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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years

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26. Mirio Togata

Theme: Incubus

Kinks: Wet dreams, somnophilia, non-con, rough sex, breeding

Yeah. I don’t know how male orgasms work, so this will probably be inaccurate. I’m not that big into actually having sex and I’m not in a comfortable level with my male friends how orgasms feel for them. I don’t know what else to tell you.

Very OC Mirio. And you know what else? He’s canonically 18.

Masterlist

Spread your legs for me.

This was a dream and a damned good one at that. Laying on top of you was a young man, ripped like a Greek god. He ordered you around with a honeyed voice. It worked like magic. You opened your legs and allowed him to slip between them. His large, protruding member grazed against your slit before parting your wet folds as powerful-looking hands stood on either side of your head. You stared up from your pillow and into the ocean-blue eyes leering at your body. He snagged your lower lip between his teeth and sucked.

Your eyes snapped back to the blue ones staring at you. You licked your lips. Your mouth was parched; you couldn't speak.

You dared to look down at the body shifting between your legs. You gaped at the small bulge in your lower belly, where the cock was fully seated inside of you. Hips snapped into you, making you arch your back of your mattress.

You feel good, don't you, sunshine?

Don't you worry. Let me take care of everything.

Your legs trembled the next morning. It was worse between your legs, and the muscles of your inner thighs ached with every step. Your lower back screamed at you. When you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you hardly recognized your own reflection. You were pale with dark circles under your eyes. You struggled to remember what time you went to bed. Your mind was running on two brain cells as you tried to work out what happened the night before. You remembered going to bed, but after that, you couldn't remember anything at all. Dreams weren't supposed to be remembered, yet it felt like you had one. In the back of your mind, you saw a man, a handsome man, sharing your bed. He was…inside you. His cock was pounding your insides like nothing else mattered to him except make you come hard. But you couldn't remember if he succeeded.

You scrubbed yourself clean in the shower and ventured back to your bed. Carefully, you peeled back the covers. Sure enough, there was a wet stain. You quickly tore the sheets off your mattress and dumped them in the hamper. No one was going to see, but you felt better with a clean set.

At work, people were already noticing the difference.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" Momo asked.

"Hm?" Was all that you could manage.

"You look like you pulled an all-nighter. Late-night project?"

You shook your head. "No, just had a bizarre dream."

You flitted away before Momo could see the faint blush coming over your cheeks. You fueled yourself with coffee all day in an attempt to stay awake. A knock at your office had you snapping upright in your chair and spinning around to face the door. Mr. Toshinori stood in your doorway.

"L/N, do you have a second?"

You tried not to rub sleep from your eyes.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I'd like to introduce a new colleague to you. He just transferred from a different branch, so I'm showing him around. Togata, this is L/N-san."

You couldn't tell if blood drained from your face or sped towards your face. The other man in your office doorway looked uncomfortably familiar. He was broad as he was tall with a mop of blonde hair. His ocean-blue eyes beamed when he saw you.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, L/N," said Togata. "I'm Mirio. Mirio Togata."

You slowly rose from your chair. You wondered if your skirt was long enough to hide your knocking knees. You reached out to shake his hand and instantly regret that decision. His palm was warm—no, hot. It was hot to the touch, and it took everything you had not to wrench your hand away. Mirio's fingers were giant compared to yours. He gripped your hand almost possessively, but with Mr. Toshinori in the same room, that much Mirio could do. The moment your hands touched, a shiver ran up your spine. You lurched forward and almost fell into Mirio's arms. You clamped your hand over your mouth to prevent your new co-worker and boss from hearing you moan.

"L/N, what's wrong? You look sick," said Mr. Toshinori.

"I think…I think I should go home. I'm not feeling so hot." You managed to stammer out.

"By all means, L/N. If you're not feeling well, you should get some rest. I'll fill out the paperwork, and you can sign it off when you get back."

"Thank you, sir," you mumbled.

Mr. Toshinori and Mirio left the room. You gathered up your stuff, signed out of your computer, and headed out. As you rounded the corner, you felt someone follow behind you. You turned to see Mirio a few steps at your back.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to help you to your car. Mr. Toshinori was kind of enough to let me help you since you don't look so good," said Mirio.

"T-Thanks."

Mirio stayed a few steps behind you rather than walk right at your back. Which you were grateful if anyone asked. The personal space was needed before you passed out. That all changed when you realized that you would have to take the elevator to get to the parking garage below, which meant you had to share it with Mirio standing within arm's reach of you.

The elevator doors closed with a solemn grumble. Your heart pounded inside your chest. You glanced at Mirio from time to time, waiting for him to make a move. Although what should you be expecting? Were you that suspicious of a man you just met just because he looked similar to the one in your wet dream? Coincidence, you thought. It was all just a coincidence. You were silly, really. A niggling doubt in the back of your mind said otherwise. Mirio didn't just look similar to the man in your dream, he was too tentative, and the way his eyes followed you around should have shot up several red flags. You ignored it in favor of acting like a sensible, rational human being.

Mirio caught you looking at him once or twice on the way down that seemed to take a century. He merely smiled and kept his hands to himself. If he indeed was the man from your dream, then he would hesitate to put his hands all over you the moment the elevator's doors closed shut. Someone like that wouldn't give a damn about the security cameras either. His smile made you melt; you were practically a puddle when you exited the elevator. Mirio followed behind as you sprinted for your car. You bit your lip. Was this such a good idea to let a strange know what kind of car you drive and what your license plate read? No, no, that couldn't be the same kind of man Mirio was. He was too polite for that creepiness.

You made it to your car without further incident. Your heart still raced a mile a minute. Mirio stood in the periphery of your vision, never far from your sight. He remained a respectful distance away.

"Thank you so much for your help. I hope we get to work on future projects together," you said as you fished your car keys out of your purse.

"Let me get the door for you."

Mirio moved so quickly that you didn't have time to protest. He plucked the keys from your hand, pressed the button that would unlock the car, and opened the driver-side door for you. Puzzled, you didn't think twice about the matter. You settled your stuff in the passenger seat next to you and buckled in. You bated your eyelashes without thinking anything wrong. A little flirting never hurt right.

"Thank you," you said.

"Not a problem." Mirio beamed. His smile could melt icecaps.

Shutting the door, Mirio leaned through the window you don't remember rolling down.

"I'll see you tonight." His voice was velveteen.

Your brows furrowed at his meaning. You were a deer caught in a pair of headlights when you turned to look at him. Those same ocean-blue eyes held a darker intent than merely working with you. It was the vastness of the open sea, cold and ruthless. His eyes were a void meant to suck you in and drown you in their maddening depths. Mirio's smile dimmed to a smirk, and he walked away. You watched him from your car how he turned away, walked back to the elevator, and climb inside. Before the doors closed him in, you swore that Mirio winked at you before disappearing.

The rest of your day was a blur. You dressed in your favorite pajamas and hoped that some food and mindless channel surfing would solve all your problems. Not only were you not getting paid, but your excuse was also rather lame. As you sat on your couch and stared into your television screen, you wondered when was the last time you got a full night of sleep. You blanked. There had to be a time when you did, but you couldn't remember. Your brain was a jumbled mess, all thanks to those cursed dreams you'd been having. You couldn't even remember the last time you had an ordinary, non-sexy dream with a stranger you hadn't met until today.

You almost loathed it when it grew dark. Night meant bedtime, and bedtime meant dreams. The longer your brain festered on those dreams, the more you grew to dread them. You looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you brushed your teeth. You took a more extended look at the dark circles beneath your eyes and the sullenness taking over your face. Were your cheeks always that shallow? You spat, rinsed, and turned off the light.

Mirio slipped through every wall and door to get inside your apartment. He would climb through every fence in the world just to get to you. Your scent was absolutely divine; it drove him insane with want. He licked his lips as he broke past the last barrier keeping you from him. The path to the bedroom was easy and one that he knew like the back of his hand. Mirio mapped out your entire apartment during his nightly trips.

You paused at your bedside before peeling back the covers. Slowly, you got beneath your blankets and pulled them up to your neck. For the longest time, you lay there stiff as a board under your blanket and sheets. Your eyes darted around the room just to see if your new co-worker was lurking there. You set your phone face down on the nightstand after fifteen minutes of you lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. You flipped your bedside lamp off with a sigh.

You closed your eyes, still expecting Mirio to slink in. The room was silent. The only noise you could make out were the soft footsteps from the people in the apartment above you and the gust of wind against your windowpane. A prayer fell from your lips that whatever was coming for you in the night would leave you be.

He stood at the foot of the bed to watch you sleep. You snuggled up to your blankets like a child seeking protection. A few pieces of cloth weren't enough to protect you from him. Mirio crept a bit closer. When he was stood beside you, he peeled away the blankets and sheets. Lavender wafted up to his nose.

"Changed your sheets after last night, eh? You humans are so peculiar about your habitats. It is a shame, though. I might have wanted you to sleep a little longer in your come. Get you used to it. Oh, well."

His hands worked the buttons of your sleep shirt, and the silken fabric fell away with no more than a gentle tug. Your long bottoms made him scowl. How dare you hide your lovely from him. That alone deserved punishment. You murmured in your sleep as Mirio tugged your pants and underwear down in one go. Tonight, he had no intention of putting you back together again. You would sleep naked after he was done with you. The only thing he wished he could do was to see your face when you woke up and found yourself naked. No matter. Good things come to those who wait.

Mirio wasted no time dishevelling his clothes. Being a demon, he could have easily dissolved them or faded through them. He wanted this to be special and want to remember every detail. The act of stripping down made him feel a bit more compatible with you, a human. It was pretend, a show. Eventually, you would see his proper form and tremble. For now, Mirio settled for having you like this, vulnerable to his power and entirely at his mercy.

He climbed into bed with you and reclined on his side. His tongue ran across his lips just by looking at your body. You shivered in the cold. You should have stirred and awoken to your body bare of even a sheet to protect you from his gaze. Mirio's magic made it impossible for you to open your eyes unless he desired it so. You were going to belong to him shortly enough, but why spoil it now? Mirio thought himself cruel for dragging it out like this but admitted to liking this game.

Mirio ran a finger down the column of your throat and let it trail down to your belly button and back again. He hummed with delight as he touched your smooth skin. He palmed your breast and tweaked your nipple to a stiff peak. Mirio shifted on the bed until his lips found your neck and suckled. He kissed your shoulders and licked your skin. Mirio's large hands groped your chest.

"You fill my hands up nicely, Y/N. Your body feels like it already belongs to me," he murmured against your skin.

Mirio placed his knee against your cunt, rubbing your clit occasionally against the hard muscle. He drew your knees upwards and settled himself firmly between your legs. Kissing your lips, his hands never left your chest. While he kissed your mouth, his hands never ceased to pinch and massage your chest. His cock grew stiff, just thinking about what it would look like sandwiched in the middle of your perfect breasts.

"More time for that later. Let's get down to business, shall we, sunshine?"

Mirio lined his cock against your pussy, now soppy wet from his ministrations. He smiled to himself at how easy it was to manipulate your body towards his needs. If you had been awake, he imagined that your eyes would roll into the back of your head at the stretch. His cock slipped in with only a little resistance. Your walls clenched around his intrusion before easing up. His first thrust helped him bottom out. Mirio closed his eyes at the feel of your body wet, warm, and tight for him. For him alone.

"That's my sunshine. That's my girl. Oh, yes," Mirio grunted.

His hands bruised your hips as he dragged you up and down his cock, forced it to meet him thrust for thrust. While you slept, your walls clamped down around Mirio's cock. He snapped his hips back and forth as he felt your strength leave your body and enter him. Call it 'tit for tat.' Mirio was giving your body all the pleasure it could ever need and the seed it so desperately wanted. The only price was just a little bit of your energy. Soon, very soon, Mirio wouldn't need to take any more from you. He would be able to have you all to himself, and no force on earth could stop him.

Mirio adored the sweet squelching sounds your pussy made as he pounded into it. You were flooding him with your juices, and you didn't even know it. He couldn't wait to see what your eyes looked like when he pleasured your consciousness. Though your mind was too far gone to realize that it wasn't merely a dream, you couldn't wake up until Mirio wanted you to. This was the way of his kind, only most were one and done. Mirio needed more and more of you to himself. He couldn't stop after one feeding. The only way for him to keep you without draining away your life was a simple spell. All he had to do was get you pregnant.

You were close; he could feel it. Pleasured seared down his spine and threatened to burst, but he wanted to hold out a little while longer. Mirio moved faster, faster. He saw the bruises forming on your hips, the tighter he held on. He would rather crush your hips than stop when you were both so close. Your cunt squeezed around him.

"That's it, good girl. Squeeze me. I'm going to give you everything. Better not spill a drop."

You whined in your sleep as you arched your back. Mirio watched your face as it scrunched up. In pain or ecstasy, it was hard to tell the difference. Your body convulsed around him. Your floodgates opened to him and coated Mirio's cock with your come. It was more than enough to allow Mirio to do the same. The searing tingle shot down his spine and burst like an explosion. He stopped gripping your hips to seize hold of the headboard and hold it tight. Mirio shoved his cock in as far as it would go to ensure that none of his come leaked out. He could feel himself releasing so quickly that it made his head spin. When the final drop hit, he slowly, reluctantly, pulled away from your welcoming cunt. Your insides and your inner thighs were covered in him, just the way he liked.

Mirio dressed then looked over his shoulder at your sleeping and battered form. There were bound to be questions when you woke up, but it was a shame he couldn't see it. He satisfied himself for now by kissing your forehead and whispering, "Pleasant dreams."

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha smut #mha fanfiction #reader fic #kinktober #kinktober week #dark themes #non con #Mirio Togata #lemillion #mirio x reader #incubus!Mirio #Minors begone

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 years

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Alex meets Ari, epilogue

Content Warnings: demon/incubus character, romance, established relationship, car accident mention, injuries, bruises, arguments, angst, emotional whump, caretaking, consensual kissing and touching, happy ending

Tag List: @deluxewhump @grizzlie70 @gatheringofsuffering @xmonster-under-the-bed @emreads @whumpingmydarlings @endless-whump

Author’s Notes: I can’t believe I actually finished something I started!! Once again, thanks so so much to everyone who’s read these. :)

----

Dating Alex is like dating the weather. There are storms and dreary skies, calm overcast days, days of warm sunshine. Getting to know him is like diving into a lake he thinks is shallow only to find unexpected depths of thoughts and feelings, of humor and intelligence. In spite of the relatively mundane life they lead, Arinn finds he is never bored.

All of it is a novelty. Staying with the same person, of course, takes adjustment. Arinn had such a set routine and methodology when it came to finding sustenance that he feels a little lost when it’s gone. But that void is always quickly filled. They binge shows, they try recipes, they take walks. They go to movies and restaurants and, yes, the mummies exhibit and other museums. It’s the closest thing to a normal life Arinn has ever had, yet it feels strange and exciting.

Perhaps the most astounding thing is the lack of pressure to have sex. Before this he was in bed with a new person a couple times a week. Often someone he didn’t particularly like, just to scrounge for the smallest touches to keep himself going. Worse than that, sometimes he would end up discovered, captured and tormented, with no one to help, not like that day Alex found him. The things that were done to him, that he had to bear alone…

But now he only has sex when he actually wants to, and it feels like a small miracle. He enjoys sex well enough, but is more than happy with cuddling, kissing, even lying with his feet across Alex’s lap. And if the kissing gets heated or Alex looks particularly gorgeous that day, well…Arinn certainly isn’t going to complain if they end up in bed.

A little over eight months into dating, Arinn’s lease ends and he moves in. He spends most nights there anyway, but still, it’s a little daunting. But between their jobs and Alex’s therapy and workouts, it doesn’t feel like they’re constantly around each other. Arinn adjusts to it quickly. He can’t deny how incredible it feels to know without a doubt that he won’t go to bed alone each night.

They both work early shifts, starting before dawn and getting home in the early afternoon. So Arinn isn’t prepared at all when Alex comes home telling him he’s going to have to work an evening shift for a couple of weeks.

During the first week, Arinn returns from work only an hour before Alex has to leave to catch the bus. Other than that single hour and when Alex crawls into bed at night, they have no time together. By Friday, Arinn is beyond ready for the weekend. He works Saturday morning, but he doesn’t care. He’s prepared to stay up late just to greedily take in a little extra time with Alex.

“I’ll be home by 10:30,” Alex promises as he gets dressed.

Arinn has the restraint to wait until he’s finished buckling his belt to go over and kiss him. “10:30. I’ll be here.”

Alex’s smile warms him like nothing he’s ever felt. “Good.” He kisses Arinn once, then again, then a third time. He’s contemplating a fourth when Arinn nudges him towards the door.

“Go on,” he says reluctantly. “Have a good day. Night. Whatever.”

Alex laughs as he slips his shoes on. “I’ll try.” And then he’s out the door.

----

10:30 rolls around. Arinn has showered, tidied up the house, and threw together a small meal for Alex to heat up if he’s hungry. Then he plops onto the couch and waits.

At 10:37 he assumes the bus is running late. At 10:49 he wonders if Alex missed the bus and had to catch another. He bounces his leg impatiently and checks his phone every couple minutes in case Alex calls or texts.

He doesn’t.

By 11:00 Arinn is up and pacing. He calls Alex but gets no answer. He leaves voicemails, his voice shaking. He texts him. Where are you? Are you okay? Did work run over? Please answer me.

He said 10:30, Arinn thinks. He said no later than that. He promised. But he isn’t here…

Arinn doesn’t know what to do. He flips between worry and anger and hurt. What if something happened? What if he went out for drinks with coworkers? What if he lied? The possibilities spiral through his mind unchecked.

Then, at 11:43, there’s a key in the lock. It clicks, and the door creaks open.

Alex steps - stumbles - inside and closes the door slowly behind him before leaning back against it with a long sigh.

He looks like hell. His hair is a mess. There’s a bruise on his cheek. His jacket is torn and his clothes are dirty. He’s got one arm draped across his opposite side and he’s breathing raggedly.

Arinn can’t process this. Alex said 10:30, he wasn’t here, Arinn was going out of his mind, and now he shows up looking like this. It’s too much. Before he can stop to think, he explodes.

“Where the hell were you?! It’s been over an hour! Did you get into a fight or something? What the fuck, Alex?”

Arinn is shaking. If he could just stop and think he’d know he isn’t really angry, just shaken. He would see the hurt in Alex’s eyes. He would reach for him with care rather than lash out with accusations.

Alex’s face hardens. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his keys up on the hook.

