#brain foggy and just really tired and unable to focus well for the past few weeks or something..? ANYWYA. not really sure what | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Careful Closeness (FE3H)

Sylvix | Canon-Compliant | War Phase | Teen | Complete

It's been beaten into him that men aren't supposed to feel things. ----

A/N: CW for brief mentions of Sylvain being tossed into a well, and a mild description of what could be viewed as a panic attack. Read here on AO3 for better quality!

----

When Sylvain hits the ice-cold water, it’s like smacking against a stone wall. Pain blooms through his bones and he winces which is a mistake because he breathes in a mouthful of water that he can’t properly cough back out.

Sylvain’s a good swimmer but that means nothing when you’ve fallen into a black hellmouth, sleek walls of slick stone rising a perch above with no end in sight minus the soft glow of the night stars above. Sylvain can just barely see them through the misted haze of his kicking and screaming to keep afloat.

He can hear Miklan’s laughter as he scrambles to grab at the side, but his fingers only slide through algae and mold, and his head dips under the water. He manages to pull back up and grab a fresh breath of air, but he’s already so tired and he’s barely begun.

Sylvain is defiant for as long as possible, keeping his head up and sucking in deep breaths when he can, but sometimes it’s more water than air and it doesn’t help. His legs turn to lead, he can’t move his arms and he starts to sink.

And sink.

His lungs burn, the bitter cold of the well water settling deep into his skin. But it’s quiet. Sylvain likes the quiet.

So, he stops fighting.

Sylvain jerks awake, panic seizing him with a vice grip, unrelenting as it hangs on. Sylvain’s panicking, he can’t breathe, it feels like he’s suffocating, head deep underwater again with no way up, up, up.

Someone shakes him violently, fingers tight around his shoulders. Sylvain’s trying to find them, trying to swim back to them, but his head’s a mess and his brain and foggy, and he’s not sure that he knows how to breathe anymore.

“It’s a dream,” says Felix. “Sylvain, that’s all it is, it’s a dream.”

Sylvain snaps too, Felix’s voice like an anchor in the deep sea. He finds his footing, his vision clears and his eyes focus on Felix's face in the dark of the tent. Sylvain’s tent. Why is Felix there?

“Felix,” says Sylvain, his voice a whisper. Felix doesn’t let go, but his grip loosens slightly, thumb rubbing circles against the soft linen of Sylvain’s shirt. Sylvain swallows, then says, “What are you doing in here?”

“You were screaming,” says Felix. “Woke up damn near half the camp.”

“A dream,” says Sylvain, repeating Felix’s earlier words.

Felix regards him for a long moment and then asks, “About what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” says Sylvain. And it doesn’t, it hasn’t mattered for a long time. Miklan’s been dead for years, the well was over a decade ago and Sylvain’s here in the now and present. He can’t change the past, nor can he rid himself of the demons that still chase him.

Felix scowls at that, lips tugged into a serious frown. Sylvain hates that look, not because it’s mean or callous, but because Felix looks like he’s about to say something that he never will. So, Sylvain sighs, rubbing tiredly at his face.

“Miklan,” says Sylvain weakly. “The well.”

Felix’s face softens at that. Felix had been the one to find him all those years ago. Sylvain would’ve died otherwise, but he didn’t, he’d survived. That was also the night the Felix learned exactly what kind of monster that Miklan was and that Sylvain’s bruises had never been from falling down the stairs or clumsiness.

He and Felix have never once talked about it since and even now, Felix seems to hesitate.

“It’s okay,” says Sylvain. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not,” says Felix in a biting tone. “How long has this been going on?”

Sylvain knows that there isn’t a point in lying, not with Felix leaning over him and watching him closely. Felix knows all of his tells, even if they don’t talk frankly. So, Sylvain says, “Always.”

Felix doesn’t like that answer based on the crinkle that forms at the corner of his mouth. Sylvain expects Felix to not push at it, but he’s surprised when Felix says, “Idiot. You should have told me.”

“It’s not your concern,” says Sylvain.

“The moment we pulled you from that damn well, you became my concern.”

Sylvain’s mouth snaps shut at his declaration. Well then. Felix pulls back, sitting awkwardly at the edge of the cot. Then he moves to stand and leave. Sylvain reaches out, grabbing his wrist.

“Stay?” asks Sylvain.

It’s Gautier cold outside and Sylvain doesn’t need to peek out to know that heavy snowdrift blankets the land around them. Felix stiffens under the touch, but not because he’s annoyed, it’s because it’s like coal has been lit low in his belly, red-hot and simmering slowly. Sylvain can tell. He knows how it feels.

This has always been a tangible thing between the two of them, but they don’t talk about it, they don’t think about it, they sweep it away under the rug because they have a war to win and the world might end if they don’t.

And then what would be the point?

But it could be the point for just this one night.

“Stay,” repeats Sylvain, tugging at Felix’s arm just slightly.

Felix follows, leaning back over Sylvain and his cot. His hair is down and hangs like a curtain around their faces. He looks strangely vulnerable. Sylvain does too.

“Alright,” says Felix. He pulls from Sylvain once more, but only to slip underneath the thin covers. The cot’s not big enough for the both of them, really, but they make it work, Sylvain’s back pressed into Felix’s chest. Felix is smaller and it’s easier for him to wrap around Sylvain than the other way, nose tucked into the back of his neck.

It doesn’t feel like Felix is putting up with him, not with the way that his arm snakes around Sylvain’s waist tightly, hugging him close.

“You can talk to me,” says Felix. “You can always be honest with me.”

“Yeah,” says Sylvain quietly, but the word hangs heavy in the tent. They lay there silently for a few moments, Sylvain staring at the at the rough canvas that’s hung up. Suddenly, it’s hot in there, it’s boiling, Felix pressed against his back, breath puffing against Sylvain’s neck and a million things that can be said hanging between them.

“I love you,” says Sylvain, unable to stop himself.

To his credit, Felix doesn’t run away, he presses closer, pulling Sylvain tighter against him. “I know,” he says against his neck before pressing a soft kiss there. Quick. Simple. Perfectly Felix in his no-nonsense kind of way.

Sylvain wants to cry like he’s never been able to because it’s been beaten into him that men aren’t supposed to feel things. He doesn’t sob outright, but his body shakes like he’s going to, and Felix is already trying to soothe him, whispering soft words in the quiet warmth of the tent.

Felix falls asleep first, his rising and falling chest beating a steady rhythm that helps ground Sylvain. He’s warm and soft, wrapped around him, a comforting presence that Sylvain hadn’t been aware that he’d needed.

And now it’s kind of worse because Sylvain’s not sure how he’ll stop drowning if Felix isn’t there to hold him up in the stormy, icy waters of his shitty, internalized self-hatred.

In the morning Felix is still there though, breathing softly against Sylvain, holding tight like he has no intention of letting go. And this time Sylvain actually cries, soft and silent tears, but happy ones not sad because he feels a small sense of worth.

When Felix wakes up a little bit later, he lifts up on an elbow as Sylvain shifts onto his back, trying to rub away the redness from his swollen eyes. Felix just watches him, hand splayed across Sylvain’s chest. Soothing. Comforting. Unquestioning.

“I love you too,” says Felix when the moment slows down, neither of them ready to pack up and be on the move again.

On a normal day, Sylvain would think him joking in gruffness, about to smack him across the shoulder as he calls him dumb. But this isn’t a normal day and Felix doesn’t do that.

So, Sylvain tugs him down for a kiss.

#sylvain/felix #felix x sylvain #sylvix #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 35 - hundreds of hot air balloons filling the sky in my chest

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: dissociation, mild panic attacks, crying, scars, implied branding, non-sexual nudity (bathing), mentions of surgery, past character death, mentions of public shootings and suicide)

(The title of the chapter comes from "burial" by Ross Gay, and the poem Logan recites is "When you, that at this moment are to me" by Edna St. Vincent Millay.)

Daveigh only ended up lecturing Patton for a few minutes once he’d sufficiently recovered from the ordeal last night. He wasn’t exactly in the best condition to pay attention. It had taken an hour or two after waking up for him to even form coherent thoughts, let alone speak again. It was as if his brain had done a hard shut off and subsequently had to reconnect itself back together.

Logan scarcely left Patton’s side for more than a few seconds. Patton knew he did it out of worry and genuinely caring about him, but he couldn’t help feeling like an invalid. He felt fine, considering. Sure, he was perpetually lightheaded and looking around too quickly sent the world spinning, but he figured it could be much worse.

At the moment, he sat before the fire next to Logan, in the slow process of eating breakfast.

A group of four ants wandered around the dirt at his feet, crowding around a stray drop of sugary juice from the mango Logan had tried to get him to eat. He just couldn’t manage to stay focused. Patton had never been the biggest fan of the fruit, but they were starting to grow on him. Ha. Grow on him. He held the uneaten half of his breakfast in his hand, mesmerized by the slow stream of sugary nectar oozing from the fruit and dripping from his knuckles onto the dirt.

“Patton?” Logan said, touching his shoulder.

Patton hummed acknowledgement, taking a bit longer than normal to turn and meet his eye.

Logan chewed his cheek, searching Patton’s face. “It’s not getting any better?”

He smiled, blinking to clear the residual dizziness. “What? Sorry, Lo, did you say something?” Logan’s expression only worsened. Patton looked down again and tugged at the sleeves of his cardigan, pulling them over his hands. The thing was falling apart at the seams, the fabric more brown than gray from the dirt and mud, and soon it’d be riddled with holes. Patton didn’t really mind the fogginess in his head. If it was the price he had to pay for contacting Roman and Virgil, he’d pay it ten times over, but what Patton didn’t account for was Logan getting gray hairs over it.

“Can you at least finish your breakfast?” Logan asked, tapping his arm. “Eat these tree nuts, you need protein.”

Patton stared at the ground, the sunlight on his back steadily creeping toward uncomfortably warm. He thought about the Wakeby house. All the cleaning he wished he could do to pass the time instead of sitting here, sweaty and itchy. He didn’t like it here on the island. He wanted his friends back. Patton spent so much time and effort crafting himself the perfect life, forcing himself to forget every bad thing that had happened to him. Patton just wanted his friends back. That couldn’t be too much to ask, right? After all he’d been through already?

“Patton? Patton, hey, look at me. Breathe,” Logan said, suddenly crouching in front of him. He cupped Patton’s face with both hands, face a mask of worry.

He was tired of the heat, and the bugs, and the dirt, and he wanted his friends back. He missed them so much it hurt, and didn’t even know if they were alive.

“It was empty,” he gasped, his head beginning to pound. “The house… they weren’t—”

“Patton, can you hear me?”

He’d never freaked out like this before. Usually, it was all nightmares, and flashbacks, and screaming himself awake in the middle of the night. Now, he felt empty. His fear was far away. The body clenching its jaw, unable to breathe, wasn’t him.

You seem to be taking our new situation well.

No, I just haven’t dealt with it yet. I’m not really thinking about it.

Logan was cradling him now. Daveigh stood at his feet, watching him with what, in his current state, Patton could only interpret as pity. He hated being like this. Helpless. He was supposed to be some long-prophesied oracle, and yet all he seemed good at was having panic attacks and giving bad news.

“When you, that at this moment are to me dearer than words on paper, shall depart and be no more the warder of my heart,” Logan recited, rocking him gently, “whereof again myself shall hold the key…”

Patton wanted to focus on the words, but the ordeal last night had left his willpower in shambles. He tried to tap into that same side of him that had helped him project last night, that darker, protective, stronger side of himself. It seemed so far away.

“And be no more—what now you seem to be—the sun, from which all excellences start in a round nimbus, nor a broken dark of moonlight, even, splintered on the sea,” Logan continued, his voice beginning to waver. Patton stared up at his face as it teared up, and something warm sputtered to life inside his chest. “I shall remember only of this hour—and weep somewhat, as now you see me weep—the pathos of your love…”

Patton looked at Logan and seemed to see, really see him for the first time. The spark inside him grew, of overwhelming gratitude for kindness he didn’t deserve, of love. He began to return to his body, regaining control of his faculties. His breathing reduced from gasping to shaky exhales.

“That, like a flower, fearful of death yet amorous of sleep, droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed, the wind whereon its petals shall be laid,” Logan finished, a single tear dribbling off his nose and onto Patton’s face.

“Hey,” Patton said, lifting a trembling hand and cradling Logan’s face. “Don’t cry, Lo.”

“Sorry,” he laughed, sniffing and wiping his tears from both their faces. “I am simply glad you’re doing better. That is all.”

“Eudora dropped this off earlier,” Daveigh said, tossing a bundle of whitish fabric at Logan. He caught it with one hand. “Take him for a walk. It’ll help ground him. Try the springs—you both could use a bath.”

“She’s right,” Patton chuckled. “We stink.”

Logan smiled down at him. “Agreed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan held onto Patton the entire way to the springs, despite his assurances that he was feeling much better. He held the finished skirts in one hand, Patton’s hand in the other. Logan had never been to the springs before, though Mikhail had given him adequate directions to find the location on his own, and there was a footpath worn into the dirt besides.

“I didn’t know Eudora could make clothing,” Patton remarked, glancing down at the two lengths of fabric he held.

“Indeed,” Logan said. “She has a very impressive loom inside that cave of hers. We could visit it sometime, if you want.”

Patton smiled. “I’d like that.”

