#any way the wind blows cannot come out soon enough. i need these idiots to get their shit together and i need it... in september of 2019 tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsunchani · 3 years

Text

heeseung - strangers

࿐ྂ (@enhypenwriters collaboration)

࿐ྂ word count: 5.8k+

࿐ྂ pairing: stranger!heeseung x stranger!reader

࿐ྂ genre: PG-15, strangers to lovers!au and 1990's!au

࿐ྂ warning: a bit sad. heeseung first relationship! lee heeseung fans line up!

࿐ྂ credits:

special thanks to...

1. lovely twinnie @chaoticdeobi! thank you love for being my beta-reader! my twinnie was meant to expand it, i am owning the storyline! + she falls for heeseung.

2. bong-vely sissy @jung-snoopy-woo, thank you for liking the story and encourage me with your lovely words!

࿐ྂ pritty's note: i am sorry, it’s delayed i know T_T!

so this is for you guys! i hope you like it, please comment and reblog! enjoy the story love!

23rd June, 1991.

“Yo, Heeseung, my man!” The mentioned lad grinned, approaching his campus best friend, Jay, and greeting him with a high five. Heeseung smiled widely, delighted to meet his friend even if it was probably the last time he’d see him in person, in a very long time.

After getting transferred to one of Australia’s universities, it was only appropriate for Jay to host a farewell party, at least.

“Yo Jay, my handsome man!”

“Yeah, I am the handsome man here!” He replied, opening his arms and acknowledging the compliment, although there wasn’t a hint of conceit in his voice.

“Well, I mean, girls are all over you.” Heeseung jokes, right hand inside his pocket as he slung the other on Jay's shoulder.

“Come on now, we both know who’s fooling around, heeseung. Girls are all over you.” Bringing his wine glass to his mouth, he sipped on the cola and savored the flavor lingering on his lips and tongue.

Heeseung chuckled, then turning his head to glance at the waitress holding a tray with drinks placed on it. Heeseung didn’t miss the way her eyes were already fixed on his figure. He grabbed the cola smoothly from the tray when she passed by him, without daring to make eye contact with her. He didn’t want another girl outside the campus to be all over him. He had enough people swarming over for his attention, and he definitely did not want to be held accountable for any future heartbreaks he didn’t mean to make.

People. All over him. Everyday.

Heeseung had never dated; he always refused when his friends set him up on blind dates. Many have tried and failed, attempting to figure out how to set him up, but never succeeded. And so they simply gave up.

Jay opened his mouth, only to close it back again when Heeseung pointed his index finger at him, knowing he knew what Jay wanted to say.

“I haven’t said anything!”

“I know what you wanted to say. Just shut it.”

Jay rolled his eyes along with a shake of his head, shrugging and muttering, “If you say so.”

He takes a sip of his drink again.

Heesung changed the topic, and it didn’t take long until the conversation between them drifted well. Soon, and before they knew it, Jay’s girlfriend chirped in, discoursing with them as well.

Soon enough, their conversation went wild; there’s laughing all around, talking about school stuff, the hilarious moments they had, reminiscing the moments they’ve had with their other friends just in an attempt to bring back nostalgia. Then, before Heeseung knew it again, the issue about relationships had resurfaced.

While it was nothing detrimental to him, Heeseung still turned away and tried not to listen to it. Deep inside, he knew where the topic where Jay and his girlfriend were heading to. So instead, he tried to distract himself by looking at the people around him one by one, trying to recognize the familiar faces from the campus.

Of course. Jay was a sociable person so he invited people that he knew, including his brother and his sister’s friends. Being a ‘known guy’ on and off campus sure had its perks.

Just when he wanted to rejoin the conversation of Jay and his lover, he caught sight of you, in your dazzling glory, from across the room. Heeseung, stunned on his spot, observed you for a whole minute, inwardly hoping he did not look like a weird stalker as of the moment. Then, his brain went outright blank after hearing your laugh from a distance, then finally seeing your pearly smile.

He felt disoriented, like he’s petrified and doesn’t know what to do next.

All Heeseung knew was that your friend was laughing, followed by you with the topic that she had brought up. Then, to his surprise, you turned around, accidentally making eye contact with just the man who was watching you. That lasted for a brief moment, for in an instant, you were back to laughing around with your friend, your voice seemingly growing louder by the second you get more amused.

Beautiful, Heeseung thought. Your hand covered the wide smile on your lips, and yet he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off of you.

Didn’t he just tell Jay to shut up about relationships? About potential lovers? But, why did he suddenly feel like he wants to listen to your laugh all day, wants to make you smile for as long as he could, have you in his arms as you rejoice in the euphoria of his love? That isn’t what falling in love feels like, isn’t it? It can’t be.

Heeseung surprised himself when he took a step the moment your friend walked away. He was shy, of course he was, but then you stood alone, hand gently placed on top of your elbow, waiting for somebody to come and entertain you. Then you looked back at Heeseung’s spot again, heart skipping a beat when you made eye contact with him for the second time tonight. And with the way you chewed on your bottom lip shyly before looking away, it was enough for Heeseung to know that you were merely waiting for him to make the first move.

He was about to take a step, then he backed away again. He couldn’t just approach you like that… can he? He probably needed some kind of backup or bridge to get to know you.

But as if the heavens heard his scrambled thoughts, it was thanks to destiny that Jay’s sister just happened to walk by in front of him.

“Hey, Dini.” Heeseung caught her arm. She jerked her head as she munched on her snack.

“Whot?” She asked with muffled words, cheeks resembling that of a chipmunk.

“D-d-do you know that girl?” Dini followed where Heeseung was pointing to, shy eyes barely looking at your figure, who stood stiffly on the same spot, unmoving. Dini chuckled and turned to look at Heeseung.

“So, you could fall in love, Mr. Lee.” Dini eyed the brunette man beside her, smirking as she took notice of the way his eyes clung to your face.

“Oh shut it, Park. Just help me get to know her.” Heeseung hissed, embarrassed with her teasing.

“Oof, nice mouth, Lee.” Dini mocked shock while smirking at the flustered man. Heeseung, who seemed unfazed, only glared at her.

“What?” She blinked.

Seconds later, Dini merely rolled her eyes before she walked ahead of Heeseung, lifting and wiggling her index finger as a signal for him to follow her lead.

“C’mon Lee.”

Heeseung's eyes lit up as he followed the little Park. His heartbeat started to race the closer he got to you. Then, Dini stopped to call your name, to catch your attention. Heeseung almost clumsily bumped into Dini’s back like a lost little child.

He regained composure the moment you turned your head, hair flipping back as you looked at their direction with a smile. Heeseung’s heart, now unpredictable, thudded like crazy against his chest as beads of sweat rolled down his temple and gathered on his palms.

“y/n, this is Heeseung. Jake’s best friend. Heeseung, this is y/n, my friend and Rina’s sister.”

Heeseung instantly extended his hand to you, shyly enough for you to know that he’s quite hesitant as you are. Slowly, you enclosed your hand in his in a handshake.

You had to admit, even you cannot look into his beautiful eyes.

The moment your hand touched his, he felt sparks sparkling inside his stomach and his mind instantly went crazy. His breath became shaky, though he still tried his best to give you a smile.

“Hi, y/n. Glad to meet you.” Your ears and the stars in your eyes perked up when a manly yet cute, soft, voice came out of his lips and called your name. Deciding to lift your head, your gaze then met the galaxy in his eyes. Your heart raced against your chest again, like a teenager with a clumsy little crush, your skin crawling and tingling from head to toe. But then you tried your best to conceal your shyness, and gave him a smile.

“Hi, Heeseung, I’m glad to meet you.” At that moment, Heeseung was already smiling from ear to ear.

Thoughts started to fill his mind, and suddenly, he thought that maybe having one more person fall for him wouldn’t seem to be too bad after all— but rather what he somehow wanted. With both of you standing there, hands still clasping each other’s, you shyly looked away as Dini cleared her throat.

“Excuse me lovebirds. Don’t wanna be a third wheel here.” Dini said with a faux annoyed voice, glancing at Heeseung with a smirk on her face.

“Start your move, Lee.” She whispered just as she patted his shoulder before passing by him completely.

As Heeseung withdrew his hand, you shyly tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. From here, everything would be alright.

After all, all it took was for you to meet Heeseung, a mere stranger a few moments ago, and yet you don’t know why you want to believe in love again. But it’s special, isn’t it?

It must be.

Heeseung had his head buried into his hand, fingers brushing over his features as he sighed. He sat beside the home telephone, the wind blowing harshly from outside the open window as if to boo him.

24th June, 1991.

The whole day, he’d been thinking about stuff, and it wasn’t exactly one you would ever want to hear. Why?

“What’s her name again?”

“I forgot.”

“Lee heeseung, you idiot!”

“Says you!”

And he couldn’t believe it himself. After a whole night of talking, and maybe even flirting, he still forgot your name.

Dating mustn't really be for him.

No. More like, falling in love really isn’t for him.

But then, it might be too early to actually declare anything, right?

As if the lightbulb above Heeseung’s head lit up, he lifted his head, backtracking the events that had happened in the party. Dini left, you both began to talk, hours passed, you were both delirious, he was borderline drunk, so Jay came in to rescue his friend from embarrassing himself, and then you waved goodbye, he started babbling, and so to shut him up… Jay slipped something into his palm.

That’s it.

Heeseung stood up and ran into his room. Taking a small paper in his hand, he ran back to the living room, grabbing the telephone and began punching the numbers written on the paper.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Heeseung placed the paper beside the telephone, still anxiously eyeing the number, praying it’s your home’s phone number and not some prank. It continued ringing, until on the seventh ring, the phone was finally picked up.

“Hello?” —came from the other line. Heeseung’s ears perked up in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. It’s not your voice, it’s a man’s voice. And if this was not your phone number, he swore to himself he’d pummel Jay for it.

“Hello, Mr., This is Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. I’m looking for, um— is this, um—”

“Are you perhaps… looking for y/n?”

When the familiar name left the man’s mouth, Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he found himself inhaling a shaky breath.

“Y-yes, sir. That’s her name.” Heeseung mumbled, blinking blankly while he licked his lips anxiously.

“Alright,” He said, and then there’s a plop from the other line. Heeseung bit his lip and anxiously bounced his legs, hoping he wasn’t too late to finally hit a score.

On the other side of the line, you sat peacefully atop your bed, nibbling on the crown of the pen in your hand— brows drawn into a furrow.

Something about the prose you wrote didn’t seem right.

“y/n, honey!” Called your dad, his voice muffled from the other side of your door.

“Yeah, dad?” You replied without removing your gaze from your little notebook. When he didn’t respond, you looked at the door for a few seconds. Still nothing.

Sighing, you slipped your slippers on, dragging your feet to approach the door.

“Yeah, daddy?” Opening the door and poking your head out from its crack, you turned your head to face your dad’s distinct figure. With the phone in between his shoulder and ear, it was his turn to turn to you, jerking his head towards the phone on the table.

“Heeseung.” He mouthed, and so your eyebrows jerked up reflexively.

“Heeseung?” You repeated softly, blinking as you closed the door behind you and approached your father. Softly, you took it from his hand, sitting on the little couch just beside the table.

Just before you were about to say something, you glanced at your father, who chuckled and generously urged you on, that it’s okay for you to talk to him. Slowly, you placed the phone beside your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice was a little shaky, and the fact that you know very well it was obvious made blood rush to your cheek. Luckily, Heeseung didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, y/n, it’s Heeseung.”

And oh god, do you feel butterflies at the sound of his voice. Shyly, you tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“Hi, Heeseung.” You greeted him right before chewing on your lower lip. Like a teenager in the peak stage of delirious puppy love, your fingers found its way onto the ringed wires of the phone, and you started to twirl it repeatedly around your finger in giddiness. “What’s up?”

“So, uh… I—” He paused, and with the way he repeatedly hissed at himself, you bit on your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. “I just— ugh, fine, I will go straight to the point.”

He gulped, and then there was silence on the other side of the line for a while. You heard his stuttering, the loud shaky breaths that he kept on taking. He sounded like he was in the peak state of panic, and when the silence grew longer, your brows slowly started to furrow.

“Heeseung? Are you there? Are you o—”

“Go on a date with me?”

Pause.

And then, you could only break into a wide grin.

A mix of words began to flow into your mind, and even though it seemed to be coming in out of excitement and shock, it made sense.

You just know that after the phone call, your notebook will be filled with everything you’ve never thought of. And by the end of the night, your prose will become the most phenomenal one you’ve written yet.

Heeseung still couldn’t believe he was standing in front of your front door, because he asked you out on a date.

1st July, 1991.

He asked you out.

On a date.

Normally, he wouldn’t have given himself so much praise because he wasn’t conceited, but even he himself could not believe it. He finally asked somebody out, not the other way around, and he was pretty damn sure he’s got the hots for you.

And to top all that, you said yes.

The car key clanged against his ring and the jittery boy couldn’t help but slightly jolt on his spot. Upon hearing footsteps come closer to the door, he reached up to make sure his shirt was properly buttoned. The front door opened and he quickly tucked his shirt a bit out from his pants, then inwardly praying you were into that kind of style.

“Bye mum, bye dad!” Rung your voice as you opened the door, giving your smiley parents a wave before finally facing the stupefied man on your doorstep.

Do something.

Lee Heeseung, do some freaking thing.

It was what his mind was telling him to do, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Heeseung stood frozen on his spot, adoring your stylish get-up and the equally shy look on your face.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Heeseung’s eyes widened as he spoke, snapping out of his trance at the same time shaking his head at himself. “Y-you look… gorgeous.” He said in a whisper-like voice, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck shyly.

You chuckled, tucking strands of hair behind your ear. “Thank you.”

“S-shall we?” He asked, stepping aside and extending a hand to gesture to his car. Looking ahead, you saw how badly his hand was shaking, and although you felt the urge to laugh, you didn’t want to embarrass him further, even if for you, it was terribly cute.

“We shall.” You nodded, and heeseung cleared his throat with a bashful smile on his lips.

“Excellent.” He mumbled before making way for you to walk ahead. On the outside, he seemed to look like a semi-calm lad on his first date, maybe a little jittery here and there. But on the inside, he was internally cursing at himself on whether he should’ve held his arm out to you or not. For one, he did not want you to feel uncomfortable about how bold he might’ve seemed. But two, it was supposed to be an act of chivalry.

And yet, the little grin on your face said it all.

Comfortable. That’s how you felt, and it was more than enough.

Lee Heeseung, with the way he moved and acted, showed how he wasn’t rushing to start a relationship, but at the same time made it known to you that he’s seriously interested in you. That he doesn’t want this date to be another mere joke time or something to pass the days by with.

At that moment in time, maybe, you were a little more than strangers, but still a little less than friends.

But something inside of you seemed to assure you that you will be more, in due time.

“Well, my father was driving and his fart was… rather… gut-churning.”

17th August, 1991.

Choking on your food, Heeseung’s laugh seemed to echo in your space inside the restaurant. Immediately, his hand came up to cup your jaw, carefully tilting your head whilst his other hand reached over for the cup of water.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth out of shyness, but your hand landed above Heeseung’s instead. With your other hand, you took the glass of water from his hand, mumbling a little ‘thank you’ to him. Quietly, you drank the water in one go to relax your throat.

You made sure to mumble a quick apology, and Heeseung merely shook his head with a little laugh as if to dismiss it.

The restaurant was elegantly decorated; slow music coming out of the phonograph on the corner where couples danced around at. Both of you kept talking, telling funny stories to each other, relishing in the romantically funny atmosphere. He kept bringing up topics that you were interested in, like how he met Jay and spent most of the time benefiting off of the free meals he’d bought him from being a third wheel.

To say the least, hearing the ‘boring’ life that he had, as what he had claimed, before you arrived, was piquing your interest. And it’s not because you’re a chest-full of pride for going on a date with the rather ‘undateable’ Lee Heeseung, but because he seemed to really be sincere in liking your presence. Like you had made a significant difference in his life, stronger and harder than you never even thought you would.

Seconds later, silence engulfed the atmosphere, with you and Heeseung staring down onto your now empty plates while the music began to waltz louder into your eardrums. You both exchanged shy glances before snorting at your awkward selves, then looking back down again.

Just then, the faint screech of a chair being pushed back catched your attention. Lifting your head, you saw Heeseung extending his hand to you. As if to clarify if you were thinking of the same thing, you locked eyes with him for a moment.

Heeseung nodded and smiled, urging for you to take it, and so you didn’t waste any more time. Holding the napkin from your lap to put on the dining table, you pushed your chair back and stood up, and Heeseung brought you to the dance floor.

Slowly, you began facing each other, and you felt your heart patter wildly against your chest. You were face to face, and it’s not like usual, but you liked it. You liked the feeling.

Heeseung brought your hands to loop behind his neck, though he wasn’t looking you in the eye. A faint blush graced his cheeks, and so teasingly, you stepped in even closer. Heeseung blinked rapidly for a few seconds before you bursted into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, Lee Heeseung. It’s okay to touch me, you know. You can’t keep your hands on your sides forever while we dance.” You grabbed his hand gently, placing it onto your waist. Heeseung inhaled a deep, shaky, breath, but he was trying to bite back a smile.

Soon, both of you swayed along to the music, and the soothing mellow tunes made you slowly begin to lean your head on his shoulder. Your head touched his clothed chest, and you immediately felt his body tense up for a bit before he finally let loose.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Asked him, and a buzz ran down your spine upon hearing his honey-like voice next to your ear. Nodding, you snuggled even closer to his chest, to which you felt it rumble as he let out an adoring chuckle.

A few more seconds into the song and Heeseung calls your name.

Slowly, you lifted your head to give him a curious look, but you were immediately met with his startlingly sparkly orbs. His gaze remained on you for a while until he finally inhaled a breath and said,

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

To say the least, Heeseung felt his heart lighten a bit after he asked you to be his. ‘Twas like a heavy weight was lifted off of his chest, though the uncertainty of what you have to say still beared much weight. Something inside him told him that somehow, it’ll be alright.

For strangers, it might seem to be a little too soon.

But Heeseung believed he shouldn’t wait a lifetime for his happiness to come through when you were already standing right in front of him, shimmering eyes waiting for him to pop the question, lips ready to share the sweetness of your answer.

17th August, 1992.

A year later,

After a year through all of it, Heeseung was more than happy. Euphoric, even. One of the things you’ve both grown to love was having to ride a bike to each other’s houses to bond, sneaking out at late nights to watch the stars, or just going out together on day dates. It was your favorite quality time bonding with him; spending hours on the telephone, or maybe even having to meet at your favorite diner downtown.

Even with the clashing schedules of work, Heeseung made an effort to make you feel happy and loved. There was not a day that passed that he didn’t.

In front of the calendar stood Heeseung, in all his formally handsome glory, staring at the red mark on the paper with a joyous grin.

1st Anniversary with y/n.

He smiled, straightening his back and fixing his brown shirt before he walked to the garage to pick his old bike, a lily bucket flower in his hand. With a little frown on his lips, he sighed, internally cursing Jay for having to have a date with Rina on the same day of your anniversary, and had to borrow his car.

But even though Jake’s beating could wait, your anniversary could not. He’ll deal with him later. For now, he’ll have a long journey ahead of him.

In which, he really is.

“Heeseung? Oh my, you’re sweating.” You gasped as soon as you opened the door, brows drawn into a furrow. But Heeseung was still smiling widely at you like an idiot in love.

“For you, dear. Happy anniversary, I love you.”

Heeseung interjected, ignoring the way you looked so worried while wiping the beads of sweat on his temples. Handing you the bucket of lilies, he placed a sweet kiss on your temple which caught you off guard. Taking the bucket, you inhaled the flowers’ scent.

Just what you love.

Just the thought of Heeseung going through a whole lot to bike his way to your house, and give you a little token of love was enough to make your heart and day full. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you looked up at Heeseung before jumping into his arms, hugging him with a huge smile on your face. Heeseung stumbled a bit backwards due to the shock, but a few seconds later and he was hugging you back, an enamored smile on his lips as he placed a peck on your cheek.

“Thank you, sung!” You backed away, staring at his pretty smile before pinching his cheeks hard. He whined and groaned in pain, though he was laughing along with you. Until he couldn’t feel his cheeks, you let go, making it up to him quickly by placing a quick peck on his lips, then looking around cautiously to see if anybody had seen it.

Upon seeing the coast was clear, you giggled and looked up to adore his smiley face.

“Let's go inside, join the dinner with mum and dad.”

23 March 1993

It was everything you could ever ask for.

You and Heeseung never knew that a sheet of paper could make somebody tremble so badly.

The paper, printed with the logo where Heeseung works at, is shaking in his hand, lightly crumpling by the edge with the way he gripped it. The pounding of his heart was no joke, it reached his ears

“Heesung…”

Quickly, he shut his eyes to stabilize his breathing, inhaling and exhaling so many times, fingers clenched into a fist. Soon, he felt another hand take his; one that helped him throughout his ups and downs in life. A hand that always encouraged him with what he had to do, for his best in his life and for his future. You rubbed circles on the back of his palm and he let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes. His eyes darted from the front to lock with yours, your eyes full of worry yet it made him calm.

Encouragingly, you gave him a smile, he nodded. It’s time.

Letting go of his hand, his index finger and thumb slowly opened the folded paper.

Top left, and you saw the company name.

You just needed the bottom fold.

Heesung trembled a bit before he finally slid his thumb to reveal the answer at the bottom page.

And then, he exhales the breath he was holding.

He took one glance at you, and he saw that your eyes were shaking as you stared at the piece of paper.

Rome.

His company sent him to Rome to continue his work. For two years.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slowly faced him, and he felt his heart hurt at the sight of your worried face. You kept on mumbling, ‘“It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright.” But the quiver of your voice and the tears rolling down your cheeks said otherwise.

“I can… I can—” He stuttered, gulping as he tried to come up with something to say. At that moment, you were already letting your tears flow, although you choked back your inaudible sobs.

Silence.

Both you and Heeseung knew that he needed to do it for his dream. He needed it so he could live, and make a living. And you both knew that a long distance relationship like this wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t, because love is never enough, even when it’s all that you have.

But of course you knew that Heeseung was willing to give it all up for you, too. And yet, as selfish as you want yourself to be, you still don’t want him to give it all up for you. He has to put himself first.

And so, with a facade, you sniffled, shutting your eyes close as you mumbled under your breath,

“Let’s break up. If it’s what’s best for us.”

And just like that, everything that you could ever ask for, was taken from you in the blink of an eye.

You could only hope that by the time he’s back, he wouldn’t become a stranger you just used to know.

September, 1995.

Two years later.

“y/n, do you want to go home together?”

Snapping out of your daze, you quickly shoved the piece of printed paper back inside of your binder. Looking up, you flashed your campus friends a smile with a quirked brow.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure. I should just fix up first. You two can go ahead, I’ll catch up!” And so they nodded, doing as you told them to do. When the door slammed shut and they were out of your sight, your smile fell off of your face. And for a brief moment, your fingers, still halfway inside the binder, slowly pulled the photograph back out again.

Not a day passed when you didn’t look longingly at the only memory you have left of Heeseung. Every single day, you even think you forgot how he looked, a little bit more.

Maybe you regret that you broke up with him.

You sighed hopelessly to yourself.

You really do.

But was there anything you could’ve done, and could do?

Sliding the photograph back in, you shoved the binder inside of your bag before you grabbed it and headed out, not wanting to keep your friends waiting.

In fact, there is one thing you could still do.

And it was to continually hope that Heeseung is safe, even if he was no longer in your arms.

Refusing to succumb to the calling of sleep, he rubbed his eyes before straightening up again, working on the papers he’d received from his boss in record speed in hopes of avoiding getting scolded.

Heeseung sighed heavily, sinking deeper to his office chair. One that he’d been repeatedly wearing out by occupying every single day for two whole years. Heck, he couldn’t even feel uncomfortable in it anymore now that he’d gotten used to it; not like he wanted to, though.

Focus.

Focus—

He took a glance from a picture on his desk.

Okay, now back to work—

And then his eyes went back to the photograph. A longer stare.

A bitter smile graced his lips as he saw the look on your face when he’d surprised you on your graduation day. Your smile was the most precious thing for him, he loved seeing it on you. Perhaps, it still is and he still does, too.

Lifting a hand, his finger caressed the frame. He missed you like crazy, mad crazy. If only…

Thoughts began to cloud his head again, and so he shook his head aggressively in a poor attempt to redirect his thoughts. He successfully snapped out of his trance the moment the intern named Jungwon cleared his throat from behind him before sliding a few stacks of papers onto Heeseung’s desk.

The intern had always found him staring at the photograph clipped onto his desk, and it went without saying that the younger understood. At times when Heeseung was starting to get miserable, the least he could do was disturb him with a ton of work, just like he asked.

December 1995.

But deep down, Heeseung still wished for a chance to meet you again.

Heeseung stood stiffly on the familiar grounds of his childhood, his knees still slightly wobbling and fingers still trembling even though he’d been catching up with a lot of people for hours now. Tens and hundreds of other people were still pushing past him, relishing in the night with loud chattering and laughter, the nostalgia of meeting each other in a reunion oddly exciting enough for them.

Perhaps it wasn’t much of a good idea, but Jay had convinced him to come for it was something “harmless”. It didn’t exactly work the same way for them, but he found himself coming, anyway.

The campus looked the same, the people who attended were the same, the people who attended asked the same questions. There was nothing much to see.

Heeseung couldn’t do anything but swirl his drink around his glass repeatedly to amuse himself. Then, he blankly looked down at the liquid, his other hand fiddling with the cloth of the standing bar table. As a sigh escaped his lips, he lifted his head, and it was as if time stopped.

There you were, having just arrived, one of your childhood friends making your presence known to your other batchmates. It was as if Heeseung had no control over himself, for before he could make himself aware of what he was doing, he was already calling for your name.

“y/n.”

Just like that, you turned your head and faced him, the smile on your lips fading, but your eyes made a sheer glimmer.

“Heeseung.” You whispered out, clearing your throat before excusing yourself from your batchmates and taking a few steps closer towards him. “Fancy seeing you here. I really thought you wouldn’t come.”

You fiddled with your clothes, not making eye contact with him. He did the same, his hand now stiffly pressing his wine glass on the table while he tried to calm himself down.

Heeseung gulped, “You too.”

And then silence. Awkward silence.

Thankfully enough, the emcees on the stage began to announce the start of the countdown for the fireworks display. It was enough to bail you out of the awkward situation, so you tried to take advantage of it.

“Well then, I should—”

“I missed you.” Heeseung blurted out just as you turned away to leave. He hissed at himself, shutting his eyes close as he ducked his head down. “So much.”

His voice was almost a whisper as he spoke, and slightly, you turned to face him, looking at him with mellow eyes from over your shoulder. He inhaled a deep, shaky, breath, and then he boldly reached for your wrist, but his grip was gentle and almost pleading for you to stay.

“I know that this is probably not the right time nor the right place to talk about it but—”

Without any more words being said, you pulled him in, cutting him off with a kiss. The tears of longing trickling down your cheeks contrasted the blasts of fireworks from the skies, but your passion and love for one another was still as intense as the crack of the colorful lights.

And so, you meet again.

Not as lovers, not as friends.

But then maybe, just maybe, when the night ends, you will be more than just two strangers with some memories.

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pollenat · 3 years

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TXT and 5 ways to say I love you

YEONJUN

A stray glance you catch by an accident. Smile that instantly blooms on his face, strong enough to have you turning away, because of how shameless it feels to be its subject. The instant need to look again. Struggling for just a few seconds. In the end, your eyes are returning to catch his again. The smile that has slightly fallen in the meantime returns to its full glory. Now with an undertone of humor your shyness has caused.

Watching the cloudy outdoors. People are running in different directions, eager to escape the nasty weather. As some pull coats tighter to hide from the cold, you chew on a hot noodle, secure in the warm insides of a restaurant. You’re so taken by the spectacle, you don’t notice an approaching face. Yeonjun kisses the corner of your lips. He’s all proud smirks, because he caught you off guard. Though you’re embarrassed, you don’t push him away.

The need to be closer. Breathe in his smell. Find the imperfections that perfect him. Feel the texture of his stiff eyelashes. Shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Gaze at the nail he accidentally cut too short. Skim both the softness and the roughness of his skin. Hear emotion in the tone of his voice. Look at him and feel alive. That’s why missing him when he’s gone is so difficult. You can’t keep your mind clear for long enough. All you can do is need, need and need.

Standing on your own, only to be approached before you can get lonely. A warm embrace is the first to welcome you, though you haven’t registered its bearer yet. Sure, it’s obvious - there’s no one else who’d do so other than Yeonjun, but his appearance needs to be acknowledged by your mind before you can relax in his hold. Warmth rests against the side of your head. Though your surroundings are loud, his breath breaks through. There’s something therapeutic to its presence, but you don’t voice the thought aloud. Instead, you lean towards the source of affection.

The waterfall of messages, marked by constant ringing. Your phone is turned downwards. It vibrates violently against the wooden surface of a night table. Tired, shaken and, in a way, empty inside, you finally reach for it. Your eyes do their best not to read the words. It’s the settings you’re looking for. Profile? Silent. Though the notifications don’t stop coming, you welcome the lack of irritating sound effects with relief. Just as you’re about to put the phone away, a stray word catches your attention. Please.

SOOBIN

The laughable lack of space in the photobooth. Soobin’s crescent-like eyes are watching your wide smile of embarrassment as you struggle to fit legs inside. His hand is keeping you from falling out of the booth. The two of you lean as close to one another as possible, so your faces are caught by the built-in camera. The seconds of panic in-between blinding flashes are made of ideas, but no confidence on how to pose next. What could have been is realized while waiting for the pictures to develop. When it’s done, your heads knock from laughing at the chaotic final product.

Lying on the floor during a particularly hot Summer day. The wooden panels are cold - a stark contrast to the suffocating warmth of air. You can’t move, nor do you want to. Soobin’s face is turned towards yours. He tries a smile, but you can tell he’s about to fall asleep. A bead of sweat is rolling down his forehead. You catch it, but do not take your hand away from Soobin’s skin. Like a kitten, he cuddles to the opened palm. Fingers close on your forearm to keep it in place.

The simplicity of him saying just a few words. They’re nothing big, the most used words among humans, one would think. And yet, coming from Soobin’s lips and meant for you - they gain an impossible strength. One that seems enough to lift your spirits at the end of an exhausting day. One that has you proud even of the smallest of achievements. One that makes the difference. Though Soobin doesn’t seem aware of the effect he has on your mood, he doesn’t need encouragement to continue spoiling you with simple, but magical words.

A fogged window. Though you can easily make out the familiar silhouette, you stay back, waiting for him to make the first move. Soobin’s hand raises to draw a shape in the colorless space. He’s slow and meticulous, careful as to not make any mistake in his adaptation of a heart. When the starting point meets with the ending one, he clears the space inside. A dark eye - now the only sharp shape - winks at you through, sending a wave of warm feelings along.

He should be mad. You’re mad, so why can’t he be as well? Instead of cursing, screaming, talking, he just sits with head hung. Quiet, sad rather than angry. You cannot find a voice to attack him for that. No arguments are given back. Soobin is silent. You want to leave and you announce so, but he catches your forearm to pull you back. Though you’re tense, his arms embrace you. As if a simple hug could fix everything wrong with the situation. As if you weren’t boiling inside. As if his silence wasn’t more hurtful than the possible words.

BEOMGYU

The bubbles of excitement, and how they keep you feeling light. Catching your own smile in a mirror. Lacking certainty when picking your clothes. Smelling yourself just to make sure. Looking at your phone in case he left a message. Checking your teeth before leaving. Smiling at your own need for speed, because you may see Beomgyu a little bit quicker. Looking at the passersby in hope of meeting his humored gaze. Hearing a snicker before turning to see him. Finally.

Grinning like an idiot, at least so you tell yourself. Through the timelessness of Beomgyu’s teasing, he has never once said so about your smiles. But you do feel like it’s the best way to describe it - idiotic. Because how come you’re reacting so strongly to something as natural as Beomgyu’s side profile? Just a look at him and you’re all smiles. How come just a brief meeting of your hands has your skin sweating, and you’re stuck between the embarrassment of sudden intimacy as well as the need to close the useless distance.

The darkness. You can barely make out his features, though he’s centimetres away. A ray of light places a face-long scar on his right cheek. Beomgyu pulls the zipper down to erase it. Now it’s completely black. The edges of his face are just memories your brain puts in front of you. He giggles, breath blowing at your lips. A small piece of nowhere you can forget yourself in. Beomgyu’s fingers return to your awaiting hand, though it’s happening outside the bubble of hoods zipped together. Inside, your mouth meets another in a toast to the small kingdom of obliviousness.