“Bus crashed,” he mumbles. “Driver had a stroke or something. Ran off the road and rolled onto its side. None of us could leave until we were all looked over by the paramedics and questioned by the police.” He winces as he removes his jacket. “I was lucky I guess. Just some bruising. Got cleared and got a ride here from a cop. Some people left in ambulances.”

Something sinks inside of Arinn. His resolve crumbles and he’s left at a loss for words.

“Why didn’t you call?” he manages weakly. “I would have - have - “

“Have what? Picked me up? We don’t have a car.”

“You still could have told me! Or at least answered my texts!”

“My phone fell out of my pocket!” Alex bursts out. “It’s probably still in the bus being towed halfway across town by now. It’s not like they were going to let me go look for it while they were trying to pry out people who were trapped!”

He begins to walk stiffly toward the kitchen, past Arinn without so much as looking at him. Arinn follows numbly. He watches Alex take a pack of frozen veggies from the freezer and hold it to his side while he leans on the counter for support. His back is to Arinn.

“Fuck...” he whispers. “Alex, I - god, that’s - I don’t know what to say…” Say sorry you idiot! “Thank god you’re alright...I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you…”

Alex huffs. “Guess you’d have to find a new meal ticket,” he snaps.

As soon as he says it the room feels colder. Tension hangs over them like a dark cloud. There’s a hesitation from Alex. For a moment it seems like he might speak. Might take it back. But he only sighs and carefully makes his way into the living room. Arinn hears him groan as he sits on the couch. He continues staring at the place where Alex was just standing.

Arinn’s feet are moving before he knows what he’s doing. He throws his shoes and coat on over his pajamas and is out the door.

He hears it slam behind him.

He hears “Ari, wait! Shit - “

He keeps going.

He doesn’t look back.

Arinn is a block from the apartment building before he finally slows down. He can barely see the sidewalk ahead of him through the blur of tears.

I fucked up. I fucked up. It’s over. I fucked up.

He’s angry, but only at himself. If Alex meant what he said it has to be because Arinn screwed up, didn’t show him enough that he cared, wasn’t good enough at communicating. He should have known he was in over his head. That it was too good to last.

“Arinn!”

Arinn stops walking. It can’t be…

He whirls around to find Alex staggering after him. Even in the dim light from the street lamps Arinn can see that he’s struggling to remain standing, let alone walk. Yet here he is.

“What are you doing?” Arinn croaks. “Y-you’re hurt, you need to be resting…”

With considerable effort, Alex catches up to him. He’s panting heavily. Arinn can’t decide if he wants to turn and run or pull Alex into his arms. He does neither.

“I’m - sorry - “ Alex gets out between breaths. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I was angry - it, it just popped out - “

“I don’t blame you,” Arinn says quietly. “Given what you know about me. But if it means anything, I - I don’t see you that way. As just a - a meal.”

“I know,” Alex says, putting his whole heart into the words. His eyes are shining. He looks desperate and fragile and Arinn just wants to gather him close and make it all okay again.

“I know that,” he says again. “Please believe me. I shouldn’t have said that, it was so stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Arinn asks a little too harshly. He flinches and softens his tone. “I attacked you the minute you walked in the door. After the night you had that’s the last thing you fucking needed. I was just scared.” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Alex. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

When Alex speaks again he’s a little closer. Just a few feet from Arinn, but still not close enough to touch.

“Me either,” he says. “This is the first time since coming here that I’ve had to actually use the things I’m trying to get better at...it’s like, therapy was just training but this is the real deal. And I’m so scared I’m going to fuck it all up. Like I did tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Arinn whispers. He lowers his hands and wraps his arms around himself, feeling cold and brittle. “This - us fighting - is what I was most afraid of. I can’t help what I am. If - if it goes wrong, if we spend time apart or - or - “ he can’t bring himself to even say the words break up aloud for fear they will manifest as real. “ - or separate, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just go sleep with someone else if we’re still together, or if it’s unclear! I’m a lot of things but I’m not a cheater. I - I wouldn’t, I couldn’t…”

Alex listens. He always listens. Even when he’s tired or stressed or angry. Even now, when he’s injured and shouldn’t even be out here.

“You’re right,” he says when he’s sure Arinn is finished. “You can’t help who you are. And I won’t ever really understand what that’s like.” He takes a shaky breath. “What if we made some kind of deal or something. Like, if...if it ever comes to that, you can do what you have to do. No questions asked.”

Arinn’s chest feels tight. He’d do that? He’d let me do that? He knows the depth of Alex’s abandonment issues, between parents who were never around and friends and boyfriends who left him when he needed them most.

And yet he’s willing to look past Arinn sleeping with someone else, willing to trust that it’s nothing more than for his survival. It’s an offer that so many others would happily exploit. The amount that Alex is putting his heart on the line is daunting.

“I don’t want that,” Arinn replies, his voice cracking. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

As soon as he says the words he knows that they’re true.

Alex steps a little closer. His expression is indecipherable. His bottom lip is trembling.

“Really?” And oh, the disbelief in his voice is the most heartbreaking thing. Arinn feels a swell of hatred toward every person who made Alex feel like no one could ever want him.

“Yes, really.” Arinn steps a little closer, too. “Alex…”

The next words terrify him. He feels as though he’s hanging off the edge of a cliff, and if he doesn’t make his move, however risky, he’s going to fall to his death. The truth is all he has now. It could ruin everything, or save it.

“Alex, I love you.”

Fragile silence follows, filled only by the soft chirp of crickets, the hum of someone’s television from a house, a train off in the distance.

A car comes up the road. Its headlights illuminate Alex’s face for a moment and Arinn can see the deep sea of emotion in his eyes.

Arinn is tensed so tight he feels like he might snap. He can feel his mind seeking a way out, the walls he’d let down going up -

“I love you too, Ari.”

With those softly spoken words the walls crumble to dust. He stares, dazed, at Alex.

“Don’t say it just because I said it,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Alex is shaking his head. He’s searching for words.

“No, no - you don’t understand, I-I do. I have. For a while now. But I was scared, I didn’t know where we stood. Or if it was too soon.”

“For...a while?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, hanging his head like a chastised child. “Don’t even know exactly when. I think maybe...I was a little in love with you right from the beginning. Which sounds crazy, I know.” He shrugs. “I’m a little crazy, I guess. And a lot to handle. But I know what I feel. And I love you.”

Arinn starts to speak but chokes on a sob. He throws his hand over his mouth. Tears stream from his eyes as he stares at Alex. Alex loves him. No one has ever loved him. He’s never loved anyone. It’s so much all at once, he can’t even get a word out. His sobs grow harder, everything he’s feeling boiling up and spilling over.

He doesn’t see Alex move closer, but he feels it when Alex’s arm wraps around him. He’s right here, warm and solid and real. He loves me…

Arinn finds himself pulled in by his gravity, leaning closer until he can bury his face in Alex’s shoulder. Alex tips his head to rest against Arinn’s.

“Please come home,” Alex whispers. “Please.”

Something between a hiccup and a laugh bubbles out of Arinn. “Of course I’m fucking coming home,” he says, the words half muffled into Alex’s shirt. He slips his arm around Alex’s uninjured side and holds on desperately. Alex kisses his head. Arinn doesn’t comment on the tears he feels drip into his hair from Alex’s cheek.

They stay like that until Arinn’s sobs cease and Alex’s breathing calms. By then it must be near one in the morning. A chill runs through Alex and his breath hitches as the movement jostles his injuries. The sound finally spurs Arinn into action.

“Come on,” he says, gently easing Alex’s face up. Alex looks like he could fall asleep where he’s standing. Arinn cups his cheek and kisses him deeply. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of you.”

Alex nods gratefully. He remains glued to his side, leaning heavily against Arinn as they slowly make the walk back.

----

Arinn’s hands shake as he prepares two cups of tea. In the quiet of the apartment there’s nothing stopping him from turning over the events of the night in his mind.

Tonight things came too close to ending, in more ways than one. If Alex hadn’t followed him he doesn’t know if they could have salvaged things the next day or not. He’s never done this. He doesn’t know when to keep fighting and when to give up. Tonight...tonight he gave up too quickly.

But what has him more shaken is the crash Alex was in. What he said was right: he was lucky. Arinn hates that he’s hurt at all, but it could have been so much worse. He could have been hospitalized, paralyzed, concussed, killed…

Arinn shudders and nearly drops the kettle as he goes to put it back. He stops and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. He’s okay. He’s okay.

He sets the cups on a tray - a real tray, not the baking pan Alex once brought him breakfast on - and carries them to the bedroom, trying to appear more together than he feels.

Alex is resting on the bed with his eyes closed, breathing softly. When they got back he managed to remain sitting up long enough for Arinn to peel off his ruined clothes and get some boxers onto him, then he flopped back against the pillows with a groan while Arinn maneuvered his legs onto the bed and pulled a sheet up to his waist.

Arinn sets the tray on the bedside table and looks at him. He focuses first on the slow rise and fall of his chest. He’s okay. He’s okay. It’s impossible for his eyes not to wander to the deep bruising that mars Alex’s skin, from the left side of his face trailing down over his shoulder and arm, his chest and ribs and side, fading out at his hip.

It’s a fucking miracle that nothing is broken. Something must have padded his fall somewhat. Arinn tries not to think about it too hard, because if he does, he imagines Alex’s body being tossed like a ragdoll against unforgiving metal and he wants to scream.

“Hey,” he says. He sits at the edge of the bed and strokes Alex’s cheek until his eyes open. As soon as he sees Arinn he presses his cheek into his hand. Arinn smiles. If he didn’t know better, sometimes he’d think Alex was the one who survived on touch.

“Tea’s ready. I have medicine, too. Tomorrow I’ll go get you something stronger but this will have to do for now. And then we can go to sleep.”

Alex nods, blinking slowly. He turns his face and kisses Arinn’s palm. “Thank you…”

“Stop that. You don’t have to thank me.” He reluctantly takes his hand away from Alex’s face. “Can I prop you up a little?”

Alex nods again, reluctantly. He draws in a sharp breath when he tries to sit up a little so Arinn can put another pillow behind him. “Ah...fuck, it hurts…”

“I know...I know, babe…” Arinn gets the pillow back there as quick as he can and then eases Alex gently back against it. He kisses all over his face in praise. “Just think, if it was worse and you went to the hospital, some nurse could be doing this right now.”

Alex chuckles. “Guess you’re my nurse instead.”

“Hmm. I don’t think nurses are supposed to do this to their patients…” he dips in and kisses him. Alex’s eyes slip shut and he sighs as their lips part.

“No, you’re right,” he agrees. “That has to be against some kind of protocol.”

Hearing him joke around lightens the weight in Arinn’s chest. He kisses Alex one more time and then takes his teacup from the tray and holds it up for him. “Here…good arm only, remember.”

Alex takes the cup with his right hand and takes a sip. He hums with approval.

“This is good.”

“This is how tea is supposed to taste when you don’t over steep it,” Arinn teases gently.

“Guess you’re making the tea from now on.”

“Gladly.”

While Alex sips at his drink Arinn looks through the things he pulled from the medicine cabinet. There are a couple different varieties of pain pills and some sort of bruise relief gel he’s never heard of.

“That’s for work injuries,” Alex says when he notices Arinn holding the bottle. “Doesn’t happen often but sometimes I drop something on my foot or lose my footing and fall. A coworker recommended it. It does help. I’m not sure I’ll be able to move enough to put it on, though…”

“Who said anything about you putting it on?” Arinn turns the bottle over to read the back. “You aren’t moving an inch. I’m taking care of you.”

When Alex doesn’t answer he looks up. His breath catches when he sees the open fondness on Alex’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing...I’m just...really lucky.”

Arinn feels his cheeks heating and he can’t do a damn thing about it. “Well...I am your nurse, right?”

“Mmhmm. My hot nurse.” Alex winks suggestively. In his weariness the gesture is clumsy, but it still makes Arinn’s blush deepen.

“Good lord, you’re already loopy and you haven’t even taken the pain meds yet.” Arinn pops open the bottle and puts a pill in his hand.

Alex reaches for it, but Arinn decides it’s only fair to turn the tables a little. He shakes his head and holds the pill up. Alex’s eyes follow it as Arinn slips it onto his own tongue.

His brow pinches. “What are you - oh - “

Arinn leans forward and kisses Alex slowly. As he does, he slips the pill into his mouth. When he pulls back, Alex is the one blushing.

He fumbles a little with the tea cup and drinks down the last of it, swallowing the pill. He lets out a shaky breath when he’s finished. “Holy shit Ari, you can’t just do things like that. I’m too banged up to - to - “

“To bang?”

Arinn grins. Alex groans, but he’s smiling. “You’re worse than I am.”

“And yet, you love me.” The words are still as foreign on his tongue as they are in his mind.

Alex’s expression turns soft, almost shy. He takes Arinn’s hand and squeezes it. “Yeah. I do.”

Arinn could drown in that deep gaze. To stay afloat he busies himself with opening the bottle of gel and squeezing some out into his hand.

“Alright. Last bit and then you can go to bed.” His hands hover over Alex’s heated skin. He chews his lip. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“It’ll only hurt at first,” Alex reassures him. “Then it’ll help.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay…”

He starts small, rubbing a tiny bit of the gel onto Alex’s bruised cheek. That goes fine. He rubs it onto his arm and shoulder as carefully as he can and Alex barely flinches.

The bruising on his side is the worst of it, though, and Arinn dreads it. But that’s also where he needs this the most.

Arinn gets some more gel onto his palms. Slowly, gently, he smooths it over the tender skin, flinching himself every time Alex makes a pained sound. “Hang in there…” He makes sure he’s covered every inch before finally moving down to his hip. When he’s done he presses an apologetic kiss to Alex’s chest. “All done…”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you…” He closes his eyes as Arinn continues trailing comforting kisses up his neck and cheek, avoiding the bruised side.

When Alex’s breathing has evened out, Arinn gathers everything onto the tray and brings it to the kitchen to deal with tomorrow. He makes sure the door is locked, shuts off the lights, and then finally slips into bed beside Alex.

He lies there a while staring at Alex’s silhouette in the darkened room. Alex is so still, his breaths so slow, that Arinn assumes he must be sleeping. So it’s a surprise when his eyes open and he turns his head to meet Arinn’s gaze.

“You’re too far away,” he mumbles sleepily.

Arinn exhales. “I can’t exactly sprawl on top of you right now,” he whispers back.

“Then just…” he pats the small but notable empty space between them.

How can he not give in? At least it’s Alex’s uninjured side. He presses up close to him and holds his arm like a child holding a stuffed animal. “Better?”

“Better.”

After another stretch of silence, Arinn can’t help himself. “...Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t...can’t stop thinking about how it could have been so much worse…”

His tail curls over his hip, brushing against Alex’s hand where it lies on the bed. Alex cradles it and strokes it with his thumb.

“But it wasn’t. I’m right here, Ari.”

“But if you weren’t...if you hadn’t made it...you never would have known...” he nearly chokes on the whispered words.

“Known?”

“That I love you.”

“...neither would you,” Alex replies.

Arinn holds his arm a little tighter. He hadn’t thought of it the other way around, but Alex is right. In their fear and insecurity they both held in something the other desperately needed to hear.

“But now - “ Alex’s words are broken by a big yawn. “ - now we know…”

Arinn kisses his shoulder, overwhelmed with relief, gratitude, and love. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.” He kisses again and again, each one slower and sleepier than the last. “Get some rest,” he whispers against his skin. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

And the morning after that...and the next, and the next...

...and every morning after, for as long as you want.

-- The End --

72 notes · View notes

justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

Text

xisuma doesn’t smooth over a server glitch fast enough. the others have to save him from the consequences.

in this fic, i play loosely with minecraft mechanics to create angst. very loosely. don’t think too much about ‘em. you can also date how long i’ve spent on this by the projects they’re working on.

featuring: being an admin gives you a connection to the server, xisuma has a less than stellar day, angst/comfort, zed is an ender hybrid, false & tango are minor admins, getting stuck in blocks is not a fun experience, the hermits care a lot about each other.

warnings: sensory deprivation, starvation, suffocation, its a death loop babyyy, a fair amount of panic, fighting code, glitches, helplessness, it’s pretty whumpy before the comfort. let me know if something’s missing here.

also on ao3. link in replies.

Xisuma sighs as the sun beats down on him. It's barely let up, even on the outskirts of the jungle. He enjoys the brief stints in the shadow of the giant quartz walls. Even then, waves of heat come off them. All of the structures in his base are a heat trap. Clearing out several layers of dirt and stone is a necessity he should've left for another day. With a click, he tugs his helmet off his head. The humidity outside is worse than his filtered air. He tucks the helmet under his arm, pushing sweat slicked hair from his face.

He's made good progress levelling this arena space. He leaves his helmet on his bed and heads to the temporary storage chests. They're filling up quickly, he notices, as he starts emptying his inventory into them. Except, something's broken. The stacks of blocks aren't all moving. He tries a few times before sighing, ruffling his hair. When he turns to the area he's been mining, it's still empty. It's been a long time since they've had desync this bad. He's not even sure when it started.

Stepping gently across the stone, he can feel the heat rising from them. He'll rollback the world and then he'll relax by Keralis's river. The farm is delightfully cool. Anything will be better than this oppressive heat.

He's almost reached his bed when something takes hold in his chest and pulls.

He stumbles forward with a gasp. Of course, the server decides to fix itself this time. He forces his feet forward, trying to reach his helmet so he can smooth things over. He only makes it two steps until his eyes are forced shut as the server reloads. For a split second, all he feels is the chill of the void as chunks reload around him.

He opens his eyes to darkness. It feels like he's suspended in space, unable to move. There's a suffocating pressure around him. Though it's with shallow breaths, he can still breathe. Did something go wrong? He blinks hard. All of his limbs are accounted for, he's certainly present. Even when he's working in the void there are still particles around him. His attempt to raise his arm fails, finding it impossible to open his back up admin panel. His helmet is- where even is his helmet?

His breath hitches, a feeling of panic escaping his controlled calm. He feels like he can't breathe. He can't move. He's trapped in his own body.

What's happening?

[MumboJumbo] anybody else just experience some major desync?

[Keralis1] Oh, is that what that was?

[Zedaph] I had nearly finished my redstone! All of that work, gone!

[FalseSymmetry] didn't you notice you weren't actually... losing anything from your inventory?

[Tango] he was probably too caught up in his supposed mastery

[FalseSymmetry] everybody okay though?

[Grian] all good here!

[Zedaph] Only my pride's wounded.

False looks down at the bedrock layer at her base. Like half an hour spent placing glass, all gone to waste. She groans, closing her chat as it pings away. Sure, she can rib Zedaph, but that doesn't change the fact she just did the exact same thing. She kicks off the sidewalk, gliding to the bedrock layer. She can feel the cold of the void float up with specks of grey.