Rounding a bend in the trail, the springs at last came into view. A deep, clear pool perhaps thirty feet in diameter sat nestled beneath a rocky outcropping, off of which streamed a moderate waterfall. Mikhail had mentioned the existence of two pools, the upper for their drinking water, the lower for bathing.

“Oh, it’s pretty here,” Patton said, letting go of Logan’s hand and trotting up to the water. He dipped his fingers in. “It isn’t too cold.”

Logan swallowed. “What would make you the most comfortable, Patton?”

“What?”

“Regarding bathing,” Logan said, fighting the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

Patton’s eyes went wide for a moment, and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

“I will certainly turn my back,” Logan amended quickly, holding out Patton’s skirt to him. “But considering the repercussions of last night, I’d prefer to be within earshot… just in case.”

Patton took the fabric from him, unfolding it and holding it up. “How do I wear it?”

“Oh! Yes, Daveigh showed me,” Logan said, grabbing his own skirt and modeling over his clothing how to wrap it around his hips and tie the corners together and fold them under, creating a sort of waistband. “See?”

Patton watched carefully, nodding as he copied Logan’s movements. “Okay. I think I got it.”

“Right,” Logan said, hating how awkward he sounded. “I’ll just, um, sit over here,” he said, making his way to a large boulder and sitting down with his back to the spring. Birds sang from the canopies and the occasional dragonfly whizzed past on its way to find some lunch hanging around the freshwater, but Logan couldn’t help but squirm amid a heavy, tense silence. He heard Patton begin undressing and distracted himself with the first thing that came into his mind.

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium—” he sang softly, resting his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. “Aluminum, silicon, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, argon—”

“Are you singing?” Patton asked.

Logan paused for a moment, hearing Patton wade into the pool. “… Does it bother you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” he said, and Logan could practically hear his smile. “What song was it?”

Logan cleared his throat. “It was the periodic table of elements in order, actually.”

“I love you, Logan,” Patton laughed, water sloshing as he scrubbed himself clean.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat, and he nearly choked, immediately glad that he wasn’t facing Patton—though he figured one could see his blush from the International Space Station. It was a joke. He was laughing. He didn’t mean it, because Logan had seen his face when Virgil kissed him—as if Virgil had plucked the moon out of the sky and gifted it to him. Shared trauma bonded people. That’s all this was. Logan wouldn’t take advantage of that.

Patton took a breath, and Logan heard him duck beneath the surface.

Logan’s knee began to bounce and he pressed his fist to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. “Three-point-one, four, one, five, nine, two, six, five, three, five, nine—” he muttered under his breath, willing himself to think of anything else.

Patton resurfaced with a gasp, letting out a sound of relief. Logan continued listing off the digits of pi in his head, attempting to compose himself.

“I’ve been seriously underestimating the power of a bath,” Patton snorted. “I feel much better, now.” Water splashed as Patton made his way out of the spring. Fabric rustled for a moment. “All right, you can turn around, Lo.”

Logan took a steadying breath and stood, turning with an amicable smile on his—

He stopped.

Patton was covered in scars. His old clothes sat in a crumpled pile off to the side, and it wasn’t until that moment that Logan realized that he’d never seen Patton without his cardigan or some kind of jacket covering his arms, let alone his entire bare chest.

Most were faded, barely visible on their own, but there were so many crisscrossing his forearms they were hard to miss. There was a thick, knotted scar running from his navel to the top of his left hip, disappearing under the waistband of his skirt. Several more, that looked an awful lot like old stab wounds, pocked his abdomen and shoulders.

“You know,” Patton said, twisting and turning to get a good look at himself, “I wasn’t completely sold on the whole skirt idea, but now that I’m wearing it, I love it.”

Logan felt all the blood drain from his face. Patton’s back wasn’t much better, and under his arm, across his ribs, were four long, angry burns arranged in a type of rugged letter R. Like he’d been branded. Crudely, too.

“I’ll sit over here so you can…” Patton’s voice died in his throat as he met Logan’s eyes. He looked confused for only a moment, before glancing down at his bare chest. He pressed his lips together, swallowing. “Right.”

Logan blinked, immediately looking away. “I—I apologize for staring.”

“No, I understand. It’s, uh, pretty surprising, I bet,” he said a little breathlessly, running a hand through his wet hair. “I guess you understand why I opted out of that swimming field trip in ninth grade, now, huh?”

Logan glanced back at him. He looked… different. Obviously the outfit and the scars were new, but there was something else. It was something in the way he was holding himself. Something in the eyes.

I guess I’m just feeling a bit more myself these days.

Logan felt as if he were seeing Patton—in his entirety—for the first time.

“Did you mean it?” he blurted before he could think better of it, his heart crawling its way up into his throat.

Patton’s brow knit in confusion.

“Earlier,” Logan continued, sounding just this side of hysterical, “when you said you loved me. You—you were joking. Right? You didn’t mean it.”

Patton chewed on his top lip, a look of nervousness passing over him briefly only to be replaced by a sort of determination. “Yeah, Lo. I meant it.”

Logan let out a breath that might have been the beginnings of a sob or a laugh of complete bewilderment. “I… I thought you and, um, Virgil were… with that kiss and everything. You looked pretty in love back then, so it—I just figured—”

“Oh, I am,” Patton said with a smile, and Logan couldn’t decide if he was supposed to feel relieved or devastated.

“What?”

Patton clasped his hands behind his back, fighting a blush. “I am in love with Virgil,” he said slowly, “and Roman, and you. All three.”

“All three,” Logan echoed. He hadn’t considered that as an option. Frankly, he hadn’t give his feelings for any of them much thought out of fear he’d have to eventually choose one over the others.

“Do they know?” he croaked, feeling foolish. Was he the last to know? Had he been oblivious this entire time?

A touch of trepidation finally creeped into Patton’s voice. “No. You’re the first I’ve told. I don’t know how they—how any of you feel about it—and you don’t have to tell me!” he added hastily, holding out his hands. “I told you because I wanted to, not to force you to say it back, or anything.”

Logan stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. Patton loved him. He also loved Roman and Virgil.

And Logan… didn’t know. He cared about them, of course. They were his best friends—more than that, they felt like his family. Love felt big, and unquantifiable, and nebulous—something he’d seen but wasn’t sure he’d experienced at least in the romantic sense of the word.

“I… um,” he started, “I would like some time to process and, er, organize my own feelings toward the—the subject, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, Logan! Take as much time as you need,” Patton said, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll head back to camp and let you finish washing up, and I’ll respect any decision you come to. I just… wanted you to know how I felt.” If Logan hadn’t known him since he was fourteen, he wouldn’t have noticed the carefully hidden longing in Patton’s face before he gathered up his old clothes and disappeared down the trail.

Logan stood there for a long moment before finally shaking his head clear of the stupor and swiftly pulling his clothes off. They were quite dirty now that he looked at them in a pile on the ground. It was strange, though, how nostalgic he suddenly felt for a random pair of clothes. There wasn’t anything special about them. He had several similar pairs back home.

Ah. That was it. Home.

Logan stepped into the cool water, shivering, and waded out until he was chest-deep. The bath felt strangely metaphorical—leaving their old clothes behind, donning Eudora’s hand-crafted garments and becoming a part of the island rather than the foreign objects they’d been until now.

If—no, when they finally got off the island, Logna supposed there would always be a piece of the place in him. It was shaping him.

Everything, it seemed, was changing.

Including his relationship with his friends. Regardless of his conclusion about Patton’s declaration, things wouldn’t be the same.

Logan lowered into the water until the surface lapped just below his nose, blowing agitated bubbles from his mouth. Patton had made it look so easy. Patton obviously loved them, Logan had no disputes in that regard, and he was understandably in favor of a certain outcome. It was to be expected, though, wasn’t it? Of course Patton wanted them to love him back—and yet he’d set it aside to allow Logan space to make his own decision. It would be disrespectful of Patton’s efforts to come to a faulty conclusion simply to cater to his desires.

No, Logan was going to do this right.

The biggest example of romantic love he’d had were his parents. What he wouldn’t give to pick his father’s brain on the subject. He’d always connected intellectually with his father, rather than his dad, simply by way of them both seeing the world through a primarily logical lens. Feelings, Logan had come to find, were anything but.

His father had died first. A malfunction during what should have been a simple surgery when Logan was sixteen. After that, he couldn’t even stand to be in his dad’s clinic for very long. If he hadn’t had Patton, Roman, and Virgil as friends, he probably would have spent the rest of his highschool career depressed in an empty house. His dad hadn’t died until around four years later, two weeks before Logan’s twenty-first birthday, and three days before he was set to graduate with his bachelors. Someone broke into the clinic looking for drugs. His dad had taken a bullet for a child. The shooter took his own life before authorities could even arrive.

His coworkers at Wakeby Elementary often asked him why he decided to stay after getting a degree, after they buried everything tying him to the small town six feet underground. What they didn’t know was Logan had latched onto the only family he had left. Roman, Virgil, and Patton. He sold his parents’ house, which he’d inherited, and bought the one they lived in now.

He knew his parents had loved one another—that wasn’t a question—but Dad had shut off a bit after Father died, and Logan hadn’t exactly been keen on bringing their relationship up, let alone asking for love advice. Really, Patton was the only one of them with a reliable parental figure out of the four of them. Perhaps that was why he seemed to have such a solid grasp on his feelings.

Yes, they felt like Logan’s family, but he wasn’t certain he felt entirely platonic toward them. He remembered how he’d felt when seeing Virgil kiss Patton. Shocked, yes, but not put out or disappointed. If anything, he felt guilty for having feelings for either of them since he’d assumed they exclusively loved each other.

Logan took a breath and plunged completely under the water, scrubbing his hair free of sweat and dirt.

What even were romantic feelings? What qualified as romantic? Simply not platonic? Everything he’d grown up seeing on television or reading in books was, for lack of a better term… mushy. Logan wasn’t one to fawn and coo over someone, to hang on their every word, or constantly drape himself over them. He wasn’t averse to affection, but… what if he wasn’t doing it right? What if Patton’s idea of being in a romantic relationship was different, and Logan only ended up disappointing him?

Lungs beginning to burn, Logan resurfaced with a gasp, pushing his hair up off his forehead. Feeling sufficiently cleaned, he began wading out.

Logan thought back to last night, when Patton had curled up in his arms. He’d certainly enjoyed that. Placing Roman or Virgil in the same figurative situation produced similar results. Not identical, but close enough to be categorized together.

He picked Eudora’s skirt—or, his skirt, rather—up off the rock he’d set it on and secured it around his waist. The fabric was surprisingly soft and fit perfectly. Logan took a breath, the humid jungle breeze cooling the water across his bare chest and legs. It would be an adjustment, of course, but he was slowly becoming more sure that he’d be able to get through it just fine.

Feeling somewhat more resolute in his decision, Logan started back toward camp.

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan was rarely at a loss for words, and yet standing at the outer edge of camp, confronted with Daveigh, who looked incredibly smug, and Patton, who couldn’t help but look Logan up and down in his new attire, everything he’d planned to say on the way down from the springs vanished from his mind. Mikhail approached from where he sat around the smoldering firepit, holding out a pair of sandals. Logan took them, only absently inspecting them. They looked to be made of several layers of barkpaper, or something similar—certainly not leather. Rough twine served as straps to tie around his ankles. Glancing around, he noticed all three of them, including Patton, wore the shoes.

“Thank you,” Logan managed, finding his voice.

“You’ll need to break them in,” he said, loud enough that Patton and Daveigh could hear, “both of you.” Mikhail gave him a knowing wink before turning back to the fire, and Logan fought the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. Patton looked only slightly more composed.

“Yes!” Daveigh crowed in agreement, nudging Patton with an elbow. He swatted her away. “I hear the beach is wonderful this time of year.”

Logan opened his mouth to point out that the weather was fairly consistent in this region of the Pacific, when Patton rolled his eyes with amusement and jerked his head north, toward the softer, sandier beaches. Before he could make an even bigger fool of himself, Logan acquiesced, swiftly following Patton into the foliage.

The beach wasn’t far, and when the tree line broke Logan stopped to tie on his new shoes.

“I think Mikhail was fibbing a bit about having to break in the shoes,” Patton chuckled, Logan leaning precariously against a palm tree.

“While I agree he probably had ulterior motives,” Logan said, moving on to the other foot, “I’m not fond of wandering around barefoot.” When he was finished, he stood up, walking in a circle to test them out. The twine was rough and would likely irritate the skin on his ankles, but it was better than scalding the soles of his feet on hot sand.

Patton clasped his hands behind his back and started out across the beach, Logan striding after him. The sun felt pleasantly warm against his bare skin, the ocean breeze tousling their hair.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Patton asked, coming to a stop just beyond the reach of the tide.

“I expect we’ll become well acquainted with sunburns from now on,” he said and Patton laughed. “Though,” he continued, “that is not all I wish to speak to you about.”

Patton hummed, and Logan couldn’t tell if it was a happy noise or a sad, resigned one.

He took a breath, and turned to face Patton as if about to defend his thesis to a committee. “I do not believe a simple declaration of love would properly convey the feelings I have for you, Patton. Do not be distressed, as I, too, would like to engage in a relationship with you, and Roman, and Virgil, however, I’d like to clarify how exactly I feel about you and the others, as to avoid any unnecessary miscommunication in the future.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, covering his mouth with a hand in a vain attempt to hold back what could either be tears or laughter—probably both. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat, composing himself. “Continue,” Patton said, smiling wider than Logan had ever seen.