Pulling duvet over your head at night. Biting on your knuckles. Curling toes. You try everything to stop yourself from making noise, although the need for laughter has your throat itching. With wide eyes staring at the light screen of your phone, you type down a quick response. Thumb hesitates before pressing the send button. You reread the answer, anxious to make it as funny as possible. As soon as the cloud of text changes colors, a small icon of Beomgyu’s head appears next to it

Biting your lips to keep them from opening. You don’t want them to tremble, or release hurtful words. The stiff silence is a stark contrast to Beomgyu's loud words of pure annoyance. At that moment you feel like crawling beneath the ground to lie there for eternity. He wouldn’t notice. You’re facing his back as he continues counting down all the little sins that have brought you to the point of (what seems like) no return - the hell on Earth, where Beomgyu’s face is no longer illuminated by his branded mischevious smile.

TAEHYUN

The whoosh of wind as you swing forward. Its cold kisses being placed on the shells of your ears. Fingers sliding down the chains, the metallic smell mixing with your palms’ sweat. Another hand closing on yours to stop the swing. Cringing at the weak jerk the sudden ending causes. Taehyun’s small smile, such a natural sight for your eyes. A duet of ice cones locked in the hold of his other hand. The feeling of freezing cold on your chin when he swipes the ice against it. His laughter that follows.

The words of affection you didn’t know you needed. They’re said in the company of a sincere gaze and although it’s overpowering, you hold it. Arms circle around you, gentle and slow. It’s as if you were a young deer that could escape him any moment. But you’re not. Though tortured, with sadness hidden in the depths of your chest, you want the comfort to overtake you. You want him to be the reason everything is worth it, because what is life without reason?

Surprising him and the excitement that overtakes you, seconds before he jumps in place, then screams. Taehyun looks annoyed. No wonder, you expect as much. His cheeks are squished. Endearment you’re feeling for the boy has you drowning in warmth. Though Taehyun is gently pushing you away, both of you know he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. Childish giggling accompanies your playfight, because that’s how you feel around him - free and fresh, like a child.

Hiding behind hands when you’re laughing. Though the humor has overtaken you, the insecurity hasn’t. Fingers dig into the skin of your cheeks as the spasms of laughter raise in strength. Taehyun’s shaking in his spot as well, but he takes a moment to reach forward. The fingers are pulled away and to your sides, now interlaced with his. Even if you want to turn away, you have nowhere to escape. Not as long as he has the hold on your hands, therefore, a hold on you.

His chin held up high, eyes cold, lips twisted. Though just a second ago you missed him to pieces, now that he’s close, you wish to be as far away from him as possible. You’re not used to that cold version of Taehyun, even if you’re aware of its existence. The lack of clear answers he has to your questions is unnerving. You know he’s waiting for an apology, but you don’t want to give him one. The argument was mutual, and you’re just as hurt by its aftermath. It will take you a while to heal the wounds caused by stabbing words.

HUENING KAI

A chaotic collection of scenes being played on the TV. You cannot figure out the plot, but you do not care much for it. The author won’t know of your small offence anyways. What you’re paying attention to, is the sound of calm breathing. It comes from a face leaning against the top of your head. You can feel the softness of a cheek splayed against your own skin. The shoulder you’re using as a pillow raises along with Kai’s deep breaths. His left hand lies on your thigh, motionless. Fingers twitch every time the volume raises.

Running down a road in the evening. Kai’s hand is secured in your grip, the sound of his irregular breathing mixes with yours. The streetlights cast shadows you pass on the way. Thunder resonates in the background. Small droplets of rain start their descent from the sky. Quite a few land on your head. Before you can make it to the bus stop, the rain turns heavy. Kai pulls you underneath the stop’s roof. You’re standing chest to chest, completely soaked, watching the wall of rain you’re no longer the victim of.

The weight of a heavy arm on your shoulders. It’s warmth spreads through the back of your neck, keeping you safe from the oh so dangerous room temperature. With head empty, you stare at nothing in particular. The conversation Kai is having with his friend doesn’t reach your ears though you’re practically glued to the boy’s side. Somehow having him close makes you forget all about the rest, whatever it may be. Plush on your forehead. You realize it’s a kiss from Kai. Though he doesn’t look at you, s smile blossoms on your features.

Holding onto the corner of his jacket. Kai doesn’t comment your bad mood, but you see the acknowledgement written on his face. There’s a small sympathetic smile that turns teasing every now and then. Kai doesn’t grab your hands, instead waits for you to make the first move. The fact has your eyes saddened. It’s unfair how well he can sync with your emotions. Like he’s a guardian angel of sorts. Kai sends you another smile over his shoulder, but moved, you do not return it.

The infuriating lack of response. You talk, voice raised, knuckles white, and he’s turned away from you, lips closed, back tense. Though you grab his hand, he instantly pulls it free. When you try to stand in front of him, he just turns away. No eye contact, no direct words. He’s infuriating, raising the temperature of your boiling blood. You’ve had enough of yourself and you want him to talk back, but he won’t. No matter how much steam raises from your head, he won’t answer.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#i'd like to dedicate watching the rain with kai to cat & dog's prechoruses #txt fanfiction #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt fluff #txt angst #txt x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop headcanons #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop x reader #boy group

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #241: DARK ANGEL!

March, 1984

The Magical Menace of MORGAN LE FEY!

Hey, uh, Morgan. The pink dimension looks like its bad for your skin? You might want to see a dermatologist?

Also, stop squeezing She-Hulk! She’s not a novelty toy and her eyes don’t pop out in any way you’d want.

Oh! The Avengers book has gone from The Avengers to the Mighty Avengers again. Wonder why.

Anyway.

Last time on As the Avengers Turn: The Avengers get a call from San Francisco that Jessica Drew Spider-Woman is in a coma. Also, that Jessica Drew Spider-Woman is a person they know. They’ve forgotten. The whole world has forgotten because Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman had a wizard mind wipe the world of her existence after she went back in time and shoved Morgan Le Fey out of a tower.

Dammit, what is it with spiders and mindwipes??

The ghost of Morgan is keeping Jessica’s mind separate from her body, hoping to get her revenge by killing Jess and then stealing her body to revive herself.

The Avengers call in Dr Strange and World’s Best Biophysicist Hank Pym to help deal with Coma Jess (but not that one) and some of Jess’ friends like Tigra and the Shroud are also hanging around.

This time on Avengers of Our Lives:

Running and shouting in the hospital? Jessica Drew may be at stake but common courtesy is still a thing!

This random assortment of everyone who wasn’t already in the hospital room rushes towards the hospital room but finds that there’s some manner of glowing barrier blocking the entrance.

Doctors and nurses bang on the glow fruitlessly and Wasp joins them in that by blasting it to no effect.

Wasp: “Hmmm, my Wasp’s sting can blow a good-sized hole in any ordinary wall! This is a bother!”

You’ve kinda scaled back from bragging you could blow up a house, Jan.

Tigra goes to scratch the glowing barrier and just falls right through it.

Cue pratfall noise.

After some frightening expressions from She-Hulk, Wasp and She-Hulk figure hey maybe we can just go right through too!

And they doooo!

Shroud feels some resistance from the barrier but when he thinks about how worried he is about Jessica Drew, the barrier lets him through.

Meanwhile, the assorted medical staff still can’t get in hah

Inside, the heroes learn that the barrier was put up by Dr. Strange to keep out medical staff. Those trained professionals will just get in the way.

Scarlet Wanda the Witch also recaps for the people who weren’t in the room what happened last time with Spider-Woman’s ghost trying to reunite with her body but bouncing off and becoming a photo negative. And that if they can’t jam her spirit back into her meat, Jessica will be left a mindless vegetable foreverrr.

Also, Jessica’s vital signs are fading fast and Dr. Strange is needing to put a lot of attention to keeping Jessica’s astral form together.

It will be up to someone else to investigate!

Dr. Strange: “Whatever force is behind this, it must be incredibly powerful!”

Morgan, helpfully showing her entire hand: “Power?! Hah! You cannot begin to comprehend the extent of my power!”

It will be up to nobody to investigate because Morgan Le Fey is going to just broadcast her involvement, turning Dr. Strange’s barrier into a wide-screen tv.

Morgan Le Fey: “Hear me, mortals -- I am Morgan Le Fey, and I was all but supreme in the arts of sorcery, centuries before you were born! I shall not brook any interference in my quest for revenge upon Jessica Drew... she who called herself Spider-Woman!”

Morgan lays out all her grievances viz being pushed out a window by Jessica and her evil schemes ie stealing Jessica’s body but She-Hulk is She-Hulk and less than impressed.

She-Hulk: “You think we’d let you just waltz in and take over somebody else’s body?!”

Morgan Le Fey: “If you are wise, yes!”

She-Hulk: “No way, sister! And as for striking us down... I’d like to see you try!”

Morgan Le Fey: “Hah-ha-ha-hah-ha! Very well! But first -- let us have a bit of... fun!”

And Morgan summons a bunch of evil beasties and tendrils and pink beads strung together through the portal at the heroes.

Dammit She-Hulk, you antagonized the magic lady!

Dr. Strange blocks some of it but he’s still mostly tied up with keeping Jessica’s soul alive sooooo someone else get on this.

So someone else gets on it. The Avengers and other superheroes leap to fight these random spell effects as they do best. Mostly by punching. And there’s some blasting.

Shroud finds that the darkness he controls seems to disorient the creatures Morgan summoned. Handy!

But they’re just holding the line there and if they keep playing defensive, Jessica Drew is going to die since Morgan is blocking her soul from her body. So they need to take the battle to Morgan.

Thankfully Janet “Magic is a little out of the Avengers’ line” van Dyne has a plan.

The mystical window Morgan le Fey was doing magic through suddenly clouds up with Shroud’s darkness. She blows away the darkness with demon winds, as ya do, but when the winds clear away the darkness, bam, Scarlet Witch, She-Hulk, Shroud, and Starfox!

Morgan turned Dr. Strange’s barrier into a window so he turned her window into a door. Fair’s fair.

And Wanda instantly manipulates the probability of Morgan falling on her ass.

Good.

Starfox flies forward to finish Morgan off but this is page 10 not page 20mumble so Morgan blasts the hapless space idiot.

Morgan Le Fey: “I don’t care how powerful you mortals think you are! I am Morgan Le Fey! No one, not even Merlin himself, could contain me forever!”

Getting punched off a tower and disintegrating was a minor inconvenience!

Meanwhile, everyone who didn’t go through the barrier window door is still in the hospital room fighting off Morgan’s spells because yes she can fight several heroes on the astral plane while also maintaining a bunch of spells in another dimension.

Even Dr. Strange has to admit that she’s very powerful.

We do get a nice follow-up on Tigra’s time on the Avengers though as Captain Marvel’s determination in the face of spooky magic inspires Tigra.

Tigra: Incredible! This stuff has her nearly as spooked as it has me, but she’s working real hard not to show it! Somehow, that makes it easier to fight this stuff! But I still don’t like it!

Wasp assists World Famous Biophysicist Hank Pym as he monitors Jessica Drew’s vitals. No time for post-divorce awkwardness, Jessica Drew is at stake! And at risk of dying soon due to the stress of all of this.

Meanwhile, back in New York at Avengers Mansion, Captain America comes home from his solo adventures. Apparently he hasn’t heard about Vision the Great and Powerful hologram head because he’s confused.

Vision explains and then Hawkeye comes in and explains in smaller words and Cap is like Oh I See.

And then a computer in the communications center explodes. As one doesn’t.

Vision: “I really must apologize for that sudden overload in the monitor systems. It’s nothing to get alarmed about, though! I’ve rerouted that screen’s functions through a back-up system! No need to worry... I have everything taken care of! Everything!”

Dubious Cap: “Yes... I’m sure you have Vision.”

But Hawkeye pulls Cap away from his skeptical stare to take him to meet Mockingbird.

Vision: That power surge was similar to the one I detected previously -- but this one was even more powerful! The monitor overloaded before I could get a fix on it! But I msut find the source of this mysterious energy! I must! Anything capable of generating such power could upset all of my plans! And that must not be!

Hmm, I’m not sure what that power surge thing is. Could be Secret Wars lurking around the horizon... the time period is right. But more to the point, Vision, ‘that could upset all my plans’ isn’t something superheroes tend to say/think! That’s kinda ominous!

Back over at the A plot, Morgan Le Fey turns into a giant made out of random bits of terrain, as one does when one is Morgan Le Fey.

Morgan Le Fey: “ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE IN MY DOMAIN! AS YOU WERE ALL FOOLHARDY ENOUGH TO BODILY ENTER THE ASTRAL DIMENSION, I HAVE CREATED MYSELF A BODY WHICH YOU CAN BATTLE... A BODY FORMED FROM THE VERY STUFF OF THIS REALM!”

I don’t appreciate her evil schemes but I admire her energy. She’s villaining good.

Interesting that the cover still gave her ‘made out of random crap’ texture but used her normal colors instead of yellow, orange, and purple. I feel like at that point, just make her look like a normal giant Morgan Le Fey and have it be more representative of what happens than what actually happens.

Anyway.

Forcing Morgan to gigamax means less of her attention is focused on the hospital room which means all her spells there are getting weaker. Unfortunately including the barrier window door which starts shrinking. And unfortunately not including the barrier around Jessica Drew who is now in danger of going into cardiac arrest due to acute soul deficiency.

Dr. Strange decides that now, and not any moment before now, is the time to act. He uses the Eye of Agamotto to make contact with “the captive psyche of the motionless dark angel...”

So there we go. That’s why the issue is titled DARK ANGEL. This one off description of photo-negative Jessica Drew soul.

Personally, I think “The Magical Menace of Morgan Le Fey!” would have made a better title but Roger Stern and/or Mark Gruenwald probably know what they’re doing.

Dr. Strange makes contact with Jessica and empowers her with the Eye of Agamotto.

Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman: “Y-yes, I do feel stronger somehow! But I’m still so... so lost!”

Dr. Strange: “Never fear, Jessica! The light will show you the way home! Follow the light!”

Huuuuuuuuuh. Usually an iffy thing to tell someone in a coma but. I mean. He is a doctor.

But Jessica finds the.... astral winds? Some kind of winds. Which I think represent the barrier Morgan put up to keep Jessia out of her body. Anyway, there are winds and they are too mighty for Jess to make headway against.

AND THEN, MAGNUS.

He roused from Morgan’s sneak attack a bit earlier and now he’s here to narrate his entire backstory.

Because, of course.

Jessica also notes that he looks so pale but he’s the same shade of white as he’s been so I dunno.

Centuries ago, Magnus was but a student sorcerer. Merlin rejected his apprentice application so he became the student and lover of Morgan Le Fey. Because Morgan’s evil. You think she cares about student-teacher ethics?

Magnus was young and in love and convinced himself that all of Morgan’s rants about how much she hated King Arthur was totally not a problem.

And then she found the Darkhold and even Magnus realized ‘oh this isn’t great, is it?’

So he stole the Darkhold, hid it in a tower that those of evil intent could not enter, and then went on the run.

Morgan eventually found him and killed him while he was astral projecting, Magnus having to devise a spell pretty much on the spot to let him continue on as a not-Force ghost.

With great effort, Magnus could visit Earth for brief periods by possessing people. On some of those visits, he met and assisted and fell in love with Jessica.

Magnus: “Jessica, so much that has befallen you has been because of me! Morgan used you to strike at me, even as she used me to strike at you. Yes, and to my shame, I set you ‘gainst her! Because of me, you have existed these past days in a twilight between death and the life you love so much! I have seen people, good people, risking their lives to save you... I could do no less!”

So Magnus uses the last bit of his magic, and his cohesion as a not-Force ghost, to still the psychic winds and let her rejoin her body.

Not bad, Magnus.

You’re still a bit of a creep but good way to go out.

Dark Angel Spider-Woman melds back into Jessica Drew, her vitals stabilize, and she comes out of her coma.

Hooray, Jessica Drew has been undeaded!

In the astral plane, Morgan senses that the Great Jessica Drew Body Caper has been thwarted and she’s miffed.

Morgan Le Fey: “DEMONS OF CHTHON!! MY HOLD ON SPIDER-WOMAN HAS BEEN BROKEN! I CAN SENSE IT! BUT... THIS CANNOT BE!”

And while she’s distracted yelling at nobody in particular, Team Take the Fight to Morgan strikes her good.

Scarlet Witch makes it very probably that a bunch of pink explosions will explode all over her, She-Hulk and Starfox do her some punches, and the Shroud shrouds her face with shrouding darkness.

She-Hulk: “Oh, that jaw is just too tempting a target! Say ‘good night,’ Morgie! You’re gonna be a hit in the landfill business!”

You’re doing great, Jen.

Morgan Le Fey: “You... insolent... WHELP! You cannot defeat Morgan by mere physical might! I shall yet have my vengeance! If Spider-Woman is denied me I shall take your body!”

Ghost Morgan jumps out of giant rock giant Morgan to try to body-jack She-Hulk but Dr. Strange has something to say to that.

He says ‘nah.’

Or more specifically “Flame of Faltine swirl and sunder and turn ‘round this foul exchange! Let yon sorceress stay rock-bound... by the power of Doctor Strange!”

Which. To be honest. Is much cooler.

Makes sense though. He was tied up keeping Jess’ soul together for most of the issue. Not having to do that anymore meant he could slip in and punk Morgan.

She’s less than pleased.

Morgan Le Fey, from inside a giant disembodied rock version of her own head: “You’ll live to rue this day, Doctor Strange! From this day forward I am your sworn enemy!”

To be fair, you two would have wound up at odds eventually anyway if you insisted on being magical and evil so I don’t know how much remorse he’s feeling about thwarting you now. Probably none.

Anyway. Dr. Strange hurries everyone through the barrier window door portal before he runs out of effort to keep it open.

Back in Jessica Drew’s hospital room, Hank Pym announces the cost of getting uncancelled like she was.

Hank Pym: “The ordeal you went through caused some radical changes in your body chemistry. I’m afraid that your life as Spider-Woman is over... No more sticking to walls, no more venom blasts! From now on, you’re just a normal woman!”

Okay. So, her book got cancelled and she was killed off and written out of memory. Back in June, 1983. But now in March, 1984, that death and so on is being retconned. Jessica gets to be alive again!

So why does she lose her powers?

Well. She failed the sales test. And she was originally created to squat a trademark. And Marvel only puts so much support behind their trademark squatters. If all that matters is that someone is squatting the trademark rather than the character itself, it made more sense to Marvel to cycle through characters rather than supporting something that is losing them money.

It happened to Mar-Vell (death April, 1982) to give us Monica Rambeau instead (August, 1982). And now its happening to Jessica Drew. Her time as Spider-Woman is up because Marvel is just going to try another take on the concept. Julia Carpenter, coming soon.

Of course, you can’t keep a good Jessica down, either. Kind of like when Reed Richards makes any definite statement, Hank Pym’s assertion that Jessica has been rendered powerless is going to be proven not entirely true.

Either way, Jessica is too thrilled to be alive to fuss about losing her powers. She’s going to continue private detecting even if its harder without superpowers!

Hm. Jessica Jones being a rated M for Mature expy of Jessica Drew becomes more and more obvious.

Anyway.

The Spider-Woman may be gone, but for Jessica Drew a bright new life beckons!

Yay!

Follow @essential-avengers for Julia Carpenter? Yes, eventually. And maybe sooner than you’d think. Unless you look up dates. Don’t look up dates. Preserve the mystery. Or don’t. I can’t stop you. You’re too strong. Also, like and follow if you like.

#avengers #Morgan Le Fey #the Wasp #She Hulk #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Scarlet Witch #Starfox #dr strange #Tigra #Spider Woman #Jessica Drew #Hank Pym #Magnus the wizard who sucks at his job #he did an okay job here though I guess #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Walking the Baseline (Year 2012)

Chapter Summary: He’s seen her around. Of course he has. They walk in the same circles, play at all of the same combined tournaments, and they have mutual friends. It’s not until they both win the Australian Open and start talking over Instagram that Killian Jones gets to know Emma Swan. He doesn’t expect one message to turn into more, and he certainly doesn’t expect to find himself knowing who Emma is when she’s not got a racket in her hands.

Even more, he doesn't expect to let her know who he is off the court when that's a secret he holds close to the vest.

Rating: Teen-ish.

a/n: I told you guys I had more Walking the Baseline coming, and I meant it! I did not expect you guys to be so excited about this universe, but you’re always blowing me away! So, here’s their story for part of the year 2012, four years before the events of Walking the Baseline and the RIO Olympics.

You do not need to have read the original one-shot to understand. If you haven’t, well, that just means you’ll be surprised with the ending of this collection 😂

Found on AO3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 (Part One) | 2016 (Part Two)

-/-

2012.

“You look nice, Swan.”

She’s standing in front of him in a pair of long white paints and a matching white shirt that bares her midriff. Her lips are painted red, her blonde hair long and curled. It’s different to how he usually sees her, but the same can be said for him as he adjusts his jacket sleeves. They spend their lives in athletic wear with sweat an almost constant companion. They do not spend their lives dressed up like this.

“Same to you. How are you not dripping in sweat?”

“Oh, I bloody well am. It’s hidden under the jacket.”

Emma laughs and flips her hair off her neck. “Damn Australian summers. Been trying to kill me since I was eighteen.”

“But now you’re the queen of the court. Congratulations, by the way. That was a damn good match.”

She smiles and adjusts her trophy as he does the same, the flashes of photographers surrounding them and the water behind them. They’ve both done their individual photographs but are now doing promotion for the tournament and Nike, their clothing sponsor. Killian has the beginnings of a long flight today, and Emma has an even longer one to America. He believes she lives in Florida, but it could also be New York. Maybe California. He’ll ask Ariel if she knows, because he already knows she will have the answer to every question he asks. His manager knows everything there is to know about everybody. Somewhere in that brain of hers, Ariel Fisher has a file on Emma Swan that Killian has never bothered to ask about.

It’s not that he’s never been intrigued. She’s a damn good tennis player and a successful one at that. He’s watched her rise to the top of their sport for years now, and while they’ve done a few photo shoots and charity matches together, they’re never talked much outside of a professional capacity. He knows her brother is her coach and she’s close to Ruby Lucas, another player, and he’s read a little about her upbringing. That’s something she keeps close to the vest, but he gets it. He does the same thing. That isn’t the easiest when you’re on the world’s stage like they are. Now, everyone has to know the details of personal lives of athletes, and it makes staying private difficult when you have to brand yourself to get sponsors. Killian would rather run for five hours over doing an interview, especially now that he’s given twenty interviews since the championship last night.

It’s media overload in every way.

“Congratulations to you. I may have slept through half your match, but what I saw was good.”

“Thanks,” Killian laughs, scratching his chin. “I’m terrified that if I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up.”

“Oh, that’s definitely a risk. David had to slide me out of the bed this morning. I’m only wearing this because I was too lazy to shave. I was pretty sure I’d have to have help.”

He bites his tongue to keep from making the comment he wants to make and turns back to the camera, smiling and nodding, following the rest of the instructions. He and Emma are quickly pulled in different directions to finish out their obligations, and before he knows it, he’s on a plane, flying away from Australia. It’s been a month since he’s been home, and Oxshott has never seemed so good even if there is no one at home waiting to greet him.

-/-

Killian grabs a sweater from the shelf, pulling it over his shoulders, and heads downstairs where he fixes himself a cup of tea and settles on his couch, his television playing in the background. It’s been a long day. His first day back training after a week break nearly killed his knees, but that’s over now. He’s put in his time on the court and at the gym, and no one is going to bother him for the rest of the day. He’s muted Ariel’s name in his phone, and if she really needs him, she’ll call him from Eric’s phone.

God does he hope she doesn’t need him tonight.

Nemo better not either because Killian does not want to see his coach’s face again until early tomorrow morning.

Despite his sweater, he’s still chilled. Going from an Australian summer to a British winter is quite the adjustment. It’s nearly as bad as the jetlag.

Killian’s phone dings in his hand, and he dreads what message he’s surely gotten. He expects it to be Ariel from Eric’s phone, but it’s an Instagram message.

@EmmaSwan: Whoever said @KillianJones was photogenic needs to take a serious look at these photos.

He looks at the photographs, and it’s a series of horribly awkward faces he’s made. He remembers this moment of the shoot. A bug kept trying to fly into his mouth, and at one point, it succeeded. Emma looks great in them, laughing with a bright smile, and she’s right: there’s no part of him that’s photogenic there.

@KillianJones: So you’re saying there are people out there who think I’m photogenic?

Her reply comes instantly.

@EmmaSwan: Well, there were! ;)

Killian laughs and then clicks on her profile, scrolling through. She has several pictures from her win, a few training videos, but mostly it’s pictures of her with some of the women she’s friends with on tour or her brother and sister-in-law. His page is so different in that it’s made up of a majority of tennis photos. He doesn’t share much about his personal life there because there isn’t much to share lately, and when there was, he didn’t want the world to know who he was dating. They did, of course. There were few ways to hide it all when he had photographers literally hiding in bushes, but he imagines if it was a relationship he truly held sacred, he would find a way to keep it hidden away.

Milah was the last person he would have wanted that with, but she was a fan of the attention. She still is if what he sees around is any indication. She married some older man who is worth millions, but other than that, Killian tries not to keep up with her. Some days it goes better than others, but being disconnected from the world does help.

Social media definitely doesn’t.

And after looking at Emma’s profile a little more carefully, he realizes her profile is more private than he thought. In some way, every photo that has a person in it relates back to tennis.

Killian exits out of the app and goes to the link Ariel sent him of all the photos from his shoot with Emma. He clicks on it and tries to find one where she looks bad. It takes awhile, damn gorgeous woman, but he eventually finds one where the wind blew her hair in front of her and she’s making an awful face. It’s perfect, and Killian quickly saves it and a nicer photo to his phone before uploading them to Instagram.

@KillianJones: @EmmaSwan, if only your serve was as big as your hair.

@EmmaSwan direct messaged you.

@EmmaSwan: My serve stats are better than your serve stats.

@KillianJones: Lies.

@EmmaSwan: Okay, well, my hair is also better than your hair.

@KillianJones: Eh, I wouldn’t say that either.

@EmmaSwan: My ass is better than your ass.

@KillianJones: Now, I will fully agree with that.

@EmmaSwan: Isn’t it, like, midnight in England? What are you doing up, old man?

@KillianJones: Watching TV and having a cuppa. Truly exciting times here.

@EmmaSwan has added a picture to this chat.

It’s a shot of her legs, her feet resting on the court. There’s a pool of sweat underneath her, and he is not jealous. It’s February, and while he knows she lives in south Florida – he did ask Ariel – it shouldn’t be warm enough for anyone to sweat that much unless they put in a massive amount of effort.

He must be getting old for this game if just thinking about that makes him want to retire, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening anytime soon. He told Liam he would play until he no longer had a passion for the game.

That hasn’t happened yet.

@EmmaSwan: I’m making my mark on this court. I cannot wait to be in my pajamas watching TV tonight. If I can get up from this chair.

@KillianJones: I’m sure you can slide home in that lovely pool of sweat.

@EmmaSwan: Honestly, I have thought about it.

@EmmaSwan: I’ve got to practice my shitty serve, but I’ll think of smacking your face every time I do it. I’m sure my numbers will be higher than ever.

@KillianJones: Anything I can do to help.

-/-

“How do you eat your strawberries?”

“With my fingers,” Killian says, arching his brow at such a ridiculous question.

“You’re supposed to say with cream.”

Killian spins around behind him, and he immediately sees Emma Swan walking toward him. He hasn’t seen her in months as the tours haven’t had a joint tournament since Australia, but they’ve been chatting pretty regularly over Instagram. He’s never liked the app, but it’s one of his most used ones now.

“Excuse me, lass?”

“You’re doing a promotion for Wimbledon, idiot. They want all of us to say we eat our strawberries with cream.”

“I actually don’t love the cream.”

Emma mock gasps, covering her chest with her hands, before stepping up to him and giving him a quick hug he’s sure is for the cameras surrounding them. “Well, they should kick you out of England for saying something like that.”

“Believe me, they’ve tried, but I chained myself to the ground to keep it from happening.”

“I’m sure we could find you a place here if we had to.”

“Your place?” Killian jokes.

“In your dreams, Jones.” Emma widens her smile before turning to the camera. “I’d eat my strawberries with cream, just in case you want to use me for the promotions instead of this shameful excuse for a Brit.”

“Actually,” the producer behind the camera says, “we have a game that we’d love for the two of you to play together if you want. We usually don’t have two of the bigger names up here at once.”

“What’s the game?” Emma asks.

“It’s basically beer pong.”

Emma tilts her head back with laughter and claps her hands together. “Oh, I’m good at this. You’re going down, Jones.”

“Nice to see your competitive spirit doesn’t die off the court.”

“It never does.”

Emma shrugs and walks over to where they have a ping pong table set up on the roof of this building. Killian gets to travel a lot of beautiful places for his job, and while he doesn’t get to explore a lot of them, he does get to take in the view. He’ll never get over the oasis that is Palm Springs with its mountains going as far as the eye can see with palm trees and lush vegetation filling in so many other gaps. There’s a hell of a lot of desert, but considering Killian only goes between the tournament and his hotel, he doesn’t see that. For him, it’s all about the oasis.

“You ready?” Emma asks as they settle at opposite ends of the table. “It’s going to be a challenge to beat me.”

He winks and leans forward, hovering over the cups of water. “I do so love a challenge.”

-/-

“I mean, I wouldn’t say that you had a bad reputation.”

Killian rolls his eyes and toes his trainers off, kicking them across his hotel room in Monte Carlo. He pulls his phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker so he can change clothes while Emma talks.

“Then what would you say, love?”

He imagines she shrugs, and if he wasn’t disgustingly sweaty despite his shower at the club, he’d video call her instead of this. “I would say you had a colorful reputation.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s the same thing.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Emma sighs. “It’s…”

“Swan, I was on the verge of getting all my sponsorships taken away at the age of twenty-two. I’d barely gotten started, and I nearly fucked it all up by drinking too much and being enough of an idiot to do it in public.”

“And now you’re England’s poster boy for all sports, so at least from a publicity standpoint, it’s all okay.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right, and he appreciates being talked down after an awful contract negotiation with one of his sponsors and what will surely be an equally awful conversation with Ariel later. They decided that they suddenly had issues with some shit he pulled six years ago, and he’s tired of having to explain himself to people.

His fucking brother died, and Killian didn’t handle it well. How is anyone supposed to handle that, let alone a twenty-two-year-old whose only family was that brother? It was too much, and while he didn’t tank his career, he did derail it, drinking and sleeping around and making horrible choices for his body. There are times when he still wants to do that, but he knows better now. His grief is private, and the world will never see it again unless it’s on his terms.

“My brother’s life was taken because of a drunk driver, and, you know, I’d give up all the sponsorships to have him back. I’d give it all up. And I know I did a piss poor job at dealing with my grief by getting drunk just like the man who killed him, even if I never got behind the wheel, but what was I supposed to do? It hurt too much to not be dulled.”

The other end is silent, and he focuses on his own breathing. It’s heavy now, and he can feel his heart thumping. He hates this feeling. He hates talking about his past, and he damn well hates having to talk about Liam like this.

He’s got no fucking clue why he’s talking about it with Emma, but she called right after the meeting and he spilled his guts out of frustration.

“I never met your brother,” Emma says so quietly he can barely hear her, “but if he was anything like mine, I can guarantee that he’d be proud of you for getting through it and continuing to move forward. Life sucks, Jones, and we all deal with those sucky moments in different ways. I, for one, eat massive amounts of icing and candy. I have an entire stash in a drawer in my bathroom so David can’t find it and scold me for it.”

Killian huffs and reaches up to yank his shirt off before falling back on the bed. He tugs on his hair before blowing it off his cheek. He needs a haircut.

“You keep icing in your bathroom? That seems unsanitary.”

“I promise it’s very secure.”

Killian hums and more silence falls between them. He doesn’t feel the need to fill it, but he does anyway. “I live alone, so I think I may not need to hide my icing stash. I’d have to get one first.”

“Cream cheese is the way to go. It’s, like, two dollars and all the calories are so worth it.”

“Have you ever considered making it at home?”

“I would give myself food poisoning. I can’t really cook.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. Never learned how to do anything past the basics, and I’m not home enough to try. When I do, Mary Margaret always takes over so I don’t get food poisoning.”

“Where are we together next? Rome?”