"Good going, False," she murmurs. Some patches of glass survived. It's almost worse, that's going to be so much less satisfying to fill in. She takes her goggles off, tugging her hair loose to tie it in a low ponytail. Usually Xisuma gives them a warning before the server resets like that. It always messes up her hair, leaves it floaty and static.

She adjusts her goggles on her head, opening the player menu. Xisuma's currently online. She checks chat. He hasn't said anything. She considers it strange, but it's not unusual. Maybe he's been at a farm and isn't AFKing. She types out a private message, sending it across to him.

[FalseSymmetry to Xisuma] hey x, server blipped, might need to check it when you get back.

She'll see if he returns her message. She's got glass to place.

Iskall looks through his in-progress sorting system with a frown. It's broken somewhere. The stupid server reload has glitched it out and he can't find how. He's checked the redstone, he's checked the hoppers and he's checked the chests! Which means it's glitched. Either Xisuma reloads the chunk for him, or he's going to have to tear it down.

Actually, he'll probably have to tear it down anyway. Reloading the chunk will only roll it back.

At least he's not the only person who's redstone has been ruined. The thought brings some comfort. If he has to be miserable, somebody else should be too. He opens his communicator, checking who's around at the moment. That might take his mind off it.

He notices that Xisuma's online. Their admin has been quiet in chat since the reload. Maybe there's something going on behind the scenes he's having to sort out. He'll reach out to Mumbo and Grian, but first, he sends a message X's way.

[iskall85 to Xisuma] hey is everything alright? nothing broke?

[iskall85 to Xisuma] don't forget you can reach out to us if you need help.

He has no idea how much time has passed. Usually he's connected intrinsically to the server. It helps him keep track of the world, dig out any errors or mishaps - sometimes before his suit alerts him. It's essential for his job in order to keep things running smoothly. The server is always there, at the edges of his consciousness.

In this nothing, he can't even keep track of his internal clock. Perhaps it's his own panic, but the code he tries to reach out to feels fuzzy. It feels like it's glitching, sending shooting pains through his head if he focuses too hard. He couldn't take a guess how long he's been trapped. His breathing still comes too fast and shallow, ignoring his attempts to calm down.

He's completely helpless here. And he doesn't even know where here is.

Tango stares up at the stars on his ceiling. He checks his inventory again, counting aloud. He flicks it off with a frown. Yeah, he's definitely missing some. It's not a massive deal, Impulse will be happy to help out. But if he's having problems then some of the other hermits might be. Perhaps they fell and despawned in the reload. Either way.

"Tangoooooo!" The cry is accompanied by several rockets, something hitting the ground and the sound of damage. He chuckles, stepping away as Zed soars over the edge, stumbling forward with a flutter of his elytra. Tango straightens him up with his free hand.

"No, I'm not doing your redstone for you." Zedaph gasps, dusting off his jeans. He bounces up with a grin.

"You really think I'd come all this way for that?" Zed questions.

"So why have you come all the way here?"

"I'm bored," Zed replies. "And it still stings too much to do my redstone again." Tango laughs, opening up his chat. Xisuma's online, though Tango doesn't expect an immediate response.

"How do you feel about some wither grinding?" He types a message to Xisuma, Zedaph attempting to peer over his shoulder.

"Mmm, I don't see why not."

[Tango to Xisuma] Hey, seem to have lost some stars when the server reset

[Tango to Xisuma] might wanna check nothing important got eaten.

"Right, let's go."

Keralis hums, staring at the plot he was about to start building on. The area has been a bit... Funny. He'll break and replace a block, only to have it switch again. He might have to work on another area until it sorts itself out. His attempts at working here started after the reload, so he doesn't know if that caused it. He's not been able to spot Xisuma nearby either. He's been online, but Keralis hasn't spotted him in chat for a while.

He sighs as he watches the last blocks he placed switch back as if nothing happened. Crossing his arms, he examines the area. He wonders how big this is. Definitely more than one chunk. His new house is going to have to wait. He was excited to show Xisuma around, too.

With a glance at the sky, he realises it's late afternoon. He yawns, stretching his back out. Perhaps it'll be best to settle in his office and work on some future designs. He'll drop a message in chat first, in case this is affecting anyone else. It might give him an excuse to hunt down Shishwamy. He always feels guilty bothering him about things. Their admin takes far too much responsibility on his shoulders. They’re all adults. Keralis wishes he’d ask for help sometimes.

[Keralis1] Has anyone else been having glitchy blocks?

[iskall85] some of my redstone is broken but it's no biggie

[Tango] lost some of my nether stars with the reload but it's been fine since.

[FalseSymmetry] been placing glass without any problems since the reset

[MumboJumbo] I haven't had any problems either.

[Keralis1] A bunch of chunks around our bases are glitching

[Keralis1] but it seems like Shishwamy is busy :(

[Grian] well it looks like he just went afk

[iskall85] that answers that lol

His mind is becoming blurry. It's hard to focus on... Anything. He can't tell if it's because he's struggling to breathe, or something further, tugging him down and away. He tries to fight against it but there's nothing he can do to stay present. He can't hear anything, barely even his shallow breaths. He can only feel the consistent pressure on every inch of his body, the wet tears on his cheeks. He tries pulling on every one of his senses, but nothing comes up.

He slips under.

False empties the last of this glass stack, stepping back at a job well done. She smiles, rubbing her aching hands. It's nice to finally work on this part of her base. Even better now it's not going to pick itself up. At least she hopes so. She'll be right annoyed if it happens again. Something's been tingling at the back of her head, though. She wonders if it's because of the reset.

She looks up at the late afternoon sky. That's enough work for today. As she stretches, she can feel each and every ache in her body. She brushes away her hair, already falling loose. Maybe she'll have something nice for dinner. Some steak, potatoes and pumpkin pie. If she has pumpkin, of course. Xisuma was planning to build a pumpkin farm, wasn't he? His traditional pumpkin and melon combination. She chuckles to herself as she pulls out her rockets.

No matter how things change from season to season, there will always be things that don't. Hermits might come and go, but they'll always be her family.

She launches up, shooting through the water barrier. It's fast enough it doesn't stick. She lands gracefully, making her way to the kitchen. She hopes this nudging in her head doesn't get worse. She just wants to enjoy a nice meal. That's all.

"Well, I think we have a plan," Grian declares, grinning from his perch. His legs are crossed, hands resting in his lap.

"I mean, we didn't exactly need a plan to fix our redstone," Mumbo replies, slouched in his chair the way he only ever does in front of them. Iskall chuckles, resting his hands behind his head. They've really helped take his mind off the broken redstone. Mumbo had a similar problem, so tomorrow they'll meet up again and attempt some fixes.

"Always helps," Iskall says, shrugging. "Especially when one of us spends so much time in the Nether depths, now." Grian laughs, his legs kicking.

"Hey, I'm doing good work out there!" Mumbo yawns, looking between them.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted."

"Food then sleep?" Grian suggests. Iskall nods. It's been a long day.

It's dark as Zedaph and Tango return from The End. Zedaph yawns, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Tango rubs the side of his own hair. Something's been bothering him, but he can't tell what. Like there's something just not... Right. Zedaph is chatting beside him, a bounce in his step. It's like he doesn't feel it at all.

"Do you want to have dinner together?" Zed asks, twirling his sword by his side. They've repaired their tools, done everything properly. It's been a hard day's work, but they've achieved a lot, even with the setback.

"Yeah, dinner sounds good." He looks at the night sky, squinting his eyes. Zedaph tilts his head at him. The purple eyes are concerned, particles floating up in his worry.

"Tango, are you okay? You seem... Off." Tango sighs, waving Zedaph's worry away.

"Something's nagging me. It's not a big deal." Zedaph's still frowning, but the particles die down.

"Let's just get you something to eat, yeah?" Tango nods, leaning into Zedaph when he squeezes his shoulder.

"Sounds good to me."

Keralis watches the night sky overhead. He's sat in the doorway to his office, a blanket around his shoulders. The stars are always a beautiful sight. It's the perfect way to relax after such a, hm, busy day. Not busy in a conventional sense, no, but still busy. His specially commissioned noteblock song plays in the background, a perfect accompaniment in the peaceful night. He thinks it's strange how the stars always seem the same no matter what world they're in. Maybe he should ask Xisuma about it in the future.

He pops up his screens open. Xisuma is still afk. He misses seeing his neighbour out and about. Xisuma often spends time at his farms, it's nothing new. But Keralis enjoys saying hello to him! Especially after missing well... Years of his life. He tries not to think about that.

With a sigh, he lies against the doorway. Time for bed soon. He laughs at the sound of Bubbles' voice in his head. His communicator beeps and he glances over to it.

Huh. That's interesting.

Xisuma is thrown into full consciousness. His stomach is still cramping with phantom hunger. He opens his eyes and finds...

Black.

No, no, he died. He died. Why has he respawned here? He chokes on his sob, realising no air is entering his lungs. His cheeks are still wet with tears, more leaking out as he gasps at nothing. His lungs burn, unable to take the shallow breaths he needs to. Would it even help? He wants to curl up, clutch at the growing pain in his chest. But he can't move an inch. Heaviness sinks into his limbs and head.

He wakes again in the same place. He doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. There's not enough air for him to scream, anyway.

[Xisuma starved to death]

[MumboJumbo] X?? mate?

[Tango] X?

[FalseSymmetry] do we need to get your stuff?

[Keralis1] I'm by his base.

[Tango] he's not afk anymore

[Grian] x???????

[iskall85] maybe he's getting his stuff rn

[Keralis1] Shishwammmmyyyyyyy

[MumboJumbo] starving isn't a nice way to go

[Zedaph] It really isn't.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[iskall85] oh no

[FalseSymmetry] x???? im going over

[Keralis1] so am i

[Tango] this isn't right, this really isn't right

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Grian] what's going on???

False shimmies back into her elytra, reaching for the one jacket potato that finished cooking. So much for having a sit-down meal. She rubs her head, pushing away the fear that has something to do with this. Her communicator continues beeping as she grabs her rockets. She runs to the entrance, kicking off and launching into the air.

"We should go and help," Iskall decides, already picking up his armour.

"Thought you'd never say." Mumbo straps his elytra on, grabbing a spare shulker box and an ender chest. Grian nods with a seriousness that doesn't fit on his face.

"Let's go."

"We're going?" Zed asks. He's already stuffing food into his mouth. Tango rubs his temples, nodding. He takes the elytra that's thrusted into his hand.

"Yeah. We're definitely going." He watches the particles floating off Zed in waves, glowing the same purple as his pupils. Tango presses his eyes shut against another spike of pain as their communicators beep. "C'mon."

Keralis scrabbles until he balances on the tower roof. He's searched each one and not found X anywhere. Tapping his foot, he meddles with his communicator to turn some settings on. He has no minor admin powers - that he has to leave to False and Tango - but he can at least try this.

"Ah-hah!" He grins as hitboxes light up beneath him, hopefully a better clue where his currently red coloured friend may be. He scans the towers closely, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. There are a few mobs, especially as night sets in. Then he sees Xisuma's new build.

He has to take a step back at the sight. The chunks look- a mess. The outline of the blocks are overlapped or flickering. It hurts to look at. Blocks aren't meant to highlight like that. He glides across the treetops. It not only covers the area he was trying to work earlier but spreads into Xisuma's current build. Yeah that's- that's bad. That's not good. His communicator has continued to beep with messages as he searched. He goes to read it, and spots different colours in the mess. The red of an eyeline. He stands on his toes, leaning off the leaves. The outline flickers in and out, accompanied by a beep.

He thinks he's found X.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Keralis1] he's in his new build!

[Keralis1] I think I can see him in the ground

[Keralis1] it is very very broken

[FalseSymmetry] tango? you on your way?

[Tango] as we speak

[Tango] been a long time since we've had to use these powers

[FalseSymmetry] not long enough

Tango and Zedaph are the first to land by Keralis's side. They kick up loose powder from the road, taking in the massive structure in front of them. Tango's shoulders raise, cringing at the sight.

"That's definitely broken," he agrees, his eyes twisting as they focus.

"And Xisuma's in the middle of it?" Zedaph looks at Keralis. He nods, usually big eyes sharply focused. He points beyond the walls.

"You can just see his name tag. I think the glitched blocks have got him stuck. I tried to build there earlier but nothing would stay." Tango presses his lips together in thought as False lands. They nod to each other in acknowledgement.

"How long does it take until the blocks pop back?"

Keralis hums, tapping his chin before answering, "About ten seconds, I think."

"That's not going to be enough time to reach him," Zed says. "Can't you just teleport him?" He looks at Tango and False. Tango opens his console menu, typing something in. Zed can tell the answer before Tango says it.

"What ideas do we have?" Keralis asks. "We can't just leave him there!"

"Of course not!" Tango replies, sounding shocked at the suggestion. "We just- need a plan." False nods.

"We're not as powerful as X," she explains, "Together we should be able to roll back these chunks but- I have no idea what that would mean for Xisuma. We don't really work with player code." She brushes her hair back. The conversation is paused as the trio of Grian, Iskall and Mumbo land beside them. The three slot in, listening as they're caught up.

"There has to be something that's making him spawn there." Iskall points out, his hand held towards the structure. False searches through the control panel, whilst Keralis and Tango simply examine the messed up blocks.

"He has a bed in there," Tango answers. False taps where Xisuma's spawn is tied to on her screen.

"Since the blocks are glitched, it must mean the bed isn't like... Registering them. Since they don't fully exist." She thinks about it carefully, putting the pieces together as she explains.

"So if we break the bed, he'll respawn at the world spawn?" Grian suggests.

"But how do we get down there?" Mumbo turns to look. It's pretty far down in the ground. They'd have to move quick to get near where Xisuma is.

"There's a few of us." Iskall waves at the gathered group. "I say with enough TNT and manpower, we could do it."

"Wait-" Zedaph holds his hand up, "-Get me close enough and I can teleport in there, get the bed. Less blocks to destroy."

"Zed." Tango turns to him, glaring at the blond. "That's a stupid idea, don't you get how dangerous that is-"

"Xisuma is stuck in a death loop, Tango!" Zed cuts in, raising his voice. The others fall silent, not sure how to handle this exchange. "Sure, I might die a bit! That's nothing compared to what Xisuma's currently experiencing."

"TNT will destroy a fair amount, but it already puts us on a time limit," Grian adds, a sideways agreement.

"I'm willing to do it. Either we reach the bed, or I teleport in." Zed says it with finality. The others don't argue. False checks his spawn point. Zedaph will respawn back in his cave, safe and sound. Even if it goes wrong, it'll be recoverable.

"We need to be ready to roll back the chunks," False says, focusing on Tango. "If I have this headache for much longer I'm going to go insane." Tango smiles tiredly.

"Fine. Let's try this." He shrugs. "I don't think we have a better idea."

"Well, come on! Let's go!" Keralis claps, placing an ender chest. Tango sighs, typing in a command.

"I think I'm allowed this time," he says, a stack of TNT appearing in his hand.

"And other times?" Grian asks. Even through the teasing, they can hear the fear in his voice.

"Don't push it."

There's noises. He blinks his eyes open into the unending darkness. He tries to focus past his burning chest and the weight of his body. There's... Definitely noises up above him. It sounds like explosions. The space he's stuck in shakes slightly. After another lapse, he gasps back to life in the same position. He wants to scream, tell somebody he's down here. This opportunity might not come again.

Then he feels a sharp stab of pain. Something is there, near him. Everything hurts and he still can't breathe. For a moment, he thinks he hears the trill of an Enderman. His tired mind can't figure out how as he runs out of air.

He wakes up to a chill. He slightly opens his eyes, spotting yellow sand as he falls, blacking out.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Zedaph suffocated]

[Grian] have we done it?

[Keralis1] he's at worldspawn! got him!

[iskall85] YES!!!

[Zedaph] Oh thank goodness I don't want to do that again

[World reloaded]

[Tango] Z, you okay?

[Zedaph] I'm good. Bring my stuff? I'm going to worldspawn

[FalseSymmetry] will do

"Keralis!" Zedaph's elytra beats as he lands, feet digging into the sand. "Is he okay?" Keralis nods. Xisuma's head is resting in his lap. The admin's eyes are closed as he breathes slowly. His expression is relaxed. It's a good sight to see. The spawn island is lit up well, but Keralis keeps his eye on the surrounding oceans.

"He's sleeping," Keralis says, messing with strands of brown hair. "I don't think I'm strong enough to move him on my own." Zedaph drops onto the sand next to them, crossing his legs. There are still bright particles floating off him, his eyes fully purple. "What about you, Zee?" Zedaph seems to notice Keralis's focus, ducking away to hide his eyes.

"Um, not the best. That kind of sucked. But, it worked, and that's what matters!"

"Make sure you look after yourself, too," Keralis tells him. "Fighting the server's code isn't easy." Zedaph laughs, resting on his hands.

"Can say that again. Forgot we have anti-enderman griefing." Keralis cringes, realising why Zed looks so much like he might collapse. It'll pass, but it's never fun to go against programming like that. The architech trio arrives next. All of them look relieved to see the three on the island.

"Oh, Zedaph, I have your stuff." Mumbo starts emptying it out, the few things Zedaph couldn't fit in an ender chest. Zedaph smiles, tugging his helmet on and feeling a lot more comfortable. He tries not to meet anybody's eyes.

"Tango and False will be on their way. They're just checking everything's good," Grian tells them, hands moving quickly as he talks.

"Should we try moving X somewhere safer?" Iskall suggests. "The shopping district isn't that far."

"If you're willing to boat him." Keralis is firm. "I don't want him dropped in the ocean."

"I swear nothing will happen to him under our watch." Grian puts his hand on his heart. Iskall and Mumbo nod in agreement.

"It'll be the safest boat journey on the server." Iskall's hands are on his hips. Keralis tilts his head up.

"Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes, if anything happens to my Shishwamy, I will not hold back." The architechs look suitably threatened.

"Can I boat with someone?" Zedaph asks. "I nearly crashed so many times flying over here."

"Hop in the back of mine!" Iskall calls, placing one in the water. Grian plucks Xisuma into his arms, carrying him to the edge of the water. He sets the admin in the boat before climbing in himself. Keralis checks him over before nodding and allowing Grian to keep him.

"I've told the others to meet us there," Mumbo says. "I'm going to fly across and see where's best to bunker down. I think we could all use some sleep."

Zedaph looks at the moon hanging overhead, "Yeah, I think we could."

[MumboJumbo] we're heading to the shopping district.

[FalseSymmetry] thats a good plan

[MumboJumbo] any idea who's shop we could stay in?

