoulders and Sam held her hand. As bright as the flames were, they stood in front of, so was her future and for the first time she felt hopeful to see what was in store for her and the life she was given a second chance to live.

#Rose500challenge #dean x reader #angst #dean winchester fanfiction #writing challenge #song lyrics #numb linkin park #a little fluff #akf #you are not alone #mental health awareness #suicide prevention #self injury awareness #personal story

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astouract · 6 years

Photo

Dec 18th | Falling into Christmas 🎄

A/N: Requested by anonymous, I changed it a bit but I hope you like it!

Words: 1,574

Warnings: none

Christmas shopping. It was easily one of the most frustrating, exciting things to do. Living in the city made it pointless to have a car, so you’d always saved your money and just taken the metro. On a Sunday seven days away from Christmas, though, the train was packed with people who were doing last-minute shopping. Including you.

You weren’t able to find a seat, so you stood by the door clinging to a pole as people pushed past you and knocked into you to get on. You turned to scowl at someone who’d sent you harshly into the metal of the pole, and the one thing you didn’t expect to see today was three of the Avengers sitting just behind you.

None of them seemed to realize you were there, with Thor and Bruce talking and Loki sitting beside them with a disgusted frown plastered onto his face. They all looked so different now, but yet the same. They’d grown in the past four years.

Four years. The phrase seemed to echo in your mind--had it really been that long? It seemed like just months ago you’d been asked to permanently join the Avengers, and you accepted. . . Before you ran away. You ran, not because you were afraid of the responsibility or the possibility of death, but because you were afraid of the raven-haired man who was now sitting right behind you.

You weren’t scared of his abilities or his unpredictability, nor because of his history of trying to take over planets. You’d begun to fall for him--no, scratch that--you’d fallen hard for him. Face first, cheek in the gravel, you’d fallen hopelessly in love with the God of Mischief.

You were shaken from your thoughts when the doors slid open once more and a sea of people flooded to get out of the car. You gripped onto the pole like a lifeline, but you were knocked over and, with an indignant shriek, sent flying into the lap of another passenger.

“I’m so sorry,” You stammered, looking up as you struggled to get back to your feet.

Your face flushed and you froze when your gaze met Thor’s from the next seat over. Which meant. . . You’d fallen into Loki’s lap. Hesitantly, you raised your eyes to find pure blue ones looking right back at you. His thin lips curved into an amused smirk, and his hands went to your waist to steady you as people pushed past.

“Well, well, well.” He drawled, “Looks like we didn’t have to go very far after all.”

Your heart dropped, his fingertips leaving invisible burns on your waist as you stupidly gaped at him.

“(Y/N)!” Bruce exclaimed, “Were you there the whole time?”

You nodded without a word. Were they here to collect you? You’d been missing being a part of the Avengers lately, but it was unlikely that Fury would send Thor, Bruce and Loki to come get you. No, it was impossible.

Thor smiled warmly at you, and you offered a small wave. “Hey,” You croaked, your voice betraying you.

“It’s lucky that you fell into Loki like that, we were hoping to find you.”

The doors slid closed, and Loki finally released you. Bruce and Thor slid down, dragging Loki with them to make room for you on the bench. You sat just as the train jerked forward, looking out of the window across from you at the snowy city. Why would they be looking for you if not to ask for your help?

“We’re here to re-recruit you.” Came Thor’s deep voice.

There it was. “And what makes you think that I’ll even return to the tower with you? I left for a reason.”

But was it a good one?

“Whatever Loki did--and we have every reason to believe it was him who made you leave--we brought him here to apologize!” Bruce’s tone raised to a high pitch, which clearly meant that he thought bringing Loki along was a terrible idea.

Your eyebrows shot up, and Loki stared ahead looking more disinterested than ever.

I know why you ran, his low voice said in your mind. Four years since he’d communicated with you in this way, and honestly, you’d missed it.

He must have known that you weren’t going to respond, because he continued to speak. Either you feared for your life, or you feared that you might love me.

What’s the difference? You said back, ignoring the confused looks from Thor and Bruce.

Loki huffed, but you weren’t finished. I’m a mortal and you’re a god. You couldn’t love me, not like I love--loved you. I was getting too close to the flame and we were both going to get burned.

Loki’s hand suddenly clasped around your arm, and you opened your mouth to protest, knowing exactly what he was doing. A green shimmer surrounded both of you, and the next thing you knew, you were standing in a familiar alley.

“I have shopping to do!” You scowled, peering around the corner to see where you were. People hurried past, paying no mind to either of you as they rushed to the metro station just to the right of where you were. The clouds had broken open to release big, fluffy snowflakes, the kind that didn’t pack together very well.

“Did you take into consideration that I might have felt something for you too?” Loki asked, ignoring your protest. “And that possibly, you should have said something before you decided to drop off of the face of the earth?”

You turned back to where he stood with his arms crossed, his eyes focused on you pointedly. “And what would you have possibly done if I did say something? Nothing, you wouldn’t have done a thing, and that would have been worse than leaving without saying goodbye.”

““You don’t know that.” He said, his voice wavering as his gaze softened. “You want to know what I would’ve done if you would have told me that you were going to leave?”

You gestured towards him as he took a step forward. “Please, enlighten me.”

“I would’ve told you what you mean to me, that you’re the only person who actually tried to understand me instead of pegging me as an unlovable monster. That I was in the same room as you whenever I could, because you made me feel like more than just some empty shell of a villain everyone hates.”

“You aren’t a villain, you just went through some rough patches to work through your past. Everyone does it.” You stuck your hands in the pockets of your puffy vest, wishing you would have brought an actual coat.

Loki quirked an eyebrow, and you took a moment to appreciate the way the light snowflakes landed in his raven hair. It made him seem more real, somehow. “Yes, and I’m sure it’s normal to try to take over entire planets in the process.”

You grimaced with a shrug. “You’re a god, you have more power than any of us do.”

He pursed his lips, looking straight at you, but you knew his mind was elsewhere. “I shouldn’t have let you go,” He finally mumbled. “I thought my feelings for you were wrong, misinterpreted, that I was making something out of nothing.”

He suddenly snapped back into reality, and strode forwards until he was but an inch away, his eyes searching yours for a sign of something. “This is what I would’ve done if I knew you felt for me as I did for you.”

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you and swept you up into his arms, connecting his lips with yours like his life depended on it. You’d never experienced such passion before, and the action sent electricity throughout your body and straight to your core. He took advantage of your parted lips, sneaking his tongue into your mouth as your hands went to whatever piece of his armor they could get a hold on, pulling him as close as they could. His touch had moved to your waist, fingertips dancing against the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as he pulled away for air, his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink either from the cold or your interactions. The frigid air made it possible to see the puffs of air he exhaled, and you found that you weren’t as concerned with the mid-December chill anymore.

“After that, I would have asked you to stay--hell, I might have begged if need be.” His eyes locked with yours, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen him so vulnerable, so open and honest.

“Come back,” He murmured, still holding into you by the waist. “Please.”

The way he was looking at you almost took your breath away. It only took four years, but here you were, having the conversation you only would have dreamed could happen. Life wasn’t the same without the Avengers, without Loki--it was easier emotionally, it was near painless, but it was empty. This was your second chance, how could you say no?

You reached up to curl your fingers loosely around a few locks of his curly hair, something you’d always wanted to do. He smiled softly as the silken ringlets slipped through your hands, waiting anxiously for your answer.

“Only because you said please.”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x you #25 days of christmas #original post #why cant this be real #tom hiddleston #hiddleston

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transvavsquad · 6 years

Text

title: infinity times infinity pairing: freewood, jerevin, jeremwood, jerevinwood au: skyfactory warnings: temporary character death summary: The darkness was painful, some had said, and without a torch to guide you and to warm you, then you would surely be torn apart by it. Some thought it was victory‒ the god of Night had won in his battle, and in celebration was wiping out the weak. Others, like Jeremy, thought it was sadness, or anger. The night god had lost his love, and the people had lost their light. The sun was gone. The Solar one had been taken.

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chapter 3: the twilight

Jeremy drifted.

Every time he woke up, there was a new conversation at his side. He only caught snippets‒ worried voices, and heavy words. There was a terrible feeling, deep in his stomach that he couldn’t place.

The first time he managed to open his eyes, there was a hooded acolyte next to him. They began gently wiping at his forehead, with a warm wet cloth. They hushed him when he tried to speak.

“You’ve been through a lot,” they said. “The power of an angry god is not something many have survived. But it is no wonder that you did.”