“Madrid,” Emma sighs, and he hears a dog bark in the background. He’s sure she doesn’t have a dog, but maybe someone she’s with has one. Or she’s walking around her neighborhood. He never did ask what she was doing. Instead, he immediately started bitching about his sponsor meeting, and then they ended up here. Most of their conversations veer off track, so it’s nothing he isn’t used to. “I get there Monday.”

“I think the same unless I lose early here.”

“You best not. I have money on you.”

“Well, that’s a good way to get yourself suspended.”

Emma laughs, and Killian stretches out on the bed, flexing his feet. “Well, if you don’t tell anyone, I think I’ll be okay.”

“I swear I shall not say a word. Also, Swan, I don’t think we’ll have access to a kitchen in Madrid, but when we get to Rome, I’ll cook you something.”

“If I’m in Rome, I’m not wasting a dinner on your cooking.”

“We can eat two dinners then,” Killian suggests.

“I like that idea.” The dog barks again in the background, louder this time. “I have to go. My neighbor’s dog is walking over this way, and I have to give him my full attention.”

“Bye, love.”

“Talk to you later, Jones!”

The phone goes silent, and Killian closes his eyes. It’s been a rough day for a myriad of reasons, and all he wants is to sleep. His call with Emma has calmed him, as they usually do, but that’s something he often doesn’t like admitting to himself.

Getting involved with Emma would be complicated, and Killian isn’t sure he can do complicated anymore.

His phone buzzes, and he opens one eye to look at the message.

Ariel Fisher: I’m coming to talk to you because you stormed off.

Ariel Fisher: I have the key to your room, so make sure you’re dressed.

Ariel Fisher: I’m bringing dinner, so I know you at least kind of want to see me.

Killian Jones: I’m in the nude, and I’m not changing for you.

Ariel Fisher: It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

Killian Jones: That is your fault for walking into my bathroom without knocking.

-/-

Killian wins in Monte Carlo, and it feels good to have a trophy for the first time since late January. It’s only April now, and he’s only played three tournaments since Australia. Yet, he had higher expectations for himself for this year. It’s a great year by anyone’s standards, but Killian has really focused on his training this year. He wants another record year like two years ago, and if he keeps this momentum going, maybe he can do that.

That year, he’d worked off the motivation of heartbreak. This year, he’s trying to work off the motivation of doing something for himself.

Whatever keeps him in the game.

Whatever keeps him loving what he does like Liam asked him to do.

-/-

The thing about Killian’s job is that he’s constantly surrounded by bloody people. From when he’s playing a match to doing press to sitting in the living room of the houses and apartments he rents for some tournaments when he doesn’t want to stay in a hotel. Sometimes the only times he has to think are when he’s on court, which is ridiculous because that’s when he’s surrounded by the most people and is supposed to be focusing on his plan for the next point.

Tonight, Killian had planned on having Emma over for dinner, but Ariel, Eric, Will, and Rob have all shown up and are sitting on his couch watching the television and he’s desperately trying to get Emma to pick up her phone before she arrives. He’s sure Nemo and Al could show up any second by the way things are going.

“Hello?”

“Swan!”

“Hey, I was just about to get a car from the hotel to your place. Everything okay?”

Killian sighs and massages his fingers over his forehead. “It seems my team and my mates have decided they’re spending the night with me, so if you want to stay at the hotel, I would understand.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Of course, you can still come if you want.”

“Is there still going to be food?”

“Absolutely, but I don’t think I’ll be cooking it.”

“Then I’m coming,” Emma laughs. “Would you mind if I brought some people over as well? I can pay for their dinners.”

“The more the merrier,” Killian says, even if that is not how he intended his night to go. “See you soon, love.”

Killian walks back to the living area and settles down in an armchair, bracing himself for the onslaught of questions he’s about to get. “Emma Swan is coming over for dinner. She’s bringing people with her. I don’t know who yet, but I know she is.”

Slowly, everyone turns and stares at him, and Killian is already dreading everything about tonight.

“Why the fuck is Emma Swan coming over?” Will asks as everyone else nods. “I didn’t even know you knew her.”

“How would I not know her?”

“Oi, you know what I meant! You know her, but you know her in a way that has you say hello in the hallways, not that you invite her and her mates over to take our food.”

“You were not invited here tonight, Scarlet.”

“I am always invited.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ariel sighs, holding her hands up between them. “I need more of an explanation. How did this come about? Are you dating Em – ”

“No, A. Bloody hell, no.” Killian stands from the chair and straightens out his t-shirt. “We got to talking about food one day, and I casually invited her over. Believe it or not, I can have other mates besides you lot.”

“Your personality says otherwise,” Rob teases, and Killian rolls his eyes.

“Alright, alright. What should we get delivered for dinner? A little bit of everything?”

“I still have so many questions,” Ariel tells him.

“I have no more answers. I’m going to order food. You guys can keep watching the match.”

“Isn’t this who you play tomorrow?” Rob asks.

“Mhm, but Nemo will take enough notes and give them to me, so I don’t have to watch the match too closely.”

Killian walks away from the living room and goes through the contacts in his phone for the restaurants he likes, and once he settles on one, he orders several meals for delivery, chatting with the owner and promising her he’ll be in to see the entire team before he leaves Rome.

There’s a knock on the door, and Killian glances out the kitchen window. He can see Emma, Emma’s brother, and her sister-in-law. He was expecting Ruby Lucas and Anna Jergenson, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Her family is nearly always with her.

Ariel gets to the door before he does, hugging and greeting everyone. She knows David and Mary Margaret from constantly working with Mary Margaret over management collaborations, and while this is a large industry, there is always going to be overlap amongst certain people.

“David, nice to see you,” Killian says, walking into the room and taking David’s hand before kissing Mary Margaret’s cheeks. “Mary Margaret, beautiful as ever. Hey, Swan.”

“What? Am I not as beautiful as ever?” she jokes as she embraces him. “I got all dressed up for this. I’m wearing leggings that don’t have any holes in them.”

“I thank you for your effort.” He pulls back and winks. “I’m sorry for the slight change of plans, but I guess I’ll give you food poisoning another day.”

“Can’t wait.”

Killian guides them into the living room, where it’s a mess of greetings and jumbled conversation, and Killian settles himself back in the chair in the corner, watching everyone talk. They’re in the middle of one of the busiest stretches of the season, and it’s nice to have a night where he can relax. He has a match tomorrow and possibly even more depending on how tomorrow goes, but he tries to forget about those. That’s something Killian is still working on. Liam was the one who usually made him forget, and while his mates, many of them under the same pressures, do a damn good job, there are rarely times when his mind doesn’t race with the possibilities of how everything good in his life can slip away.

Killian rents this house in Rome every year because it was Liam’s favorite, so this week is always a particularly difficult one when everything reminds him of his brother.

When the food arrives, Killian spreads it around the kitchen and gets out a few bottles of wine. He won’t drink tonight, but others might want to. They fill their plates and settle back in the living room, the match that was at the forefront now in the background as Rob and Will take the piss out of each other for how badly the mangled the Italian language while asking for directions earlier today.

“I didn’t grow up speaking two languages! I’m still learning!” Will grumbles.

“You trained in Italy for most of your childhood.”

“I have no excuses for Italian, I know. I do speak French pretty well.”

“Oi, and none of us have to wonder why that is,” Rob laughs.

“You’re all wankers.”

“Why does Will know French?” Emma asks him from her seat next to him.

“His girlfriend is from France.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs, picking up a piece of ravioli and putting it in her mouth. “This is delicious. Much better than whatever it was you were planning on cooking.”

“I’m going to prove you wrong one day.”

She shrugs and puts her plate down on the coffee table next to her glass of wine. “If you say so. Where’s the restroom?”

Killian points to the hallway behind the kitchen. “Second door on the right.”

Emma nods and stands from her seat, walking away toward the bathroom. He gets a notification on his watch that he’s got a text from Nemo, and it looks like a long one. Sighing, Killian moves away from the conversation and down the hall to his bedroom so he can text Nemo back. It’s an analysis of his opponent for tomorrow, and Killian skims through it. He’ll read it more in the morning since his match isn’t until the afternoon, but if he doesn’t text Nemo back now, he’ll call until Killian does. The man is a damn good coach, but he can also be high-strung.

The bedroom door clicks behind Killian as he closes it, and at the same time, Emma leaves the bathroom. The two of them are nearly pressed together in the close quarters of the hallway, and Killian aligns himself against one wall while Emma does the same with the other. Still, he can feel her foot brush against his, and he is close enough to see the freckles on her face.

Those freckles are what have himself tilting closer, his breath intertwining with hers, and for every movement he makes, Emma makes an equal one, the voices in the background fading away as Killian focuses on the flutter of Emma’s lashes and the subtle twitch of her lips. He mirrors her, curling up one corner of his mouth and teasingly tapping his lips.

“Please,” she laughs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Emma studies him as heat swirls around them and tickles up his spine, pulling him closer to her. He watches her, waiting to see if she’ll do something, but he expects her to make a joke, to turn away like she sometimes does when things get a little too serious between them when they’re talking in person instead of over the phone. She doesn’t always do that, not when he’s the one sharing, but when it comes to her, she’s more guarded, holding everything deep within.

Emma Swan is constantly subverting expectations, however, so when she pulls on the collar of his shirt and tugs his mouth to hers, he takes a moment to reciprocate.

Bloody fucking hell.

Emma is kissing him.

And she’s damn good at it too. Killian reaches up to thread his fingers through her hair, pulling and tugging until he can take a little of the control back from her. She’s a demanding one, and while he can’t say he minds, he would like a little control too. Her lips are soft, and she tastes of wine and the spices of her ravioli. He could get lost in it all, especially when she moans in response to him backing her up against the wall. Her back arches, and Killian rolls his hips as Emma’s kiss teases him. The friction is fucking amazing, and it would be so easy to take a few steps to the right to his bedroom and…

Suddenly, Emma pulls back, lingering in his space, breath hot against his skin, and Killian can feel a smile tugging at his kiss swollen lips.

“That was – ” Killian mutters, leaning in to kiss her again.

“A one-time thing,” Emma quickly tells him, shoving at his chest until he backs away, a mountain of space between them. “I’m going to go back to the living room. Actually, I think I need to go home. I have an early training session tomorrow.”

“Swan – ”

“Thank you for dinner. It was great.”

Then she’s gone, blonde hair falling away, and Killian can’t move from his spot, standing there with his fingers against his lips. He listens to her tell David and Mary Margaret she’s ready to go, listens to her telling everyone goodbye, and then she’s gone, the front door shutting behind her.

What the hell just happened.

And when did he fall halfway in love with Emma Swan?

Fuck.

“What happened to your hair?” Ariel asks when Killian gets the strength in his legs to walk back to the living room.

“Nemo,” he lies. “His analysis for tomorrow had me tugging on it.”

Ariel studies him like she doesn’t believe him, but then she’s back to drinking her wine and talking to Eric, her life going on as normal even when his isn’t.

-/-

He gets blown out of the water in his match the next day.

He can’t compartmentalize his thoughts, putting the personal behind him and the professional in front of him. That’s been the key to all of his success. No matter what’s going on in his personal life, he can always lace up his trainers and take the court, leaving all of that behind him.

Today, it’s like everything that’s happened to him in the past decade has come flooding back, and Killian wants nothing more than the floodgates to stop.

-/-

Emma doesn’t respond to any of his texts.

He pretends it doesn’t bother him as his team leaves Rome and flies to Paris, immediately preparing for Roland Garros. Killian can fuck around at other tournaments on occasion, but he can’t do it at a major. There are only a handful of those to go around, the importance of them will never be lost on him.

Even if sliding across the clay is the last thing he wants to do right now.

“Smaller steps,” Nemo yells from his place on the sidelines. “You’re going to fuck up your ankle if you run like that.”

Killian adjusts his footwork and keeps moving, sweat slicking down his back as the crowds around the practice courts fill in while more players keep showing up. When he sees long blonde hair in her trademark braid three courts over, his step nearly falters.

It doesn’t.

He can’t.

If Emma is going to put distance between the two of them, he’ll let her. He had a life long before he began talking to Emma Swan, and he’ll have one if she never talks to him again.

He’s a liar if he says that his world would be anything other than miserable for awhile.

-/-

Killian crashes out in the quarterfinals of Roland Garros, and he immediately puts it behind him, bracing his shoulders for a month of grass court tournaments in his own country, where the pressure is always highest.

Sometimes it can be suffocating, but he has to do it.

-/-

“Okay, now that you’ve answered all of our questions, we want to show you a little video clip,” Chris McKendry tells him while Killian adjusts the mic resting on his ear.

“It’s never good when you tell me that, Chris.”

She laughs, as fake as always, but Killian goes along with it. “I promise you’ll enjoy this one.”

A producer for ESPN hits play on the video, and Killian keeps his eyes glued to the screen even as someone slides several bowls of strawberries and cream in front of him. The video of he and Emma from California plays on the screen, all of the promotional work the two of them did that day after she took the piss out of him for his answer to how he ate strawberries and cream. Killian forces a smile on his face, not allowing the cameras to see him slip, because this is what he does now. He’s a perfectly polished PR machine. If he’s going to show emotions other than happiness, they’re going to be either on the court or behind the scenes with no cameras rolling. They are certainly not going to be here.

“So, Killian,” Chris laughs as the video rolls, “we thought it would be fun to bring you some strawberries and cream with a spoon to eat them.”

Killian chuckles and takes the spoon, scooping up a large helping of the strawberries and cream and eating it. It’s not bad. He doesn’t like it, but it’s not the worst thing he’s ever had to eat because someone has asked him to. And the faster he plays along, the faster he can get out of here.

“I think I’ve got it right now,” he jokes, “though I know my last answer went viral because I failed all of Britain with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but we are giving you this chance to redeem yourself so you can have this crowd behind you for the fortnight. With your draw, I think you might need it.”

“Draws don’t always hold up, but nevertheless Chris, I’m ready for the challenge.”

“You always are.”

-/-

She’s fucking incredible to watch.

She moves with grace but with incredible power underneath her feet and determination set between her brows. Her play gets better with every match she plays, and Killian is mesmerized by it even if he’s been avoiding her matches over the past few weeks. But now she’s on Centre Court, and her match is playing on the screen above his bike where he’s cooling down from his match. There is no avoiding it, and he can’t say he wants to at the minute. He’s obviously a glutton for punishment.

He’s seen her draw, knows that it’s just as difficult as his, and while she might not win here, the Olympics are just around the corner on these same courts. He can’t imagine her not winning at least one of the two.

Then again, he is aware of his bias, but he is also aware of Emma’s skill.

Killian grabs his phone and takes a picture of her match, posting it on his Twitter, which Ariel has told him he has to use more since he “needs to interact with people online.”

@KillianJones: She’s graceful like a swan but also just as vicious. What a match to watch on my cool down. @Emmaswan is the type of player every kid should try to emulate when they pick up a racket

It’s an olive branch.

If she doesn’t take it, Killian will be fine. He may have fallen hard and fast, but that doesn’t mean Emma did. She is free to take things at her own pace, whatever that may mean for the two of them.

-/-

@emmaswan mentioned you in a tweet.

Killian swipes across his screen and opens Twitter, where he sees a picture of yesterday’s match. It’s from high above in what is obviously a private room, but it’s still clearly him on court, pumping his fist after a big point, the crowd standing all around.

@EmmaSwan: @KillianJones, I don’t think any of these people like you. You should try to get them on your side.

He laughs and falls back on his couch. He’s not well liked in a lot of places, but in his home country, he knows that as long as he’s winning, he has the country behind him.

No pressure.

@KillianJones: @EmmaSwan maybe you could help me out. How do I get the crowd to like me?

@EmmaSwan: @KillianJones cook them a home-cooked meal. It’s the way to everyone’s heart.

Killian nearly drops his phone. She’s joking. She has to be. This is the first time he’s so much as talked to Emma in weeks, and she either doesn’t realize the magnitude of her words or is sending him a clear message.

Emma has never cared much for subtly.

He closes out of Twitter and texts her, hoping he’s not fucking up the olive branch she took by snapping it in half.

Killian Jones: I’m making salmon tonight. It’s just me here tonight. I promise. Do you want to come over for dinner?

Emma Swan: How good is your salmon?

Killian Jones: It’s good.

Emma Swan: I’ll be there.

-/-

Emma Swan walks into his home like she belongs there. She steps inside his front door, removes her trainers, and easily walks to him in the kitchen, propping her hip against the counter while he prepares dinner. They talk, mostly about work, and Killian tries to act as unaffected by her presence as possible. The last time they were this close to each other, he had Emma pressed up against a wall. It’s been over a month since then with very little communication, and Killian constantly feels like a bucket of ice has been dropped over him.

He still doesn’t believe she’s here when he is clearly having a conversation with her.

They eat dinner on his couch, the television turned low in the background, and the conversation stays stilted. If Killian is honest, he wants to sink into the cushions and have this night be over with, but he knows better. Either this night firmly cuts the ties between them, or it ties the string back together.

He knows which one he wants, but he dare not speak for Emma.

“This is really good,” Emma says as she scoops up some of her remaining salad. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

“It’s a really nice place. I bet it must be nice to be able to stay home for a month while still working.”

“Yeah, it is.” Silence falls between them again, but it’s not comfortable, not like it used to be. “Look, Swan, I – ”

She holds up her hands and places the plate in front of her on his coffee table before twisting around and crossing her legs under her on the couch. “Don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t say it. Don’t apologize for doing something wrong when I’m the one who made out with you and then ran away. I fucked things up between us, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Do you want to fix it?” he suggests, knowing the line he walks is thin.

Emma shrugs, sheepish smile on her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t – I mean, I like…you’re…we’re…I don’t know, Killian. I am obviously not the most emotionally aware person, but I care. I care about my family, my friends…you. I care about you. Like, a lot, which was unexpected.” She leans forward and buries her face in her hands, all of her words coming out muffled. “I don’t know how I can do this without messing things up between us where we’ll be avoiding each other while having to walk the same circles.”

Killian arches his brow and stifles his laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing. This isn’t funny, but there is something comical about it.

“What I’m hearing is that you fancy me.”

Emma peeks out from behind her hands, and she glowers at him. “Seriously?”

Killian shrugs and leans forward, grabbing her hands and slowly intertwining their fingers. “I have no bloody idea what I’m doing either, and I don’t mean to upset you Emma. I really don’t. But we make quite the team. I think it would be foolish not to try, but I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That’s really fucking unfair to make me make the decision.”

“If I did, you would find a way to turn it around on me.”

She digs her nails into his palm, but he doesn’t flinch. “Asshole.”

“I would agree with that assessment most of the time.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but there’s also determination there, green, blue, and gold all mixed together to create the emotions hidden just below the surface. “We don’t tell anyone. Like, no one. I don’t like my private life to be public, and if we tell other people, it’ll become public. I’m already risking a hell of a lot possibly being with someone who I’ll have to see on tour if things get fucked up, so I want a safety net even if this doesn’t solve every issue.”

“You’re a romantic.” She parts her lips to protest, and he squeezes her hands, leaning forward and lingering in her space, closing half the gap. “But I agree with you, wholeheartedly. I was with this woman, and – ”

“We don’t have to talk about our pasts right now. I’ve got a match at one tomorrow, so we sure as hell don’t have time to get through everything. I’m also not entirely sure I trust you with everything yet.”

“You shouldn’t,” Killian half jokes as his lips ghost over hers, “but I hope to earn it.”

“Good,” Emma whispers, wrapping her arms around Killian’s neck and pulling him those final few inches toward her until her lips are softly gliding over his, pulling him under as pleasure trickles up his spine.

Good. This is all damn good.

They have no idea what they’re getting into, but Killian can’t wait to figure it all out.

-/-

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#walking the baseline #walking the baseline series #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #Captain Swan

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sparklingpax · 3 years

Text

What It Costs

Love is sweet, love is loyalty, love is unwavering, love is....sacrifice. Sometimes, one does not remember the last part until it is simply....too late.

///

A/N:

-Angst. This is angst. If some of y’all don’t like that stuff and/or are bothered by it, click off or scroll by, please. Thanks.

-Hhhhh speaking of that, I’ll have you know I’m terrible at this kind of writing. I gave it my all, however. I hope I did passably, at least...^^’’

-Um......I am very sorry if I made any errors, be it a typo or misinformation about something/someone, etc. I wrote a lot of this very late at night or at ungodly hours of the morning.....so that might explain a little of it ^~^’’ I’ll read through it as many times as possible after posting so I can catch and fix as many of those mistakes as possible....

-I’ll make this quick; sorry again to anyone who saw this the first time ^^’’ But this time, I’ve posted it intentionally so I hope you enjoy!! :’D

-This is only one, long part so dw about cliffhangers or waiting 10 centuries a long time for me to finish it :3

-Set in the TFP universe! And obviously, my attempt at some official OptiRatch content! :)

The sky was a dull, bleak grey.

Icy rain pelted the earth, pouring from the stormy skies with a vengeance as harsh winds tossed them around with an ominous whistling.

Yet the real storm had materialized inside the rocks—in the simple silo base where the Autobots resided.

Today, the children had not been able to come to the base.

Miko was in detention, Jack was busy working overtime at his job, and Raf was studying for a exam.

It was just one of those days.

“Thank Primus for peace and quiet!” Ratchet would have remarked as he usually did on days such as this.

However, things were all but calm—even as a prickly silence filled the air.

///

“I…I cannot let you do that…” Optimus stammered at last. He bowed his head and shifted his gaze to the left, clearly uncomfortable. “It is only a mere relic, not worth the life—”

A fist pounded the wall, leaving a blackened scuff mark in the metal.

“DON’T YOU CARE?!” Ratchet practically screamed. Optimus’s eyes rounded with guilt as he turned his gaze back to the medic sharply.

“Of course I—”

“Then GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD, OPTIMUS—” he hit the wall next to him once again, with more force. “It’s not about you!!!”

He spat those words so coldly, so jarringly sharp, Optimus felt his spark twist.

Old friend…I do not think you understand my intent at all…please be patient with me…

The Prime opened his mouth to speak, but Ratchet flashed him an even harsher glare, silencing any further words. Optimus again cast his eyes momentarily to the floor.

Pushing past his leader, Ratchet raised his fist, not turning to face Optimus, and flipped up his middle finger.

Optimus would have given an amused laugh.

‘Did one of the children teach you that custom?’ he wanted to ask jokingly, teasingly.

Agent Fowler had done it enough times for Optimus to understand what it meant.

But all he could do was stare after his medic as the older mech stalked over to the groundbridge controls. All kinds of alarms were going off in Optimus’s head, and yet all he could do was…watch.

Perhaps he could take no more of Ratchet’s harsh attitude—the anger that emanated off his old friend.

Perhaps he really wasn’t making the right decision, but Ratchet was.

Or perhaps…

You’re a coward, Optimus. A big, strong, coward.

“I’ll find the relic myself,” Ratchet announced to the other bots. Up until then, they had, unmoving and tense, watched the argument which had preceded all this.

Don’t go, my Starlight…or at least…let me go with you…But the Prime stood immobile, watching the old bot speak.

“I’ll find it myself and win us the war,” he repeated, still trembling with rage from minutes before. He turned that sharply angered expression—now laced with disdain—at the Autobot leader. “And I don’t need any backup.”

A swirling portal of green, white, and purple roared to life when the medic shoved the lever downwards, his expression only grim now. Without saying anymore, he then turned and transformed. An ambulance raced through the portal and disappeared seconds later.

While the Prime lingered absentmindedly near the bridge, eyes focusing on no one thing as he stared around, deep in thought, Bumblebee carefully padded over and pulled the lever up. The swishing, humming noise quickly faded as the groundbridge portal did, and silence rested over them once again.

Except that silence was still not peaceful.

Optimus soon found himself speaking, not really thinking as he did.

“Woah—you sure, Optimus?” Bulkhead asked, eyes widened a bit nervously. “I mean, no offense but…Ratchet might rip you to shreds…”

‘He looked pretty mad,’ Bumblebee agreed quietly.

“If something were to happen to him, it would be my fault,” Optimus found himself saying. “For that reason, please reopen the groundbridge.”

You scared of the blame, Optimus?

You don’t want to be incriminated?

Are you making this about you?

Do you really care?

Optimus didn’t want to shake those questions away just yet. He was unsure of their answers. The Prime wished his mind was where his body was, yet as he transformed and drove through the bridge, his thoughts continued to wander.

They taunted him, echoing his medic’s scornful words.

Why don’t you go after the relic, the one thing that could save us? Who cares if Megatron is there with all his troops? What makes that different from any other of your confrontation with him?

A heavy feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach—a foreboding sense.

Often—they say—if your loved one is in danger, you can feel it.

Optimus pushed harder on the gas, thinking only of what was going to take place if he did not reach his friend quickly enough.

The day was dark, cold, and rainy.

///

Ratchet pressed his back against the side of a tall rock, not daring to peer again at the action taking place in the center of the clearing. He heard the footsteps of some vehicons heading his way. They drew their guns as they got closer.

Above him, the dead-looking gray skies has stilled, leaving the air feeling taut—like it was holding its breath and ready snap any second.

The storm from Jasper must be close by, considering I bridge to—

Ratchet gritted his teeth and snapped himself back to focusing on the current situation.

The medic felt his spark racing. His arms began to tremor uncontrollably as he drew them upwards to get into a fighting stance.

They saw you. They saw you and it hasn’t been more than 8 minutes you’ve been here. What a successful mission. It’s just you against Megatron and hundreds of vehicons. And—

He glanced down at his leg a little worriedly.

He’d jumped into action a week before and received a blow to the leg he was still healing from. At this very moment, in fact, he felt a faint aching start up again in his knee.

Ratchet let his head fall against the rock, eyes squeezed shut, swallowing hard and drawing out his own blades.

You idiot.

He counted the seconds before attack.

Optimus was right.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! BRING HIM TO ME NOW!!” Megatron’s furiously growled order broke the tense silence.

Instantly the slow footsteps became sets of scrambling feet, quickly heading for the rock. A second later, Ratchet watched (and heard) a shot of crimson red blaster fire whiz past his helm. Instinctively, he let out a cry of shock and stumbled to the side—right out from behind the rock.

Before he could regain his footing to even turn around, the silence exploded into the deafening sound of hundreds of shots aimed for him. The medic turned and faced it, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath as one or two grazed his plating.

He charged, strangely feeling almost a little….detached from his own body. Like he was on autopilot.

“For Cybertron!!!” He heard a voice shout.

What….am I doing here?

“FOR VICTORY!!!”

Oh…it was his voice. Right.

The orange-white-plated mech swerved past the blaster fire, swinging his arms—now blades—back, forth, up, down….

Optimus, forgive me. I was a fool. I was a prideful fool.

He ducked a shot and kicked out, catching the vehicon by surprise and knocking him off his feet. Almost one motion, the old bot maintained his momentum and swung his blades at an oncoming opponent.

The con dodged smoothly. He raised his gun and fired.

Just as Ratchet thought to spring in the other direction, his knee gave out beneath him. Ratchet tripped over himself, grabbing his knee.

Right in the path of the vehicon’s shot.

A shot ripped through his shoulder, followed by another closer to his neck, tearing from the medic such an ugly, guttural cry that even the vehicon flinched. The medic crumpled to the floor in a writhing heap of short, agonized exclamations.

Meanwhile, the vehicon’s gun wavered a bit, drawing back a second. Ratchet’s pained noises faded from the air of the clearing, replaced only by the sound of his tremoring breath. Clearly struggling, the medic reached over and clasped his shoulder so hard his digits shook. A small flow of energon began to leak through, soiling his servos and the dirt surrounding his figure. Turning his face to the con, he let his eyes show off his anger.

In a smaller, quavering voice, he managed to say, “C-coward…hold y-your…w-w-weapon….straight why don’t you—” He spat out, wheezing a bit, then falling limp into the ground. Not unconscious, but simply out of strength.

Or…will to live.

The Vehicon shook its head and held the gun firmly upwards again. The weapon was trained directly on Ratchet’s helm.

Just at that moment, the skies snapped.

A bellowing rumble of thunder sounded, the clouds suddenly looking bigger, darker, greyer….

It’s pointless…we’ll just lose, won’t we? Like we always do. Megatron will have his way today, and he’ll have his way until he kills all of us and ends this fragging war….

Ratchet looked up, hearing a low, gravelly cackle.

Speak of the devil and he doth appear—is that not the phrase?

The medic let out a little moan, rolling over onto his side, still clasping a hand to his bleeding wound. His gaze, sharp with pain and yet dull with exhaustion, stared ahead to see the vehicon back away twitchily.

Megatron’s footsteps shook the ground a little as he stalked in Ratchet’s direction. The huge figure of the ex-gladiator soon towered over Ratchet. He smirked a little, slowly folding his hands behind his back and tilting his head.

“Ratchet….” he paused to chuckle. “Tell me, what ever did you think you were going to accomplish?”

“T….the relic—” he hissed tightly, breaking off abruptly to suppress a noise of pain as his shoulder burned with pain under his grip. His optics, trained on Megatron’s sneering face, spoke more than a thousand words of hate and fire.

Megatron laughed out loud.

“Oh, you must mean—” he turned and make a rough motion at the vehicons behind him. The one holding the escape pod immediately scurried across the clearing to them. “This trinket?” He asked, grabbing the object from his soldier.

The pod hadn’t been opened yet.

The pod hasn’t been opened yet. The weapon is still inside.

Ratchet let his mind fixate on that one thought.

There is time still….if I can just…..

Megatron started one of his small monologues, something Ratchet wasn’t listening to. He switched on his comm link as discreetly as he could. Pride was not of importance now, Ratchet told himself.

Optimus had been right, and he knew it. It would be entirely foolish not to try to—

“Ratchet?”

Megatron instantly stopped dead in his tracks. His head whipped around as he processed the voice. His eyes darkened when he registered.

“I see.” Was all he growled in a chillingly quiet voice.

“Ratchet, what is going—”

The medic fumbled to switch it off again, internally kicking himself for so stupid a plan. Of course his idiot sparkmate would call out to him the instant his switched on his comm lines again!

He meant well, Ratchet. He loves you. He cares about you. Keep that in mind.

Ratchet let out a grunt of both pain and frustration.

Optimus, hurry! There isn’t anymore time!

Ratchet watched as Megatron dropped to his level and grabbed his chin. Mustering all his confidence, the medic stared with an unwavering gaze right back.

“You’re a fool, Autobot. Much more foolish than I remember you being,” he snarled.

Ratchet narrowed his eyes and fired back, “Not as much of a fool as you—and unlike you, I’m not a pile of—”

“SILENCE!!!!!!!”

Megatron’s roared command silenced the medic instantly. Ratchet was not afraid, just startled. Around him, all the vehicons nearby had flinched and taken steps back—even though they were as far away as they were. The Decepticon leader gave another growl, indignant and angered at his prisoner’s insolence.

He released Ratchet, cursing under his breath.

Now the Prime is coming. I can’t just leave.

The huge figure of Megatron paced around, his grey metal looking oddly shinier in the greyish lighting the skies were providing. He was formulating a course of action.

A plan.

His eyes lit up and he straightened again, looking once more as if he was in control.

Just at that moment, a terrible rumble that Ratchet felt all through his body sounded in the air.

The storm had arrived, and the great roll of thunder was its announcer.

Megatron looked around casually, then back at Ratchet. There was a dry amusement dancing in his optics.

“Today shall be the day another one of you dies,” he spoke with a terrifying finality.

The medic’s spark skipped a beat. He felt a cold fear run through his veins, and sit at the bottom of his stomach—like a rock. Yet it was not fear for his own life.

“How can you be so certain?” Ratchet fought to keep his tone level—steady.

Blinding white flashed through the air, accompanied by a tearing, cracking sound that rang in everyone’s audio receptors. However Megatron stood, and had not flinched. His eyes held a dangerous light of unbending desire.

“One of you will die by my hand,” Megatron repeated himself, turning away. “For it is as I will.”

Then, the ex-gladiator stalked back across the clearing. Vehicons immediately scurried to form a circle around Ratchet, two of them coming even closer to guard him, guns drawn and ready to fire.

Softly, gently, unrelentingly, drops of moisture began to fall from the sky.

Rain.

Ratchet closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the odd sensation of those thousands of drops of liquid created when they repeatedly hit his plating.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Ratchet let his head fall into his hands.

Optimus….my sweetspark…..forgive me…

He jolted as a vehicon reached over and slapped his helm harshly.

“Up.” He snapped, holding up stasis cuffs.

Ratchet sincerely hoped, with all his spark, that he would be the one.

///

“Ratchet? Please respond, Ratchet.” Optimus repeated himself once again, speeding down the empty road in alt-mode. He finally rolled to a halt, transforming and taking a look around.

Dark clouds poured rain, the rising winds causing the little droplets to mercilessly pelt his plating from all sides.