[FalseSymmetry] my dimension shop is pretty empty

[FalseSymmetry] plenty of room for some beds. pretty warm.

[Tango] we'll get it set up for you

[MumboJumbo] ok. ill protect the others

[Keralis1] so will I.

The first thing Xisuma picks up on is the talking. He stays still, trying to tell if his brain is playing tricks on him after so long in the nothing. His body is like a rock. He's barely able to move. His lungs still ache and it takes some conscious effort to continue breathing. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at bright lights. Light. There's light. He rolls forward, a sob leaving his lips before he can catch it.

"Xisuma, hey, hey." The voice is soft, casting a shadow over him. Xisuma forces his eyes open now the worst of the brightness is blocked out. Keralis is crouching in front of the bed. His fingers gently brush across Xisuma's cheek. For once, Xisuma doesn't feel the dried tears that had become his constant. "You're okay, you're safe. We got you." Xisuma takes a shaking breath in, squeezing his arms to feel the pressure of his own touch.

"Do you want your helmet?" He flits to look at False. The mere sight of his helmet is overwhelming. He reaches out and wraps it close to his chest. Keralis laughs gently, scratching through Xisuma's hair. The admin sighs, his eyes slipping closed once more.

"There you go." He can hear the smile in Keralis's voice. "We've got you, right here." The sound of movement. Cracking his eyes open reveals False sitting in front of the bed, weaving her hand into Xisuma's. He squeezes it gently.

"You're in my shop, in the shopping district," she tells him. "It's past midnight. You're completely safe here. We've got things sorted, there's nothing you need to worry about." A tear slips from his eye. Keralis wipes it away.

"What happened?" He can't make his voice louder than a whisper, and even that hurts.

"Something went wrong with the world reload," False tells him. He can trust her not to sugarcoat things. "We all had a few bugs, but the chunks around you glitched out badly. Created a bunch of like... Invisible blocks, but they were visible, if you get what I mean? They weren't fully there. Ugh, Tango's better at all this technical stuff." Xisuma tries to peer around for him, but the light still hurts if he looks for too long.

"You were stuck in a bunch of them," Keralis finishes. "We didn't realise until you starved and got stuck in a death loop. I'm really sorry, Xisuma."

"We broke your bed to get you out. Well, Zedaph did. The others got him close enough then Tango and I fixed the area. It's all sorted." Xisuma forces his sluggish brain to put the pieces together. He didn't dream up that enderman sound. That was-

"He's over there, sleeping. Tango's with him." Keralis points at a bed nearby. Tango's back blocks any sight of their part Ender friend, but Xisuma can see purple particles floating into the air. A concerning amount of them.

"What did Zed do?" He asks, the vice around his lungs tightening in concern.

"Um," Keralis answers, False looking at him. "He mentioned fighting the anti-enderman griefing code? So I think he picked the bed up." Xisuma's stomach drops. He tries to push himself up but collapses onto his back again.

"Hey, X, careful," False warns. Her voice is stern but Xisuma shakes his head.

"No- I-" He shuts his eyes, fighting off disorientation. "The server's going to keep fighting him. I've got to reset it." False helps him sit up, but she still watches him with concern. He picks up his helmet, pulling it on and relaxing slightly as all the displays flicker to life. Now when he looks at Zedaph he can see the extent of the damage. His very code seems to be fighting itself. "Help me up?"

False gets an arm around his chest. He ends up leaning his weight against her to stand, his legs shaking. She's firm, grip only tightening to accommodate his need. Keralis hovers nearby, ready to jump in if he has to. They take slow steps across the room. Xisuma strains to see under the light, but the tint of his helmet helps. He can see the architechs sat nearby, watching without any attempt at discretion.

Tango looks up as they approach. Xisuma can see the resignation on his face.

"This isn't going to fix itself, is it?" He asks. His hand in clasped tightly in Zedaph's, whose usually bright expression is twisted in pain. His skin is all too pale, black freckles spreading into larger patches across his face. He doesn't open his eyes, not even as Tango moves so Xisuma can sit down. The grip on each other's hand remains tight.

"I need to reset the code that's attacking him," Xisuma explains. His words have a tired slur he can't quite hide. "I'm gonna write an exception, I can't believe I haven't already just- not right now. Don't wanna do it wrong."

"Xisuma, it's okay." Tango smiles, pinched but genuine. "I'm sorry you need to do this." Xisuma shakes his head.

"It's nobody's fault," False says, "Do what you need to do, X. Then you're going back to bed." Keralis hums in agreement. Xisuma laughs softly as the command screens in his helmet boot up.

He zones out the others around him, leaning on Keralis's shoulder when his friend perches beside him. He scrolls through information as he brings up Zedaph's data on one screen. With one eye on it, he unlocks the data packs, searching through them. He gives voice instructions with his microphone muted to the outside world. Finding the pack he needs, he disables it and checks Zedaph's data. It looks like his code is straightening out again. Thank goodness. He makes sure all activity is deactivated before he turns the pack back on.

"That should do it," he mumbles, before realising his microphone is still off. He reactivates it before repeating himself.

"Maybe you should teach us a bit more sometime," False squeezes his shoulder, helping him up. Xisuma slings his arm over False with a nod. That would be good.

"Thank you, X." Tango smiles. He rubs his thumb across Zedaph's hand. The ender hybrid has relaxed, face slack. It looks like he's properly sleeping now. Xisuma can finally rest.

"Come on. Don't you fall asleep here, I don't want to carry you across." Xisuma hums, too tired to commit to any words. Before he knows it, he's sitting down on the comfortable bed again.

"Shishwam, lemme get your helmet." Xisuma nods, tilting his head up so Keralis can unlatch it and bring it off. His head rolls onto his shoulder the moment it's gone. Keralis giggles, ruffling his hair. "Come on, sleepy time." False lies him down, his helmet tucked safely in his arms. Keralis's hand slips into his. Xisuma shuts his eyes, before blinking them open again.

"Stay?" He asks, too tired to worry about being needy. He doesn't want to be alone in that darkness again.

"Of course," False replies.

"We're not going anywhere," Keralis adds. Xisuma smiles at them both, eyes slipping closed. The darkness is manageable with his friends by his side.

"Don't you dare wake them up," False hisses, watching as Grian and Iskall play with redstone. The morning sun is beginning to shine through the cracks in the windows. She's exhausted, having only caught a quick nap. Keralis is asleep next to Xisuma, sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed. Tango's slid into bed beside Zedaph, holding him close to his chest. Mumbo's dead to the world across the room.

"We won't!" Grian calls, trying to figure out the game he could make out of this mechanic. Iskall has a Statues book open, an armour stand sat in front of a piston.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if the two people who have done this with armour stands were helping," Iskall points out, flicking through the pages.

"We're fine, it's part of the adventure!" Grian watches as the piston shoots the armour stand across the room. False smiles, leaning back against the bed. Some of the other hermits have been coming online with the early morning. Thankfully, they don't seem to know about everything that went down yesterday. It's best things are quiet for Xisuma whilst he rests. She's sure he’ll tell them about it. She'll make sure he does.

As the sun grows higher with the dawn, she dozes off again. Grian is yawning, him and Iskall only catching a few hours of sleep. He's still buzzing with activity. He'll crash later, easy enough.

It's to this quiet atmosphere that Xisuma wakes up. Iskall and Grian are still experimenting. Grian’s laughter rings out as the armour stand bounces in the air. The beat of the piston is monotonous, but they're nearly falling over each other at the sight. Xisuma watches with a soft smile, eyes barely opened.

"It we got one on top, do you think it would-" Grian holds his hand up, demonstrating an armour stand shaking up and down aggressively. Iskall chuckles, shaking his head.

"It's only the morning, we don't need to break physics yet."

"It's for science," Grian protests. He sounds breathless, half-delirious with his need for sleep.

"Please don't make me do work," Xisuma whispers, all too aware of the sleeping hermits around him. Grian perks up, Iskall turning to him with a grin.

"'Suma!" Iskall calls. Xisuma smiles at both of them, making no attempt to move. He's comfortable here and he doesn't want to wake his friends.

"Exy-Suma!" Grian slides across, leaving a gap from the sleeping hermits. Iskall stands by his side, resting his hand on Grian's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" Xisuma wraps his arm tighter around his helmet.

"Not the best, my friend," he answers honestly. "But I'm certainly better than before."

"Well, we'll just have to make that even better then." Grian is committed to the cause now. He's going to make Xisuma's day.

"You don't have to rush back into things," Iskall says, offering a smile. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves today."

"I don't think I'm getting out of this bed anytime soon." Xisuma looks down at Keralis, dark hair brushing Xisuma's chest plate. False is asleep slouched in the chair beside him. Even without being able to see the other occupants of the room, he can still tell they're sleeping. "Feels a bit weird not going for a jog at this time, though."

"I'm sure your legs won't wither away after one morning, X," Iskall jokes. "Be lazy like the rest of us." Grian grins.

"We could always play some mini-games later, too!" Xisuma laughs, stretching as much as he can without shifting Keralis. He's beginning to regret sleeping in his armour, but it's too late now.

The three chat with each other, Xisuma offering advice now he's awake. They're gradually building up a system to launch the armour stand across the room. Sure, they'll have to clean it all up later, but it passes the time and it makes them laugh. Hearing Xisuma laughing is good for all three of them, despite the roughness reminding them of last night's ordeal. It's safe to say that nobody envies Xisuma's experience.

The three jump at a strange, shrill noise, until the realisation kicks in. Zed is sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Hair is falling into his face, ruffled from sleep. Tango remains slumped against him. He even rolls into the warmth Zedaph leaves behind. It takes a few seconds until the hybrid notices his audience. Zedaph jumps, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, hi, sorry! Forgot I wasn't alone." His eyes are glowing brightly in the morning light. He looks down at the arm lazily clinging to his waist. "This oaf is used to it."

"No, no, you're okay," Xisuma tells him. False is stirring beside him, blinking to life, but Keralis remains out. "How are you feeling?" Zedaph taps his chin, resting his finger on his lip.

"Pretty well-rested, actually." Then his attention turns to Xisuma. "What about you? I should be asking you that question!" Xisuma laughs, flexing his fingers against his helmet.

"I'm okay. Taking it easy." He tilts his head towards Grian and Iskall. "Whether I like it or not, it seems."

"Too right," False agrees, yawning. "T'others can handle admin duties for today. You're ours."

"Is that a threat?"

"We can make it one!" Iskall tells him, his voice a lot more cheerful than the implication of his words. "We just need a good leash-"

"Oh absolutely not! Don't you dare!" Keralis pokes his head up next to him, trying to tune into the conversation. Zedaph laughs from across the room. He's tugging a bleary Tango to rest on his shoulder so he can wrap the blanket around them both.

"Oh come on, X, it'll be fun!" Grian wraps his arms around Iskall's shoulders. Xisuma shakes his head.

"You two are terrible. Absolutely terrible. Goodness me."

"I'm sure X will agree to take a day off willingly," False says, sounding far too threatening as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

"I already agreed. No leash required!"

"Why are we talking about leashes?" Keralis finally asks, looking more confused than anything. They break down into laughter.

[Grian] hello everyone

[iskall85] HALLO!

[iskall85] we are stealing your admin for the day!

[Grian] yeah he's ours.

[falsesymmetry] x had a rough night so he's having a day off

[falsesymmetry] so if any admins besides tango, x and i could step up please?

[cubfan135] yeah I'm on it.

[joehillssays] of course, and send our well wishes to our dear admin!

[Xisuma] your dear admin thanks you :-)

[Xisuma] please try not to break anything

[Etho] have a fun day lol

[joehillssays] don't make us lock you out of your screens, x!

[Keralis1] Nothing will get past us.

[iskall85] he's been suitably threatened.

[Renthedog] Should uh... We be concerned?

[Grian] about x-i-sooma finally getting a break?

[falsesymmetry] he's in safe hands. promise.

"Should we get this day started?" Tango asks. Grian is about to answer, only to yawn. He covers his mouth, face turning red.

"Another hour of sleep first?" False suggests. They look around the room, everyone in varying states of awareness.

"It never hurt anyone." Iskall shoves Mumbo over, fitting into bed beside him. "See y'all in an hour." Keralis smiles at Xisuma. He bumps their heads together.

"You deserve a break without being traumatised first, you know that Shishwamy?" He checks. Xisuma laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah, I know." He leans back. "And I think I've got some good friends to remind me." False pats his back, getting comfortable enough to doze off again.

"And don't you forget it." Xisuma looks around the room. The architechs are fighting over the bed, Tango and Zedaph curled back up on theirs. He smiles, the fear from last night already on its way to being a distant memory.

"Don't think I can."

#hermitcraft #xisuma #falsesymmetry #keralis #grian #iskall85 #tangotek #zedaph #feel like mumbo's role is too minor to tag him lmao #my writing #this fic took so loooong #but i wanted to get it done #more brain space for my other projects

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thebestworstidea · 4 years

Text

The Green Knight’s Lady (3)

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Warnings: undeserved redemption arc, graphic imagery and as of this chapter violence against minors.

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 3: In Which Remus and Rowan’s Stupidity Escalates to Treason (sort of)

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

The Spider Prince didn’t often check the darkest part of the forest in the winter months. It was difficult to get to at the best of times, and in the dark and cold his mother was at her strongest and most able to shrug things off, even in her recovery. But he’d had something like a feeling, but not all the way to a nudge, and followed it. And what he found was a void in the shallow crunching snow that covered the forest floor. In a place that he’d been, which meant whatever had been there- humanoid- had been hidden from him the last time he was there. He wasn’t an expert on plants, but the plants seemed disturbed so whatever, whoever had been there, had been there a while.

He sent a feeling of a question at his mother and received- smugness? Amusement? A secret? An impression of a play hunt?

He frowned sourly. If she wanted to play a game, he supposed he could do that. There were a smattering of footprints, briefly. He could track what and whoever this joke was.

He emerged from the forest at the back of a house in Wickhills. From the outside it didn’t look like much, painted a dark green with a brown roof, like a reversed tree. It was a bit rundown- a few missing supports in the porch fence, paint that was patchy and peeling. A slightly faded rainbow flag flew from the porch. But something about it- it reminded him of Roman, or Grettie, but different as well, like an unfamiliar blend of a tea he’d drunk before. It was a witch’s house; and he suddenly realized that this must be the home of the witch that had befriended Remus.

He hadn’t been concerned before, but he suddenly was. No one had seen Remus at all since sometime that summer, and now a trail led right to the herb witch’s door.

So he did the rational, sensible thing.

He knocked on the front door.

After a few minutes, the door opened, revealing a heavyset woman with her hair in frazzled braids, and large round glasses. She stared at him, then said very quietly.

“One minute please, I’ll be right with you.” The door closed softly and there was a muffled scream from somewhere on the other side. He could hear footsteps inside, then the door opened again for a moment.

Now, he knew intellectually that this was the house of Remus’s friend and that most likely had been her, but the door opening to show Remus himself- especially shoeless, dressed like a human, was not expected.

“Yeah that’d explain it. Be right with you-” and the door closed again leaving him wondering what ‘Intrusive Thot’ meant and why it had been on the t shirt. He was not expecting the door to open a third time to someone shorter, a boy who was barely into his teens, who glared at him with gold eyes.

“Go away.” This time the door slammed. There was an unmuffled shriek that mostly covered the sound of the door locking.

“D.N.! You can’t just do that!”

“I just did. I don’t see how it was so hard.”

That had been another fae. A familiar face, even, though it seemed so out of place he couldn’t figure out why for a long moment.

“What the hell.”

There was no iron blocking the door- not surprising with two fae in the house- but a gossamer thin warding of human magic pushing out anything uninvited. It would certainly work on pixies or hobs.

It would not work on him.

“I was going to handle it!” she was saying a hand to her head.“I just need to finish panicking first; it’s a mortal thing, okay, D.N.? I know you don’t have a huge practical experience, but I’d really think that mortals panicking might be a little more in your range.”

“Little tree?” Remus’s voice was strained. “There’s a spider in your house.”

She whipped around and unconsciously stepped between him and the person she’d been yelling at. Her face was warring between flushed and pale. A strange whining noise came out of her. Remus vaulted over a chair, and wrapped himself around the smaller fae protectively, half turning away as though that would hide him at all.

“You were not quite invited in.” She managed, voice squeaking, clutching at her shawl with white knuckles.

“I need to talk to him.” He pointed a finger past her.

“He’s in my home.” the witch said weakly. “And you’re scaring me.”

“Rowan do not!” Remus rasped out. She held up her empty hands where he could see them.

“Please do not kill someone in my home.” she added.

“I do not intend to hurt you.”

“Yay.” she said through a rictius of a smile. “Only. he’s my guest?” her voice squeaked on the last word.

“What did you call him? Dean?”

“Technically I called him ‘Dee Enn’. Initials.”

“It stands for ‘Danger Noodle’” Remus said cheerfully and a trifle manically, still holding him up.

“Why are you more afraid of me than him?”

“Because I know how he feels about me. He’d kill me in an instant if he didn’t owe me a debt.” Rowan swallowed, biting her lips together. True? Probably true. “I have no idea where I stand with you. Because right now. I stand with them.” she tipped her head towards them.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of him.” D.N. said dryly. “He’s a real softie especially when it comes to humans.”

“Are you capable of shutting up?” She snapped at him, looking back. He looked bored, especially given he was still held in a bear hug against Remus’s chest, gingery hair mussed, and half covering his face.

“Do you realize who he is?”

Rowan winced.

“I know who he was. Who he is is kind of up for debate at the moment I think.”

“What I am is annoyed, put me down Remus, this is undignified.”

Remus gave a whine in the back of his throat, but set him back on his own feet. He straightened his sleeves and gave Remus’s chest a pat before stepping forward. Delicately he smoothed his hair, drawing a hand down over the back of his neck before raising his chin with a bit of a challenge.

He didn’t look exactly the same. There was a great deal of time- not even counting the casket- between this child and the other one, but The Spider Prince was sure of that, they weren’t identical. However, there was no room for doubt. He wasn’t sure what to do; but he was sure that this was the ?joke? His mother had been playing at.

If he had looked any more like Adder- or any less- like the brother he’d desperately wanted, all those years ago, there would be no question. When his mother had spoken his brother into existence, it had changed him too. He was a brother to the snake, as the snake was brother to him, deep in his core. ‘Danger Noodle’ didn’t look like the man who’d hurt him. He didn’t look like the tyrant who’d broken Roman, who’d disturbed the forest’s balance so badly. He was a child- only he wasn’t. There was too much knowledge in his eyes, and a challenge. And fear. It was well hidden, but there was fear.

“We… we could leave?” Remus offered suddenly.