Jeremy made a questioning noise in the back of his throat and the acolyte hushed him again. Something about them seemed off, but they gave him another hushing noise and let a few drops of potion hit his lips. He licked at it on instinct and felt it taking hold quickly enough. He wasn’t awake for much longer.

When he woke again, the acolyte was still there, but someone else was at their side.

The man wore a long, heavy cloak that was darker than any fabric Jeremy had ever seen‒ the ends just barely brushed against the floor, and the long he stared, the more it blurred into nothingness. Nestled on soft brown hair was an obsidian crown, cracked and sharp, but the man’s skin was pale against it, and his eyes were a soft blue.

Jeremy sucked in a quick gasp at the realization hit him.

The Dark God chuckled low as Jeremy began to stammer and push himself into a sitting position on the bed. The acolyte smiled and handed Jeremy a glass of water, helping him drink when his hands were shaking too hard to keep a hold of it.

“What... what happened?” he asked. Something else came to mind. “Gavin‒ where’s Gavin?”

Thunder rumbled. The god lowered his head and Jeremy choked on his breath. He almost felt his heart stop.

“No,” he managed.

The acolyte smiled and placed their hand on his gently. “He’s not all gone,” they said in quiet reassurance. “As long as light remains, he will too.”

“But‒ he died‒ he was in my arms, he...”

“The sun doesn’t die so simply,” the acolyte murmured. They gestured simply towards the lantern on the side table. “The fire burns, and produces protection against the darkness. It leaves burns and blisters the skin. It exists, and that is our reassurance.”

“The secret of light is Gavin’s alone,” Ryan said, and Jeremy jolted at the suddenness of his voice. “I’ve forgotten how it begins, and I can’t be sure, but I do believe the Seamstress has as well. Gavin is the only one who can keep it alight. He’s the only one with that magic, that ability.”

Jeremy blinked slowly. “He’s... alive then.”

“Lost, but alive.” The acolyte stood from their seat. “You two need to discuss things. I’m going to find you some clothing‒ perhaps a warm bath, as well, and some food?”

Jeremy nodded in thanks and they left through a heavy wooden door that slammed shut behind them. He turned his eyes down towards the bedspread, smoothing it out and swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. There was heavy silence before Ryan sighed deeply.

“Do you even know how angry I was when he disappeared.”

It wasn’t a question. Jeremy shrunk in on himself, nodding and pulling the covers closer. Ryan took another deep breath.

“It was... so quick. Terrifyingly so. There are no boundaries, in Etherium, just the edge of our land that we continuously build on and on, and beneath it, the void. I thought, maybe, being him, he’d just slipped off again‒ he sort of, shouted, you know, called for attention, like he usually does. It never hurts for long when we fall, and we come back fine, if missing a few things we were holding on to.”

He gave a huff of laughter, but Jeremy noticed how he shook ever so slightly.

“But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop calling, and when I looked, he was‒ in so much pain, it was‒ unnatural for him to feel that much. And I reached for him, to hold him, to calm him, to find out anything, and our fingertips barely touched before he was just...”

Ryan finally sat down at the edge of the bed, head tilted upwards. Jeremy swallowed as he was hit with a flash of Gavin in the same position.

“I knew he was here, but I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t reach to him, call to him, go to him. Nothing. Just traces of his light, his magic. And when I discovered what was keeping him from me, what had pulled him away‒ the curse, the ritual‒ I knew where to start.”

“The lightning,” Jeremy mumbled. “The storms. You were targeting anyone who used blood magic.”

“Yours wasn’t strong,” Ryan said. “But I could never get a hold on you, either. There were a few others‒ repented mages, who became true acolytes‒ but they were easy to locate, not like you. You were protected. Hidden behind a veil.”

“Gavin...”

Ryan nodded. “I thought maybe it was against his will. He just does things, you know, it’s not his choice who he protects with his magic. And when I got this.”

He pulled something out from under his cape and Jeremy gasped. Gavin’s scarf was still shining gold, but tattered, edges frayed and wind-torn. Ryan had a tight grip on it and he ran it through his hands like it was a lifeline. “I gave it to him, when we had just agreed to our partnership. He loved this scarf, he‒ he promised he’d never lose it. For the wind to carry it back to me...”

He took a deep breath and turned back to Jeremy, a storm brewing in his eyes. “I’d like to apologize, but also thank you. You protected him, and helped when he was weak‒”

“I failed him, though,” Jeremy interrupted desperately. “I didn’t get him here, I couldn’t keep him alive long enough‒”

“You did what you could,” Ryan said. “And that is the most anyone could have asked of you.”

The room fell quiet. Rain made patterns of sound on the marble roof of the temple.

The acolyte returned with a platter of meats and breads, setting it on the bedside table, along with a bowl of apples. They held a glass of golden liquid that shifted with pinks and blues the longer Jeremy looked at it. Jeremy took the bread first, revelling in the warmth in his hands, and nodding in thanks before digging in.

“Will you come with me?” Ryan asked him quietly. “To find him again.”

Jeremy swallowed before answering. “I don’t understand why you need me.”

“Because‒”

“The Sun has given you a piece of himself,” the acolyte said. Jeremy turned towards them, and they nodded towards his chest with a smile. Jeremy suddenly instinctively reached for the pendant. “It holds the very last of his magic. The sun is literally in your hands. In turn, you must return him to himself.”

The pendant flared to life at their words, sending a burning warmth throughout him. It didn’t hurt, but it was a sudden reminder of what he’d been given. Ryan nodded when he sent him a glance.

“He chose you,” Ryan told him simply. “Every human on this plane, and he chose you.”

Jeremy played with the pendant, as if to memorize the shape of it with his fingertips. The acolyte smiled at him reassuringly.

“Okay,” he heard himself say. “Okay, yeah, I’ll go with you.”

“Good,” the acolyte said before Ryan could speak, and pushed the glass towards him. “Drink. All of it, and quickly.”

Ryan’s eyes watched him carefully as he took the glass and pulled it towards him. “What is it?” the god asked just as Jeremy began to drink. It tasted like honey, tinged with citrus, and Jeremy finished it off quickly.

“Stardust,” the acolyte said with a grin, “mixed with the last sunset as he fell.”

Jeremy almost choked. Ryan stared at them like he was seeing a completely different person. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s my gift to him,” they laughed. “In the same sense as Gavin’s and, eventually, yours. It mimics the sun’s protection without using anything Gavin left you.”

They stood to leave, and Jeremy finally saw beneath their hood. They looked human enough, but they gave off an impression of something distinctly unnatural, inhuman in the way Gavin and Ryan were. “The gods bless you, Jeremy Dooley. Good luck.”

“Wait!” Ryan shouted in sudden realization, standing from the bed. He grasped for the arm but only managed to grab air. “Shit.”

Jeremy looked down into the glass, swirling the few unreachable droplets around in the bottom. “Was, uh. Was that...”

“Yeah,” Ryan mumbled. “It was.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, suddenly feeling very small.

They spent what Ryan said was a few days in the clearing, resting and preparing.

“There’s a place,” Ryan told him, pointing to a crude map under flickering candlelight. His finger was on a spot just near the bottom of the range, a valley of some sort, not too far from them. “We’d never gone before, but we knew of it‒ there are certain magics there that aren’t human, and I’ve been lead to believe that it’s a place of healing, in some ways. Even if he isn’t there, there’s a chance anyone who watches the place might be able to help.”

“Watches?” Jeremy asked.

“All magic has a sort of‒ guardian, in a word. Gavin is the guardian of light magic, of the day, and I’m the guardian of the opposite‒ dark magic, and night. But neither of us control other things‒ like healing, or charity, or animals, even. Our magic is overarching, but we can’t control it all.”

“So the other areas were assigned to other gods?”

Ryan laughed, and Jeremy was inexplicably warmed by it. “I don’t know if they’re fully gods, but there are special beings that aren’t human‒ demigod, would be the term. Your friend Michael, for example,” he mentioned, and Jeremy jolted.

“Michael’s a demigod?”

“Michael doesn’t know it yet, but his masks, and magic, are part of a bigger project. They’ll lead him to another realm and more botany.”

“Jesus,” Jeremy whispered. Ryan put a hand on his shoulder and he shivered as the cold seemed to seep through his jacket and shirt, and the god pulled away sheepishly.

“So the valley,” he finally said. “It’s a few days out, if we’re walking and taking rests‒ I’m sure a few of the acolytes could provide us food, and supplies for the trip...”

“About that,” Ryan said. “I can’t technically come with you.”