“Old Friend,” he tried his comm for what felt like the hundredth time. “Sweetspark, respond.”

Urgency laced his tone, concern burning clearly in his gaze.

Please, my love. Something happened, I am sure of it. But….what?

Static sounded in his audio receptors until, with a sigh, the Autobot leader switched his link off again.

I must find him on my own, then—

He perked up suddenly, hearing a faint noise of….blaster fire?

A cold, sick feeling twisted in his stomach. Dread weighed heavily on his chest.

Hang on, my Starlight….!

Without a second to spare, driving as if a fire chased his tailpipes, Optimus pushed his engines to the max. He sped closer, feeling that dread and despair sink further into him as he could more clearly make out the sounds of a fight.

All he wanted was for Ratchet to be okay.

All he wanted was for Ratchet to come home.

Maybe he was selfish for not wanting to attempt to steal that relic, but Optimus knew that he couldn’t go on if anything happened to his teammates over some weapon. The war was not worth anyone’s life.

If he could save yet just one more, he’d take that option first.

You will come home alive. No matter the cost. I will not fail you, old friend.

He pushed the brakes and skidded to a halt, catching sight of the commotion. There was a space between two towering canyons below his road. In that rocky clearing, Optimus saw an orange-white-plated mech darting from left to right, fending off as many of the oncoming vehicons as he could. Sure enough, Megatron was also there. At present, he simply stood by, watching.

Enough was enough. Ratchet needed help.

Optimus transformed and gripped the side of the mountain he’d been driving up, vaulting off the top and landing with a huge ‘THUMP!!’ on the road below.

He cared not for the huge crater that now lay in the road.

Optimus ran as fast as he could, drawing out both his guns and firing as soon as he was in range of the fight.

“STEP AWAY FROM RATCHET!!!” Optimus commanded, nailing two vehicon soldiers with two shots as he continued to cross the distance of the clearing. Some of them scrambled back, many others turned their fire on the Prime, charging at him with a strange confidence.

Optimus felt his blood boiling. The rain seemed to intensify as another bolt of lightning ripped through the sky with great ferocity. Almost like it had hit Optimus himself, he put away his guns and drew his swords, feeling electrified—powerful.

I am not afraid of you, Megatron. Nor of your legions of breakable troops which you care nothing for.

He saw the warlord, standing far across the clearing, arms folded.

“FACE ME, MEGATRON!!!!”

And with a powerful war cry, Optimus bolted forward, swords drawn. Vehicons poured in from all sides, shooting at him and trying to throw themselves in the Prime’s way.

He didn’t notice pain from shots that ripped through his armor, the blows that landed on his chest—before he grabbed his attackers and dismantled them one by one.

The Prime had but one target.

Optimus wanted Megatron, and he wanted the end of this selfish, futile war.

///

Megatron inspected the pod, wondering if he should open it now or wait until—

“Step away from Ratchet!!!” He heard the enraged command from across the clearing. Before his eyes met the scene, Megatron already knew who it was. He grinned, baring his teeth with excitement.

Ah, yes, Optimus. That’s right. Come closer. Let me finish you once and for all…

With an unchecked level of anger, he yelled for Megatron to face him, tossing away the corpse of yet another dead vehicon as he spoke. The Decepticon warlord stood, unmoving, gazing with a taunting amusement in his eyes as he watched Optimus fight his way through the vehicons, tearing them apart as they would approach him.

At last, no one dared to approach the Prime. The rest of the vehicons there had either fled or threw themselves behind rocks to hide. Optimus stood for a second, panting, energon spattered all over his body and swords. He looked around to find Ratchet passed out in a heap, far to Megatron’s right. No vehicons stood guard.

Of course, with Megatron there, guards were not a necessity.

You’re a fool, too, Optimus. You all are.

Thunder rumbled, louder than before.

“So, you’ve come to rescue your lapdog, have you?” Megatron asked, sneering through every word he said. Optimus seemed to vibrate with anger. He didn’t respond, eyes a sparking electric blue behind his battlemask.

“You can take him, Optimus,” as the Prime twitched to move, Megatron held up his arm—the one with the fusion canon—and added, “For a price.”

Optimus looked ready to rip his head off.

He had clearly seen Ratchet’s wounds, and the new ones from a….punishment. Minutes after the medic had tried to escape, Optimus had arrived.

It was almost like they were going to succeed!

However, the large grey-purple mech had also made absolutely sure Ratchet would not escape, no matter what.

Megatron thought he’d feed his ‘old friend’s’ anger.

Or perhaps…his guilt.

“While you were busy tearing vehicons to shreds, Ratchet was able to be successfully contained. We had to rough him up a little, as a result of his foolish actions…..but he’ll live…for now.”

He gave a little chuckle as Optimus made a quiet exclamation.

“You might have succeeded had you kept yourself focused on getting your friend out of here, Optimus!”

“You will let him go.” He growled, taking a fighting stance.

“Make me.”

“Very well then,” The Prime drew his sword and started towards Megatron. “I shall.”

Megatron dropped his canon. “Or…listen to my offer.”

Optimus stopped, dropping his arms a bit.

“Speak.” He let his gaze burn with a terrifying electricity. “Quickly.”

Megatron was of course, not even slightly fazed. “My terms are simple,” he paused to make a gesture to the clearing in which they stood. “Fight me now, unarmed. If you win, I’ll let you and the medic here return to your base. No one will harm you as you leave.”

It was a simple proposition.

It was a simple goal.

Ratchet would be safe.

You could fail…Optimus, you could fail and get Ratchet killed…

The rain poured from the skies ever harder, a storm unrelenting and harsh.

Megatron took a few steps until he stood right in front of Optimus.

The third stroke of lightning lit up the skies, flashing in the reflection of Optimus’s blue optics. Megatron grinned, tilting his head. He reached out his hand.

“So?”

Without a single hesitation, Optimus took it.

///

A cold, familiar ache in his shoulder.

Burning sensations of pain from fresh cuts and dents in his body.

Merciless rain battering his plating.

Ominous, loud whistles of wind sounding in his audio receptors.

Ratchet’s optics snapped open when he heard the resounding clang of metal on metal.

“IT IS FUTILE, PRIME—GIVE IT UP!!!”

“NEVER!!”

“MAYBE I SHOULD KILL BOTH OF YOU!!”

There was another sound of impact, punctuated with a short cry of pain. The voice was Optimus’s.

The medic sat up, looking around briefly to see that any remaining vehicons who hadn’t yet traveled back to the warship—hovering a short distance away—were cramming themselves behind rocks, flattening themselves to a corner. Others were presently trying to escape the scene.

Clearly, they wanted no part in any of this dispute.

But I do.

Ratchet hoisted himself up despite the way his wounds stung.

I must.

He watched Optimus and Megatron for a few moments. Neither one seemed to be using their weapons—it was simple combat.

Except there was energon splattered around the grounds where they fought.

Who said swords and guns were the only things that could kill?

“Well, then,” Megatron laughed a chilling, malicious laugh. “Do you surrender yet, Optimus?” He bent down and thrust his face into Optimus’s, while the Prime struggled to get up. Optimus retracted his battlemask, gritting his teeth with anger and in an attempt to stifle pained grunts of effort.

Energon stained the side of his face, dripping steadily from his mouth. He flinched back from the warlord and pushed himself to his feet, taking a fighting stance again.

Ratchet stood, mesmerized.

The sight that lay before him was nearly poetic, in a strange way.

Not the “good” kind of strange.

Rain poured from the heavens, the air was cold, and the winds raced noisily about. Smokey breath billowed from Optimus’s mouth as he panted, looking ragged and angry. His gaze fixated on Megatron.

“This ends today, you lunatic—” he forced out, gripping one of his newer wounds gently. “Even…even if it kills me….”

Megatron grinned. “Oh, it will,” he said slowly, deviously, not moving an inch as Optimus began to circle him. They eyed one another, anticipation hanging in the air as one silently dared the other to make the first move.

I will be the victor today, Optimus, and then I shall win this war!

Time seemed to slow, and suddenly Optimus couldn’t move—yet nothing held his limbs in place.

Instead, his eyes were trained on Megatron as the warlord had suddenly turned.

He chuckled lightly and aimed his fusion canon at Ratchet, who was standing frozen, watching them.

The medic seemed to snap out of his trance and flinched, taking a step back defensively. Optimus felt a new rage form in him. Something unseen tore another war cry from the Prime and he charged at an almost desperate-looking pace.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!”

He threw himself at Megatron, knocking the huge mech to the ground. Megatron gave a short cry of surprise, then immediately locked his jaw, biting down on his tongue. Optimus’s eyes burned with such a ferocity that the ex-gladiator had not seen—not for a long time.

Not since he last fought a wild beast in the arena of Kaon.

Never from the soft eyes of Optimus.

“YOU….KILLED THEM,” Optimus snarled, pinning Megatron to the dirt. Rain pelted down, bouncing limply off Optimus’s frame. He glowered over Megatron, seething at him. “YOU DID ALL THIS, YOU MONSTER!!!”

Megatron looked surprised only for a moment, then narrowed his eyes belligerently.

He could only grin. A sick, twisted grin that said, ‘I don’t care.’

Limbs burning with exhaustion, Optimus began to pummel Megatron. He swung side to side, pounding his opponent with all he had. Wordless cries of anger poured from him as he punched…harder, harder….

“Optimus!”

His servos began to tear and feel numb. Streaks of faded blue and purple stained his plating.

“OPTIMUS!!!”

Distantly, a voice registered in his ears. What was it trying to say?

“OPTIMUS, WAIT!!”

All the Prime could see was a blaring, bright red. Steady clanging of metal on metal against the static rain sounded loudly in his optics.

“ORION, PLEASE!!! LISTEN TO ME—”

Optimus felt as if an electric shock had been passed through him. Hearing his name, he froze, panting, trembling, blood roaring in his head. Beneath him, he could feel Megatron tremoring. Yet the silver-purple mech still bore that scrap-eating grin.

He knew something.

Something he won’t tell me, the Autobot leader thought, feeling some of his frustration return. He glanced up again at Ratchet, who was still backing away. The air around them began to vibrate, waves of hot air joining with and drowning out the blustering, icy, rainy wind.

Something was definitely wrong.

Optimus narrowed his optics and raised a readied fist above Megatron’s face.

“What are you not telling me, Megatron?” Optimus gripped his rival by the neck. Nothing but a feeble-sounding laugh met his words. The red optics staring back at him squinted with fatigue and fell shut.

Optimus knew Megatron was still awake.

“I’m more than finished with all your little mind games, this war, your treacheries,” he spat. “What else are you trying to take from us all now?!” His voice rose with every word as Optimus began to work himself up again. Centuries of anger and sadness began to pile on his spark.

Waves of warm, stifling air drew closer. A reverberating hum sounded in Optimus’ skull. Something like….a ship.

All the same, sound faded out around him as he zeroed in on Megatron.

Finally, he was at his fingertips—his mercy. Finally, Optimus thought, he could bring a final peace to—

“You lose,” Megatron sneered, a new fire lighting his optics. Beneath him, the Decepticon leader tensed and felt as if he was about to make a move. Optimus gritted his teeth and held steady, tightening his grip on Megatron’s throat.

“OPTIMUS, YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!”

Ratchet sounded on the verge of tears, practically shrieking at his partner.

He realized in an instant what exactly Megatron had meant before.

///

Every wound made itself known, throbbing with pain. Megatron could barely move.

Yet victory buzzed through every cell in his body, giving him just enough strength to carry out the last step to complete his grand plan to end it all.

Farewell, Orion. Ironic that it was your uncontrolled emotions that led to your downfall.

Optimus, fist raised, opened his mouth to ask again. Megatron suddenly let loose a surge of strength, pushing up and thrusting his legs under his opponent’s torso and kicking outwards. Optimus’s blue optics widened with shock and he uttered a short cry as he was thrown a few feet across the clearing.

He landed and instantly got to his feet again, activating his battlemask.

The Prime stared for a moment at the odd scene before him.

Megatron stood—albeit shakily—and began to back away, pulling Ratchet with him. No vehicon stragglers were in sight, and even more odd…the rain had begun to let up just a little.

Soft rays of sunlight began to show through the clouds. His mind drifting, Optimus turned slowly to gaze up at the clouds. He was met with the huge mass of metal and a blast of air and sound.

It was the Nemesis. A huge canon under the ship readjusted itself with an audible whirring noise.

“NOW, SOUNDWAVE!!”

“OPTIMUS, RUN!!!!!!”

Ratchet….I’m sorry I failed you….

In the time of a split second, the world around Optimus lit up in a brilliant, blaring flash, and a deafening explosion filled the air.

Never before had murder seemed so ethereal.

///

“Ratchet?”

No response.

“Ratchet..?”

Nothing.

“RATCHET!!” Miko tried, her loud voice jolting the medic out of whatever trance he’d been in moments before. He turned slowly from staring at his screen, a dead-looking gaze meeting the children’s.

“Do you…need something, Miko? Rafael?”

“Oh—well, it’s uhm….it’s nothing….I’ll let you get back to work…” Raf mumbled, suddenly sounding nervous as he fumbled to hide the object he’d been holding. Miko rolled her eyes.

“After all the work I did to get his attention!” She followed her friend back to the lounge area. Ratchet watched them, not really processing what they were doing. He then turned back to his task.

What was I doing again?

“Hey, Ratchet,” Bulkhead greeted, coming from the hallway. “How’s your, uh…data surfing going?”

Right.

“Very well. I am nearly finished with three of the four sectors I was to organize today,” Ratchet heard his voice respond.

He looked up to see Bulkhead staring at him, eyes rounded with concern and worry. However the moment he raised his head to see him, he switched his expression to a normal, casual one.

It was fine if he did that, Ratchet thought to himself. Everyone had been doing it for the last two months now, anyway.

“Well…that sounds good! A-anyway, I’m gonna…go for a drive…” he responded, sounding awkward. Ratchet nodded an acknowledgement and turned back around. Feeling guilty, Bulkhead looked as if he wanted to say more.

But he knew better than to bring up what it was they were both still thinking about.

He turned and transformed, then left. Meanwhile, Ratchet tapped at the screen, barely thinking about what he was actually doing.

Some small part of him wished for a warm touch on his shoulder as he was finishing up.

A warm, baritone voice to calmly whisper, “Good work today, my love. Come, rest with me in my quarters.”

It’s not your fault…it’s not your fault….there was nothing you could do!

His mind repeated what the others had gently murmured over and over on that day and every day after.

But it was…

He heard the small voice protest. He clenched his fist and locked his jaw.

It’s not your fault, Ratchet. You didn’t kill him!

The medic felt a lump in his throat. With all his might, he swallowed it, controlling himself.

But I did…I killed him.

“Ratchet?”

Jack. It was Jack’s voice.

Ratchet felt his arm quivering, his gaze and body frozen in one place, as if someone had hit the pause button on him.

“Yes?” Everything felt distant now. He felt his arm drop and his head turn to stare at the small human teenager.

“So…how’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Oh…well, it’s raining cats and dogs out there!” He joked, pointing at his shirt. “I got a little of it..”

“You did?”

“Yep. Might wanna tell Bulkhead to be careful on the roads, right?”

“Right.”

“Right…so, I guess I’ll leave you alone, then…” Jack backed away, saying something to Miko and Raf as he neared the couch and TV.

All of a sudden, Ratchet was aware of how cold his shoulder felt.

///

HNNNN THIS PIECE OF GARBAGE O///O’’ THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AT AA >///< Sorry, I know I’m not good at angst. But I wanted to write this anyway.....

If you like, listening to this for the last 2-3 parts of the story might....set the mood better..? Idk. For me, I heard that recording and instantly felt my heart twist. And had this idea. So.....^^’’ (yes, I know about this piece btw I just like the slowed version because,,,aesthetic,,,,jsjdsjsd)

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely eveing/day/whatever time it is where you are!! <3

Feedback, likes, reblogs, and all that stuff is always welcome!! ^///^

// Kuni out :’3 //

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Irritated 7

A/N This took me way too long imo 6k words bbs, please enjoy. The next part is in the works! Buckle the fuck up after this chapter yall. Please enjoy xoxo

"Katsuki there is no need to knock they'll be out soon!" Kirishima says practically hanging off of a muscled arm.

"Oi shit hair we are gonna be late if we don't start walking now." The hot head snarls.

"Ah but perfection cannot be rushed." Todoriki says as he patiently waits with deadly hands in his pockets.

As if on cue Mina opens the door with a dramatic flair, eyes only for the ruby haired man. As if on a catwalk she sashays to Kirishima, sporting a glitering knee length amethyst dress that compliments her bubble gum pink skin. Followed by Jhiro in a white and black ankle length dress, Uraraka who wears a floor length muave pink and Momo comes out in a stunning blood red with diamonds dripping from her neck like frozen dew.

Denki, Izuku, Kirishima, and Todoroki smile in unison holding out their hands.

The men quickly become a color coordinated accessory to the band of gorgeously dressed women. Donned in all black suits while the color of their ties match each dress perfectly. Deft scarlet eyes notice the pairings quickly as the couples begin to mingle, fighting the blush on his cheeks as he looks over himself. His suit, vest, and even tie are all black and he can only assume that you will come out paired to him. As if it were some sort of symbol or sign that you were destined to be his counterpart.

Even if it is only for tonight.

Panic begins to set in as the couples flirt for longer than a few moments. Fear that you may have slipped out without their knowledge.

"Oi, Mina where is...?" But he never finishes his question as you walk from the room, asking if they have their key before slamming it shut.

"Wow Y/N, you look..." Izuku starts, compliment stuck in his throat before Katsuki finishes it for him.

"Fucking stunning." He growls lowly, drinking you in. The black dress has a plunging V in both the front and back, stopping just at your solar plexus and mid back. A slit runs up the side to mid thigh so that Katsuki, and every other man, is mesmerised with each step.

And no one can miss the giant garnet so deep in hue it could have been a drop of dried blood resting dutifully on your breast bone secured by a golden chain.

Bakugou grits his teeth as you approach him with your normal items, his hands deep in his pockets to keep them off of you.

"Kaachan. If you don't mind." You beam before he snatches the items stowing them away, sure to let his eyes dart away from you. The other couples exchange looks choosing to start making their way towards the exit and soon the dizzying party. Katsuki offers you his arm with a snarl to which you hesitate. Looking at it as if diffusing a bomb before you grab onto his arm, hand clasped tightly around a strong bicep.

××××××××

The party was not small by any means and staring at it from behind a heavy dark curtain did not ease your anxiety over the matter.

What if your entrance was lame?

Fucking lackluster?

Hell you couldn't even THINK of a fucking song let alone pick one out for this idiotic entrance that was thrust upon you.

Still panic rises in your shaking hands as your scroll through your spotify trying to come up with anything worthy of your 10 to 20 second entrance.

"Izuku, you're up first." The man with the clip board further agitates your state, "I've got your songs ready, except Y/LN's. We need to know very soon."

Izuku walks onto the stage with confidence as the chorus of Champion by Fallout boy rings out.

Just as the beat begins to crescendo again he jumps into the air, leg cocked before he unleashes a kick strong enough that a strong wind blows through the building.

Whistling and whipping people's hair stunning them into silence before they erupt into a deafening cheer.

A pit settles in your stomach as you bite your lip with enough force that a coppery taste threatens to invade your mouth, your saved songs and play lists stare back at you with disinterest in your turmoil.

Strong hands slap onto your shoulders before lips are at your ear.

"Its just a song. It's just an intro. Your fans will love whatever the fuck you pick out or do. I promise. You just gotta fucking believe in yourself for once." Katsuki growls contradictory to what his hands convey. He gives a soft squeeze before his song begins to play. Suddenly a song pops into your head and you whisper to the stage hand before you can talk yourself out of it.

The blonde makes his way to the stage mimicking where his pin is on his hero costume as the hyped song echoes over the slightly drunk crowd that screams the lyrics to the rap song. He would pick this song wouldn't he?

It was literally named after him Bakugo! By Kamil.

The song starts out with the iconic sound before transiting to the verse he picked.

The most tame out of all of them and probably the one he was forced to settle with.

"Grenadier bracers on my wrist, I'm about to pull the pin Come at me with all your might or I'ma melt off all your skin Howitzer impact if I'm pissed, Bitch I told you I'ma win Bitch, get back before I blast, I said I'll do it again wit' a grin

Like I'm Bakugo, turn they soul to fuckin smoke Bitch I'm boutta pop, bitch you know I'm boutta blow up Only need these hands I don't need no fuckin pole Once I get a grip, I might blast yo fuckin dome up"

He wears a manic grin as he let's off several large explosions, destroying the sleeves to his suit, leaving his toned arms exposed and smoking.

The crowd screams louder than Deku as women claw at one another at a chance to touch their daddy hero.

Your cue comes as a hush falls over the crowd instantly influences by the chaotic somber chords.

Chords that slowly begin to build into something more as you waltz onto the stage. Each step calculated, your gaze cold as you look upon the crowd that stares up with wide eyes. Holding their breath as they wait to see what it is you will do.

You guess you've always been the wild card huh?

Slowly you choose chairs, tables and even some candles to float, turning agonizingly slow in the air as the song's lyrics become darker. As if entering the room of a witch who's mind was slowly descending into madness.

"Hush." You say with the song as the beat drops killing all of the lights in the room as you levitate, illuminated by the glow of your power as your eyes appear like two moons on an ink black sky.

Phones that were recording levitate with you as you hold your arms out, toes pointed beautifully even in heels.

The song's beat comes back around to another verse before all of the lights become blindingly bright, things returned to normal, phones returned to hands all in the blink of an eye. You take that step you never took with the same cold look.

As the crowd stares on wondering if it were all just a dream before a smile cracks on your face confirming that it was indeed real.

The crowd is deafening as they scream, chanting your name and flooding social media with your display of power.

Izuku gives you a shocked face before grinning from ear to ear with a thumbs up as Bakugou stares at you indifferently. He realizes just how much you've been holding back.

A smile plays on his lips as the crowd dies down, the DJ choosing to start off the party by playing the full song you had chosen. Cradles by Sub Urban as the women of 1A ambush you for a blurred night.

Two sets of eyes follow you throughout the night.

It isn't long before you are totally shit faced and sweaty from a night of dancing. Inhibitions and worries long since drowned out by the soothing affects of booze.

Magic is what you called liquor as you levitated all of your squad's drinks above your heads as the group swayed to the music.

"Tenjia! Can we please dance with you?" A lovely woman competes with the music and wins out. You look to the fan before looking towards your new found friends. They encourage you to mingle with your fans, insuring you they wouldn't be far.

But you go far as you find yourself deeper on the dance floor, drunkenly dancing with another group of women. Hours pass by like seconds, the dance floor slowly beginning to thin but not by much.

Someone tugs harshly on the crook of your arm causing you to turn on your heel hand raised in rage fueled panic.

When your eyes meet scarlet you relax as he pulls you to the fringes of the crowd until the two of you break free of the damp bodies only to be met with a slumped Izuku.

Burning eyes cut to you before a growl is exhaled from the hot head.

"Dumbass Deku drank way too much and puked all over the fucking bathroom. We gotta go." Alcohol clings to his breath as he pulls you closer to the sleeping jade haired man. You dig your heels in deeper than any mule causing Bakugou to turn towards you with a glare.

"What about U-san can't she take Deku to her room?"

"No. She can't." He bites out, "They all left to take Toru back to the room who also got too fucked up."

He pulls again and still you do not move earning you the nastiest glare he can muster. Which isn't much considering how diluted it is by both your stunning looks and the influence of deadly amounts of booze.

"I dont wanna leave I'm having fun!" You pout, Bakugou's grip tightens before he gnashes his teeth.

"I'm not leaving you here alone." A threat and a promise all rolled in one as he holds your gaze for several heartbeats. You feel the weight of his stare, especially so once his eyes begin to wander along your body. He yanks you to him, pressing you into his toned chest.

"Stop being a fucking brat and help me." He snarls in your ear as your knees begin to turn to jelly. You push him away with an exaggerated huff crossing your arms, watching with scrutinizing eyes as he hooks an arm under Deku. Scarlet narrow on you, hinting that you should slip under the other limp arm. Instead you use your quirk to support the drunkard.

The cool summer air does nothing to sober the odd trio. If anything it furthers your irritation of having to leave the party, your heels do not help in the matter as they begin to pinch your feet hinting they will cause blisters.

You stop dead in the street audibly whining as you fuss over your shoes.

"I dont know why you had to drag us out Kaachan. I was finally making fucking friends and I was finally having a good time again since..." Nausea settles in your stomach, Bakugou stops to look over his broad shoulder. Just as he is about to snarl out a question you inturpt by stomping towards him.

"Take my heeeeellllss!!!" You whine, brandishing them obnoxiously. Izuku groans as Bakugou snarls.

"Put them in my fucking pockets damn. Just watch out for glass and stop whining!!!" He bites, slowly losing his buzz as his normal sour mood settles onto his shoulders. Competing with the weight of a complicated relationship donning jade green hair.

You shove them as best you can into his pockets before leaning away, humming the song for your intro.

Bakugou cannot help the smirk that forms on his lips as he thinks of you floating as if it were nothing.

"I told you you'd fucking kill it." He says as the two of you finally drag Deku to the front doors of the hotel.

"Kill what?" You prompt, mind lost to the ease of alcohol. A heavy scarlet gaze falls onto you, when he sees your confused face he rolls his eyes.

"Dumbass, you were so worked up over it !" He half shouts, suddenly a blush blooms on your cheeks as you realize what he meant.

"Oh." Your cheeks flush further as he walks through the automatic doors, you stand outside.

Your drunken mind roaming before settling on the tile floors. Spiraling over the thought of walking bare foot on tile or carpet that isn't in your home. Defying logic as you've just walked the streets with no problem.

But the mind does as it pleases under as it does under any influence.

Katsuki re adjusts Deku's weight as it takes him a moment to realize you're not holding him up as well as you had been before.

"Oi!" He hisses turning towards you only to stare at you through glass doors. His heart pounds, he does not like you outside of his reach so late at night while do heavily intoxicated. He practically drags the dead weight he is carrying as he rushes outside for you.

His worry comes off as severe irritation and agitation as he glares down at you.

"Why are you still outside?" He snarls and you fight to keep yourself from shrinking back.

"I don't want my feet to get dirty. Can...can you carry me?" You keep your headed bowed, waiting for his inevitable explosion. When he barely makes a pop or a suck of his teeth you look up at him through long lashes.

His heart catches in his throat lodging the no that was steadily rising up his windpipe. Your eyes don't look as harsh as they normally do, they seem wider, more innocent. Doe like in nature, contradicting the predator that your dress suggests. He grinds his teeth.

"How do you propose I carry you?" He gestures to Deku whose is now floating on his own.

"I ride your back silly!" You shout with glee turning him around and jumping onto his sculpted back before he can say no. You giggle in his ear, taking in the scent of caramel with delight as he growls profanities while holding onto your thick and bare legs.

"I'm not a fucking pack mule." He murmurs to himself as the three of you board the elevator. Depsite it being a short ride you find yourself getting sleepy, lying your head on Katsuki's shoulder failing to suppress a yawn.

Deku's door appears before you quickly and you wonder if you had fallen into a cat nap. You stare at the numbers, senses slowly becoming heightened as your eyes flicker to your own door.

Would you find items from your bags missing?

Or Would there be more gifts for you to discover?

"Oi, magic hands. His key." Bakugo adjusts your weight hinting that he cannot use his hands, clearly over this whole situation.

"I don't need his key." Is all you say as you pull on the handle from within his room, the door opens itself yawning in the darkness of the room.

Your nails bite into Bakugou's shoulder before he begins walking in, hoping that you're focused enough to float Izuku to his bed. Your grip on his shoulders does not let up until Katsuki flicks on the small foyer light with a grunting struggle. Biting nails ease up as you pad into the dark room.

Although you are scared that someone may be lurking in the shadows you press forward, wanting more than anything to protect the two people behind you.

Light floods the room from overhead as Katsuki flicks on another light switch revealing nothing but a bed and neatly packed suitcase. You sigh before guiding the lush onto the plush white duvet.

"Alright, let's go." The hot head growls, flicking off the lights. That you flick back on with your quirk.

"No, we need to take care of him properly Suki. He can't sleep in his suit! What if he gets sick?!" You hiss, while items around the room begin to move on their own as if a ghost were present. Turning on the tap, pulling down a rag to wet with cool water, floating a trash can by the side of the bed.

Bakugou leans against the wall with a snarl, watching as you work. He notices how you choose to use your hands to free him of his shoes and socks. Before they make their way to his jacket, a sliding it off gently before pulling his shirt from his pants. Nimble fingers unlatching buttons slowly causing something to stir within the ash blonde. When you hands reach for his belt that something multiplies tenfold.

Bakugou Katsuki will die before he admits that something was jealousy.

He nudges you out of the way with his hip.

"Go get that rag before the sink fucking over flows." He hisses to which you give him a cold look disappearing into the bathroom.

Bakugou pulls harshly on the pant's legs, ripping them from Izuku leaving him in jade green boxers and a white shirt. He grumbles turning on his side to face Bakugou.

"Th..thank you Kaachan. W...will you text Ohacho that I'm okay?" His voice comes out raw, hand clutching to the hot head who threatens to pop. He goes to hiss no but Izuku rambles on.

"Y/N seemed to have had a good time. I know she's been a little worried and stressed lately but she shouldn't be. She's got you looking after he Kaachan..." Deku's eyes water for some reason as the blonde's face burns, eyes darting to the bathroom door where he hears you humming, he is unsure if you can here him or not.

He hears you let out a small curse as you fumble with what sounds like a pill bottle with a child safety cap. A drunk's worst enemy. He sucks his teeth.

"I don't think she likes me much." The blonde sighs while Deku's hand tightens once more.

"She gravitates towards you, especially when we are in a group." With that Bakugou scoffs.

"Only cause I'm her walking purse. Now shut the hell up and tell me where your fucking phone is." He snatches his hand away, rooting through jacket pockets before pants pockets. His fingers touch the smooth glass that lights to his touch.

He guesses the passcode and the phone unlocks, he scoffs again at knowing Deku so well.

But what the blonde doesn't know is that you *had* heard them. You heard everything.

Still you act as if you didn't when you emerge from the bathroom as Bakugou slams the phone on the bedside table, not even waking the now dead to the world Izuku. You set the rag on his forehead earning a small smile, the pills sit idle by his phone that you now plug in for him.

"Alright alright stop babying him and let's get to bed." Bakugou hisses, half from annoyance and half from worry that dumbass drunk will run his mouth again. You cut him a nasty glare before leaning over the sleeping man to fluff his pillows.

Katsuki grits his teeth not allowing his eyes to linger on your toned ass for long.

Suddenly strong arms are wrapped around you as Izuku curls into you, nuzzling into the side of your hip.

"Ochaco..." He hums as slight panic washes over you. How would you get out of his arms with out disturbing him?

Bakugou's popping hand lands hard on Deku's toned bicep, he seems unphased as he releases you with a loud snore.

"Come on, Y/N. Before he holds you hostage." A growl as he gives you a toned back. You stare at him for a long time before he turns around again snatching you up princess style.

"O..oi!" You stammer, slapping his chest to which your only reply is a devilish smirk as he makes his way into the hall way.

"You didn't want to get your feet dirty remember princess?" He stands in front of your door now as you fight the blush forming on your cheeks trying to remind yourself that only a few short days ago you wanted to kill this man.

Yet here is stood, holding you so delicately, demonstrating patience for you in situations where you wouldn't have done the same for him.

He waits for you to do your door trick as you let the numbers burn into your retinas.

Was he in there? Waiting?

You hadn't seen him at the party so where else would he be. All the while Scarlet eyes see the fear in yours, he hates to see you like this.

Why wouldn't you just fucking tell him what was wrong so he could fix it?

Why did he even fucking care?

He wasn't sure, he just knew something changed between the two of you this weekend and he wasn't aware how much more things could change in just a few short hours.

You swallow thickly about to raise your hand before Katsuki starts walking towards his own door. You knit your eyebrows as you look up to him, he grunts as if to prompt you to open his door and you do.

"I wanted to watch another movie with you." Is all that he offers as he sets you down. You chalk it up to him being drunk as he leaves you alone in the foyer disappearing into the bathroom.

Steam begins to waft into the shared space with the bed and couch. The blonde pokes his head out to instruct you.

"Find a movie and get settled I'm not gonna be longer than five. I have a clean shirt you can use iffin ya want or I can get your something for you."

"I..I'm fine." You half stammer, almost stumbling into the room.