“Shut up!” snapped D.N.

“No, we could! We could go somewhere else, away from Wickhills where no one would ever see us again. I know lots of places! I can take him far away. Never come back.”

D.N.’s breath hissed out between his teeth, and his hand came up to cover the back of his neck as if he was in pain.

“Remus stop.”

“You wouldn’t even have to tell anyone what happened!”

“REMUS.”

He stared wild eyed at D.N.

“I … can’t.” He said like the words were being forced out, curled up against himself. “I can’t. I can’t leave Wickhills. At least not right now.” he licked his lips, face pinched, and scowled at the room. “Stop staring. Knowing my condition isn’t … isn’t too odd.” He managed to straighten up. “You two need to leave.” He said, looking at Rowan and Remus and saying it like an order.

“This is my house, D.N.” Rowan said warningly.

“Very well, then my brother and I have to step outside, elsewhere.”

“No-” Remus started, and was held up by him raising a hand.

“We need to talk without anyone else hearing. Besides… if he’s going to kill me, again, it would be polite to give him an opportunity to do it elsewhere.” He gave a sneer of a smile at the idea.

Remus gave a whine that was half growl. Rowan grabbed his arm, and stared at them with a pinched, scared expression. His hand closed over hers with a grip that looked like it hurt, but she didn’t flinch.

The front door shut behind the two and Remus looked over at Rowan.

“We’re going to listen in, right?”

“Oh, we are absolutely going to eavesdrop if at all possible.” Rowan closed her eyes. “I don’t think they’ve left the porch, which would make sense if D.N. wanted to take advantage of not being killed in my home. This way.”

They had to take the long way to avoid windows, but skulked up to the end of the porch.

There was a window there, offset just a bit from the stairs that led down to the back yard. Pressed to the bookshelf in the corner and each other, the two could just about make out two voices; one low like the rumble of thunder in the distance, and the other higher- D.N.’s voice. Their stealth had lost them some of the conversation, so they just tried to breathe softly.

The voice raised just a bit.

“You can not say there is anything I could do as reparations.”

A low deep rumble that was definitely words.

“I might.”

Another rumble like thunder in the distance.

“It all escalated very quickly. And then it was just… habit.”

A snarl like ripping silk, and Rowan clutched at Remus’s arm again.

“Mistakes can become habit.” there was a pause “There’s a great deal I’d do differently if I had a chance to do it again. But I can’t. However, the fact remains that I am here, now and like this; and you can best believe I would not be if I had any choice in the matter.” There was an explosion of breath. “Do you know what it feels like to rot? I do now. It is horrifying. My flesh dissolved, slowly because nothing would come close enough to strip it from my bones. Then my bones were left, and I hoped that I’d return to darkness, but I didn’t.” There was a pause. “I couldn’t even leave the clearing, because all my bones were there. I was trapped.” There was a deep breath. “Then I heard the stupid witch crooning to Remus. Then his hands on my bones. Everything was soft; and then.” There was a pause and they could hear the heels of his boots against the porch boards as he paced. “A voice, like the darkness itself, almost familiar. Like I should know it. Do you know what it told me? ‘Do Better’” An unchildlike scoff. “For all I care, you can kill me. It’s bound to be better the second time.”

Rowan’s hands went up and covered Remus’s mouth, and she leaned all her weight against him, as he twitched towards the window.

This time when the thunder voice rumbled Rowan understood what it said.

“No.”

“No?”

“If living is your punishment, you should take it.”

“What!”

“I’m not saying I won’t kill you; just not now.”

“I can give you a reason if you’re too busy playing at being merciful.” hissed D.N. “What do you expect me to do? Shall I come back and play court with your new toys? I’m sure Roman will -” There was a thump that shook the entire house, as something struck the outside wall, knocking a book from the shelf which comically bounced off Remus’s head.

“You will not Say His Name. Ever. Again.” The thunder voice said with so much force that both the eavesdroppers shuddered.

There were choking noises, that sounded like D.N. was trying anyway. They finally died away.

“You may want to put me down.” came the child’s voice, finally. “I just heard ‘mom’s car. Somehow I don’t think they’re going to see much but a grown man attacking a child.”

“Are you… threatening me with humans?”

“How could that possibly be a threat? I’m just thinking of your reputation. Also the dumb witch’s window, since I think Remus is about to come through it.”

There was a heavy sigh.

“I suppose we didn’t ask them not to listen in.”

Rowan shrugged and let go of Remus turning and opening the window, both levels, letting the breath of late winter into the house.

“I don’t know what you expected.” She knelt on the ground and put her elbows on the windowsill, and Remus learned through, looking the young fae over as if for injuries. “Do you want to meet my mother? Because D.N. was right, and she will do her best to feed you if you don’t escape now.”

“She’d just-” he looked confused.

“Since she didn’t see you nearly put her guest through the wall? Yes, probably.” Rowan shrugged.

“‘Her guest’?” D.N. demanded. “I’m your guest.”

“Her house too. So until he violates it, he has guest right.” She shrugged. “So what do you say, your highness? Want to come in properly invited for some tea?”

“Don’t invite him in.” D.N. snapped sounding offended.

“He’s not a vampire, anything I did to block him coming in would also block you.” She said mildly. She glanced up at him. “You’re not a vampire, right your highness? I mean, nothing says you couldn’t be both. I always thought that was what was up with Twilight.”

He just stared, confused at the casual way she said ‘your highness’. Most mortals were confused by formal address, and she was using it like a very odd ‘mister’.

“No.” He looked back at D.N. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where would I go?” he demanded. “I said I can’t leave. I am weak, and fragile. If I wanted to try to go back to the hill, I would probably get eaten or killed. Or both. They wouldn’t even have to know who I was.” He looked like he was considering that.

“Just… stay here.”

“Thanks.” Said Rowan dryly.

“He’s your guest.” He didn’t expect her to laugh.

“You’ve got me there.”

He looked back and forth between Remus and D.N. for a long moment, then stepped off the porch and walked back into the forest, disappearing.

“Well that was lovely.” Rowan stood up and dusted off her knees. “I’m going to go finish that nervous breakdown. In or out? This house costs enough to heat without leaving a window open.”

Rather than Remus going out the window, Danger Noodle stepped back inside.

“Ugh, what is with your window. It’s like walking through incredibly thick cobwebs.”

“It’s just the wards.” She shrugged, and shut the window. “I was completely serious, so if you can keep my mother busy while I scream, that’d be great.” Rowan climbed the stairs, disappearing just as the front door opened.

#willow is writing #recursive fic #AU AU #the witch and the green knight

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jenliliscripts · 4 years

Text

Chapter 218

June’s POV

I prepared extra sets of clothes for us two since we're going to be out walking in the streets. It's better to be ready for anything. I know Jamie's going to come through with my request, but I can’t be complacent. I took the paper bag from the back and handed it to Lia.

"Here," I glanced at her. "Change into my clothes later before we go inside the ice cream parlor. I will too, after you. I just want to be careful. I don't want us to be in every news article tomorrow."

She tugged my arm towards her, then leaned on my shoulder. I instinctively drew closer, letting the side of my head rest on top of hers and began driving. It's a bit challenging to drive in this position, but I didn't want to break loose from her hold. It's just too comfortable, too warm—it's where I want to be.

"Junie…" her soft voice filling the void.

"Hmm?"

"If you could change something in your life, what would it be?"

The question caused me pause and think. The thought never crossed my mind because I was too caught up in my own bubble, stepping into my early 20s without a clear plan in mind, not taking the time to reflect on my past decisions. I used to say I knew what I wanted but they turned out to be empty words. I was chasing after temporary goals that would leave me unsatisfied after I've come to grasp them. I obviously didn't know what I wanted until I admitted that I'm in love with her. Loving her is the most certain thing I have ever felt in my entire life so if I could change anything in my life, I would want to meet her earlier.

"I wish I met you earlier, Lia," I said plainly.

"Why? That's so strange. There are many things you could change, but why that?"

"Ever since you came, life isn’t as dull as it was for me. How about you?"

She placed her other hand on top of our intertwined fingers. "I wish I wasn't afraid to explore the unknown. I wish I would just dive into things head first. Maybe I wouldn't be having a hard time sorting out some matters in my life."

"You know, that's what you told me that night."

Just like that, memories from that fateful night in Vegas flashed before my eyes. I could vividly remember everything that had happened despite my drunken state. Lia isn't really as much of a good drinker like me so she got wasted earlier than I did. I asked her questions that popped into my mind to keep the conversation going and prevent her from leaving. Looking back at it now, I think the real reason why I started latching onto her wasn't just because of wounded ego, but I was also smitten by her from the very beginning and I was quite late at acknowledging that.

Flashback: June 2019 at Las Vegas (June's POV)

She's onto her nth glass of vodka and she couldn't be stopped. I've already reprimanded her for being stubborn. Gosh, I don't want to carry her to her hotel room if she ends up passing out in here.

"Hey, J-june Tay…" she sighed rather audibly, visibly exasperated, probably because she has repeatedly failed to speak in coherent sentences. "June Taylor. Yes. Right that's your name."

"Yes, Miss Kim? You have any problem?"

She shook her head vigorously as she waved her hand. "No, no, no. Though I'm really frustrated with myself."

"For what reason may I ask?"

She pressed her index finger against her chest. "I always run back to my comfort zone when push comes to shove. I'm a competent person, but when shit hits the fan, I hide. I go back to the people and things that give me security."

"Isn't that normal? I think everyone has done that at some point in their life."

She closed her eyes, pouting her lips, showing her disagreement towards my answer. "I hate being a coward. I hate that I have to gather every bit of my strength to stop myself from getting back with my ex. It's tiring. But he feels familiar and he's all I know and I'm afraid he's all I'll ever know."

"He won't be the last, Lia," I told her, causing her eyes to open. She looked at me, bewildered because of my bold claim. "You'll meet more people along the way. Don't be scared of being alone. Actually, I think being alone is the best thing in the world. You get to do everything you want to do—fool around and not feel guilty after doing so."

"Ah! I don’t like being alone! Period!"

"Okay, fine. You don't like it. I respect that."

Squinting her eyes, she moved her face towards me. "You seem like a person who takes a lot of risks and hmm—a thrill seeker? Am I right?"

"I guess you could say that. Why?"

"I want to know—what's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?"

Her voice was noticeably sultry. Whether or not she had intended that, I am piqued by the sudden change in demeanor. I decided to ride along. "Having you here while you're drunk."

She smiled appeared on her lips, a mischievous one, exciting me further. "Why? Is there anything you want to do to me?"

I drew my face closer to her, straight up challenging her. She didn't flinch though, which is impressive if you ask me. My vision is a bit clouded, yet I didn't miss how her eyes sparkled as she fought off my stare. "I can do a lot of things to you right now. I'm just choosing not to."

She reached for my collar and tugged me towards her. Our faces were inches apart, the smell of vodka invading my nostrils as she breathed on my face. "How about we do something crazy? Help me break free from myself, will you?"

"How may I help you with that?"

"Marry me."

End of flashback

And I did marry her. Did I think it through? Nope. I immediately told her we should go to a private chapel and do it. As opposed to her reaction, I was exhilarated the morning after. But that time, my reasons were shallow. I saw Lia like some trophy that I could show my mom because she's so obsessed with marriage. Yeah, it was so immature of me. But now that feelings are involved, I'm genuinely happy by the fact that she is mine—at least on paper for now. It's impossible for her to find someone else while she's married to me. She'd think twice about going back to Tyler more so unless I file for divorce.

I haven't had the chance to ask the reason why marriage was her solution to the problem. Well, how could I ask when she couldn't even remember getting married?

Is it to prove that she can go on without Tyler or is it because she just wanted to do something she wouldn't imagine herself doing—marrying a girl? Maybe she wanted to defy her ideals and did something reckless, you know? There are quite a lot of reasons I could think of yet they remain as thoughts I won't be able to confirm.

"I haven't asked you in detail about what transpired that night," Lia said, momentarily glancing up at me before returning to her original position. "Who came up with the idea?"

"You," I answered, chuckling.

"I did?" Her voice resounded in the car, shock written all over her face.

"Yeah, Lia. It was you," I affirmed as I turned to the right. "You said you wanted to break free from yourself and suggested that marrying me was the way to achieve that."

She face palmed then made a loud squeaking sound, causing me to laugh. "I can't believe it. All along I thought you tricked me into it."

"The last thing I'll ever do is to deceive someone. I've told you before, I only lie when I have to."

"But how can you agree to an absurd idea? You should have stopped me."

"I kinda wanted it too even if it was very impulsive decision…" I confessed, my voice fading into the thin air.

"Wanted what? The marriage?"

"Yeah. And you. I wanted you."

She scoffed, completely in disbelief. "Me? Like you wanted to sleep with me or?"

"If I'm being honest, yeah. I wanted to sleep with you. But I realized something else a few months after. I didn't agree to marry you just because I wanted to get into your pants."

"Then what else?"

Does she really not know? I have never been good at hiding yet she couldn't see through my actions. Is she refusing to see and denying what's obvious?

"Later. We're here."

"Hi, uhm can I get a large cup of vanilla ice cream please and—" I looked over my shoulder. "Lili, do you want any toppings?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p'. She was adorably bobbing her head to the music.

Turning back to the lady, I saw her jaw hanging slightly open. "A-are you June Taylor?"

I winked then pressed my index finger against my lips. "That will be our secret. Can you keep it for me?"

She nodded a few times then cleared her throat. "What else may I get you?"

"A cup of that cookie dough with chocolate sprinkles please."

"Is that girl your girl—" the lady cut herself off, realizing that she's overstepping. "I'm sorry."

A smile spread across my face as the thought came up. "She will be soon. I think I have a good shot at it."

"I'll keep that to myself. Yes, a cup of vanilla ice cream and one cookie dough with chocolate sprinkles coming right up, ma'am."

I served the ice cream then sat across Lia. "Here you go. Plain vanilla ice cream for you."

She grinned, snatching the cup from the tray then took a big scoop. As the ice cream melted in her mouth, she groaned in satisfaction. "Mmm, my favorite. I would never get tired of eating this."

Watching her from my seat, I also began eating my ice cream. Later on, I got a playful idea and just went with it. I stuck my finger into my cup and dabbed some on Lia's face. Her eyes widened, surprised by the rush of coldness that came into contact with her skin. "Hey!"

I pushed my chair back and dashed outside with my cup in hand. She followed me out, screaming at me while she took quick steps to catch up to me. "I'm competitive! I'll get back at you, June!"

My lungs were burning, but I was over the moon. Everything that has happened tonight is so liberating that I'm actually starting to believe we're different people, that this could go on forever. Am I selfish for wanting this so bad? For wanting Lia? And for possibly leaving her with no choice but to stay with me? I'm only holding on to a sliver of hope that she feels the same. However, the way she's acting tonight reinforces my belief that our feelings are mutual.

She disrupted my train of thoughts, jumping at me from behind, engulfing me in her arms. We were on the sidewalk, people walking past us like were nobodies. It felt great. It felt real. I wanted to stay in this moment for as long as I could. I don't want to take her home and deal with reality because I've made up my mind—I'm telling her the truth.

She forced me to turn around and smeared ice cream on my nose. "Now we're even."

I heaved and along with the heavy intakes of breath was the loud beating of my heart. Her other arm was still hooked around my back while I'm looking down at her, my eyes locked at her lips. I'm trying my very best not to kiss her here, but my mind couldn't go against my instincts. I leaned towards her and slowly closed my eyes, only to be stopped by the buzzing of my phone. Lia broke away, quickly retreating and avoided my gaze. I sighed, utterly disappointed by the ruined moment. It's Jamie's so I have no choice but to take the call.

"Yes Jay?"

"You have to go home now, June. Information got leaked. They know you're out. Not with Lia though. They just know you're wandering in the city. It won't be long until they find you."

"Got it. Thank you, Jay."

I terminated the call then turned to Lia. "I have to take you home now. It seems that the media has finally caught up."

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sinner-as-saint · 5 years

Text

Capital Letters 2

Bucky Barnes AU

Part 1: Capital Letters.

Big, BIG thanks to @pchynana for the suggestion. The idea they sent was incredible! They are a true ray of sunshine; a literal angel who is the sweetest ever and so easy to talk to! Show them some love, babies!

Run-through: Heartbroken, betrayed and used, you managed to find a way to escape your heartless boss. Little did you know, that this act of yours would affect the arrogant beast in ways he couldn’t fathom; and may even lead him down the path of guilt?

Themes: SMUT, slight non/con elements, language, angst

A/N: Since none of you were having any of my sadistic fuckery, here’s another part of Capital Letters. Hope you like it! Also, is this turning into yet another series?!?!

Two weeks later, a new you surfaced.

Two weeks of seeing his smug face, and being his little helper; the torture was finally over. Two weeks later, you slapped your resignation letter on his dark, wooden desk – almost as dark as his heart, and walked out of his office without letting him have the last word.

You didn’t even bother to see his face. Which, again, was probably amused and glad that you were finally leaving.

You said your goodbyes to Peggy and walked out of the wretched office. You didn’t even turn around to spare it one last glance.

Finding another job after that was a little bit difficult. Almost every interviewer pried to know why you had left your previous job. Given he was a rather well-known and respected persona, a damn good excuse was needed.

You always made up some lie about how the distance affected your life and how you believed that your wage was insufficient.

You were applying for jobs relentlessly, giving out CVs and tried online applications like a mad woman. And finally one day, you received a letter from the team who worked for the one and only, Thor Odinson.

Your eyes widened as you gradually took in each and every word they had written; black on white – an excitement formed in you.

Not only was Thor Odinson one of the best adventure and romance writers out there, but he was also the biggest competition to J.B Barnes.

People loved Thor Odinson, it’s just that he was always seconds best to J.B Barnes.

A sinister smirk formed on your face; guess life wasn’t planning on treating you like shit forever.

You had applied for the position of a personal assistant. And the letter in your hand mentioned that you had been accepted for it.

You placed the carefully folded letter on your kitchen counter, and stared at the paper in joy and disbelief.

You were now, officially, Thor Odinson’s PA?!

---

Working for Mr. Odinson was a pure delight. He was the complete opposite of the previous a-hole you worked for.

Thor was jovial, vibrant and gentle. The first time you walked into his office; you were intimidated by the man.

His short brown hair, his muscular body, his voice – they all made you feel so small. He had heterochromia and his eyes were the most striking and the most intimidating part of him.

But as you worked for him and formed a rather pleasant relationship with your new boss; you realized that he was a gentle giant. He was always so polite, and truly cared about those who worked with him.

You made new friends at your new work place; two lovely ladies named Wanda and Natasha. They were vibrant beings as well.