Jeremy gave him a long look. “You asked me to come.”

“I mean I can’t come in this form,” he gestured to himself. “I’ll join you as such when I can, but...”

“You’ve exhausted it,” Jeremy realized.

“I’ve spent forever looking for Gavin like this,” Ryan murmured. “It’s tiring. I need time to heal it and restore it to what it used to be. Searching has... corrupted me further.”

“You’ll be with me, though?”

“Maybe not physically, not the whole time. By the second day I should be able to do a non-humanesque form...”

“Like a cat, or bird?”

“Yes, something like that.” Ryan stretched, and brushed a hand against Jeremy’s forehead lightly. Jeremy flushed from what felt like head to toe and pulled away, listening to Ryan’s laughter in his ear. “Take your rest, Jeremy. We’ll leave by star’s next call.”

“Star’s...” Jeremy murmured, but felt himself slipping from consciousness again, sleep taking him into it’s hold and Ryan taking him into his hold as well.

“You’ll have to move quickly.”

Jeremy jolted, before turning to meet the person’s voice‒ the acolyte was there, again, but in their full glory as the third high god.

“Seamstress,” he whispered, and they laughed.

“Yes, Jeremy,” they said. “Three gods in the span of a week, you lucky boy.”

Jeremy could see how they seemed to settle between the two others, a good balance of them both in aesthetic‒ closer to Gavin, in a lot of ways, but mysterious and dark like Ryan had been. Their hair was the biggest mystery about them‒ swirling colors and starlight danced within the strands, resulting in millions of universes floating around them like nothing at all.

The world around Jeremy seemed unsure, shifting constantly along with the Seamstress’ hair, and Jeremy looked around, confused.

“This is a dream,” he realized, and the god laughed again.

“Yes, and I don’t have a lot of time‒ nor do you. You have to find the Sun within the week.”

“Why, what happens if I don’t?”

“He loses himself,” they said simply. “His memories and any remnant of his power.”

“And then the world goes dark,” Jeremy sighed.

“And we can’t recreate it,” they told him. “Ryan will help as much as he can, but ultimately, it’s in your hands.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jeremy said. They smiled brightly.

“Your best is all we ask. It’s gotten you quite far.”

Jeremy nodded. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” they said, and waved a hand.

Ryan was nowhere in sight the next morning, but Jeremy had figured as much. Instead, a stone rested heavily in his pocket, round and white, about the size of a large gold coin. It gave off a soft white light, and something was carved into it‒ a symbol, Ryan’s crest.

The acolytes gave him a bag full of things, like the one he had before, but heavy with charms and extra bedrolls. The pack itself was full of hidden pockets, filled to the brim with seeds and little relics and‒

He shoved the bag back towards them. “No,” he said sharply. “I can’t do that.”

“It’s what took him,” a voice whispered into his ear. “And it will help you bring him back, I can promise you that.”

“I gave it up!” he insisted.

“You have to,” the Seamstress reminded him. “It’s easy to remember. Like swimming. You will need it.”

Jeremy sighed.

His sacrificial knife sang to him in his inner coat pocket.

“Only on myself,” he said, and the stone thrummed with energy in his hand. “I refuse to harm another living thing, not like this. I refuse.”

The acolytes pushed the bag towards him again. Another pushed him a different sack, with jerky, and corn, and bottles of juices and water. “To the north,” she said quietly. “You’ll meet the guardians there.”

“There are guardians, then?”

She nodded. “Ramsey, guardian of livestock, and Pattillo, guardian of draconic magics. They’re favored. They can help find him.”

“And Ryan?”

“The Moon God will join you when you leave the barrier,” she told him.

“Oh‒ wait...”

“His true visage has been lost to time, but we still remember,” she nodded. “They call him dark, and for some time, he was. Loneliness and anger kept him like the void he was brought from. It wasn’t until the sun cast light upon him that he became what he truly is, but people don’t call him such. Losing Gavin is turning him back to what he had changed from.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said again, lost for words. The acolyte gently pushed him towards the path.

“To the north,” she said. “And luck be with you.”

The crashing of darkness still came upon him when he broke the barrier, but this time it was dispelled more smoothly than before, like just before crushing him it realized something and hesitated, pulling away. It curled at his feet and visibly tugged itself away from him, clashing and twisting angrily around him but ultimately never touching him. Looking around, he noticed there was a light on the trees, a soft white-yellow that seemed to radiate mostly from him. Oh, he thought to himself. Ethereal.

Indeed, someone rumbled‒ not quite in his own mind, but not in his own ear either. Don’t be afraid, Jeremy, it’s simply me.

“Ryan?” he figured, and the bodiless god chuckled.

If not me, then who?

A sleek raven managed to land on his shoulder, ruffling itself lightly. Although the moon wasn’t present in the sky, the feathers on the bird were reflecting a white light, making them pearlescent, shimmering almost purple in a false light. It cawed loudly and the two listened to the cry echo onwards, before Jeremy nodded. “On we go, then?”

Lead the way, Jeremy, Ryan said, settling down on his shoulder. To the valley.

“To the valley,” Jeremy agreed, and hefted the bag up further and began to walk.

There was little warmth on the first day of travel. By what was actually night, frost coated the ground like a blanket, slicking the barely paved step-stone path and making the world a mirror to any light. The fire was hard to start‒ the wood was wet from the ice, but it still took the flint and steel spark and slowly began to burn, melting away the ice and leaving a wet patch of grass on the ground.

Ryan ruffled his feathers and curled into Jeremy’s hood, beady eyes sharp and attentive. The fire danced in front of the two of them, cracking the wood as it dried. He took some jerky from the pack and began to eat, slowly, but there was something in the back of his mind, singing for attention, calling like a siren to his magic.

Why do you hate it so much? Ryan asked.

“Really,” Jeremy stated blandly. “You want to know why I don’t like using it, after what just happened.”

Fair enough, Ryan agreed. But considering you’re not like them, why are you against using it, if only for the good?

“People don’t usually see the good,” he told him. “Just... the bad. The darkness of it. How it’s done, how it’s practiced. The people who practice it.”

There’s a stigmatism around it, yes, but why not practice in silence?

“There’s still something... telling about it,” Jeremy whispered. He finally gave in and pulled the knife from its sheath deep in his jacket. The runes on it flashed, welcoming his touch, but all he could stare at was the silver of the actual blade. His mind kept flashing images, memories, other things too‒ things that scared him, sending dark shivers down his spine. “People just know, you know?”

The cuts heal.

“The aura doesn’t.”

Ryan leant forward and rested the tip of his beak on the back of Jeremy’s neck, making him stiffen. Someday, maybe, you can prove them wrong? Use it as you see the world. There are things waiting for you when you do.

Jeremy’s hands shook, but the knife seemed steady and comfortable in his grip. “...it scares me.”

It shouldn’t. It’s yours.

Nothing about that should have been comforting, but it was, in a strange way. Ryan’s voice, bodiless and almost omniscient, was surrounding him like another blanket, covering him with a weight that kept him calmer. It was almost the complete opposite of Gavin’s, however‒ deep and low, a gentle force that seemed cool and collected, almost cold. Gavin’s had always been high, and cheerful, full of literal life and joy and warmth.

Jeremy sighed, watching the flames climb higher, sparks and ashes dancing into the night. “We will find him, right?”

Don’t doubt him. He’s resilient and persistent. He will be there, waiting, when we come.

“Right.”

Don’t doubt yourself either, Jeremy. You’ve got quite a bit going for you.

“People keep saying that,” Jeremy mumbled, playing with the sun’s pendant in his fingers. “I haven’t really seen it yet.”

Ryan laughed and pecked lightly at the back of his neck. Be patient, he said. It will come. Now sleep. I’m here to keep watch.

“Thank you,” Jeremy said, laying down to tuck himself into his bedroll. Ryan flew from his hood as he moved, going above him into the air, and as his head hit the ground Jeremy noticed the underside of his wings‒ they blended almost perfectly with the starry sky, reflecting it in each feather. The darkness fell upon the area and curled towards the fire’s edge. Jeremy didn’t want to close his eyes in fear of the flame going out, but sleep took him anyways, and pulled him into restless dreams.

#jeremwood #jerevinwood #freewood #IT'S MINOR BUT ITS COMING I SWEAR TO SHIT #writing #skyfactory au #also this is very much a filler chapter i'm doing my Best on chapter 4 but like goddamn

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maxrev · 6 years

Photo

I actually posted this under my former blog. Reposting it here because this fits today’s prompt for #shepardweek so much more than anything else I could come up with. Hope it’s okay that it’s not a ‘new’ work.