Logan swallowed. “Right. Well, the main concern I have is the likelihood of our definitions for what constitutes romantic attraction or gestures differing, and I don’t want to, um,” he stalled a bit on the word, “disappoint you, in any way, or r get your hopes up if you think I will be comparable to someone as… grandiose as Roman tends to be.”

Patton’s smile fell away and held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up, Logan. Let me make sure I’m getting this right. You think I—someone who has known you for several years and has literally confessed feelings for you—would be disappointed with who you are? Lo, I wouldn’t have said I loved you if I didn’t mean all of you. Exactly the way you are now.” A ghost of apprehension flitted across Patton’s features and his left hand tucked under his right arm, fingertips resting atop the red R seared into his skin. “I know there’s a lot about me you don’t know, so I understand if you don’t feel like you can—”

“I love you, Patton,” Logan said, grabbing Patton’s scarred, calloused hands in his own. “I would not wish you to change for anyone, especially me. I see now that expecting the same from myself would be foolish. I am willing to love you as you are, if you can love me as I am.”

Patton’s eyes went wide and he gripped Logan’s hands back. “Yes! Yes, of course I will!” he laughed, tipping his head back to smile at the sun.

And after all that, Logan couldn’t really fault himself for cradling Patton’s jaw with both hands and kissing him—just as one couldn’t fault Patton for giggling into Logan’s mouth and kissing him back.

#tw dissociation #tw panic attack #tw scars #tw branding #tw nudity #tw surgery #tw past character death #tw past trauma #tw mention of guns #tw shooting #tw guns #tw suicide #tw death #COTN

1 note · View note

spookyblackwidow · 5 years

Note

Fanfic request: Natasha's having nightmares and is getting super sleep deprived and it's kind of making her sick, and Clint notices and confronts her about it?

Author’s note: Nightmares are literally one of my favorite things to write about?? BLESS YOU. This is way longer than anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Weakness

2552 words

Natasha jolted awake, sweat beading on her forehead, a gun clutched in her hand, trained on an imaginary threat. The fear faded, slowly, as she became aware of her familiar surroundings, the antique furniture of the bedroom in her primary safe house just outside New York City. She shook off the dream and forced her ragged breathing to slow, an attempt to counteract her racing heart. It was just past 2 a.m., and, although she hadn’t been asleep long, she had enough experience to know she’d be awake for quite a while.

The glow of streetlights seeped through the blinds, softly illuminating strips of laminate beneath her feet. She made her way to the kitchen, resisting the innate urge to flip on lights and ensure her safety, certain enough of her movements and the reality that the danger she’d just emerged from would remain firmly in her mind, unable to creep out into existence. Realism and denial were programmed into her, a staunch refusal to take things at face value ingrained over years of reprogramming, the aliases and brainwashing that never seemed to end, no light at the end of a labyrinth. Tunnels were too linear, too neat, too easy to navigate. Her life had been a messy nightmare she couldn’t quite shake, no matter how much time had passed since she’d defected, since she’d last been unmade.

The kettle whistled, an agonizingly sharp whine burrowing its way into her exhausted brain. She swore under her breath and turned off the burner, annoyed she’d gotten so wrapped up inside her thoughts she’d lost awareness of her surroundings. Something wound through her legs, further startling her, the black shadow begging for attention, acknowledgement, anything.

“Fucking hell, Liho,” Natasha grumbled into her steaming mug of tea, her perpetually icy fingers clutching the ceramic, greedily absorbing its warmth. Carefully stepping around the way-too-fucking-alert cat, she settled into an oversized chair and clicked on a lamp, the pale light fighting against the encroaching darkness an all too familiar sight.

She picked up a book, its spine cracked, the edges worn and faded, a relic from a previous life, from back when she could dissociate enough to get lost in a story. It was one of the few things she’d carried with her into the Red Room, always safely stashed away under a mattress, stuffed in a threadbare pillowcase, buried within a carefully carved hole in the wall. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to hold onto it through all the identities she’d been given, and whatever original meaning it had held was gone, but she liked the idea of having a tangible reminder of the innocent girl she’d once been. She’d tried night after night for years, but she couldn’t bring herself to read it, opting instead to study the dog-eared corners, the inked drawings scattered throughout, mostly doodles scribbled by unknown hands, each an everlasting mark of the book’s history.

Natasha paged through it, seeing but not comprehending the Cyrillic characters of her native tongue. This had become her nightly ritual, a way to detach from whatever horrible vision had awoken her, actions that would hopefully calm her enough to be able to sleep again, although it was never for long. How many years had she been sleeping so fitfully? Her whole life? Or maybe just the last several identities? She’d lost too much time, too much trust in reality to ever be sure. She closed her eyes, but she knew there’d be no more rest before sunrise.

Morning crept in, sunlight inching its way in through the windows, a warm hue that she might’ve derived pleasure from if this hadn’t been the eighteenth morning in a row she’d sat in the same chair, agonizingly awake, witnessing the same dreadful reminder that she’d soon be expected to do things. As it was nearing six, she figured she had just enough time to shower, get dressed, and wash her mug before the first message from Nick would arrive; after so many years working together, he was aware that she was typically an early riser, a fact he took full advantage of. Sure enough, she was placing the mug back in the cupboard when she got the call to come in.

She considered making breakfast, but her stomach turned, the mere idea of eating seemed revolting. The dull ache behind her eyes reminded her that skipping another meal was definitely not what she should be doing, but the food aversion won out, a side effect she’d mentally catalogued and shoved aside long ago.

Her debriefing was short—a routine tracking job, a potential hit, more busy work than anything. Nick handed her a new identity to become familiar with in the event she was cornered, along with one for Clint; it was officially a Strike Team: Delta mission, not that she needed the help, although she would be grateful for the company. As always, they’d improvise, no overly complex maneuvers, no extraction plan. All she needed now was her dumbass best friend to show up on time.

Nick left her to wait in his office, which, under normal circumstances wouldn’t bother her, but the leather chair and wide windows felt too much like home in the most literal sense, and she was getting restless. She stood—too quickly, she soon realized—and paced, her empty stomach complaining, small bursts of light dancing in her peripherals. She blinked away the spots, certain they’d been gold, although they’d simply been white earlier, as they should be. No, they shouldn’t be there at all.

Clint entered as she returned to her seat, physically drained, her head fuzzy and aching. His smile was exuberant, but his eyes flickered with concern, a quick once-over confirming that something was very much not okay with Nat. He shot her a knowing look before pasting the smile back on for Nick’s benefit; Clint acted like an idiot most of the time, but he knew better than to let anyone else worry about his best friend.

Natasha let her eyes track the birds flitting past the windows, slightly iridescent rock pigeons swooping about, bouncing across various ledges and sills, their feathers ruffling in the breeze. She was only faintly aware of Nick droning on in the background, her mind miles away, drifting somewhere among the birds. Clouds of smoke billowed up outside, the thick grey choking out parts of the city, flooding her vision until she could see nothing else. Her muscles tensed, heart rate steadily increasing, the flood of cortisol effectively convincing her this was how it all ended. She closed her eyes, anticipating a flash of heat, pain, and then nothing.

“Nat?” Clint placed a hand on hers, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubbing circles across her white knuckles, a familiar and instinctive action they rarely let others witness. She could hear the strain in his voice, thinly disguised as annoyance, nearly every part of their lives some sort of act, a far cry from who they were together, who they wanted to be. Having felt no other change, her body still intact, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the previous fogginess, restoring her sight to normal.

“Sorry, I got a little lost in thought there.” She smiled weakly, just enough to shake off concern, but not too much to raise suspicion. “Where were we?”

“Reviewing your identities. I shouldn’t have to remind you that being well-versed in your backstory could make the difference between life and death,” Nick said.

She struggled to focus through the rest of the meeting, her mind straying to the horrors that had been keeping her up at night, the visions that she knew would never truly leave her, rather mutating into increasingly unsettling versions of themselves, morphing with other memories and fears. The red in her ledge had merged with her vivid imagination, creating monstrosities she didn’t care to reveal to anyone, as letting them out of her mind, giving voice to the atrocities, would only spread the nightmare, infecting her most trusted friends with the concepts, irreparably contaminating their thoughts and dreams. She knew he would ask, as he always had in times like these, but she wouldn’t share, couldn’t willingly harm him. The secrecy would hurt him enough, he didn’t need to allow her worst fears to become his own.

He waited for the elevator doors to close before confronting her, one hand wrapped firmly around her bicep, the other pivoting her shoulder so she’d face him. Normally she’d fight back, at the very least pry his fingers off her arm, but fighting this seemed pointless. Instead, she fought the resurfacing image from the night before, the pain of Clint following through on Loki’s promise. They stood in silence a few moments as he studied her.

“You’re not sleeping, are you.” It was not a question but a final conclusion, spot-on, as always.

“Not for lack of trying.” She shrugged as much as she was able to in his grasp, which had let up only slightly.

“Nightmares again?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. My bad dreams aren’t really your concern.”

“Of course they are! Do you think I like seeing you like this? My best friend, sick, practically a zombie!” He finally released her arm to run his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not a zombie, I’m just tired,” she scowled.

“Jesus Christ, Nat.” He watched her thin fingers tap restlessly against her thigh, a telling tic she was too weak to suppress. “Have you even eaten today?”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit. We’re getting food in you.” Clint pushed the button for the main floor, and they descended in tense silence. She closed her eyes again, ignoring the spots in her vision, focusing solely on keeping her breathing steady as another nightmare returned to rear its head. Memories of who she used to be, the torment she suffered at the hands of her superiors, the unspeakable crimes she’d committed. Mangled screams, her hands red and bloodied, endless lists of her victims, the names half-remembered at best.

He shoved her through the lobby, down the street, and in the closest door advertising food. It was a cheap pizza joint, one he frequented after missions, usually while intoxicated, but it was the quickest option at the moment. She opened her mouth to protest, to argue that her standard of living was above eating at dollar by-the-slice pizza places that were a far cry from anything resembling a restaurant, but was immediately met with a stern glare.

“Eat.” Clint shoved a paper plate into her hands, a greasy slice of pizza covering most of it. She grimaced and took a small bite, fully aware he wouldn’t let her leave until he’d decided she’d eaten enough. It had been a few months since they’d last gone through this routine, but his food choices had not improved.

“You couldn’t have taken me some place a little nicer? I though you knew how to show a girl a good time.”

“I’ll buy you a proper meal when you learn how to feed yourself. You know, most people gorge on junk food when they’re sleep deprived.”

“I’m much more familiar with fasting.” She set her crust down on the plate, unable to force herself to finish it. “Besides, caffeine is a wonderful appetite suppressant.”

“It’s also a stimulant that can prevent you from sleeping.”

“That’s not about the caffeine, and you know it,” she snapped.

“Then tell me about it! And don’t give me some bullshit about protecting me, I’m not falling for it. You need to work through what’s keeping you awake before it kills you.”

“What part of my hellish life isn’t coming back to haunt me?” she scoffed. “My past, present, potential future. It’s all fucked, Clint, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You wanna bet?” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Clinton Francis Barton, what the hell are you planning now?”

…

Later that night, Natasha sat staring at her book, gently stroking a very happy Liho who was curled up in her lap, anxiously waiting for Clint to arrive. He’d refused to tell her anything—claimed it was better if she didn’t know—and now he was late, despite the fact that he had set the time. The clock in her kitchen seemed louder than usual, the incessant ticking of the second hand stabbing at her aching head. She was moments away from breaking it when the doorbell rang. Clint was smiling, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Clint.”

“My stuff. I’m spending the night.”

“Like hell you are!” She started to close the door, but he braced himself against the doorframe and caught the edge.

“Hear me out, Nat. Please. You owe it to yourself to try.”

“Why on earth would you think this is a good idea?” Natasha crossed her arms, but she stepped back, allowing him into her safe house.

“You trust me—don’t even try to argue with me on that. Your unconscious mind is playing off your deepest fears, and you have no method of self-assurance that you’re not who you used to be. But if we trust each other enough to be openly vulnerable, how could you still be that girl? There’s also the added bonus of having an actual Avenger to protect you.”

“I hate you,” she laughed softly and smacked his arm, “but you have a point. One night, that’s it. And you’re sleeping on the floor.”

…

“Nat, please, I know you’re in there somewhere.” Clint was lying at her feet, bloodied, bruised, a blade pressed to the soft flesh beneath his jaw, the knife clutched in her hand. She scanned the room, taking in the lifeless forms of Steve, Sam, Nick. This was her body, but it was full of someone else’s idea of who she should be, the brainwashed identity pulled from the depths of her mind.

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” she hissed. With an expert flick of her wrist, she severed his jugular and watched him bleed out.

“Nat? Nat!”

She woke in a cold sweat to find Clint, alive and well, shaking her shoulders. It was dark, but the panic was clear in the shadowed lines of his face, and, after a moment, she realized she’d been crying.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s over.” He laid down next to her and gently wiped her tears, his voice low and soothing.

“I—I killed you,” she whispered.

“Then I guess I’m the zombie now.” He grinned and instinctively flinched, expecting her to hit him.

“You’re an idiot.” Despite her best efforts, she smiled back and hoped he wouldn’t see. She cared far too much for this particular idiot, but letting that show was dangerous, a weakness she’d been trained not to let slip. But moments like these, when they were alone, allowed to be themselves, were treasured memories, the things she longed to dream about instead.

