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f1version · 4 months

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SILENT NIGHT ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader ( she/her )

summary: Loss doesn’t need to be lonely, grief doesn’t need to be an enemy.

warnings/info: hurt/comfort, mentions of death — loss of a loved one, grief, crying, hugs/cuddling, the internal conflict of loosing someone during the holidays.

word count: 1.2k words

note: the 27th of december has not been the happiest time of the year for me in a while, so yes, this is kind of self-indulgent. this is also for those who have lost someone during the holidays (or ever). i know how painful it can be to put on that fake smile, to force yourself, but please don’t. cry all you want, feel all you want, don’t destroy yourself for things out of your control or that are no longer under it. you are not alone, you are loved and cared for, always remember that. ♡

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 27th.

Humans are not forever.

It’s evident, plain to see, to experience, but then why love so deeply we yearn for infinity? Care so strongly while knowing its definability? It’s what makes you human, everyone says—loving people who give so much to remember, getting your heart broken by them because, at some point, it’ll be your turn to break one, two, a hundred hearts.

They say a heart that's broken is a heart that's been loved, so you’re glad your heart’s broken. Even when mom’s not here to swipe your tears, hold you close, or tell you how to fix it—when she's not here to argue, talk it out, or stay silent—you're thankful she got to see you grow, see you fall, stand up, and succeed. She saw you fall in love and loved the man who held your hand.

Said man must be near—Charles must be somewhere near; you can hear heavy breaths leaving his lips every now and then, something he does when he’s overthinking. It’s strange, you think. Perhaps he’s become such a recognizable character in your life that it’s instinct to hear it, or, more realistically, the small sound assumes spotlight because of the silence embracing your apartment. You don’t know, and you don’t think further about it. It’s just Charles.

You think about the time lost, not knowing how long you’ve been here, cuddled on the beige couch in your living room as memories of your mom submerge your mind. You stare at the half-drunk cup of hot chocolate settled on the coffee table; it seems cold now. That’s a way to ensure time has passed.

Your slight change of focus leaves the dissipation of heavy breaths unnoticed. Now you hear their replacement, gentle steps that grow louder until they stop before you, crouching until green eyes meet yours. Charles looks beautiful. The dim lights of the fake fireplace and Christmas tree caress his features. His eyes don’t look as green, but a warmer color. He smiles close-mouthed, taking your hand in his, and you let yourself smile back.

He doesn’t talk, understanding you well enough to know you don't want to talk at all. His thumb starts making shapes on your skin, memories taking you back to that night a year ago, when Charles drove you home from the hospital, his hand never leaving yours, doing the same shapes he’s doing now. You remember how, upon arriving, he stayed next to you until you finished one glass of water, then made sure you dined, how he helped you shower, and the moment he cuddled you in bed while you cried, muttering sweet nothings in your ear, his voice quivering because he had been crying too—he had known your mom for eight years by then. He called Andrea the following day, asking to be instructed in soup making and taking care of the two of you all day.

A lot of those days were faint, blurry memories, but if there's one thing you are certain of, it's that Charles never left.

Your eyes travel around the room, landing on a photo on the wall. It’s Christmas 2021, you and your family are all warped up in each other—it’s one of the pictures your dad lent you early this year, once hung up on your mother’s office. Next to it is one of a younger Charles with your mom and dad. It was taken a little over six years ago, the day you told them you were dating. It makes you smile. Your mom always loved Charles; even before you started dating, he was her favorite friend of yours, always so kind and funny.

You’re about to travel back in time when there’s a small tug on your hand, turning your attention. Charles is moving around, sitting down on the floor. He looks up at you, then at the picture, he smiles saddened, the beautiful memory stinging as much as it does to you.

For the first time, you feel the need to say something, to explain yourself. But not knowing what to say, you say the simplest: “I miss her so much.”

He leans down to kiss your hand. “I know, baby, I know."

Silence falls over you once again, and the necessity to talk vanishes. You look back at the gallery, now focusing on the same type of picture as before, but it's a younger you with Charles, his mom, and brothers; there’s a bed between you and Charles, Hervé Leclerc smiling at the camera. There's writing on its frame: May 2017. You look at Charles, a small tear tempting to fall but a smile on his lips. You lean down to kiss his cheek, letting him know that it’s alright to cry. He brings you closer, kissing your lips—small pecks over and over again.

He stops, briefly glancing at the other two photos hanging on the wall, one of Charles' family and another of the two of you, promise rings on your hands, smiling at the camera. You think about your families, about you, and about how it's been a year since your mom left, and you still want to tear the world apart. A newfound feeling spreads across your body: guilt. Guilt of spending your night consumed by dread and grief, letting Charles fall into it.

You hate this feeling.

Charles let’s go of your face, cupping your hands together with his. You know he sensed the change; his big green eyes are asking questions you don’t want to answer. You want everything to stop hurting, the memories to stay happy, and the bittersweet taste on your tongue to be eradicated.

He waits, and you break. “I want it to stop,” you mumble. “I want the pain to go away; I don’t want to think about it. I want to go back and not feel like I did on the 24th, like I wanted to run away and cry in my room for hours. I don’t know how to deal with this, Charles; this is too much. I can’t, can't do it.”

The buildup is too much, your breathing is heavy and fast. Charles hurries towards you, his hands hovering over your frame. “No, non, bébé, I’m here; you know I’m here, just like you are always here for me,” he hesitates, but charges through. “Someone once told me that it’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to cry, to, to grieve. She told me: Grief is part of love, never hold back from loving.”

And you don’t know what to do or say. He’s cupping your face, looking at you so lovingly as he continues, “You told me that, chérie, so don’t hold back; even if she’s gone, keep loving her." He says, “You will slowly let go of the loss, I promise, I know how it is, just never feel guilty for loving her.”

It occurs to you at that moment that you haven’t cried in weeks, tears forbidden by a nonexistent rule, so when the first sob leaves your lips, there’s no regret over it. Tear after tear, sob after sob, your heart grieves.

Charles crawls up the sofa, bringing you to his arms, your head now on his chest, wetting the soft material of his shirt. You are about to care when his hand brushes your hair and back, and there’s no use in stopping it.

“Thank you,” you say between sobs.

“I love you,” he answers, knowing you do too.

i miss my mom so much

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah @nouvellevqgue @iloveyou3000morgan @carsgovroomm @goldenalbon @doofenshmirtzevil-inc . . . add yourself here

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exosupport · 5 months

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ahhhhh. okay, so i’m a fictive of a childhood oc — a player character from a fantasy mmo loosely based on the host around the time we originally played the game. i’ve grown since then (ie. i’m not ten hdjdhdj) but… i guess my issue is that i miss my teachers.

see, my “homeroom” teacher was like a mother to me and my classmates, since my canon is set in a magic boarding school for the first couple of arcs. her husband, who was kinda. like a backup homeroom teacher? in a way? (we got sorted into “schools” based on the type of magic we were best at, and he taught the one i studied as a secondary discipline.) but he was like a father to me, creating a sort of family unit between us students and our professors.

the thing is that, before the player ever logs into the game, my homeroom teacher is already dead. her husband, wracked by grief, is already on the run, on a quest to resurrect her, and hurts a lot of people in the process (and tries to awaken a minor god who, last time he was fucked with, destroyed my teachers’ homeworld, and likely wouldn’t’ve stopped at a single world if fucked with again).

so, the first arc revolves around… tracking my pseudo-father down and killing him, with the help of his brother. which i remember helping to do, along with an older student (she was in her mid-20s, i was around fifteen or sixteen).

and it’s just… hard. i miss the kind, protective woman who raised me from the time i was eight years old. i miss the good, gentle man who became a father to me, before he fell so deeply into despair and desperation. i miss the comforting knowledge that i wasn’t alone in my complex grief for a man who was gone weeks before he died, because he had already lost his mind, morals, and sense of reason when his wife passed. and now i’m just… alone.

i can deal with not having magic, i guess, but now i’m grieving emotional bonds with people who, in this world, are just. characters. from a kids mmo, no less. like, i’m fully aware of how silly it sounds. but it still leaves a pit in my stomach and makes me long for strong arms around me.

…i don’t know how to close this out. thanks for offering a place to vent about this stuff. it’s really nice to be able to get it off my chest. sorry for rambling, haha ^^;

-hazel

Oh that sounds really difficult to go through, you have my condolences. Relationships like that can be incredibly complexed and you have a lot of feelings to sort out. Please know that you aren't alone, many have gone through similar situations and can relate to the emotions you're feeling.

[ID: A banner with a Winnie The Pooh and Pokemon theme. It says, "You're not alone" in a decorative font. The background is colored with a blue to green gradient with the texture of cartoon apples over it. There's two images, one at the either side of the banner.

The image on the left has Pooh bear, a yellow stuffed toy bear wearing a red tshirt, hugging piglet, a small stuffed toy of a pig. There are stars drawn around them and above them is the word "hug" with a heart next to it. They are both smiling.

The one on the right has Snorlax, a blue and vaguely bear-shaped pokemon smiling widely and giving the viewer a thumbs-up with its claws. End ID]

#vent #death tw #ask to tag

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mrsstruggle · 2 years

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The Lost Child - Chapter 17 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she living in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Torture/Drugs/ Violence/Injury/Death, Character Held Captive, Use of the Word "Crazy", Mentions of Grief/Sadness, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff, & More To Come!

Previous Pairings: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Words: 2.3k

Note: I am posting every 3-4 days!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story. This also loosely follows Teen Wolf Season 4.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

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It’s been several hours since Y/N watched some woman get shot and killed right in front of her eyes. No one ever went to collect her body. It even stayed there as Rumlow tortured her.

After Rumlow found out that Y/N is the only person that can break the block in her mind, he thought the only way she’d break it down is if her mind was too weak to keep it up. While the nightmares and the fake memories affected her, they didn’t affect her enough. The thing he knows the most is physical torture, so that’s what he decided to do.

He chained her up to the wall and pushed enough drugs into her system that it would take her hours before they’d finally fade from her bloodstream and allow her to heal. He used all the tools he had. He used knives to cut her deep enough to hurt but not deep enough to kill. He electrocuted her, beat her, whipped her, and not once did he ever break her.

It wasn’t until Rumlow stepped out of the room did someone give him a better idea. “This is never going to work. She will never break and soon all the pain you have inflicted will heal. I would know.” Rumlow looks to his right to see Gerard Argent staring at the beaten girl through the one-way mirror. “Physical pain will heal but psychological pain will last forever.”

“We already tried that. It didn’t work.” Rumlow informs him, walking over to Gerard. Hydra was currently working out of Gerard’s basement. He has rooms capable of holding Y/N and he’s the reason they found her in the first place. It’s also a place that no one would ever think of because everyone thinks he’s still some sick old man who has no connection to Hydra.

“Have you ever heard of white torture?” Gerard questions.

“I don’t think so,” Rumlow wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not but he answered anyway.

“It’s also known as white room torture. It’s a technique that aims for sensory deprivation and isolation. We put her in an all-white cell to deprive her of color. We put her in white clothes and we only feed her unseasoned white food. The room is soundproof and lights cover the ceiling to not allow shadows. Let’s cut off all her senses then we’ll drive her to her breaking point.” Gerard explains.

“How do we do that?”

“Usually you wait a few months or a few years until they drive themself crazy but we won’t need to wait that long. I believe you still have copies of all the videos you took of her before. There’s a certain video that I’m certain will break her if we play it over and over again.” Gerard smiles sinisterly as he continues to watch the girl he plans to destroy. Stiles took his granddaughter’s life and he plans to watch Y/N take Stiles’s.

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“You’re lying.” Stiles takes a step back from Derek with a confused look on his face. Y/N has to be here. There is no other possible answer.

“I’m not.” Why would Derek lie? Why would he ever lie about his girlfriend being missing?

They turn towards the jet’s entrance as everyone enters the quinjet. Steve walks in first carrying Peter bridal-style in his arms. They all have sorrowful and defeated looks on their faces. Stiles watches as everyone walks in but there was no Y/N. He knew by the looks they were giving him that Derek wasn’t lying.

“I-I don’t understand…” Stiles mumbles under his breath as Scott walks up to him. She was supposed to be here.

“We looked everywhere but she’s not here. She was here at one point but she’s not here anymore.” Scott quietly tells Stiles.

Stiles's mind is running. He slowly sits down on the seat behind him as his mind blocks out the noise around him. The only thing he can think about is that his sister is gone. She wasn’t here. They should’ve left sooner. There’s a part of his mind telling him to yell at Steve that if he would’ve believed them sooner they could’ve gotten her in time, but yelling at him won’t change anything.

Scott knows Stiles has completely shut down. Usually, he would’ve yelled, he would’ve gone up to Hydra’s base himself to make sure she really isn’t there but he has completely shut down. Scott wishes Stiles was yelling at them because it’s better than silence.

The jet ride back to Beacon Hills is spent in complete silence. No one knows what to say and even if they did, no one wanted to speak. Everyone is hurt and upset for different reasons. Tony is upset that he didn’t get to reunite with his daughter, but he’s glad they found Peter. The rest of the Avengers feel the same way. Derek is upset and angry that his girlfriend is being held captive by a terrorist organization. Scott and Stiles feel the same way. Kira and Malia are upset that their friend is missing. Peter Hale would never admit it but he feels the same way.

Steve slowly lowers the jet as they arrive back at the lake house. The sun is now up and he can see Stiles’s friends running towards them from Lydia’s place across the lake. Just another reminder that they didn’t find Y/N.

When the jet lands the Avengers are the first ones out. Bucky carries Peter out and towards his room. Tony follows him so he can stay with Peter until he wakes up. The others head straight toward the living room ready to think of something else. They’re frustrated and tired but sleep is the last thing on their minds.

The pack is the last off the jet. Malia, Kira, and Peter step out and walk toward Lydia, Mason, and Liam who are running toward them. Derek steps off and walks towards the woods that surround them in hopes of collecting his emotions before going back inside. Stiles and Scott are the last ones off with the door closing behind them.

Stiles is looking at the ground as he feels a body collide with his. Arms wrap around him in a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry you didn’t find her but we will find her,” Lydia whispers in his ear. Tears are quietly falling down her face.

Stiles doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he starts to sob at Lydia’s words and comforting hug. He doesn’t know how he was able to hold it together until now. There were several moments on the ride home where he thought he was going to break but he didn’t. Now, in Lydia’s embrace, he can’t seem to keep it together.

“What am I supposed to tell my dad?” Stiles sobs out.

“I don’t know but we’ll figure it out together,” Lydia assures him, her hand rubbing up and down his back in comfort. Scott and the rest of the pack standing nearby decide to go inside so they aren’t just watching Stiles cry.

His sobs start to slow down until they become sniffles before they stop completely. He steps back from Lydia and wipes away the leftover tears on his face as Lydia wipes her own away, “I’m okay now. Thank you for that.”

“Always.” She smiles sweetly at him, “You go inside and I’ll go get Derek.” Stiles goes into the house as Lydia walks to the part of the woods she saw Derek disappear into. She walks for about a minute or two until she stumbles upon him sitting on a fallen tree trunk and staring at his hands. She silently sits down next to him knowing that he’ll talk when he wants to.

After a few minutes in silence, Derek clears his throat before speaking, “I’ll be back in a minute. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I think Y/N would want me to make sure that you’re okay.” Lydia quietly tells him. She turns to look at him and, for the first time in her life, she watches as a tear falls from one of his eyes. Judging by the obvious wetness on his face, that wasn’t the first tear to fall either.

Derek clears his throat again before standing up, “Let’s get back to the others. We need to find her.”

“Derek!” Lydia runs after him as he walks back towards the lake house, “You don’t have to pretend to be fine around us. We know you’re hurting just like the rest of us. Blocking us out isn’t going to help anything.”

“I’ll be fine when we find Y/N.” Derek states.

“Derek, we can–”

“Drop it.” Derek cuts her off, quickening his pace towards the lake house.

As they walk inside, they notice everyone but Tony is gathered in the living room. “What’s our next move?” Natasha asks, watching Derek and Lydia enter the room.

“A few of us should rest up then fly back to the base and collect as much information as possible. I’d call Fury to send a team over but I don’t trust him at the moment.” Steve states.

“I’ll go.” Bucky volunteers. He wants to feel useful. He also knows that he knows Hydra the most and he would be the one to find anything that Hydra is hiding.

“Okay, Nat, Bruce, and Sam will go with you,” Steve informs them.

“What about us? What do we need to do?” Scott questions.

“Maybe you should give them the videos,” Sam suggests. “They were the ones to figure out where Hydra’s base is and they know Y/N better than any of us. If there’s anything useful on those things, they’d be the ones to find it.”

Steve thinks for a moment. They were right about the base but he still doesn’t fully trust them. What if not giving them to them makes them not find Y/N in time? What if they give them to them and they miss something important? “Fine, but those videos don’t leave this house. I think it would be best if we watch them together so we can all look for something. We know Hydra best and they know Y/N.”

Sam runs off to grab the tapes from upstairs. He’s barely gone a minute before he runs back downstairs with a laptop and a hard drive, “I’m going to warn you now that the stuff on these tapes will probably haunt you for the rest of your lives.”

Scott turns to his pack, “Liam and Mason, go home. We’ll call you when we need you.” They didn’t need to be told twice. They want Y/N back like the rest of the pack but they don’t want to watch videos that will mentally scar them forever. “The rest of you can stay if you want or you can go if you think it’ll be too much.” Everyone stays where they are.

“These aren’t in order so we’ll just go from where I left off for now.” Sam states. He turns on the tv in the living room and quickly connects it to the laptop in his hands. He clicks on the video he stopped at and watches as it pulls up on the tv.

The video was clearly taken from a security camera. It appears to be a video of a younger Y/N in a holding cell. It doesn’t look like the same cell where Nat found Y/N’s bracelet. Y/N seems to be sleeping quietly on a cot in the corner of the room. They watch as they wait to see what happens next.

After a few more minutes of silence, an alarm from outside Y/N’s cell can be heard going off. They watch as she slowly wakes up at the sound. They can hear shouting and gunshots but they don’t know what’s going on since it’s not happening within the camera's view. They watch as Y/N gets off the cot and huddles behind it in the corner of the wall.

The alarms and the gunshots continue to go off as Y/N stays hidden. A few minutes later, a large door can be heard opening and light shining through a door frame appears on the edge of the video. They watch as a young woman and man run into the room and towards Y/N. The woman seems to crouch down and talk quietly with Y/N as the man watches on. She appears to gain Y/N’s trust and lets the woman grab her from behind the cot and hold her in her arms.

Scott can feel Derek stiffen next to him as they watch the woman and man leave the room with Y/N. Their faces are hard to completely make out because they’re never fully turned toward the camera and they seem to be werewolves in their beta form. After they exit the room, the video stops.

“Now we know who took her,” Natasha mumbles in shock.

“You can’t really make out their faces though,” Bruce states.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone takes in the video before Derek grabs his uncle’s neck and pins him against the wall next to him. His claws and fangs are out as he looks at Peter with betrayal in his eyes.

“What the hell?!” Scott exclaims, confused about what just happened.

“How long have you kept this from me?!” Derek growls at Peter, putting more pressure on his neck.

“I didn’t know it was her until we started looking at the files. I never knew what happened to her after we left.” Peter struggles a little against Derek’s hand.

“What’s he talking about?” Steve asks.

“The people in the video,” Derek continues to glare at Peter, “it was him and my mom.”

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@vicmc624 @mrspetxrs @freyathehuntress @fheresm @stefans-wife @taketimeandappreciate @youralphawolf72 @ornella0910 @shedsblood @ts1mp0ne @beautifulgrungekid @danielle-leah1997 @itmejado @ladyjenjay @ivettt @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @darkenwolfie @lokiandbuckywife @xx-narcissa @elite4cekalyma @thecrazytealady @misshale21 @cevans-winchester @fayhay14 @wtfcas @spencerreidsbookclub @hinata7346 @randomhoex @mirakeul @n1ght5h4d3-24 @belovacc @speedy-object-dream @pepelachanel @dark-night-sky-99 @xoxoloverb @llamaproblem @emily-roberts @me-unintentionally @inyourmomsworld @depressedsleepysloth @allthingsavenger-y @missnyxsblog

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stellocchia · 3 years

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Since people often seem to think that Tommy’s and Dream’s dynamic is something that was established in season 2 and sorta came out of nowhere before that, I thought I’d finally take a look at the evolution of it throughout season 1.

From here on out, of course, I’ll be talking exclusively about the characters. It is also to be kept in mind that season 1 was a LOT less scripted, so there may be streams and moments that I leave out as they don’t seem to be too impactful or they lack canonicity. So sadly the whole stream where they build Church Prime that has Dream comparing himself to God for 2 hours has to go...

This will undoubtedly be an EXTREMELY long one, so be prepared for it...

Let’s go step by step in chronological order, shall we?

THE DISCS WAR PREQUEL

By now a lot of people know that the Disc Saga wasn’t actually started by Tommy, but here’s a refresher anyway: Ponk started it off by pranking Sapnap’s base, in retaliation Sapnap burned down Ponk’s lemon tree. With this Ponk allied himself with Alyssa and the two started a war against Sapnap.

Later Tommy joins the server. Tommy obtains the first netherite cheestplate in the server and it’s promptly stolen by Sapnap. Later again Sapnap uses the netherite chestplate to blackmail Tommy into joining his fight against Ponk and Alyssa. Tommy just refuses ang gets his armour back, but he considers Sapnap’s offer because of: Alyssa setting him on fire and Tubbo (who was mostly neutral but leaning towards Ponk and Alyssa) had made him loose his stuff the day before.

Dream arrived then to stop the fighting, but Sapnap and Tommy decided to kill him instead (non-canonically of course). Sapnap killed him twice and Tommy once. In retaliation Dream stole Cat and Mellohi. Sapnap stole one of the disks back and then they retrived the other one and Tommy hid them near his base.

So what does this tell us? Tommy most definitely wasn’t the one who instigated the conflict, nor the one who escalated it. YET, he was the only one Dream focused on. And remember, while a proper coherent storyline didn’t exist back then we know that the wars were at least somewhat scripted (thanks to cc!Dream telling us so on the Eboys Podcast). They also kept their characters characterization pretty consistent throughtout, which means we had the first hints of their dynamic all the way back here.