It was hard to write, is still hard to read even for me. Heavy angst but if you’re okay with that, I think you’ll be happy to make it to the end :)

Supergiant - the largest star in the universe that burns the brightest but at what cost?

The argument had taken place on the bridge, loud enough for the whole crew to hear.

Shepard stormed off to his cabin.

Out of sight of everyone, a bone weary fatigue crashed down on him, feet stumbling through the dimly lit cabin towards the bathroom. His hand paused at the switch, afraid to shine a light on the irrefutable proof of the monster that lived inside his body and his mind. A monster slowly taking over his life.

The hand dropped heavily back to his side, too tired to fight even a small battle such as this. It seemed like all his life he’d been fighting something.

The cracks in his skin pulled tight with the smallest of movements, the fissures having grown alarmingly after the latest mission. They ached continuously, a throbbing pain he’d still not become accustomed to but pushed aside with sheer force of will. Even breathing caused him pain.

Weariness and guilt from this last mission ate away at him, relentless in its intensity, along with the argument he’d just had with Joker. He knew his pilot’s defense mechanism, knew that he in fact cared deeply but covered it up with jokes and smart ass comments. Yet, he’d still let this irrational anger override that knowledge, lashing out at the man.

Battle weary fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, enraged words coming back to haunt him. Anger got him nowhere but as much as he tried to corral it into submission, it refused to be tamed. John wasn’t sure if the anger was fuel for the scars or the scars brought his anger closer to the surface. Didn’t matter. He’d have to go and apologize to Joker. But later, once they’d both had time to cool off.

It rankled him that Anderson had felt the need to ask Joker to look out for him. It didn’t even make sense. Besides, he was fine. He would continue to push onward, get the job done, save the galaxy, save humanity and all the alien races, despite the fact that most of them refused to listen. Anderson should know that about him by now. Commander Shepard would complete this mission even with all the odds stacked against him.

His optimism deflated like a pin prick to a balloon. Thessia’s destruction, the end result of the mission there brought anger and pain, followed closely by despair. All of it piled onto shoulders already weighed down beyond all human comprehension. Failing that mission had been worse than a punch to the gut. Commander Shepard didn’t lose.

I should have been better prepared, should have done more, should have saved them all….

That sinister inner voice whispered through his mind, malicious words making him doubt his abilities as a Commander.

John leaned against the counter, staring into the mirror at the hideous angry red scars glowing savagely in the darkness. They cut a path across his face, a sign of the monster that was desperate to claw it’s way out and break free. He reached a hand outwards, fingertips a hairsbreadth away from running across the cracks, their edges smooth from within the glass, but the hand in the mirror trembled, slight but unmistakable, unable to carry the action out.

Pulling his hand back sharply, both palms pushed flat against the counter and he leaned in, angling his head down to hide the monster from his eyes. Sucking in a deep breath, he fought a maelstrom of emotions, shoving them angrily back into the box they’d escaped from, slamming the lid down.

There wasn’t time for them. Never had been time as long as he could remember. By now, it should be second nature, just like breathing. A brittle laugh slipped past chapped, scarred lips. Sure -- just as easy as the breath he was holding in even now.

Helpless to resist, he looked up once more, the blue of his eyes bright against the shadows that surrounded him, brighter even than the scars, rings of red beginning to shine within their depths. The only part of him he could say with a certainty was still John Shepard. A small part that was being swallowed whole.

He found it was impossible to face what he was becoming. No matter what the galaxy saw, what his crew saw, he was just John Shepard. Just a regular soldier trying to succeed at an oath he swore, just like so many around him. Unable to bear the monster in the mirror, he let his eyelids fall in surrender and yet, right before they slid down, he swore he saw the lip in the mirror form soundless words...weak-minded fool.

How long he stayed like that, hoping the monster would retreat back into the depths of his soul, he wasn’t sure.

Slowly lifting his head again, his eyelids crept open only to see those piercing blue eyes rimmed subtly with red staring back at him, face ravaged by the same deep, vivid crimson scars. The monster was still winning.

Cerberus had changed him forever, creating this thing that lived inside the man. A monster demanding to make itself known. Searing anger pulsed through his veins devouring him from the inside. The recklessness with which they’d taken his broken body in order to rebuild it reached new levels of depravity. As if that operation wasn’t corrupt enough to begin with.

He tried to shrug all the dark thoughts away but with Thessia still on his mind, those thoughts magnified, turning bitter, relentless, hollow...I’d have been better off dead.

His shower forgotten, John made his way to the bedroom, sagging onto the end of his bed with a quiet groan. Hands more suited to wielding weapons, meeting out his own brand of justice from time to time, cradled his head, fingertips biting into his skull as if the physical pain would drown out the pain of his anguished soul.

The constant highs and lows of his emotions, the weight of the decision he carried, the lives lost, he felt like he was going mad.

Time passed in a haze. Fingers, numb from gripping his skull for so long, slowly slid down his skull, shaved hair bristly and coarse against his palms, rough calluses catching on the edges of his scars, tugging at the skin painfully. The sensation was a reminder they were all too real. A soft but deceptive voice in his head mocked him...monster.

Dr. Chakwas had explained about these scars and the healing process -- “Negative attitudes and aggressive acts create adverse reactions with your cybernetic implants, while peaceful thoughts and compassionate actions promote healing. If you maintain a positive outlook, I believe your facial scarring will heal on its own.”

He’d tried the former with little success. Even more conscientious of his choices after Kaidan had come aboard, the perfect calming influence. Kaidan grounded him, though John hadn’t said as much. Putting that kind responsibility on him was something John refused to burden him with.

If he was honest with himself, Kaidan was so much more to him than just a brother in arms, his friend...his lover. Kaidan was the other half of his soul, making John complete in ways he hadn’t even known was possible. He was John’s lifeline out of the dark places he’d been falling deeper into since he’d woken up in that damn Cerberus lab. Kaidan was the peace he so desperately craved and hadn’t known he’d needed.

The days had flown by. The galaxy and all those in it, those that John had sworn to protect and fight for, continued to fight amongst themselves, making stupid choices, ignoring what was right in front of them. It all made John so damn angry, anger that manifested itself outwardly.

Even having Kaidan near him, fighting at his back, pulling him from the brink no longer helped. John wasn’t sure if he’d ever had that level of peace to begin with, probably never would, even with Kaidan by his side. He was also just a man and John would never seek him out like a greedy child in search of it, draining his own well dry.

Time grew shorter with each passing hour and his patience was wearing paper thin. There was no time for petty squabbles or second guessing; everyone needed to work together and they needed to do it now! But when he thought of going out there, facing Liara, reality crashed back down on him and the anger threatened to pull him under again. He’d failed her.

Right away he could feel a pull on the left side of his face. The scars would only get worse as he continued with this line of thought and yet, he felt helpless to change it. Closing his eyes, hands tightening into fists, he fought for some semblance of control, serenity in the midst of the storm but it eluded him.

How was anyone able to look him in the face when the monster so noticeable in the mirror looked back at them? If he was honest with himself, he knew the only thing that really mattered to the rest of the damn galaxy was that he save them all, regardless of the cost to his own soul.

And weren’t those his thoughts too, in a way? That he could do this. Hell no, more than that. He had to. There were times he felt the whole reason he’d been born, that all the hardships he’d endured throughout his life was to hone him - mind, body and soul - for this exact moment in time. It was a sobering thought. A painful one because as he’d come to know his crew, found a love worth living for, he found continuing on this path caused unimaginable anguish. He found that John Shepard wanted these people in his life, wanted a life with Kaidan after this war was over.

Before, he’d never thought beyond saving the galaxy. Now, he thought about it constantly.

A quiet whoosh startled him from his dark thoughts, the door to his cabin sliding opening. There was only one person who would walk in unannounced.

Arms leaning heavily on his thighs, John lowered his head, pulling in on himself in an attempt to hide the scars, the evidence of the monster within. By now, everyone on board had seen the damage but even so, he couldn’t stand to have Kaidan, the most important person in his world, see him like this. Even for Kaidan, John wanted to be strong. After Thessia, his scars had gotten much worse as well as his state of mind.

“Thought I might find you here.”

“And here I am.” Even to his own ears, he sounded weary. He should really take that shower and start looking for more intel. There was a pile of datapads littering his desk. Maybe something could be found in them to help in this damn war. “Was there something you needed?”

“Just wanted a mission debriefing, so I could fill out the reports.”