You were weighted down with an emotion you hadn't felt in a long time. Relief floods you, seeping into your limbs causing them to feel like heavy sand bags.

The room spins from the booze and your racing heart beat as you unzip your long dress, stepping out only to plop onto the bed. You find the plastic remote quickly surfing before your eye lids become too heavy.

Bakugou keeps his promise and emerges from the bathroom in five minutes. Violently rubbing the towel on his head before tossing it into the bathroom clad only in his boxers. He spies you on the bed and freezes.

He wants to shout but you are seemingly fast asleep, he is instantly regrets not forcing you to take one of his shirts as you lie topless and in a small thong over the white duvet.

"Fuck...."He hisses both from the sight of you and the situation. He would HAVE to sleep on the couch tonight, no letting you convience him other wise. He charges his phone, rummaging in his bag for an extra cord before plugging in yours on the same side table. He looks to the closet for an extra blanket to cover you up but when he comes up short he has to stop himself from blowing the whole damn closet to smithereens.

The door groans from his grip and your sigh of content pulls him out of his fit of rage. His eyes linger over you while he wonders if he can get you under the duvet.

He himself sighs as he gently tries to wrap you in the part of the duvet that would have been meant for him. Holding his breath he tries to move it over your sleeping form as you roll onto your back. Just as he is ready to set it down and tuck you in your eyes snap open.

Glowing with panicked rage before easing into something soft.

Much too soft for Bakugou to decipher.

In the glow of the TV Bakugou looks extremely different. The flashing soft light paints him in such a way that you feel hypnotized by his red eyes.

Eyes that you've felt all weekend, eyes that bring no worry or panic or untapped rage unlike the other green pair that has hunted you down.

How could just a few days change things? How could a pleasant afternoon, an odd night and this moment right here with him hovering over you as he tries to be a man and blanket you change everything you though you knew about him?

How did the glow of the TV make him so fucking handsome?

Your hand snakes to the nap of his neck pulling him down so that you may capture his lips. He pushes against your grip with all of his might.

"You don't want this..." He murmurs, eyes darting away, "I'm too..."

You watch his intense eyes dart away with the shadow of memories past. Ah, so he too felt as if he were too overbearing, too head strong.

Too fucking angry over nothing to be loved.

"Then lie with me Kaachan. I want that." You move yourself beneath what is your half of the duvet, patting the sheets beside you. He stares at you for a moment too long, suddenly you feel raw beneath his heated gaze, leaving you to wonder if you made the right choice allowing him to bring you in here.

As if reading your mind he sucks his teeth rounding the bed to plop angirly. Giddy escapes your body in the form of a breathy giggle as you drape him in the duvet. Snuggling against his arm much to his dismay and blush.

"I'm gonna get too hot." But he makes no move, if anything he adjusts his arm so you can snuggle deeper. The movie lulls on as your drunken mind wanders, landing you in a devilish thought.

"You're much better than that body pillow." You tease, tracing a finger down his Godly chest, he goes rigid beneath you, "Less clothing too..."

He grabs onto your wrist, holding your gaze with a deadly smirk.

"Ah is this what you've been doing with it?" You blush furiously in answer while he laughs darkly, "Perv."

"I...no its different when it's the real thing. Your pillow is tacky your shirt isn't even ripped in the right places." You huff angrily, encouraging his smirk.

"You're right it is different cause this isn't the only thing I'd do to the real one." Heat blooms on your cheeks as you prop yourself up to better see those deep pools of scarlet.

"What would you do to the real one?" It's flirty and yet serious, as you press your bare breasts against his arm and chest hoping to get a rise out of him. He sucks his teeth holding your stare none the less.

"Firstly I'd fuck the brat out of her." He laughs then as your heart claws up your throat, "If she'd allow it. The real thing hasn't been herself lately. I'm.....worried."

You kiss him then, straddling him faster than he'd like. He fights to keep from kissing you back but once you bite his bottom lip and pull he loses all thought. Flipping you over, hungry lips and gnashing teeth find your neck and bare breasts living little blooming circles.

You moan out as he makes his way down. He notices your ripped skin coming to your face with a snarl.

"I'm not talking about it." You say grabbing the back of his neck, not allowing him to break free as he soon melts into your touch.

Fine you don't want to tell him? He'll just fuck the shit out of you and make you wish you had told him.

That you'll tell him everything that bothers you.

And he'll fuck you hard enough that eventually you'll tell him everything that makes you happy.

Because now he's having a hard time noticing from the fringes.

He devours you whole, kissing and biting as his fingers find your slick sex. He smiles against your neck as he speaks in a voice soaked in desire.

"So wet for me already little kitten?" You hadn't realized you liked the pet name until it falls from his kissable lips. You smile a deadly smirk, feeding his ego as you look him in the eye.

"Only for you King Explosion Murder." You say it will all seriousness as his smirk turns into a dark chuckle.

"I guess Kirishima disclosed my pilot hero name huh?" His hand dips to your core, swirling quickly causing your eyes to flutter, "Its King to you got it kitten?"

You buck against his hand in response. He happily obliges, devouring your lips whole as you pant, moaning as the heat builds in your core. He edges you purposefully several times before you gasp out.

"Please..." He smirks then nipping at your neck.

"Please what?"

"Please King. Do your worst." Your breathy voice has him going mad as he places kisses down your breasts and stomach. Stopping to give small kisses around the bandage over your navel before you give him a gentle push further. He wraps deadly arms around your hips, spreading your legs as he bites into the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

You both moan and ooze in ecstasy as he leaves lovely bruising bites on your thighs before he goes onto you. Swirling his tongue along your needy clit as fingers pump into your core. He goes harder and faster with each loud gasp or moan you make, listening to your body as your core desperately grabs onto his fingers. Your head begins to swim from the threat of your first of many cum of the night. He smiles up at you with deadly scarlet eyes before he clamps down over your sensitive bud, sucking until you're a screaming thrashing mess.

"Bakugoooooooohhhh!" Is all you can say between outright moans as he over stimulates you with harder sucking and thrusts until you're cumming again and then once more before he crawls back up you.

Crashing a kiss onto your reddened face before he flips you over, raising your hips in the air and pushing you harshly against the bed.

He thinks better of it, removing his strong palm from the nape of your neck suddenly remembered how you've recoiled from his touch before.

"I'm okay...please..." You muffle, keeping your face comfortably smooshed between pillows and the soft mattress. Bakugou returns his hand without hesitation, pushing you further down as he teases you with the tip. Sliding it up and down your slick as you try to push agaisnt him.

He slides in slowly, inch by inch until he is still and deep within you. Causing you to attempt to get some friction after you feel him twitch. He starts with a slow but harsh pace, pulling all the way to the tip of his head before crashing back into you, hitting your clit nicely with his hanging anatomy. Over and over until it is faster and somehow harder as he ruts into you. Grunting as he goes encouraging your clenching moans as he eases both his and your frustrations.

For once in your life you relax, you take it as your body becomes limp, your back arching before his hands grab onto your hips, holding you in place. Your head swims, eyes flutter as you're starting to see stars.

Slowly you're learning in the time that he's fucking you that it's okay to rely on others, especially for pleasure. That it's okay to not have control.

Bakugou fights back the need to bust both literally and figuratively. His sweet salted caramel smell filling the intamite space, fighting the itch to let an explosion or two pop off of his arms.

"Fuuuuucckk kitten...you're so wet and good for me." His breathy tone sends you ever closer to yet another mind numbing crescendo. Heat washes over your body as he slows, you whimper in protest.

"I want you to cum King Katsuki..." Your voice is whiney as you attempt to buck against him to aid. He smirks, smacking your ass and watching with delight as it jiggles. He pulls at your hair, lifting you up as he leans over you to whisper closer to your ear.

"And where kitten do you suggest I do?" His voice is dark and ragged from vigorous work.

"In me." You say without hesitation, smiling deadly as he twitches in you. You expect to have your face shoved in the mattress once more but instead he flips you onto his back. Hand squeezing your throat a bit before he kisses your neck again. Leaving a large bruising bite on your collar bone. He ruts into you again, coming up to hold eye contact with you as you wrap your legs around his toned back.

Normally this is when you would look away, the eye contact would be too much as someone had their way with you. But for whatever reason you cannot as if he were a train wreck you couldn't tear your eyes away from.

And for whatever reason he cannot tear his away from you either. He has never finished facing a women, ever.

But he wants to. *Needs* to.

He wants to drink in how red your cheeks get, how your mouth forms over his name sending shivers down his spine. How your voice alone sends him into a crazed spiral that only you can placate.

He presses harshly against your hip bone as you pull him closer with your legs, he pulls on your nipple a bit causing another moan to fall from your lips. It encourages him to go harder and faster, hitting you in just right.

Sliding all over the g spot as his gaze holds yours stead fast. Sending you over an impossibly high edge as you feel him rut sloppily into you. Stars cloud your vision as you become unbearably hot, legs quivering, failing to stay on a toned back.

"Katsukiiii!!" You cry staying into scarlet pools that you drown in, he notices the slight glow to your eyes as small objects around the two of you begin to float. He let's off a small pop on his back before he sputters into you, pulling you close to him, breathing you in as he slowly thrusts. Breathlessly groaning in your ear.

Suddenly the room is plunged into silence although it is not uncomfortable. You're shaking from both the experience of letting go mentally and from the exhaustion he has put on your body.

"You okay?" He smooths a heated hand over your shoulder. You feel fine, you feel better than fine, great actually but life does not allow you to feel that way for long. Your mind pulls back into a panicked mode when you hear a slamming door and footsteps in the hall. Green irises try so hard to replace Scarlet in your very recent memory. Bakugou feels tepid tears hit his face. He pulls you into his chest rubbing your hand up the length of your back.

"I...I just want to forget those fucking green eyes." You sob into his chest, clutching at nothing. Explosions echo in the room before he soothes both himself and you. Quickly the booze and exhaustion pull you under, when you feel Bakugou pull away you wrap your arms around him harder than ever.

"Stay, please stay Kaachan...." You whisper, grip locked even as you fall victim to sleep.

Bakugou lies awake, over analyzing every sound in the hall way as he thinks. As he racks his brain of who you're fearful of with green eyes. He remembers then, that fucking creep staring at your door as if it were an open invitation to church.

Bakugou will pluck out those eyes for you.

You just have to let him.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bnha fanfiction #bakuogu angst #bakugo angst #bakougo katsuki x reader #kittenwrites #bhna x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x fem reader

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one-leaf-grimoire · 3 years

Text

“triad”

Chapter 18: the rebirth of a world

uhhh so I cried like a baby while writing this so have fun!!!!

ao3 link

For two days and two nights, I forget everything. I sink deep into stasis, maintaining mana skin as I sit high up in a tree, where no one will find me. The clear air and the strong mana around me both sink into my pores, flowing through my body, and compounds itself upon the power already within me. The world dissolves away, taking my body and mind with it. All I am is a pair of lungs, breathing out and in, over and over in an endless cycle.

Life and death. Death and life. There is joy in death, and despair in life.

Breathe.

Who taught me how to breathe?

Mother?

No… not that woman.

I taught myself.

There have only been three times in my life where I have been truly at peace.

The first- before I was born.

There was no life, there was no breath. There was only warmth.

The second- when I was One.

His warmth was joined with mine. The bliss of unity. I ceased to exist.

The third- Now.

Warm, golden light envelops me as I breathe. In and out. In and out.

There is nothing. I am nothing. I will never be anything again.

Either way, the world will end. Because of me. So I will become nothing. I will become hated.

I have destroyed myself before. And I will do it again. Because… maybe then I can be happy.

Not me… someone.

What happens to everyone?

They will be destroyed, just as I was.

There was joy in that destruction. They will find joy in their deaths.

And there will be joy in their rebirth. The rebirth of a world worth living in.

I see nothing but a golden light up ahead. I desperately want to hold it in my hand.

I don’t see the bodies I will have to walk over to do it.

The light will outshine the blood that stains my hands.

And then I will die. I will burn in Hell for three eternities, but that will not be enough.

…

“I forgive you.”

I remember how William smiled at me when he said those words.

Patri… will you forgive me, too?

Of course, he can’t answer. Because I killed him.

Why am I doing this? Why am I willing to go so far?

For a moment, I leave my body, and look into my own eyes. My own dead, cold eyes. What I see is something far from human. What I see is something that scares me.

Don’t do it… you don’t have to.

She closes her eyes.

You’re going to die anyway. Is it really worth it to take everything down with you?

…

Of course, I can’t answer. Because I already killed her.

There’s no hope for me. There is no more joy in this world, or love. I will atone for my crimes by committing the worst one of all.

What do you mean? What crimes? Haven’t I done my absolute best? Is there really no hope?

Yami and William are still alive. My two oldest friends. And even if they die… I have my family. I have Marx! And Nozel and Fuegoleon and Charlotte and Mereoleona… and all the kids… and Adeline… and…

My daughter.

Shouldn’t you spend your last moments fighting for a better world for your daughter?

Isn’t that a spark worth kindling?

…

Julius hates me.

The spark dies.

No… this is just a curse. Any curse can be broken.

Not this one.

Her eyes open, and they are glowing blue. The light is so bright that it drowns out all else, the entire world melting away under its burn.

You cannot escape fate itself.

She smiles, her mouth warping into a toothed grin. She starts to cry, the tears running in two mirrored streaks down her cheeks, black as the blood that flows from a pen. But she keeps smiling.

The smile holds an emotion that I cannot even fathom. But somehow, I know its name.

Malice.

“I am your fate… and you are the world’s fate.”

They reach out. The two blinding lights no longer come from her eyes; they come from her wings.

Both of their hands glow with marks.

“Isn’t there joy in your shared fate? Isn’t that the closest two people can be? In life, and in death?”

But… there’s life after death! I’ve seen it- I don’t want to die! I want to be alive! I want to love.

“What is the point… if his love has been removed from this world?”

Her eyes bulge from her head, splitting into a sheet of thousands of tiny pupils… like an insect.

There’s other love in this world… I want to experience it!

It’s too late.

Either die alone, or die with the entire world. You have no choice.

Their hands close around my throat and finally break the cycle of my breath.

…

With a violent gasp, I’m jolted from my trance, and my eyes pop open. The sound disturbs the area around me, and four birds burst out of the leaves beside me, cawing angrily before flying away. The flutter of feathers subsides, leaving me alone once again in a comfortable silence.

The wind blows across the treetops, a quiet roar that bends branches and tears leaves. My hair flies out of my face, rippling around my head for a moment before everything becomes still once again.

Sounds erupt as soon as the wind has quelled. Bugs and birds, appearing from nowhere, all raising their voices in a song. A dissonant, confusing song, but a song nonetheless.

It’s peaceful…

Too peaceful.

After a long moment, I slowly stand up, my knees and back nearly creaking with effort after being stationary for so long. Despite my lack of activity, my body feels light, almost unhealthily light. Maybe it’s just the contrast from my recent pregnancy, but something tells me that my constant output of mana over the last two days may have strengthened some things yet weakened everything else.

Fine. I can still fight, though. I feel healthy-

Right as the thought crosses my mind, the left side of my mark bursts into agony once again. I squeeze that eye shut, simply gritting my teeth. Over these months, the pain hasn’t lessened; I just became better at bearing it. Fortunately, I can sense that I just burnt my candle down to the base, so I won’t have to deal with it for much longer.

“Come on…” I whisper to myself, feeling the pain finally start to dissipate. “I need to go… head out with the others…” Shakily, I take a careful step forward, farther towards the tapering end of the branch. “And then-”

Before I can finish, the world turns upside down. Like skates upon ice, my feet slip out from under me, numb and unresponsive. My eyes widen, and I don’t even have time to shriek before I fall, my limp body plunging like a rock to the bottom of the lake.

...what-

I don’t really realize what’s happened until the world fades back in, and the canopy of the forest looms high above. Did I just pass out? And fall out of the tree? What on earth-

Pain floods my body, each bone screaming in protest as I try to move. With a sharp inhale, I manage to roll over, one of my arms flopping uselessly beside me. Shit! I grit my teeth, not sure of what to do. I just fell out of the tree?! What on earth made me do that? My head feels fuzzy and light, as if I just woke up from a long nap, but there’s a familiar feeling of trickling blood down the side of my face and past my ear. Well, I’m probably just an idiot and misstepped… I don’t think I passed out. I hit my head pretty hard, I’ll probably remember what happened later. Anyway…

Right on cue, mana within me activates. Bands of numerals start to circle my body, glowing a familiar, comforting blue. Chrono Anastasis. I let out a relieved sigh as the pain starts to disappear, slowly but surely fading into just a memory. My broken bones start to mend, and the blood dries up and flakes off of my face. I wiggle my fingers a little, delightly to feel that they aren’t numb anymore. Well, that was weird… time to go-

The fuzzy feeling in my head suddenly intensifies as I try to sit up. With only a hollow gasp, I flop back down, my strength leaving my body all at once. My fingers go numb again, and my toes, and everything else.

Panic starts to seep in.

What’s going on? Am I-

The light starts to get brighter.

I’m… Dying…

All at once, I realize the problem: Right now, I contain the magic of three people; not just their magic, their memories. Shards of their very souls. I am a vessel for Julius and Patri, but my weakened body, a soul that’s already trying to die, is withering under their weight.

The moth is flying towards me again.

“N...n…”

A gargled sound escapes my lips as I desperately struggle to keep my eyes open.

Sleep.

“N-NO-”

There has to be something I can do- I’m not done-

I can see a sunset. I see Patri. He’s grinning malevolently.

“Just you try and protect them now!”

The moth flies closer.

I have to protect them… all of them… I need to live and create that future!

I ball up my fists.

The memory flashes along with the sunset. Patri flies far above.

Sealing magic… release!

That spell… it’s a forbidden spell, one that sealed up the necessary power to unleash patri’s ultimate attack- the one that Julius spent his final moments thwarting. Patri carried that within him, with the help of that spell…

Forbidden magic… doesn’t that need a sacrifice or something?

As far as I know, I’m alone.

Either that… or something is going to change about me.

Like Nero, who used so much forbidden magic that her very humanity was warped. She was confined within the body of a bird for centuries, and even after she returned to a human form, she had horns. The mark of the Devil.

Great…

The light starts to fade. I’m running out of time.

Patri… let me use these memories. Let me live just a little bit longer. Help me cast this spell.

Of course, he doesn’t answer, but I feel something stir within me. There’s a sound outside, a whirring, unearthly sound. Magic.

I’ll have to sacrifice part of my humanity, just to live a little longer.

That’s ok.

There was hardly any to begin with.

…

“Where on earth have you been!? And- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

Marx stands in my way, his face red with anger as he blocks the hallway. “Your mark- the other half-”

“Get out of my way.”

My voice sounds flat, the words alien as they leave my lips. I can’t recognize its tones anymore.

Marx…

His eyes widen, and his hands start to shake.

… I don’t even know who you are.

No… I don’t. This man is a stranger. I’ve never seen him before. I’ve never talked to him. There were no deep conversations, no commiserating about Julius’s behavior. I’ve never made him coffee, and I certainly don’t know that he likes it with just a dash of milk.

This man is a stranger.

He is not my best friend.

Slowly, Marx closes his mouth. There’s a strange acceptance in the movement. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he is starting to get an inkling. Without another word, Marx steps out of the way. He doesn’t move, or even raise his gaze from the floor as I walk by, my eyes fixed on the hallway up ahead.

I don’t know him… I can’t know him.

I bite my lip as I turn the corner and start ascending the stairs.

I can’t… look him in the eye.

My room is empty when I reach it, thankfully. Any unwanted visitors would have complicated things, since I need to leave quickly. I strip down and start pulling on a new set of clothes. A clean shirt and skirt, my usual uniform that I haven’t been able to fit into for months; tights; boots lined with fur; a thick grey peacoat with a high collar; and finally, my robe and my Crown upon my head. I unfasten the medals from the front, then turn to look at the empty chair by the window.

Julius’s robe lays draped over the back, still and dusty. Sucking in a breath, I step forward.

Here… these are yours.

Slowly, I place the medals and chain onto the fuzzy white fur, and let my hand stroke it for just a moment. Then, I step back.

I’m sorry… I couldn’t keep my promise.

The room is silent. The entire castle is silent.

I know you’ll hate me for this. But in the end… the future will be bright. I’m sorry I couldn’t be like you.

With one last look, I turn to leave.

Evening falls upon the castle as I make my way down to my usual exit. The candlelight on the walls flickers with my pitch-black shadow, broken only as I pass by a mirror. The sudden sight of my own reflection makes me pause for just a moment.

That’s… me.

I look like a stranger.

I don’t know who you are.

The mark on my forehead has changed after that forbidden spell. When I woke up, I expected to have some sort of weg; horns, a streak of black over my cheek, or something in that vein. But no. All that happened was that a magic circle was burned into the grass around me, and both sides of my mark were filled in with black. It doesn’t feel any different, but it’s strange. But in the end… it doesn’t matter. I won’t have to worry about it for long.

The sealing spell will buy me just enough time to win this fight. To win and set everything right, at long last. And then… I’ll let go.

What will it be like, I wonder…

I turn away, and continue to walk.

But I’m not alone. Footsteps thunder towards me, and Marx bursts back into the hallway, out of breath. “S-Stop right there!” he commands, pointing at me. My pace doesn’t falter, and I continue to move as if I hadn’t heard him.

Marx grits his teeth as I advance. “I-I said stop! I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

Step. Step. Step.

“You’re different… something’s wrong, and you better tell me what it is! Hold on-” Marx stumbles as I brush by him, before turning to watch me move away. “Wait! Don’t just leave without a word! Don’t think you can just go out there and die for everyone! I won’t allow it!”

Not for everyone. With everyone.

“STOP!”

His desperate cry falls upon deaf ears.

“Wait-”

Someone else steps into the hallway ahead of me. They’re shadowed by the torches behind them, but I know that voice.

I keep walking.

Don’t look at her- Don’t look at her-

The torches flicker, illuminating her front for just a moment.

I make the mistake of looking.

No… not at her. Not at her golden eyes. Not at her beautiful face.

No… my eyes are drawn to the thing she’s holding in her hands.

The bottoms of my boots scuff against the stone as I halt suddenly, my body freezing.

T-That…

…

"Once everything settles down... I... I would like to have a family."

Julius wanted her so bad. So… so bad.

But by some cruel twist of fate, he fell in love with me.

Why…

My vision starts to blur.

… why would you look at something like me… with a smile?

He smiled at me… he promised we would be together forever. He promised that nothing bad would ever happen to me.

But that was a lie.

But there was one promise that he did keep.

One way or another… even if it has to be through sheer force of will…

Something wet starts to drip down my face. My eyes burn, and my heart weakens.

“Do you really think… my love is that weak?”

Slowly, Adeline walks up to me, her form becoming clearer. Despite everything that’s happening, she still wears that kind smile on her face. She comes to a stop in front of me. Slowly, I tear my eyes away from her face and down into the bundle in her arms.

It stirs slightly.

I see her face.

My love still exists in this world.

A strange sound escapes my lips. It’s almost a sob, not quite a gasp. I can’t tell if it’s sad or happy, because I can hardly remember what it was like to feel either of those emotions.

But now… I feel them. I feel them like a million knives in my chest.

She rolls her head slightly. She has fat cheeks,and a tuft of dark brown hair on her mostly-bald head.

And then, she opens her eyes.

You just have to find it.

They sparkle like amethysts, like lavender blowing in the wind. She stares up at me through those squinted eyes, but just that little sliver of color is enough to break me.

She… she…

“Do you… do you want to-”

I nod before Adeline finishes her sentence. She nods, then carefully places the baby in my arms.

She closes her eyes again, but turns her head to snuggle into my warmth.

I stand there, still frozen, with this beautiful, precious thing in my arms. I hold her like she’s made of glass, because she is.

Julius’s love wasn’t something I had to find. It wasn’t something I had to fight for, or earn.

It was always there. Inside me.

You… you are proof of a love that no longer exists.

No…

I let my head start to hang over her, more and more hot tears bubbling up and streaming down my face.

You are his love.

You are proof… that I am human.

Because Julius’s love was what made me human, in the end. I know that now, I feel that now that he’s gone. But this baby, this child in my arms, my daughter-

She is proof… she is proof.

“I…. I…”

A hushed, weak whimper finally leaves my mouth, barely able to form words as I crumble further and further.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

I whisper those words again and again, warped by my tears and by my guilt.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry-”

They raise in volume each time they’re repeated.

I’m sorry- I’m sorry-

How could I be so selfish?

How could I be so foolish?

If only I had known… that you would give me more joy than anything in my entire life-

Joy.

Two pairs of arms are around me as I sink down to sit on the ground. I melt into a sobbing, shaking mess, but they are there. They are warm.

“M-Marx- I-’M sorry- and-” I finally look up, a pair of hands holding my face. Adeline is crying too, but she still smiles. “Adeline… I was so unfair to you-”

“Shhh…” She leans forward, and presses her forehead against mine. “It’s alright now. It’s alright.”

Slowly, I close my eyes, one arm holding Joy close while the other wraps around Marx.

But… it’s not alright, is it?

I sit here, with forbidden magic in my body, with the blood of Patri on my hands, with an enemy knocking at our gates.

But even worse…

I let out another gasping sob.

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…

But even if I do…

We sit there for a long time, until my sobs finally calm. After a moment of silence, I take a deep breath before sitting up. Adeline and Marx both sit back, their eyes red and puffy. Even though they have no idea what’s going on, it’s as if they know… and they still want to help.

“Marx…. You’re my best friend.”

His eyes widen a little at the sudden confession. I let out a small smile, the most I can manage right now. “I…”

“It’s ok. But just know that I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head a little before redirecting my gaze to Adeline. “And you…”

Julius…

You could never hate me.

Because, no matter what… the two of us know that much.

We were one. I’ve seen your soul. I am your soul.

You could never hate me.

And you would be happy to see me love again.

I reach out to her, and she takes my hand. I give her another strained smile, fighting back more bitter tears.

“I’m so sorry… that you fell in love with me. But…” I sniff once. “I love you, Adeline. That’s the one thing I’m sure of.”

Out of everyone here, I know that she and Marx are the ones I’ve hurt the most. But even now, they hold me.

“I love you too... “ Adeline reaches up with her other hand to wipe her eyes. “I don’t know what you were doing… but I’m glad you’re back for now.”

My heart sinks.

For now.

No…

There is no “for now.”

That dark path might have consumed me, but I will fight against the end as hard as I can.

I am not the fate of the world… but I can still save it.

Joy squirms a little, letting out a little sob. My heart jolts out of my chest. “Oh- I-I don’t know what I did, is she okay? Oh god, she’s-”

I cut myself off when I hear laughing. I look up to see both Adeline and Marx chuckling at me. “What?! This isn’t funny!”

“Yes it is! Don’t worry-” Adeline reaches out to stroke Joy’s cheek with the back of her hand. “She’s hungry~”

“Hungry?” I frown, not sure why they’re both looking at me expectantly. Then, it hits me. “Oh… ah…” I let out a nervous laugh. “I probably shouldn’t feed her… I might not be healthy.”

Adeline frowns. “What? What do you mean?”

I can save the world… I will. I am the natural enemy of the Devil. I will destroy Qhlipoth and restore peace to this kingdom. And then…

I don’t answer. I just lean in to give Adeline a kiss.

I’ll spend my last days with Marx, Adeline, and Joy.

When I pull back, Joy is once again nestled in Adeline’s arms. I turn to look at Marx, giving him a sad little smile.

“I still need to fight… I’ve done too much to prepare for this.” For some reason, I can’t help but chuckle. “It would be a waste to not go at this point, no matter what Nacht says. So… Marx… will you let me go?”

After a moment, Marx smiles, nodding his head. “Of course… go. You’re the Wizard King, after all.”

Wizard King…

Yes. There’s still time for me to be the Wizard King.

With that, I jump to my feet, sudden energy and vigour coursing through my veins. Maybe it’s blind hope, maybe it’s just joy. But right now, I feel like I could take on an army of devils. Adeline looks a little frightened, but after a moment the emotion fades from her face. “That’s right… you need to catch up with the others! The rescue squad left a couple of hours ago!”

“Oh! So the fight’s started without me? How rude!” I grin, giving the two of them a wink. “Keep the castle orderly while I’m gone… I’ll apologize properly when I get back.” I look down one last time at my daughter. Her eyes are open again, and I swear that she smiles, despite only being two days old.

“Take care of Joy… one day, you’ll tell her this story, I’m sure of it.”

Adeline nods, her eyes glinting with determination.

“Yes… both of her parents are Wizard Kings. She’ll hear more stories than this.”

Yes… yes she will.

Because Joy is the daughter of two Wizard Kings. The daughter of Julius Novachrono. She bears my hair, and his eyes. She is human… and if there’s one thing that I’ve learned, it’s that humans are an endless candle of potential.

I have no right to snuff that candle out.

With one last wave, I turn and run off towards the exit, already queuing up magic around me. Due to the forbidden sealing spell, this fight might be a little more… interesting than expected. But I’ve already vowed to not use the magic I sealed away. I no longer need it.

I don’t need to recreate the world in order to make it bright. Because now I can see for myself how bright it is.

Next time! The battle to rescue William and Yami is underway, and the first devils have emerged from the Qliphoth. Will our Wizard King get there in time? And will she be able to take on three powerful foes at once?

#triad #black clover #fic #oc: lisa #bc oc #oh god oh fuck #bc spoilers

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dindjarriiin · 4 years

Text

din djarin || spaceboy.

Request: Love your writing!! Can you write an imagine where the reader is kidnapped by some Empire sympathizers and used as bait to catch Mando and the child? They hurt her/try to get information out of her but Mando saves her and then bandages her up? Super fluffy and awesome? Thank you so much!

The metallic taste of blood filled ___’s mouth. She spat the crimson tar onto the cement floor in distaste, a weak chuckle leaving her dry lips as her head lolled back. “I gotta say,” She began, a light smirk on her face as she schemed. “You got a mean right hook.” Another punch to her stomach made her groan and lurch forward in the chair. The metal keeping her bound in said infernal chair was beginning to cut into her skin, the edges too clean and too sharp. “’s that all you got?” Blood shot out of her nose in a gruesome fashion as the fist slammed against her face.

“Your sarcastic wit will soon run thin, bounty hunter.” The cloaked man had yet to reveal his face, stood in the corner of the room amongst the shade and shadow. “At least by the time Rax is done with you.” Despite the dim lighting, ___ could see the yellow of his teeth as he grinned, even from where she was bound.

“Look, how many times have I gotta tell you? I don’t know anything about a Chil-” Rax knuckles collided with ___’s face yet again. The right side of her face had gone numb, but the hard blow didn’t make her head spin any less. “I’m telling you, you got the wrong gal.” Her voice was much weaker this time as her eyes trailed up and tried to look at the figure.

“You have been seen with the Mandalorian and the Child on numerous occasions, bounty hunter. Do not try to deny your...involvement.” The crude smirk on his face was just visible, making a shiver run down ___’s spine. She gulped, leaning back into her chair once more as the cloaked figure began to pace in the shadows. “Our sources are never wrong. So you will tell me where the Child and that hunk of metal is or I will gut you like the feral beast you are.”

___ shook her head, a defiant smirk on her face as she looked into his soul. She didn’t need to see him to feel his surprise at her resilience. Blood trickled down her forehead, her lip split and bleeding too. One side of her face had already begun to swell, a nasty green colour beginning to flourish across her cheekbone; she looked like hell, yet still, she managed to hold her head up high. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, old man.”

The cloaked figure appeared to let out a hum in what could only be described as faux-surprise. “I expected as much...” He sighed, readjusting his cloak. “Rax, do what you must. The Mandalorian will be here soon. Whether she remains alive or not, I do not care. It is not her that I want.” The figure began to leave the dilapidated room, the realization of the situation suddenly dawning on ___.

“Wait! Please! D-Don’t hurt him!” She cried out, arms tugging on the metal restraints. “Please.”

“Ah, so you do know him?” The figure turned, one shaft of light from a hole in the roof shining down on his face. ___’s face paled. Of course. She should have known that voice.

“You...” She whispered, eyes trained on him intently as she swallowed her fear. “What do you want from it, huh? It’s just a kid.” The Client laughed, humoured by her questioning.

“Why is it that you bounty hunters simply cannot just keep your mouths shut?” The Client asked mockingly, eyes squinting down at ___ with assured malice which she could feel from her chair. It seemed to pierce into her skin and sting her insides sharply.

“He isn’t going to come after me, you know?” ___ called out as The Client turned once more to leave. “He’s got no idea where I am.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, dear.” The Client taunted. The sudden distant sound of gunfire only made his grin widen. “It appears he is as stupid as I thought.”