Natasha would never admit it, but Clint’s presence was comforting, so she let him stay in her bed. Curled up in his arms, her head resting on his chest, she let the steady rhythm of his heart lull her into the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

101 notes · View notes

alicentsargent · 5 years

Text

i’ll find it, i must (find what?, you ask?) hope

words: 1,511 - part 1

summary: an exploration of matteo and continuously doing what he promised himself not to do long ago: hope. (alternate s3, canon compliant to an extent. tw: explicit descriptions of depression/panic symptoms/self-medicating. based heavily on my own experiences with depression, anxiety and substance abuse)

MON 4:50AM

Night time turned into dawn, specks of light streaming through the open window of Matteo’s bedroom. The air was cold, soft drafts trailing through as the start to a new day began. The sound of people getting ready for the day, bowls being placed in the sink, car engines starting, all the while Matteo couldn’t feel the cold. He couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

Matteo twisted his head to look for the ash tray and found it too far to his right, far enough that he couldn’t just stretch out a hand to grab it. Overcome with heaviness, Matteo simply flicked the butt of his joint towards the ground, not caring about the spread of ash over the ground. He was technically outside at this point, his balcony a solace of fresh air and a glimpse into the outside world.

Matteo hadn’t left his house in 3 days.

He let out a shaky exhale as he lifted his head to squint up at the sky, pushing through the flash of burning pain as his eyes adjusted to the new light after another sleepless night. Matteo had been awake since 2am, unable to get back to sleep, tossing and turning, his thoughts overcome with a restless undefined panic. Feelings of dread and loss of control weren’t new to him, especially when it came time for him to sleep, but sitting up here on his balcony had slowly eased them to a barely there simmer, unlike the boiling force earlier.

Once Matteo had started to feel the physical manifestations of panic overwhelm him, everything else had a habit of coming to the surface, making him spiral into the depths of his mind. His mom, Jonas, Sara, his feelings of utter fucking despair and how he’d never make a name for himself after he’d inevitably fail school. How he didn’t want anything, not anymore, he couldn’t, he really shouldn’t. Hope had only brought him the worst, he’d realised. He had hoped and hoped, wishing for so much, for anything, just so that he could breathe easier, to not feel so suffocated.

He’s tried to focus on school, has even gone to his study sessions with Amira. He’s tried to force himself to want Sara and he’s hung out with Jonas and the boys when he can, as well as participated in flat share meetings and dinners, by force of Hans. Being a person never felt so draining and so full at the same time. Matteo grew more tired as time went on, he’d been trying his best to just go through the motions but he could sometimes see the looks of concern his friends gave him. The whispered words he’d sort of overheard between them, especially the last time they’d all hung out at Matteo’s for a few drinks and Matteo, brain filled with fogginess, could barely feign any interest that night.

Matteo didn’t think much of himself as being an actor. He performed his life and how it was supposed to look like… how he was supposed to want it.

And maybe, yeah, he pretended to be okay so that his friends would leave him alone. There was the stress with his mom and his exams were coming up. These things were stressful and they slipped off his tongue as immediate excuses as they were easily accepted. Jonas especially, knew how hard things were with Matteo’s mom, knew enough to be the cause of a few shoved elbows and choice words to get Carlos and Abdi off his back. Only none of them were aware that those things were just the tip of the iceberg for what Matteo’s mind spun on the daily, draining his energy till his only desire was when his next hit of weed was going to be.

The hum of traffic was louder and Matteo could hear noises from inside his apartment by the time his body started registering the cold. His fingers felt numb where they held the nearly dead joint in between them. Numbingly, Matteo searched for the lighter he had stashed under his leg before bringing it to his lips to light up the last of it. He needed every bit of silence in his mind if he ever wanted to get through the next few hours of school.

MON 09:12

Matteo was late as he stuffed his books from his locker into his bag, blowing out cold air from his mouth as he hastily zipped up his bag up and closed his locker on the way to his next class. He never bothered with a lock; he knew he had nothing good enough for anyone to steal.

Still dazed from sleep deprivation was perhaps why Matteo didn’t notice his head colliding with the person coming around from the corner. He heard a sharp “ooof” and stumbled, hand pressed against his forehead to press back against the pulsing ache that emerged. As his blurriness receded, he noticed a couple of books on the floor, a figure clad in all black picking them up one by one and stacking them on top of each other. Matteo, flustered and apologetic, bent down to help with what was left and that’s when the person he literally ran into looked up at him.

Matteo suddenly noticed how dry his mouth was and swallowed hard. The boy was beautiful. His eyes were dark and he was wearing all black but Matteo was struck by how soft he looked. Then the boy smiled and Matteo could feel his heart race at a stupidly embarrassing rate, he only hoped he had the decency to close his mouth and wasn’t gaping at this boy, who looked wary as Matteo’s silence went on.

“I-uh- fuck man, I’m so sorry,” Matteo said to him.

The boy’s lips quirked up and as he surveyed Matteo, his barely there smile disappeared at whatever he must of saw. Matteo wanted to curl in on himself.

“Hey, nah it’s all good. I wasn’t watching where I was going either it seems,” The boy replied, letting out a small laugh before shouldering his bag and accepting the pens Matteo still held in his hand.

He started to turn away before he glanced back at Matteo, and Matteo felt his heart constrict and expand like a fucking balloon.

“Thanks…” he started, before glancing around the empty hallway, “Didn’t expect to be head butted this early though; the universe is sending me a message,” the boy joked, his eyes shining, and Matteo… Matteo couldn’t understand how someone could be this happy in the morning, especially after having someone like Matteo running into them.

Too worried about what to say, Matteo ended up not thinking through his words.

“Yeah,” Matteo teased as he mustered up a cheeky grin, “Guess uh - guess um … the universe wanted us to literally fall into one another… yeah,” Matteo finished haltingly, his body turning cold. What the fuck did he just say?

The boy blinked at him a few times and then Matteo’s ears were ringing with the sound of laughter.

Matteo looked at the boy in front of him, his head thrown back as he laughed at the bad joke Matteo had been trying to make. He was beautiful and Matteo started to squirm, he wanted to know his name. It felt like such a long time since Matteo heard sounds that were that sweet and genuine for him, because of him. He couldn’t help but wish he could freeze this moment, savour it forever.

Matteo barely noticed when the boy stopped laughing.

The boy gave Matteo a look as he gained back his composure. He nodded to himself and said in a quiet mumble, “Yeah, maybe.”

Laughing boy then turned and started walking away backwards towards the direction Matteo came from, keeping his inquisitive eyes on him for far too long before spinning himself around and facing forwards.

Matteo was struck still as he watched the boy walk away and he felt a pang of yearning, yearning that he thought had cut off with Jonas in the past.

As Matteo was still standing in the same spot, he wasn’t able to miss the small grin the boy turned back to give him before finally turning the corner.

Fuck, Matteo thought as he closed his eyes, banging his head back against the wall behind him. Fuck.

MON 20:58

Only hours after getting home and spending most of his time laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the boy he met today, the one with the laugh that people probably made songs about, had Matteo come to the realization that he never got to find out the other boy’s name.

Matteo, in frustration, smashed his face into his pillow and groaned loudly. He was startled when a knock sounded on his door and he heard Hans pleased voice call out, “Ooooh Matteo! Do you have someone in there with you?!”

Matteo just groaned again as he pressed his face deeper into his pillow, drowning out all other noise.

#druck #druck fic #matteo florenzi #davenzi #mine*#will add to ao3 later!

52 notes · View notes

noleanna · 5 years

Text

These Endless Days Are Finally Ending in a Blaze

“I’m ready for this conversation.”

“What conversation?” Alex asked, deliberately careful.

Michael Guerin didn’t seem to be drunk, which was a welcomed change and something he hadn’t had the pleasure to witness very often in the last few months; still, he didn’t look good. Actually he looked like he was on the verge of breaking, but that wasn’t anything new, and by then Alex had learned he needed to pay attention to every word if wanted to navigate their confrontations coming out unscathed. He wasn’t worried about himself, at this point he was pretty sure he could handle anything, it was Michael who, after Caulfield and after Max, seemed unable to do anything but hurting himself a little bit more every day.

He did come to him, though, so Alex was cautiously hopeful this time would be different.

“The one I couldn’t have before because my brain couldn't’ stop screaming about Max, and the one I need to have right now because I have to focus on Max, but I can’t if I keep thinking about this.”

“Okay, I understand,” It was more painful than any other thing he had experienced in his life, and he had experienced some pretty good stuff, watching the man he loved so distraught, knowing that the wrong choice of words could set him off and make him unreachable for who knew how long. “Come and sit down with me, so we can talk. Have you eaten? Do you want me to fix you something?”

“I don’t want to eat, I want to have a conversation,”

“Alright, let’s talk. But first, come inside, Michael, we can’t talk on the doorway, can we?”

He had swapped for the first name between Max’s death and the third time he had to run in the middle of the night and look for Michael, dreading what he was going to find. Somehow Guerin didn’t seemed enough to reach Michael and bring him back to him, at least for a while.

He led Michael inside the cabin by the hand and he let him, thank god. Once inside, Alex’s heart clenched and threaten to give in for good, under the lights of his living room Michael looked even more broken.

“What conversation, Michael?” He repeated. There were so many unfinished ones between them, Alex didn’t really have a clue what the other man was talking about.

“The conversation in which I tell you I’m in love with you, but it won’t ever come anything from it because like everything else in my life loving you has only been painful and I know it will always be like that. The one in which I tell you I don’t even know how I can love you since I’m almost sure I died the night I helped covering up three murders.

“The one in which you tell me fuck you, Guerin, you slept with my best friend and then kissed her some more, how dared you come here once your life shuttered? And I tell you which best friend, Alex? You can’t disappear from someone’s life for ten years and then expect to still call yourself their best friend. You ask are we talking about Max? About us? And of course we are, I’m always talking about him and about us, but it doesn’t mean I’m not right about Maria, too, because unlike me she might have had some phone calls, she might have had some of you, but you don’t know, Alex, you don’t have idea what it feels like to be left behind. She does. And I do. And I’ve been here watching it happen to her, so shut up and fuck you, too.

“Or what about the one I ask you why? Why is it so easy to leave someone behind? Why is it so easy to leave me behind, Alex? I know you can answer because you told me, remember? At the drive-in you said I give people reasons to walk away from me. Please, please, Alex, tell me those reasons, because I can’t take it anymore. Tell me what I’m doing wrong, Alex. I’ll change, I swear. I need to stop, Alex, because I won’t survive the next time someone goes away without me.”

Alex felt the horrified look that sat on his face ever since Michael had opened his mouth and that word-vomiting came out of it. Coming home from war he had been sure nothing would ever compare to the destruction and desolation he had seen there; he had never anticipated this. This was worse. War you could detach from, you could tell yourself you were just doing your job, that if it wasn’t you it would be someone else. You couldn’t detach from this. How could he when he was a key player in Michael’s hurting?

“This time you say I disgust you, that I’m a useless piece of shit who’ll never amount to anything, so why wasting your time with me? And I say you’re right. I’m sick of myself, too; I’ve been digging graves my all life, how could I not? Run before it’s your turn, right? Run, please. Please. I’m already behind with this all resurrection project as it is. That I can’t do, I’m only able to dig and set fires. I’m covered in dirt and ashes and smoke. I’m a disgusting piece of hum-

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m tired, Alex. I’m tired of so many things, but mostly I’m tired of not having words to describe myself. I’m tired of almost-words. Do you want to know what I am? Well, I can’t help you, because I don’t know. Alien doesn’t mean a thing, you know? Never thought about it, have you? Am I what? Something alive? Maybe I’m not even that. Maybe I died in 1947 and this is hell, not my life. If you think about it, hell makes much more sense.

“And since we’re at it, I get all angry and righteous and ask you when you wanted to tell me you have a piece of my ship?”

At that Alex’s face registered something different from horror; surprise and regret and shame and defiance all whirled for a moment in his dark eyes. But it was just that, a moment, because Michael wasn’t done talking and ultimately his words left only pain behind them.

“The other day Isobel got into your mind, she doesn’t trust anyone anymore, you know? Well, she told me all this stuff she had collected - in your mind - but don’t worry I was so high on acetone I only remember that ‘you really love me’ and you have part of my ship. She was so angry, man; I’d avoid her for a while, if I were you. Apparently what you did was unacceptable, which doesn’t even make sense because only weeks ago she’d have asked you to keep that piece for yourself or bury it in the desert, so I’d never leave Roswell, because if there’s someone on this god awful planet that can’t leave, it’s me, stupid, old Michael. Can you at least tell me I’m right? That you believe you’re entitled to walk away from me, but when it comes to me I can only watch you go? Can you give me that much?”

Michael was looking at him expectantly and it took Alex a moment too long to understand he was waiting for his answer. Until then his only role had been that of silent recipient of Michael’s pain and it was fine with him. It was something he could do for him. Providing answers to the other man’s sometimes wrong, sometimes on-point, sometimes misled accusations was an entire different feat, though.

“I can’t do that, Michael,” Alex cleared his voice and tried to keep it even and calm; he wasn’t mad at Michael for thinking everything he had just thrown at him, heartbroken sure, but mad never, and he had to understand it. “I can’t because it’s not true. I’d fly you to the other end of the universe myself to make you happy, or even just to give you some peace, believe me.”