John didn’t buy it. If anything, Kaidan usually ended up doing his own reports and then John’s as well, without being asked or to verify info. “Why are you really here, Kaidan?” Still not looking up, John knew the biotic was rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just...I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Pulling rank might be all that would give John the ability not to fall apart here and now. “I’m fine, Major. I just need to be alone.”

“With all due respect, Commander, no you don’t.”

The anger he’d barely managed to control burst forth once again, this time accompanied by a flare of blue. “EDI, cut off transmission for this room. Now.” His voice snapped the order, still not looking up from his focused gaze at the floor.

EDI’s voice floated around them. “Done, Commander.”

No sooner had her voice faded, then the need to hide his scars was swept away by the anger burning through him. His head snapped up, no longer trying for control. This anger would not be denied. Blue eyes rimmed in red, blazing in indignation, met brown eyes full of compassion, completely absent of fear. The older man was unworried in the face of an anger so hot it caused a biotic flare.

“Don’t presume to tell me what I do or don’t need. You have no idea!”

Those warm brown eyes continued to gaze at him steadily. “You’re right. I don’t know. But every day I see what this war costs you, you know? How it sits heavily on your shoulders and yet... here you are, continuing to bear that weight, day in and day out. You just…you never stop. No rest for Commander Shepard.” Those last words were laced heavily with sarcasm, something rare for the biotic who was always calm and logical.

The blue flare died out at those impassioned words and John just stared at the man who meant more to him than his own life. A heavy sigh followed Kaidan’s words, his head turning away. Whether gathering strength for another verbal attack or because he couldn’t bear to look at the monster before him, John wasn’t sure. The monster inside his head whispered it was the latter but the heart said otherwise.

Strong fingers rubbed at the older man’s temples and John’s eyes locked onto their movement. Those same hands were the ones he’d held with his own a countless number of times. Guilt flared in his chest, heart pounding painfully, knowing he was the likely cause of Kaidan’s oncoming headache. He never wanted to cause Kaidan pain in any way but felt powerless to push aside his doubts, his fears or the anger he felt towards himself.

Eyes shuttering closed, he pushed out the world around him, even the man he loved. What did he have to offer as broken as he was?

He was startled when warm hands touched his face, eyelids slowly lifting, weighted down as they were by his own misery. Kaidan had quietly walked over and stood before him now. Jerking his head sideways, strong hands gripped the sides of his jaw firmly to hold it in place, tugging the skin of his scars. John welcomed the pain, a reminder of what he was becoming.

A thumb slid softly along his lower lip, hands tilting his head up to meet the eyes that could see deep into his soul. “John, stop this madness. No one thinks less of you, no one expects you to be a superhero. No one cares about your scars. We...what we do care about is you.”

He knew Kaidan meant well but didn’t the Council, the Alliance, all those colonies -- even the crew -- think he was their superhero? That he could swoop in and save the day? Rescue them all and they could go on as they had before? He was just so weary of wearing that damn cape every single day, rushing out guns blazing to tackle another problem, save another soul. Who was going to save his?

He couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out, “And you, Kaidan? What do you care about?”

Those beautiful lips tipped up on one side in the smirk John loved so well. His own hands came up to grasp Kaidan’s forearms, to soak in the heat that radiated from the other man’s body.

“You, John. I care about you, the man I see before me. I’ll stand by the Commander; fight by his side, pull him back when he runs too close to the edge. I’ve always got his six. But the Commander, for all his strengths, is just John Shepard right here.”

Kaidan put one hand on John’s heart and the younger man was sure he could feel its frantic rhythm.

Warm brown eyes sparkled with humor, “Both of them have a hard-headed stubbornness and willingness to forge on, pushing past the toll this fight for the galaxy puts on the body and mind, along with the grey in my hair. But yeah...the vulnerable, compassionate, very real John Shepard? I’ll be here for him no matter what life throws at him. At us.”

Lips lifted in a tired smile, the first one John had since Thessia. Kaidan was the only one who understood him, the only one who could march past his defenses, his doubts, his fears and come through unscathed. John watched as the smile fell from Kaidan’s face, a seriousness washing over him.

“I care that the man I love, John Shepard, is going to lose himself in this mission just to save the people who demand it and don’t think about what the hell they’re truly asking. And I can’t...John, I can’t let that happen. You’re what I need, have always needed. I care about making you happy, you know. That’s what keeps me going day after day.”

Not giving him a chance to reply, Kaidan pushed himself in between John’s legs, gazing down at him with eyes so pure, so intense, so calming. But was it enough?

“They look up to me, Kaidan. Everyone. The whole damn galaxy! They don’t need to see me when I’m like this. Don’t need to see the monster I’m becoming. Don’t need to see the doubt, the fears and pain, the cost of it all. The only one I want them to see is Commander Shepard.”

Strong hands moved from his face, trailing softly down his arms. Kneeling in front of him, Kaidan placed his hands on John’s thighs, those dark, warm eyes never leaving his. “You’re not a monster, John. You’re just as human as the rest of us.”

He opened his mouth to remind the older man he wasn’t entirely human anymore, only to be silenced with a kiss. John stiffened in response, dark thoughts still crowding his mind, whispering to him he wasn’t worthy of this affection. Kaidan angled his head, deepening the kiss, hands sliding around the younger man’s back, pulling him closer.

John let everything go, relaxed as that warm, muscular body came in contact with his, parting his lips as Kaidan’s tongue slid along the crease of his lips, seeking entrance. He couldn’t hold back a moan.

The need to feel that body under his hands, trail his fingers along warm tan skin consumed him but he continued to resist in a misguided notion that he didn’t deserve Kaidan, didn’t deserve having someone to turn to or share his life with, someone who loved him just as he was -- brokenness, scars and all.

Kaidan broke off the kiss and leaned back, brown eyes regarding John with nothing but love. Reaching up, he touched the tip of one finger to a scar at the top of John’s face. Softly, with great tenderness, the pad of that finger followed the jagged lines, tracing every one of them, pausing only when it snagged on a rough edge before continuing along its path.

A tear slipped down John’s face, humbled by Kaidan’s acceptance, that this man accepted him so completely. A thumb caressed the tear, wiping it away, a warm hand cupping the strong jaw with great care.

“Your scars are a part of you, John. They show the lengths you’ll go to for all of us, for the galaxy...to make sure there’s a life for us at the end. And...I...uh, actually find them kind of sexy, if you want to know the truth.”

John’s eyes widened in surprise at the admission, a chuckle rumbling through him as that trademark smirk appeared along with a red flush across cheekbones. Shaking his head at the man before him, John pulled him close in a fierce hug, overwhelmed by emotion as those strong arms wrapped around him in return. This man meant everything to him; a safe harbor from the endless storm his life had become. He could shoulder all the responsibility the universe piled on him as long as Kaidan was at his side.

#shepardweek #otappreciationweek #mass effect #mshenko #maxwrites #heavy angst #but a reward as well

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talkoverfrenchfries · 4 years

Text

That’s Angel Dust

I guess, since I posted a post already at the time of this one, I might as well continue my little on-off series! So here’s the next one

--------

Zu was let into the hotel lobby. Alastor had his arm draped over his shoulders still. It was not exactly uncomfortable but he would rather not be this close to a stranger, regardless of how well-known or how infamous this stranger is. The only reason Zu didn’t make a fuss was because of something he’s learned a long time ago, back when he was still alive. If you let people know you don’t want to be touched, it just makes them want to touch you more.

Charlie was excited and started rambling on about the hotel. How Zu would be happy here if he checked in, how they’d be such great friends, etc.

“Oh, but let’s not forget how rewarding it’d be if you redeemed herself and checked out, moving into heaven!”

Zu couldn’t help but flinch when he heard that. He also couldn’t help but ask, “with those angels?”

Charlie’s smile grew bigger, clearly more excited at what seemed to be interest in Zu. Of course, Alastor was still smiling all creepy as ever but gave no other reaction. Particularly since he’s still draping his arm and would have likely noticed the flinch even if he wasn’t looking at Zu directly or even in peripheral vision.

Well, Zu wasn’t having that. He intended to leave as soon as possible. So he squirmed out of Alastor’s embrace, the latter of which not even fighting against the squirming.

Zu was about to walk out but then he did a double-take. He saw a vision of beauty on the stool. The vision of beauty had white fur with a heart-shaped spot on the back of his head. He wore a suit jacket with a pink and white stripe pattern, pink gloves on each of his four arms, and a pair of thigh-high boots.