“Look, there are other ways we can sort this out, just don’t hurt him h-”

“Your Mandalorian broke the code and stole what was mine. And for that, he will pay with his life.” He hissed, spit flying from his mouth. “As will you...” The Client left without another word, leaving ___ alone in the room with the looming Rax, who smiled down at her in excitement as he cracked his knuckles.

Din was panicked. He hadn’t felt this panicked since his last gunfight which nearly ended up with him dead. A cold sweat had formed on his forehead, his heavy breathing fogging up his visor. Where was she? The Child remained in his ship, sleeping in his cot as Din traversed through the busy market on the seventh level of the Underworld. ‘I’m going to the market.’ she had told him with a smile. ‘I think it’s time for a new blaster. I won’t be long.’

It had been two hours. The Underworld itself was a dangerous place, but Din knew ___ could handle a simple pickpocket or drunkard. A feeling in his gut told him something bad had happened.

Pushing through multiple bodies in the dimly lit level, he finally noticed a stall adorned with numerous weapons; blasters, staffs, blades. A lone Clawdite manned it, trying to entice as many customers as he could, though was often met with disinterest. Din, however, flocked to his call immediately.

“You. Have you served a woman recently? Human. ___ hair and ___ eyes?” Din asked almost desperately, though luckily his helmet softened his desperation. The Clawdite seemed to think for a moment, hand on its scaly chin as he pondered.

“Oh, why yes I have! After a DL-44 she was, haggled me down to a measly 700 credits too! The gall on that one, but I must say she was very convincing, she would have had me head if-”

“Do you know where she went?” Din interjected, already tired of the incessant rambling of the merchant.

“Well, as a matter of fact I do...But it will cost ya!” He exclaimed with a grin. Din rolled his eyes before deciding that he didn’t really have any other choice. He could be roaming this place for hours before he found her.

“What’s your price?” He asked through gritted teeth.

The Clawdite pretended to think for a moment, humming to himself before almost leaping over the counter as he pointed to Mando’s waist. “That blaster on ya belt.” Din subconsciously touched it, frowning at the thought of parting with it. There was nothing particularly grand about the blaster itself, in fact, it was quite a poor model. But what made it so special was the fact that ___ had given it to him.

“This blaster?” His question was met with an enthusiastic nod. “And you’ll tell me where she went?” The Clawdite nodded once more, holding his hand out with desperate excitement. “Fine.” Din grumbled, placing the blaster into his hand. The Clawdite exclaimed in glee, jumping on the spot as he admired the metal object. “Hey- you said you’d tell me where she went.”

“Oh, yes!” The Clawdite pulled his gaze from the blaster for a moment to look at Din. “There were a few stormtroopers and a mean lookin’ Barabel. Snatched her right up. Caught wind of them talkin’ about a client after they knocked her out.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“It’s the Underworld, m’boy. Kidnappin’ and the likes are just a part of livin’ down ‘ere.” The Clawdite dismissed, attention falling back onto his new blaster. “That’s all I can tell you I’m afraid.”

Din let out a growl, kicking the stand in anger as thoughts of what The Client would do to her filled his mind. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not now. With newfound determination, he made his way back to his ship, and set course for the place where it all started.

“So, Rax...You’re a merc I take it?” ___ began to rattle off nervously, attempting to buy herself some time. She prayed to the Maker that it wasn’t Din out there making all that racket. The remnants of the Empire were sneaky. They had snatched her when she was alone, far from Din and the Child. A simple refuel gone to shit in a matter of seconds; one minute she was walking down the markets of Coruscant, the next she was bound to a metal chair and being beaten by a half-wit.

“No more talking.” Rax growled out, edging closer to her. “Now you bleed-”

“Hey, wow, Rax. Let’s just think about this, okay?” She smiled shakily up at the tall Barabel who had already poised his fist ready to lay another punch on her. Her hands felt around the edge of the cuffs for anything, fingers finally settling on a screw which wiggled under her grip. Idiots, she thought. “You’re a merc, right? Which means you can be bought?” Rax’s head tilted at this, ___’s eager smile and talk of credits distracting him for the time being.

“Empire pays me good.” He snapped out of his intrigue for a moment, punching ___ round the face yet again. Her tongue traced her bleeding lip, blood beginning to drip down onto her shirt. Her patience was running thin, but her fingers couldn’t work any faster as she tried to unscrew the damned screw. The sound of gunfire drew nearer.

“But there is no Empire, Rax. Not anymore. You know that.” She spoke to the reptile as if he were a child, but somehow she knew this was the way to get through to him. “The Empire have nothing, and The Client,” ___ laughed. “He’s not got enough credits for the clothes on his back let alone your paycheck.” Rax frowned at this, the grey scales of his brow contorting. “They are gonna cut you off, Rax. And you’ll be left...with nothing.”

Rax thought for a moment; long and hard. But something stirred within him. “You lie!” He roared, bringing his fists up above his head, ready to smash down onto to ___’s skull. But before he could lay the lethal blow, ___ felt the cuffs detach from the chair, allowing her to leap from her seat and onto the floor.

It took Rax a moment to realize he hadn’t just squashed ___ into thin air, giving her time to leap onto her feet, all the while her hands remained bound behind her back. The Barabel was overcome with a newfound rage as he looked at the woman before him, hot air almost steaming out of his nostrils. ___’s eyes widened as he plucked a dagger from his thigh, blade twinkling in the shaft of light. “Now, now, Rax... Let’s not do anything- rash!” ___ managed to dodge the first swipe, leaping on her tiptoes to the other corner of the room. “Rax, calm down...”

“Stop talking!” Rax yelled, pure rage in his eyes as he bounded towards ___. Thinking on her feet, ___ ran partially along the wall, pushing off just as Rax charged at her and kicking him in the face. She breathed out as he fell to the floor, but her face quickly fell as he stumbled back up again.

“Oh, shit-” Her grumble was cut off as Rax swung his dagger violently, ___ bending almost backwards as she tried to avoid it. At one point her foot caught a loose rock, making her lose her balance. In the time it took her to regain it, Rax had taken a swipe and caught her cheek, the searing pain making her grunt. “Did I ever tell you how dumb the name Rax is?” She hissed, thoroughly pissed now.

The insult only fueled Rax’s rage more, and she only just managed to roll out of the way of his fury. “Stop moving!” His voice tore through the walls as he threw the dagger in anger.

___ yelled out in pain as it lodged itself into her shoulder. She looked down at the hilt and then back to Rax, who seemed to admire his aim with smugness. Glaring at the Barabel, ___ took the leather-wrapped hilt in between her teeth, pulling it out in one swift tug. A strained groan left her mouth as the sensation rippled through her, but she kept her focus. Her tongue manoeuvred the dagger so that it faced forward, her teeth clenching down hard. “Come on, big boy.” She spat, words muffled slightly by the weapon in her mouth.

Rax seemed shocked, eyes wide as he processed her words before he returned to his natural pissed mindset. With a low grunt, Rax started to charge towards ___ who stood her ground, waiting until he was only a few feet in front of her before swinging her leg around, boot smashing into the side of his head.

He fell to the ground with a discombobulated groan, head dizzy. In the time it took him to process what was going on, ___ had straddled him. "W-Wha- ah!" Rax yelled as ___ brought the dagger down into his eye, pushing with her mouth until his body fell limp.

The sound of a blaster hitting the ground made her head snap up, eyes falling on none other than the Mandalorian. "Din," She beamed, shakily standing up and running over to him. Din caught her in his arms, holding her to his chest as he basked in her being. "Din, you shouldn' have come. It's a trap." She breathed out, energy depleted entirely as the pain from her injuries finally began to surface.

Din took notice of the slight slur of her words and gripped her arms, pulling her back so he could take in her injuries. His gloved hand ghosted over the cut on her left cheek, his other hand gently caressing the bruised and swollen right side. Blood had crusted in her hair, a lone trickle which had dropped down the side of her head now brown as it dried. His thumb traced her lip, still bleeding. He wouldn't have noticed the wound on her shoulder if it weren't for the red which seeped into the white of her shirt. "You're hurt."

He knew how dumb that sounded, but it's all he could fathom. ___ chuckled, relishing in his tender touch. "You should see the other guy." Oh, I have, he wanted to say. But no words came out. He just smiled in relief behind his visor as he took in the sight of her, as beaten and dishevelled as she may be. A soft silence fell over them as they took a minute to take in each other, the fact that they both stood alive being quite a miracle. The sound of distant yelling, however, brought them from their admiring. ___ turned, flashing her conjoined hands to Din, fingers wiggling for emphasis. “Get me outta these things, huh, spaceboy?”

Din got to work immediately; fiddling with his micro-probe until the cuffs dropped loose from her wrists and onto the floor. ___ smiled up at him, taking in her newfound mobility before throwing her arms around his broad shoulders, this time able to hug him back. Her head nestled within the crook of his helmet and shoulder only momentarily before Din pulled -albeit reluctantly- away. “Come on, we should be able to get back to the ship without them seeing us.” He poked his head out the door, scanning the carnage outside the small hut they were currently in. ___ was quick to follow until she skidded to a halt in front of him. “___, what are you doing?”

“My blaster,” She exclaimed, returning back to Rax’s body which lay dormant on the floor. With a heave, she managed to roll the mass over, fishing out her DL-44 from the back of his trousers. “Aha!”

Din wouldn’t admit that he found the action incredibly endearing, instead, he masked it with an impatient wave of his hand, beckoning her over. “We need to hurry before they get reinforcements.”

“It’s the shitstains of the Empire, they don’t have reinforcements.” ___ scoffed, walking straight past Din and out into the open. Din stood still, watching in disbelief as she turned the corner, only for her to casually return in a matter of seconds. “Okay, so they have reinforcements...”

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Easy on the stabbing there, Din.” She hissed as Din pulled the needle through her skin for the fourth time. “You know maybe if you took the gloves off it would be easier?”

Din sighed, head tilting in a way that ___ knew he was raising his eyebrow at her. She returned his gaze with an eyebrow raise of her own, the usual battle of stubbornness commencing. As usual, ___ won. Din slipped off his gloves, placing them neatly next to the med box before picking up the needle again. ___ was silent this time as he stitched up her cheek with much more ease and practice. “You’re burning holes into my head, ___.” Din said without even glancing away from the needle and thread.

___ hummed, not particularly ashamed in being caught staring; it was just his visor after all. She liked to imagine what he looked like. She had a vague idea, from what he had told her. That, and she had traced every inch of his face with both her fingers and her lips. She just couldn’t help but picture it; morphing each time she glanced away into another form. Her favourite was the image of him she imagined fleetingly; dark hair and darker eyes. “I like it when you take your gloves off.” She said softly, still looking straight into him. “Your hands are the only part of you I can touch without closing my eyes.” Her smile was gentle, but also sad. Din knew she didn’t resent him for his religion. She supported him in every way, but he knew how hard it was for her not to look him in the eye, not when he had that privilege himself. He longed for her to look into his eyes and see the way he looked at her, with so much love and adoration...not that he would ever admit to that.

He snipped the thread after finishing up the stitch, putting the scissors and needle down onto the table next to them both. He watched her for a moment, staring right back at her before his bare hand reached up to her bruised cheek. She relished in his touch, cancelling out the light pain the pressure caused and closed her eyes, but only for a moment. They opened when he brought his other hand up to wipe away the dried blood from her nose and lip, tenderly dabbing the areas with a damp cloth, all whilst keeping his hand on her cheek. After a few moments of peace, Din awkwardly muttered: “...you should get some grog on that cut.”

___ groaned dramatically, standing up from her chair and hauling herself to the other side of the ship where the cot hovered. “Way to ruin the moment, spaceboy.” She teased, smirking to herself as Din quickly put away the medical supplies in a flurry. He always reached the point where it was too much and his rational thoughts and senses flew out the window and into the vast nothing of space. ___ did that to him. “How’s the kid been, anyway?” She said, changing the subject so he wouldn’t get too embarrassed. The cot opened with a hiss to reveal the sleeping creature, blissfully unaware of the shameless (on ___’s end, at least) flirting going on outside the steel doors between his parents.

“He’s been asleep the whole day,” Din informed her from across the ship as he placed the medkit back in its rightful place. “good thing too, he would’ve been a handful if he realized you were missing.” ___’s finger traced the soft green skin gently as a warm smile graced her face. Din watched in awe at her tenderness towards the green baby, and found a smile of his own reaching his face. “___,” Her head instinctively turned, but it immediately whipped back as she noticed his hands on the bottom of his helmet, ready to take it off. He didn’t need to tell her to close her eyes, she knew, even before the hiss his helmet made when he took it off, or the clunk that echoed as he placed it on the table. Even before his footsteps slowly made their way towards her and the baby, and even before his bare hand lightly touched her neatly bandaged shoulder.

He guided her to face him by lightly gripping her chin, entirely at his mercy as she turned away from the baby. She could feel the heat from his breath, her hands instinctively moving to cup his cheeks, basking in the warmth of flesh beneath her fingertips. Soft tendrils of hair tickled her fingers as she moved her hands down and to the back of his neck. “What’s my prognostic, doc?”

Her jest made Din chuckle, a glorious sound that wasn’t masked by his visor. It was a warm sound, not the robotic jargon that usually came out, and ___ could feel it against her chest. “I’d say you’ve had one helluva ass-kicking; busted lip, busted nose, stab wound on the shoulder and cheek,” he listed teasingly, enjoying the laugh that escaped ___’s lips. “But I think you’ll pull through.” He said, much softer this time. ___ wanted to open her eyes, to be able to see the warm smile that adorned his face as he looked down at her. But for now, she could settle for the softness of his lips as they met hers, mindful of her cut.

His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest as hers wrapped around his neck entirely so that their bodies were as close as they could possibly be. Din allowed the kiss to deepen, the affection being lacking as of late due to the influx of near-death experiences and quick getaways. He only pulled away when he could feel himself getting lost, a groan leaving his mouth as ___ traced his lip with her tongue and pulled on the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thanks for saving me back there, spaceboy.” She whispered against his lips, foreheads touching each other.

Din laughed quietly, smile wide as he pressed another kiss to her lips. “Seems to me that you didn’t need saving.” ___ shrugged her shoulders, acting coy as she debated his reply.

“Mmm...Maybe,” Din shook his head at her antics with a grin. “But it sure as hell beat bein’ stuck out there alone.” She sighed in content as she rested her head against his chest, Din’s chin settling on the top of her head as they held each other close. “Besides, these scars will make me look badass.” Din breathed out a laugh into her hair. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me! I killed a Barabel with, might I add, my hands bound!” She protested, pulling away so she could frown up at him, eyes still closed which only made the situation more humorous to Din. “I tell ya, the things I put up with for you, spaceboy...”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x ofc #mandalorian #star wars imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you

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pact-mom-kyrie · 4 years

Text

Hey after a year I wrote a thing. I called it “Brooding nerds“ because is about Alesso (sniper, priest of Grenth) being broody after the event of Hall of Chains. He got some weird powers because hey, he had been dead once before, in Queensdale. He feels alienated. Fron his brothers, from the guild, from everything. So his brother Enzo (mesmer, nerd) goes to talk to him.

Shout out to @disaster-bi-canach for always being there. I mention her main Sinéad here. Go and read all her stuff. Is really good.

Also HAPPY FANFIC DAY!!!

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The nights on Istan were cold, or at least the wind blowing up Champion’s Dawn made him feel like it. The little town was gleaming under the moonlight, pretty like a painting with Churrhir cliffs beyond.

This was the ancient homeland, thought Alesso. Or at least part of it. He was not knowledgeable enough about the story of Zephaniah, he has bearely heard the story of his ancestor, the man he had only known as Zephare. The only thing he knew for sure was what Koss had said to him: “Another touched by the gods?! By Dwayna, never knew a child of Zephaniah could get this pale, huh?”

Somehow it hurt. But he didn’t say anything. Koss seemed like the kind of nosy grandpa he had never known. Salva noticed though and glared at the old man. Somehow the judgmental gaze of sweet, kind Salvatore made him feel guilty, or at least act like it.

It felt nice, but it was not enough to make him feel better.

That was the reason behind him being sit down, brooding on his own in a cliff, reaper-forged rifle by his side. He had given the excuse of going up just to shoot any awakened that dared come close to the town. But there were none, otherwise, he would have seen them walking through the plains or the breach… that was kilometers away.

Such accuracy was unnatural.

“The eyes of a god” Maesta said while they were in the Priory. He only thought it was about the fact that now they shone like embers, but he realized soon enough that it was something more terrible than that.

When he shot an awakened soldier.

From the cliffs.

With his eyes closed.

“Now you’re just fuckin’ cheatin’ partner” Exclaimed Johnny, his voice a mixture of anger and excitement.

Alesso knew that yeah, he was cheating. But he couldn’t stop it. He had been dead twice, and that allowed him to gain some weird boon, and it felt extremely weird. After all, who else could say they had held a tiny bit of that kind of power?

All of sudden, a portal appeared by his side, and from its glimmering depths, a figure appeared. Tall and aristocratic.

“Good evening, little brother, nice weather for alienated brooding isn’t it?” Lorenzo has managed, after all their years as adventurers, perfected the art of princely sneer. Alesso glared at him, but could only mumble a weak curse. Years ago, he would have said “Yeah, fuck you”, and close himself up. But not now. Not like before.

“Don’t you have an entire observatory to read? Or did you run out of paper for interviewing zombie grandpa?”

The mesmer almost laughed, but he just gasped as if scandalized “Don’t call Koss Dejarin like that, young man” he faked the intonation of a scolding mother “he is not your grandpa!”

Alesso snorted, his devilish laughter barely escaping his lips “So you’re accepting he is a zombie, right?”

“Well, to be honest...” Enzo got lost in thought for a second, half-joking, half-serious “Awakened have peculiar characteristics, and have different needs from other types of risen-type creature, so they belong to their own category in Howard’s classification of unde-”

“You fucking nerd” The sniper rolled his eyes, huffing slightly “Whatever, tell everyone I’m ok, just thinking of stuff and… stuff”

The redhead sighed deeply and sat down, looking slightly distraught. “Oh no, I came here because I am worried, you little twerp. You’ve been way too quiet and sullen. That is not normal”

“What is normal then?” Claimed Alesso, wiggling a bit far from his brother. He was slightly scared, not ready to face any of his siblings, and tried to mask his fear with annoyance.

It wasn’t working.

“You being with us, smiling when no one looks, competing with Johnny over shots, praying for the fallen of Elona, just...” Enzo looked down, into the town “not like this, not as if we still were the same idiots running around Queensdale”

Alesso winced. Queensdale. It had been five years, it used to feel like a month ago, and now it felt like yesterday.

“Gyro behaved the same when I came back this time. He checked my pulse, he looked at my pupils, almost asked me for a blood test, as if he believed I was… as if I am-”

“You are not dead, Alessandro Zeppeli” The voice of Enzo broke a bit as if he was trying not to sob “You re here, with us. Still the same fool that tried to wrestle a spider queen, still the same child that broke into the home of Thomas Silvertogue to learn how to be a spy”

Those words felt like a knife stabbing his heart. Lorenzo was not the kind of man who broke easily, even if his emotions were there for everyone to see. It was not simple nostalgia, but a sort of awed reminiscence, and Alesso could not help to feel it too.

“I’m scared” He murmured. It would have been better if he didn’t remember the last time he had said that. The sight of the ashes of Commander Steinbrecher in an urn, the greatest hero of all Tyria, had sunken his heart into the abyss of terror.

“I know” Enzo replied softly “The letter you gave me. Maesta… she wrote about everything”

Alesso lowered his head, feeling smaller. Silent in his own uncertainty. He had a snarky comment ready, but he felt too tired to say it. He was tired of hiding his thoughts behind the words of an asshole.

His brother sighed “You didn’t read it” It was not a question “You had a letter from a noble of Kryta, an agent of the Shining Blade, and didn’t even peek under the seal, knowing it may have some valuable intel. Thank you”

“What? She is my friend. Besides I don’t know if she had enchanted it or something” the thief tried to explain, not ready to show how much he cared about their relationship “Also I don’t wanna read the correspondence of someone whom actually thinks you are hot enough to fuck”

Lorenzo scoffed, no doubt rolling his eyes. “There were no details of that kind if you are interested, dear brother. Actually...” His tone changed to a more solemn one “She was asking for an explanation about… the way I said goodbye in Lion’s Arch”

The sniper raised his gaze. That was not a good memory, if anything, it was extremely awkward to remember Enzo being a jerk towards anyone, more so the woman he loved. “Did she break up with you via letter? I mean you mocked her for being emotional...”

“I am perfectly aware of what I did and I am ready to face punishment for my actions” Once more, the princely manners return “but that is not the point, as a matter of fact, the letter made me realize that we have something in common”

“That we deserve a slap for being assholes in serious moments?” Alesso raised an eyebrow, cringe clawing his heart. Enzo looked surprised, not ready for such a display of painful self-awareness.

“No, not that. Maybe a bit of that, but this is something completely different. Something we cannot… solve, so to speak” Enzo looked above them, gazing at the starry sky, “She wrote you were given a portion of Grenth’s power. As well as she did, but since you’ve been to his realm twice, your abilities got… stronger”

The eyes of a god. The reason for his accuracy, his eyes changing, now gleaming in the darkness.

“Here is the question, Alesso: do you think you’re the only one who has felt the power of a god running through his blood?” It was a serious question. Way too precise. He would have expected it from Salva, or from Commander Sirhasi, but not Lorenzo. Then again, he had the bad habit of underestimating Lorenzo.

“I think so. I am the only one who has been so close to the gods...” he stated with unnerving confidence “Damn now I feel like an arrogant little shit”

“Well you arrogant little shit!” the mesmer exclaimed joyfully, opening his arms “You are SO wrong I could write a whole treatise on how wrong you are. But since I love you so much, I will give you a short version: I have felt the power of a god too, and it was fucking awful”

And so, Alessandro Zeppeli, a descendant of the house of Zephaniah, Lightbringer of the Order of Whispers, opened his mouth and gasped like a fish out of water. Because he had no idea what his brother was talking about.

“W- what? When? Why?!” He almost yelled, more confused than ever. He looked all around him, somehow waiting for someone to appear, to confirm it was all a joke at his expense.

“Do you remember the battle in Lion’s Arch against the minions of Zhaitan?”

How would he forget that? He had spent days with Ihan and Joseph cleaning the city, trying to heal his sadness with risen’s blood. Until Commander Sirhasi asked if he was alright and he ended up crying like the child he was into the norn woman’s bosom.

“Yes, that face tells me that you do” Enzo whispered. Maybe lost in his own memories of those awful times. “Steward Gixx told Magisters Irene and Gialinn to help him with a relic of Balthazar. He thought that someone had to wield its power and since it was a human god...”

“It had to be a human, and there were no other nerds close to you” he muttered.

“Yes. I had to carry a part of the spirit of a god of fire, fury, and mass murder. As powerful as I felt, it was not a good experience. I thought nothing of it later, just a weird experience in an extremely hard time. Until Balthazar returned..” he lowered his head, while Alesso put the pieces together in his head.

“Whatever remained of the fucker within you, resonated with him, then” The sniper stated, only understanding the implications a second later “So your behavior, the fire that sometimes escaped from your illusions… that was Balthazar...”

Enzo nodded “Yes. One time I spat molten embers, one night I cried fire, and sometimes I just wanted to kill someone. Anyone. And I hid it all from everyone but my colleagues of the Priory”

“Well shit, even I didn’t saw that coming, except the part when you almost scared Cesare to death, of course,” Alesso looked at his brother, making him recoil slightly “Did you use your illusions to hide? Because you are good, but not that good”

“You rude prick. I happen to be that good” Lorenzo sneered “I was scared of any of you realizing it, I didn’t want you t think I was going to join the Zaishen or something like that”

Alesso moved closer to his brother “I get it... but if there was anyone of us who would have joined that prick, it would have been anyone but you” he saw the mesmer smiling, moved by his trust “After all, the stick in your ass wouldn’t let you bend the knee towards that monster”

“Fuck off” the strange laughter of Enzo pierced the night, sounding like a weird harpy in the cliffs “The point is: you are not alone, dumbass. Your god loved you. Maybe all that happened is sad, and I cannot imagine how you feel about it but...” He sighed and hugged Alesso from the side “You are still out little brother. The one who creeps us out because he looks a lot like dad. You’re part of the best and strongest guild in Tyria. The weirdest guy of the whole Pact...”

Now it was the turn of Alesso to laugh, like a tiny devil mocking Champion’s Dawn “I get it, you old cheesy geezer” He returned the hug, and felt his loneliness fading away “Thank you, really”

“I know, I am amazing. You are welcome” The fake pride of Lorenzo was even worse than his stupid smile, and he knew it “No, but in all seriousness, it is alright. You can tell me every time you feel bad about your existential crisis, at least regarding your godly issues. You’re my brother, and we are very similar....”

“Ew. Don’t remind me that. Makes me wanna hide under a rock” Alesso broke the hug, stood up, and took his rifle before looking up to the sky, smiling “Maybe Grenth is gone but... I feel I can still carry his will as long as I am with you, my family... bunch of losers”

Lorenzo also stood up, stretching his back “You better. Without you, we wouldn’t be as good as we are. Also, I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my main familial obligation without you”

Knowing what kind of obligation he was talking about, Alesso sneered and said a single sentence. “To keep Cesare humble? Alright. Seems all this ‘Hero of Three Nations’ thing has started to go to his head, do you have a plan?”

The redhead smiled, malice covering his face “Oh yes, it includes portals. Lots of portals” he stated while opening one by their side.

“I may have an idea, but you lead the way”

The two brothers entered the shimmering pond of light, and for a moment there was nothing but peaceful silence in Istan.

Until the shriek of a heroic guardian pierced the night.

#Them Boys #Alessandro Zeppeli #Lorenzo Zeppeli #My writing

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only-by-the-stars · 3 years

Text

the annotated Tome of the Wild

Part 7: The Wild!

- Link didn't open his eyes. A twist on the beginning of BOTW, where you hear Zelda telling Link to open his eyes. I couldn’t resist.

- Hestu’s cameo was a lot of fun to write too. I always found him adorable, first in BOTW and then in AOC as well, and the idea of him waking up Link with his maracas was too amusing not to do. I also had to include his “shimmy shimmy” battle cry from AOC because I always laugh my head off whenever I hear it.

- This also reveals that Midna brought Link to the Great Deku Tree, a character that debuted in OOT and made further appearances in WW and BOTW.

- Something tickled her arm, breaking her out of her gloomy thoughts. Midna lifted her head and looked down. New growth was sprouting from the branch she was sitting on, wriggling its way up onto her. Nothing like this happens to Beatrice in the show, but I had to put in this chilling little moment of Midna nearly succumbing to the dekuwood. It provides a way later to introduce Rhoam’s presence in his scene, as well as some horror at what could’ve happened to her here.

- Note to self: never visit Tabantha if you can help it... Tabantha, of course, being a very cold region in BOTW’s Hyrule. Link’s newfound hatred of snow mirrors my own, and now he’s going to associate it with this horrible experience.

- “It's a bad habit, I guess.” He laughed softly. He’s referring, of course, to how he casually greeted Riju and Medli back at the school pool and they gave him a bit of a hard time about it.

- “You...” Midna stared at him for several seconds, stunned. “You...” She slapped his hand away and starting swinging her tiny fists at him, which he easily dodged. “You oaf! You idiot! What the hell—what the hell is wrong with you? How can you forgive me so easily, when you're still in a shit situation because of me? Neither one of us would be out here groping around blindly in the fucking snow if not for what I did!” I set up Midna and Link to be parallels of each other in a couple ways. One of which is that while Link has isolated himself from Mipha, hurting and confusing her, Midna is on the other end of something similar with Zelda. And here we see something they both struggle with: forgiving themselves. Midna can’t understand how Link can so easily forgive her actions towards him, while Link utterly despises himself for his actions towards Mipha and cannot forgive himself for causing her pain. He’ll later struggle with the fact that Mipha forgives him easily, just as Midna is having trouble understanding his forgiveness of her here. All of them find it easier to forgive their loved ones than to grant that same grace to themselves.

- “She told me that while she appreciated how much I cared, I should think a little more and be less reckless. I know she'd never call me stupid, but...” Link shrugged. “Honestly, I kind of am.” Another reference to Mipha calling Link reckless, and how she hates seeing him get hurt. He is indeed not the smartest guy around, but she does describe him as being very kind and determined to help those in need, so I tried to emphasize that aspect of his personality in this story. Although the “I kind of am” line is also intended to be a subtle red flag. We’ve already seen that Link thinks very little of himself and his abilities, even when it’s clear from the words of others that he’s very talented. And we’re about to soon see him use a bit of intelligence he very much does have, in order to save the day. He would never believe himself capable of such a thing, but he does it anyway.

- “Even just a few branches could be processed... enough to get us through this storm...” Note the use of the plural here. This is leading up to the revelation about his belief that Zelda is in the lantern. His desperation to find more oil anywhere is because, of course, he believes that if the light goes out she will die. And he wouldn’t be in this scarcity if not for what happened back in chapter one, with Link and Aryll and the dog accidentally wrecking the mill and his oil supply.

- He was soon rewarded with a most welcome sight: a single dekuwood branch, growing out of that of a normal tree. It seemed sickly, withered, and it waved feebly in the air, but he rushed forward and hacked it off anyway. The very same branch that tried to attach itself to Midna, sickly and withered precisely because of that failure.

- And now we come to the confirmation that the dekuwood is made from the people who succumb to despair and exhaustion in the woods, right as we see it growing all around Aryll. Rhoam has been unaware this entire time of all the souls he’s sacrificed over the past several months, and now that he knows, he refuses to do it any longer. For he, like Midna, recognizes that Zelda would never want anyone to be harmed for her sake.

He’s also right that Link would never leave Aryll to such a fate, recognizing Link’s love and protectiveness towards his little sister. This is a point where my characterization of Link wildly diverges from that of Wirt, the protagonist of OTGW. I pulled some things from Wirt for Link and his arc, but one thing I didn’t keep was the resentment and initial callousness that Wirt displays for Greg, who is revealed in the tavern sequence to be his half-brother thanks to his mother remarrying, something Greg frowns at when Wirt mentions it. Aryll is also technically Link’s half-sister, as I revealed in the letters that his mother remarried some years after his father’s death and had Aryll with her new husband, but I could not for the life of me see him being resentful or unkind to his little sister. Whatever his faults, I’ve written him as being, at his core, an incredibly kind and deeply loving person, and his adoration of his sister is a part of that. He doesn’t view her as a “half” anything, she’s just his sister and he’ll do anything to protect her. Which of course is a big part of what led to his breakdown: his feelings of guilt over not doing as good a job of that as he thinks he should be doing.

- “Link, I don't... I don't think that's natural light. It looks more like...” This has a double meaning. The fire in the lantern is not the “natural light” of the sun, and it is also deeply unnatural, given that it’s the Beast’s soul in there.

- Speaking of that! The confrontation with the Beast plays out a bit differently here than it does in the show, thanks to Midna’s personal connection to all this. Rhoam’s mention of Zelda gets her attention, and the Beast uses her love for Zelda as a way to try and turn her and Link against each other with his attempt to make them choose which soul will go into the lantern. He’ll get fuel and kill Aryll either way, but why not pit these two against each other as a way to manipulate them into doing what he wants? Except it backfires, because Midna won’t harm anyone for Zelda’s sake, and Link figures out what’s going on anyway, thanks to remembering the words of Rhoam and Telma.

- Link stood up, his mind racing. It was like when the solution to a puzzle finally presented itself in a moment of stunning clarity. For all that he’s not that bright in so many ways, it’s important to remember that he’s canonically able to solve all those tricky puzzles we do, without benefit of a guide, just using his wits and the tools he has at hand. And so too does he solve this particular puzzle, by remembering what he’s been told and piecing it together with what he sees here, thinking about the fact that the Beast’s story doesn’t add up. Which saves the day, in the end.

- “Am I wrong?” Link repeated, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury; he took a few more steps, forcing the Beast to retreat further. “No more lies. Tell the truth for once, Beast.” Referencing, of course, the fact that Telma told him the Beast lies. He’s absolutely furious right now because of the attempt on Aryll’s life; you do not mess with Link’s loved ones. The Beast, too, fucked around and found out the hard way.

- In the show, Wirt gives the lantern back to the Woodsman to blow out after the delivery of the “Are you?” line that I kept (and had Link nail the delivery of on his first try, unlike Wirt, because that’s what makes sense for both their characters). Here, I chose to let Link kill the Beast, because he is, after all, the legendary hero who slays the villain. But even more importantly, I felt he deserved and had earned such a moment with his growing courage over the course of the tale.