ESCALATION OF THE DISC WAR

(From Tommy’s main channel it’s: “Dream is a Psychopath.”)

Everything could have been over then, but Dream was still pissed he lost, so he removed all the floring of Tommy’s base (escavating all the dirt from in front of it) in order to find the disks and take them back. At this point, after once again stealing the disks, Dream asked Tommy for his netherite chestplate (again, only one on the server at the time) in exchange for them. Also, an actual conversation they had:

Tommy: “Dream! Was this you that destroyed my entire base and re-named the sign to ‘BitchBoy enterprise?!”

Dream: “I didn’t touch the sign. I didn’t destroy your base either it’s just the f- the dirt” (note: as I said before, all the dirt was removed, but, hey, he didn’t touch the chickens and the carrot farm!)

Also:

Tommy:“Dream, you removed the ENTIRE floor of my base”

Dream: “It’s YOUR fault. It’s your fault...”

T: “How is it MY fault?!”

D: “‘Cause you hid the disks!”

T: “Yeah, because they’re MY disks!”

D: “You hid the disks and I’ve taken them back, okay?”

If this doesn’t sound like the beginning of the Obsession Arc, I don’t know what does!

But, in all seriousness, even back then for c!Dream the key of everything in the server was Tommy, though at the time he was just “the reason for conflict”. Still it’s pretty obvious that the disk conflict could have ended before it started if Dream didn’t decide to escalate things (though, as it’s obvious by the conversation, he blames his own actions on Tommy as we see him do in later seasons).

Anyone wondering about the gravity of Tommy killing Dream once non-canonically before this: In this video Dream kills both Tommy and Tubbo twice in the first 10 minutes. Yeah, he’s not any better. Btw, this is the video with the fight they then mimicked in the finale and they actually loose this one as well.

Tommy: “What is your obsession with this disks? Why don’t you just give them back?”

Dream: “No because I can get something in return for them, I don’t care about the disks”

Oh what simpler times when blackmail was just simple old blackmail to obtain material possessions...

Btw, this one ended with basically a double scam where Dream gave them fake disks and they logged off with both the fake disks and the netherite chestplate.

(Main channel: “mission: kill dream (FINALE)”)

Tubbo: “Please do not tell me you have sentimental attachment to the bullshit disks...”

Early theme of attachment back in season 1. Either way Tommy has been portrayed as an extremely sentimental character that develops attachments scarily fast from all the way back in season 1. C!Dream’s idea of him he expresses in the finale isn’t born from nothing.

Anyway, Tubbo and Tommy use the composter glitch to find Dream’s base to try and get back the disks, but they aren’t there, so they end up going for the original exchange, this time with no scamming included. Tommy get’s his disks back, while Dream gets Tommy’s netherite chestplate. Just to point out: at this point Dream was the one completely at fault. Tommy was dragged into a war he wasn’t involved in and yet was the sole one to be punished for it and Dream couldn’t just accept a defeat so heavily griefed Tommy’s base and stole back HIS posssession. Dream is the main instigator here, yet he blames it ENTIRELY on Tommy from the start. Literally their dynamic started off pretty f*cked.

Still, since Tommy didn’t want to keep risking loosing stuff to Dream for the disks he decided to make an ender chest for himself. He gets some blaze powder and ender pearls from Punz in exchange from an apple (that was too sweet not to include) and then, when it comes to getting the obsidian is when Dream realizes what he’s been doing. You’d think he’d be fine with it considering they already had a “fair” exchange (aka Dream’s blackmailing had been succesful), but nope. He hunts down both Tommy and Tubbo, but fails in killing them and they manage to put the disks away safely.

L’MANBURG BEGINNING

As we know Wilbur founded L’Manburg and Dream did not like that, so he declared war on them. Here’s the speach:

“Tommy! (pause) And Wilbur and the rest of L’ManChildburg, we are at war. There is no mercy. We’ve burnt down Tubbo’s house. We’ve planted tnt cannons around your land. We have cobblestone walled the outside and we shot ONE warning shot inside your walls ans an explosion and we have NO MERCY! NO MERCY FOR YOU! Do you understand? We will come! We’ll burn down your houses, we will kill anything inside your walls and we’ll take back the land that is rightfully ours if you do not surrender. I want to see WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS OUTSIDE YOUR BASE BY TOMORROW, AT DAWN, OR YOU’RE DEAD!”

So, a couple of things to unpack here:

1) Dream first and foremost singles out Tommy who, if you all remember, was NOT the leader of L’Manburg. He was barely Wilbur’s right hand man and had only been confirmed as such recently at that point. He is not the leader and YET, in how the speach is enunciated it’s obvious that it’s directed at him specifically.

2) For anyone wondering if Dream could be considered a villain back in season one: so far the people from L’Manburg had done nothing but frolic in the flowers. They were a group of pacifists that refused to use any armour and Dream’s reaction to them is to kill them all and burn anything they built. And he’s doing all this because he thinks he’s entitled to all of the land in the smp and even something as small as og L’Manburg had no right to exist free of his rule.

(Always from the main channel: “Doomsday.”)

Two important things for their relationship happen here: Dream deciding, out of everyone, to kill Tommy specifically in the final control room and the duel (or more so the result of the duel).

It is something back then no-one wondered about, but why would Dream, the leader of the Greater Dream SMP, go after the second in command instead of the leader? Possibly for the same reason he singled out Tommy in the declaration of war? Possible foreshadowing of their future dynamic?

Also, may I mention that Dream was the one to add the condition that, on top of not getting independence for L’Manburg, Tommy had to give up one of the disks (mellohi) if he lost? And Dream being the one to mention it is the reason why Tommy knew they were valuable to him in the first place. It’s the reason why Tommy proposed the deal of his disks for L’Manburg independence (which worked, which tells us a whole lot about when Dream’s obsession withe the disks started. Man was willing to take an L to have THAT sort of control over Tommy already in season one)

POGTOPIA

Jump to when Tommy and Wilbur get exiled. A lot happens here, but, for the function of this analysis, I’ll only be talking about what pertains to Dream’s and Tommy’s relationship.

So, at the beginning of exile Dream offers his support for Pogtopia leaving a chest specifically for Tommy (once again, not Wilbur, the leader, but Tommy. He also gives Tommy a lot more stuff then Techno who was arguably a much more valuable asset). In the chest there was: a full set of netherite armour, 3 stacks of ender pearls, an enchanment table, a netherite sword, Dream’s crossbow (”Definitely not penis”), a stack of golde apples, 1 enchanted golden apple, 1 stack of diamonds, 17 obsidian, 3 potions of strenght, a stack of steak and a book written by Dream called “Tyrant” which, again, is addressed soley to Tommy. (In the book he basically says that he doesn’t like Schlatt and that he’s only going to help from the shadows because he can’t directly involve himself).

Now, for the standards of the time, that was A LOT of stuff. Dream clearly wasn’t half-assing his support to Tommy there (I’d say to “Pogtopia” but, again, it was all specifically for Tommy). He keeps up his help when he intervenes in favour of Tommy in the Battle of the Lake (from the vods channel: “TommyInnit, Dream & Technoblade TEAM UP (dream smp war)”). Before that however he also helps Tommy to lava cast (or attempt to) the Eiffel Tower (built for Karl’s and Sapnap’s honeymoon). For this battle Dream also gives Mars (Sapnap’s and George’s fish) to Tommy (together with quite a few more ender pearls). Their relationship up until this point seems to have improved quite a bit with Tommy immediately trusting Dream again (he seems to be always inclined to trust Dream much in the same way he’s always inclined to trust Wilbur) and Dream seemingly being supportive (although that was actually because he needed both Manburg and Pogtopia to disappear as we discovered later on).

Fast forward again we have the moment when their relationship sours again: Dream provides Wilbur with the tnt. With this momement we have the confirmation that Dream truly was only siding with them for his own self-interest (as he always considered L’Manburg as his own propriety, independence or not, and he wasn’t happy with Schlatt wanting to expand and being morw ambitious then Wilbur ever was) and Tommy also looses part of his trust in him, though not completely.

You see, their relationship is a bit more complex then that. In season 1 even when Tommy and Dream were enemies there was never really much bad blood between them. And when I say this I mean that Dream in particular didn’t let there be much bad blood between them, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

After Quackity joins Pogtopia they try to make a plan to get L’Manburg back that would not include blowing it up. After that fails (from the vods channel: “Dream BETRAYS TommyInnit during the Dream SMP Meeting...”) and Fundy joins Pogtopia as well Dream announces that Schlatt gave him something “more valuable then frienship” and he’s now siding with him and leaves the Pogtopians announcing that there is a traitor among them.

Wilbur: “Dream just wants to be on the side of the rebellion and now that we are the dominant force technically... isn’t that right Dream? Would you say you just want to be on the other side? You just want to be on the other team?”

Dream: “No I- I don’t think so...”

Tommy: “Dream’s the good guy Wilbur”

D: “I think I’d say that my interest is in myself”

So, despite everything, Up to this point Tommy still trusted Dream. Fully trusted him. But now, soon after this conversation, Dream explicitely tells them that he never considered them “friends” they were “convenient allies” for him (a mindset that he carries on later on and brings to an extreme).

Now you’d think that was the breaking point right? I mean the whole vod was also titled “Dream betrays Tommy” and Dream just left them telling Tommy specifically that no, they were not friends (though Tommy didn’t agree on that point, much like with Techno later on). But that’s not were Dream leaves it.

First he allows Tommy back in his old base to get some stuff once they’re alone (despite having just said in front of Wilbur, Quackity and Fundy that he’d stab him if he tried going back)

Tommy: “I just don’t understand, why would you team with Schlatt?”

Dream: “Tommy... I’m a business man, you know what that’s like”

T: “No I don’t”

D: “Well you do, of course you do”

God since exile that damn soft condescending tone he does hits me so different... anyway. As you see as soon as he’s alone with Tommy he starts being more friendly, less formal. He also takes on a more menacing persona (I really don’t know how he manages to do both at the same time... no wait, exile. He acts more like how he did in exile). Anyway the switch is actually pretty interesting to see.

Tommy: “Why would you not team with us?”

Dream: “Tommy... I’ve never been on your team. I have never been on your team, ever!”

T: “Well I’ve been in your team...”

D: “Wel I- I’m not saying you have. I’ve never been on your team. I’ve never been on anyone’s team”

And with this we are done with their important interactions for this stream, but wait! They have a war in a few days, right? Well, Dream makes sure to spend that time with Tommy. Like, a lot of it.

All of “Dream bullies TommyInnit for having low viewers.” Is Dream following Tommy ominously around while mildly inconveniencing and somewhat helping when they’re supposed to be enemies (it’s literally one of my favourite vods, it’s great! It was also the one vod that sparked the “Dream is obsessed with Tommy” theory in me. Yes I’ve had it from all the way back then, but I also was right, so...).

Tommy: “Okay, so you know how we’re going to war in 7 days time?”

Dream: “Yes”

T: “like, ME and YOU are going to war...”

D: “Yes”

T: “Yes, yeah so I need to- I- it feels very strange to be- I need to prepare for THAT”

D: “Well, what do you need?”

Dream then proceeds to half-help him half-stop him from getting gold in the nether. The whole vod is like this. It definitely has a very weird atmosphere as it’s clear that both of them are fully aware of their respective roles in their upcoming war, but Tommy doesn’t know what to do and Dream is clearly willingly ignoring it all. It’s pretty jarring to watch tbh (together with being a hilarious vod to watch) and it helps starting to paint the picture of Dream having the level of dependence on Tommy that we know he has now.

Then there is “TommyInnit, Dream & Sapnap's PET WAR FINALE” which is LITERALLY THE DAY BEFORE THE WAR. Here Dream, once again, decides to spend the whole time with Tommy. He helps him against Sapnap (who is Dream’s ally) and even decides to lead Tommy to Sapnap’s and Punz’s secret base where they keep their animals and starts encoraging him to kill them. Tommy, of course, refuses and the whole pet war finishes with Sapnap and Tommy releasing Mars and promising to be friends once the war was over.

Like, honestly, if anyone in Pogtopia had known about this interactions maybe they could have suspected Tommy of being the traitor for legitimate reasons instead of misinterpreting him entirely as a person and thinking he just wanted to be president... and you’d think that, maybe, THAT was Dream’s goal, but... not really? He always made sure to spend time with Tommy when there was no-one from Pogtopia around. In all 3 of this vods he is drastically different when they’re alone and, I mean, he stopped hidining how he is with Tommy only during Doomsday (when he gave his speach on the obsidian grid to Tommy, not caring that Tubbo and Quackity were both there).

To finish it off, we know that season 1 ends with Dream fighting alongside Technoblade and nothing else of significant happens for their relationship. Still, I hope this was comprehensive enough to show that, most definitely, his obsession with Tommy and the having power over Tommy is not a new concept for Dream. It’s something that got worse with time, but it’s most definitely not something new. The main thing that changed throughout season 1 and 2 was Tommy’s perception of Dream (which went from easy trust and friendship to hatred and fear), not vice versa.

Also may I add that Dream's constantly acting friendly when they most definitely aren't is probably one of the reasons why Tommy was so predisposed to accepting Dream as his friend in exile? Just a thought...

@ladycatland

#dream smp #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #character analysis #relationship analysis #dream smp season 1 #/rp #my post #long post #one of the longest for sure...#does it show that I miss having regular lore updates?#I'm starting to look into all the old lore...#send help...

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

Text

The Beguiling (Hades! Don Giorno x Persephone! Fem! Reader)

This concept has been on my mind for the longest time. This is loosely based off the lore of Hades and Persephone, set in a modern mafia AU, with Giorno as Hades and the reader as Persephone. 🥺💖🐞

TW: Kidnapping, yandere themes, manipulative behaviour, disordered relationship dynamics

Word count : 6.3k

“The truth of the matter I believe to be this. There is, as I stated at first, no absolute right or wrong in love, but everything depends upon the circumstances, to yield to a bad man in a bad way is wrong, but to yield to a worthy man in a right way is right.”

- Plato, Symposium

Being the Don of a mafia is a difficult task, being so far removed from everyone and everything else. Some would even say, its like being part of an entirely different realm…

Extremely beautiful but entirely unapproachable, Giorno didn’t appear in public very often, the burden of running the organization had brought many threats to his safety. Granted, he was able to thwart any plan to even remotely harm him, but one doesn’t have time for such annoyances when you wield as much power as he did. Taking over something so big at such a young age changes a person, and Giorno was no different, he was always seen as aloof and calculating, but there were other dimensions to his character that he was painfully aware of, but would not reveal to anyone else… yet.

“Don Giovanna, are you ready to go? The driver is ready for us,” his consigliere spoke in an even, respectful tone while addressing his don.

“Yes, we can leave, have you informed Fugo of the change in our plans?” Giorno’s voice was monotonous, soft and polite, but conveyed no emotion. The task at hand today was not a pleasant one… he hated having to deal with defectors and had avoided it up until this point. This case was different… the defector in question was your brother. You had always held a special place in his heart ever since he encountered you upon taking over Passione. You were always kind towards him, and all your conversations had brought about a sense of peace within himself. Nonetheless, he dismissed it as a simple juvenile crush, and continued with his mammoth task of remolding the diseased organization, excising the ‘tumors’ to allow for a healthier, better, stronger Passione to emerge. Sacrificing his youth, his personal life and precious friends in order to attain his dream, he was not going to let anyone destroy everything he had worked so hard to create.

As the years went on, there were many times that your path had unwittingly crossed with the young don’s which only intensified his feelings for you, but given the nature of his lifestyle, he tried to convince himself that loving you from afar would be good enough, but Giorno’s resolve- unshakeable in every other scenario- was quickly waning in this regard.

Meeting with your father was painful, his demeanor reminding Giorno of a shadowed figure from his past who had changed his life forever.

“He’ll have to be dealt with, you understand this, correct?”

“I’m aware of this, Don Giovanna. I… I’m willing to take any punishment you see fit… please keep my daughter out of this… I can stake my life on her innocence in all of this,” your father spoke emphatically, desperate to protect you, appealing to the don’s humanity. Giorno furrowed his eyebrows, surely your father knew he wouldn’t harm you in any way- was it normal for people to be this terrified of him? The sharp slam of a door and a greeting from a honeyed voice snapped Giorno from his thoughts.

“I’m home, I hope you’re hungry, I’m making octopus salad, squid ink risotto and I’ve got chocolate fondants for dessert… oh goodness! Don Giovanna- I’m sorry… I, um…” you stuttered embarrassingly as your gaze landed on the blonde’s handsome face and shifted to the ground immediately. Before Giorno could answer you to try and quell your discomfort, your father interjected, sending you away from the room. The young don was completely awestruck by your ethereal beauty, as if you had been crafted by the gods themselves, descended to create joy in an otherwise dull world. He made a silent promise to himself- he had to have you as his own.

“(Y/n), please give us a moment piccolina, I’ll come to you as soon as we have concluded our meeting,”

“Of course, please pardon my interruption,” with a small nod of your head, you took your leave, wanting to start making the dishes you had just rattled off. As you busied yourself with your preparations, your mind kept returning to Giorno, he was always calm and pleasant, but you hadn’t seen him with that kind of expression before. The fact that you hadn’t seen your brother in days didn’t bode well with today’s events… you hoped he was okay, but you experienced first-hand how aggressive he could be, something, you were told, he had shared with your mother. You didn’t have much of a relationship with her as her job had taken her away from the family a bit too much. You understood now that you were a young adult, but your emotions still vacillated between acceptance and resentment when you observed the families of your friends.

“You know… because of the difference in our ages, you’ve always told me that you cared for me as a father would care for a son, as a result, our relationship has always been cordial… its allowed us to speak frankly as we have always done in the past,”

“Yes, Don Giovanna… this is true.”

“Please, I’ve told you many times before, call me Giorno…”

“Alright… Giorno,”

“Good, good, see? That sounds better already. As I was saying before, if your affections for me run that deep… accept me as a son-in-law and allow me to marry (y/n) and you will never have to worry about her safety again. Nobody would ever think to harm her if they have to contend with me first,”

“What? Are you asking for permission to marry my daughter? I don’t think she has even considered something like that… you’ve barely spoken to each other…” your father was battling to make sense of Giorno’s request, if one could even call it a request.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in… your son has singlehandedly created a colossal mess; we’d be in the middle of a turf war if it wasn’t for the quick thinking of my consigliere. That’s not to say other people wouldn’t want to exact their own personal brand of justice. I can guarantee you though, if she’s under my care, none of those things will ever reach her.�� Just as the consigliere was about to speak, perhaps, an attempt to rationalize with the don, a sharp sideward glance from the latter had left all suggestions unspoken. The silence in the room was palpable… uncomfortable, until it was broken by Giorno.

“I’ve loved (y/n) for as long as I’ve known her, the best place for her would be with me, my strength is unparalleled… this is probably a lot to take in right now, I’ll allow you some time to come around to the idea, I’d hate to have to take her by force, but, if that’s what it will take…”

“Are you threatening me Don Giovanna?” asked your father with a restrained bite to his voice.

“Of course not, I’m merely making my intentions clear, my reach spans well beyond anything you could ever imagine… well, I’ve said all I need to in this instance. I’ll be back for her in three days, I trust you’ll be able comply with my suggestion. I’ll be taking my leave now.” With a flourish of his cerulean blue coat, Giorno and his consigliere left your home. Your father cursed his position, but there was little he could do about it. Finding you blissfully tinkering in the kitchen, his heart broke, knowing already that this was one of the last times he would be seeing you like this… or at all.

“You don’t agree with what I’m doing, do you, Lorenzo? You know I’m good at reading people, although you’re not even trying to mask your disdain,” asked Giorno, breaking the silence on the drive home.

“Well, if I’m allowed to speak freely, I don’t think you’re going about this in the right manner. She’s going to be terrified and resentful because you’re effectively abducting her, so in brief, I don’t agree with this at all,”

“Fair enough, and for the record, obviously I’m aware that she’s going to hate me… at first anyway, but she’ll come to understand eventually. Anyway, what’s done is done, in three days, I’ll be bringing home my goddess.” Giorno turned his attention to his phone and with that Lorenzo had backed off, knowing from years of serving Giorno that there was no talking to him when he resolved to do something.

“Father, you’re so quiet… did something happen?” you asked, part of you not wanting to know the answer to that question.

“It’s a mess, but don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it. There is something that I have to speak to you about though… it’s about Don Giovanna, he would like to see you in a few days, nothing serious, just be sure to keep your schedule open for the day,” your father explained, only divulging half the truth of your situation.

“He wants to see me? Do you know why? Have I done something wrong?” you were curious as to what Giorno could possible want with you.

“Of course not dolcezza, he just wants to have a chat with you, I think he’s just making sure that you’re alright… that’s part of why he was here today.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be available. Anyway, dinner’s ready, once you get washed up, we can eat,” you glanced up at your father to see his face contorted in grief. “What’s the matter? I know you don’t like talking about things that have to do with your occupation, but you’ve been like this ever since Don Giovanna left,”

Being too much for him to bear, he pulled you into a vicelike embrace, almost as if you would disappear if he let you go, which was not entirely false. “Aww, it’s okay dad, everything will be fine, come on, the food’s getting cold, you need to eat,” with that, you both ate in a comfortable silence as you always did, before you both retired for the evening.

While you tried to prepare yourself for your “meeting”, your soon to be captor was busy creating your sanctuary, or rather, overseeing the creation of your sanctuary- there was no reason why your surroundings couldn’t be as beautiful as you were, his aim after all was to get you to fall in love with him. Large, glittering mirrors with gilded frames adorned the walls of the hallways that lead to your room. Inside, was everything one could ever hope to have; an extensive closet filled with things that were made especially for you, various trinkets and baubles carefully selected for you, state of the art electronic devices, albeit with restrictions on the amount of things you could access… just for the time being though. If you were to start off as a bird in a cage, it should be a bejeweled cage worthy of a rarity like you.

As it got closer to the time you’d be seeing Giorno, your nerves started increasing exponentially, you knew that under normal circumstances, having to meet with someone like him without knowing what the subject matter would be was intimidating, but this feeling was something else altogether. As if something in your gut was telling you to cancel- to run- but you dismissed those feelings, and prepared yourself for the engagement.