“Don’t you see, Alex? There’s no peace for me. Not here, not now, not tomorrow on some unknown home planet. Not since you brought me to that fucking prison. Why it has always to be you? I can’t believe you did that to me, I can’t believe Max did… did what he did. And now Isobel talks about killing abusive scums to get strong enough to bring Max back. She’s doing research, for fuck sake! But if she does that, she’s gone, gone like everyone else. We won’t save Max and I’ll lose her, too. And I can’t tell her, I can’t explain it because I can’t… I can��t function. I can’t stop shit. I can’t be there for her. I can’t take Max place, like in life or in death. I can’t love you. I can’t help anyone. It’s like there’s nothing left in me and at the same time there’s too much of everything. I…”

“Michael…”

“No, please. There’s one more thing I have to say. But first, can you touch me? I think that’s what lovers do, right? I just need…” Michael hesitantly moved his arm towards Alex, not really a gesture. He seemed exhausted. It was enough for Alex, though, he was waiting for that kind of invitation all night. For the past few months. He took Michael’s shaking hand in his own and squeezed it, and when it was clear contact was what the other man needed he moved forward and held him in his arms. Michael’s forehead found Alex’s shoulder a fraction of second before Alex’s hand found his hair. Michael was crying, but it didn’t matter, he had been crying since he’d showed up on his doorstep. They both had.

Lovers. Alex couldn’t believe that even in that state Michael was able to make him shiver like that, with just a word.

“For a moment I moved on from you, at the time it seemed the right thing to do. For myself. I can’t tell for sure why I did what because everything is so foggy since… you know? I guess I didn’t want to deal with all that. I wasn’t ready. And I gave up. On us. Then all went to shit and I… I couldn’t deal? At all? And I’m sorry Alex, but I can’t even bring myself to be scared of having screwed up this thing between us for good. I’m just scared of everything. But mostly I’m scared my life will always be like this, I will always be like this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

It was so wrong. It wasn’t fair that Michael had to endure so much. As scared as he’d ever been, Alex gently stroked his hair until the sorrys died on the other man’s lips and there were only broken sobs and then only a tearful silence.

“If this is a conversation,” Michael sniffed, shifting a little in Alex’s embrace. Now, looking down Alex could see half his face. It was a half too much. “I guess this is your turn to say something.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for this part of the conversation,” he had never been as brave as Michael when it came to bear his soul and speak his heart. He was probably the one who wasn’t ready, but he had decided in a nightmare of a prison on a nightmare of a day he wouldn’t hide anymore, that he’d live as exposed as Michael had managed to do despite his many dangerous secrets right from the beginning of their thing. He wasn’t about to back down now. “I don’t think you’ll believe me and accept what I want to tell you.”

“Try me,”

Oh, his brave little alien.

“I love you, Michael. I’m not going anywhere. You’re my family, you’re stuck with me.”

“Max said something similar. Not too long ago.”

“I’m stickier, I promise.” It wasn’t neither the time nor the place to promise anything else, like that his brother would be back, not when the burden of a very possible failure rested on Michael’s - and Isobel’s, obviously - tired shoulders. Alex felt Michael clung even tighter to him. “Now that this is settled, we can sort everything else. But first, let me help you. You need help, Michael, you understand it, yes?”

After what felt like hours, Michael nodded, his nose brushing against Alex’s neck.

“See? It’s already sorting itself out.”

#malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm #my fic

2 notes · View notes

thezodiaczone · 6 years

Text

July Forecast for Aquarius

Mind: blown? July is one of those turning-point months for you, Aquarius: a time when things come together with a huge flourish—or go in a radically new direction. An energy that’s been percolating since February 2017 reaches its apex at the end of the month as a total lunar eclipse blasts into YOUR sign on July 27. Eclipses arrive four to six times a year, pushing us out of limbo and instigating bold changes. With two of summer’s three eclipses arriving this July, you’ll want to sit up straight, stay woke and be ready to greet whatever comes your way.

We almost want to write your horoscope backward this month, but in truth, there’s plenty of cosmic action all the way through July. And with fiery Mars, the planet of energy and drive, retrograde in Aquarius until August 12, you could be a bit of a dormant volcano until the lunar eclipse. Check yourself: Are you being overly intense and stressing out everyone around you? Mars has been in Aquarius since May 16, which gave you confidence and charisma by the boatload. But when the red planet reversed gears on June 26, all that fierce life-force energy got bottled up. Perhaps you’ve had to curb your enthusiasm or suppress other feelings, and the frustration of stuffing them down is palpable. Find an outlet (we recommend moving your body!) so that intensity has somewhere to go. Otherwise, you’re liable to just pick fights or rage internally—neither of which is a healthy option!

Four other planets will be retrograde throughout the month: Expansive Jupiter is backward in Scorpio and your career house until July 10; communicator Mercury goes retrograde July 26 in Leo and your partnership zone; and all month long there are slowdowns from structured Saturn and transformational Pluto in your healing twelfth house and foggy Neptune in your money and work sector. Translation: There’s some unfinished business related to your career or relationships, which is all the more reason to tie up loose ends in time for the July 27 lunar eclipse—your cosmic-coming out party!

A proposed solution, should the retrogrades keep you in a holding pattern: Clean up the clutter in your life. The Sun is in Cancer and your sixth house of health, fitness and organization until July 22. Ramp up the self-care by loading up on the bounty of summer produce and getting regular exercise. Go full-frontal Marie Kondo on your home and office, getting rid of stuff that “doesn’t spark joy.” Call in some helping hands to finish up those tasks and projects that have been hanging over your head, like building bookshelves, steam-cleaning the couches, painting. Don’t wait—delegate!

By mid-month, you’ll be one busy Water Bearer, because on July 10, abundant Jupiter ends a four-month retrograde in Scorpio and your tenth house of career and ambition. Take your summer vacation days before this if you can! Lucky Jupiter only visits Scorpio every 12 years, bringing massive growth to your professional life and loftiest goals. Jupiter is here from October 10, 2017, until November 8, 2018. Many Aquarians have already experienced a surge of ambition or new career opportunities. Jupiter’s evolution isn’t always comfortable—this planet pushes you OUT of your comfort zone, in fact—and since March, you may have scrambled to adapt to changes. Perhaps you left (or pondered leaving) a long-running role or parted ways with a steady client. With Jupiter powering forward now, it’s all systems go until November 8. Make those bold moves, leaps of faith, and big asks! A leadership role or a position with prestige and great responsibility awaits. While it might come with longer or more structured hours, travel or other demands, this cycle won’t occur again for more than a decade, so grab that brass ring while it’s there. The tenth house rules men and fathers—and an important guy in your life could play a pivotal role in the coming weeks.

Two days after Jupiter goes direct, the heavens serve up a partial solar (new moon) eclipse in Cancer and your orderly, wellness-minded sixth house. Solar eclipses mark bold beginnings and can set us on a whole new (and unexpected) path. This one is the inaugural eclipse in a series that will fall on the Cancer/Capricorn axis between now and July 2020, initiating a wave of changes around health and healing, spirituality and creativity, and work and service. Over the next two years, you’ll play with the balance between control and surrender, left and right brain, logic and magic. You could dramatically shift your lifestyle to adopt sustainable health-conscious habits.

This is the only eclipse from this group in 2018, and it’s just a preview of changes that will really take flight in 2019. Still, it will be an intense start! On July 12, the Sun and new moon are exactly opposite power-tripping Pluto in Capricorn and your twelfth house of illusions, closure and forgiveness. Pluto rules the unconscious, and in this hazy zone, an intense personality could show up, perhaps acting as a mirror or a messenger. Rather than rage at them, look at how they might be revealing some part of YOU that needs to shift. It’s also possible that you’ll have to stand up to a bully for once and for all. Stay alert for people who gaslight you or make you second-guess yourself. This eclipse could be the first indication of who no longer deserves a place on Team Aquarius.

Save your energy for folks who truly know what mutual give-and-take is all about. On July 22, the Sun starts a four-week visit to Leo and your partnership zone, putting the spotlight on your closest relationships. You might decide to make things official in a romantic or business relationship.

But take your time before locking in any binding commitments. From July 26 until August 19, communication planet Mercury will be retrograde in Leo and this dynamic-duo zone, scrambling signals with your closest crew. You could have second thoughts about moving ahead, so if you catch a case of cold feet, step back and see if it’s your own fear or a legit red flag. Because couples could misunderstand each other and have heated arguments during Mercury retrograde, make a conscious effort to practice patience. Instead of jumping down someone’s throat, make sure you’ve heard them correctly!

July’s crown jewel—or big shakeup—arrives the next day, when the July 27 Aquarius total lunar eclipse sweeps through your first house of self and solo endeavors. This is the final Aquarius eclipse in a series that’s been touching down on the Leo/Aquarius axis since February 2017, bringing radical transformation to your personal identity and your closest relationships. Look back to the prior two Aquarius eclipses on August 7, 2017, and February 15, 2018, for clues of what might fully come together now.

There will be one last Leo eclipse on January 21, 2019, and then this cycle will be complete. Over the next six months, start speaking up more instead of stuffing things down. You can’t expect people to read your mind, which is why you need to express and assert yourself. And with fiery Mars traveling close to the full moon eclipse, there might be a lot more brewing than you imagined. Let it out, Aquarius—then let it go. You’re ready for a major new chapter, and you don’t need any old baggage weighing you down. Keep your sights set on what’s ahead, and leave the past behind.

Love & Romance

Feeling hot, hot, hot…or not, not, not? With passionate Mars powered down in retrograde in your sign all month, your mojo could be muted. Like summer fireworks that don’t fully go off, there could be a few duds in the lineup, so don’t get impatient or angsty about it. This month, put the focus back on yourself instead of getting all worked up about someone else’s nonsense.

When Mars is powering forward in direct motion, the red planet blesses you with an extra blast of confidence and charisma, but when it’s in low-power mode, you might be feeling tired, off your game, or just “blah.” Luckily, you’ll get a do-over from September 10 to November 15, when Mars will return to Aquarius for a second retrograde-free trip—and your sex appeal will be off the charts once more. Not that your sexy lights are completely shut off, Aquarius; just on dimmers. Retrogrades can bring back the past, so don��t be surprised if exes reappear, especially those “bad boy/girl” types that are oh-so tempting for you—if not necessarily your smartest menu selection. You might be more argumentative, or, if you’ve been biting your tongue, unable to suppress that anger, which could lead you to lash out…and then wind up regretting your rashness.

Lean in to the action on the other side of your chart to keep the peace and work through any fights. Diplomatic Venus is traipsing through Leo and your partnership zone until July 9. This can help you resolve sticky issues and find a way to get BOTH of your needs met. (It can also shine a light on a worthy prospect if you’re single.) It’s worth the effort now, before communicator Mercury goes retrograde in Leo and your partnership house from July 26 to August 19 and heaps on more confusion and tension. Things could really come to a head on July 27 at the Aquarius total lunar eclipse, when you’re not likely to hold ANYTHING back!

When Venus enters Virgo and your super-intense eighth house on July 9, you could radar in on one special person or deepen your bonds all around. In spite of Mars acting up, this is a wonderful time for intimacy and sensuality—even to share some top-secret fantasies!

Throughout the month, Venus will form flowing trines to innovative Uranus (July 11), structured Saturn (July 14) and transformational Pluto (July 27), all in the most sensitive and emotional houses of your chart. These three golden angles strengthen your mind-body-soul connection with a partner and support being vulnerable enough to talk about your needs. The takeaways: You don’t always have to be tough and together, Water Bearer. All that’s required is being human.

Key Dates

July 14: Venus-Saturn Trine Has a relationship been running on autopilot so long that you haven’t checked in with yourself lately to make sure you feel emotionally safe? Today’s supportive alignment of loving Venus and structured Saturn can give you clarity about your needs and desires. Broaching this subject may feel awkward, but it can help you reach a new level of commitment, like moving in together, getting engaged or talking babies.

Money & Career

This is a giant month for your career, Aquarius! The Sun is making its fastidious trek through Cancer and your orderly sixth house until July 22, backed by a game-changing solar eclipse on July 12. This is a perfect time to hire helpful underlings, delegate and outsource, and get all your systems in smooth working order.

But the second week of the month really delivers! When expansive Jupiter powers forward (direct) in Scorpio and your career sector on July 10, big changes could be afoot on your professional path. Between now and November 8, you might leave one role, take on a whole new set of responsibilities or part ways with a client. Don’t cling to the familiar, Aquarius. Adventurous Jupiter can bring in people and projects that totally exceed your expectations. A long-distance job offer could arrive, or you might surprise yourself by considering a relocation. Work that involves management, an executive role or public appearances could take off. In transition? Consider working with a mentor or tapping a seasoned colleague to take you under their wing.

Although Jupiter pushes you to leap without looking, other cosmic forces might step on the brakes. While go-getter Mars is powered down in retrograde from June 26 until August 27, rushing can yield second-rate results. On top of that, Mars is retrograde in Aquarius until August 12, which could throw off your timing or ramp up the tension on a passion project. You might come across as overly pushy if you’re not careful—or you could second-guess your ideas and lose confidence (and steam). Making matters worse, communication planet Mercury is retrograde in Leo from July 26 to August 19 in your partnership and contracts house, which could muddle deals and negotiations. Argh!

If a successful resolution doesn’t feel imminent, use July and August to revise and tweak before presenting your plans or making a life-changing decision. A good target time frame is between September 10 and November 15, when Mars will make a second (retrograde-free) trip to Aquarius, blessing you with a bonus round of magnetism and appeal. Who knows? With some extra prep time, you can unleash something bigger and better. And you’ll feel confident enough to go forward with a big change without having a complete freak-out after committing.