- “See you later, Link.” Hey, remember how Midna broke all our hearts by saying a similar line to Link in TP as she broke the mirror and went back to her world? I sure do!

- “Sleepers wake, dreams will fade... although we cling fast..." This, and the lyrics that close out this section, are the first few lines of the vocal version of Ballad of the Wind Fish that was done for the LA remake.

- There were lights and shadowy figures coming closer, and voices—was someone calling his name? As I would later reveal in the prologue of a place to start, Mipha was screaming his name as she ran down the hill towards him.

- The words he wanted so badly to say to her hung on the tip of his tongue And it shows on his face, that desire to express the love for her that is all but bursting out of him in this moment, and Mipha sees it. She sees that love shining in his eyes as they stare at each other, giving her her hope back and then some. In a way, Link was right: if he hadn’t hidden from her, she would’ve realized what his real feelings for her are. He just didn’t know how happy it would’ve made her. But he will soon.

- “—and that's how we got away from the evil possessed lady!” Out of the corner of his eye Link saw Aryll shake the frog triumphantly, and Mipha, distracted by the sudden commotion, looked away from him. A small, muffled chime sounded, and the amphibian's stomach glowed. “The ringing of the bell commanded her! Though she wasn't really evil, just...” The series is never clear on just what the otherworld the brothers enter is, but it is clear that it really happened to them, and I preserved that ambiguity in the same way, by showing the bell as still being in the frog’s stomach.

- Link nodded. “Yes.” It didn't matter anymore how it'd gotten into her pocket; he'd made it, and brought it with him tonight, with the intention of giving it to her. There was no more question of taking it back or denying it. Courage has been achieved; he’s no longer going to hide or pretend, or try to take back the gift he worked on so hard. Midna is right: he’s been so brave in the Wild, and it’s time to apply that bravery to confessing his feelings to Mipha and letting her know that he loves her. The words will have to wait till the next day, but for now he’s doing all he can to face his fears and stop running, by hugging her and holding her hand and wiping her tears away, letting his love show in his expression as he looks at her without avoiding her eyes. Plus, of course, admitting to his intentions with the tape and inviting her over to listen to it together. They’re finally getting a breakthrough after two months of separation and pain.

- The doctor, Syrup, is a recurring NPC throughout the series, a witch who brews up helpful healing potions for Link to use on his adventures.

- I'm home, Mipha. Calling back, of course, to Midna’s line about there being someone waiting for him and to go home to her. Not only that, but in Mipha’s letters, I had her mention wanting him to “come back to her”. And now he finally has.

and that wraps this up, as the epilogue is composed strictly of Miphlink fluff and sweet, sweet payoff. if you took the time to read the fic and these write ups, thank you, I hope you enjoyed them! ❤

#annotations #and happy zelda anniversary!

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bunslakes-artblog · 5 years

Text

Yo, time for some more additions to my “how to hurt Kirishima” text collection

A while ago I posted a longass textpost with kiribaku themed little snippets of stories, scenes, and general ideas and scenarios. This is more of that! This time it’s even angstier and a couple of them are actually kinda gore-y so watch out for that if that’s not your cup of tea. I’ll write out a warning before those. Stories under the cut!

This is a sort of alternate route for how the kamino rescue could’ve turned out, if Kirishima hadn’t been able to convince any of the others to come with him.

No one showed up. He hadn't expected many, but at least Todoroki had felt like a safe bet. Of course he couldn't blame them, never his friends. This was such a stupid, dangerous and impulsive idea after all. But he HAD to.

So he went alone.

It's a big city. How was he supposed to find anything in here? He was so stupid, how did he think he could do anything by himself? Everything feels hopeless and the minutes are ticking by in a terrifying speed, one by one.

But he keeps going. He HAS to.

It's so overwhelming. The situation. The stakes. The fear.

He's pressed against a wall, holding his breath, trying to stop his body from shaking like a leaf in the wind. He's so close, but fuck. If he's seen now he will die. There's no question about it, they are too many, too strong. He wouldn't even have time to take a step. But Bakugou. He's in the middle of it all, still fighting. Not trembling, pressed against some rubble, frozen in fear. He's out there, wild, Alive.

For now.

Kirishima can see the muscles in his arms twitch from the strain of quirk overuse.

Time is running out.

And yet he still can't move. He's alone. Nailed in place by the humongous, almost primal, raw feel of fear. Fear for himself, what will happen if he acts. What will happen if he don't.

And suddenly there's no time left to doubt. He hears the zing of metal cutting through the air. Something splashing on the ground, and the short, hoarse cry. That blade cannot reach its target a second time.

A loud clash is heard this time as the knife search for its target, followed by a yelp of surprise from its wielder. With hardened arms still raised in defense, he forces his voice to work, throat yet again tight with fear.

"Bakugou- ..Help.."

And he does. The brief distraction Kirishima's sudden appearance had caused gave Bakugou enough time to let out an enormous blast, big enough to put up a smokescreen that would shield their escape.

Except that it didn't happen like that. Of course not. Kirishima was alone. With no plan. No strategy. Unfitting quirk. Useless. But he HAD to act.

So his friends had to watch on the TV, screaming as they saw a familiar red flash of hair, the red belonging to the one they had denied, refused to cooperate with. Refused to help. They didn't think he'd go by himself. But of course he had. Of course.

They had to watch him get mauled by the villains the second he'd made himself visible, just as they'd been about to aim a finishing blow towards the snarling blonde.

Hands hardened around wrists, ankles, anything they could grab. Holding them still like a vise, forcing them to focus their attacks on him, and noone else. It burnt, it stung, it HURT. But he had to.

"EIJIROU"

He understood. And hardened even more, bracing himself.

The explosion had taken time to build up, and it showed by its mere size and power as it sent the closest villains flying, the ones further away pushed back. More than enough for bakugo to grab the torn, smoking and, he gulped, slightly sizzling shape on the ground and blast off, leaving a free space for all might to go all out.

____________________________________________

This one is sort of a continuation of the previous that I wrote way after the first one. Here I focus more on the theme and repeating phrase, making it more experimental I suppose.

I didn't want you to be here alone"

Those words rang through his head, over and over as he sat by the hospital bed. The words had been forced out, almost whimpered with a voice close to cracking. They had saved him.

They had flooded his body with strength after having been close to breaking down from exhaustion, arms twitching from the strain and breaths heavy and shallow, forehead dripping with sweat.

Kirishima's eyes had been wider that he'd ever seen them before, shiny and filled with terror. But they had been steady, so solid.

His rock.

His sudden appearance had thrown Bakugou's attackers off rhythm a bit, and it had given him a much needed second to breathe and rearrange his thoughts. With a shaky blast, he's thrown himself over to Kirishima.

"Kirish- how- what the FUCK are you doing here??!" he'd hissed, voice raw and gravely with all the intense emotions going on.

And then Kirishima had said those words. So terribly, terribly honest and sincere. So simple, but with such an enormous meaning. Bakugou's heart had felt like it had both frozen and swelled to its bursting point at the same time, chest filled with an indescribable emotion.

He'd wanted to grab the redhead, wrap him tightly in his arms and hug him flush against his own body just to feel that the other person was really there, really there in this awful awful place with him. FOR him.

But there was no time for such selfish things. Bakugou's attention had snapped to the approaching villains, feeling the panic gnawing in his chest. They were going to get him. Please no.

Then Kirishima had done the second incredible thing that evening. He'd takes Bakugou's trembling, sweaty hand in his own, equally trembling but warm and strong hand, and squeezed it tight. And that did everything. Now Bakugou could see. Now he could think. Now he could do anything.

The fight was a blur to his emotionally raw mind, but he remembered how different it was now compared to when he was alone. They knew each other, knew each other's movements, didn't even need to talk. It had been such a relief.

But these were real villains. Strong ones. And they were exhausted, scared, and 16.

About 45 seconds in, Kirishima had taken a hit for him. It had been fast, unexpected and HARD. Bakugou wouldn't had survived it, the battle would have been over. He hadn't even seen it coming. But Kirishima, his rock, had. And he'd stopped it.

The impact had sent both parties flying in opposite directions, and that created their opening. Their chance to escape. No, to WIN. Win by not letting those assholes reach their goal, which was them.

Grabbing Kirishima, hoisting him up over his shoulder in one not-so-swift motion, he let out two enormous, concentrated explosions that had let them both take off, away from this hell.

They had landed a couple blocks away, Bakugou letting out a final blast to ease their landing, before crashing down into the street. He'd dropped Kirishima, himself following shortly after as his legs folded in on themselves under him in fatigue. On his knees, panting, he looked over the the redhead, managing to squeeze out a skew smile.

"You idiot.. we could've both died".

He waited for the other to weakly lift his head from the asphalt, look over to him and fire off one of his signature warm smiles and tell him something about having to do the "manly thing".

But Kirishima wasn't breathing.

Bakugou's smile dropped.

"Bakugou-san? Don't you want to go back to your own bed? You should get proper rest after all that stress you've gone through".

Light fingers were gently touching his shoulder, and he jolted awake. Shit, he'd fallen asleep. He looked around, orienting himself in both room and thought. Right, the hospital. His eyes fell on the bed he'd been resting his head on in front of him. Kirishima's bed.

"Fuck off" he grunted, voice much more raspy and weak than it would've been in any normal situation.

The person who had woken him up, a nurse, sighed softly, walking around to the other side of the bed to take a closer look at one of the machines there. Bakugou's eyes followed her for a few seconds before snapping to the boy in said bed.

His hair was down, fanning out over the pillow around his sleeping face. Aside from a few shallow scratches, the face looked normal, mouth slightly open, exposing a few sharp teeth. Dark lashes hiding those sincere, reliable red eyes.

His arms laid resting upon his stomach which was gently rising in rhythm with his breathing, the breathing Bakugou was infinitely relieved was back to stable condition.

Under his hands were a hospital blanket, a blanket Bakugou knew covered the horrible wound that stretched across his whole body. The wound he'd gotten by taking that hit for him. Fuck. He'd almost died.

Kirishima almost DIED.

That minute before the pros had reached their landing spot with security and ambulances, that minute had been hell for Bakugou. Easily a hundred times worse than the entire fight they'd just escaped from. Kirishima wasn't breathing. He wasn't fucking breathing. This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. Not KIRISHIMA. Kirishima who had come to him. Who'd come ALONE, with no one to hold his hand. Just for Bakugou. So he wouldn't had to go through this alone. Like he'd had with the sludge villain. He'd come for him, been THERE with him.

His rock.

That wasn't breathing.

The pros had had to physically pry him away from Kirishima's limp body. He'd apparently been in shock, hysterically screaming at them to fuck off, trying to defend his friend but had been to confused and exhausted to do any real damage. He'd been swept away in one ambulance and Kirishima in another.

Bakugou had woken up in a hospital bed, abruptly and with an ice old stone in his stomach. The doctors had immediately swarmed his bed, and soon they had let him know his friends condition. He'd somehow convinced them to let him sit by the others bed, and there's where he'd been ever since, glued to the chair, fingers intertwined with his.

His rock.

____________________________________________

This is the first one that gets kinda gore-y. Not that indulging in juicy details, but might be uncomfortable to read if you’re sensitive to bones breaking and stuff like that. It is kinda silly and not very well written lol, I wrote it in the middle of the night if I rememebr right.

As usual there's a battle going on, and Kirishima and Bakugou has been fighting side by side until something happens that distracts Bakugou away from his partner for a while. Suddenly there's a loud rumble followed by a boom and then Kirishima can't be seen anywhere.

Bakugou finds him as the dust settles, nailed to the ground by more or less a wholeass building that's fallen on him, and he's fully hardened as to not get immediately crushed into soup.

He's so stuck in there it's literally impossible for anything less than a full team to get him out, and Bakugou is livid having to sit there unable to do anything when Kirishima is RIGHT THERE in front of him but could have just as well been miles away and still been just as reachable.

Kneeling on the ground as to be able to see underneath the rubble that's holding his friend captive, he does his very best to mutter encouragements and pleads for the other to keep going, stay hardened and endure until help arrived. But it's a lot to hold up, and Kirishima is tired. Being fully hardened is draining enough, but having to also hold up such monstrous weight is not helping in the slightest.

"Bakugou, I can't- it's so heavy"

A horrifying crack is heard as the boys quirk wavers for a split second causing the weight to squish down a bit more. Bakugou's pulse is going into overdrive from stress, fear and frustration. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. He can't let Kirishima get crushed like this.

"I- I don't want to die, but.. I really can't hold my whole body hardened any longer. I'm gonna have to- I'm gonna have to let something go.." the trapped boy gasps between forced breaths. Bakugou feels his chest going ice cold.

"Shit, you're not gonna-" he's interrupted by a wet crack and squish, followed by the most soul ripping, horrifyingly heart wrenching scream. Bakugou uselessly tries to lunge forward to get to his friend but of course he can't. He screams the prescious name over and over, panicking. Kirishima is breathing heavily through gritted teeth, face shiny with sweat.

A bit of blood is leaking out from under the rubble. He'd let go of his hardening on one of his legs.

Once he'd gotten his breath somewhat back in control, his now slightly dazed eyes met with Bakugou's once again.

"Fuck, Kiri.." he could see his vision starting to blur with tears building up. " You're so fucking strong, you can do this. You can't just let this lameass bullshit rock win. You-"

"Bakugou. I'm gonna have to do this again. I need to conserve and focus my last energy to keep my head and torso hardened if I don't want to die right now. But fu-"Kirishima stops to take a long shaky breath. " It really hurts. I don't know if I can take it without.."

"Don't you fucking dare pass out Eijirou. Don't you FUCKING dare." Bakugou's red eyes are glowing with fear. Kirishima releases a gaspy huff, maybe an attempt for a laugh, or maybe a sigh. It was impossible to tell.

"I'm gonna need help to.. to stay awake. To not drift away when the pain becomes.. overwhelming."

He doesn't get a chance to clarify before his eyes are nailed shut with a wince, immediately followed by another crack and stomach-turning squish.

"Fuck. FUCK. Please, please stay with me. You can do this, this is nothing, just listen to my voice and don't you dare drift away, you hear me?!" Bakugou screams out between sobs.

This repeats a few more times. The last one is the worst, when Kirishima is at the very end of his rope, letting the hardening go around his lower body and his pelvis snapping under the intense weight. That makes him scream louder and more distorted than any of the previous screams and Bakugou didn't think a human could produce such a sound. That time Kirishima almost passes out, but through screaming, pleading and an arm reached in under the rubble as far as possible, Bakugou manages to somehow keep him awake. The red puddle leaking out from under the rubble grows larger. Time is very much just about to run out.

Now the only things hardened left are the head, torso, and most of the stomach area, but not for much longer. Cracks are increasingly rapidly appearing in his face and he can no longer speak due to having his head so wedged between the ground and the rubble.

The story will either end with the rescuers making it just in time, or Bakugo hearing a faint whisper sounding something like "get your arm out of here" before the small space under the rubble thundered down like a beast snapping its jaws shut around its prey, erasing all evidence that someone had been there aside from the red puddle and a few red splatters across a shocked face.

____________________________________________

A shorter one coming up! And Kirishima doesn’t even get hurt in this one? woah..

It's Kirishima's first time visiting the Bakugou house. Katsuki and his mom gets into an argument almost immediately, as expected. Kirishima is concerned but doesn't say or do anything since this seems sadly quite normal for them, as their speech patterns seem to go on almost on autopilot, throwing harsh insults and criticism to each other while the dad sits quiet at his own corner of the table. The mood is tense and uncomfortable but then Katuki mutters something under his breath and Kirishima sees to his disbelief how Mitsukis arm raises above her son's head, preparing to strike.

She's barely started to swing down before her wrist is abruptly caught in motion. Due to the initial shock of having been stopped for the first time in forever makes her freeze. Her wrist is held in a vise-like grip, not tight as to hurt her, but so solid it's completely impossible to pry the rough, rock hard fingers off of her. The one holding her, the THING holding her, is standing in front of her son, her son who's standing there, wide eyes and equally as shocked as herself, eyes glued to the thing in front of him.

In his fury, Kirishima had gone full Unbreakable as he'd reached out to stop this woman from hitting her child. He knew it was overkill, to use his quirk at all, but his protective instinct had gone into overdrive when the woman had threatened what was so precious to him, and his body had reacted before his mind could catch up.

After what felt like forever of intense staring, Unbreakable's distorted sharp features morphed back into the soft, kind face it was supposed to be, the hand holding the wrist let go of it's iron grip, letting both arms fall to their respective sides.

"We're spending the weekend at my house, Katauki." he mutters as he gently grabs Katsukis hand and determinedly takes him out of the house.

Katsuki has never seen Kirishima's eyes so dark, heard his voice being that cold. His body is buzzing with... Something. He doesn't know what, but the hand holding his is warm and steady, and he knows he'll hold it until the end of the world.

I’m aware of the discourse surrounding Mitsuki. Is she a good parent who just got introduced in a shitty way, or is she abusive? I don’t carea bout the discourse and I enjoy reading both portrayals. In this particular portrayal she is abusive though.

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Okay! Time for the first gore-y one. Warning for blood, big wounds and mention of exposed guts.

There's a big battle, and the class has of course been right in the middle of it. Kirishima and Bakugou had gone off to the side, pursuing an especially nasty villain (read: Bakugou ran after while Kirishima tagged along yelling at him to keep with the group). Things were going alright until one wrong move was made and everything suddenly changed. Somehow, Bakugou found himself blown away, lost in a huge dust cloud. The villain they had been hunting was gone, and so was Kirishima. Or so he thought. Once the dust had cleared enough to see, he found Kirishima's characteristic shape laying on the ground among some rubble and glass shards. With an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, he'd ran over and once he got there, the world spun.

In Kirishima's abdomen was a more or less gaping hole, ominously pumping out a steady stream of blood. Bakugou's vision went fuzzy around the edges and he felt his knees buckle under him when the wet, shiny surface of exposed guts peeked through the slashed up skin. He fell to his knees next to his friend who was somehow still conscious.

"K-katsuki..?"

Kirishima's voice comes out gravely and wet. His breaths are so short and shallow. Bakugou's eyes snap to Kirishima's.

"Katauki, what happened? Where are w-" he grit his teeth as he winced. "Fuck, this really hurts". His gaze wanders down to inspect the damage on his body but Bakugou quickly, but oh so lightly, grabs his head and forces him to look back up at him.

"Don't- don't look" he manages to sputter out. But Kirishima already saw. The look in his eyes makes spoken words unnecessary. "This is really bad."

Blood is still flowing freely and Bakugou has to make a decision. Either wait and run the high risk of letting Kirishima bleed out, or do something about it himself. He's have to cauterize the wound.

"W- I..the blood.. we can't let it flow like that." He couldn't force the word out of his mouth, but Kirishima seemed to understand.

He can't. He just can't. This is Kirishima. If he fucks up- if he miscalculates even a little bit, everything will go to shit. He'll kill Kirishima. He could fucking kill Kirishima. Bakugou is getting lightheaded, forehead dripping and hands shaking. This is so much pressure and so little time.

No class has prepared him for this. There was once a brief mention of cauterization and how people with heat quirks could perform it if needed, but nothing could've prepared him for what it would be like to actually have to to it. And so soon. And on Kirishima. Who's body seemed to have made it a sport to evacuate all its blood as quickly as possible.

His thoughts were spinning and he could feel the world closing in on him. All noises were too loud, distracting. He couldn't concentrate. His hands were hovering directly above the main source of the bloodflow, shaking visibly. And Kirishima, the fucker, had with his own slightly trembling hands reached up to hold them slightly above Bakugou's, hardened. Bakugou later realized that was the stupid fucking redhead's attempt to shield Bakugou from any possible damage he could receive from the blast he was about to create, and to focus the heat downwards. Who the fuck would thing about something like that in this situation? No one but Kirishima fucking Eijirou.

"Okay, im- I'm gonna do it now" he choked out, the uncertainty not even a little bit concealed. Kirishima's eyes were closed in a frowning anticipation of the pain to come, but he still managed to reply.

"I trust you Katsuki".

The pressure was so high. He could kill Kirishima. He could die. It would be his fault. The blood was booming in his ears so loudly he couldn't even hear his own sobbing gasps for air as his breathing became more and more like hyperventilating. It was like his ability to make the decision had been locked. He knew he had to do it, but the consequence for messing it up, it was too great. He couldn't do it. And yet, the seconds kept ticking away, dripping by one by one just like the blood keeping his friend alive. Kirishima let out a choked whimper and it was like jamming a stick in a bear trap. In a split second Bakugou's brain flipped to a decision. A decision his body was not ready for.

BOOM

His vision goes white, or maybe black, he couldn't tell, and he feels something warm and moist splatter in small dots on his face. His ears are ringing. The edges of his vision blurry, spinning, unreal.

He'd fucked up.

Why are his hands red and wet?

What is that sizzling noise? The burnt smell? Below him is a blurry mess or red and black but his gaze can't focus on anything. That annoying ringing in his ears drown out all other possible noises.

He fucked up.

Shock takes an iron grip on him and prevent him from wrapping his head around what is going on. There was something urgent. He had needed help? Recovery girl.

And that's how they were found. Bakugou sitting with wide, unfocused eyes, tears running down his cheeks unnoticed by himself. Gaze locked on the body in front of him. The body with a big hole blown up in the stomach area, its contents basically soup.

Midoriya is the first one to reach them, immediately recognizing the unfocused stare and uneven breathing.

"He's in shock. Deep in shock. He doesn't move or respond to anything, what the hell happened?"

"Oh my god, Kirishima"

The sound of his name seemed to feel at least part of Bakugou's consciousness back to his body because he let out a sudden, deep sob and barely loud enough to be hard, he whispered.

"I fucked up"

So yeah, even the best sometimes fuck up when such immense pressure is put on them. Kiri got his gut blown to shit yo. I do think he survives though. How will Bakugou deal with having fucked up so badly? Maybe I’ll write some angs about him dealing with it lol

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This one is the real gore-porno lol (not actual porn tho, dw), warning for blood, guts and ANGST. In a huge explosion or other type of great force, Kirishima is almost split in half. On one leg getting mostly ripped off, all the way from the very base of his thigh, along with a bit of his side and stomach. Sort of like this, but the leg still being attatched to the body by some bits of skin and flesh.

Kirishima's perspective:

He doesn't understand what's going on really. His body has gone in shock and he doesn't feel pain, just kinda numbness and confusion. He don't know why he can't move when he’s laying there on the ground. He feels both hot and cold at the same time, and he can't really tell where his arms and legs are.

"Bakugou, what's going on?" He asks. But Bakugou doesn't reply. He just sobs as he pets his cheek and seems to be in great distress.

Bakugou rummages around a bit, still sobbing and gasping, gritting this teeth, and eventually somehow manages to hoist Kirishima's limp body onto his back. Huh, he must be hurt then, Kirishima assumes.

"Are we going to recovery girl?" He asks, head slightly bouncing on Bakugou's shaking shoulder as he runs. Bakugou manages to choke out a quiet "ssshhh, don't talk now" between sobs, and Kirishima gets more worried now. Bakugou is really distressed, what's going on?

He tries to look around. Has it gotten this dark already? There must be sweat or something getting in his eyes, because his vision is getting darker and blurrier. And he's so tired. Maybe he'll just take a nap. Bakugou is here so he's safe. Hell just close his eyes for a moment...

Then it switches to Bakugou's perspective, and we are back when he's just picked Kirishima up.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He can't deal with this. Why hadn't he been there?? How did this even happen? This fucker was supposed to have the best defence in the entire hero force, what the fuck??

He can't stop his sobbing. Why would he? This is real. Kirishima will die any second and the only thing he can do is run. Run for his friends life.

He'd been scared to his core when he'd found Kirishima laying on the ground, unmoving. He'd sat down beside him, too in shock to even begin to know what to do. And then Kirishima had startled him half to death by suddenly coughing and grunting out something that sounded like "Bhkgh, ws gngh nh", voice wet with blood. The relief of realizing his friend was still alive, there was still time, was overwhelming. But it was also quickly replaced with the fear of fucking this up and letting time run out. He had gently brushed Kirishima's cheek, the redhead seemingly unknowing of the situation he was in.

Now he was running with the most precious cargo on his back, trying to control his breathing so he could run steadier and faster, not making the weight on his back bounce too violently. The hand holding the body on his back were wet with blood, and his heart got caught in his throat when one of his hands felt slippery guts on their way out between his fingers. His focus starts to slip. It's too much. Suddenly he feels a breath on his cheek, followed by a wet choking noise and some blood splatter on the side of his face. Kirishima is still alive. Trying to say something even though his body is falling apart.

"Shhh, don't talk now" Bakugou sobs.

Somewhere along the shock takes overhand for Bakugou as well and his sprint turns into a jog.

Eventually they stumble into the secured area and are seen and approached by the others, who get a real shock when they see the state the two are in. Turns out neither Bakugou or Kirishima had been really present during this traumatizing event and neither's narrative was reliable. The scene is gruesome. Bakugou, stumbling forward in an unfocused and not seeming to have a plan for going in a direction in particular. Blood covering most of his face from a wound on his head, probably having a concussion. When asked what's going on or what he's carrying he just answers in short sentences like "I don't have time" or "I'm supposed to get recovery girl", seemingly not having registered the questions at all. The biggest shock is when they see what he's been carrying though. On his back hangs Kirishima. He's seemingly unconscious at this point, body limp and.. one leg dragging behind on the ground, guts on their way out from the hole it left behind.

When they manage to pry Kirishima off Bakugou's back they realize he's cold and completely unmoving. He's probably been dead for a while. Bakugou had been too far gone in shock to understand this rescue mission was over.

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I’m sparing Kiri from getting hurt in this one lol. "What's going on?"

Kirishima came rushing to the place where a few of his classmates along with their teacher had gathered around a certain explosive student.

"I don't know? We were in the middle of an exercise and I just grabbed him and he freaked out!"

Kirishima quickly made his way into the center of the gathering and saw what had caused it.

Bakugo was having some kind of panic attack, breathing going in and out of hyperventilating and eyes frozen, staring at nothing. His skin was shiny with sweat and his whole body was visibly tensed to the maximum, even vibrating slightly, hands popping ominously. No one could even get close without the red eyes immediately snapping to them, explosions growing bigger and more threatening. Bakugou was completely lost in his own head, reacting to every sound like a threat.

Kirishima could tell the others were afraid. Afraid for their friend, but also of him. No one could get close.

Well, no one except Kirishima.

“Aizawa, I think I can help.” he said, eyes not leaving the blonde.

The teacher could’ve canceled the blonde’s quirk, could’ve made it relatively easy to overpower the out-of-control student and taken him to recovery girl. but he knew his students well enough to know that would be devastating to his current state, only adding more panic, fear and humiliation. He knew about these two’s bond. Knew Kirishima could take the blasts. It was worth a shot.

"Bakugo? Can you hear me?” Kirishima asked softly. No reaction from the blonde aside from maybe a few extra heavy breaths. He would have to grab his attention somehow.

“ I am going to place my hands on your upper arms. I will not grab you, just lightly touch you, okay?"

The blond's gaze was turned inwards, eyes frantically darting around, following things that weren't there. Kirishima gently placed his hands on his friend's upper arms, making sure not to squeeze or grab, as to not trigger him up even more. He could feel the body slightly tense up under his palms, but he didn't violently flinch away or explode like he had when their teacher had attempted the same thing to try to calm him down. Kirishima swallowed once before speaking again, voice soft but strong.

"I am going to move my hands down to your hands and then hold them to my chest. My hands are going to brush along your arms on the way down so you can feel exactly where they are, okay?" No response from the shaking body so he proceeded with his plan.

"I'm going to lightly take hold of your hands now."

Gently, he placed the sweaty, shaky hands on his chest, placing his own hands on top to keep them from falling down. He searched for the deep red gaze and finally managed to catch it. He caught it and held it.

"There you are."

He could see the turmoil behind Bakugo's eyes, the panic and feeling of being cornered. He held his gaze steady, grounding.

"You can feel me breathing, right? Can you feel the rythm of my breaths? Let's breathe together, alright? In.......and out.."

Slowly, Bakugo's hyperventilating slowed down into a more stable pace, matching up with Kirishima's, and his gaze started coming back to the real world, still locked onto the others eyes. Kirishima let out a proud smile.

"There we go! I'm glad to have you back!" He let his hands fall back and so did the blonde, as expected. What he didn't expect though was the blond letting himself fall into him, resting his forehead against his chest.

"Thank you.." he could hear his friend mumble, letting out a deep breath. Kirishima felt a hand fumbling for his and he grabbed it and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry about it" he breathed into the spiky hair.

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Aaaaaaand I’m finishing this monstrosity of a post off with some fluff. You deserve it if you read this far haha!

Among other things, kissing had been a new thing added to the list of things kirishima enjoyed a lot, after he and Bakugou had started dating. It could be so intimate, but also so casual. The perfect way of showing your loved one affection! It could be done in so many ways too! but there was one particular type of kiss that had grown to become Kirishima’s absolute favorite. It was not one of those deep, tongue-exercising kisses, even though he enjoyed those too! No, this was actually something that had started out as a joke, but had turned into something so much more special and fun.

It all started one day when Bakugou was heading to the showers after a training session and was going to give Kirishima a quick kiss as he passed him by in the common-room. Kirishima didn’t know why he’d done it differently that time, but het way he had shaped his mouth as they parted had created the most cartoonishly loud smack that the whole room had gone silent. The surprise in Bakugou’s eyes had slowly morphed into a face of immense satisfaction and manic joy.

“Dude” was finally heard from Kaminari who’d decided to break the silence. “That was loud as FUCK”.

Bakugou’s red eyes immediately snapped to him.

“Damn right it was! Louder than your sorry ass could ever make it!”

And after that it was on.

Bakugou made it a sport to, of course when they were in the most public places, make the loudest possible smack when parting from a casual kiss. As much as to show affection, the goal of these kisses were to make an as loud noise as possible, sort of as a flex to any unfortunate classmate that happened to be around when it happened. Of course Bakugou had made it into some kind of personal challenge to figure out the way to make the loudest kiss possible during his time at UA and he was well on his way already. Kirishima thought it was a bit silly but he would lie if he didn't admit he also felt a smug satisfaction when they parted with a loud plop, having perfected the way he pouted his lips, creating a suction cup effect when colliding with Bakugou's similarly shaped ones. A comedic display to say the least. But much manlier than a subtle peck on the cheek. ____________________________________________

If you got all the way down here, thank you so much for reading! I’m not a writer, but sometimes I get little ideas that I write down, and then I might as well share them ^^

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #Kirishima Eijirou #kiribaku #bakushima #angst #gore #writing #long textpost #textpost #not art #blood #fluff #hurt/comfort #fanart #fanfic

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natashaashleymarvelromanoff · 5 years

Text

I’m so glad you’re back - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8 chapter 10 chapter 11 Chapter 12 chapter 13 chapter 14 chapter 15 Epilogue

Vormir 2014

The two assassins soon arrive at the planet Vormir after taking the Benatar from Morag.

As they look around at the planet, Clint cannot help but feel overwhelmed, vormir was tragically beautiful, he couldn't believe he was standing on ground that was a different planet from earth.

“This would be awesome if not for the circumstances.” Natasha gives him a sad hopeful smile. She knows he misses Laura, just like she missed Steve. Looking up at the mountain in front of them, it's almost blatantly obvious that's where they needed to go. The two giant pillars reaching up to the clouded sky above them. Kind of cliche really.

Natasha and clint start their journey of climbing up the hill, as surprising as it seems it doesn't take too long for them to reach the top. But it was exhausting, despite its shorter journey to the top, the steepness made up for it.

As they reach the top the two assassins take a second to look at the view. Nebula had told them Vormir was the ‘very centre of Celestial Existence’ and anyone could tell by looking at it that what she said was true. As Natasha looked up at the black sky she couldn't help but gasp at the beauty of it. A forever eclipsing sun shining purple. The planets and stars in the sky. Every new detail she saw she made a note to remember, she couldn't wait to tell James about this place.

Hearing a whisper of a movement behind them the archer and spy quickly draw out their weapons and spin on their feet, Natasha pulling out her gun and Clint handling his bow and arrow. Both aiming at the same figure in front of them.

“Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan, Clint, son of Edith.” The husky accented voice called out to them. Natasha and Clint stared at the figure with the deep male voice in apprehension and confusion. He was floating off the ground and covered in a damaged cloth and a red face. He almost looked like a dementor from harry potter. And he knew their names, but also their parents. Not even Natasha had known her parent's names until she went searching for them after Shield fell, and even after she found out she never told anyone but Steve. So who was this guy?