“Buonasera cara, you look especially charming this evening…” he greeted you with a velvety voice that masked the true nature of him being there.

“Buonasera Don Giovanna, thank you for the compliment,”

“Shall we leave, (y/n)?”

“Um, okay… I just need to fetch my things and let my father know that I’m leaving…”

“Alright, perfect, actually, would you mind if I followed you? I’d like a quick word with him before we leave,” his expression was so charismatic, you felt guilty for not inviting him inside immediately.

“Of course, I’m sorry, please do come in.” you say as you stepped aside to make room for Giorno to enter. You lead him to the study and went to fetch your coat and purse to go, giving yourself a onceover in the mirror to make sure you were presentable and with that you kissed your father on the cheek and left.

The restaurant that you and Giorno went to was completely empty except for a single table set up for you both and the staff that were going to serve you, you found it odd, but dismissed it as one of the nuances of leading a mafia, privacy was of utmost importance. Ever the gentleman, the young don pulled out your chair for you and seated himself across from you.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me (y/n), I appreciate you taking the time to do so,”

“Of course, although I have to admit, I’m a little confused as to why I’m here,” you say with a nervous titter. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table, probably preapproved by Giorno already, and with a small nod, it is poured out into the awaiting glasses for the two of you.

“You will understand soon enough cara, come, lets toast to something… ah! To new beginnings…” he suggested with a sardonic smile.

“New beginnings? Okay… to new beginnings, salute!” with a confused smile and a delicate clink of your glasses you both took a sip of your wine. As the night went on, you were having a wonderful time, however, it seemed like your alcohol was getting to you faster than usual.

“Are you alright, cara, you look a bit out of sorts, come, I’ll take you home,”

“Thanks Don, I… I’m sorry I don’t know-” before completing the rest of your sentence, your consciousness faded and you fell into a strong pair of arms. Giorno sat you back down and made a quick call to his driver before picking you up again and placing you in the awaiting car to take you to your new home. As he gazed lovingly upon your face, he knew that the road is going to be a tedious one, but you would love him one day.

Your head pounded incessantly as you tried to open your eyes. The sensations on your skin were unfamiliar- soft, silken, so inviting, lulling you back into the deep slumber you were trying to break. Was this a dream? Your eyes finally opened to an unfamiliar room, you gathered the courage to sit up in bed, still unsure if you were in a dream or not and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Looking around the room, feeling a sense of panic enveloping your very existence, you ran towards the large, ornately carved door to try and leave the room, but it was locked. The windows, it seemed, were crafted from reinforced glass as they would not break regardless of what was thrown at them. Left with only one option, you began to cry out for help, surely someone would be there, it was too well kept to be an abandoned building.

Listening to the commotion from outside the room were the guards and servants tasked with making sure your requests were fulfilled, but more importantly, they needed to ensure you were safe and didn’t escape. Giorno had a way with people, a charisma that both scared and enchanted those around him. Disobedience was not even a fleeting option for those who served him, partly out of fear, but mostly out of devotion to the young don. Giving each other a knowing glance, your guard decided to call his boss to come and subdue you before you had hurt yourself.

Your throat felt raw from the shouting and hyperventilating, your skin shimmered, veiled in a thin layer of sweat and your eyes shifted this way and that, trying to spot something you could exploit to leave the room while your captor was away. It dawned on you that as terrifying as it was to be in that place, it would be even worse if you had to face whoever was holding you there, choosing rather to contend with the fear of the unknown, than putting a face to your jailor. As if even thinking of something willed it into existence, your worst nightmare materialized as you heard the door being unlocked.

“Tesoro… please stop, you’re hurting yourself,” your eyes widened when you heard the velvety voice addressing you with such tenderness.

“Don… Giovanna? Where am I? What are you doing here? Please, I need to go home, I don’t know who brought me here…” you could barely articulate yourself with your shaky voice.

“I know that you’re extremely scared and confused… there’s so much I need to explain to you… but please, first, let me look at your hands, you are hurt, I can take care of that,” it was only after he spoke that you saw the bruises blooming on the delicate skin of your hands and arms. You still stayed rooted to where you were, but Giorno inched closer, materializing GE to heal your injuries. His heart stung when you silently grimaced at the pain of his ability rejoining the blood vessels that had broken, but he hated seeing your beautiful skin being marred like that.

“Don…”

“Please, call me Giorno…”

“Okay… Giorno… can we go now? I need to go home, if we stay any longer the people who put me here might come back or send others, I…”

“Tesoro… this is your home now… the person who brought you here was me… what is the last thing you remember from yesterday?” The young don circled around you and sat you down next to him at the foot of the bed.

“Why? Why did you bring me here? Are you insane? I can’t stay here, I… don’t understand what the hell is going on! I need to call my father,” seeing you start to get agitated again, Giorno pulled out his phone and motioned for you to take it.

“Here, call him, he has already agreed to this arrangement. You’re not safe my love, I’m sure you know about the recent transgressions courtesy of your cretin of a brother. People are angry and want revenge, and unfortunately you’re in the direct line of fire. So it was decided that you would come and live with me, you’ll find all your belongings here already, mixed with things that I believe you would like. I will give you anything your heart desires, lavish you with all the love and attention I can. All you need to do is stay here… near me… nobody can challenge me…”

You heard the words, but nothing was making sense to you. You decided to take up your captor’s offer to speak to your father, who confirmed his entire story. Feeling dejected, empty and completely alone, you sank to the floor as violent sobs wracked your body. Seeing you in this state filled Giorno with dread as he lifted you off the lushly carpeted floor, but he knew he would be able to get you to love him eventually. This was this the initial shock; he was willing to wait for you to acclimate to your surroundings.

Thus began your life of isolation… your routine, if you could even call it that, consisted of waking up in your palatial room, begrudgingly having breakfast with your green-eyed abductor and sulking around for the rest of the day. Giorno put a lot of effort into making sure that you were comfortable and tried to interact with you as much as his schedule would allow him to. Initially, all of his attempts to speak to you were ignored, you wondered if the awkward silence even bothered him at all, but he always had a peaceful expression on his face. If nothing else, he was very patient with you, and at times you tested his patience on purpose, goading him to anger, in those times though, he simply left you alone in your room, not allowing you to leave for a few days, instructing your handlers to confiscate your electronics, not even offering you a sliver of human contact… you needed to think about why you were in that position after all, so there could be no distractions whatsoever. Those isolation periods would thankfully not last long enough to tip you over the edge though, and like a ray of sunshine after a storm, he’d come to unlock your doors and add color back into your world. You always were more affectionate towards him after a few days on your own, which, you reasoned, was due to the lack of any interaction at all as opposed to having any genuine feelings towards him. Giorno wasn’t picky though, he accepted your gentle touches and embraces all the same, one day… soon… you would undertake those gestures solely on your desire to do so.

Surely enough, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you had warmed up to him, settling into an oddly satisfying domestic life with the don. The more of yourself you gave to him, the wider your world had gotten, until you eventually had free reign over the entire estate. You soon had come to realize that if you had just played your part, and listened to him, complied with his simple requests, his kindness towards you was limitless. Giorno had remained as attentive as ever, picking up on every little change on you from the subtle change in the color of your blush to the miniscule changes in the length of your hair after its trimmed, nothing escaped his well trained eye. He beamed when you started to wear the clothes and jewels he bought for you, seeing it as a sign that you were slowly starting to accept him. The truth of the situation was that you had, against your better judgement, fallen in love with this living deity.

“Giorno… the weather’s warming up quite beautifully, why don’t we train outdoors from now on instead of working out inside?” you suggested while you kneeled on the bed behind a seated Giorno as you undid his elaborate hairstyle and brushed out the product from his hair before he took a shower.

“Hmmm… alright bella, I suppose we could do that, I’m sure the fresh air would do us both some good,” as he got up, he bent down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading into the shower. For a fleeting moment, you thought about your old life, you had earned back the liberty to speak to your family, well, your father, and some friends, but the fractured relationships weren’t the same. Pushing those negative feelings to the back of your mind, you waited for Giorno so that you could both go to sleep, but your heavy eyelids fell shut. His patience with you was never more evident than in these moments, never once overstepping your boundaries or initiating intimacy that would make you feel uncomfortable. Emerging to see your sleeping form, he pulled up the covers around you and climbed into the other side of the bed, facing you, he clutched your hands in his, allowing himself to close his eyes as well.

“We’ve managed to locate her… you aren’t going to like this though,”

“Just tell me where my daughter is, I’ll decide the rest,” your mother spoke bluntly to her partner.

“She’s living with some mafia boss; I think he’s her boyfriend or something. You never see her out on her own, she’s always with him. I’ve got people watching your husband’s house, she’s only been there once, with the cocky bastard in tow. The security at his place is insane, worst of all, we think he’s a stand user,”

“Stand user? Don’t make me laugh, that means nothing, we’re stand users too, every ability has a weakness that can be exploited,” your mother lit a cigarette and took a long drag, musing on what her first move should be. After a moment of contemplation, she had her sights set on her old marital home, deciding that your father would be able to provide the most complete description of what is going on. She portrayed a nonchalant exterior, but your mother was very worried for your safety. She had a powerful stand of her own, in fact all the members of your family were powerful stand users- except you. Your mother worked closely with a foreign organization dedicated to studying supernatural phenomena as such, most of her time was divided between her travels on behalf of the organization and work that she would need to do onsite at their headquarters in Washington. Over her lifetime, she’s found herself in many precarious positions, so she decided it would be safer if she stayed away from the family in an attempt to keep everyone safe… upon hindsight, that was a fatal miscalculation. To describe her mood after speaking to your father as livid, would be an understatement.

Not wasting a moment, your mother called her associate and made her way to the don’s villa, hell-bent on taking you back from his dark clutches.

“Bella, are you ready to go?” Giorno called to you as he pulled on his coat while you put on your last accessory. You never turned down an opportunity to go out, even though your outings became slightly more frequent, you were completely captivated by discovering the different facets to Giorno’s personality. As much as he was fervently observing you and curating an ideal world tailored to you, you were learning a lot about him and the circumstances that fashioned him in this manner.

“Yes tesoro, sorry for keeping you waiting… what is it?” you were met by a wide-eyed Giorno, and it hit you… Tesoro… the name trickled so effortlessly off your lips, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really thinking…”

“Don’t apologize amore, as long as it’s you, I don’t mind…” he softly replied, as he stroked your cheek with the back of his forefinger. You heard a faint clatter accompanied by the ring of Giorno’s phone, informing him that there had been a security breach. The soft expression on his face was gone, as he gripped you with a protective arm.

Before you had time to ask him what was going on, you heard your name being called out by a voice you barely remembered, one you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Mother?” your voice was a whisper. Your mother looked at you, disdain skewing her features before turning her attention to Giorno, whose grip continued to tighten around you.

“(y/n), I’ve come to take you away from here, it’s obvious leaving you in the care of your father was a mistake. And you, step away from her this instant, you will regret it if you don’t,”

You hadn’t noticed the swarm of black suits that had surrounded you all, ready to pounce at Giorno’s command. His intense gaze had not left your face while your mother spoke, searching for the slightest tell indicating you might have known about this, but you were just as perplexed as he was… the guilt of him doubting you twisting his features even further.

“It’s alright, stand down men… while you really have a nerve of breaking into my property, I feel that this can be solved amicably, I’d hate for (y/n) to have to contend with any discord between us,” he spoke with a calm, even voice but that didn’t match the fury brewing in his eyes.

“Amicable? You take my daughter away from her home and you still feel like this is something that can be talked out of? You really are a piece of work!”

“Better to be the overbearing lover than the neglectful mother…” Giorno’s tone was dripping with cynicism as he handed you to one of your awaiting guards.

“You sick bastard!” your mother cried out. As if being pushed back by a glowing force that you couldn’t quite discern, the young don was thrown backwards. You hated feeling so powerless. Giorno sat up and smiled mockingly, before launching into an attack of his own you assumed, as you saw a similar golden glow envelop his body, and the bodies of the security personnel backing him up.

“Please, stop it! All of you!” you wanted to run out between them but you were restrained by your guard. It didn’t take long for Giorno and his men to restrain your mother and her associate, taking care to leave them largely unharmed while you were still present. Giorno had made one fatal error though… blame it on overconfidence or his need to constantly check on you, he had turned away and left himself wide open for a last ditch attack from your mother as she broke free. At that very moment, your body moved itself before you could even think, and faster than you ever thought possible, pushing him out of the way with only a second to spare, as the attack hit the very spot he had stood on just a moment before, shattering the marble flooring on contact. The room was enveloped in silence, Giorno motioned for his guards to leave the room, as did your mother to her partner.

“(y/n) … tesoro mio… are you okay? You… you saved me…” he said as he kneeled next to your shaking, winged form, combing his hands through your hair as he tried to get a look at your face. You looked up to see Giorno with a wide eyed golden figure hovering over him, approaching you was your mother, with a luminescent humanoid woman matching her footsteps.

“Tesoro, it seems you’re a stand user after all,” mentioned Giorno, still gazing at you, this time with an expression you hadn’t seen from him before. Completely overwhelmed by the recent events, you sat for a moment, trying to regulate your breathing with the exercises Giorno practiced with you when your anxiety overwhelmed you.

“So these are what stands are… they look terrifying…” you say, finally managing to normalize your breathing and take command of your senses once again. “where is my stand then? I presume these two figures belong to you and mother.”

“Yours is different amore… are you able to walk? Come with me…” Giorno lead you to one of the mirrors so you could see how your stand manifested; you had large wings that had sprouted from your back, your eyes glowed colorlessly, and you had luminescent geometric patterns running down your face and body, akin to the patterns you would find on a circuit board. “You have what is known as a phenomenon stand, this means that it changes your body rather than manifesting a separate entity,”

“I see…”

“We can figure out the extent of your abilities another time, for now I need to see those injuries,”

“Excuse me? You’re not doing anything further with her, I’m still serious about taking back (y/n),” interjected your mother sarcastically.

“Are you trying to anger me on purpose? I loathe having to repeat myself. Do not mistake my unwillingness to kill you this very instant on anything other than respect for (y/n),”

“Likewise…”

“You’re both so selfish!” surprised to hear you raise your voice that much, both parties were stunned to silence.

“I’m a person with my own will, I have feelings, thoughts, desires, dreams… but neither of you bother to consider any of that… Giorno, you essentially abducted me, under the ruse of protecting me, I’m sure you would have found a way to keep me safe while I lived my own life, if it was that important to you, but you weren’t interested in that… if you had just approached me like a normal person, I’d still have fallen for you… well I guess now we’ll never know … And you… mother- I use that term liberally- abandoned me… abandoned us, I don’t care what the reasons were, you left me to grow up without a mother, and now you come here and ridicule me with this dramatic display of affection,” your voice began to crack but you wouldn’t let them see you cry, not so soon after finally finding your voice, so you left them there and went off to your special spot in the far corner of the estate. You knew that Giorno created that little piece of heaven for you strategically, as it was visible from his study, but it served as your safe place, and it was what you needed right now.

Giorno’s mind was clouded and he felt an uncomfortable suffocating sensation in his chest. Glancing at your mother it was apparent that your emotional outpouring had affected her as well.

“I think its best if you leave,”

“Wait, Giorno… perhaps this approach wasn’t the best way to do this, I underestimated you…”

“For the sake of curiosity, what do you propose?”

“That’s going to depend on how you answer my next question…”

“For someone with as few options as you have, you’re incredibly brazen,” shot back Giorno, clearly becoming tired of the conversation.

“I spoke to her father before coming here… he told me about my son… is… is he dead?” speaking earnestly this time, your mother steeling herself for what the young don would say to her. He observed her intently, debating whether it would be safe to divulge any information to her.

“That’s classified information,” he said, knowing full well that the idiot was alive somewhere, unable to be a threat to anyone again, unfortunately he couldn’t divulge this information to anyone. If she was smart enough she would be able to figure it out for herself, any more than that he could not offer.

“I understand… Fine, I’ll back off, (y/n) can stay here… but I need to speak to her, to explain everything, when she’s ready though…”

Giorno contemplated for a moment, feeling oddly moved by the change in your mother’s demeanor, he found himself agreeing with her, “Fine… I’ll allow it, but I can’t have you here, never again, if you need to see her, we’ll come to you… if that’s all, I need to check on (y/n)” Your mother took her leave, thoughts of the bizarre events of the day dominating her thoughts.

You listlessly played with the water in the fountain you sat beside, eyeing the way the sunshine made the droplets that fell from your fingertips look like gems. Hearing the scrunching sound of grass being stepped on, you knew that Giorno was approaching you. Unwilling to turn around to face him, you continued to look at the water.

“May I sit with you?” his voice was tender and didn’t match his imposing figure. Looking up his striking face, framed by golden waves, you nodded wordlessly.

“Talk to me cara…”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What’s on your mind…”

You paused, thinking carefully before starting to speak. “There’s so much on my mind… I… I just can’t understand you. You bring me here under the most dubious circumstances, but treat me like I’m the center of your world. I want to hate you for taking me away from my world, but I’ve never felt as loved by anyone in that world as much as I do here with you. How can you look at me with eyes so gentle now, when those same eyes were ready to kill not even two hours ago? How am I supposed to make up my mind about you when your every action contradicts the next?”

“It’s simple bella… I love you… you’re above the rules I set for everyone else… my one weakness is you, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how else to be, it’s either everything or nothing. Perhaps, forget about what you think and focus on how you feel… You know, we aren’t that different, the two of us… so many parents between us and barely enough traits among them to make up one good guardian, having to basically raise ourselves, so much pressure from such a young age, being scared of what lurks in the dark, experiencing so much physical pain, you just become immune to it. I have to admit, I was jealous of that brave assault by your mother, I don’t know if anyone would do the same for me… except you of course… you almost died to get me out of harm’s way… and just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I do…”

The gentle way he cupped your chin, as if you were made of crystal, and the swirl of emotion in his eyes, compelled you to act on your impulses, kissing him passionately, releasing some of the pent up emotions and frustrations that have been building up for the longest time. His free hand curled itself around your waist, while your hands tangled themselves in his hair. Resting your forehead on his, you hear him murmuring affirmations of his love for you.

“I love you too, Gio,” the words just rolled off your tongue as if you were always meant to say them. Giorno, seemingly moved by your placid declaration, buried his face in your hair, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo that he loved so much. What you didn’t see was the sardonic smile blooming on his handsome face. He always was a master at deception… although, it couldn’t be classified as deception if most of what he said was true… could it? He didn’t want to play the sympathy card today, but it was the only way he could firmly cement your place with him for good. Pulling away for a moment, looking at the love-struck expression on your face as you softly move your hand from his hair to his chest, he could see that you were finally complete- entirely devoted to him… there was no room for guilt this time.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #Hades!Giorno x Persephone! Reader #Hades x Persephone modern AU #yandere jjba prt 5 #yandere giogio #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna #giorno #yandere jjba x reader #kidnapping #manipulation

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heavenfordoms · 3 years

Text

”Innocent“ Hug (Deku x fem! Reader):

Pairing(s): Deku x reader

Warning(s): 18+ minors DNI, cussing, manga spoilers, riding, death, semi-public sex, eating out

Genera: angst to fluff to smut

A/N: wait this was actually fun and easy to write for me wtf

Fandom: My hero academia (boku no hero academia)

Glossary:

Y/n = your name

Summery: Bakugou looses his life in battle and y/n goes to comfort Deku, soon Deku ends up forgetting about Bakugou as y/n rides him

You sucked in a breath, holding it for a while as you stared at the villain in front of you. You where crouched down low so you knew that he couldn’t see you. But you sure saw him. Your quirk was called memory, you could memorize anything that you wanted. The downside to this quirk is that while your mind was full of knowledge your body was weak so it was no good for battle-training, another bad thing (or more annoying then anything) is that we can’t forget it, ever, even if you wanted to. You remember every single detail of your life and every single thing that has happened to this point in grave detail. Not like you wanted to remember it, but you felt so worthless that it was almost blood to memorize everything. Like how there where five street lamps outside the bar. They where dimly lit and flickered every five second, each one after the other. The one on the very right was the first to flicker then it would go all the way to the left. Sometimes the one in the very middle would shut off at random times as the other lamps brightly shone in the night-sky.

“Could you stop mumbling?!” Katsuki whisper-yelled at you. You slightly cringed at the blonde male’s words before nodding your head in a form of acceptance (for some reason people saw that as acceptance so you did as well).

Katsuki is a young man of average height for somebody his age, with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He has short, spiky, ash-blond hair with choppy bangs that hang over his eyebrows. His eyes are sharp and bright red in color. His hero costume is composed of a tight, black, sleeveless tank top, with an orange "X" across the middle, forming a v-neck. There are two dots along the left line of his collar, indicating the support company that designed his costume. His costume also has a metallic neck brace worn with rectangular ends that have three holes on each side. His sleeves reach from within his large grenade-like gauntlets to his biceps. His belt, which also carries grenades, holds up his baggy pants with knee guards, below which he sports black, knee-high combat boots with orange soles and eyelets. His mask is jagged and black, and as it goes around his eyes, a large, orange-rimmed flare shape protrudes from each side.

You focused your eyes off of Kastsuki and onto Dabi, the villain who was standing guard outside the bar. Dabi is a fairly tall, pale young man of a slim, somewhat-lanky build, described to be in his early twenties. He has white hair with a few red streaks at the crown that spikes upward around his head, hanging low over his eyes, which are thin, turquoise in color, and heavily lidded. Before the reveal of his true identity, his hair was dyed black. His most striking features are undoubtedly the patches of gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that cover much of his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs due to him having a quirk at a early age and not knowing how to control it. These appear to be attached to the rest of his skin by multiple, crude surgical staples or hoop piercings. He has several silver cartilage piercings in both ears, and a triple nostril piercing on the right side of his nose. He also seems to be lacking earlobes on both sides of his ears upon close inspection, he wears a dark blue jacket with a high, ripped collar, and matching pants, cut off above his ankles, a pair of dark dress shoes on his feet. He also has a plain pale gray, scoop-neck shirt, below which a gray belt with a circular pattern wraps around his waist, a leather satchel attached at the back.