You were content with what you had. You were much more confident, and a month and a half later – you were over Bucky.

You couldn’t forget him entirely, but he was like a bad dream. And the thought of him didn’t make you cry anymore, but every once in a while, when his name popped up on your social media, or any magazine; a void formed at the pit of your stomach.

Yet, you were certain that if you ever saw him, you’d be able to walk past him like he was just another stranger.

And just like always, whenever you made any bold claims; life put you to test.

^^^

Guilt.

Guilt was all he felt when the sound of the letter hitting his desk was heard. You didn’t even look at him, but he caught the pain on your face.

A pain he caused. A pain he was, heartlessly, responsible for.

He accepted the resignation, it was the least he could do.

Bucky knew what he did was wrong; immoral even. He had used you like a pawn in a game. He had toyed with you in the most selfish ways possible.

The guilt consumed him.

However, on some days, his ego got the best of him.

I’m J.B Barnes, I can do whatever I want.

He’d tell himself to fire up his dangerous ego.

Yet, when he heard the news that you were now working with Odinson – a wave of guilt and anger washed over him.

He hadn’t realized that he was keeping track of where you were. He wasn’t stalking you or anything, he just asked his team to keep an eye out of where you went next. And being his loyal pets, they did.

They informed him that you were now working for Odinson, as his personal assistant.

He pretended that the news didn’t affect him. He pretended not to care about the fact that the woman he used for selfish purposes was now rubbing it in his face, and was also working for his biggest competition. He pretended that none of it affected him.

But it did.

A strange feeling took over him the first time he accidentally ended up at the same restaurant where you and your new boss were having lunch along with another, red head. A colleague maybe?

A weird, unfamiliar feeling washed over him as he watched how you laughed at something Thor Odinson said.

An itch, a yearning probably; or perhaps was it an unhealthy infatuation?

He shouldn’t care. He told himself so over and over again.

Yet he found that he stayed there, unmoving, at the back of the spacious room, and didn’t leave until you did.

He noticed some changes in you. Was it your hair, was it shorter or longer? Was it your face, or the red lip you wouldn’t sport when you worked in his office?

Why did he care? You were just- just another girl he had fucked.

Right?

He couldn’t believe how comfortable you were around Thor. You looked happier, you were glowing.

And he stroked his ego as he smirked, thinking about how the glow you had on right now was still no match to the one you had right after he had fucked you.

A strange fire formed inside him as he noticed the way Thor was looking at you, even in the presence of the other woman. He looked at you like you were the finest piece of art ever made. He looked at you with . . . pride?

Thor let his gaze roam over you. He looked enamored – by you.

But then, Bucky realized that he was looking at you the same way. So, he lowered his eyes back to the screen of his phone - ashamed. Your laughter rang in his ear and for a second, just for a split second, he wished that he was the one to make you laugh like that instead.

^^^

Having lunch with Thor and Natasha soon became a habit. Outside work, your boss was slightly more open. He was funnier and he could make you laugh like no one else.

However, each day, you had to deal with Nat’s daily dose of teasing – telling you how Thor “definitely has a crush on you.”

And every day, as a ritual, you had to tell her that “It’s nothing like that.”

She’d roll her eyes at you, mumbling about how it was all too obvious.

You could see why people would think that you and your boss were having a thing. You both spent all your time at work together, behind closed doors and wherever he went, you went with him.

He assigned a driver to pick you up in the morning and to drop you home in the evening because he’s nice like that.

From a third point of view, it could be seen as something it is not.

Truth is, you didn’t want it to be more. You knew better than to get involved with your boss given your past experiences. You knew Thor was nothing like Bucky, but you were still very cautious of beautiful, powerful men who made you weak in your knees.

---

Thor’s driver dropped you off at your apartment building and you thanked him, and rushed inside. As soon as you walked out of the elevator, and onto your floor; you couldn’t help but recognize the smell which lingered in the air.

Intense and fresh, it resembled the cologne of someone you knew. And despised at the same time.

Cautiously, you walked towards your apartment door and mentally cursed as the scent had gotten heavier in the air.

If he was here, you would lose your shit.

You rapidly unlocked your door and checked your watch in the process, it was quarter to nine. Dinner with Thor and Natasha was quickly becoming a thing as well.

It was rather late, he wouldn’t be here, would he?

You walked into your own home with pure terror in your eyes. From the front door, you could see the living area perfectly, and the kitchen partly.

And there was no sign of an arrogant asshole. Yet, as weird as it sounds, you could smell his cologne in the air. Faint and lingering, it was definitely there. Unless, of course, you had collapsed into madness.

You dropped your keys on the coffee table, and removed your heels. You stood in the middle of the living room and looked around – paranoid.

The night was silent, and the only thing you could hear was your shallow breaths.

You made your way into your bedroom, and as if life needed another way to kick you in the face – there he was, in all his glory, sitting on your couch, in your room, in your apartment.

Bucky had found a way of making a comeback in your life.

He looked up at you, a smug look on his face; mocking the fact that you believed you had gotten rid of him.

“I’m gonna say this once, get the fuck out or I’m calling security,” you threw your purse on the bed and faced Bucky fearlessly.

He scoffed.

“First of all, your security is terrible. All I had to do was tell them I am your boyfriend, and they let me in with ease. Second, watch that tone. That’s no way of talking to your boss now, is it?” he sassed.

Bucky stood up from the red couch and walked towards you. He looked just a powerful as the last time you saw him.

Dark grey suit, black satin tie, his hair was up in a bun, unshaved yet well maintained beard

He was hoping you would take a few steps back, but you didn’t. Much to his surprise, you stood right where you are and stared into his blue eyes with no emotion. Other than annoyance.

“You’re not my boss. You’re invading my space, just- just leave,” you spoke calmly, not wanting to ruin your perfectly fine mood.

He smirked as he walked towards you, his eyes very briefly flicking to your king-sized bed then back at you.

You gulped.

He wouldn’t touch you, would he?

Would you let him?

He approached you slowly, and stopped when he stood right in front of you.

“You really want me to? I could stay, and remind you how good it felt when you were under me, moaning and squirming until you begged me to stop. Something tells me you would prefer that,” he spoke, extending his hand out and tracing a line from your jaw to your collar bones.

His fingers were soon replaced by his lips as he pulled you into him, kissing your skin while mumbling what he intended to do to your body.

You wanted to push him away, and show him the way out and make sure he never comes back. But his explicit words had you captivated. And no matter how much you tried to resist, both you and him knew that you would give into his touch just as easily as the first time.

You were ashamed, but also very aroused simply by thinking about what it felt like the last time he touched you.

You were very well aware of the way he used you, and how much of a selfish asshole he was; yet you couldn’t fight it.

“Your dress looks nice, you got all dressed up for him? You like him, huh? Just remember one thing babe, Thor can never make you feel the way I do, and if you let him touch you I swear to God I wi-,”

“How the fuck do you know all that? Are you spying on me, you sick fuck? Jesus, get the fuck out! Now!” you yelled, pushing him away.

And when you did so, you could visibly see something flipped inside him like a switch. He looked more feral, more determined.

Without another word said, he grabbed your arm and threw you to the bed which wasn’t too far away, so you fell perfectly in the middle of it.

Bucky climbed on top of you and adjusted your body so your head laid on your pillow as he straddled you.

You tried pushing him of you but he was stronger and your attempts were in vain.

“Bucky!” you shouted again and he smirked, darkly.

“Oh you’ll scream my name all right, just give me a second,” he mumbled as he loosened his tie, took it off and tied it around your wrists.

He then secured your bounded hands to the headboard.

You hadn’t realized that you had stopped struggling until you felt him tightening the knot around your wrists.

You just laid there, under him, breathing heavily while he undid the buttons of his shirt then proceeded to undress you.

He undid your pants and then unbuttoned your white blouse. Bucky then realized how much he preferred you in white. So pure, and innocent; just waiting for him to take you and mark you as his own.

He unclasped your nude, strapless bra and lifted it off your body, then dragged your matching thong down your legs.

In less than a minute, you were naked under him. He allowed his hungry eyes to roam all over your bare body as he grew more and more smitten by each passing second.

He straddled your thighs and bent down to kiss your lips. As soon as his lips touched yours; you couldn’t fight it anymore; your mouth refused to listen to your pleas and invited him in like a traitor.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and his hands each took your breasts; toying with them and earning soft moans out of you.

The sounds you made fueled his lust like no other woman could. After you, he had quite a lot of women in his bed, but none satiated his hunger quite like you did. Perhaps that’s why he quickly became obsessed with you; finding out where you are at all times, finding ways to enter your home and finally having you under him.

“Bucky . . .,” you had meant for it to sound like a warning, yet it turned out like a moan as he tugged on your bottom lip.

“I’m right here,” he whispered against your skin as he nibbled on it mercilessly, ignoring your pleas and groans; he was determined to make you surrender.

He kissed his way down your body, peppering your skin with his feathery touches. He kissed around your breasts, down your stomach and around your belly button.

He placed soft kisses on each of your hip bones which caused you to tug on the restrains around your hand as your eyes rolled back for a moment.

“Seems like you missed me, babygirl,” he whispered right above your wet core, his warm breath fanning against your folds; making you lightly thrust your hips upwards.

He chuckled.

You opened your eyes and looked down your body. He had left a trail of wet kissed along your skin, and at the end of it, was him – kneeling at your feet, mouth dangerously close to your entrance and eyes looking up at you in hunger.

His large hands wrapped around your thighs and he separated your legs further apart, settling in between them; eyes clouded with mania.

You watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours – almost challenging as he placed his mouth against the most sensitive part of you. His tongue slipped inside your folds and he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, the tip of his tongue lingering at your bundle of nerves.

Involuntarily, a loud moan escaped your mouth and your back arched off the bed. Seeing your reaction, he hooked his hands around your thighs and secured you in place; pinned to the bed and against his skilled mouth.

Bucky closed his eyes as he relished the taste of you, his tongue teasing your entrance and his beard scratching the soft skin of your inner thighs as your legs wrapped around his head, cradling him as he lapped up your arousal.

You focused your vision back on him; his beard and lips drenched with your arousal, the lower half of his face hidden from you as he dove deeper into you with each stroke of his tongue.

You felt the pressure building at your abdomen, and you knew you were so close to your release. Surprisingly, he was on his way to grant you your release, if your phone hadn’t rang.

Your groaned; both at the sound of your phone and at the feeling of him lifting his mouth off of you. He panted as he rose off you for a brief second. He looked at your face, his appetite still not satiated, and the sight of his bread dripping with your arousal was sinful enough to make you blush instantly. A few strands of hair fell out of his messy bun and he looked, indeed, feral and cocky and arrogant – yet majestic.

The kind that made you want to jump on him and kick him out at the same time.

The two of you looked towards your purse which was at the end of the bed, in annoyance. Your phone rang incessantly inside of it.

Groaning in frustration, Bucky reached over and grabbed your black purse. He opened it, and fished out your phone, and shamelessly checked who the caller was before you even had the chance to protest.

His jaw ticked as he studied the screen.

“Why the fuck is he calling so late at night?” he showed you the screen and questioned.

“None of your business, and untie me right now, that’s my boss, he probably needs something,” you spoke as the name ‘Thor Odinson’ flashed on the screen.

Bucky smirked. The phone rang, while a devious plan formed in his mind.

He slid his thumb across the screen and immediately tapped on the speaker icon. And Thor’s voice could immediately be heard.

The situation was so messy it gave you a headache. You were tied to bed, with your ex-boss and the man you loathe so much straddling your naked body while your current boss called you to probably talk about something work related.

Fuck.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you alright, what took you so long? Are you okay?” Thor’s concern could be heard and it was something Bucky didn’t like.

He placed the phone right next to your head and got back to kissing your body. His actions shocked you for a moment.

“Yeah, I- uh, I’m good, I just- Oh fuck!” you swore as Bucky spread your legs even further and attached his mouth to your core in no time. His tongue poked your entrance and you felt like you were slowly losing your mind.

And you had to desperately hold on to your sanity because you still were on call with your boss.

“Is everything alright, Y/N? It sounded like you were in pain, should I come over, are you sure you’re okay?” Thor asked again through the phone as Bucky licked lazily around your clit, flicking the little bud with the tip of his tongue.

You bit on your bottom lip, careful as to not let out a moan.

Damn you, Barnes!

“N-no, I’m good. I’m okay,” you panted. “Is there anything you needed, Mr. O- oh holy shit!” you couldn’t hold back the moan as Bucky slipped one finger through your entrance.

Bucky smirked and kissed the glistening skin along your wet folds. You tried scooting away from him but his grip around your thighs was very firm.

“Y/N, a-are you with someone at the moment?” Thor asked, and the hint of confusion and hurt was hard to ignore in his voice which came through the phone.

At his question, Bucky slipped another finger into your entrance and curled his fingers inside of you; earning a quiet, breathy moan out of you.

You blushed at Thor’s question.

“What? No, no I’m just, I stubbed my toe and I- I fell. Sorry for swearing, that wasn’t at you, I’m- what is it you need, sir?” you asked.

The degree to which this situation was unethical and immoral was blowing your mind.

Bucky growled when he heard how you addressed Thor. You never called him ‘sir’. Why?

He placed his tongue back into your folds, stroking your walls with his fingers at the same time. He applied just the slightest bit of suction on your sensitive bud and your bucked your hips into him; panting and turning your face as far away as you possible could from the phone.

You tugged on the restrains at your wrists again, and desperately failed at releasing your hands.

You closed your eyes as your body betrayed you and allowed the pleasure to wash over you.

“I, uh, yeah I’ve been wanting to ask if you probably wanted to join me for dinner tomorrow. Just to celebrate the success of our recent publishing. No pressure, of course, I understand if you-,”

Bucky pinched your skin as soon as Thor’s suggestion was heard by both of you. He lifted his mouth off you and hovered above your squirming body. Slowly, he removed his fingers from your entrance and forced them through your already parted lips.

He pumped his fingers into your mouth, coated with your own arousal, and licked along your jaw and finally kissed underneath your ear.

“Answer him,” he taunted in your ear, low enough for you to hear him, but Thor not to. He knew damn well you couldn’t speak with his fingers in your mouth.

You moved your head around, hoping he would remove his fingers from your mouth. And eventually he did, and left you panting.

“I- uh, s-sure. Of course, I’ll be there, sir,” you replied, eyes closing as Bucky nibbled on the skin at your collar bone. His beard scratched your skin and you were ashamed to admit that despite all that happened, you still liked the feeling of it.

He growled against your skin again as you agreed.

“Okay, alright. See you tomorrow then, Y/N. Good night,” Thor spoke and much to your relief, he ended the call.

Now you only had one man to deal with. The one teasing you.

Bucky’s hand slipped in between your legs again, and he didn’t hesitate before slipping his fingers back in your entrance.

You moved your hips as to meet each thrust of his fingers, and chased your orgasm quickly because he had teased you enough.

You were on the edge, and with a couple more strokes of his fingers against your walls, you came, hard. Gushing at his hand while your walls clenched around his fingers; you moaned his name out loud again. And at the sound of it, his pants tightened even more.

He groaned as he placed his mouth back on yours. He untied your hands and threw the tie somewhere on the bedroom floor.

Instinctively, your hand flew to his hair, gripping and tugging at his roots as he kissed the life out of you. This would have been a different scenario if he was someone who really cared about you, but given he was here just to feed his ego; you couldn’t stand the gorgeous asshole.

Once freed, you flipped the two of you. With you on top, his bulge pressed right against your throbbing entrance. It was your turn to straddle him now.

His hands lazily ran up and down your sides as you kept kissing him.

Bucky moaned when you moved your hips on top of his clothed hard on. He moaned into your mouth as you bucked your hips against his relentlessly.

He wasn’t used to having women be on top of him; usually he was the dominant one in bed. But with you, something was different.

He let you take control, and just when he thought you would undo his pants and cater for his throbbing member, you rubbed your wet core against the very firm tent in his pants and chased another orgasm. Your legs shook as you straddled him, coming again.

You moaned in his mouth as he tried to lift you off to have his way with you, but before he could, you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head.

You kept grinding against him, moaning against his cheek and the friction caused him to almost fall apart as well.

“Fuck! Baby, I- just let me touch you, please,” he pleaded and you smirked against his bearded face. You tightened your grip around his wrists just in case he’d wanna free his hands, and moved your mouth to his ear.

Just like he did to you earlier.

“You seriously think you can walk in here, barge into my room, have your way with me and I’m gonna give in to you completely?”

You spoke, kissing underneath his ear. He shuddered, and you figured that it probably was his sweet spot.

Bucky groaned, but remained silent.

“You’re tempting, Mr. Barnes, very tempting. But enough is enough, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” you spoke again, moving your hips against him just the slightest bit.

You could feel his cock twitching under you. And you loved it.

“You were really good to me today Bucky, but I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out before I call the cops and ruin your reputation forever, understand?” you whispered, allowing your lips to linger around his weak spot before lifting off of him.

You didn’t care about the fact that your breasts were completely exposed, or that he wouldn’t even hide the fact that he was hard under you. You let go of his hands and the immediately held you at your waist, preventing you from moving away from him.

“Y/N, I’m s-,”

“Get out. Now,” you left no room for negotiation. You got off him completely and got out of bed. He sat up immediately and tried reaching out but you moved away from.

He couldn’t bear the sight of you, naked yet unreachable.

Bucky knew he could’ve easily silenced you, and have his way with you whether you were completely willing or not. But he had fucked up already, and he needed to win you back – if possible.

Making his way out of your apartment building and getting into the driver’s seat of his car, Bucky made up his mind.

You were his. And he wasn’t going to let Thor take you away from him.

On the other side, Thor smiled as he ended the call; hearing that you had agreed to have dinner with him the next day. Perhaps this would be the first of many dates.

He had been enamored since day one. Ever since you walked into his life with your pretty face, your body which made him stutter, your calming voice and your easy-going manner; he was falling for you hard and fast.

Meanwhile you were in your room, sat on the floor, naked and deep in thoughts. Why did you let him touch you again?

And most importantly, why did you like it?

Your gaze instinctively flew to your bedside table. Bucky’s recent book was still there, and on top of it was Thor’s recent book as well.

Bucky Barnes brought out the animal in you. While Thor made you feel safe.

A choice was to be made.

Would you make the wise one?

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frangipanidownunder · 4 years

Note

Would you consider a prompt? I have been home from a unexpected and long hospital stay for just a couple of days. The news is all good, but I am tired and it's freezing and gray and rainy here. I am amazed at the level of loving support from my husband and I feel so loved. So I am thinking of Scully, home from the hospital after Tithonus or Redux II or FTF and wondering how that "coming home" goes for her - and Mulder of course. Fic is Medicine Anon

And prompt 39 from the cliché list for @edierone ‘Having a bad day and the other noticing’. Thank you to @chekcough for your excellent betaing.