“Who are you?” The redhead called out.

“Consider me a guide. To you, and to all who seek the soul stone.” She raised an eyebrow at his words.

“Oh, good. Tell us where it is, then we'll be on our way.” She replied. Her weapon still drawn.

“Ah, lieschen. If only it were that easy.”

Turning away from them, the cloaked figure floats away and towards the edge of the cliff top. The two Avengers follow him and look out over the edge at the hill as if they expected the stone to be there, but they were met with only the rough ground at the bottom of the cliff.

“What you seek lies in front of you. As does that which you fear.”

“The stone's down there.” Natasha concluded, it had to be. Why else would he bring them to the edge of the cliff? His deep voice still behind them spoke out again.

“For one of you. For the other, in order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul.”

Stepping away from the edge, the two Avengers take a minute to digest what the red-faced man had just told them. They don't actually know how long they had been pacing and sitting for, it felt like hours but probably only lasted a few minutes. Natasha sat on a rock close by the edge, contemplating his words. You must lose that which you love? She wasn't an idiot. She knew what it meant. To lose what you love?

They came here with a mission, the two of them. To get the stone. There was no way they couldn't come back without it, but coming back with the stone meant that one of the wouldn't.

She couldn't let her oldest friend die. They were so close to getting their friends and family back, he couldn't die before he got to see them again. But she couldn't help but think of James either. She knew he would be okay without her. He had everyone else to protect him and raise him, and if her team was successful, then James would have Steve. He would have his father back.

Sighing and standing to her feet, Natasha walked over to the pacing clint and grabbed his hands, making him face her. At first, she avoided his eyes, as if she was shy about what she was going to say.

“If we don't get that stone, billions of people stay dead.” Nodding his head in agreement Clint held onto her hands. She was right, if they didn't do this billions of people, half of life is dead. Gone forever. One person or half of the universe. It's a no brainer, he thought. For years he dreamed of getting them back. His family. And today he has the chance to do that and Clint was prepared to do whatever it took to get them back, even if that meant not being here when they did.

“Then I guess we both know who it's got to be.”

Smiling softly at her friend, she agreed. “I guess we do.”

They pause for a minute, the silence almost awkward as they stand to hold each other's hands. Clint started to laugh at the situation.

“I'm starting to think we mean different people here, Natasha.” Guilty.

“Clint I can't let you do it. We’re this close to getting Laura back, the kids. You've been through hell. I can't take you away from them. And all these years I've been trying so hard to bring everyone back. Let me do this.”

“Oh, don't you get all decent on me now.” Clint rolled his eyes at her words. They were both completely stubborn inside and out.

“What, you think I want to do it? I'm trying to save ‘your’ life, you idiot.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want you to, how's that? What about James? huh? Your son? Natasha, you know what I've done. You know what I've become. I won't let you do this. I won't… won't make my nephew an orphan.”

“So it's okay for you to leave your children but it's not okay for me? Clint, they need you.”

“They'll have Laura. They lived for years with me disappearing and going on missions, every time they were prepared for the worst just in case I didn't come back. They'll be okay. “

“And so will James. He has his uncles and his aunts, he has you. He'll have Laura, the kids, he'll have his father back. He would have everyone there for him.” Her breath caught in her throat as she mentioned her son.

“You know what I've become without them, Natasha.” She grimaced. She knew what he had done in their absence but that didn't mean he deserved to die.

“Well, I don't judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“Maybe you should.” Clint scoffed. He knew what he had been doing these past few years and he did it willingly. Not concerned about anyone or anything. Only wanting revenge.

“You didn't.” Clint squeezed his eyes at her words. He knew she was thinking of her past. But she didn't do the things she did back them by herself. It was the red room and the KGB that made her do it and she had more than made up for it. She wiped the red out of her ledger years ago. She couldn't still think she had any left, did she?

“You're a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Looking at each other again, the two best friends lent their heads against each other, comforting each of them as they realised this could be the last moment they may spend together. Sighing clint pulled back slightly from their embrace.

“Okay. You win.” He breathed out. But before she could react to his words he grabbed her by her neck and threw her down on the ground, effectively knocking the wind out of her lungs and making her eyes slam shut at the sudden blow. Holding her down on the ground clint looked at his friend and gave her a sad smile.

“Tell my family I love them.”

Finding her strength again, Natasha manoeuvres her arm to grab her widow bite and pushes him off as she shocks him. She stands her foot on his chest to keep him down.

“Tell them yourself.”

Using Clint's body as a step she pushes herself of him and makes way for the cliff. As she runs her breath quicken in fright. Every pace she moved flashes of her life overtook her. Her memories from the red room, clint sparing her, becoming an Avenger, meeting wanda and Peter, falling in love with Steve, the snap… James. James had saved her life all those years ago. Her beautiful boy, hair just like his dads. He was perfect in every way. Of course, she didn't want to die, she didn't want to leave her baby, but if she could sacrifice herself to bring half the universe back then she would. James would be okay, he would have the biggest family in the world to take care of him. And Clint would have his family back, the archer had saved her life all those years ago and now she was about to return the favour.

However, as she approached the edge. She was forced back by a hand pulling on the back of her uniform, the force of the action swinging her around until she was rolling on the floor in the opposite direction of the cliff.

As she steadied herself from the spinning, Natasha sees Clint make his way to the cliff. She gets up and runs over to him, enticing him into a fight. As they struggle to gain the upper hand, Natasha gives him a hard blow to the face, he's taken aback from the hit, making him dizzy for a few seconds. But those few seconds were long enough for Natasha to make her move, turning away from Clint, she runs to the edges and jumps.

Her mind races as she falls. The wind winding around her body, whistling at the weight of her falling.

As she falls, she tries to flood her mind with images of her family. The Avengers. Steve. James.

But suddenly the air is different, the whistling even louder.

Hitting her from the side is a large figure. It's Clint. He jumped after her. Reaching for her body as they fall, Clint grabs onto her and latches on a device to her back. A device he had swiped from her just minutes earlier.

Clint throws the cord upwards to attach to debree at the ledge top, the sudden stop almost gives her whiplash, but it doesn't stop her from reaching out for Clint's hand. Natasha grips it as hard as she can, holding his entire weight beneath her. But he's too heavy. She's strong, she always had been, especially since the red room had administrated their version of the serum. But he was still too heavy and bigger than her. There was no way of holding his weight with her own strength whilst a single cord held them both up. A cord that was specifically designed for her size.

Throwing her head up to the ledge she sees has secured her to the cliff.

“Damn you!” There are tears in her eyes as she shouts at him. But Clint just smiles back at her.

“Let me go.” His voice is barely a whisper, but she hears it loud as day.

“No. please don't.” Natasha pleads with him, his weight is getting too much now, and she can't hold onto him with two hands without letting go of the cord but if she lets go of the cord she'll be flipped and they'll both fall. As she cries, Clint can feel her tears hitting him from above as she looks upon him.

“It's okay, Tasha it's okay. Laura will be okay. She will, they all will. Tell them I love them.” She can hear the strain in his voice as he tries to speak gently, he doesn't want to cause her more pain. So he just gives her a smile. Tears now filling up his own eyes. Natasha screams out again, her grip faulting and she clutches on with dear life.

Dangling from her hand, the archer pushes his foot against the stone of the cliff, giving him leverage and enough power to push against it. Natasha is too weak from holding him up to secure her hand around his, the force of his push detaches their grips, effectively making him fall. But even though he was facing Natasha, all Clint could see were images of his family. The day he met Laura, god, he thought he was punching well above his weight. He remembered the day he had proposed. It was really shitty to be honest, just the two of them eating takeout watching rubbish tv in the middle of the night after coming back from one of his first few missions, but he wouldn't have changed it for the world. Seeing her eyes light up at the little ring he had bought her. He remembered his exact feeling when she had told him she was pregnant with Cooper, their first child. That was nearly 20 years ago believe it or not. He still carries around the scan pictures with him, after all this time. His eldest son would have been 20 this year, his daughter, 17 and Nate, 8.

They were everything to him, his entire life. So as he fell, his last moments were thinking of them. Remembering Laura's kisses, his children's voices and hugs.

Just them.

As the redhead watched her oldest friend fall further away from her she screams in disdain.

“Clint!”

The sound of his body hitting the ground is one that will haunt her for the rest of her life.

All she can do as she peers down at her friend's lifeless body is sob and cry. Her breath catching in her throat every time she breathes out.

But then the sky lights up. The two identical structures that sit at the edge of the cliff glow with a blue light and it pushes from the bottom upwards into the sky, creating a ring of blue as it pulses through the dark grey clouds.

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

Shooting her eyes open, Natasha gasped for air like she had been starved of it. Looking around her she realised she was laid down in a shallow lake of water. Slowly sitting herself up, Natasha made herself horizontal to the ground she sat on. The events of a few minutes ago coming back to her.

Then she realises there's something in her hand.

Opening up her left palm, a warm orange glow lights up her face as she brings it closer to her.

The soul stone.

There was only one reason she would have it.

Natasha knew that the exchange was done. A soul for a soul, clint was gone. Closing her eyes, Natasha clutched the stone to her chest and pulled her legs up closer to her, letting out cries at the realisation that he was gone forever.

#romanogers #The Avengers #avengers endgame #endgame fix it #fix it fic #Steve Rogers #clint barton #natasha romanoff #james rogers #vormir #soul stone #infinity stones #infinity war

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

What can you Do?

Written by: @wingletblackbird

Prompt 23: I would love to read an In-Panem AU fic/this would have happened anyway story where we see the beginnings of an Everlark relationship and how it slowly turns into puppy love [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: General

What Can You Do?

It is said to be an ill wind that doesn’t blow someone a little good. Such was the case when Mrs. Mellark died in childbirth with her youngest. Her family was grieved, her eldest two boys were confused, but for one lonely woman in the Seam, it meant having a friend again.

It was really quite a simple thing, but when faced with losing his premature son as well. Bing Mellark ran straight to the best healer he knew, Mrs. Lily Everdeen. It was a win-win. Mr. Mellark would have the best care for his son while he worked in the bakery, and Mrs. Everdeen would be able to bring home some money which was always so short in the Seam. Her husband had little issue with agreement. He trusted his wife, and respected Mr. Mellark who had continued to trade with him in spite of their mutual affection for one Miss Lily. As for Mrs. Everdeen, who was out of place, even unwelcome in the Seam, yet shunned by her old friends, it was a welcome thing to spend time with someone of whom she had once been so fond. The children though, they seemed to enjoy the benefits ten times more.

It’s something Bing is grateful for. Peeta is a hard boy to understand and even harder not to worry about. He has some kind of resilience in him that allows him to overcome the odds against him, but he’s still so small for his age, and possibly always will be, although he has been assured the boy will likely catch up. Peeta’s also quite quiet, very introspective, but when he speaks it’s clear he cuts through the excess to the heart. Out of the mouths of babes is one thing, but this is beyond lacking a filter. The boy is fascinated by colours, shapes, sounds, from whence he draws his inspirations, and is often seen staring somewhere Bing doesn’t know and can’t quite follow. The first time he sits his son on the counter as he frosts cookies, Peeta watches with uncanny concentration for a three year old. Ryen had tried to eat the cookies; Brandon had gotten bored, but Peeta liked the swirls. Peeta was different, and Bing loved him, but he knew from experience different could cause you a world of hurt. This is why Katniss is an asset.

The girl seems to follow Peeta on a different wavelength. If Peeta likes to doodle on paper, then Katniss will hum and sing. She provides him endless inspiration dragging back all kinds of flowers and bird’s nests and grass for him to gaze in wonder, always taking the time to explain everything her Daddy has taught her about them. Inevitably Katniss will run to the bakery when her father visits town to give Peeta her gifts, so they learn quickly to leave the children together while he’s on his rounds. Peeta has been known to brave the Seam to return them to her in artwork. Tantrums tend to occur in the face of separation.

When they start school, Bing knows he was not wrong to fear, Peeta and Katniss are not popular. He knew this would be a risk when he allowed such an obvious friendship. When Primrose was born, and people whispered about her parentage–she looked nothing like the Seam–he had quietly placed some distance between the families. It also wouldn’t do to harm his children’s prospects. Networking was critical in Town. But Peeta understood no such concerns, and the children in class emulated their parents. Everyone knew not to associate with them, and their Seam taint. But there was no separating the children.

The first day it seems Peeta doesn’t notice. He described his teachers and classes, and told how Katniss sang a song.

“She sings real pretty, Dad.”

But then Peeta tried to share toys with some boys his age and they’d shoved him down. Katniss had gotten into their face, apparently, calling them “big, mean, and stupid” before shoving them right back. It had ended with a trip to the principal’s office. A very long one too, because Katniss would not repent of her actions, and Peeta would hear no wrong against her. It wasn’t what you’d call a teachable moment.

The only friend they make is a young girl called Madge, the mayor’s daughter. Bing muses he is not surprised, especially since the girl’s aunt was such a particular friend to Katniss’s mother back in the day. This must cause little Peeta some insecurity, because one weekend, in the corner of the bakery, I hear Peeta and Katniss whispering together as they try to decipher the book they’re reading about friendship.

“Who’s your best friend?” Peeta asks.

“It’s you, Peeta!” Katniss replies, seeming terribly put upon that he didn’t already know.

He hugs her in that awkward manner of children who still haven’t quite mastered hand-eye coordination. Bing tries not to worry about what that will mean for their future. This cannot end well. He had enjoyed spending some time with Lily. He had never expected their kids to get on so well, and if he did, he would have thought it would fizzle in the way that girls and boys do. And when they got older, well, most people tend to learn to stick with their own kind. There’s a niggling in the back of Bing’s head that says maybe he’s misread something. Peeta seems so happy though, Bing can’t bear to separate them. It would seem a mite hypocritical, cruel. Besides, they’re young yet.

Their summers are spent roaming the meadow, and though he pretends he doesn’t know it, the woods. Peeta carries Primrose around on his back, and Katniss weaves him dandelion crowns. She teaches him to climb trees, and he brags about how he’s learning to frost cookies. His brother’s tease him for being friends with so many girls, but Peeta shrugs it off demonstrating courage Bing hadn’t realised was in him since Peeta is a highly sensitive person. It is Katniss who rallies to his defense. He sees now though that Peeta will do what Peeta will do. And that’s not going to change. Peeta can tolerate most any kind of insult, but he considers Katniss, and by extension Prim, his own, and his brothers soon learn he will rise to any insult where they are concerned.

“Don’t call her that!”

“She’s not an idiot!”

“Don’t say that again!”

Eventually Peeta learns that only eggs them on, but in the angry squaring of his shoulders, and the flash of his eyes, Bing sees the stirrings of real manhood.

As Peeta turns seven, Bing turns to talking about more adult concerns. With three sons to raise and provide for, he has to be careful, because when they have families of their own, the bakery won’t do for all of them. This is why they had been hoping for a young girl, he and his late wife. One of the reasons in any case; Bing certainly wouldn’t have minded a daughter to spoil. But that did not happen, so he needs to look into apprenticeships. It’s fortunate Ryen at least feels like he can’t get out of the bakery soon enough. Bing tries not to be hurt by it. Rye merely does not appreciate the artistry of it, or the science. They have talked about various options. He is ten now, and in a few years will be ready to apprentice out, so Bing is already scouting and talking about it with other business owners. Soon he will have to seat all his boys down and come to a solution that suit all of them. He broaches the subject with Peeta when he asks what they were talking about.

“Rye’s future.” Bing replies. “What he would like to do with himself. What his role will be in the future. What do you think, Peet?”

“I think he’s good at being mean.” Peeta pouts, and Bing laughs.

“I meant you, son. What role would you like to have in the community?” He hopes to hear his firm answer of the bakey, because while it is unconventional, he is prodigiously talented, and he would love to pass this business on to him, the youngest.

Peeta thinks it through in his careful way.

“I’m supposed to protect Katniss. That’s what we do,” he says staring through Bing with solemn eyes, “protect each other. Always and always.”

And to think Bing was worried before.

A/N: The dialogue about best-friends is reminiscent of a conversation I apparently had with my first ever best-friend when we were three or four years old. Our parents thought it was the most adorable thing ever. I was Peeta’s character.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #wingletblackbird #prompt 23

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tsundere-mitsuhide · 5 years

Text

With All Your Light

I found this song earlier in the week, and it inspired me to write. I would suggest listening to it while you read because I tried to keep the cadence and mood of the song in the story. I translated the second verse with Google translate. AO3 link here. Soulmates AU, bittersweet songfic to follow under the cut.

Mitsuhide sits in the grass, alone, staring up at the endless stars in the Sengoku sky. He looks longingly at the distant balls of light, wondering hopelessly when his time would come.

That idiotic fortune teller he passed in town a few days ago still stuck in his mind. They said everyone has a person, somewhere in the world, who is their perfect mate. He’d heard of the “red string of fate” that tied two souls together, but surely it couldn't be true for him, could it?

“I thought sooner or later /

The lights up above /

Will come down in circles and guide me to love /

But I don't know what's right for me /

I cannot see straight /

I've been here too long and I don't want to wait for it…”

Maybe the heavens would bless him with his heart’s desire if he just sat there long enough. But it had been four nights of nothing but becoming more and more aware of how utterly alone he is. In a sense, he is afraid of living any other way. He is afraid of dragging someone into his messy, twisted world. He accepts that it was his role to protect those he could from the shadows, never letting them know what he was really up to, never taking any credit, and always disappearing like a ghost at the first signs of light. His hands were bloodied and he could never wash them clean enough for someone to accept him.

But deep in his heart, he still wants someone to stand by his side, support him, dare he say care for him? There has to be one person out there who would be upset if he mysteriously vanished, right?

“Fly like a cannonball, straight to my soul /

Tear me to pieces /

And make me feel whole /

I'm willing to fight for it and carry this weight /

But with every step /

I keep questioning what it's true.”

Mitsuhide wasn't a praying man; faith in anything other than himself had always abandoned him. But he finds himself wishing that someone special would just fall out of the sky…

“Fall on me /

With open arms /

Fall on me /

From where you are /

Fall on me /

With all your light.”

Dare he allow the hope that whoever his “person” may be—if he even has one—that they would be able to light up the eternal darkness of his life?

“Fall on me /

With all your light /

With all your light.”

-----

Tazuki stands on the bridge of an overpass, trying to make out the stars in the sky through the light pollution of modern Kyoto as the cars zoom away beneath her. She often stops here to catch a glimpse of the sky as she walks home from work. But today, she had passed a fortune teller on an empty side street who had said something that she couldn't shake from her mind.

“Soon a light will illuminate you /

Always follow it, guide you will know /

You don't give up, careful not to lose yourself /

And your past will make sense to you.”

She feels like this was somehow tied to the destiny she knows she carries; that sense that she is meant for greater things than working in the university archives. She felt drawn to--and connected to--the past in ways that others couldn't quite understand. She’s always felt like she was born in the wrong era. Maybe that's why she ended up studying history and how she found herself a solitary archivist, always hunting through dusty shelves of ancient military tomes that no one else really cares about. Maybe there was someone out there, somewhere in the vast world, who understood.

“I wish you believed in yourself, but yes /

In every step you move here /

It is an endless journey…”

A stiff breeze blows through her, and Tazuki sighs. At least the stars understand, right?

“I'll smile if /

In the fleeting time, you take me with you.”

-----

Mitsuhide holds still as a strong wind rustles his clothes and mats his hair. If he strains his ears, he thinks he hears the faint sound of the wind answering what he has kept hidden inside.

“Fall on me /

(Listen to me) /

Fall on me /

(Hug me) /

Fall on me /

(As long as you want)...”

He must have finally lost it; that's the only explanation he can think of. With a sigh, he stands and walks back to Sakamoto castle.

That night, he has a dream. Mitsuhide never dreams. He dreams of a woman, but she felt far away. There are bright lights flashing by her, which adds to the surreal feeling she brings him. She is staring at the sky with the same sense of longing he feels.

Who is this mysterious woman?

-----

Tazuki tries to go about her business the next morning as if everything was normal. But the truth is, that it is not a normal morning. She couldn’t stop thinking about the strange dream she’d had the night before.

There was a man, bathed in moonlight, sitting in a field of tall grass and staring at the stars. He felt familiar somehow… like he was someone important. But she couldn’t place him and it was driving her nuts. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees his lithe figure, all in white, and surrounded by the dark dark night. No lights, nothing but vast, empty blackness, the stars, and this mysterious man.

“I close my eyes /

And I'm seeing you everywhere /

I step outside…”

The more she thinks about him, the more lonesome she becomes. She is consumed by his phantom image as she wrecks her brain for the connection she must be missing.

------

Mitsuhide could not shake the image of the woman from his dream. He saw her everywhere; as if she was a shadow or a trick of the light… It felt like she could be standing beside him and he just hadn’t seen her yet. It was infuriating, but also strangely comforting. He didn't understand it.

“I step outside /

It's like I'm breathing you in the air /

I can feel you're there…”

------

That night, Mitsuhide wanders back out to the field he has been occupying at night for stargazing. This night though, wouldn't be like the others.

As he sits looking at the stars, there is a flash of light in the distance. Odd… It's too big to be a shooting star or lightning…

Suddenly he feels a sharp pain in his chest and the inexplicable feeling that he needs to go toward the strange light. Almost as if his very soul is compelling him to move, he gets up and strides toward the stables.

-----

Tazuki finds herself surrounded by a dark fog. She can’t see anything around her. One minute she was standing on the overpass as usual, and the next, she is enveloped in darkness. The more she tries to move through it, the denser it seems to become. So she chooses not to fight it, and just wait for it to dissipate.

She hadn't realized she had closed her eyes until she opens them again to see the dark blue sky, unadulterated by modern electricity. There are no buildings that she can see, only trees a good length away from where she stands. She takes a deep breath of warm summer air and a thrill runs through her. Wherever she is, she can feel that she is finally where she belongs. Her feet are heavy as if rooted to the ground like a tree. So she stays in the clearing, eyes turning towards the stars to read the constellations and determine her general location.

-----

Mitsuhide gallops through the night, following nothing but the push-pull sensation that has arisen inside of him and guides him through the forest. In the stillness, he can hear the whisper of the wind from the night before, echoing louder and louder the closer he rides to whatever awaits him.

“Fall on me /

(Listen to me) /

Fall on me /

(Hug me) /

Fall on me /

With all your light.”

Mitsuhide practically leaps off his horse, heart pounding and ears ringing. His feet feel heavy but that's because the rest of his body feels like it's floating. Dragging his unruly feet, he stumbles away from the horse, passed the last row of trees, and into the clearing.

-----

Tazuki turns due west and points. “Ah, Saturn! And Pisces right above the horizon. Though its lower than before.” She turns in the opposite direction, facing due east. “And there’ s Virgo, perfectly on the horizon. Huh. Virgo wasn't out yet before.” She speaks in English, reverting to her native language as she practices the skills her father taught her as a child. The sky is much more precise here. It must be the lack of electric lights. I must still be in Japan if the sky is the same. There are slight differences though so it must also be around the same month and day. But why does everything look so different then?

She hears a rustle from the south end of the field and turns. There, standing on the edge of the clearing is the man in her dream. He looks as if he is casually leaning against a tree, watching her.

-----

He nearly falls to his knees when he sees her in the clearing, and if it isn't for the noticeable hitch in his breathing, he would think he is dreaming again. He watches her curiously from afar as she stargazes.

Until she turns around and they lock eyes.

“Fall on me /

With all your light.”

#taz writes #ikesen fanfic #songfic #my writing #soulmates au #one shot #ikesennw reblog #across time and space: a collection of au shorts

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who-gave-atlas-a-pencil · 5 years

Text

boats and birds

A/N: So I couldn’t not write this after watching Episode 45. I just couldn’t shake the idea of Molly joining Twiggy in the rigging and so this happened? Doesn’t really have much to do with the original idea anymore, but that’s beside the point! I hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing critical role fanfic. : D (Oh, also - the title comes from the song “Boats and Birds” by Gregory and the Hawk. It weirdly reminds me a lot of widomauk? Not sure why, but there you have it.)

Summary: Molly enjoys acrobatics but doesn’t excel at them, Caleb’s sense of humour is called into question, and Twiggy has a knack for causing cute moments even when she isn’t directly involved.

Read it on AO3

The sunlight is warm against his skin as Molly hangs upside down from the rigging that goes up to the crow’s nest, drifting in a lazy circle. It’d be an easy enough task to unhook his foot from the rope he has it coiled in and give a quick flip to stick the landing, but there’s something oddly comforting about hanging upside down like this. It reminds him of the circus, and of the Knot Sisters dangling and contorting themselves every night as part of their act. They’d been two of the grumpiest people he’d ever known, prior to meeting Beauregard. He wonders how they’re doing.

“Hey Molly!” Jester’s voice rings out from above him, and he glances up – down? – to look at her. She’s leaning over the edge of the crow’s nest, grinning ear to ear. “Why are you just hanging there? Are you stuck again?”

“Never,” Molly calls back, and kicks himself free. It takes a few attempts and he ends up flailing gracelessly for a moment before he catches himself on a rope and scrambles back up to join Jester. Propping his chin on his hands, he tangles a leg around the posts of the nest and grins at her. “Did you need something, darling?”

“Noooooo, not really,” Jester singsongs in her familiar, slightly childish way. “Twiggy’s been talking to Caleb forever though and playing with Frumpkin and it’s boring up here without people to talk to.” She leans in closer to him. “Actually, though, were you stuck just now? Because you looked kind of stuck and you were flopping a bit – you know, like Nott did that one time when she fell in the water she was walking on because she tripped on a rock?”

Molly smothers his grin and glances around before leaning in conspiratorially. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes, of course. I’m like, the best secret-keeper of all time. Well, I’ll probably tell the Traveler, but he’s always here so he’s gonna know anyway.”

“Alright then. Truth is….I really wasn’t stuck.” Molly grins and taps Jester on the nose, then steps back off the nest and catches himself, swinging from the ropes again.

Above him, Jester is looking down with her eyes scrunched up at the corners. “You were too. Just a little.”

“Maybe a little,” Molly concedes. “But I have to have an off-day every now and then, otherwise Nott might get jealous and then where would we be? I mean, look at this.” He lets himself relax, his legs slipping from the coils of rope. He means to fall a bit, to catch himself and swing around gracefully in some dramatic and appropriately glorious echo of Twiggy’s earlier descent. Instead, a wind picks up at the exact moment he lets go, blowing the ropes out of reach so that suddenly he’s in free fall. He curses, scrambling for a hold to avoid taking the full brunt of the sudden stop at the bottom and manages to grab a rope just tightly enough to almost dislocate his shoulder before he loses his grip again and crashes the rest of the way to the deck below.

For a moment, the wind is knocked out of him with such force that it’s all he can do to blink at the sky like an idiot. He doesn’t feel terribly injured, but he can already tell that his back and tailbone both are going to be one enormous bruise for a few days. Jester calls something he can’t make out, and he waits for the static to clear.

It’s then that Beau appears over him, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Wow. Was this how your audition for the acrobatics act at the circus went too? Think I get why they had you telling fortunes and spreading bullshit now.”

“Fuck you, Beau.”

“Fuck you too, Molly,” Beau says, and pulls him to his feet. “Anything broken?”

Molly blinks the last of the stars out of his eyes and twists gingerly. “Nothing at all.”

“Yeah, I figured. I mean, it’s not like you had pride to injure, right?”

Molly opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by the sound of applause. He looks up to see Jester cheering, her voice magnified by the familiar thaumaturgy spell. “That was a really great fall, Molly! I’m really impressed!”

Molly gives a little bow and turns his wince into a smile. “Thank you, thank you. I’ve been practising. I’m glad it’s working in my favour.”

“Keep practising,” Beau advises, then claps Molly on his now-injured shoulder and walks away. He’s still rubbing at it ruefully and wondering how to best get her back for that when Twiggy runs past him, a grime coloured blur chasing after Frumpkin. Molly scans the deck for Caleb, then blinks.

The wizard is sitting cross legged on the deck, a spell book lying open in front of him and Twiggy’s Happy Fun Ball in his lap. Because Molly is an idiot and likes to pretend that he has a chance of breaking through the ten layers of trauma Caleb wears like a second skin to find the person underneath and convince him he’s worth something, he takes a minute to appreciate the view. Caleb’s shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, his sleeves rolled up to where the bandages on his arms stop, and as he ducks his head the sun glints copper off his hair.

He’s bloody beautiful, dirt and all. He’s also beet red, his cheeks stained with a particular shade of cherry that Molly hasn’t seen since Nott alerted them all to his “heart condition.” Before he can think better of the idea, Molly’s already walking closer, his pain forgotten and a grin on his face. “Mister Caleb?”

Caleb’s head shoots up, and though Molly hadn’t been certain such a thing was possible his flush seems to deepen as he clears his throat. “Mister Mollymauk. Do you need something?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“I…No? Why do you ask?”

“Your face is all red. I was wondering if the heat was getting to you.” Molly plops down to sprawl in front of Caleb and leans forward onto his elbows. “You know, I hear a glass of water is great for that. Mug of ale, maybe.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Caleb looks away and clears his throat.

“I thought you were Caleb?”

That earns him a vaguely disappointed look. “That was a terrible joke, Mollymauk.”

“It was worth a try.” Molly inches forward a bit, close enough that Caleb has to move the spellbook slightly to keep him from laying on it. “You know, I’m not sure you get to be the judge on jokes anymore, Mister Caleb. Twiggy didn’t even get a chuckle out of you earlier.”

“I am not a happy guy,” Caleb says, with a shrug and the exact same intonation he’d used before.

“Who says you have to be happy to laugh? A joke’s still a joke, and if it’s funny that’s just how it is. Don’t tell me Zemnians don’t believe in jokes.”

“Of course we have jokes.”

Molly raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Tell me one, then. I’m all ears.”

“They are not funny if you are not Zemnian.”

“Nonsense,” Molly says and waves a hand. “The only jokes that aren’t funny are puns in a language you don’t speak. Try me.”

Caleb gives him a long, steady look that Molly returns with a shameless grin. Nearly a minute passes before Caleb finally gives a begrudging, exhausted sigh. “Fine, yes. One joke. But then you let me work on this puzzle ball for a minute, ja? It is very arcane and interesting and I’m not certain if our friend will let me keep it when we part ways.”

Molly crosses his heart and grins. “Scout’s honour.”

“I very much doubt you were a scout, but I will hold you to that. Alright. Don’t say I did not warn you.” Caleb sighs again, his eyes drifting to some point in the distance. “Can a kangaroo jump higher than a house?”

“I don’t know, can it?”

“Ja, of course. A house cannot jump. Ha-ha, very funny, right?” Caleb looks down at Molly and shrugs just barely. “I told you, it isn’t funny unless you are Zemnian.”

He’s right. The joke isn’t all that funny. But there’s something about Caleb’s deadpan delivery, the circumstance, the colouring still fading from Caleb’s cheeks that it all catches Molly in just the right nonsensical combination that he laughs anyway, the reaction pulled from him without his permission. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the confusion on the wizard’s face, the way his brow furrows and the corner of his lip twitches up slightly, and the sight makes Molly even giddier because he’s not convinced he’s ever seen Caleb smile at anything but a bookshop and the fact that he’s doing so even vaguely now isn’t much, but it damn well is something.

“This is not the reaction I was expecting,” Caleb mutters, so quiet Molly almost misses it.

He dashes the tears of laughter out of the corner of his eye. “That was awful. I loved it. Got any more like that?”

“Ja, probably. I would have to think on it a bit first, but I am sure I could remember some. First, I would really like to work out this puzzle, though-”

“Right, the Happy Fun Ball. We had a deal.” The last bits of laughter fading, Molly straightens up into a sitting position. “I’m nothing if not honest, but I hope you know I’ll be bugging you soon for more terrible jokes.”

For a moment, Caleb looks even more confused than before. Then he nods, just barely. “Ja, alright. I will try to remember some more.”

“Good.” Molly pushes himself to his feet and looks down at Caleb, his hair still copper in the sunlight. “You know, I’m gonna go tell that one to Twiggy and Nott. Maybe they can surprise you with it if one of them tries to cast that spell on you again.”

Caleb glances up, his eyebrows furrowed. “And what would be the purpose of that?”

“Because maybe it’ll actually get you to laugh. I’d like to see that sometime.” Molly grins at the surprised look on Caleb’s face, reveling in it in the brief moment he has before it registers what exactly he’s just said, then reaches out to ruffle his hair as he passes. “Happy studies, Mr. Caleb,” he calls over his shoulder, and wonders if he imagined the way that Caleb’s cheeks flushed red again.

#critical role #fanfic #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #au: molly lives #atlas writes

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