The vision of beauty then turned his head, probably having sensed from being watched. He gave a rather smug smile, gold tooth visible in it, and sent a wink in Zu’s direction. The eyes were appealing, too, one eye seeming like a regular eye with a pink iris and the other eye being black with a pink iris but without a pupil.

Zu wasn’t sure how to react. The vision of beauty may be incredibly attractive but he wasn’t attracted enough to flirt back or have an one-night stand. However, that’s when Alastor got animated, talking once more.

“You know, my dear boy, there’s more to this hotel than just the wonderful interior of which you’re seeing. You can also indulge yourself in entertainment here. In fact, let me give you a tour! What do you say?”

Zu was about to ask what does Alastor mean by ‘entertainment’. However, he stilled and hesitated, wondering if he even wants to know. It didn’t really matter in the end, though, because Alastor had grabbed Zu’s wrist and started moving him throughout the hotel.

“Here we are! The first room I’m showing has an acquaintance of mine! They’re not exactly well but they’d love to meet you!”

Alastor opened the door and, at that, Zu let out a scream of horror and disgust. The door had revealed some kind of deformed mass of scales, fur, feathers, eyes, mouths, and beaks. It really didn’t help that, upon noticing Zu, the deformed mass moved itself towards him. It was done at such a fast pace, too, like Zu was a lifeline for it and it had to grab him quickly.

Zu backed away and began to run. However, Alastor laughed and grabbed his wrist again and moved to another room.

“If you liked the last room, then this one will be right up your alley!”

“Wait- no! Wait!”

Alastor just simply opened the door like Zu never said anything. This door had let out floating eyeballs that surrounded Zu. These eyeballs were mostly surrounded by flesh but had wings in the back. They seemed intent watching Zu and Zu felt like they were viewing him with malicious intent.

“Sorry that you showed you two rooms already but I think I won’t be checking in after all.”

Zu tried getting through the eyeballs. However, not only did they not move, even when he tried getting them to move himself, but they watched Zu even more closely and with more obvious malicious intent.

Alastor made the eyeballs go away but grabbed Zu’s wrist once more. “Well, I don’t accept your apology. In order to make up for it, I’ll have to take you to more rooms!”

And so it went on like for a while. Zu was subjected to rooms that didn’t make the tour better as it went on. Charlie and Vaggie have been trying to find Zu and Alastor but the latter keeps using his powers to slip away. Apparently, he wanted to continue his fun. Zu hasn’t had luck getting away, either. Alastor was always teleporting next to him or using his powers in some shape or form to keep Zu from slipping away.

The latest room wasn’t any more fun than all of the others. It just had Zu in the dark and surrounded by black widow spiders. Those spiders weren’t even humanoid demons. They were flat-out actual black widow spiders. That room was personal torture for Zu. In fact, he’s whipped out his gun and tried shooting them.

The noise had alerted Charlie and Vaggie to his whereabouts. Alastor decided then that he’s had enough fun for today. So Zu stumbled out of the room and backed away ten feet away from the black widow spider room. He was on his hands and knees, taking deep breaths.

Charlie ran over to where she found Zu, followed closely by Vaggie.

“Zu, I’m so sorry we lost you. I promise that this will be the last of trouble for today. I hope whatever Alastor did won’t give you a bad impression of the Happy Hotel.”

Zu whipped his head up, clearly angry and upset. “Whatever he di- BAD IMPRESSION?! I just got of a room full of spiders! I even got bit a shit ton of times!”

Vaggie groaned, mumbling out “damn it, Alastor...”

Charlie tried doing damage control, apologizing and offering to take over on the tour. Of course, Zu didn’t want any more and slapped Charlie’s hand away.

“Hey! Do not hurt her! I don’t care how mad you are!”

Zu turned his anger towards her and a heated argument broke out. Charlie tried to defuse the situation but, obviously, she wasn’t very successful.

Then another voice broke into it. “Hey there, handsome. How about giving me some your time instead to the girls? Those two are already dating, anyway.”

Zu now snapped his attention to whoever talked just now. “Do you really think I’m-”

He was surprised to find that it was the vision of beauty from before. Apparently, that’s what his voice sounds like.

“Wait, it’s you? What are you doing here?”

“If I’m lucky, then I’ll be fucking with you.”

Zu was surprised by the direct invitation for sex that his anger ended up decreasing a little. Although, it probably helped that he let it out at first, arguing with Vaggie and snapping at Charlie.

The vision of beauty walked towards him with a kind of look on his face, all the while ignoring Vaggie’s protests to not make this worse and Charlie’s pleas to not to make things worse.

Then Zu was face to face with the vision of beauty, the latter bending over enough to be face to face in the first place. Then he introduced himself to him.

“My name’s Angel Dust but you’ll probably be calling me the best fuck of her life.”

Zu felt rather uncomfortable then, even as he thought the smile he was given was just as beautiful as the body itself.

-------

Thanks to anyone’s who’s bothered to read this! I promise to post more when I have time!

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #alastor #fanfic series

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absurdvampmuse · 7 years

Text

Dazed

Please go to http://archiveofourown.org/works/10828755 and leave behind your feedback and/or kudos? It would make my day. :)

Dazed

I love you like I've never, ever loved somebody so don't tell me that it's not enough when the taste of your lips is still fresh.

Betty found herself physically unable to stay within the confines of her room with merely her patience to keep her company. She didn't have enough self-control for that, not when she could only steer her actions at this particular moment. And even those were slipping through her hands like grains of sand through an hourglass. There were only so many places she could go. Her need for control was partnered with her fear of Jughead being incapable of reaching out to her first, especially considering that they had never been this close before. Simultaneously, they couldn't be further apart. They were at opposite ends of the same room, within touching distance but still beyond her reach.

She wanted to show him that she wasn't letting him push her away and that she would be there for him. It was her turn to prove to him that she needed him. It was the only thing she could do to placate the guilt. She should've just been forthright and informed him of her mother's proposal to her, Archie and Veronica's intent as well as the suspicions she had of her own. It would have been okay. They would have been okay. Now the waters were murkier and the fear of possibly losing him over something like this was threatening to pull her under, her breaths coming more painfully at the sheer thought of it.

The police tape was already ripped through when she got to the trailer and the key precisely where Archie had mentioned it to be. Betty entered with a soft knock on the door, not wanting to startle him. The place she walked into was in complete disarray, papers wiped carelessly onto the floor, the table flipped onto its side and pillows strewn everywhere but where they were supposed to be. It was a mess and amongst the rubble sat Jughead, back against the wall and facing the door just in case his father would abruptly storm in and tell him that it had all been a mistake, a case of poor judgment.

She looked out of place in her sparkling dress and formal heels standing amid the wreckage, like Dorothy in the middle of the tornado. She closed the door quickly as if she could hide all of this from the world, pretend it didn't happen if she only shut out reality fast enough. One hand was clasped over her mouth as she scanned the home. Her eyes finally landed on Jughead as she took inventory of him, the suit jacket that was missing, the undone buttons at the top of his shirt, the eschew beanie and most notably the redness and puffiness that marked his eyes.

"You would think he was a wanted terrorist," was the first heavily barbed comment he directed at her, not acknowledging her presence any further than that.

Betty shook her head in disbelief, a faint look of disgust present once she dropped her hand. "I can't believe Sheriff Keller ripped this place apart. It seems so unnecessary."

Jughead scoffed at her remark. "Not when it comes to F.P. apparently. He is, after all, a frequent offender." His observation was meant to be a callous one, but she caught the sudden sheen that came to his eyes.

He blinked them away almost angrily as Betty took the final few strides over to him, gingerly and somewhat unsurely lowering herself down onto her knees in front of him. If he hadn't been so upset he would have been able to appreciate the imagery it provided, the sight of her clad in nothing but shimmer before the twilight that circumscribed him.

"Juggy," Betty said his name as if was something fragile that was close to breaking, teetering on the edge.

"Don't you dare ask me how I'm doing," he lashed out acutely, his gaze cutting as it swept upwards. "Not after my best friend went behind my back to look for evidence against my dad who was then arrested without anyone so much as giving him the benefit of the fucking doubt." He inwardly cringed at the profanity that he always thought of as being indicative of the bad parts throughout his life, black and white snapshots with grainy images that would ultimately be considered not quite right to be put on display in the family photo album. "And not after it was brought to light that my girlfriend, the person I am closest to, had at least an inkling of all of this and decided not to share any of it with me."