Nobody knew his real name, until now, Dabi had revealed himself as Touya Todoroki. Everyone now calls him Touya but it never settled right in your gut to call him that. His name was Dabi to you and it will always be Dabi. It didn’t matter if he did a big entry and say that he is part of the Todoroki’s Dabi didn’t seem like them. The Todoroki’s where a strict family with ruled set in place. Endeavor, now the number one hero, had tried to welcome his family with more open arms. You could tell that Dabi’s opening was not out of grief for his family but instead out of spite. Like saying to Endeavor that he needs to take a chill pill with this whole anime redemption arc thing that he has going on for himself (and you didn’t quiet disagree with the oriole scarred man either).

You often thought of life like a anime, it was easier to explain. If somebodies life was broken they just ended up in the wrong anime. It also helped reminded you that every villain has a backstory. You never got to see their perspective in things. You never got to see what happened to the villains after they got defeated. Nope. You never got to see that, maybe if people saw the villain’s side. Everyone would hate the hero‘s and build their own path just as villains do. They make a path that no one has ever gone on, slowly making it a dirt road and them turning it again into an actual road that everyone can go on. Villains never got the roadwork. Hero’s probably always destroy it.

“So what’s the plan?” You leaned in close to Katsuki and whispered in his ear, Kastuki tensed up next to you and sucked in a breath before looking at you through pointy eyes.

”I will distract scar-man while you go and get Deku from the bar.” Kastuki explained, you nodded your head ‘yes’ before you pointing in the direction you where going to go. Kastuki grunted to himself as he crawled slowly in the opposite direction. Sending explosion at Dabi’s face before ducking behind a large wooden tool-box that had the words ”Back Bend Inc” on it in Ariel black font. Although it had been there for so long that the black ink looked to be a dark smoky gray. You quietly padded off into the opposite direction, your head ducked and eyes darting every five seconds to catch every detail around you.

Silently, you slipped into the bar. There was a wooden plank that held up the first stand, it looked to be pretty normal from here. There was dark wine stands that had a light brown color to them. The walls where colored with a sand tan. Over by the bar there was stacks and stacks of different liquor that people could have. Above was the general black chalkboard menu, there was smeared blue chalk that said “SPECIAL: Burbon” the strong smell of liquor and whisky hung in the air. There was a cigarette hanging off the ledge, still lit and everything. It looked pretty normal, but there was a slight piece of the cigarette where it was unwrapped and that told you enough to not say ’fuck it’ and have a smoke break. Turning your head slowly you walked up to Kurogiri. Information began flooding in your head about the villains and the bar. Unluckily for you everyone noticed the smartness you had and quickly found out your quirk. They began to flood your Brian with information. Information that a kid didn’t want to hear. You heard everything when you where just in High School. Now, everyone hated your quirk, everyone fucking hated it. The people who raised you said that you where a monster and that they didn’t know you anymore. But the sad part was you didnt do anything wrong. After hours of racking through your mind you couldn’t find a single moment where you did something bad. “I need to see Tomura.” You stared blankly at the mist villain. Kurogiri's entire body is made out of a dark purple mist, save for his eyes, which are glowing yellow. He normally wears a very elegant suit with a tie and has a metal brace that goes from around his collarbone to just below his eyes. It was pretty simple description of the villain, but there wasn’t much to him.

“Now?“ The male inquired, a hint of annoyance traced his smooth and calming voice. His voice sounded a lot like a gently sea softly rippling in the waves. But in actuality he was more like a thundering storm as the large ocean waves crashed harshly against large dark-gray-almost-black rocks.

“Yes, it is important.” You answered, putting a fake smile across your face. You still heard the faint sound of explosions from Katsuki and knew that you didn’t have a lot of time. Katsuki only could hold off for fifteen minutes before he went full on battle mood. And the villains would definitely think at something is up. Kurogiri hummed thoughtfully before nodding his head in agreement and holding out his purple misted hand.

”Come on dear…” The man whispered soothingly and smiling up and down at you.

“Thanks!” You chirped getting up and going behind the bar, following the villain down the stairs that creaked underneath your feet.

“BOSS!! Somebody wanted you!!” Kurogiri called, you took a deep breath before flinching as you looked into the villains base.

It was the same red bricks that seemed to be different colors every brick that was placed down to make the wall of the bar. There was smooth fake wood counter with clean royal red plush bar stools with the smallest backs on them. There was a few hero posters scattered around the base, one medium sized All Might poster hung to the right of a small screen TV. The dull gray light picketed on and off as the headlights didn’t provide much protection against the dark loom of everything. Different types of bottles hung on narrowed shelves behind the bar. Right next to the bar was a metal door, the window had cages around it and a long shiny knob that went down the left side. To the right of the door was a old faction radio station with LED lights surrounding it. It was currently playing Take Me to Church, apparently just starting to play it seeing how the introduction was still on. You narrowed your eyes before leaning against the red brick wall and giving everyone a swept gaze. All of the villains names that where forced to memorize came to your head all of a sudden.

Himiko Toga was standing in the farthest left, spinning in the red barstools.

Himiko is a relatively petite, fair-skinned girl who is very prone to blushing and is frequently described as to having a rather pretty face. She has slightly inward-tilting bright yellow eyes with thin slits, making them somewhat resemble those of a cat, and her wide mouth is also rather feline, as both her upper and lower canines are more pointed and longer than the rest of her teeth, giving her a vampire-like appearance. Her hair is a pale, dirty ash-blonde and is styled into two messy buns, with numerous wild strands sticking out at all angles from their centers and where they’re fastened, a straight fringe and two chin-length side bangs to frame her face. Himiko’s outfit consist of a plain seifuku with a Kansai collar, both the skirt and the shirt dark blue with a double white trim, which is paired with a red scarf that she ties loosely below. Over this, she wears an oversized beige cardigan with a rather long hem and cuffs, and pockets on either side, the right one shown to hold a number of trinkets on either a keychain or a cellphone strap. She sports knee-length black socks and dark brown dress shoes with thick heels, the same as the outdoor uniform shoes students traditionally wear in Japanese schools.

Tomura was standing next to Himiko, a bored expression clouding his features.

Tomura is a slim man with deathly pale skin, tinged yellow, and wrinkled a great deal around his eyes. His lips are chapped and uneven, a small mole on the right underneath, with visible scars on his right eye and under his lip. He has messy grayish-blue hair of varying lengths, the longest clumps reaching to about his shoulders, left hanging over his face in uneven waves. His eyes are normally obscured, but when visible, they are usually stretched wide in a rather maniacal manner, their bright red irises are very small.

Interestingly, when Tenko was at the age of five, he bore a striking resemblance to Izuku Midoriya, with his blue hair originally being dark black in color, while also having dried patches of skin around his eyes, though his lips were shown to be healthy in appearance. After his Quirk manifested, his appearance changed giving him a wrinkled face and changing his hair color.

Nobody else was in the base, the rest of the villains where busy surviving customers or dealing with Bakugou.

Then you saw him

Deku…

Deku has been a classmate of yours for a while, although you guy’s rarely talked to each other you always admired his strength and wisdom. Soon he became the number one hero and you became the second, Bakugou and Todoroki following closely behind. The only real reason you where able to make it to number two was due to the popularity votes for citizens. Everyone liked you, they loo up to you. So rationally you often teamed up with Deku. He was not good with the citizens since he never got a chance to talk to them due to the fact that he broke his bones in battle often but his quirk was amazing. And you didn’t have a lot of strength so that gave you time to connect with the citizens. The two of you working together helped everyone live a better place. Now seeing him tied up and helpless, it made you pretty angry.

“I would love to sit here and chat, but I got a hero to save!” You smirked as you raced on ahead and grabbed Deku, pulling him out of the chains before the villains had any time to react. Standing next to the hero you where slightly taller (mind you he hasn’t grown since high school so that wasn’t really anything to brag about being taller then him).

”HELLPPP!!!” A scream shouted from Kastuki, your eyes widened as you sprinted off to get the number three hero. Deku closely followed you as he got his quirk ready. But by the time that you rushed out you knew it was too late. Katsuki had been crushed by the blue flames that wrapped around his body.

“KACCHAN!!!” Deku screamed, DabI whipped his head around and started at the number one hero.

”You idiot!“ You hissed as you grabbed Deku’s arm and made a run for it. Dragging him out into the open where a bunch of other hero’s where’s standing just in case something happened. You noticed that they where busy on their phones and probably didn’t even hear Katsuki screaming for help. You rushed Deku to the side of the red brick building and waited for a ambulance to come pick Deku up. Once they carried him away you narrowed your eyes at the pro-hero’s.

”I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I AM GOING TO KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY IF YOU ACT LIKE THAT AGAUN!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRESS YOU PUT US THROUGH??? DYNAMIGHT COULD HAVE STILL BEEN ALIVE IF YOU HAVEN’T SAT ON YOUR ASS ALL DAY AND ACT LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING SLUTS!! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO RIP ALL OF YOUR HEADS OFF, FEED THEM TO MY DOG, MAKE MY DOG SHIT OFF A BRIDGE AND SEE THE SHIT SMEERED ON THE TIRE, GET A LIGHTER AND BURN THE CAR DOWN, TAKE THE ASHES AND PUT THEM IN A GROUND, I WILL TAKE THE GROUND WHERE THE ASH IS AND MAKE IT A STRIPER CLUB, AND THEN GET A EXORCIST TO PUT YOU TO HELL!!!” You started cussing them off, the pro-hero’s shuffled uncomfortably and looked at each other with weird stares. They knew that they where in shit when they pissed you off. You weren’t very easy to piss off so when somebody pissed you off they knew they were in deep horse shit.

*** You rushed into the hospital bed where Deku was at. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stood on the edge of the male’s bed and watched as thick tears streamed down his face. You grew soft and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down baby…I am here…” You reassured, slowly climbing on the bed and getting on him. Deku gulped thickly at the closed distance between the two of you and began sweating nervously.

“Y/n!“ You yelped, trying to scoot back. You looked up at him and gave the male a cocky smile.

“What? Are you suggesting something?” You leaned in and whispered in Deku‘s ears. Deku whined before nodding his head ‘yes‘ you rolled your eyes and began to unbutton your shirt. Popping out a few buttons in the process. Gently, you pulled down your panties and threw them to the side, lifting up your skirt and showing your ass to Deku. Deku trembled slightly and started licking at the entrance, slowly, he began eating you out. You moaned quietly before bucking Your hips backwards. Deku gasped before moaning also and continuing to do his work. Once Deku are you out for a few minutes you pulled away and Deku looked at you with large puppy dogs eyes. His Greek emerald eyes blown wide in lust.

You leaned down and took off his pants with your teeth, dragging your nails up his clothed hero uniform shirt. Deku bucked his hips up and whimpered. You smirked into the material. Once you actually got the pants down you slipped off his boxers and starting to get settled on Deku.

You and Deku had this off and on thing. You guy’s weren’t dating each other and fucked other people but it was always a delight when you got to fuck him. A smile always formed on his lips when you topped him. He always thought that everyone was going to leave him to be the top, so it was reassuring when he saw that somebody cared about him enough to dom him and show him who is in control.

You where snapped back into reality when Deku gasped in shock as you took him all in, groaning slightly at the fact that you took him with such ease because he has been in you so much. Slowly you waited for yourself to adjust (which didn’t take that long) before you started bouncing up and down. Deku threw his head back and moaned loudly as felt your walls clench around him. You kept bouncing on him up and down in a rhyme pattern.

“Come on baby, thought you liked it…” You pouted, looking down on the green haired hero and smiling cockily.

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

Title: Ructare florem tristitiae

Summary: Allen Walker’s feelings bubble up his throat, flower petals spilled on his father’s grave, for the Akuma, who will never get proper burials. Ructare florem tristitiae, Cross Marian diagnoses, grief flowers.

Parasitic type Exorcists never live for long; carries of Hanahaki should die even quicker.

Allen is determined to make the best of it.

Rosa bracteata

His name was Allen, his father was dead, and he’s choking, drowning in his grief, spilling his guts in the graveyard. His shoulders shook and he heaved until he collapsed, fingernails clawing at his skin until they left red scratches. Metal in his mouth as he vomited roses that, under all the blood from thorns tearing up his throat, were white.

“You want me to retrieve Mana Walker?” the grinning clown asked, curiously staring down at him.

Another rose petal fell from Allen’s mouth as he screamed his father’s name.

Ornithogalum umbellatum

Cross was too late.

His mistake couldn’t be any clearer, standing in front of Mana’s grave, holding a casket that was bound to be empty, looking at a child that was meant to disappear. Allen’s face was covered by blood, and thus Cross did not pay any attention to the flowers surrounding him as he picked Nea’s host up and carried him to safety.

The little brat never should have been caught up in this war of theirs and Cross almost wanted to laugh at the irony of a Noah’s host being so deeply connected to Innocence, it took over his body. Laughing, drinking, and sex would certainly be better distractions than screaming in rage and lashing out at a kid that couldn’t be blamed for any of this, but right now, Cross couldn’t afford to do either.

All he had left were the curses he could hiss under his breath as the child screamed himself hoarse from the pain, choking until Allen threw up on him, the remains of lunch and flower petals ruining his shirt.

“Fuck no,” Cross exhaled, fingers twitching for a cigarette. “Since when does the brat have fucking Hanahaki?”

Mother only huffed. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you know since you watched him?”

“Well, he certainly wasn’t spitting up little snowdrops when he was running around with Mana!”

No, when the two clowns had been traveling together, Mana had been the one choking on the same red poppies he’d always cried for his brother. Fucking Nea, this better be worth it. From a scientist to an Exorcist to a nanny for traumatized little Noah hosts, who pissed their bedding.

“Those aren’t snowdrops,” Mother said, picking at the few flowers Cross had cleaned off the blood. “Aren’t you a bad priest that you can’t even recognize these?”

“Why the fuck should I recognize any flowers—”

“Stars of Bethlehem!”

Cross turned to the door where Barba was standing with Allen’s clean sheets, pointing excitedly at the little flowers. “Those are stars of Bethlehem. I’ve always wanted to decorate with them for Christmas because of the name, but they’re pretty sad flowers.”

Sad flowers, huh? “What do they mean?”

“Atonement,” Barba replied. “And reconciliation, guilt, and fear.”

Sighing, Cross leaned back in his chair and grabbed the entire bottle of wine. “Of course, the brat has grief flowers.”

Parasitic Innocence and Hanahaki? Nea better woke up soon, or the boy might die before he had the chance to erase him.

Calendula officinalis

Allen’s new Master was a bastard, so unlike Mana that he wanted to scream and return to his grave, spill more father’s day gifts and stars. But if he returned to Mana without having saved a single soul, he could never forgive himself.

And thus Allen stayed, carried his bags, found a routine with his Master, wondering when he’d finally learn how to use his Innocence against those Akuma.

“Hurry up, stupid apprentice, we’re going to be late.”

“Late where—” Allen froze as his gaze stopped at a lone man in the crowd and his left eye suddenly exploded in pain as his vision changed, shifted, and the man turned into a shadow, a skeleton wrapped in chains and guts, screaming, tearing at their constraints, begging for salvation.

Allen fell to his knees, his father’s screams echoing in his mind as he began coughing, struggling for breath, orange blooms landing on the dirt road.

“Allen— what are you doing!?”

His Master’s voice thundered through the air, commanding and another note he couldn’t identify.

“The man,” he stuttered out, swallowing down the bitter taste, the copper. “The man, Master, he’s like— like Mana!”

Cross’s head whipped up just in time for the man to see them.

And then all hell broke loose.

Tagetes erecta

The marigolds continued to haunt Allen until he learned to swallow down the blooms even as he fought against the Akuma.

No matter the Akuma’s level or origin story, orange petals always begged to leave his mouth. It made their stay in India more taxing than any other, marigold garlands covering the streets at all times. How strange that a flower that had always represented pain and grief to him was celebrated here so. Allen had met quite a few people suffering from the same ailment as him, though the taste of their hurt was a different one; unrequited love, fear, hopelessness – the number of emotions that could evoke Hanahaki seemed to be as varied as the stars above.

Allen had never known which one Mana had suffered from, but his flowers had also never changed, blooming for the same purpose and person.

He stared down at the abandoned bowl, his arm still aching. He had been so careful that any of the marigolds he brought Narain were not stained by those expelled by his body. But now, covered by the Akuma’s blood, it hardly seemed to matter.

They looked just the same.

Mentha arvensis

Allen’s introduction to the Black Order was chaotic. From his meeting with the angry Japanese Exorcist he absolutely did not want to work with ever thank-you-very-much to the confusing words and touch of the guardian Hevelaska. Komui, his superior, seemed like a fun and kind man, one Allen wouldn’t mind working alongside.

This place truly felt like it could become home if one were to believe Lenalee. Allen even had his own room that was his to do with as he liked, given that he didn’t destroy it. That certainly was an entirely new experience.

Allen hadn’t really had a home in a long while, though, when he was just feverish enough, feeling more like a child than an Exorcist, he would consider his Master’s coat on his shoulders shelter his home.

Not that he’d ever admit that to the man out loud.

“Is there anything else we need to know?” Komui asked, looking over Allen’s file, hopefully not cringing too much over Allen’s handwriting. Just because he had gained dexterity didn’t mean that his handwriting was particularly great. “Your personal data isn’t exactly precise.”

Allen tried to keep his smile in place, but he was well aware that his life had gaps. The entire first half of his childhood was one giant black hole, and as much as Allen sometimes wanted to solve that particular mystery, he was sure he hadn’t forgotten for no reason.

Mana’s memories had been full of empty spaces, and that for a good reason too.

Allen still remembered his screams when his nightmares overwhelmed him, begging for his brother to save him, forgive him, stay by his side eternally.

“I’m sorry,” Allen apologized regardless. “I know my background is not that easy.”

Komui only smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Allen. We care more about your own welfare now than anything else.”

His throat tickled and he desperately wanted to believe Komui, perhaps a bit naively too as his childhood self would condemn, but he tasted mint and knew it was for naught. Komui might care, God, the man had given everything so he could be here with his sister, but that didn’t speak for the entire Order.

“There actually is one more thing,” Allen admitted. “I have grief flowers.”

Komui’s eyes widened, fear and pity flashing through them. “How long?”

“Since General Cross took me in,” Allen said, knowing that for most, that would mean he was as close to death as he could be. “But I have it handled. My Innocence keeps me steady and heals my lungs.”

It was probably not as good of a reassurance as the man was hoping for, but it was all Allen could give. As always, he was lacking.

Lathyrus odoratus

Dealing with Innocence always interfered with his sickness. His own shard kept him healthy enough to continue on even if the number of flowers he’d displaced over the years should have long since killed him.

“What the hell, moyashi?” Kanda shouted as Allen doubled over in front of Lala and Guzol, covering the sand with blood, baby’s breath and sweet peas. Baby’s breath was nothing new given the presence of Innocence. Allen had filled Maria’s casket with it multiple times already, but he knew the sweet peas were for Lala, the sentient doll, and her dearly beloved human, her accommodator.

“Let her sing,” Allen begged through the pain, wheezing, still pathetic and weak. “Let her sing, please.”

And they remained as they were.

Gypsophila paniculate

God’s true apostle was a little girl that made Allen freeze. No matter how much he wanted to fight, to protect the world he had learned to love with his father’s smiles and jokes, he couldn’t anymore, his eye destroyed, bleeding.

Time running out and out and out until—

Rewind.

Miranda’s Innocence, baby’s breaths on his tongue, was as cruel as it was kind, giving Allen more time to fight, to understand, to choke down the marigolds as Road ordered the self-destruction of the Akuma and he watched that screaming soul disintegrate.

He knew there would be a price to pay.

The Noah’s door, a checkered form that seemed so familiar, closed and Allen stumbled back to Miranda’s side. Sweet reassurances were all it took to get her settled, to allow time to return to them.

Allen blacked out with a cough so deep, he thought he was crying at Mana’s grave again.

Papaver nudicaule

Lavi was curious by nature. It was the reason Bookman had picked him in the first place. Their kind needed to be curious, interested in the world, but only ever as its silent observers. Bookman Junior could recite his entire lecture on the topic, the ever repeated ‘know your duties’. Junior knew that he wasn’t Bookman’s first apprentice, and given how much Bookman insisted that Lavi stayed impartial, he knew there was a story to discover, history to inherit someday.

But for now, he had to chat up the Destroyer of Time.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Lavi said with a mild smile. “Yu-chan already told me so much about you!”

Kanda had been unusually chatty, complaining about Allen Walker for minutes, which was as good as ranting for an hour for normal people. Lavi had learned a lot about Allen during that time, mainly his sickness being of interest to Junior. The number of people suffering from Hanahaki was low enough that they had yet to find a proper cure or cause.

There were enough speculations, the church was particularly fond of going on about Eve and Lilith, Eden’s curse, but it was as good an explanation as a shrug and a disinterested ‘I don’t know’.

Although, perhaps, remembering the glass of flowers in his coat pocket, a cure had been found, just not one readily available for the masses.

“Here! Miranda collected them for you. It’s tradition in Germany to save them.”

Lavi handed Allen the glass full of yellow poppies before the youth could protest, waiting to see what his reaction would be. He had already gathered that Allen was used to his sickness, had learned how to live with them.

These flowers should not surprise him.

And yet they did, the boy almost dropping the glass when he saw what was inside.

“Poppies,” Allen breathed, his face twisting into shock, the kind of which Lavi had never seen before. “But they’re Mana’s—”

Mana Walker, the father that had been turned into an Akuma.

Lavi had to hold back a grin.

This was bound to be interesting.

Roseanne giganteus carnivorus

Roots took ahold of Allen’s heart and lungs and he reminded himself repeatedly that Mana loved him, that he had friends now and a home, that he was cared for. His father may have cursed him, but only so Allen would have something to live for so that he’d continue and not plant his roots at his father’s grace and let his body decay to feed the soil.

“I never wondered if Akuma could love,” Allen confessed to Lavi while Krory was still knocked out, head resting against the window of the train. “I thought them incapable of forming positive relationships unless they were modified.”

“Modified?” Lavi echoed, keen eyes, fake smile.

Took a liar to find another.

Eliade had felt something for Krory, even if it might just have been possessiveness, staking her claim on her victim and prey, waiting for the Innocence to get strong enough that its destruction would be interesting.