The one exception to this might come at the July 27 Aquarius total lunar eclipse, a day that could put your name in lights. If you do have something to pitch, promote or perform this month, you’ll have some extra oomph, as this “momager” of an eclipse pushes you onto center stage, ready or not! You’ve been building up to this moment for almost two years, Aquarius. If you’ve dreamed of flying solo or putting your unique stamp on something, now’s your chance. Don’t hold back!

Key Dates

July 9: Mercury-Jupiter Square You can’t always be in sync with everyone. Under today’s starry face-off, you might butt heads with a colleague, or a client may have a totally different idea about the specifics of a project. If you can’t come to a meeting of the minds, take a step back and rethink your position.

Love Days: 10, 14 Money Days: 19, 30 Luck Days: 18, 27 Off Days: 12, 16, 25

#aquarius #monthly forecast #horoscope #horoscopes #astrology #aquarius monthly

114 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 6 years

Text

Heartbreaking

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood, feat. Bruce Wayne/Batman

Rating: PG-13 (for torture)

Original Idea: I came up with it randomly with the dialogue at the beginning.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is violent. So don’t read this if you it triggers or makes you uncomfortable. @welovegroot @batboys-and-other-messes

^^^^^

"Jason! Jason! No, no, no, no, no! JASON!"

There was nothing more heartbreaking or soul-wrenching to Jason Todd than hearing the love of his life screaming his name, begging for him to save her, and being completely unable to do anything.

He struggled against the ropes holding him to the chair. In vain.

One Hour Earlier…

"Hey babe. What's up?" Jason asked, strolling into my apartment with a grin on his face full of mischief.

"I'm just cleaning the house. What's up with you?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to join me for lunch. There's this lovely little café up the street and this one rooftop where the view is absolutely incredible. Care to join?"

"Sure."

We went to the café and ordered lunch, then climbed a fire escape to the top of an apartment building from which we could see downtown Gotham. I leaned against Jason's arm as we ate our lunch.

"Jay?"

"Mm?"

"Have I mentioned today that I love you?"

"No. But I never get tired of hearing it."

Something rumbled below us. We both glanced at each other. "What was that?" I asked.

"I don't know…" Jason muttered.

The second rumbling was an explosion in the building. Down on a lower floor.

Jason hauled me to my feet unceremoniously. "We gotta get to the ground," he said, pulling me urgently over to the fire escape.

Before we could reach it, the roof caved in.

I shrieked as it swallowed me.

The last thing I heard was Jason's agonized scream of my name.

I blacked out.

^^^^^

When I woke up, there was a man standing over me. He wore a black mask and a scary smirk. There was something in his hand. It looked like a cane but… well. I grew up in Gotham. Things weren't always exactly what they seemed. He could have hidden a blade, or even some form of gun, inside the cane.

"The love of the Red Hood," he snarled. "The perfect leverage."

"Don't you touch her!" Jason's voice snarled from somewhere nearby. There was a noise like he was struggling against restraints. Which he probably was.

I managed to clear my vision enough that by the time my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness I could see Jason lashed to a chair.

On the other hand, I was lying on my side on the floor with my arms bound behind my back and my ankles tied. Someone had also removed my shoes. For some reason. I swallowed nervously. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

The man in the black mask turned to look at Jason. "Consider this payback for everything you did to try to bring me down," he snapped.

He flipped the cane so he was holding onto the end that was meant to go on the ground---and whacked me across the face with the handle.

The pain that exploded on my cheekbone was intense. I shrieked, more on instinct than anything else, and curled up.

Another blow---this one to my ribs.

And another. My leg.

Jason was shouting and swearing, but I could barely hear him past the beating of my own heart in my ears. "You son of a---let her go! She's innocent you---!" There was more thrashing as he tried to escape his bonds. My ears tuned in and out, like when I'd take sleeping medication and drift in and out of consciousness.

More pain exploded in my gut as the cane's handle was driven into it. I cried out and gagged.

"Jason! Jason!" I pleaded, wincing away from the man in the black mask backswinging for another strike. "No, no, no, no, no!" I curled tighter, desperately wishing to be anywhere else. Somewhere my skin had split because my blood was on the floor. "JASON!" I screamed.

The cane struck me in the chest.

The man in the black mask threw the cane to the side while I vaguely heard Jason threatening to kill said man. "Take her away," the man ordered. "Lock her up until she stops crying. Then we'll start again."

Was I? Was I crying? I couldn't tell. Everything hurt and I didn't have the brain space to be conscious of tears.

Two men loomed from the shadows. They each grabbed one of my arms and yanked me to my feet, nearly dislocating my shoulders.

Since my ankles were still bound they had to drag me down dark corridors and into a cell. I got flung onto a cot and left there, still bound up and hurting. I allowed myself to sob like I hadn't since my very first heartbreak. My breath hitched in my lungs and tears streamed down my face.

Somewhere, I thought I heard Jason shouting and swearing more. Though it could have just been my imagination. Probably just was my imagination.

I closed my eyes, still letting tears flow with reckless abandon, and did my best to relax. If I did that, the pain wasn't as bad. I was too tired to even care. My injuries were going to bruise and wherever my skin split open might scar, but I'd be okay. I repeated that like a mantra. I'll be okay. I'll be okay. I'll be okay…

I had never been less okay, and I knew it. But I couldn't admit it.

I let out a little, "Ow," of pain and huddled against the wall. "Jason. Jason…" I whispered.

^^^^^

"Master Bruce? Master Jason and his girlfriend went out to lunch three hours ago and have not returned, nor sent any word of their well-being," Alfred said to Bruce. The latter scrunched his eyebrows.

"Did you track the girl's cell phone?"

"I thought it best to wait for your decision. Shall I?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Keys tapped as Bruce slung his cape over his shoulders and pulled his cowl on.

"Her last known location was near the apartment building where Master Jason likes to watch the sunset. But currently the signal is unresponsive."

"I'll see if I can track them down. Do me a favor and call Dick. I might need backup."

"What about Master Damian?"

"What's he doing?"

"Sleeping."

"Let him sleep. I think Dick will be all the backup I need. If he's not available, call Cassie. She should have a few minutes to spare."

"Yes Master Bruce."

Bruce climbed into the Batmobile and sped off.

^^^^^

Jason paced his cell along the same path so many times he thought he was going to wear down the concrete. "C'mon. There's gotta be a way to get out of here… Escape… hinge bolts…" he muttered to himself.

He pounded on the door. "Hey! How about you guys come in here so I can turn you black and blue? Seems a fair price to pay for beating an innocent girl with a cane!" he shouted through the glass. "How about you let me out and see how fun I can be! I swear when I get out of here I'm going to tear down Black Mask's empire once and for all, just because he hurt her!"

He kicked the door with the side of his foot, growled in frustration, and went back to pacing, stalking up and down the cell, trying hard to keep himself from lashing out violently. If he did, he'd injure himself and he couldn't afford injuries when he escaped…

^^^^^

I moaned in pain as I tried to move. I was stiff, but my position was the least painful I'd been able to find.

I was already bruising. I could see it on my leg and my chest.

Breathing hurt where I'd been struck in the ribs. My head was pounding. So was my heart.

I closed my eyes against the cold of the cell and strained my ears, listening for Jason. I couldn't hear anything, no matter how much I blocked out visual stimulus to focus on listening.

That didn't surprise me. The walls felt like they were made of concrete. Sound didn't travel particularly well through concrete. Especially when it was a foot thick.

The door opened with a thunk.

I sniveled and curled up against the wall, wanting to be anywhere but here, trying to shrink away from whoever was at the door.

Hands grabbed my shoulders. They were a little rough, but they weren't yanking me around. "You're okay now. I'm going to get you out of here," a deep voice said.

I opened my eyes. "I'm dreaming," I said.

Batman's gaze searched my body, scanning my injuries. "You're not. It's me. I'm really here. And I'm going to go get Jason out. And then we're going to come back for you, got it?"

"Uh…" My brain was still foggy and I wasn't entirely certain I wasn't asleep. "Sure?"

"Okay. Be right back. Stay here and don't leave."

"Not goin' anywhere, B-man."

Batman almost smiled. "You've been hanging around Jason too long."

I shrugged---and then stopped because it hurt.

Batman swooped out of the cell and vanished. I stayed where I was, too damaged to move.

It felt like only seconds later strong arms were lifting me off the cot. "Oh baby. You're going to be okay. I promise," Jason whispered into my hair.

I "Hmm"ed in response.

"Let's go, Hood," Batman said, pushing Jason's red helmet onto his son's head. I curled up against Jason's chest. "Follow me, let me do the fighting. Whatever happens, keep her safe."

"Preachin' to the choir, old man," Jason said.

The two of them started running, Jason holding me tight.

"It's going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay," he vowed.

#Heartbreaking #Jason Todd #Jason Todd Imagine #Jason Todd FanFiction #Red Hood #Red Hood Imagine #Red Hood FanFiction #DC #DC Imagine #DC FanFiction #BatFam #BatFam Imagine #BatFam FanFiction

36 notes · View notes

imagine-it-ouran · 6 years

Text

Secrets

Rating: PG13

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Trigger Warning: Self-harm, self-hatred, depression, anxiety.

Summary: Kaoru knew what those wounds were from. How had he not been caught sooner? Why had it been Kaoru to find this out and not someone else? It might have hurt less if it had been anyone else. “Kaoru...”

Finally, a day off from school had come around. Kyoya could lay in bed all day and revert back to his usual state away from the public. He could sleep all day and blame it on being exhausted from a hard week in school and not from this crippling depression telling him there was no point in doing anything. The only thing that got him out of bed during the week was the overwhelming anxiety telling him he will never succeed and will amount to nothing if he didn’t just get out of bed and do his work in school. Of course, the anxiety still affected him during his days off, but he pushed it back into his brain and tried to just deal with it. Sometimes it was possible. Other times, not so much.

Today, however, the sun shone in through the blinds on his sliding glass door right next to his bed. He didn’t need the anxiety and stress to shake him awake. But whether he needed it or not, it still came around and poked at him like kids trying to wake an angry bear with a stick. A date had been scheduled today; a date between himself and his boyfriend, Kaoru. The one day he’d get to stay in bed and he couldn’t do that.

This always happened.

He’d make plans with someone and be happy with them. He would be excited, even, to go through with this plans later. But, no matter who it was these appointments were made with, Kyoya would dread them when the day came. It was like the eerie voice in his sick brain would tell him it would all go to shit and he might as well cancel. He might as well play like he was sick. But he couldn’t do that today. He couldn’t do that to this boy who seemed to be helping him a little. Kaoru was so good for him and he had no right to let Kaoru down like that.

So he sucked it up. Kyoya pulled himself out of bed, no matter how badly he just wanted to avoid everything by curling up under the sheets again. He had already woken up later than he was supposed to. It was already half past eleven and he had yet to shower and brush his teeth. Kyoya pulled it together, though, and he stalked down the steps in his room and to the dressers on the first level. The outfit he chose was blindly picked from the drawers, not much thought was given to them. Black pants with a casual button-up shirt. It was grey. Neutral and faded, even his clothes seemed to reflect the way he felt about the world. Indifferent and foggy.

After a hot shower and a poor attempt at making his hair look neater than the bedhead he had earlier, Kyoya grabbed his phone to see if he had gotten anything. Not surprisingly, he had. Texts from Tamaki, mostly, but one text from Kaoru that was sent at nine. It was simple; a good morning text similar to every other good morning text he had received from this new love of his. If you could even call it that. Their date was set for one in the afternoon at Kyoya’s home. Nothing too extravagant. It could hardly be called a date, really, they were just lounging around with each other. They had just wanted a lazy day together.

He texted back; another good morning text only this was sent a quarter past twelve. Kyoya wondered if it was too late to cancel. That gnawing urge in his brain made it hard not to just send something about feeling sick. He put his phone down, though. He felt empty and unmotivated to do anything.

There was always a way to cope with that deadening feeling. Sure, it wasn’t healthy, but it worked. The pain was a better feeling than feeling nothing at all and he could do anything to bring this feeling unto himself. Digging his nails into his skin, dragging a blade across his flesh in all sorts of places, punching into his leg when frustrated. There were little things he could do and he’d done them. It had become an addiction. How was it he had never been found out at this point? He didn’t have time to think about that, though. If Kyoya let his mind wander, he’d find himself too deep in thought over it to be able to focus on the younger twin. He couldn’t let himself get like that with Kaoru over. He couldn’t, he couldn’t he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Kyoya had to focus on something, anything, to keep from falling down the rabbit hole. In order to keep from tipping over an edge he’d been inching closer to day by day, he decided he’d try and pick up his already clean room. His brain was fuzzy as he made his way back into his room, floaty as he picked up any trash around the room. Empty water bottles that sat by his bed were tossed in the trash and any dust was wiped away until he heard knocking at his door. Before he knew it, it was fifteen past one and Kaoru was coming over. That floaty and tired feeling slowly lifting as he went and opened the door.

A smile and a chaste kiss on the lips brought Kyoya back down to Earth. They sat on the couch and Kaoru leaned on the elder teen. His rested on Kyoya’s shoulder and Kyoya swore he could breathe again.

“I like this,” Kaoru muttered after several minutes of suffocating silence. “I like being here with you. It’s so quiet and calming. Don’t you think?” Calming to Kaoru, a space for anxious overthinking to Kyoya.