Living Better: fic

There’s a newness about everything. A sheen of hope. The sun is bright, the sky open, the world seems wider. The furniture in her apartment gleams, her plants are healthier, lush. Her mother must have been in, cleaning and tidying as though hygiene and order could turn around the march of the cancer invading her daughter’s body.

Scully is grateful. She is. Whatever quiet miracle took place over the last few days, she’s been given a second chance and this homecoming, however unremarkable (I’ll be fine, mom), is a new start.

Before. After.

Still, everything feels Herculean. Where there should be wings of freedom, she’s weighted down by invisible cargo. There’s a roiling mass of ingratitude inside her. A fist of anger or shame or bitterness. During her fight against the disease, her mind had accepted her fate and now it’s like her spirit is pissed that she’s having to live again. There’s a nagging voice in her head. You should be doing more, Dana. You should be out there living. Life rushed by once before, don’t let it disappear into the rearview mirror again.

She should be free. Free to feel. She knows she should feel more. People have revealed themselves, their true selves, to her these past months. And Mulder. There’s Mulder. A hero who went in to battle. Who won. And now? Happily ever after is a load too heavy to bear.

With late afternoon shadows playing over the floor of her living room, she’s sitting on her couch, knees tucked under her seat, robe pulled around her frame, still bony and paper-skinned, prone to the cold. Aromatic steam wafts from her cup. Peppermint tea helps with the lingering nausea. There’s a romantic comedy playing in the background and she’s trying to read the novel that Tara presented to her with a ‘I’m sure you’ll love it because I did and we’re related…’ smile. It’s not really her thing, but she has time, once a luxury, to read, to rest, to do nothing.

After a while, the words blur together and the movie’s credit rolls. Her stomach is empty and she knows she should eat. Her mother insisted on leaving cooked meals in the freezer but she has little appetite and her sense of smell has all but disappeared anyway. Where is the joy of food when it’s been reduced to just a necessary fuel?

As the plastic tub of pasta revolves on the plate in time with the drone of the microwave, she remembers the slop from her night in prison, and gags. Not just at the memory of the soggy grey mess of that stew, but at her resolve to be strong for Mulder, to protect him. She fears that resolve has disappeared, along with the cancer. Back then, when he walked into the senate hearing and smiled at her, she’d felt something more than relief. She could admit that now. At her bedside one night recently, he’d collapsed in tears, clinging to her hand like a child. She’d kept her eyes closed for fear of humiliating him further. He was hanging on to life by the same spidery thread she was.

And now they have to move on with life as though nothing has happened.

She throws the dinner in the garbage bin.

Sleep evades her again that night, nightmares swirling around her mind, shadowy figures clawing at her as she tries to run, her feet mired in a squelching, sucking bog. The flash of a bullet. Mulder’s temple exploding. His hot blood splattering over her face.

She shoots up, the beating of her own pulse too loud in the predawn stillness.

Something outside of her control demands to hear his gravelled voice. Calling his number is an impulse. He answers, fear edging his voice. She remembers telling him she’s okay, but the rest of the conversation is lost to the void of her memory. A symptom she hopes is only temporary. Now, Scully pads from her bedroom, drawing her forefinger and thumb along the edges of her cheekbones. Hollow. She rests her hand over her stomach, concave. The points of her hips jutting out. Gaps and sharp edges everywhere.

There’s a hazy film of dawn across the kitchen. As she waits for the tea kettle to boil, she’s lost in the mist frosting the window, the ragged edges of it blooming out before receding to nothingness. Just a dot on the glass. She presses the pad of her finger to it and breathes, leaving a trace of herself on the pane. A sharp rap at the door makes her startle, her elbow knocking over the vase her mother gave her when she bought this place. She meant to put it back in the cupboard. She meant to keep it safe.

Mulder’s inside before she can move to find the dustpan, weapon in his hand, yelling her name. If she had the energy, she’d laugh. Instead, she sinks to her knees, feels the gritty shards of porcelain digging into her skin. Her sigh is ragged, the exhalation physically painful.

“Are you okay?” he says, kneeling next to her. She can sense his hand hovering over her shoulders and she wills him to lower it, to feel the warmth of his touch. Instead, he starts to pick up the broken vase.

She heaves herself up and takes a bag from the tidy under the sink to dispose of the pieces. As Mulder places the larger pieces carefully inside, he looks down at her but by now she’s unable to meet his gaze. His scrutiny will crack her open just like the vase and if she falls apart, she’ll never be put back together.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, without alarm, but he takes the bag and leaves it in the sink before bracing her shoulders, turning her into him and leading her to the couch. “Sit.”

It’s strangely comforting to be ordered about by him. She obeys, exhausted. It’s then that she sees the pearls of blood dotting her legs, collecting in the longer threads of her robe. A sharp diamond of porcelain is sticking out from the skin of her knee.

“Where do you keep your Bandaids?” Mulder’s voice floats over her as she watches the blood ribbon down her shin. She’s no longer shocked by its crimson brightness, having seen it leach from her body so often. But for Mulder, she realises, it’s a cruel reminder of past months.

“In the bathroom,” she says, nodding in the direction. She tries to say ‘thank you’ as he walks away, but the words dry in her throat.

Mulder returns with a first aid kit, unwraps the scissors from their plastic shield and removes the offending shard. She watches his lips form a silent ‘sorry’ as he dabs antiseptic lotion on her, but the sting is refreshing. She can feel it. He holds a cotton pad against her knee and she looks at his strong fingers across her skin. She sees her unshaven legs, her blue veins, her crumpled socks.

“I’m such a mess.”

No response. He dabs at her knee, lifting the pad to see if the bleeding has stopped. He disappears to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water.

“Sorry about the vase,” he says, sinking into the seat next to her.

“It was a gift from my mother. She’ll probably buy two more. She’s…just so grateful, you know?”

He nods. “I am, too,” he says softly. “Very much so.”

Tears burn the corners of her eyes and she presses a finger under her nose to stop the flow but it’s impossible. He lets her weep until she’s wrung dry. Exhaustion leaves her body trembling. He finds a blanket, God knows from where, and covers her.

“You need to give yourself time, Scully. You’ve been through…”

“Don’t say ‘an ordeal’,” she says wearily. She’s heard it from her mother, brother, Father McCue, doctors, nurses. She survived. Life shouldn’t be a trial.

“I was going to say ‘a lot’. It’s not just the cancer, Scully. Your work with me…the abduction, your sister. It all adds up. This disease…how close it came to…” He stops, taking a shallow breath and rubbing at his stubbled chin. “In a funny way it made me reassess everything. That sounds selfish…it’s not what I mean. I…guess that you…not being here would change... everything. You mean more to me that you know, than even I knew.” He looks at her, eyes wet, and laughs in surprise at his own admission.

“Mulder…”

“It’s true! It took your death sentence to stop me suffocating up my own ass.”

A giggle wells up in her throat, along with more tears. Her chest hurts. And she’s not sure if it’s pain or a coming back to life of sorts. His face lights up.

“What I’m trying to say is that this is a second chance. For you, for us, for the work…if you still want it.” His voice lowers and he presses a hand over her arm. “Scully, your health is the most important thing to me. And you need to take some time, as much time as you need.”

The silence of the night is heavy in her head. There were times in the hospital where the midnight hours would stretch elastically until she felt she were forever walking towards an elusive dawn. Time really was a construct. The hours on the clock held no meaning, yet they marked her life in increments – for treatments, for food, for visits.

“I do want to come back,” she says, finally. “I thought I would already be back. Recovery has been…more difficult than I expected.”

He chuckles. “Why does that not surprise me?” He taps her elbow with two fingers. “You are the strongest person I know but you’re also the worst at cutting yourself some slack.” His forehead crinkles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have nothing to prove that you haven’t already, Scully. Especially not to me.”

“Mom keeps coming by and she’s so cheery and happy and it’s hard, you know? That sounds so selfish, but I keep thinking that I have a duty, some kind of moral obligation to live a better life now that I’ve…survived. It’s like the pressure of life has doubled, tripled, and I can’t even make myself dinner.” Her nails dig into her palms. How can she make him understand? She’s alive. She should be grateful, not bitching about her mom. She shrugs off the blanket, runs her hands down her frame. “I can’t even decide what clothes to wear so I just wear this. I brush my hair, put my earrings in, look at my make-up and all I think is ‘why?’. What’s the point? I’ve already beaten this disease. Isn’t that enough?” He pulls her into a hug and presses his lips to the top of her head. “Shouldn’t it be enough?”

His breath ruffles her hair. His chest moves up and down as he breathes and she listens to the solid, steady beat of his heart.

Releasing her, he takes both hands into his, holding them gently, bringing them to his mouth to press a soft kiss against her knuckles. There’s such reverence in his action. A kind of benediction for them both. “I think...I think you’ve put yourself under this pressure, Dana. Nobody, least of all your mother, expects you to leap back into work or life straightaway. I...I don’t want that. We all want you strong and healthy. And your mother, she knows you. Knows you’ll cut her off, give her a hand wave and an ‘I’m fine’.” He smiles. Gets her smiling too. “How many of those have you given out over the last few months, hey, Miss Scully?” He bounces their clasped hands between them. “I’ve heard more ‘I’m fines’ than I’ve seen aliens.”

She laughs at that. Mulder and his ridiculous puns are like the sun finally rising after an eternity in the dark.

He pulls the blanket over her lap and his, squashes a cushion behind his head, points the remote control at the television. “There’s a movie on that I know you’re going to love.”

Leaning against him as he chuckles at the scene playing on the screen, she looks around. There’s a newness about everything. A sheen of hope and the itch of wings forming on her back.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #msr #cancer arc #living better

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twilighteve-writes · 4 years

Text

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 10: The Lead

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed, Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

(Chapter 1)

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Pieces reach to one another.

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Something snapped and disappeared.

Huey dropped wordlessly to the floor, feeling strangely like a ship unmoored. Next to him, Dewey stumbled and caught himself at the wall, took a few quick, shallow breaths, and let out a sound that might have been a scream if it didn’t end up as a whimpered squeak.

“Louie,” they both spoke at the same time.

“What of him?” Violet asked. Her eyes searched theirs.

“We… can’t feel him anymore,” Huey said. His voice sounded like it had come from some faraway place, and his ears felt stuffed with cotton. “It’s like… like us being able to reach him before was us following a thread, and now the thread is snapped and gone.”

Dewey steadied himself and stood more firmly, but Huey could feel rather than see his knees quiver all the same. “Then we have to be faster. Come on.”

Huey took a deep breath. The cotton stuffing his ears dissipated, and he stood up. He still felt wobbly, but he was standing, and that was something. “What are we taking?”

“I’m… not sure yet,” Dewey admitted. “Something that protects, definitely.”

Webby frowned. “I’m not sure there’s one like that, in here. The Other Bin usually has things that are more… volatile.”

Dewey scowled. “Then something that can wreck Felldrake.”

Webby thought it over. “I don’t know if there’s anything like that, either, but Uncle Scrooge keeps quiet about the things he keeps here. We can maybe look around, but…”

“We might accidentally trigger something,” Lena finished. “And it won’t be pretty.”

“You’re the person who knows all about Scrooge’s adventures,” Violet said, looking at Webby. “Any ideas at all? It doesn’t have to be anything particularly shielding, just anything that could possibly be useful at all.”

Webby mulled it over, but Huey was the one who spoke. “The ring,” he said, voice soft enough that he was surprised the others even heard it at all.

Dewey blinked at him. “The Void Ring?” he asked. Huey nodded in clarification.

“Isn’t it the ring that made Uncle Donald and Aunt Della’s magic all… dirty?” Webby asked.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it kinda scary to grab?” Dewey asked nervously. For a guy who was all for raiding his uncle’s dangerous treasures he sure looked uncomfortable with the prospect of taking one of the more disturbing things in the bin.

“Good. Maybe it’ll poison Felldrake’s magic,” Huey said with a huff.

Lena let out a low whistle. “Didn’t think you have it in you, Red.”

“We might need something to heal with but Uncle Scrooge always has the Orb of Remedies with him,” Dewey mused. “We’ll probably be okay. We’re pretty quick.”

“And if we keep our distance we can avoid getting hurt,” Huey reminded pointedly.

“Sure, sure.” Dewey walked off, leading them deeper into the bin, and Huey sighed.

They eventually found the ring, and Violet took and put it into a leather pouch Webby had prepared to make sure it wouldn’t harm anyone in its vicinity. Lena looked relieved that the trip was pretty much uneventful for once and admitted she and Webby had, once, sneaked into the bin before.

“I’ve seen some stuff,” Lena said with a shrug.

“Like what?” Dewey asked in curiosity.

“Like a vision of Webby being turned into a doll which then got shredded,” Lena answered, completely deadpan. She shrugged again. “It’s okay, that’s not real. It’s from a dreamcatcher that apparently shows you your worst nightmare.”

“I can’t decide if the fact that your worst nightmare if Webby being horrifically maimed is heartwarming or horrifying,” Violet said with a frown, obviously disturbed.

“Let’s go with heartwarming, because I don’t want to think of the implication that me being maimed is even an option to be someone’s worst nightmare at all,” Webby blurted. “We’ve got the ring, let’s get out now.”

“Wait,” Dewey said. He headed off another way. “We got that around the same time as the pin. Maybe…”

Huey blinked. “Dewey… you’re taking the Three Feathers Pin? But it made our magic go wild,” he protested.

“I mean, if the worst thing happens and we have to do something, making our magic go wild and hope Felldrake gets hit by it seems like a good enough plan,” Dewey said.

“It’s really not.”

“What other choice do we have? We’re not strong enough to go against Felldrake.”

Huey closed his eyes and took a deep breath. At length, he finally relented, “…okay. Okay.” He opened his eyes and looked at Dewey. “But we’re still not engaging.”

Dewey balled his fists in apparent anger. “But if – “

“I know you meant that as, like, a last resort sort of stuff, but we’re not engaging, okay? Not if we can help it,” Huey hissed. “I know Mom and Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge are getting Louie back, but if – if – “ his words hitched in his throat and he swallowed. “I don’t want to take any risk, okay? I don’t want to lose you. Any of you,” he added, throwing a glance at the girls.

Silence hung, thick like honey, and Huey felt warmth beneath his feathers at the words he had let slip. He didn’t regret speaking them, however. Every word was sincere and true, and they all deserved to know how he felt.

It was broken by Lena, who was arguably the one most unused to open expressions of care and love. Her voice was layered with a wavering front of sarcasm that was as transparent as the wet sheen in her eyes. “Aw, aren’t’cha sweet, Huey? I would sell you for a corn chip, though.”

Huey snorted. “You’re as bad as Louie.”

“Did we figure you the person-to-corn chip conversion? I don’t think you’re worth just one corn chip. You’re worth three just for that confession alone,” Dewey pointed out.

Violet took out a calculator, seemingly out of nowhere. “Well, we can probably figure it out by weight. A corn chip is light, so let’s say it’s about two grams per chip. How much does the average adult weight?”

“Okay, stop, we’re not here to figure out person-to-corn chip conversion! And you’re worth a million corn chips for that confession, okay?” Webby broke in.

“Hey, we don’t know if that’s the correct weight.”

“No offense, Vi, but I don’t really care because it’s not body weight that matters but how precious you are, and you’re all precious to me. Come on, we gotta move.”

“What is this, National Heartfelt Confession Day?” Lena muttered under her breath. The group complied with Webby’s request all the same. They grabbed the pin on their way, having Violet handle it too, and Dewey insisted on making another round to see if there was anything else they could grab. In the end, though, they came out not taking anything else. What they suggested to each other ended up being vetoed on ground of the artefact being too dangerous with a side of downright useless against Felldrake.

When they emerged from the bin, there was a beat when they simply stood silently. “Now what?” Lena voiced their shared thoughts.

Huey turned to Dewey. “Yeah. Now what? It’s your idea; you should know what we’re gonna do next. Right?” He squinted at Dewey.

Dewey put his fingertips at his temples. “Okay, gimme a sec, I’m thinking.”

Huey sighed in exasperation. “Dewey.”

“Give me a break! I didn’t think I’d get this far!” Dewey flailed his arms, settled, and took a deep breath. “Okay! Okay. We can’t try to track the well on our own, none of us have the correct magic. So… so what about we tail Uncle Donald instead?”

Violet tilted her head. “And how do we do that?”

Dewey fell silent, but then there was a gleam in his eyes that Huey didn’t entirely like. He rubbed his hands. “We can do that,” he said, “by blackmailing Launchpad.”

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When they crashed into Launchpad’s garage, he had Fenton over, along with another duck Huey didn’t recognize. Dewey did, however, and he pointed at the man.

“Hey, aren’t you Drake Mallard? The dude who was to be the actor for the cancelled Darkwing Duck movie?” Dewey asked, still pointing. Huey slapped his hand down because really? Dewey should know by now that pointing was rude.

“Um, yes. That’s me.” The man blinked at them, then he turned to Launchpad. “LP, I know you said you were told to babysit some children and we might end up having to help, but I didn’t know you meant five of them.”

“Uh, normally there would be six of them actually – “

“Six?! LP how are you still alive?!”

Fenton broke through the chatter with a quick look at their group and straightening up when he saw Lena and Violet. “Oh, hello! We met before, didn’t we?”

“Yes, but we didn’t introduce ourselves because you were busy with the magic-proof tech,” Violet said. She stepped forward and offered a hand. “My name is Violet. This is Lena.”

“Hi,” Lena said, waving.

“Hi Violet, hi Lena!” Fenton said cheerily, shaking Violet’s hand. “What brings you guys here today? Do you normally just barge into LP’s garage unannounced like this?”

“Um, no,” Huey said, feeling offended at the conclusion Fenton drew.

“Launchpad we need you to help us tail Mom and Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge,” Dewey demanded without preamble.

Launchpad, who was drinking, spat out his drink back into the red plastic cup he was holding. “Sorry, what?”

“We want to tail Aunt Della, Uncle Donald, and Uncle Scrooge,” Webby elaborated. “We want to make sure they’re fine, and get Louie, and in case things get bad we can be prepared.”

Launchpad, for all he acted like a birdbrain at times, looked positively horrified at the prospect. “Kids,” he began slowly, “they’ll kill me.”

“It’s okay, we’ll make sure we stay out of sight,” Violet assured.

“It’s not only them, Mrs. B will kill me too and she’s so much better at spotting things when things get weird,” Launchpad said. “I can’t help you with this. They meant it when they said it’s too dangerous.”