I love you, Mana’s words rang in his ears.

The flowers settled.

Glaucium flavum

The Exorcist cheated them right out of their money, and if Tyki didn’t feel like there was something familiar about the boy, he would have ripped his Innocence and heart out right there. He’d learned restraint, how to curb Joyd’s hunger. It had been insufferable when he’d still been a child, giving in to pleasure much too quickly.

But the three Exorcists right in front of him were taunt and temptation.

And still, Tyki resisted, especially once he got close enough to that white-haired menace to catch his scent. He’d excused himself after one round, saying he needed to freshen up. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth.

“You smell like flowers, menino,” Tyki commented, watching as the boy quickly wiped blood from his mouth, something yellow disappearing down the drain. “Hanahaki?”

Fraude A flinched, looking like he’d been caught in the act. The cheerful if devious demeanor from before had all but faded away, leaving behind an exhausted teenager. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and the Innocence in his hand must be sucking away at his lifespan as well.

What wouldn’t Tyki give to turn that crystal into dust, play savior for this damned child.

“It’s not contagious,” the boy said immediately, probably thinking that Tyki was one of those fools who avoided flower bearers like the plague.

“I know,” Tyki said. “Don’t worry about it, menino. You seem to be doing as well as you can. I want to ask about your sickness if you don’t mind.”

The boy eyed him suspiciously but nodded.

“The child we have with us, Eeez, he has Hanahaki as well. His family threw him out because they could not afford to care for his health.”

Not that Tyki and his friends could afford his treatment either. Whenever Eeez, Momo, and Clark slept, Noah’s third disciple reached far into the lungs of the boy and ripped out the flowers stealing his breath, drenched his fingers in blood to see the child take another pathetic breath.

“Oh.” Understanding flashed over Fraude’s face. “Which kind?”

“Fear,” Tyki replied and there was so much to fear for weak little human boys in a world as cruel as theirs. “And you?”

“Grief,” the boy said, almost apologetic as if he’d trade his variant for a chance to help Eeez. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t offer you any help. My method of coping won’t work for him.”

Flores de tristeza and an Exorcist, the boy was truly detested by fate.

“I understand.” Oh, he did. That parasite leeching on the boy’s lifespan kept him alive, healed him over and over again so he could keep fulfilling its cursed mission. Tyki wondered what his lungs looked like, whether they were entirely scarred over. “Thank you still, menino.”

Aquilegia atrata

Lenalee was excellent at reading people, even if she couldn’t keep up with Lavi. It was a skill she had learned out of necessity during all her attempts at escaping the Order, searching for weaknesses in her guards, moments where their attention slipped just enough for her to throw herself out of the high towers they kept her in.

No matter how much Allen lied and cheated and smiled, Lenalee could see that it wasn’t true.

And that he was putting too much pressure on himself.

Surrounded by all the Akuma, hunting down Allen’s Master, the fall was inevitable.

Lenalee just hoped she would be there to catch him when it was the time as Komui had been there for her.

Dianthus caryophyllus

Innocence was good and holy.

God’s dearly beloved crystal, sent to save humanity.

Allen had known this deep in his heart, had clung to it when the appearance of his arm had still made him insecure because it gave him purpose. He was not so foolish as to think himself special, one of God’s chosen, but he chose to believe that Innocence mattered.

That it was kind and protected.

“I’m sorry,” Suman Dark apologized under tears he could not cry as Allen kept on screaming, begging him to live and go on, no matter how much the Innocence was eating away at him.

This couldn’t be true; it shouldn’t happen. His own Innocence would never do this to him, had it loved and protected him even against his own father. Yet it was failing him when Allen tried to dig through the violet butterflies, the violent pain. His shoulders trembled terribly as he swallowed down the sharp taste of carnations burning him as much as the artificial insects left nothing of Suman behind.

Cercis siliquastrum

“Fraude A?” Tyki exclaimed, surprised, though he knew he shouldn’t be. He had known that the tristeza boy had been an Exorcist, these plagues liked to flaunt it after all, with their shiny expensive uniforms, and he’d known that they’d eventually clash on the battlefield.

He had just, foolishly perhaps, hoped that it would be a fair battle, one where the boy could give it his all despite his failing, scarred lungs.

Allen Walker.

How pitiful that his name was on Tyki’s list.

“Don’t worry,” Tyki told him. “It doesn’t hurt.”

His words weren’t even a lie, and Tyki knew he could very easily put the boy to rest without him feeling a thing, and yet, he couldn’t help explain his work, act it out, because he wanted to leave his mark on his victim, have Allen Walker grieve flowers for him.

So Tyki crushed his hand, his Innocence, destroyed it with Dark Matter, let the Tease bite into his heart, and left the boy in tears.

Taking his dying breaths, unable to spit any flowers for Tyki. With a grin, he reached deep into the boy’s lung, retrieving judas tree blooms and a silver button.

How sad.

Tyki had hoped for poppies.

Bellis perennis

Allen lay on the ground, his Innocence above him as mist as he struggled for breath. It had never been this bad before. He couldn’t remember a single time where his flowers had been coated in so much blood, he couldn’t tell which kind it was right from the bat.

“You can’t overdo it,” Fo told him, rolling back on her feet almost playfully if not for the severity of the situation. “Your Innocence isn’t healing you anymore.”

I know, Allen wanted to reply. I know, I know, and it is all my fault.

He only wanted to continue on, do as he always had, push through the pain, and fulfill his purpose. Why was it so difficult, why did he struggle so much? Did his Innocence think him a betrayer, nothing worth saving anymore?

Please, he begged into the quiet, his flowers for the first time since he’d started blooming posing a threat to him. I just want to do my duty.

He grabbed his bloodied flowers with his one good hand and thought about springtime and Mana teaching him how to make daisy chains.

Tagetes lucida

Marigolds were comforting, almost. Allen could feel his throat put itself back together, healing as his body still decided to punish him. He wondered whether the other parasitic Exorcists had felt like this as well, torn between being weapon and host, beloved friend and tool.

He wondered what it might have been like for Maria to be the host of Innocence and spit flowers whenever she needed her throat to sing.

He wondered what her Innocence’s name had been once upon a time before it had become nothing more than Grave of Maria.

(Wondered whether his Master loved him enough to turn him into a doll to be used for battle as Allen would want.

Whether Cross Marian loved him too much to do so.)

“Tell me where my friends are,” Allen ordered and the Akuma complied, truth tasting like marigolds and poppies.

Rosa bracteata: Macartney rose – white rose, typically given to fathers

Flower list

Ornithogalum umbellatum: Star of Bethlehem – atonement for crime, reconciliation, guilt and fear

Calendula officinalis: marigold – pain and grief

Tagetes erecta: marigold

Mentha arvensis: mint – suspicion, lack of trust

Lathyrus odoratus: sweet pea – goodbye, departure

Gypsophila paniculate: baby’s breath – innocence, pure at heart

Papaver nudicaule: poppies

Roseanne giganteus carnivorus: Rosanne from canon

Glaucium flavum: poppies

Aquilegia atrata: purple columbine – driven to win

Dianthus caryophyllus: yellow carnation – disdain, disappointment, rejection

Cercis siliquastrum: judas tree – betrayal, unbelief

Bellis perennis: daisy – innocence, purity, new beginnings

Tagetes lucida: marigold

#dgm #allen walker #tyki mikk #lavi #cross marian #d gray man #fanfic

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obaewankenobis · 3 years

Text

for forever — obi-wan kenobi

pairing(s) : obi-wan kenobi x reader ( mostly focused on obi-wan’s character, not the relationship because i am a hoe for this man )

summary : after the fall of the jedi order, you can finally be together. alternatively, obi-wan needs therapy/deserves happiness.

word count : 2.1k

warning(s) : character death, a bit of angst i guess but it’s mostly fluff.

notes : roughly edited so i apologize if things don’t make sense, i honestly came up with this on a whim and have No Idea what was going through my head when i wrote this. the povs also switch a lot but enjoy </3.

The sand bit at his fair skin, the grainy winds of Tatooine ruffled through his auburn locks, peppered with strands of grey, as Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, rigid and grief stricken. Kind wrinkles framed his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion and desolation, the memory of a thousand wars flickering in the brilliant blue reflection. Without speaking, the woman looking at him from afar knew he had suffered a lifetime of hardship and grief, his aching heart not given a moment to mourn the loss of those closest to him. The mahogany cloak billowed around his body, covering the burnt, tattered tan robes he wore, as the wind picked up, signaling there would be little time before the twin suns set and it was much too dangerous to be outside. Snuggled between the lone man’s arms, swathed in soft cream blankets to shelter him from the cruel and unforgiving weather, was a baby. With sea blue eyes and the sparse tufts of pale blonde hair, the newborn was the mirror image of his father — that in itself was bittersweet.

Fire. That was all Obi-Wan could remember, the smoldering lava confining him and his enemy — once his friend, his brother — inside a tight circle of flashing blue and blazing rage. Now, things were blissfully quiet, as if the universe was trying to give him peace of mind after what it had taken from him. With heavy shoulders and hollow eyes, Obi-Wan was a shell of who he used to be: a great warrior and an excellent negotiator, all gone. His last mission was here, on Tatooine, to deliver the baby to his aunt and uncle: Owen and Beru Lars. Then, he would spend the rest of his years wasting away in a sandy prison, languishing in his defeat.

“Is it true?” The woman from afar, who had taken to staring at him from a distance, finally approached him, awaiting his answer with bated breath — Beru. Is it true? The words reverberated in his head, as the reality came crashing down upon him. The woman in front of him needed certainty, she needed answers, answers Obi-Wan could not give her.

“Yes,” came the final reply. Who knew a single word could hold such heavy meaning? Yes. An entire government who’s history spanned hundreds of years prior collapsed within a single day? Yes, that had happened. His religion, who he had devoted his entire life to and poured his soul into, gone? Yes, decimated without a sliver of mercy. The baby’s father, the hero of the galaxy, the crown jewel of the Jedi Order, killed? Yes, murdered in cold blood.

Beru finally brought her attention to the boy nestled within the robes of the man. “Is he . . . ” She seemed to only speak in half questions, as if finishing the sentence would make it a harsh reality, and leaving the query to hang heavy in the air would somehow leave her life in a fairytale.

“Yes,” he replied again, nearly choking on his words as the boy let out a tiny coo, as if he sensed they were discussing him.

“Oh.” There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation, before the woman decided to continue her pattern of half inquiries to form her own story. “May I?” With shaking arms, Beruu reached forward to take the boy from Obi-Wan’s grasp and welcome the baby into her own warm embrace. Part of him didn’t want to let the child go, for once he did he would have no real connection to his past life. Letting go of the boy meant letting go of everything, from his first steps in the Temple, to his meeting with his apprentice on Naboo, to the countless, sleepless nights in a war torn galaxy, it would all be gone. The woman’s tender smile and patient gaze was nearly patronizing, she was trying to sympathize with something she couldn’t possibly understand. No one could. A wave of fury washed over him, trapping him in a cage of his own emotions. Obi-Wan had never felt such an intensity roll over his body, preferring to keep his temperament a tranquil, emotionless pit. But this raw, uncontrollable fury was soon washed out with an even more overpowering bout of sorrow, shaking him with such force it made his knees wobble and threaten to give way. For over thirty years he was taught emotions were the enemy, by being detached and aloof he would survive, and look where that had gotten him.

Another soft cry from the baby jerked Obi-Wan back into the present moment, as his tiny arms reached for the woman, drawn to her sunny kindness and comforting aura; he realized a place to call home or a comforting shoulder to cry on was never something he could offer as the baby grew older. The woman made a small clicking sound with her tongue, looking up at Obi-Wan with an expectant gaze, and yet his grip on the baby remained the same. Although his mind seemed desperate to listen to logic, to reason, his body remained motionless, following the dull ache and painful longing in his heart. The battle between his mind and emotions lasted a fraction of a second, and at last, as it had time and time again, his mind won.

Like he had done all his life, selflessly sacrificing himself for thee good of the galaxy, he let go.

The woman took the baby in her arms, and began her journey back to her homestead, pausing just slightly to exchange one last parting smile and a word of comfort. “I think someone wants to see you, Master Kenobi.” With that, Beru began walking, a happy baby in her arms, to her husband, just as the sky merged from clear blue to salmon pink and hazy orange, the twin suns beginning to disappear over the horizon rapidly. As the light dimmed and dusk settled in, the man could make out the shadowy figures of Beru and Owen Lars, holding Luke Skywalker in unmoving content.

Here to see me? Obi-Wan frowned, reflecting on the woman’s words. This was not his home, his very identity was supposed to remain a secret, who could possibly want to see him? Unless . . .

No, that was impossible. He had mourned your death just as he had mourned every other Jedi’s death the moment their own clones turned against them, and he would not allow even a tiny sliver of hope to crawl its way back into his heart. Because in the end, he could only cling to the belief that things would get better, and false hope in such a desperate time would be his undoing.

—

You wondered how long you could stand in the shadows before he noticed you, standing awkwardly by his dewback as he delivered Padmé and Anakin's son to his new family. Like Obi-Wan, you had suffered the loss of everything and everyone you knew, your entire life destroyed in the span of a second, and all you could do was stand there, watching everything burn. The Jedi robes you once wore with pride, robes that were once a symbol of humility and hope across the galaxy, now put a priceless bounty on the head of anyone who wore them.

“Obi-Wan?” The name was dry in your throat, mouth parched and lips cracked due to the harsh Tatooine heat.

Though he was always subtle, you could see his entire demeanor change, the way his shoulders became straighter, the way his hands, once balled up into fists of worry, were now relaxed and laying loosely at his side. In a moment, he had turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, caramel boots growing dull and scuffed as he stepped through the unforgiving desert surface beneath him. “You’re alive,” his voice came out in a hushed, cautious tone, disbelief still tainting the edges. “I thought — Yoda and I — the only ones left — ” his words grew more jumbled with each passing phrase that left his lips.

“But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off, the calm gentleness of your tone making him stop in his tracks. Slowly, each movement pained and deliberate, you stepped closer, inching your way forward until he was right in front of you. Neither of you could look away; with the Jedi Order dead, there was no reason to hide in secrecy now.

—

To realize he was not alone was comforting, but to know it was you he could seek company in was freeing. In that moment, with the distance so close between your bodies, Obi-Wan dared not breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out the smallest of breaths — this was all he had ever wanted, and still, despite everything, it was something he believed he could never have.

He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Not after he spent all those years repressing the desire that burned so deeply within him it began to rot within his heart, trapped with no release in sight. At one point, he had every reason to deny the yearning stirring within him, but now? Now there was no war, no Council, no code, no nothing to stop himself from unleashing decades of pent up turmoil within him.

And stars, it was suffocating.

He couldn’t do this.

“You know you don’t have to push me away any more.” A suggestion more than a factual statement; voice thick and barely audible.

Was this a dream, a fantasy meant to be chased after in his sleep? Or some sick, twisted premonition the Force was trying to convey to him? So many nights he had spent languishing in his loneliness, dazed in a delusion that remained but a figment of his imagination.

“I know.”

“What?”

“The Jedi are no more. We . . . We don’t have to pretend we don’t have — ” The words were bittersweet on his tongue; even with no one there to watch and scold him, he could not betray his way of life so easily. That everyone I have ever loved, I have watched die in my arms? And throughout all of that, I have never been tempted by the dark side, but if I lost you, I would be afraid of my own morality? Those were not easy thoughts to formulate into a coherent sentence — there were no words Obi-Wan could say that would even begin to describe how he felt.

Instead, in a tender gesture of vulnerability, he reached out through the Force, and all at once it came crashing down on him.

This feeling . . . it was all consuming, and he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water and not surrender to its frosty depths. He was submerged in an endless stretch of icy ocean water so frigid and numbing, that he felt nothing and everything all at once. It was terrifying to think — and let you know — you held so much power over him, but in the same instance, he felt at peace, like a weight he had dragged around for decades was finally lifted off his shoulders. I love you, rang as bright as the city lights on Coruscant and as clear as a Nabooian waterfall. I love you.

“I love you, too.” He heard your voice in a soft whisper, swelled up with emotion as you took in everything. Chills erupted down his spine; he couldn't quite tell if it was from the inky blanket being tugged across the sky as dusk descended into nightfall, or if it was the four word phrase that left your lips.

—

“I cannot live without you,” Obi-Wan let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning across your face just slightly, your foreheads making contact in the lightest movements. You felt dizzy, in a dreamlike trance, for you had never been this close to him. You could see every horror he had survived in his glassy blue eyes, notice every perfect imperfection that blemished his skin and made him all the more real. In a moment, his face had become blurred as he closed the distance and finally, finally, his lips were on yours, and you connected in a long awaited, eternally sought after kiss. You could feel his hands, calloused but gentle, cupping your face, as your own fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, the kiss grew more fervent and needy, every rule you had ever lived by crumbling as you melted deeper into his touch.

After a long moment, you broke away, breathless, your face still tantalizingly close to his.

“I will never leave you, Obi-Wan,” your lips parted in a determined vow, a promise you would keep to your dying breath. The Jedi were dead, and yet you never felt more alive.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #star wars #angst #probably should edit this #obi-wan needs a hug #and some therapy too #post order 66 #revenge of the sith #prequel trilogy #star wars prequels #one shot

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louiseleblancdiggory · 3 years

Text

Will you marry me?

I have talked about how pregnancy and infertility are two subjects that hit very close to home here a while ago. Sensitive topics for me, and I found out that writing about it whenever it pops into my mind sometimes helps. This is a very small, very simple thing that just appeared in my head yesterday while I played Mahjong at three in the morning. I hope you guys find it is as beautiful to read it as it was calming for me to write it.

Warnings: Infertility

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you give me the honor to be your husband?”

“No.”

For a second too long, Rowan didn’t register the word. In his mind, there was no reality in which Aelin wouldn’t accept his proposal. He had planned everything— taken her to their favorite restaurant, then to the spot on the park where they first met four years ago, made a beautiful speech, and, when he got on one knee, Rowan was sure Aelin was beaming.

But now, his girlfriend was just looking down at the ring with a sad smile.

Rowan didn’t know what to say, how to act. He was sure Aelin didn’t want to end things, so maybe she just wasn’t ready for marriage? That was such a foreign thought to Rowan, specially after the fact that they had talked about marriage for the past five months. Aelin was ready, she had said as much so many times, and yet her answer had been no.

“No?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded. He didn’t want to pressure her into accepting, he just didn’t know how to recompose himself quickly enough so she wouldn’t realize how his heart was shattering inside his chest. “Why?”

The word was barely louder than a whisper, but Aelin heard it anyways. Rowan knew because her sad smile just deepened, and when she grabbed his hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Come here.”

Still in some state of shock, Rowan let her pull him towards a bench nearby, the moon and some far away street lampposts their only company. The glow they casted had made Rowan thought that the park looked like a dream before he proposed to Aelin.

Now it was more of a sweet nightmare.

Aelin sat down, still holding Rowan’s hands. She stared at their laced fingers for so long that, after a few minutes, Rowan thought she wasn’t going to say anything, get up, and walk away.

“I had lunch with Lysandra three days ago.” She said, her tone barely above a whisper and yet her words sounded so loud as they ricocheted through the empty park. Rowan couldn’t understand how having lunch with Lysandra had to do with her refusal, and yet he found himself hanging on every word that escaped her lips as if they were food to a starved man.

“I know.” He said when she fell silent again.

“We had lunch at the hospital, I was doing my yearly check up.” She continued, still staring at their hands as if she couldn’t bear looking at his face. At the mention of the doctor, accompanied by the seriousness of her voice, Rowan’s shock was immediately substituted with terror. “Everything was normal, I did some exams and went home.”

He didn’t say anything, too scared to say a word, to ask a question.

“Some results came back yesterday.” Aelin took a deep breath, finally raising her head to look at Rowan’s face. Her turquoise and gold eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she gave him a smile that would have destroyed his heart if it wasn’t already shattered. “You want to be a dad, Ro.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed, his mind trying to catch up with what she was saying. “Yes?”

Aelin shrugged, raising her eyes to look at the moon rather than looking at him. “And I can’t be a mom.”

His mind was still trying to catch up to her words, to wrap every single inch of attention he had in his body around the meaning of what she was saying, of what she was implying. A lonely tear slid down Aelin’s cheek, and if she wasn’t gripping his hands so fiercely, Rowan would have wiped it away.

He didn’t say anything— didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she even wanted him to say anything. Some things were inconsolable, and the only thing anyone could do to the person was just sit there in silence and let them get it all out.

Aelin’s beautiful and sad face slid back to him, small and sad smile still gracing her lips. She looked so heartbroken, so lost that Rowan wanted to destroy the thing causing her pain.

But this time there was nothing he could do.

“I am infertile.” She said out loud, more to herself than to him, he realized. By the look on her face, by her posture and the way she spoke, Rowan guessed that was the first time she was saying it out loud. She straightened her spine, staring deep into his eyes. “I am infertile. I can’t have children of my own.”

Rowan silently nodded, not uttering a word as he realized she wasn’t done talking.

“Completely infertile. No treatment, no chance of a miracle, no nothing. I will never get pregnant, Rowan.” Her face was a mixture of anguish, confusion, and, deep down, a small parcel of acceptance. “I won’t get the big belly, the pregnancy cramps. I don’t get my ultrasounds, belly kicks, and first cry. I don’t get the excitement of using a pharmacy pregnancy test, or the thrill of looking at a screen while a nurse rubs that thing against my belly to know the baby’s sex. I don’t get any of that.”

“Ace…”

“And I wanted all that.” She said, determined even as Rowan heard her throat closing up against the words. “Always have.”

Rowan nodded, squeezing her hands. “I know.”

And he did. Every time they talked about the future, Aelin included kids. Always said she wished to be a mom, wished to have a large family. She herself hadn’t had that when she was younger. Her parents died before she could form any memories with them, and Aelin jumped from house to house until she was adopted when she was twelve. For the longest time after that, it had been only Aelin and Darrow. During her first year of college he helped her learn more about her family— which led to her discovering the existence of Aedion and Gavriel.

She let go of Rowan’s hands, cleaning her face from her tears before looking at him.