He practically pushed the words through his teeth at her, each accusation a blow that made Betty feel even worse than she already did. She didn't vocalize any of her emotions because she recognized that this wasn't about her, even though her eyes were truly the windows into her inner workings. He saw clearly what his words were doing to her, felt it as her pain resonated within himself. It was hurting him to hurt her.

"I'm so sorry," Betty tried again. "I can't—"

"Stop, Betty." He didn't want to hear her apologize again. It would cause for most of his anger at her to evaporate because the rational part of him knew that she had never intended for one omission to spiral so out of control. It had been out of her hands and instead put in the relentless ones of Veronica and the good-willed ones of Archie.

A nod of her head was her only reply as she pressed her lips together and her eyes focused on a spot on the floor. He saw her hands curl into themselves, a reaction that had somehow gotten ingrained. Before her nails could dig in Jughead threw her a lifeline. "Tell me what's happening?"

Her hands uncurled and instead her fingers found the hemline of her skirt, which was now dramatically sprawled out around her. "They took your dad down to the station for questioning. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews followed him there," she quickly reassured him. "Evidently, Mrs. Andrews has a lawyer on speed dial in case F.P. needs it."

Betty rattled off all the facts she had managed to gather and Jughead found some relief in the fact that his father hadn't gone down there alone. He dragged a hand over his tired features. "It's this town. Inherently suspicious of everything and everyone that doesn't fit in between its gilded frame." He tugged roughly at his beanie in an attempt to straighten it. "Little does everyone know that it's just a veneer." He spoke almost melodically, spinning an image with his words that she could easily picture. She liked hearing him speak; it was then undeniably clear that his knack for writing was a natural one.

"I know what Archie and Veronica did is inexcusable and maybe even unforgivable," she started, clutching the fabric of her dress so tightly that it made a rustling sound. "But when they searched the place, they didn't find anything, Jug. There was no gun," she clarified for him. "So, isn't it odd that when the sheriff's department ransacks the place that they do find one?"

Betty saw his face scrunch up in concentration as he let the full weight of her words sink in. "It depends on how thorough they were, really," he answered her rhetorical question after a beat or two. He said the words calmly, detaching himself from the situation momentarily as he took on the role of investigator.

"Comprehensively," she answered confidently and hopefully. "Veronica might have initially gone there for herself, but Archie was there so he could make sure that if there was something to find he could prepare and soften the blow for—"

"Such a pal that Archie, isn't he," Jughead stopped her. "All done out of the purity and benevolence of his heart and loyalty to his supposed best friend."

"I ran into them when I was looking for you, at Pop's," Betty added. "They were going down to the station as well to come clean about what they did and subsequently didn't find. They can't keep your father there if Archie and Veronica's story contradicts their assumption, I don't think."

"It's the least they can do."

"I told them the same thing." Betty cautiously rested her gaze on him. "I know you're hurt. By all of us, by me. But I was genuine when I told you that I didn't know what Archie and Veronica were planning. They didn't include me, not after my mom not so subtly urged me and Veronica to help her and I told the both of them that I had already asked you whether you believed your dad was innocent and that I trusted you. I said no. The dinner was just a suspicion I had."

"You should've still told me," Jughead responded, even though the conviction was lackluster.

Betty shrugged up her shoulder. "You were so excited. You saw the dinner as something good. Your dad perceived the invitation as something genuine. I thought that maybe I was just being jaded by my mom's past actions. I wanted to be hopeful as well." An unladylike snort followed her last sentence, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling as she rolled them. "But I should have known better."

"We are better than our parents, Betty," he was quick to remind her, most of his animosity no longer aimed at her.

"Am I?"

"Yes," he decided for her. "I might be mad at you for not articulating your skepticism, but you were on my side, despite your mother's poor request and our friends' misgivings."

Betty finally let go of her skirt and instead placed her hands on the knees of the boy before her. "I am profoundly sorry, Juggy."

He nodded, watching as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and averted her eyes. "Just spit it out, Betts."

"At school, in the hall, you mentioned something about giving up the opportunity to move to Toledo… " she trailed off so he could fill in the blanks.

"My dad brought it up when he dropped us off. He's been trying and I offered to move back home. He came with the idea of getting everyone back together and moving to Toledo to reunite with my mom and Jellybean."

Betty put on a smile of encouragement, choosing to efface any personal feelings she had on the matter. "That's what you've wanted for a long time, isn't it?"

Jughead nodded, keeping his eyes on her hands as they applied light pressure to his knees. "It would mean though that I wouldn't see Archie anymore, not on a daily basis at least. I mean, don't get me wrong, being roommates with him leaves much to be desired…" He didn't finish his thought, focusing instead on the most important one as he leveled his eyes with hers. "It would also mean that I wouldn't see you anymore, every day."

Thinking that he was saying it for her benefit, Betty jumped in swiftly. "But we could call, text, visit."

Jughead shook his head with a slight huff of frustration at her self-effacement. "I would miss you too much. It would be insufferable, unbearable, just the thought," he expressed while placing his hands over hers.

"I don't want you to give up on a chance like that for me," Betty instructed him in the sternest voice she could muster because just the thought of not having him here was earthshattering as well as heart-shattering. "Because as much as I love you, Jughead, I'm not worth it." She realized her slip-up too late, the words already out. All she could do was recover with any leftover grace she managed to pull together. She freed her hands from underneath his, not looking at him as she was planning her escape. "Promise me you'll really think about it, taking into an account that I'm a non-factor, alright"

She scrambled upwards, her flaming cheeks the only remaining testimony of her profession. Jughead had registered the words she had said, the strong emotion she had confessed to, but he was currently paralyzed, unable to speak or move. The remainder of his anger dissipated and the feeling of warmth and affection intensified as they were brought to the forefront. They coursed through him, spreading through his body until it almost crushed him. There was nowhere left to expand to. Not from his spot on the floor.

"Here's the plan," Betty seized the opportunity, taking advantage of Jughead's atypical passiveness. "I told Archie to keep me updated." She placed her phone demonstratively on the countertop. "Until then, let's get this place cleaned up for when your dad gets back."

It was her zeal that made him stir from his daze. A faint smile appeared on his face as he remembered something that his mother always used to tell him. Something about how when you're in a relationship with someone, friendly or otherwise it's because you've accepted that the good parts of that person mean more to you than the bad parts. Everyone has both anyway.

He took her in as she kicked off her shoes and twirled her hair up into a messy bun of sorts. The moves were forcibly controlled and she only turned to look back at him when his silence had gone on for too long. "Unless you want to sleep or don't want me here right now?"

Before the doubt could eclipse the blue of her eyes like clouds appearing in a stark blue sky, he was on his feet. Spurred on by all that he was feeling and needed to express in one of the two ways he knew how to, he was in front of her within seconds. His hands landed on the countertop on either side of her, bracketing her in. It was a daring move, perhaps a bit too carnal and sudden than he had intended so he relented a little by wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"I think I love you too," he admitted impulsively. "I don't have much to compare it to, of course, but it feels like what I picture love to be. This weightlessness and lightheadedness th—"

Betty swept up by him and the sentiment and tenderness of it all blindly swung her arms around his neck and kissed him. He deepened the kiss instantly, pushing her back gently against the counter although she barely noticed.

"All's well that ends well," he quipped, a little more smug than was necessary, while she gasped for breath. She could only nod, now the one who was left in a frozen state. "And I'm not leaving," he committed openly to her. "Not to Toledo or anywhere."

She struggled to find the right words, debating whether she should try to dissuade him from the decision once more. "I'll tell you everything from now on," were the words she settled on instead, making him a promise of her own. "Perhaps even to the point of over-sharing."

"That's a risk I'll gladly take," he responded in a serious tone. His hands were still on her, one cupping her face as he placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long," he murmured against her skin.

"Sylvia Plath," Betty guessed, an automatic response as it was one of the games they sometimes played while in The Blue and Gold office, just the two of them.

It was a somewhat morbid and dark choice, wholly characteristic of him. Still, in the moment it was one of the most romantic things she had ever heard. The emotion was deeply embedded in the words and the effect was immediate as she felt herself swoon.

Jughead felt her knees buckle ever so slightly and he made sure he let her go little by little, not wanting to admit that he was feeling a little unsteady himself.

To blame were the weightlessness and lightheadedness that he had been aptly referring to.