The red-headed boy glanced up at Kyoya, golden hazel meeting glassy silver-tones eyes. Those amber eyes pulled the oxygen out of Kyoya’s lungs and all he could think about was how they could comfort him. He nodded slowly, unable to find the words to speak but fully able to find enough sense to lean in for another kiss. This one was longer, sweeter. This kiss was a thank you that was understood by both of the boys.

Small kisses like these showed each boy how grateful they were for each other. Kisses, hand holding, gentle touches on faces and shoulders; they were all little signs to tell they loved each other without actually saying it. They didn’t need to say it.

Their kiss soon separated and Kaoru went back to resting his head on Kyoya’s shoulder. His and Kaoru’s fingers were laced together and he watched as the younger male’s thumb ran over his knuckles. That calming feeling Kaoru had spoken about just moments earlier washed over Kyoya in this relieving wave. Numbness morphed into contentment. He may not have been fully happy but at least he felt something other than nothing or pain. He felt free. He felt free with his boyfriend as silence filled the room again. They were comfortable on the couch together, sat in quietness as the Earth felt still. Everything felt calm and okay.

After a while, Kaoru shifted. His hand slithered from Kyoya’s but the elder hadn’t thought of it. He hadn’t thought of it until his hand snaked around his waist, brushing a few bruises and new marks. Pain and soreness were two different things, two different reactions from Kyoya. Regrettably, Kyoya felt relief with pain. It was truly addictive for him. Soreness caused him to flinch, however. That flinch caught Kaoru’s attention, brought those amber eyes back to steel. Instead of admiration, Kyoya saw a strong hint of concern. “You okay?” He asked. So simple and short but the weight in his voice was heavy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Kyoya found his voice, as collected as always. It was eerily easy for him to lie like that to Kaoru. But it didn’t go undetected. Whether Kyoya was relieved by the fact or worried, he wasn’t sure.

It was obvious in those fiery eyes that Kaoru didn’t believe it. The way his lips turned down in an unconvinced frown and his brows knit together, Kyoya just knew he didn’t believe him. Anything more that Kyoya could do simply felt as if he was challenging Kaoru and he couldn’t do that. “No, you’re not.”

The words cut through brief silence while also cutting through Kyoya like a knife.

“Seriously, what’s up? Are you hurt?” All Kyoya could do was shake his head, once again having the words stolen from his mouth. “Then you won’t mind if I check? After seeing your dad slap you in front of an entire party, I don’t want to just gloss over something like this.”

It was getting aggravating, frustrating, really. The way Kaoru was pressing this, it was almost like he was trying to rip the mask off of Kyoya’s face. It felt as if he was forcing that facade that no one else was allowed to see through away. That vexation showed as Kyoya rolled his eyes at the request. “No. Trust me, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, show me.” Kaoru wasn’t letting up and it became even more apparent as he reached for Kyoya’s shirt. He had grabbed a hold of the fabric and the action had Kyoya’s heart beating so fast, he thought it’d burst in his chest. The elder tried grabbing at the smaller wrists but he could only do so much as his skin was shown. Fleshy pink scars that formed little hills on his skin and some new marks creating craters could be seen. It was like Kyoya was underwater. He felt like the wind was knocked out of him.

Those eyes, so happy and bright moments ago, were darkened and disappointed. Kaoru clearly knew what those wounds were from. How had he not been caught sooner? Why had it been Kaoru to find this out and not someone else? It might have hurt less if it had been anyone else. “Kaoru-” He tried to say something but he didn’t know what he was trying to say. An apology, maybe?

Kaoru sighed softly and Kyoya was sure he was going to get an ear-full. Instead, he was met with one question. “When did this start?”

He shrugged in response, still unsure of what to say. Kyoya opened his mouth to try and say something but struggled. It was as if he couldn’t breathe and Kaoru seemingly understood just how scary this had become for Kyoya. He felt Kaoru’s arms wrap around his waist again, a little more gentle this time. He felt the younger twin’s face buried into his neck and heard him sigh. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other tightly.

“I love you, okay,” Kaoru muttered. Kyoya didn’t feel much but he registered a bit of shock. “You shouldn’t be doing this to yourself, you don’t deserve it. And it hurts me to see this from you.” His voice was soft and soothing and Kyoya closed his eyes. He just needed this right now.

Kaoru was really good for Kyoya.

#ouran imagines #ouran high school host club #ouran headcanons #ouran #Tamaki Suoh #Hikaru Hitachiin #Kaoru Hitachiin #hitachiin twins #Haruhi Fujioka #Kyoya Ootori #kyoya imagines #kyoya #kyokao #ootori kyoya #ohshc #ohshc imagines #suoh tamaki #suoh

54 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Old Flame, New Problems (Part 13)

Prompt: You’re in a serious relationship with Sebastian Stan, when news from your first love informs you that he’s now single and in need of a friend. Will your old flame burn out or will the flames get fanned and consume you?

Word Count: 3011

Warning: language, angst, fighting (verbal), cheating, drama

Notes: This idea came to me when news hit about Hayden and Rachel splitting. Of course I’m sad that a long time relationship such as theirs is ending, but it also means he’s single sooo…Also, no hate towards Rachel. I don’t know her, don’t know what really happened between them, etc. It’s a fic and in no way reflects what I think of either of them or their precious daughter ^.^

Beta’d by my #1 gal @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @mellsstark @crazybutconfidentaf

Old Flame Tag: @blackwidow-romanoff @seargantbcky

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Thanksgiving looming, you weren’t trying to get into too many projects, seeing as you’d have to step away from them. Instead, you took a break from writing constantly to read some fellow people’s work. Some of it published, some of it was work they’d sent to you for you to look over.

You hadn’t thought of Hayden’s proposal much. Well, actually, it was all you’d thought about. How could you not? You’d waited for Hayden for years...You had never stopped wanting him. But you still loved and wanted Sebastian just as much. Was your desire for Hayden enough to trump the life you’d built with Sebastian? To make you forget all of your feelings for him? How could you? How do you just go to the man you currently love and tell him you’re leaving him for your old love?

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to break Sebastian’s heart. You felt right being with him….but then again you felt right with Hayden too.

The thoughts and conflicting feelings had been swirling within you for a couple of days. After the talk at the hotel, you and Hayden ate food, sat like friends, and watched TV. Before you left, he asked if you would think about it again. You told him you might.

In the days since, it hasn’t ever left your head, but deep down, you knew you’d never leave Sebastian on a whim that maybe you and Hayden might work. Sure, you worked back then, and the spark was still there but you weren’t sure it was enough to make you just throw it all away….Or maybe it was...You’d waited for this for a long time, to wait for him to say he was ready to try again.

Your brain was a giant foggy cloud of confliction and you were trying your best to focus the energy somewhere else. Of course, you didn’t tell Sebastian. There was no point for another fight or another reason for him to wonder if you were leaving him…So you kept the proposal to yourself and until you figured it out, you weren’t going to discuss it with either man.

Sebastian was in your shared office rummaging around, looking for an old script while you lay on the couch in the living room, reading a manuscript your colleague sent. While he was pushing papers all around, he found a stack of handwritten poems and small stories. They didn’t look like anything you’d ever published, so he became curious and began reading them, excited to read some of your work you hadn’t shared with the world yet.

But as his eyes followed the words on the paper, his stomach sank, and his heart felt cold. These were love poems and short love stories...Dated within the past few months...and they weren’t about him. You never mentioned a name, but he didn't need a name. Especially since at one point, you even mentioned golden blonde hair in a passage. He flipped through them. Each one different, but all circulating the same man.

He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to scream, to throw the papers, to burn them, to throw them at you. He wanted an explanation. After calming himself, he decided to go get one.

He came out of the room, the stack of papers in his hand, holding them up. He marched over to you on the couch.

“Is this how you feel?” he demanded, his tone soft.

“Sebastian? What?” you asked, sitting up to see what he was talking about. Your eyes landed on the papers and you instantly knew. Your heartbeat quickened. “Seb. No...Wait, those weren’t supposed to see the light of day.”

“Answer me...please,” he begged in a choked voice. “Is this how you feel?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “But I love you. I’m in love with you. I choose you,” you said quickly.

Sebastian bit his lip, his hands on his hips as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He took a deep breath and sat next to you on the couch. He knew what he had to do.

“We should...talk, then,” he offered.

“Sebastian, there is nothing to talk about. They’re old, dormant feelings, that’s it,” you tried, sounding desperate. He held up a hand to silence you.

“Y/N...I’m not mad...I’m hurt...not mad...You and Hayden….You share history. You’re each other’s first love...I get that.” He stopped for a moment, his eyes on the floor, his hands rubbing together in a worried manner. “What I also understand is that there’s no way for you to get over each other when you didn’t have any way to do that. You told me about Hayden when we first started to date, about how you ended things. You never told me that you still felt that way. But I always wondered. I mean, thinking about it for me, if there were someone I just parted ways with not due to compatibility, or cheating, or anything, I think it would be hard to just...sever ties.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, terrified.

“I’m saying...I’d like you to go be with him,” he said, his voice heavy.

“Sebastian, no, that’s crazy. I love you,” you answered, worried he was trying to break up with you.

He turned to face you on the couch. “And I love you. This is why I’m doing this. The night all the roses were here? There was a reason I was so upset. It wasn’t about the effort or anything...I was going to propose that night…”

Your heart stopped.

“You...you…” you stammered, unable to form a sentence, your heartbeat was so loud and thunderous, your palms were sweating. Sebastian was going to propose but now he’s telling you to go be with another man? Had he fallen out of love and was trying to let you down easy? Was he just too tired of the back and forth with Hayden?

He nodded while slowly closing and opening his eyes. “Yeah. I was. And...I still want to share a life with you...But I want to do it, knowing you have no regrets. No lingering questions. No ‘what ifs’. I don’t want you to be with me and think of him as the one that got away.”

“I won’t,” you vowed, scooting closer to him.

“Well, call me insecure, but I’d like to be sure. I’d like you to be sure. Frankly, it isn’t fair of me. I was going to propose, hoping that if you were my fiance, you would forget all about him. Lay off hanging out with him. But I can’t do that to you. If I want to share a life with you, I can’t get engaged and force you to want to be with me. I see the way you look at him, the way you are when you’re around him, when you talk to him. If we're going to do this, if we’re really going to commit our lives to each other, I want the past to be in the past and the future to be ours.”

“I can do that,” you promised.

He smiled at you. “I know you can try, but we both know that until you get a shot with him again, you’ll never know. So I propose an idea,” he said, nodding.

“Okay, I’m willing to do anything.”

“You date him,” he said point blank.

“What?” you gasped as if you didn’t hear him. You did, but you thought you were hallucinating.

“Date him. Look, the only way to put this to rest is to let you explore all of those feelings you have. Think of it as a hall pass. You’ll go up there, pretend we never dated, and you can do whatever you want with him. You can go on dates, kiss him, you can sleep with him, you can watch Dexter all day long if you want and never touch each other. I just want you to be with him, as if you were a real couple.”

Between your heart and your mind you didn’t know which one was going faster. “But...how? Why?”

“Well...if I tell you you can’t have him, you’ll always go through life wondering if you should’ve chosen him. Y/N, if you choose me, then I want to do that knowing I had a fair shot at your heart. So if allowing you to explore those feelings does that, then I’m willing to do it.”

“But...How do I know if I’m done or…? I mean how does this work?”

“I figure you can go up whenever you’re ready. You spend as long as you need, do whatever you need, and then you let me know,” he stated.

His words slowly sank into you. He was giving you permission to be with Hayden….for however long you needed.

“What guarantee do you have that I’ll come back?” you whispered, tears in your eyes.

“I don’t,” he quietly said with a small laugh through his nose as he put a stray hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your neck. “But as someone very wise once said, ‘if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn’t, then it was never meant to be.’”

“So you’re willing to just...let me go?” you asked. In one sense you felt elated and free. Free of having to pretend you felt nothing for Hayden...in another, your heart was breaking. Was he just trying to get rid of you by saying you could go be with Hayden?

“No, I’m not very willing to let you go. But...in this sense...If you go to him, and do everything imaginable with him. Talk, ask questions, make it nothing but physical, I don’t care. You do whatever you need to do to figure out how you feel about him. But...if you’re with him, and you choose me, then we’ll know once and for all it’s over and you and I can move forward...But,” he continued, his voice dropping a bit, “if you don’t return to me...then we’ll both have our answer. Besides, it’s not just you and me I’m doing this for. Hayden deserves to know too. I know he loves you. As an upstanding gentleman, I’d like him to know I don’t intend on keeping you hostage. I want you to make this decision informed, with no questions, no wonders, no regrets, no what ifs. I want us to once and for all, know who your heart belongs to.”

“Sebastian...I...I don’t even know what to say,” you said. You were stunned beyond belief. Was this real? Was he really sure? “Seb...Are you sure? If I go through with this, if I spend a week or a month up there...and I come back to you, are you sure you’d want me?”

“I’ll always want you,” he promised before leaning in to kiss you. “I swear. It’s a hall pass. And only yours. I’m not on the market while you’re doing this. I will wait, patiently, for you to make your decision. So don’t be afraid to do whatever you need to to figure out your feelings.”

“And you won’t be hurt? Or mad? Or jealous?” you wondered.

“I can’t promise that, because I don’t know what I’ll feel, but I know I’ll accept you with open arms if you choose me, no matter what happens. And if you choose him, I’ll understand, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Your eyes slowly went down to your lap. You had absolutely no idea what you were feeling.