“And it is something that hurts— knowing I won’t have it. But it is also something that I need to learn how to live with, because it won’t go away.” She looked so determined, so resolute that Rowan allowed himself a small spark of pride amongst the grief raging inside his chest for his girlfriend. “And it hurts like a bitch now, and it will probably never be something I am happy or even comfortable with, but I will learn how to deal with it. How to wake up everyday and learn more and more until it’s a sad reminder that sometimes pops into my mind, not a soul crushing fact.”

“Aelin—“ Rowan started even though he didn’t really know what to say.

“And I did not accept your proposal because you deserved to know this fact before tying your life to mine.” Her eyes still held some tears, but none of them fell. “I need you to propose to the whole me.”

“And I do.” Rowan said the second she finished speaking. He cradled her face in between his hand, thumb brushing over her lips. “Ace, I would propose to you no matter what.”

Her face was serious, and she blinked a few times before saying. “So you don’t care the slightest about the infertility? It’s not something that makes you think a second longer about the proposal?”

He nodded. “I don’t. It’s not.”

She took his hands off her face, putting them on his lap. “Then my answer is no.”

“What?”

She shook her head, strawberry golden hair falling from her loose braids. “This is something that should make you think longer, Rowan. This should be something that makes you stop for a second and think about what the future is going to be like. You talked about me getting pregnant before, and so don’t insult me by saying that you absolutely don’t care. You do. Just like me, you care so fucking much. But the difference between me and you is that you have a choice. You’re not infertile, I am. You can go out there and get someone pregnant, that’s not an option for me.”

“Aelin, I—“

“No. I won’t have you like this. I love you, Ro. I love you so fucking much, and I love how you feel you can love me no matter what. But I don’t need rushed and desperate demonstrations of love, not about this. I need a resonate, well thought response to something that is a big fucking deal. I need for you to understand that there will be no miracle here. I need for you to understand that you will see your friends getting pregnant, your friends’ wives getting pregnant. I need for you to understand that I will never carry your children. I love you, Rowan, but I will not be having you resent your abrupt choice to stay with me. I won’t be having you looking at me with any ounce of regret. If you want to marry me, then you will marry all of me.”

“You want me to think.” Rowan said slowly, his mind replaying what Aelin had just said over and over again.

She nodded firmly. “Not for five minutes, not for an hour. I want you to go home and think about it. To look at it and understand it.”

“And then you’ll answer my proposal.” It wasn’t a question.

“If the offer still stands.” She answered anyways.

————————————

Aelin wanted a kid.

She always had. She was good with kids, had loved babysitting during her adolescence. When she graduated from college and opened her own gallery, she made sure to have a fully white room, full of paints, just so kids could come in just to ruin the pristine walls. She loved a baby’s laugh, a baby’s smell, and smile. She loved everything about motherhood.

She would have loved being a mother.

She would love being a mother, Aelin forced her brain to correct itself.

Infertility had been a blow to every single part of her body, and the moment she read the results was like her body was trying to suffocate itself. She hadn’t been immediately overcome with grief, or sadness, or despair. For the following hour after reading the diagnosis, Aelin just sat on the kitchen floor, staring at a cabinet long enough that she almost opened a hole in it.

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, and a part of her simply knew it would always hurt like a bitch. She knew it wasn’t the end of the world, knew there were so many more options, so many new treatments being created, and yet she simply could not bring herself to shove all those feelings away. Couldn’t force herself to pretend as if it didn’t impact her at all.

She could still be a mom— she would be a mom. Adoption had always been a part of her plans. Yes, it was something she had considered doing after getting pregnant, but adoption had been something Aelin was adamant on since she was younger. To be honest, whenever Aelin thought about the future, pregnancy was a one-time thing while she wanted to adopt at least three kids.

Maybe more.

And she would love her kids so intensely, so profoundly, that nothing but absolute love would fill her body. Just like she had been loved after her parents passed and she was adopted by Darrow.

For the first time in five days— since she read the diagnosis— Aelin genuinely smiled.

Life had been hard during the first twelve years of her life. Parents died in a fire when she was eight months, ended in the system, and just jumped around for years. People have a preference for babies, and so as she grew older and remained unadopted, Aelin’s chances of getting her own little family were thinning at the same rate her desperation was growing larger.

And then Darrow appeared.

Darrow, at first glance, reminded Aelin of a superhero movie villain. Always wearing black, a scowl on his face, and rich enough to wipe his own ass with hundred dollar bills. Whenever in public, the businessman was cold and detached, a mentor rather than father. At home, however, he was always simply Da. They never established if that was short for Darrow or for dad, but neither of them cared. Darrow had been her last hope, and he provided her enough to live a happy and comfortable life during her adolescence and young adult years. She would still call him every day, tell him how things were going with Rowan and the gallery.

Darrow had been her only family for so long, and although she loved him unconditionally, she wanted a bigger family.

“Hey, Da.” Aelin said against the phone, leaning on the balcony. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is great, m’eudail. The company is doing better than ever, and I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.” Aelin could hear him moving around, picking up papers as he probably looked for something. “But how are you? You sound different. Did something happen? Rowan?”

Aelin sighed, staring off the balcony. The day was coming to an end, the sunset painting the sky all shades of red, pink, and gold. “No. Yes. Kinda? I don’t know.”

Darrow laughed, a throaty sound Aelin doubted many people ever heard. “Why don’t you explain to me then? I’m smart, but even I can’t be that good of a guesser.”

“I’m infertile, Da.” Aelin whispered against the phone.

“Oh, m’eudail…” Aelin heard her Da’s voice full of pain for her, even when he was miles away. “I am so sorry.”

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “Me too. Cried like a baby for the past days, but you’ll be proud to know that I have reached a resigned form of acceptance. I always wanted to get pregnant and adopt, well, a small change in plans, but not the end of the world.”

“You’re allowed to be sad.”

“I know. I am.”

“But I am proud nonetheless.” Darrow said, and Aelin could hear a small smile in his voice. “You’ll be a great mom.”

Aelin smiled. “I know. I will.”

“And Rowan…”

“He proposed.” Aelin sighed, remembering the absolute ecstasy and euphoria that overtook her whole body when Rowan got down on one knee. She wanted to jump on him, laugh, and kiss him until they were both breathless. “Before he knew about the infertility. So I said no.”

All the moving around stopped on Darrow’s end of the call. “You said no?”

“He should know about it before marrying me. Rowan wants to be a dad.”

“He still can.” Da said. “I was.”

“Maybe he wants his wife to carry his biological children.” Aelin shrugged again, heart breaking a little. “Maybe it’s not something he can give up and not look back at it in the future.”

“I have the feeling that boy would give up just about anything for you and never look back, Aelin.” Her Da said, letting out a sigh.

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

Darrow laughed. “Yes. Me and your boyfriend have these weekly heartfelt calls where we talk about our feelings.”

Aelin tried to contain a smile. “It would be fitting. You two have the same emotional availability.”

“We do, and you were the only one ever I ever let this close in my life, my darling daughter. No surprise you’re the only one for him, too.” He sounded as if he was sitting down, and Aelin could almost picture him on his office’s chair, rubbing his temples like he used to whenever she’d get in trouble in school and had to tell him. “Rowan’s a smart boy. Practical. I suppose you gave him time to think?”

“Yeah. A few days now.”

“I already know his answer.”

“So you do have heartfelt calls with my boyfriend.” Aelin tried to suffocate some of her nervousness. Her dad was so sure, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to be so confident. And losing Rowan would be such a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Just the thought was a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Darrow laughed, but some concern was present in his voice. “Ae—“

“I gotta go, Da.” Aelin said abruptly, interrupting him. “I love you.”

“Love you too, m’eudail.” Darrow managed to say before Aelin ended the call.

Everything was happening both too fast and too slow, and she just needed a fucking moment. She needed a fucking moment to sit down and think about nothing— no worries, no doubts. Nothing. She just wanted to have one single simple day where nothing bothered her.

She stared off the balcony until the sun had fully set, until the moon appeared and the stars started shinning. She stared off the balcony until the evening rush of hundreds of cars was substituted by hundreds of people walking around, going and coming back from places. High heels and sneakers sounded against the cobblestones, loud music from nearby bars sounded louder and louder every minute. The world was buzzing with life.

“Any particular reason why we are staring off the balcony so intently?” A low voice she’d recognize anywhere sounded from the open door separating the balcony and the living room.

Aelin didn’t turn around, and Rowan didn’t take a step forward. They just remained in silence, both looking at what felt like the whole world.

“Have been considering throwing Aedion off here. Asshole ate my box of chocolates.” Aelin murmured, and Rowan huffed a laugh in response, finally taking a step towards her.

Aelin turned around, feeling all the air leave her lungs when she looked at his face. Rowan was so painfully beautiful that Aelin couldn’t help but smile when her eyes fell on his face. He seemed so determined and so hopeful at the same time that Aelin heard her own heartbeats sounding louder than any of the sounds coming from below. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He mimicked her small smile, crossing his arms to stop himself from coming closer. He wanted, but was probably scared that one single abrupt movement would have Aelin bolting away from him. “How are you?”

“Good. Better. I talked to my Da.”

“What did he say?”

“The expected.” She shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Aelin.”

“Rowan.”

“I thought about it.” Rowan said, a small nod of his head. “For the past days, I thought about it and then I thought about what I would tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and Aelin simply assented, not trusting herself with words.

“I want kids. Always have. Different reasons than you, though.” Rowan started, looking directly into her face, eyes never wavering anywhere else. “You wanted a big family because for so long it was just you, and then just you and Darrow. I wanted a big family because I grew up surrounded by so many cousins, so many aunts and uncles, that a small family sounds strange.”

Aelin nodded automatically. She knew that, knew that Rowan’s reasons to want a bigger family and her own reasons were the complete opposite. He had a big family and wanted to remain as such, Aelin had a small one and wanted to change that.

“I might not be the warmest, but I want to be a dad. I’m not giving that up.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered.

Rowan’s eyes deepened, and his brows furrowed slightly. “But I never cared about biological children, Aelin. If— When. When I marry you, I want to adopt. More than one, more than two. I don’t care about you getting pregnant, Ace. It was never about that. I want to marry you, and I want to be the father of your kids. And that’s all. If adoption is our only choice, then I’m gonna make sure it’s our best choice. We’ll build a life great enough that no other possible reality will ever compare to. I’m gonna love you and those kids more than I could ever love anyone else.”

Rowan ended the distance between them, taking Aelin’s face gently and tilting it up. He pressed his lips softly against hers— one time, two times, three times. He kissed her lovingly and so slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

“The only regret I could ever have about you, Fireheart, is the one I would feel every single fucking second if I let you go.” He kissed her again, wiping away tears from her pretty face. “You will be an amazing mother, Ace, and I will try every day to be a good dad. And I will love you so goddamn much every single day that you will never feel like a burden to me, because you are not one. You’ll never be a burden to me, Aelin.”

Aelin passed her arms around Rowan’s neck, chest bursting with so many emotions she could barely breathe. She let out a laugh against Rowan’s lips, damp cheeks touching his. His hands dug into her hair, pulling her face up so he could kiss her properly. It was so sweet and so loving, that if Aelin didn’t fully belong to that man already, that man would have ensured that. His warm lips against hers felt like the answers to so many questions, some that she hadn’t even asked, all ensuring her that they would be fine.

They would be great.

Rowan would always be the one for her, and Aelin would always be the one for him.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, you will give me the honor to be your husband.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” She answered anyways.

A/N: Ok, so this was something. Again, hit very close to home. Different people will react differently to the same situation. The way I write is based on what I have seen, but just know that every reaction is valid. Whether it crushes your soul, or maybe doesn’t impact you at all, know that it is valid. it will always be valid. And that you deserve someone who will never make you feel bad about something you cannot control. You deserve greatness, how you achieve it or what obstacles are in your way don’t matter. You deserve it.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004

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achtung-attitude · 1 year

Photo

Now All-Kill freezes, the breath catching in his throat as Sang-ok’s face stares back at him.

“What’s wrong with you…?” he mutters, “What the hell do you think you’re doing…?” Shizuka, wearing Sang-ok’s face, swallows nervously and doesn’t reply. The Key in her chest remains in its last position.

“Answer me,” the man in black demands. “What do you hope to achieve by wearing that face? I offer you friendship, and you throw it back into my face…! Exploit my grief…? How dare you show me that face and act as though you’re the righteous one!”

With Sang-ok’s mouth, Shizuka says in her own voice, “I’m not doing this because I want to… I HAVE TO DO THIS!!”

A dramatic change comes over All-Kill. Seeing his surrogate son in the flesh, seeing his lips and eyes move as he speaks, even with the wrong voice. Something within him shakes. He sweats heavily. The image of the boy’s charred remains scattered over the roadside beyond his driveway recurs in his mind, like nails screeching down a chalkboard.

Shizuka strains against his arm, trying to remove the Key from her chest. He strains right back to turn the Key to its final position. But he can’t escape the sight of Sang-ok’s face right in front of him. Each time he meets the single eye peering out from under loose black hair, he seems to sweat even heavier. His teeth clench and his face contorts, tortured.

Suddenly, a mighty explosion shakes the house from upstairs. Both combatants jump in fright and lose their balance. With this, the Key is dislodged from Shizuka’s chest. In a flurry of activity, they scramble away from each other. Shizuka drops her Sang-ok disguise immediately as she leaps backwards onto the sofa. For the third time, a standoff occurs. Both combatants exchange intense, hateful glares.

“I… didn’t come to this city for this…” Shizuka seethes. “I didn’t want anything to do with your family or your screwed up way of life…! I didn’t come to destroy anything!!” Hot tears roll down her face. “I JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHO I AM!!!

All-Kill catches his breath. His lips part, preparing to speak, but he clams up when Shizuka points at him violently.

“You…! You guys…! The Congregation attacked me first! Me and the friends I never thought I would have! And when I finally endured through all of that, I… I found Mom, and I got to thinking we could be together… All of us, my new family… Kilo, Jerome, Mom… And Moya…”

She pauses for a moment, a weak smile on her lips. But this quickly vanishes as her lips curl again. “But then you…! You and your clinginess, your greed… You call this a family, but all it really is is a collection! You collect people like toys and slot them into make-believe family positions! And for that, you killed my friends and so many innocent people! I can’t forgive that!!”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #Shizuka Joestar #all-kill #sang-ok park #black keys #ch70

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chloecat48 · 3 years

Text

Up in the air

A/n: Hiya! It’s been a while and I can only apologise for the massive delay. M house got flooded so I needed to get a new laptop, then I lost everything I was working on and the final kick in the teeth has been my parents relationship falling apart so you may be able to see why I’ve been avoiding writing a love story. Despite that writing has been on my mind for a long time and I am determined to carry on writing my Kris Wu fanfic. However I just wanted to get something short and sweet out as a jump back into it. Hope you enjoy. It’s not going to be the best ;)

Gif not mine :( Didn’t do a word count, but I did proof read so I hope it’s okay. It’s also a bit all over the place so apologise.

GOT7 Park Jinyoung x reader (hopefully gender neutral) Demon!Jinyoung x Hunter!Reader. Supernatural kind of vibes, but not from that Universe.

Warning: some violence, strong language, blasphemy? All that lovely stuff really.

Inspired by the Thirty Seconds To Mars song called Up in the air.

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

I’ve been up in the air, out of my head. Stuck in a moment of emotion, I should destroy before it destroys me. In all my time as a hunter, I’d never of seen the dark eyes of Park Jinyoung coming. He was more than just any average man; he was strong, powerful and had a smile that could kill a man, he was- is perfect.

Meting him was like a dream, one that you’d almost believe leap from the pages of a novel, the cover caked in rose petals and warm embraces. The day of his arrival was the opposite, one of melancholy and loneliness. Of course the lifestyle called for this mood regularly, a reminder of all of the laws you’ve broken, loves that you’ve sacrificed, however it was hitting particularly hard and it wasn’t helping that the hunt hand gone south. What should of been a standard vengeful salt and burn turned into a lost of life close to home and a messy fight to live, myself being the only one to walk away. Minhyuk hadn’t been born into this life, dragged into it in some insane attempt to avenge his boyfriend and he most certainly did not deserve to die after all the years of training he’d been through. He was the reason for the dusted crossroads I turned towards, An angel of a man standing before me who was only that in appearance. The promises I’d made to the demon never matched up to anything of interest, my soul seemingly nothing as I’d starred numbly into his uncaring eyes. I was never able to see Minhyuk again. a deal never struck, but for some reason it wasn’t the last I’d see of Park Jinyoung.

Grief had long left me, the last two summers going by without the companionship hurt at first, but faded to a hollow emptiness and slowly to content remembrance. The need for another to share the battles with had only felt stronger during particularly gruesome hunts like the one in the wetter north of the continent, hunting wendigos, yet I found a certain black eyed male would be only a pace behind, unexpectedly cutting me free from captivity before I could feel the end. At first it was just randomly bumping into him during a moment of need, still no trust between us vastly different entities, however over time acceptance of loosely agreed teamwork came into play as it benefited him to have protection against other hunters and myself to have someone watch my back.

That came with a lot of tension on it’s own, clashes about inner nature and the importance of our desires as well as the down right absurdity of the collaboration between hunter and prey, yet watchful and cautious glances between knife fights and playing bait provided confusion of the romantic variety. Jinyoung placing himself between crazed vampires and me was something I became all too used to just as he had when it became a heated debate with a fellow hunter about the demons strange status of being alive. Maybe this is where the feelings started to grow, both of us having felt important to the other on more than a few occasions.

The funny thing we found about a slow growing spark was the lack of support from the outside, Jinyoung’s higher ups concerned for what it would mean to have a demon desire for more than just souls and suffering, for what he might want to become. They believed he’d want to find a way out, a loophole to his black eyed dilemma so that we’d be free to walk away from the lives we found ourselves in and start a new, safer one.

I’d begun to find myself in the big leagues of monsters, Jinyoung trying to help battle off his own kind as they began to try and end the spark before it could burn, to try to kill me. I’d almost lost him once, his body covering mine in an attempt to protect his happiness and it was dawning on me that maybe there was a reason hunters and demons didn’t mix.

A thousand times I’d tempted fate. A thousand times I’d played this game. Yet I hadn’t learnt a thing. With Jinyoung I was up in the air, lost in the night and I never wanted to be found, safe in his arms where nothing could find us.

The day he had to leave was like the day he arrived. His leaders came for him with a promise to spare the bloodshed if he returned, give up on the stupidity of thinking he had a chance at redemption and continued to be what he was. Knowing his love for me it should have been obvious, for his happiness he would follow. He was the love of my life, darkness the light, and this was the portrait of the tortured, him an I.

I’ve been up in the air. Without him life as a hunter began again, the same way it was without him by my side to fight with. Injuries became only minors inconveniences instead of dramatic life altering afflictions, after hunt meals became a sad easy order as opposed to angered disputes of desired flavour and nights were exactly what they were before the not so angelic angel appeared- cold and lonely. I was up in the air, chasing a dream so real, a dream of the easy life together we’d spend the moments before drifting off talking about. The white picket fence and all that, funny for a so called demon to think about.

Alas, I was in my current situation. A call from a concerned man by a name of which I haven’t cared to remember, took me to a incredibly decrepit manor house on the outskirts of the small village. Apparently there had been some not so friendly individuals wondering around the premises, local teens exploring the place and disappearing, that kind of thing. If you’d of asked me I’d of said vampires, however now being covered in blood, most of which is my own, and surrounded by figures with black eyes It’d be save to assume it was demons. Now on the floor, supporting a very pained rib, I could only think about how doomed I was. Maybe one demon was something I could handle, or at least dodge enough to escape from, but the group of 4 was a risk I wasn’t even able to consider.

One of the tall men crouched down as he spoke tauntingly “A little far from home are we little hunter?” Not caring to dignify that with a response I stayed quiet and as an angered reply I received a sharp pain to my shin, his fist wrapped around the limp crushing it. Crying out I spoke through tears, “Just get on with it and kill me.” They all began to laugh. “We’ll where’s the fun in that, hunter?”

“Hmmm, my thoughts exactly. what do you say hunter? Time for a bit of fun?”

The demons surrounding me all turned at the comment, their focus no longer on me and my leg finally free from anymore damage though I couldn’t bring myself to care. Standing tall and firm, surrounded by his own group of black eyed men was Jinyoung. My angel sent from hell. Six others varying in height and build lined up behind Jinyoung all with varying expressions, a couple with slightly scary smiles and some with looks of no expression.

Then there was him. A terrifyingly calm anger lined every curve of his face, his arms crossed and his fists clenched amongst them. I had never been so happy to see him, both from the relief of being saved and for seeing him after so long.

“Ah what are you doing here Park? Want a go? They’ve got a few places left to break before they’re done.” The local demons didn’t seem to think much about Jinyoung’s anger, not until he spoke again.

“I wasn’t talking about them.” I had no time to react and they were on them, Jinyoung and his boys jumping the enemy before they could really process it either. It was all over so quickly I barely took a breath and they had all hit the dusty floor, the six remaining patting down their jackets and clothes. Jinyoung however rushed me the moment he knew it was over, cradling my face within his hands.

“You’re here.”

It was all I could say, tears collecting in my eyes as he continues to stare into my soul. “Of course I am.” He said it so nonchalantly that it took a moment to register. There were moments I could easily forget about his nature, if he was meant to be the worse creation in existence the world was truly blessed.

One of the men, a shorter, but muscly man spoke, reminding me of the audience we had, “Hey Jinyoung, this is great and all, glad you got to them in time, But we need to move. This isn’t going to go down well if we stay.” Jinyoung looked over for a millisecond before turning back to face me, his eyes refusing to leave me for any longer in case I was gone.

“You’re right Jackson, lets go.” Jinyoung gave a slight nod and then moved to lift me up, his arms underneath me to carry me bridal style. My groans of pain made him apologise as he continued to move, more gently but with no less haste.

“What’s going on? How are you here? I thought you had to stay away.” Being in his arms felt like home, however the threat we both faced being together were to great to ignore.

“I can’t stay away from you. I ran and these guys helped.” That explained the boys guarding our front and back, yet didn’t make me feel better about anything else. “But-”

“Take no more.” Brown eyes met mine, starring into me, providing me with so much comfort I found myself realising that I didn’t care. It was him and me, and apparently the six other boys too, but mainly him and me. Nodding back I agreed.