#Bughead #riverdale #betty/jughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #fanfiction

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chocobard · 7 years

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A story between the reader and Ignis. The two of them and the guys are travelling Eos to fight off fiends and she is scared to tell Ignis she's always loved him and she jumps out of the Regalia and runs off due to having a panic attack. Ignis tried to find her, he reacts angrily but very concerned

I had to fill in the a few holes because I wasn’t entirely sure what you wanted. Sorry if this isn’t it, I can redo it if you’d like

This took three days to write and two hours to type.

tw: panic attack, tw: anxiety, tw: self deprication

-Alyssa

Prompto had fought you over the front seat. After three games of rock-paper-scissors he had begrudgingly clambered into the seat between Noctis and Gladio while you triumphantly slid into the passenger seat. The blonde grumbles something incomprehensible, annoyed in his current predicament and you can’t help but laugh. The others pile in, and Ignis revs the engine to life. With a sigh that slowly turns into a drawn out yawn you lean back into the leather seat of the Regalia, shifting until you’re completely comfortable. The hood of the convertible slowly draws up, early morning rain pattering upon the sleek black steel until it reaches a steady downpour. You turn the heat on as the car picks up speed, goosebumps still littering your skin after facing dawns first chill. The weather is dreary, fog settling over the land of Duscae like a weight climbing upon your shoulder. You rest your head against the window, closing your eyes as the cars movement mixed with the heat blowing against your body and the cool glass against your head combat the anxiety bubbling deep within your chest.

Another grumble erupts from the back seat as Prompto leans forward, peering into the front seat, “So… Where’s the next hunt?” Miraculously, he had ceased his bitching long enough to voice the question.

“Uh,” you rack your brain momentarily though it only spurs another panic and you quickly stop, “I forgot the Outposts name. Sorry.” You smile awkwardly, scratching at the back the back of your neck. He huffs a laugh sitting up once again to scoot back into his place between Gladio and Noctis.

“Good thing you’re not giving directions then,” Gladio jests chuckling as he reaches over the seat to ruffle your hair. You squeak in surprise, swatting at his hand before sinking further into your seat. His laugh becomes more throaty as he pulls his giant hand back into ‘his area’.

“The next hunt is located just outside of Taelpar,” Ignis chimes his centering in on the road and never once deviating his gaze from it, “There’s been recurrent sightings of Niflheim ships just behind the local motel.”

“Wait, MTs are just- what? Hanging out there?” Prompto raises a wry eyebrow, confusion shining across his face.

“To get our attention,” Noctis blurts and your jump in your seat as Prompto startles as well. You had both assumed he had once again dozed off, what with his face pressed into the palm of his hand the whole ride. The blonde nods as the other begins stretching- to his best ability in the backseat- with a deep yawn making you once again think he had been half asleep this entire conversation. “How much longer Iggy?”

“As long as it takes, sleepyhead,” You joke yawning yourself as he lets out tsking noise, ignoring Gladiolus’ remark about the pot calling the kettle black. You settle back into your seat, but the anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the day climbs back out of the recess’ of your mind and slides back into the pit of your stomach, swimming throughout your body and singing it’s erratic song at the top of it’s lungs all throughout your veins. Once again you find yourself leaning against the window, seeking solace against the cool glass. It wasn’t that you were scared of fighting, you had fought before. In fact it was one of the responsibilities you had learned even long before this trip had been proposed, back when you were eleven years old.

You had been trained in combat just as all the royal staff was, though your training had been the only time you had interacted with Gladiolus prior to this ‘road trip’. The only one of the boys you were familiar with was Ignis, and that had been when you were the King’s royal adviser.

Originally the palace staff had questioned the position, since you were so young. However, Regis had chosen you openly as your grandmother originally held the role. She had to retire at the ripe age of sixty after her mind had begun deteriorating, before she had stepped down you had been alongside her. Constantly learning the role of the royal adviser as it had been passed down during the generations, only skipping your mother as she had you at the young age of twenty leaving her no time for other duties. It was a surprise to the entire staff, including yourself, when he had sought you out the day your grandmother was to step down and asked you to take the job personally.

Everyone was hesitant, but after you successfully scheduled his day while balancing being a kid they were all quick to shove their feet back in their mouths. It was in that moment they all realized sometimes younger people did have the best ideas- even if it was albeit weird coming from a ‘child’. When he had demanded you go with the boys, saying his second adviser would take care of him (you never interacted with the other man much) you could do nothing to object. He was your king and even though you weren’t exactly familiar with the prince, only speaking to him once in passing, you readily accepted your position to go.

“Oh shut up,” Noctis huffs, his little shove to your shoulder pulling you from your thoughts as you turn to see his playful glare. Though you do note he does nothing to deny the accusation, only furthering your point as he takes to leaning his head on Prompto’s shoulder. The blonde does nothing to object as silence settles once more.

Just as you feel yourself drifting you notice the sun dipping, slowly, indicating just how long you all had actually been driving. Not that your muscles hadn’t already given it away.

“Think we’ll make it before sunset, Iggy?” Gladio inquires sending a pointed look in the sun’s direction. Ignis waves a hand in dismissal, calming the others worry as he applies more pressure to the gas pedal.

Something about this moment strikes you, vomit climbing its way up your throat forcing you to swallow it back down. You’re not sure what it is about the inevitable night that sends your mind racing once more. Your heart bounces against your rib-cage, and suddenly the steel doors of the Regalia are closing in on you. Doing anything to dull your panic you shift your gaze to Ignis for some sort of solace. When nothing comes of it, you start to think of everything to pass your mind lately. Your fear of the MT’s, of the future. Your confession that you had been stewing for months.

Cliche as it was, you’ve wanted to profess your undying love to the man beside you for months now- to scream your fears to his awaiting ears, scream them to the heavens. You’re scared of your feelings, and the upcoming battle, and the others to come further down the line. The world is closing in on you, and you’re just trying to look out at it. You shift your gaze to the passing scenery trying to put focus on the harsh rain outside, but all you can find your mind resting on is the returning bile. You’re crying now, tears staining your cheeks and before you even realize what your body is doing you’re flinging yourself out of the speeding Regalia.

“(Y/N)!”

Rolling painfully across the pavement you asses the damage, your arm throbs as you grasp it with your free hand. You find yourself stumbling down a slope after you see the car park off in the distance. You’re running, clutching to your arm like a lifeline as you zigzag across the muddy Duscae terrain. All your instincts are screaming for you to run, to leave behind the group you find yourself intruding on. This trip had been a mistake, the king shouldn’t have sent you off with them. You were just in the way, an intruder in an already close knit group. You were just a mess, hopeless and helpless, riddled with anxiety and more of a nuisance than an asset. You didn’t belong.

You can barely see, or run, at this point. Your tears have blurred your vision and the sobs leave you winded. Panting, you stop, gasping for air as you gulp up air. In this moment you’re completely defenseless, the scared broken child from when you were eleven shinning through. The person you had always been finally rising from the back of your mind to state ‘here I am’.

You nearly scream when hands land on your shoulders, spinning you around. You’re choking on your dying sobs as you’re pulled flush against another’s firm chest. Their chin comes to rest atop your head, fingers slowly threading through your damp hair. The warmth radiating through their clothes into your sad, and now shivering, body.

“Why?” Ignis mumbles, burying your face into your hair to reassure himself you’re still there. He had nearly thought you were dead after ditching the car in such a fashion. Only letting himself feel relief when he spotted you running away like a bat out of hell.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup crying harder as you hide your face in his shoulder, tears mingling with the rain left on his jacket. He grasps your shoulders once more, pulling back to eye you wearily through his spectacles.

“You’re apologizing to me for nearly killing yourself?” He chastises, “(Y/N), you jumped out of a moving vehicle. You could have died.” Ignis is searching your eyes now to see if you too had realized that.

“I’m sorry,” you cry once more slinking back into him. He’s crying now too, his anger dwindling into fear.

“You scared me half to death,” his voice wavers as he breaths in your scent. If you hadn’t survived, this conversation wouldn’t be happening. Instead of inhaling your scent in relief it would be him memorizing it and filing it away one last time. He was afraid too, but he was merely scared of saying goodbye, “If you were panicking, you could’ve just said so. I would have pulled over.”You clench your fist, sniffling as he pulls you closer, tucking you against him as if to shield you from the worlds horrors.

“Iggy…” You trail off, clutching your eyes shut as you lean further into him.

“I mean it,” he asserts looking down at you once more, “You should know better than to scare those who love you.” Ignis scolds sighing again. But this time, the sigh is exhaling his fears and it takes yours with it as he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

#Ignis Stupeo Scientia #ignis x reader #ffxv #ffxv headcanons #ffxv headcannons #ffxv imagines #ffxv x reader #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety #tw: self deprecation

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