“Why are you doing this for me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Because I love you, and I’m tired of seeing you struggle with this. I’m tired of all of us going through this. I just want your happiness, and if this is the way to do it, well it’s a small price to pay…” His eyes cast down for a moment, as he spoke. “I can pretend all the live long day that you don’t love him, or wished you loved me more, or wish you didn’t need to figure out who to choose. But at the end of the day, I know that it’s possible a person can love two people at once. And I just want to make this easy on all of us.” He reached up, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. I still love you. I still want you. I still want to share my life with you. I am not leaving you, okay?” he said, making sure you understood. “Okay?”

You nodded.

“Then why are you crying?” he asked with a small chuckle. “I thought you’d be happy with this compromise?”

“I am,” you said in a thick voice. “But I know someone's going to get hurt…” And then the water works broke through and you broke down, sobbing heavily as Sebastian wrapped you in his arms.

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

After some more crying, you had finally calmed down and talked to Sebastian some more.

“Well, I need to ask Hayden if it’s okay. I mean, I don’t want to go up there, and have him fall in love all over again just for me to possibly break his heart,” you informed.

“That’s fair. I want him to be completely in the loop on this.”

You nodded, called, and invited him over, and told him that it was important.

He arrived, hugged you, and he sat down on the stool at the bar, beside you while Sebastian made him a drink.

“So...what’s up?” he asked, eyeing everyone, feeling the atmosphere in the room.

“We have a proposition,” Sebastian stated.

“Not sure I like this, but okay. Go ahead,” he said.

The two of you explained the proposal and waited for his reaction. He didn’t seem to have question or interrupt the entire time.

“So...what do you think?” you asked, leaning on the bar.

“I think...this could be a disaster,” he said truthfully.

“It’s not...ideal,” you agreed. “But I think we can all agree we aren’t sure where we stand with one another,” you stated. “I’d like to know once and for all if we’re over Hayden or if...maybe we were meant to be. I know Seb wants to know too. If you don’t want to do it...that’s fine, I’d get it.”

He thought for a moment. “Well, when and how would we do this?”

Sebastian answered, “Whenever Y/N is ready, and preferably up at your farm. It’s remote, no press, and it’ll give you two more privacy to figure this out.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Hayden inquired incredulously, eyeing Seb.

“It was my idea.”

“And if she chooses me?”

“Then I hope she’s happy,” he simply said with a small shrug. You loved him so much in that moment. “Come on, man, you can’t tell me you don’t want another shot. Besides, if she chooses you, then we'll finally settle this shit. And if she chooses me, well then you weren’t really losing her anyway, were you?” Seb asked, and it wasn’t an insult or a jab, but a simple reminder that this was simply a test run.

Hayden made an indecipherable face but nodded.

“Okay. Well, let’s do it then,” he said. You saw Seb tense for a fraction of a second before relaxing. “When do you want to go?” he asked.

“Well, I’d like to wait until the first of December. Your shooting is still going on and we have Thanksgiving to think about.”

“What about it?” Hayden questioned, curious.

“Seb is supposed to come down to my house, to see my family. They’re really excited to see him again and I don’t want to lie or explain what’s going on. I think it’d just be easier if we stuck to our plan.”

“That’s fair,” Sebastian stated. “You good with that?” he asked, nodding to Hayden.

“Yeah. S’fine.”

“So when we’re together,” you wondered idly, “do you want me to call you Sebastian or…?’

He shook his head in response. “No, I want you two to pretend I don’t exist. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t look at the news. Pretend it’s a romantic getaway, unplugged, just you two.”

A sad, half-hearted chuckle came out of you. “I can’t believe my boyfriend is sending me on a romantic getaway with another guy.”

He gave a half smile. “If this is what it takes for your heart to figure out what it wants.”

An awkward moment of silence fell over you all for a while.

“Okay, so until you come up and stay with me, what do we do?’ Hayden asked.

“We go on like normal. I’d appreciate if you two didn’t talk much, giving me and Y/N time to be a couple before she joins you. She and I will be a normal couple, nothing changed between us. But then the moment she leaves this apartment to meet you back at your farm, she’s not mine. She’s off limits for me,” Seb explained to Hayden.

The two of you nodded in response. This idea was crazy, but honestly, it’s what you needed. You wanted Hayden. You had since you saw him while you were still in the taxi on his farm, and whether or not you were hanging out never changed that. You knew you loved Sebastian with all your heart, and knowing that he wanted to marry you, well you wanted to marry him too. A life with Sebastian seemed pretty great. But he was right. You knew you’d go through life wondering if you should’ve just given you and Hayden another shot. Ever since the breakup, that’s all you had wanted. Another shot to prove you and Hayden could make it, that distance, careers, time - none of it mattered.

So this is the way it had to be.

#old flame new problems #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen x reader

64 notes · View notes

screamingatanemptyroom · 7 years

Text

Writing Prompt #1 :“Why are you so eager to die?” “Because it’s the only way that I can get home.”

“Why are you so eager to die?”

“Because it’s the only way that I can get home.”

I shivered, unable to tell whether it was the freezing wind cutting through my light t-shirt and running shorts , or the sheer hopelessness of his words causing the reaction.

He was beautiful. Standing on the side of the cliff, poised to take the leap into the darkness below, my horrified mind kept cataloguing insignificant details of his appearance. His skin was so light it was almost blue, taking on an almost unearthly glow in the few rays of sunlight. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, a dark green similar to my own. His blond hair fell messily around his face, getting into his eyes. I wanted to brush it out of the way, to hug him and tell him it was okay, but I was afraid any movement in his direction would precipitate his jumping. I should have been thinking of a plan, not staring at him silently. I should call someone: 911, the suicide hotline, my mother… Well, maybe not my mother, it was still 5AM and she would have just gotten home, dropping on the couch in a drunken stupor. It was her fault I was out here running instead of sleeping, her snide comments of “her fat cow” of a daughter hurting more than I wanted to admit. I had drug myself out of bed, put on my barely used running shoes and gone off on the path in the nearby park. I had expected to be cold, miserable and tired. I had not expected to run into a young boy my own age, standing on the edge of a cliff, past the rickety fences and useless warning signs. Poised to jump, he had seemed resigned, accepting of his fate.

Meeting his eyes, I begged him, “Look, I don’t know who you are, or why you are trying to kill yourself, but please, PLEASE think it over. Don’t jump! I know things might seem bad now, but they’ll get better I promise.”

He stared at me blankly, seeming confused by my words.

“You don’t understand, I have to do this. My time here is up.” Again his voice, soft and sad, broke my heart. I angrily brushed the tears from my eyes. Tears wouldn’t help, they never did. I was terrified this strange boy in front of me would die, and I had to help him. Steeling my resolve, I looked him square in the eyes and did something I had never done before. I slowly reached up and grabbed the sweat bands around my wrists, peeling them off to reveal the skin below. I always wore something there, be it a wide bracelet, long sleeves, anything to keep people from seeing the truth.

“You are not the only one who hates being alive.” I spoke quietly, not wanting to startle him, lifting my wrists to his eye level. The scars had faded somewhat, the multiple cuts I had placed there over time fading into small white lines. The skin throbbed with remembered pain, each cut a time I wanted to feel something, anything. Each time I gave in to the deep need to have some physical manifestation of the hurt I felt inside. Each cut too shallow to do what i had secretly wanted, to take my life and leave me broken and silent on the bathroom floor. Each time I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, but I knew deep down inside that I would… and the next time might be the last.

I never had shown anyone my secret shame, the few friends at school I had were casual acquaintances, nothing more, the teachers, the counselors all looked over me and focused on the brighter students, the ones who smiled, laughed and raised their hands in class. My mother and I only spoke to argue, and I was afraid to show her not because I thought she’d stop me.

I was afraid she’d laugh and tell me to finish the job.

But this boy, this lonely green eyed boy standing on the brink of darkness, he wouldn’t judge me, right? Maybe he would understand, turn away from the cliff and take a step towards me. We would hug each other, whisper kind words and tell each other why we wanted to die, why this world had slowly driven us out. I would support him, and he would support me, and we would make it through this.

For a brief shining moment I saw that future unfold in my eyes, hope I never dared to cultivate growing within me. His eyes took it all in, my scars, my tears, my shaking hands. His face, so composed and serene before broke into the ugliness of desperation, his eyes were wide and panicked.

“Don’t worry about me! I have to do this, you don’t understand.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. “ Shit, you weren’t supposed to see this, everyone was supposed to forget about me. ”

Briefly he turned away from the drop ahead of him, and I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I had been holding.

“I know this looks bad, but I need you to trust me. This is what has to happen, everything will be ok.”

I nodded slowly, my brain not processing what he was saying. I just hoped to keep him talking long enough to get him away from the edge.

“Okay, I trust you. Why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on and we can figure things out.”

With a sad smile and clear eyes, he lifted his hand up towards me in a brief wave of farewell.

“In another lifetime maybe, but my time has run out.”

Without breaking my gaze he stepped forward, tumbling into the darkness below.

“NOOOO!” My terrified cry rang out through the foggy morning, startling some nearby birds into flight.

I ran to the edge and dropped down on my knees, gazing out for some sign that the boy was ok. Only darkness met my tear-filled view.

He was gone. I didn’t even know his name.

I stepped through the gates, shaking off the chill of death from my newly minted form. This had been my 99th trip to Earth as a guardian angel, a brief stint on the mortal plane to help guide the lost, but the return trip, requiring a death, never got any easier. This had been a particularly hard case, spending time with a young boy with cancer, keeping him company in the brightly lit hospital room during his final months.

Once the boy had passed, I had received notice that it was time to move on, time to return. This compelling call guided me to the nearest cliff, where only empty space had separated me from paradise.

I had not counted on the young girl with the sad eyes and scarred arms.

“She tried to save me.” I whispered to himself, surprised by the sound of regret in my own voice.

“Matthias! What took you so long? You know we can only hold the portal open for so long. They were ready to condemn you as lost you spent so long getting back to us!”

My friend Michael, technically my boss I suppose, approached eagerly, clapping me on the back in welcome.

“I ran into a complication, a young girl saw me about to pass and thought I was committing suicide.”

I turned to the nearest wall and rested my hand on it briefly, bringing up a visual portal to the mortal realm. The girl knelt at the cliff where I had left her, crying bitterly into her hands. My heart ached, taking in her shaking, lonely form. Where was help for this girl when she needed it? I scowled as I thought about the scars on her wrists, the darkness lurking in her thoughts. She wrestled her own demons, even as she tried to reach out to save me. If only I could have explained what was going on, given her some comfort!

I was so deep in my thoughts that I missed most of Michaels welcoming speech.

“…great job! Of course normally we would give you a few centuries rest before undertaking a new task, but this is unfortunately a special job we feel you are uniquely suited for. “

His words of a new job brought me crashing back to reality.

“What do you mean a new job? I just got back!”

I turned again to portal as he spoke, watching the girl as she continued to cry,

“… special assignment, technically 10 years from your last job in mortal time, and given the sensitive nature of the project, will require the length of a mortal lifespan…”

In the portal, a young man approached from the forest, and upon seeing the crying girl, started forward.

My hands clenched uselessly at my side. What if he meant her harm?

“ …rough life already, some physical and mental abuse. Apparently she meets her soulmate today and goes onto become a pediatric psychiatrist, specializing in adolescent depression and suicide…”

The young man appeared the same age, wearing a dark leather jacket, his hands jammed in the pockets. He hesitated a few steps from her back, as if unsure how to proceed.

“Her work will save hundreds, and several of those saved will go on to save thousands. Very important assignment, really.”

His words barely registered, all my focus was on the face of the young man in the portal. Would he try to hurt her? Would he add to her life so full already of suffering and misery?

“Unfortunately they will be unable to have children, but thats where our little intervention comes in.”

A soft brush of leather was the only sound as the young man’s jacket was draped across the girl’s shoulders. He knelt down before her, brushing her hair away from her face. He slowly hugged her, letting her cry, gently patting her back in a comforting way.

“You will be born to them in 10 years time, and will spend time with them for the remainder of their lives here on earth.”

Sighing with relief, I turned away briefly from the portal to glance at Michael, a few of his words breaking through my stupor.

“Did you say a lifetime assignment? We never stay more than a few months at a time!”

He smiled at me, a little sadly. “You’ve been on one too many difficult assignments, my friend. Your heart is hurting and you can’t help anyone in this state. You will spend one more lifetime on earth, unaware of your origins. You will grow, live and die as a human before you return to us again.”

I stepped back, shocked. “If I can’t remember who I am, how will I accomplish my mission while living down on Earth?”

“Matthias, your mission is to LIVE down on earth. Love your family, live your life. The world will be a better place for it, I promise.” He turned away from me, facing the portal on the wall. “Besides, you’ve already met your new family today, thanks to your last assignment. “

I glanced at the portal, still showing the boy and girl embracing, talking to each other quietly.

“You mean…”

Michael gestured grandly at the portal, “Meet your new mother!”

I turned and started walking briskly towards the departure gates. Once past the golden structures I would be placed back on earth at the correct date and time of my new birth.

“Wait!” Michael called, “There’s no rush! Don’t you want to catch up first?”

I was almost to the gate, I didn’t stop.

“Why are you so eager to be born?”

At these words I paused, turning to my friend wth a bright smile.

“Because it’s the only way that I can get home.“

#writing #writing prompt

48 notes · View notes