“Take no more.”

As he continued to walk outside, into safety and away from our horrible separation we moved into our future, the demon and the hunter, an entity that I should want to wrap my hands around their neck, but instead it was now with love - for with him I was up in the air, living a dream so real.

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

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Ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader)

Ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, hurt, comfort,

Word count: 1,795 (It wasn’t suppose to be this long, seems I can never write anything shorter than a 1,000 words.)

Summary: Lone phone booth, broken hearts and empty words, promises he tries to keep. Wanting to make his way back with the sunshine.

Notes: Let me start by saying I’m sorry but I’m not really. You may need tissues. Written for the very lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog for Writer Wednesday. I figured since last weeks was fluffy I’d break out a little angst for this week. Set before and right after the events in Triple Frontier. Inspired by the amazing Bill Withers song “Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.”

“You’re promised no more trips, you’d stay home help raise Luciana, be here,” last words whispered more to yourself than to the man standing opposite. Knowing what you signed up for being the girlfriend of a military man. It’s different now though he’s out, no more deployments to places all God knew about. Going weeks, mostly months without seeing him. Warm body held tightly in your arms when he came home, soothing the nightmares that followed.

Dropping his head, chin resting on his chest not wanting to look into those hurt eyes. For anyone else he’d say no but these fella’s are family, you know this having taken them all in like brothers. Frankie understood your anger more directed at the fact he’s leaving you alone when he’s promised that would never happen again. “I’m sorry mi amor,” raising his head to stare at you. Crystalline tears catch light from the near by lamp glinting mockingly. Knowing sorry isn’t enough empty words and promises laying bare between the both of you.

“How…” arms wrapping around you plush middle. Fending off the worry and holding yourself together even for a few moments. “How long?”

Taking a step towards you, “Three days max. Pope says it’s just a quick recon and intel job. You won’t even miss me.” Corny joke tasting bitter on his tongue that licks across dry lips. Unsure if you’d accept him right now but wanting to hold you so badly. “It’ll be quick and easy sweetheart, then I’ll be back with my girls.”

“Three days?” Seeing him nod you swallow harshly staying still for a moment longer. Till you couldn’t stop yourself from running into his arms, wrapping them so tightly around his body the air is knocked from his lungs. Vise grips of flesh and bone holding on securely, wishing the trip would already be over. “You come back to me you hear Fransisco Morales or so help me I’ll search all over this God forsaken planet till I find you myself.” Words muttered and clogged with tears streaming down cold cheeks. “You have a daughter to raise…”

“And a woman to love,” peeling himself back from your embrace. His own arms resting on your thick waist, large hands splayed out over your back taking in your warmth and love. “I promise mi amor I’ll be back in no time.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask him to stay. Plead your case, demand he make good on those promises spoken with the last deployment. Yet, you know this is different and that’s what scares you the most truly. You’d loose so much with this one trip. They won’t have backing by the government in case… pushing those thoughts away you press yourself deeper into Frankie’s body. Stealing his calm, trying to soak it into your veins and sooth your nerves. Knowing the only way to truly do that is by having him stay and you’d never be selfish to ask.

“You know there’s no sunshine when you’re gone,” pressing your lips to the little patch of missing hair in his scruffy beard. “Come back to me Frankie I can’t do this without you.”

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

It's not warm when she's away

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And she's always gone too long

Anytime she's goes away

A week and two days he’s been gone. Nerves shot to hell you asked Will’s girlfriend Abby to watch Luciana for a couple of hours. Knowing the other woman needed a distraction from the worry just as much. You scooping up the keys, placing a quick kiss to your daughter’s forehead, a nod to Abby and you’re out the door. Heading to that little spot you and Frankie like to camp. Drawing a smidgeon of peace from the place that’s much loved between you.

Trying to keep those pesky, traitorous thoughts from invading your mind. Imagines long forgotten with the Delta force days behind you, resurface every night Frankie’s gone. Picturing the worst every time your eyes close. Fists clinching at your sides long sorrow filled scream winds itself from deep within your chest. Thankful no living humans are around to hear the agony scare any woodland creatures far away. Screaming till your throat is raw and parched. Dropping to your knees not caring about the dirt and buries that’ll show up later. In the back of your mind the little voice chastising you for having so little faith in Frankie.

It couldn’t be helped thought, you missed your sunshine. Wanted his presence more than your next breath. To see that ratting Standard Heating oil cap cover his curls, left dimple making an appearance when he smiles at you. Wrapping your arms around his body drinking in the scent of piney woods, touched with motor oil and a spice that’s all Frankie. Afraid of what state he’ll be in that is if he returns. Face pressed into shaky hands hiding from the world as tears coat the palms in salty moisture while rocking your body. Trying to push those thoughts out of your mind to form happier, sun filled ones. Not realizing the rain started to fall from heavy laden clouds, promising a soaker of a storm. Till ramblings of thunder make you gasp and look up. Fitting stormy grey skies meet your sorrowful eyes. Raindrops hitting your upturned face, dropping into your eyes making them blink closed. Heart aching for the man you love and wishing for Aladdin’s magic lamp to grant you just one precious wish that’s all you needed.

Shivering from your soaked clothes, gusty winds howling through the pines returning your grief. Slowly you manage to drag yourself up and back to Frankie’s truck. Sitting watching the rain slash against the aged windshield. Creating different rivers and puddles of water, sunlight catching a perfect drop when the clouds part and shine into the cab and over your face. Warming the cool skin as a sob leaves your throat praying this burst of light is a good omen.

Wonder this time where she's gone

Wonder if she's gone to stay

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away

You stare at the cell phone laying on the seat beside you. Hoping it’ll ring with a number you don’t recognize. Pleading for some kind of answer anything to stop the worry. When no answer me dance lights the piece of tech you slam an open palm against the steer wheel unable to keep the tears from sliding down your face. Unaware of how long you’ve sat there eyes closed rain pouring down around you.

Bill Withers smooth tenor making you jump and clutch at your chest. Eyes flying open to stare out into the utter darkness surrounding you not recognizing the ringtone for half a second. Fear and dread incasing your wildly thumping heart as you reach out for the cell phone. Not recognizing the number, you shakily press and slide your finger. Putting the phone to your ear breath lodged in your throat. Dry and deep from screaming, “Frankie?”

Shattering at the sound of your sweet scratching voice, Frankie sags against the phone booth. Warm glass meeting sweat soaked button up covered back trying to hold in the sob. “It’s me mi corazón,” finally answering short whimper on the end of the endearment. Making him bite the inside of his cheek to stop any other sounds from escaping. Dragging in the humid night air to fill his lungs and steady his heart. The heat is oppressive hanging heavy around the small glass and metal enclosure as his large hand grips the weathered plastic receiver.

“What happened mi sol?” Fear gripping tightly around your heart at hearing the sorrow in his voice. Aching to hold him and chase away the darkness you know will follow.

Pressing a hand to the glass cursing the fact this call wouldn’t be long enough to explain himself. “When I get home I’ll tell you everything sweetheart. I’m on an old pay hone right now so there’s not much time. I just…” swallowing harshly, eyes closing over those sadden brown eyes. “I needed to hear your voice.”

“I’m here baby,” wiping at the tears of relief and sitting up straighter in the bench truck seat. It didn’t matter what happened just knowing he’s alive and coming home to you it all that’s important. They could sort out the rest in time. “When are you coming home Frankie? Luciana misses her daddy.”

Watery chuckle leaves his lips, head resting on the dirty glass behind him, “I’ve missed her to hermosa,” taking another breath to steady himself. “I love you so fucking much.”

Heart clinching tightly at his words the desperation in the tone destroying you. Responding without thought, “I love you to Frankie,” gulping in a breath whimpers bitten off to keep from him knowing how torn up you are. Clap of thunder followed the streaks of lighting illuminating the night sky making you jump and gasp.

“Where are you sweetheart?” Having heard the thunder a little too loudly for you to be at home.

For the first time in your relationship you think of lying to him so he didn’t worry. But you remember the promise made and wouldn’t break it. “Our place,” comes the short answer hearing silence on the other end and you think he’s run out of time.

Finally finding his voice pushing through the pain in his heart. “I’m sorry mi corazón we… I never should’ve…”

“Shh Frankie it’s okay I came here to be closer to you. Wishing for you to call and you did,” soft chuckle leaving your mouth accompanying a small sob. “My sunshine broke through to let me know you were okay and coming home before you called.”

Pulling his cap off to rest on top the worn metal of the cradle and run a shaky hand through his curls. “I think you have that backwards, you’re my sunshine sweetheart and I can’t wait till I see you shine for me.” Electronic voice reminding him of the seconds he has left, precious and too few for his liking. “I’ve got to go mi corazón. I’ll be home soon I promise, I love you.”

“I love…” words cut off making Frankie curse and slam the receiver back into the cradle wanting to kick the old piece of junk. But knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere but a busted foot most likely. He settles for slapping a palm against the glass before snatching up his cap and leaving the claustrophobic inducing box without a backwards glance. Setting his sights on the airport a short power walk away, towards home and into the arms of his girls.

#Writer Wednesday #Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Morales x F!You

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

Text

15x18 coda: it’s in the being

Blood splatters from a severed neck, the body twitching before it collapses to the floor. It sprays across Dean’s face, dotting red droplets over his cheeks and in his hair. Dean keeps his mouth shut so he doesn’t get the taste of copper stuck in it; he already can’t get Cas’s face out of his mind.

There’s a wounded sounding whine coming from somewhere as he dodges the vamps attacks that he realizes is coming from him. He whirls and slices his machete through another vamp’s neck, catching and jerking his arm as it cuts through the spinal cord

That’s fine, sharpening the blade will give him something to do after he’s killed them all. Dean knows this is the last place he should be, that with the world ending, it doesn’t really matter if there’s one less nest of vamps in the world, but if he stops moving, then he’ll… have to think.

“I wondered what my true happiness could even look like, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.”

Fuck, they wasted so much time.

Dean yanks at the vamp’s hair coming towards him, stopping her just short of his neck. He clocks her in the jaw before throwing her backwards and off of him, turning to another who’s advancing and snarling at him.

“But I think...I think I know now. Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in the being, in the just saying it.”

“What are you talking about, man?” Dean had asked, because he couldn’t dare to let himself believe that after so long this was how it was going to happen.

Call him a romantic, but Dean had imagined them somewhere on Baby’s hood, watching the stars, after Chuck was nothing but a distant thought. He’d turn to Cas and say it, ever so casually, and Cas would say it back without hesitation, like it had never been a question.

And maybe, after all this time, it hadn’t been.

A vamp jumps on top of him, knocking him down to the cold concrete, and he almost just lets it happen. What’s the point? Chuck is destroying the world, and Cas is gone.

Dean thinks about Sam, about his cell phone weighing his pocket down with all its missed calls and kicks his knees up, dislodging the vamp and scrambling to his feet.

“You are the most caring man on earth, the most selfless, the most loving human being I will ever know.”

Obviously he wasn’t, or he wouldn’t have let the empty just take Cas while he stood there and watched helplessly. At the very least, he could have fucking said it back. And now Cas is never going to know.

Dean slices viciously at another vamp, and fuck, just how many were in this nest? It’s not like he did any reconnaissance, he had just driven, and driven, until he had heard a scream coming out of a shady ass warehouse. Even out of his mind with grief, it just wasn’t in his nature to ignore a call for help.

“You know, ever since we met, and ever since I pulled you out of hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you, I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack, I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.”

Dean wishes he could have changed, wishes he could have been less of a piece of shit and turned into someone who could actually deserve Cas. He’s such a fucking asshole, and Cas had still been there, fucking crying as he told Dean all the things Dean had thought he’d never hear.

“I love you,” he’d said, and then he’d smiled like Dean was worth all the pain, all the bullshit, the years of repression and denial.

Dean nicks the last vamp with the edge of his machete. The vamp hisses at him and backs up, circling him warily. Dean clenches his jaw. If his muscles get anymore tense, he might just shatter into a million piece, and honestly, that’d be okay.

“Don’t do this, Cas,” Dean begged, as the blackness of the empty started to seep through the wall.

Dean turned to look at it, anything so that he wouldn’t have to look Cas in the eyes. He couldn’t say it, he refused for this to be the way the truth came out

“Cas,” Dean had said, the rest of the words stuck in his throat.

Cas put a hand on his shoulder. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean cries out as there’s a sudden jab to his side, and warmth starts spreading over the skin. He lashes out with his machete, and the vamp’s head goes rolling. Dean looks down and sees red seeping through his jacket.

Cas is gone, and Dean is alone.

Dean takes a deep breath and presses his hand to his side. Blood drips through his fingers as he makes his way out to Baby, his machete hanging loosely to his side in its scabbard. He collapses into the driver’s seat, uncaring of how he’s staining the leather. It’ll come out, or it won’t. Dean’s not sure that he’ll be around to care. He doesn’t see how he’s going to muster all of the will he’s going to need to fight Chuck right now.

He’s living in a deflated balloon, gasping for oxygen, but there’s none to be found without Cas. Dean’s turns over the motor with shaky fingers. He slowly shifts gears, easing Baby out onto the road as his mind whirls. His phone rings again. He gasps for breath before he answers. “‘Lo?”

“Dean? Dean! Holy shit, Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean doesn’t know. “Sam, it’s… it’s Cas,” he chokes out.

Dean knows he should be stronger right now, that he needs to be there for Sam, because, hell, he just lost Eileen, but Dean can’t right now. He can’t be the brother that he’s supposed to be. He’s not strong enough for everyone to lean on while he crumbles. Fuck, what is he going to tell the kid? Jack’s going to be just as heartbroken as him, albeit in a different way.

Dean pounds his fist against the steering wheel as silence crackles over the line.

Finally, “Dean, I’m so sorry. What happened? Was it Chuck?”

Dean starts to answer, but his voice gets strangled as it tries to come out. He shakes his head, knowing Sam can’t see him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sam says softly. “Pull over, all right? I’ll come to you.”

Dean steers Baby to the shoulder of the road and feels a pang in his side. As he looks down to examine it more closely, he sees blood on his shoulder. Dean looks in the mirror to get a closer look, and it’s a handprint. Dean’s going to be sick.

“I’ve got you,” Cas had said, and he did. He really did.

Dean buries his face in his hands and cries.

tag list assemble! let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@that-one-fandom-chick @youcancallmeanet @no-frigging-idea @nineteensevetyfour @1stborneve @good-things-do-happen-dean @i-know-like-four-things @darcydelaney @tearsofgrace @thefourthheadofcerberus @urbankat82 @destiel-is--real @realrookie1012 @nickelkit

#supernatural #spn spoilers #destiel #coda #15x18 coda #despair #despair coda #contemplative writing #dean winchester #castiel

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

Text

The world keeps spinning (it really shouldn't)

Vance did it. He defeated Josephine, saved his grandpa and Elliot, and saved the town. Everything's fixed.

No. Everything is awful. He failed, and now his friend- now Tom is gone.

And he'd rather fight Josephine all over again, because it'd be easier than what he has to do now- tell Andy about it.

Fandom: It Lives (Visual Novels)

Relationships: Andy Kang/Tom Sato, Danni Asturias/Imogen Wescott, (dannimogen is background and very brief but i couldn't resist), Andy Kang & Ava Cunningham & Lucas Thomas & Lily Ortiz

Additional Tags: tom dies and everything is awful, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Friendship, for basic context im going with the version of ILITW that i got, which is that everyone survived and noah took jane's place, and then for ILB i did the version where tom dies obviously, (which is not the version i got), (everyone survived), (i feel the need to say this for my own ego), but anyway i was like what if tho. andy would be devastated, and then... this happened?, only difference from canon is that ILITW MC told everyone about noah a lot before, also like. imma be real with yall, im physically uncapable of giving my MCs serious names, so ILB MC was named That Bitch and i didnt want to give him a real name, cuz it felt like betrayal, so im just calling him vance for this one, is it his nickname? is he called vance vance? dont worry about it, Anyway that's it, Pining, you know. before the death part. it's mentioned, also we're ignoring the whole richard tries to murder MC thing, cuz i dont have time for that, so pretend ILB ended on chapter 17, Hopeful Ending, considering the theme i mean

Read it on Ao3

The city of Westchester looks exactly the same, but somehow feels a lot less wholesome, now. Vance walks in it and feels like a corpse among the living, like a ghost screaming to everyone that something's wrong. And being ignored.

It shouldn't look the same, without Tom.

But no one knows, yet.

He swallows, running a hand behind the nape of his neck. That's why he's here, anyway - they should know, they deserve to know, and he doesn't want to have the funeral without Tom's friends there.

Which is why he's going to tell Andy. Himself, in person. Because he might not know him very well, but he wants to do the right thing, and that's the least Andy deserves. He knows there's no one Tom loved like he did Andy, and from what he's seen of them together, the feeling was mutual.

He has to do this. But he feels sick, just thinking about that bond, and how it was ruined.

How could he let this happen to them?

He was so cocky, so stupid, so reckless... He thought everything would turn out okay. Assumed it would, even, because it kept getting him through it, to think that everything would turn out fine.

God. What a joke.

He walks into the little diner Andy had recommended. I'm sure you've heard of that place, Tom loves it, he had texted. We always went there to celebrate our wins back in high school. His stomach had churned, but he didn't say anything, because he wasn't going to tell Andy via text. He has to do this right. It's the least he owes him.

So he pretended that everything was fine, and agreed to meet him there. Woke up, and dragged himself to the place, trying to muster up the courage to face the world that seemed to not even care about his mistakes.

When he gets to the diner's door, he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself for what he's about to do. Face his own mistakes. Face the pain he caused when he failed them both.

He walks in, and to his relief, and despair, Andy is already there. He smiles brightly when he sees Vance, and Vance wants to disappear.

"Vance! Nice to see you, dude. I heard about what went down in Pine Springs, glad you're okay," he says, not giving time for Vance to answer before continuing, this weird sense of calm and sympathy about him. "So, I assume you still need help with that ghost? From what I've seen in the news, it seemed like you handled it pretty well, but it's not like they are giving us supernatural updates or anything, so I figured there were still some loose ends to tie. Are the other guys coming? Where's Tom?" he looks over behind Vance, and Vance wants to die at the question. God, how is he going to tell him? He didn't really think about that, beyond the part where he has to. "I kind of thought you'd come together again. Bad move to come separated, Tom is always late to everything, I swear if it weren't for me he'd have been kicked out of the team for missing practice too many times. And I'm not the most punctual guy in the world, mind you, but I still had to drag his ass there so he'd be on time- is everything okay?"

Vance is a little shocked by the question. It's not, but what is he supposed to answer? "Andy," he says, a little careful, "things… went a little wrong, back there."

"Oh, shoot," he says, "I'm sorry, man, I kinda assumed, when I heard about how the flooding and the animal attacks were in full swing and then just stopped suddenly, that that was when you got rid of the ghost, you know? And seeing you all in one piece… I thought it was over already. Do you need help? I can round up the guys, and we can go-"

"No, Andy," Vance says, "the ghost is gone."

Andy looks at him, confused. "Then what's the problem?"

"Tom," he says, then winces when he sees all the color drain from Andy's face.

Andy waits for barely a second, then breaks into anxious questioning. "Tom? Why? What do you mean? Is he hurt? How bad is it? Did he have to go to the hospital? Where is he?"

Vance wants to cry. God. God. He can't do this. "Andy..."

Andy just looks at him, eyes wild, terrified, and it hasn't even hit him yet. "Vance. Vance. Please. What happened? Does Tom need me? Because if so, we need to go-"

"Tom's gone," he says, and it leaves him in a rush, a whisper, taking with it the last of his energy. He's empty, and somehow, it's still awful. "He's… he's dead, Andy."

Andy looks at him, eyes wide, unfocused, lost. "This isn't funny," he says. "If Tom put you up to this, knock it off right now. Tell him not to ever joke about-"

"Andy," Vance says, then swallows. "Tom wouldn't joke about that. You know that."

"No, he wouldn't, but..." His eyes begin to water, panic settling in, gaze darting across the room as if searching for him, "But… No. No. No, knock it off."

Vance starts crying before Andy does. "I'm sorry, Andy."

--------

Andy is in shock. He freezes in place, mouth hanging open, everything about him completely still except for his eyes, still so damn wide, still searching the place, searching Vance, begging for something, anything. Vance sits him back down on the table, gently, and Andy lets himself be handled back, eyes still not settling on him.

"I'm sorry," Vance says. "I… I promised you that I would take care of him. I tried, but… I'm so sorry."

"How?" he asks, "how could this happen? This isn't… After Redfield, when everyone survived, I just… I didn't think any of us could lose to another monster, I..." He shakes his head, vigorously, desperately. "This was supposed to be over. We were done, we were free, it was supposed to be over, we were all supposed to be safe, it shouldn't..."

"I'm sorry. It all happened so fast, I… If I had been faster, maybe..."

"Well, it's a bit late for that now," Andy snaps, and Vance bites his lip, not recoiling, because he deserves it. Then Andy stops, as if realizing what he had said, and for a second, his eyes seem clear again. He shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry. I… If there's anything I've learnt from everything that happened, it's that we can't point fingers when things get hard." He finally looks up at Vance, shaking, eerily still, nothing like the guy he was just seconds ago. He's wrecked, Vance thinks, and he wants to tear at himself in guilt. "What happened? Did he- did he drown, or… Did the ghost..."

"We were fighting monsters," Vance explains. "There were just… So many of them, and it all happened so fast, I..." he looks away, not daring to look back at the memory, not daring to remember the awful scene. As if he has to. Everytime he closes his eyes, it's back, punishing him. "We got his body," he explains. "Pine Springs is taking the victims to mass graves, but we wanted to give him a proper burial. I thought… You'd want to come."

Andy seems surprised, like that hadn't crossed his mind. "You haven't buried him yet?"

Vance bites his lip. "No. We're doing it tonight. We didn't have the time before, and… Well, I thought you'd want to be there. And I think he'd have wanted his body to be in Westchester, so..." He trails off.

Andy looks at him, hesitant. He bites his lip, looks away, then back at him. "Can I see the body?"

Vance does recoil, this time. He wasn't expecting this question. "I… You won't want to."

"What do you mean, I won't want to? I need to say goodbye to him, I-"

"Andy," he says, as gently as possible, because he deserves Andy's anger, all of it, but he won't let him do that to himself. "You won't want to remember him like that. His body…" He looks at Andy's eyes. He's still furious, livid, shaking, and he's lost, and Vance realizes that he doesn't get it, doesn't understand what Vance is saying, and this might be even worse than having to tell him Tom is dead. "It's torn to pieces, Andy. There's not much for you to see."

Andy freezes, for the second time that day. "Was he- oh, god," he looks at his own shaky hands, somehow even more in shock than before. "Was it… At least, was it quick?"

Vance starts crying again. He opens his mouth to answer. He can't. He chokes on the words, on his guilt, on his uselessness. "I'm so sorry, Andy."

------

Andy throws up. Once, twice. He doesn't insist on looking at the body. Obviously, he can't. Just imagining it- it's too much.

He tries to comfort Vance, because he- he's trying to do better, with his anger, with his impulsiveness, but all he can think about is how much he wants to destroy something, and honestly, the whole conversation is a blur. He punches the wall instead, once he gets home. And throws up. Again and again. Sends his friends a message, letting them know about the funeral. Cries. Punches the wall again. And again, and again, hoping that his hands will start to bleed, that he'll tear himself apart. His mom asks what's got him so angry, and he yells, "Tom is dead!". Her face twists in shock, and he can't look at it. He runs away.

Being back outside is almost worse. Everything- it should be in shambles. The whole town, the whole world should be on fire, fizzling, filled with screams and despair, like Andy is. He's never lived in a world without Tom before, never been away from him his whole life, and it shouldn't look like it's just the same. Everything should be gone, destroyed. And it is, but it doesn't look that way, and Andy wants to tear it all apart until it makes sense, at least.

He hates Westchester now. He hates it. God damn the stupid woods, and the stupid cult, and the fucking Power! God damn Andy for telling Tom about it, for letting him become this sort of- monster hunter, for believing that just because they overcame a ghost once, it would keep happening if they pushed their luck.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Tom can't be dead. It's impossible.

How can Andy still be standing, if Tom isn't here?

---------

He wanders like that the rest of the day, not noticing the hunger that builds up after going a whole day without eating, not noticing the passersby looking at him worriedly, not noticing the thousands of missed calls from his mom, not noticing anything but this awful despair. He knows the feeling of wanting to claw his chest off intimately well, but it's never been like that before. He wants to carve himself hollow. He wants to scream. He wants to run. And he runs from the all-encompassing nothingness, even though he has nowhere to go.

He goes from angry to empty, and then back to angry, all day long, and the day passes in a blur.

--------

Andy meets up with Vance and two girls from their crew. Their group was pretty small, he realizes. A lot smaller than Andy's was, all those years ago. Three years ago. Forever ago. Another lifetime. Just yesterday.

The cemetery is empty, but there's a grave with a black casket they're standing next to. "I thought all the cemetery crew was helping Pine Springs," he says, like he cares. Honestly, he hadn't thought about the logistics of this at all.

"They are," Vance confirms, serious. "You, uh… You know about Noah, right…?"

Andy nods. "Yeah, we, uh, reintroduced ourselves to him a little after you guys left." It was weird, to say the least. All that anger, all that betrayal, bubbling up again right when they had all started to move on from what had happened, to think that it was over… The urge to scream at him, demand answers… And then seeing all the hurt, and the confusion, and remembering that they had loved Noah, once, most of their lives, and that at the end of the day, the only one who had suffered from his actions was himself.

It wasn't easy to forgive. Not to Andy. Or Stacy. Or Ava. But they had been working on it. Maybe they couldn't forgive, much less forget, but at the same time, they couldn't get rid of that bond, either.

Still… "What does this have to do with… With Tom?" If Noah had anything to do with his death, Andy would kill him all over again. He doesn't care about his freaky powers, he'll die if he has to, but Noah will pay.

"He, uh, helped. Dig the grave and, uh, get a casket. That's how we got everything ready."

Oh. "I… I see," he says. "Is he here?"

"No. I told him you guys were coming, and he said it was better if he left."

"Oh," Andy answers. "I guess that's… Yeah. Still..." he raises his voice a little bit, in the direction of the woods. "Thank you, Noah."

He doesn't see or hear anything, not really, but still, somehow, he can tell that Noah is pleased. He can picture Noah's smile and that fragile little "friendsss..."

He sighs, suddenly exhausted.

Vance seems to notice, god bless his soul. "Are the others coming?", he asks, gently.

"Lily, Lucas, and Ava are," Andy replies. "The rest were out of town, and they… They won't make it."

"I'm sorry."

Andy kicks a pebble. "It's fine," he says. It's the kind of lie that's so absurd that it becomes true. Nothing is fine. It'll never be fine. So it doesn't matter at all, and it ends up being fine.

Vance seems to realize what's going through his head, somehow, because he looks unsure of what to say. Finally, he settles on, "uh, Andy. These are Danni, and Imogen," he says, gesturing to each of them, and Andy musters up enough energy to look at their faces while he does that, at least. Then, his eyes widen for a second, finally taking in what they look like.

"Wait, you're Imogen Wescott?" he says, a little dumbfounded. "When I heard that name, I kinda expected you to be, you know..."

"White and insufferable?" Imogen asks, a little smile directed at him, so gentle he can barely handle it. "Yeah. That's why I'd rather go by Genny, usually."

Danni frowns at her, slightly troubled. "You never told me that."

Imogen's smile turns a little brighter. "Oh, no, not for you, Danni. For you, I'd rather go by 'babe'".

Danni also smiles at her, and they squeeze each other's hands, and the edges of grief seem to turn just a little softer for them both. Andy can tell that things get just a little easier for them, just a little less grim, because they have each other. And he needs to look away, wants to run, because he and Tom… They could've… In a way, they were...

He feels like he's ready to run again. God, he fucked up so bad. What was he supposed to do now, how could he get better when the one thing in the world that always made him feel better was Tom? He lost him, he's gone, it's over, and somehow it hadn't hit quite the way it did at that moment, looking at that connection, that love that showed through grief. He averts his eyes, feeling wild and cornered, and turns back right in time to almost run into Lily - who looks devastated, and reaches out to touch his arm. Which feels crazy, because Andy is raw, and his whole body is bleeding, and rotting away, and who would touch him-

"I'm so sorry, Andy." She says, and Andy finds himself hugging her tight, and he feels like she should wither, die at his touch, suffocate, but she just hugs him back and pats him and Andy cries on her shoulder, and he's never cried in front of her before, much less like this. But he can't stop, he can't do anything, he's so heavy and dizzy and lost-

And Lily is stronger than they give her credit for, because she holds him, this endless weight that is him, even when he shakes and stains her sweater with tears, like it's nothing. She feels so solid, right then, the only solid thing in the world. She's got him, Andy knows, and it's like finally he ran into something he can take shelter in. He takes a deep breath, then another, and holds on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing he says, maybe the only thing he knows how to say right now. Maybe this is how Jane felt, in the end - this endless spectre of regret, bigger than everything, than everyone, encompassing her and drowning her until it ate her whole and left her empty, with only the Power and its evil inside her.

He's so tired, but he's not empty, not yet.

He almost wants to be.

"Don't apologize," Lily says, so sad and sympathetic, and it takes Andy a moment to realize what she's even talking about. "I'm really sorry, I..."

It's only then that Andy's eyes focus enough to see Ava and Lucas standing a little after her, their faces twisted with sadness and bodies frozen in place. At times like this, it really is obvious that Lily is the bravest out of all of them, by far. Andy doesn't think he's ever cried in front of any of them, and Lucas and Ava look- completely lost.

Lucas is the first to talk, out of them both. His voice is very soft. "Andy, if there's anything you need..."

Ava interrupts, words leaving her way too fast. "We'll be staying with you tonight." She blinks for a second, frowning at Lucas. "Sorry, I, uh, hadn't realized you were talking." She looks like she just came out of a daze. She probably had been running that in her head for a while. Lucas puts his hand on her shoulder, and Ava runs a head on her neck, embarrassed.

"It's okay," Andy answers, even though her apology wasn't directed at him. "You don't have to, you know, watch over me or..." He trails off.

"We're not leaving you alone," Ava says, resolute. "You know the others couldn't come, but we all agreed that we should be… You know..."

Andy chokes on something he can't quite feel. He looks down at his feet, and he hasn't felt this small in years. "I… Okay."

Ava reaches out to him, hesitant, and gives him a little pat on the shoulder. Lucas starts rubbing his back soothingly, and, very awkwardly, they gravitate into a group hug. Andy can see the nervousness in Ava's eyes, the worry that she's doing this wrong somehow, like a hug is the most complex thing in the world, and he tries to muster up a little smile of encouragement to her, but he's forgotten how to do that. He doesn't know how to do anything, anymore.

Slowly, they separate, and all three of them still keep some sort of touch with Andy - even Ava, with her hand close to his shoulder - like they're trying to anchor him, but he drifts away anyway, lost in whatever it is that's left of himself.

Vance looks down at him for a moment, as if waiting for a signal, but Andy doesn't know for what, so he waits for Vance to figure it out. Finally, he says, "should we start?"

Andy frowns. "Wasn't there some other guy with you? Pork something?"

Vance, Imogen, and Danni all look at each other, uncertain, surprised, for a moment. It's Imogen who speaks up. "He… He left us."

Ava swallows. "Did he also..."

"No," she says, shaking her head, sadly. "He, uh, deserted the group."

"He what?" Someone asks, shocked, almost outraged, and when Andy sees the looks in everyone's faces, he realizes that it was him.

"He couldn't take it," Vance says, face twisted with sadness. "All the fighting, the monsters… He left."

Andy is shaking. Falling apart. About to explode. "When?"

Vance doesn't look at him. "Right before the final battle."

"He abandoned you when you were going up against the evil ghost?"

"He..." Vance begins, then finds that he has nothing else to say. "Yeah."

"How…" Andy begins, lost for words, and then it happens. He explodes. "How dare he!" He screams. "Tom was counting on him, he trusted him, he needed him, and he just left? He should have been there! He should have been there, he should," Andy looks at his own hands, in shock, watching them tremble and go out of focus, like there are tears blocking his vision, and he feels sick, on the verge of death, and he realizes that he's not talking about that guy at all. "He should have been there!" He slips from his own control, falling to his knees, covering his face, feeling shame, shame, shame, hatred, disgust. "He should… I should… Oh God, I just let him go alone..."

"Andy..." Someone says. Maybe Lucas. Maybe Lily. Maybe the Imogen girl. It sounds so sympathetic. He wants to claw at his own skin and hide.

"I should have been there, I shouldn't… I had experience, what was I thinking..."

"Tom didn't want you to go," someone else says, gently. "I was there when you talked, remember? You didn't abandon him. You said you were going to come, and he told you not to."

"Tom.. Tom is not my damn boss," Andy answers, still covering his face, feeling the tears stop spilling and start to drown him from the inside, and god damn T, the least Tom deserves is for him to be able to cry properly- "I-I should have… gone," he chokes, shaking.

The next one who speaks is Ava. "He wouldn't have wanted you to be at risk, Andy."

"I don't care. I don't care. I'm selfish like that, I'd rather it was me. I could have helped him, I could have saved him, even if I had to- to take his place..."

"Andy..." is all Ava says, sounding shaken, devastated.

"Fuck!" He screams, punching the ground beneath him as if trying to punish the earth for taking Tom. "He would have never left me like that, I could always count on Tom, I could always..." he feels his chest constrict, or maybe burst, with all the tears and horror inside of him, like he's cracking from the inside. "Always..." he can't form the words, can't find the air, and he falls in on himself, more, more, more, closing in, suffocating, "always..." he can't breathe. He can't breathe. He tries to draw it in, to keep himself steady, but every time he tries to bring it in, the air escapes from him again, further, abandoning him, and he wheezes, again, again, closing in further, suffocating, oh God, he's going to die…

"It's a panic attack!" Someone screams, then kneels beside him, putting their hands on his shoulders. "Andy. Andy. Focus on me. You need to breathe. Deep lungfuls. Come on. I'll count to four. Keep breathing in. 1… 2..."

"Can't," he wheezes. It's too strong, like there's something… Something constricting his chest, inside and outside, and then he realizes… "Binder." He sits down straighter, no longer closing in on himself, and that awful vulnerability gets even worse, but it's easier to breathe. He follows the person's counts… 1, 2, 3, 4… Then up to five, then to six, then to seven, then eight… Until finally he doesn't need help, and he opens his eyes and contemplates the absolute mess that he is, and Imogen's kind, relieved face just inches from him.

"Good, Andy, you did well… I have these sometimes, too, I know how scary they are, you were so brave..." Imogen keeps on saying, painfully understanding, and he nods, a bit exhausted to explain. He didn't take his binder off all day, didn't remember… And if he wears it for too long, he's more prone to hyperventilating, especially if he's stressed. Tom knew that. Tom would have known what was going on. Tom… Fuck.

"I'm sorry," he says, to everyone, and no one in particular.

"Don't apologize. We're all glad you're okay," Lily says, and he realizes that, somehow, she had also kneeled beside him and brought him into another hug. He hides his face on her shoulder, shaking his head, trying to breathe. Breathing. She pets his head, a little bit, and he can feel some more touch, too - little pats on his shoulder and back, all gentle, not crowding him, like he's some sort of wild animal they're trying to calm down.

God, what a mess.

He holds Lily tighter, wanting to hide from the world. She lets him, because it's the kind of person Lily is. He feels himself drift away, for a while, but Lily's still petting his head and he can't lose himself completely. He shakes his head, wanting to fight it, almost wanting to get away from Lily, but he can't escape the gentleness in her embrace. He still can't cry, but he feels his eyes water and burn anyway, and he shakes his head against Lily's shoulder. He just wants this to be over. Please, he's so exhausted.

His breaths even, despite himself, but Andy keeps shaking, and he keeps shaking his head slightly against Lily. He wants this to end, it has- has to be a nightmare…

"Shh, Andy, don't hold it in, it's okay," Lily says, slowly, sadly, and Andy shakes his head more vigorously. No. He can't be weak right now, it's only going to make it last longer. He needs to end it, can't be done with this until Tom has gotten his goodbyes.

It's the least Andy owes him, now that there's nothing else he can do.

So, he speaks up.

"We should go on," he says, suddenly feeling resolute. It's easier to do this if he has something to focus on. He needs to see this through the end, for Tom. If he thinks only about that...

"Are you sure?" Vance asks, hesitant.

Andy nods, forcing his vision to focus. "He needs to rest."

----------

Everyone's speeches go by in a blur. Vance talks about how good Tom's heart was, how he was willing to drop everything to go help a bunch of strangers, how everyone could always count on him. He cries, and he says he's sorry, and the girls put their arms around him, tell him that he did his best. Imogen brings up how kind he was, and Danni talks about his strength. They really loved him, Andy notices, and feels his heart settle just a little bit. He was loved till the end. Of course he was.

Lucas talks about how supportive Tom was, how he was always uplifting everyone around him and would let Lucas babble on about conservation for hours. Lily brings up how much he believed in her and supported her when she was making her videogames. Ava says that Tom was the only one who ever saw her looking up Westchester's history and cults and just… Sat down with her and helped, understanding that she needed this to feel safe, to feel ready, and sharing that burden of getting ready for a disgrace, just a little bit. Andy never knew that Tom had been joining Ava for research. He could've helped with that, too. He could have done a lot of things, if he had paid more attention.

He's left for last, and a part of him wants to be a coward, to stay silent, but that was never his style.

"When Tom had turned into a zombie," he begins, "Redfi- Jane made him hurt me. And I wasn't worried for myself. I was worried for him. I wanted him back, no matter what it took, no matter what happened to me," he begins, not looking at anyone in particular, because he knows most of them already know this story, but he's not going to- he's not going to deny Tom the chance to know how he felt about him, before he rests. It's the least Andy owes him.

So, he takes a deep breath and goes on, pushing himself into saying something that matters.

"Then our friends showed up, and they said that Tom was still there. That I had to reach out to him. So I tried. I talked to him about our childhood. About how much he had been supporting me… How he was my best friend. He was hesitant, but so… Scared. I didn't know what to do. Tom and I always got each other..." He loses himself a little, shaking his head, purging the thoughts that were keeping him from going on, "And then someone said, 'Andy's hurt. H-he needs help'." He loses focus for a second, and that can't happen. He takes a breath, tries to make himself talk. "And just like that… Tom came back.

"He extended his hand to me, and helped me to my feet, and suddenly there was color in his face again, and for a second he wasn't even confused as to what the hell was going on, he just wanted to make sure I was okay. He came back because I needed him. Because he couldn't bear to hurt me. He was always there for me, and I… I don't think I ever needed him more than right now."

He stops a minute, to look at the faces surrounding him. There's a grief in them that looks almost like… Pity.

And Andy isn't even mad about it. He feels pitiful.

"I'm not the best guy with words," he admits, "so I don't know how to express how much this meant to me, or how much Tom meant to me. No one understood me like him. Tom is… Was… No, is a part of me. Maybe the best part of me, because I loved him more than anything else about myself. I'll miss him for the rest of my life." He looks down at Tom's grave, carved out of anything else to say. "I love you, buddy."

It's not the greatest speech that's ever been given, but it's what he can say, and at least he's done it. He'll be able to do better, later. He'll come back to talk to him again. As many times as he can, for as long as he can. He swears on that.

Andy steps back from the grave, and doesn't look as they slowly fill it, covering the closed casket with dirt. He finally allows himself to let the exhaustion catch up with him, and is overcome by that blissful, blissful emptiness.

---------

He's fully expecting himself to drop asleep as soon as they get to Ava's place. They decided to stay there for the night, because Andy still doesn't want to face his mom, to see that same grief in her, for her to want to talk to him, to tell him that everything would be fine. He can't do that, not today. At least Lucas had enough foresight to warn her of where they are, so she should leave him alone for now. Lucas is very reliable in a crisis, Andy thinks, making a note to himself to thank him properly later.

But he can't sleep. He's too exhausted to even rest. And for some reason, even though he doesn't want to talk, that's exactly what he found himself doing for the past few hours. Vomiting up all sorts of memories and thoughts, ranging from funny moments he had with Tom to all of his regrets, and Andy's always been kind of a stress-talker, but it's never been like this. He feels like he's been skinned alive; there's nothing to hold himself together, to hold anything at all in.

He cries all the tears he didn't think he had left in him anymore, and he curses himself, and the guy who left them in the end, and Noah, and the Power, and the cult, and himself again. He scratches his own skin until Lucas gently takes his hands in his, stopping him from doing more of it. And he talks, through all of that. Talks and talks and talks.

The words make him drift through memories, through states of mind, and he knows he's so damn volatile today, it's like he can't anchor himself to a feeling, but his friends put up with him anyway.

Finally, he starts to settle into this sort of… Slowness, like his mind is clear, or maybe blank, even as he keeps on thinking. And he keeps talking through it, letting all the minor regrets have their turn after he's too damn done to keep dealing with the worst parts.

"I never told him I was in love with him," Andy says, staring at the three empty mattresses in front of him, because it's easier than looking at any of his friends, who are currently sitting right beside him, as he babbles on. "I was going to, you know? After R- Jane. I had almost died, so I figured, you know- yolo, and all that. And then I told myself, 'I'll wait until I'm out of the hospital.' And then I started to think… What if he didn't feel the same way? What if things got weird? What if I end up losing him? And I never told him," he looks at his own feet, "and now I lost him anyway."

They all just look at him. They used up all the "I'm sorry, Andy"s left in them a long time ago, he thinks. There's only so many platitudes you can muster up when you know they're worthless, when you're just repeating yourself.

God bless them for trying, though. They're sticking with him through their own- everyone's inadequacy to deal with what's going on. Andy can't thank them enough for that.

"He knew you loved him," Ava says, serious, and Andy frowns at her, doubtful. "He might not have known you were in love with him, but… He knew how much he meant to you. I'm sure of it."

Andy laughs, humorless, "did you finally get those mind reading powers you wanted?" he says. It falls flat, but they pretend it doesn't, for his sake.

Ava rolls her eyes. "Don't be an ass, Kang," she says. "No. I just… I can tell. Anyone can."

Andy bites his lip, looking away.

She presses on, as gently as she can. "Besides, you also know, don't you? Regardless of anything else… Tom loved you, just as much as you loved him."

"I still love him," Andy says, before he can think about it, and a weird kind of shame creeps up on him - for saying it, for not saying it sooner, for realizing that this… It'll probably never go away, even now that it's completely pointless, that it's just proof of his cowardice.

"That's… Normal," Lily says, fiddling a little with her sweater. "You don't forget someone just like that, just because something happened. I mean, look at me and Britney. It took me years to get over her, and even then, I had to have supernatural forces show me exactly who she was, first."

"She didn't deserve you," Ava says.

"Maybe not. It doesn't matter now," Lily says. "The point is… It's okay to still love him."

Andy hugs his knees. "I don't think anything is okay, right now."

"That's okay, too."

They stay in silence for a moment, and then Lucas speaks up. "I know 'it gets better' stories don't really help at times like these," he says, "so I won't tell you that, but… I know what it's like, to feel like nothing will ever be okay, ever be enough. So… At least you're not alone, in that feeling."

Andy's mouth does something. It's not a smile, but it's what it can do right now. "Yeah. At least it's not like last time," he says. "With Jane. We all fell apart, and… It felt really lonely, even though..." He chokes up. "I had Tom."

Lucas rubs at Andy's shoulder sadly, and Andy shakes his head.

"It's just that he didn't get it, you know? And I couldn't tell him, about what happened," he says, instead of thinking about how much worse this is, no matter how many friends he has by his side right now. "So I… Missed you guys." He finishes, ashamed.

"We get it," Ava says, solemn. "And we're sticking with you, this time around."

"Yeah," Lucas agrees.

"Yeah," Lily adds.

"Okay," Andy answers. "I… Thanks."

They hug him tighter. It's all they have to say.

#it lives #andy kang #tom sato #andy x tom #tom x andy #it lives beneath #ilb #it lives in the woods #ilitw #ilb mc #i feel like ive been editing this fic my entire life #also apparently i write deathfic now. thats uh. something #anne ways. have this

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