“Well, Darkwing Duck always says to get dangerous!” Dewey protested.

“That’s not – “ Launchpad rubbed his face with both hands. “Oh my god, was I wrong to bring them to marathon Darkwing Duck with me…?”

“Hey now, it’s never wrong to bring kids to watch Darkwing Duck. It’s the best show in the world,” Drake protested.

“Okay, let’s not get hasty here,” Fenton, ever the peacemaker, waved his hands in a placating manner. “Why do you want to tail your – um, the adults to begin with? I’m sure they have their things handled.”

“Because the bad guy they face is bad news and he’s gotten Louie and Uncle Donald has failed in getting Louie back,” Dewey said.

“We don’t blame him,” Huey added. “But it’s clear Felldrake’s stronger, and we don’t know if Uncle Donald and José and Panchito can deal with him on their own. And… Gyro said something to us, before.”

Fenton blinked. “He did?”

Huey nodded. “He said… he said that he thought maybe Mom and the uncles won’t like how he said things either, but if the worst case scenario happens, and they… fail… then Dewey and I, and probably Louie too, we’re the only people with magic we know of who even stand any chance to go against Felldrake.”

Fenton blinked again, then something dawned in his eyes. He closed them with a furrow of his brows and he let out a sigh. “Ugh, Gyro… if he’s not my boss I definitely would have whacked him…” he whispered, almost too soft for Huey to hear.

“Don’t blame him. He’s not wrong,” Dewey said glumly. “We don’t know who else have magic, after all.”

Drake tilted his head. “Magic isn’t real,” he said carefully, sounding more like he was asking than stating. In response, Dewey glowed blue-white and let a crackle of electricity dance on his feathers, while Huey lit himself aflame. Drake jolted in surprise in response, and Huey hid his smile by biting the inside of his cheek to keep it from getting wider. Dewey didn’t bother, openly smirking at the reaction.

Drake turned back to Launchpad. “LP, how are you still alive?” he asked again, with more feeling this time.

“Luck,” Launchpad answered glumly. “Kids, I really don’t think it’s my place to do this. It’s really not safe for you.”

“Launchpad, you really should at least consider helping us,” Lena said. “Look at them. Do you think they’ll stop pestering you?”

“I know they won’t, but I can’t just go ahead and help you guys tail your mom and uncles. And Mr. McD is my boss! I can’t just tail him! And they want you to not go with them for a reason!”

Dewey shook his head. “Launchpad, for real. We’re asking you so it’s just a little bit safer. And this way, you can still keep an eye on us.” He glanced at Huey, and Huey understood what he meant instantly.

He sighed and played along. “You can’t stop us. We’re only asking you out of courtesy.”

Fenton let out an uncertain uhhh while Drake stared at them skeptically. Launchpad, who was the only one even remotely familiar of the shenanigans they’d gotten into, immediately stared at them with trepidation. “What do you mean, courtesy?” he asked.

“Well, if you know and you go with us you can still make sure we’ll be okay, right? There’s no one to do that if we go on our own,” Huey said. “I mean, we could have just run off on our own but we didn’t.”

“Whuh – Mr. McD is, like, out of country right now,” Launchpad said. “There’s no way you can tail him on your own.”

“We jumpstarted Uncle Donald’s boat once. We can do it again if it comes down to it,” Dewey said with a shrug. “I can do it again right now, if I want to. It’s not that hard.”

“You did what to your uncle’s boat?” Drake asked, eyes wide.

Huey shrugged at him with more nonchalance than he thought was possible. “We wanted to go to Cape Suzette.”

“You never told me about this,” Lena said. She looked giddy with the prospect of her friends having done something like jumpstarting a boat. “Red, I thought you’d be the type to stop your brothers!”

“I mean, I tried, but there’s no stopping Dewey and Louie was all for it too,” Huey answered easily. “And when you can’t beat them, join them.”

“And there’s nothing stopping us for doing the same thing now,” Dewey added, pointedly looking at Launchpad, who looked like he wanted to cry. It made Huey feel guilty, and it probably made Dewey feel guilty too, but this was something they both wanted to do. Huey inwardly noted to apologize to Launchpad when this was all over.

“But, wait,” Fenton said, hands flailing. “I know you want to have Launchpad with you, but what will you tail your family with? There’s no plane to go after them. And what’s stopping the tech to short circuit? You all know tech and magic don’t mesh.”

Launchpad brightened and shot Fenton an immensely grateful look. “Yeah! That’s a good point!”

“I mean, if we want to tail them safely then we probably would stay far enough away that we won’t show up in their radar,” Webby pointed out.

“And Fenton’s here,” Violet added. “I’m sure you can build us a better radar to track them with. And what’s stopping you from magic proofing our vehicle?”

Fenton opened and closed his mouth wordlessly for a moment. “Wait – wait a second here, don’t rope me into this.”

“You’re the one who helped Launchpad with telling us the shortcomings of our plan. Are you planning to abandon Launchpad now that you’re in this too?” Lena challenged.

“Um,” Fenton squeaked.

Drake tilted his head. “You kids really won’t back down, huh?”

“No way,” Dewey said forcefully.

Drake stared at him for a moment, then looked away. He rubbed his neck. “You know, I… I know someone. Friend of a friend of a friend, sort of. He… has access to a plane.”

Huey straightened at once. “You can help us?”

“DW!” Launchpad whined.

“I mean, you kids are pretty much set on going,” Drake pointed out. “And I was a stubborn kid, too, so I know you guys are serious about going on your own. Plus I also have experience dealing with… super stubborn kids, and just straight out telling you no isn’t the route I can take if I want you kids to stay put – and you guys don’t want to stay put, so that point is moot anyway. If you really have jumpstarted a ship before, there’s no telling if you won’t do it again, and as impressive as that feat is you’re still all kids. It’s really better if someone goes with you so you won’t get hurt or anything.” He glanced at Launchpad. “And really, I think it’s better to go with them than let them go on their own now. If you go with them, you can at least tell your boss you can’t stop them so you decided to keep an eye on them. If you don’t, there’s no damage control. Best care scenario, you get fired.”

Fenton shuddered. “I don’t know if I want to know what the worst case scenario would be,” he said. “And if Launchpad is involved and I know and don’t help, I’ll face the consequences too.”

“I’m glad I’m not working for Scrooge McDuck,” Drake sighed.

“Oh no, there’s no stopping Uncle Donald and Mom from hunting you,” Huey said as casually as he could.

“See? Now I’m roped in, too.” Drake shook his head. “I’ll… contact the guy. But I don’t know if it can withstand magic, or if the radar is good enough.”

Fenton let out a longsuffering sigh. “I can make some modifications.”

Launchpad looked at his two friends and let his face drop to his hands, groaning loudly. “…I’ll pilot the plane,” he said at last.

Something like hope settled in Huey’s chest. Things were finally starting to look up.

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The flight to take the money seed was a lot longer than any of them was comfortable with, no matter how far Della had stretched her skills both as a pilot and as someone proficient with magic. She was at the ends of her limit by the time they landed.

Donald could tell from the feel of her magic.

He wasn’t the only one who did. Uncle Scrooge noticed, too, and he laid his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay, lass?”

Della jumped – a clear indicator that she wasn’t, but the smile she threw on was decidedly deceptive. “Yeah, never better! I can do this all day.”

Donald frowned. Uncle Scrooge did the same and gave her a stern look. “Della.”

“What? I mean that, I’m fine!” She stood and wobbled back into the seat instantly. “Okay, not as fine as I’d like. But mostly fine.”

“You kept using magic the whole way,” Uncle Scrooge pointed out. “Rest up when you can. We’ll be back quickly.”

“But – “

Donald scowled at her. “Don’t make me tie you into your chair, Dell.” His magic brushed hers to drive home the seriousness of his threat, and she stilled. The brief jolt of surprise, disbelief, and longing clued Donald in to how much she’d missed him, and he wondered how long it had been since he’d let their magic mix and mingle together.

Far too long, it seemed. But his magic was different, changed when he took on the amulet again. He had noticed how the difference in his magic made Della hesitate when she first realized his magic had changed, and he thought it had been kindness to keep his magic out of her reach.

He shelved that for later. He had other things to worry about, right now.

Panchito groaned. “Donald, you’re using my lines to her!”

Donald rolled his eyes. “Hey, if it fits.”

“That can’t do, Donal’. You have to be creative with your threats,” José said.

Donald threw them a withering look. He opened his mouth to retort, but Magica cut him off with a scoff, “Are we going to dawdle here all day or are we going in to take the seed?”

Goldie let out a noncommittal sound. “I mean, I’m content to sit back and watch the drama unfold.”

“We’re facing a time limit,” Magica reminded.

“Which is why we need to get the seed! Let’s go!” Della stood from her seat, only to fall back into it when Uncle Scrooge pushed her down with his cane.

“After what you did last time with Dewey, I’m not ready to let you near the seed yet,” he said. “And you need rest.” He glanced at Goldie and Magica. “Can I trust you two to babysit her?”

“Babysit?!”

Goldie lifted a brow. “You just don’t trust us to go inside, do you?”

“Well, that, too. But I also need someone to keep an eye on this rascal.” Uncle Scrooge poked Della with his cane, prompting an indignant hey from her.

Goldie smiled. “Fair enough. Shame, I was hoping I could have spent some more time with dear José on the way, but I suppose that can wait until later.” At the curious hum José let out, she shrugged. “Our magic does have some similarities.”

José’s eyes lit up. Panchito and Donald shared a look, decided then and there that Goldie and José teaming up would be a bad thing for absolutely everyone else, with Goldie being able to charm absolutely everyone into trusting her and José being able to coax absolutely everyone into doing what he wanted, and dragged him out of the plane, into the cold. Xandra followed them silently – she had been silent for a while, eyes scanning the horizon with an alertness that Donald hadn’t seen in a while – and nudged them to walk faster.

Uncle Scrooge led them, and in the end the walk to take the money seed was as uneventful as uneventful could be. They were back to the plane soon, and while Della was all reared up to fly again, Uncle Scrooge managed to coax her into resting some more.

“What now, though? We can’t just sit still and do nothing here,” Della protested.

“We’re not sitting still and doing nothing,” Xandra said, speaking up for the first time. “We’re giving Donald a chance to figure out how to track the well and the logistics of dealing with the magic.”

Donald blinked at her. “Will it be draining?”

“Very,” Xandra said. She bit her lip in thought for a moment. “Try drawing out power from the amulet, and maybe extra energy from José and Panchito.” She glanced at the two inquiringly.

Panchito nodded readily. “Of course! Take as much as you need.”

“Anything to minimize the risk,” José added.

Donald took a deep breath and stared at the three golden seeds in his palm. He didn’t really want to draw power from José and Panchito, didn’t want to treat them as magical batteries, but if it came down to it he’d probably do it unconsciously. The amulets were connected to one another, and it was ridiculously easy to follow that connection to the person wearing them.

“Okay,” he breathed. He looked up at Xandra. “How do I do this?”

Xandra sat cross-legged in front of him and prompted him to do the same. Once seated, she took his hand and pushed his fingers to grip the seeds in his hold. He let her.

“Close your eyes,” she said, “and breathe deeply.”

Donald complied.

“The magic in the seeds is faint, but I know you can sense it,” Xandra guided. “Can you feel it?” At Donald’s nod, she squeezed his hand. “Okay, now dive into it. Let its magic mix with yours. It will be counterintuitive because it’s not water magic, but it’s possible to do.”

Donald took a deep breath. He could feel the seeds’ magic, just as Xandra had pointed out. Something about it reminded him of Louie; of something glimmering and precious, but it was different. Louie’s magic was a quiet thing that breathed, but the seeds’ lay dormant, and Donald wasn’t sure if it could grow stronger if stroked awake. He tried anyway, nudging and poking it with his own magic, and it was like trying to mix water with oil. Until, slowly, the seeds’ magic began responding to his better and agreed to mix and be molded.

Immediately, he could feel himself being drained. He frowned, grunting, almost instinctually reaching deep into himself and grasping at the tethers of José and Panchito’s bonds and drawing from them.

Something shifted and pushed at him, wriggling in his head and making way to put itself in. It slotted into place, something screamed to be found, and Donald opened his eyes with a gasp.

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Della didn’t like how Donald looked right now.

She knew he was trying to get Louie back. Her baby. His, too, probably even more so than hers. But it didn’t change the fact that Donald looked different, felt different, and she didn’t like that.

The moment Donald wore his amulet, his magic had changed. It felt like the sea, but it was also more; it was also rain and rivers and lakes, but it was still also the sea, it was still Donald. The moment he reached into the seeds’ magic, the body of water that was Donald’s magic changed its face yet again and Della couldn’t recognize it.

And the change of magic was accompanied by a physical one, and something in her squirmed until she tasted bile in her throat. His magic, normally enveloping him in wave-like deep sea blue light speckled with white seafoam, had adopted a pale aquamarine with glittery golden sheen that shone through him and spread gold all over the interior of the plane. By him, José and Panchito exuded a similar golden sheen; dimmer but there all the same, most likely a byproduct of the way their magic were intertwined with one another’s through their amulet.

The initial change of his magic and the way he kept his distance after had been alienating enough. The fact that Della was watching it change once again into something she could barely recognize made a part of her want to weep.

Donald gasped and opened his eyes. His dark eyes had changed light, the lightest aquamarine, a glittery gold sheen covering the irises and spreading to the sclera until the white was nearly covered with all-encompassing gold. His magic, now barely even feeling like water anymore, pulsed. “The well,” he breathed softly.

Xandra leaned forward, hands hovering uncertainly around Donald. “Do you know where it is?”

Donald blinked. His gaze was almost blank, and his voice was lilting and untethered. When he spoke, his answer was almost as chilling as the nearly unrecognizable, eerily clear voice he used.

“Home.”

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yamisnuffles · 5 years

Text

In The Beginning

The first of what will be a series of one shots set in my Too Much of a Good Thing (they’re both angels) au. Read on Ao3

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There once was an angel who didn’t fall. He didn’t make a million mile freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur. He didn’t even saunter vaguely downward, so much as vaguely… leftward. When the Almighty started to get snippy with his never ending questions, he drifted back to the stars. When it seemed like things were coming to a head and the other angels started to fight, he got right out of the way. He fell back into the vast expanse of space to wait things out.

It wasn’t bad out there. In fact, he enjoyed it for a while. He settled in between a pair of binary stars, his light one with theirs as their light was one with each other. They were good company as far as stars went. Better at the moment, at least, than his fellow angels. Half of them would drag him into a battle he’d rather have no part of and the other half, well, probably the same for different reasons. Not that he couldn’t see why the rebels had started to take issue with the way things were. If he couldn’t understand, he wouldn’t have so many questions.

The problem was, those questions didn’t go away while he hid. If anything, as angels Fell and became demons and as more of God’s newest creation was unveiled, the questions increased. When he finally poked in a bit closer to get a good look at it all, he found there were dark whispers that it was all just another step in the War, that this was all a means to an end in settling the battle between Good and Evil. Salathiel, seraph and star maker, couldn’t imagine that could really be the case… could it? She was a bit inscrutable, sure, but She couldn’t want more of that. But that was another question and he’d seen what happened to angels who questioned Her. Orl, seen as well as one could, tucked neatly into a nebula as he’d been in the final moments of the War.

There was only one way to get answers and that was to find them for himself.

“Right, I’ll just… hop down and check things out. She couldn’t object to that, could She? Just some sightseeing.” Salathiel’s molten gold eyes jumped from star to star, as if expecting someone to appear and object. He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “Yeah, nothing to it. Just a quick pop into the garden. Nothing so bad about that.”

He waited another moment for the universe to protest. No one said a word. Heaven had bigger things to worry about than one stray seraph, what with humans up and about in Eden. Hell was too busy trying to figure out how to stir up trouble to concern themselves with a single angel who might have been in their ranks if he hadn’t decided, nah, actually, I’ll sit this one out. She was watching because She was always watching but She decided to stay quiet on the matter. It was a new thing She was trying for some ineffable reason.

“No reason to go through official channels, though,” Salathiel said, rolling his shoulders and giving a flap of his six wings. “Lots of paperwork, that, and it would just be trouble for everyone.”

Having at last properly talked himself into the thing, there was no looking back. He flew through the stars and addressed them each by name as he passed. He made a playful loop about the sun that slung him down to Earth. He closed his eyes and revelled in the feel of the atmosphere against his skin. It was so different from the void of space that he’d grown used to. He could feel the air, the infinitesimal pull of water droplets on his feathers as he broke through fluffy white clouds.

He opened his eyes and pulled to a stop far enough away to take in the whole of Eden. He looked at it with eyes sharp enough to pierce the furthest reaches of the universe when he wanted. While he didn’t need to see quite that far, he delighted in what he saw through the thick canopy and in the glimmering water. He loved his stars more than he loved himself but this was something different. It was lush and living. It had a pulse all its own. Ants marched in lines. Wolves sang out their joy. A giraffe was brought level with the trees by its ungainly neck. A chameleon slipped from the speckled brown of bark to dull grey when it decided to sun itself. And then there were the birds. Oh the birds, they brought a homesick pang to Salathiel’s chest as they darted to and fro on wings of every color. There seemed one for each angel in Heaven above and even for those now down below.

And all that was to say nothing of the garden itself. There was so much green, of so many kinds. There were dark, waxy emeralds, violent bursts of chartreuse, and variegated combinations of every shade in between. Even Salathiel’s prized nebulae seemed lacking in comparison to some corners of this paradise. He had to get in for a closer look. All the better, too, because he’d come for answers and the longer he lingered, the greater the chance that he was dragged back to Heaven before he got them. He found an open patch of dewy grass and dropped down on it like a rock. Instead of being soft and springy, he was surprised to find it was slimy and gross and sort of squidgy between his toes. His nose twitched. It also smelled… evil?

He froze and became aware of a rasping, muffled sound. He picked up his left foot, only somewhat surprised to find a strange face underneath. Salathiel calmly raised one crimson eyebrow.

“What was that?”

“I said get off me you stupid- eep!”

Salathiel shook his head. “What kind of self respecting demon says, ‘eep’?” he drawled.

“I didn’t… you surprised me,” the demon sputtered. They had one arm free of the dark, rich soil and tried to pull themself the rest of the way out to recover some of its remaining dignity but the angel’s other foot still pinned them in place. So they settled for huffing and glowering. “You’re not supposed to be here. There’s only the one angel and he’s off on top of the wall over there.”

Salathiel’s heart jumped. His eyes flicked upward but the heavens were still silent. He looked then to the wall and the angel that indeed held vigil there. That angel wasn’t looking but could turn at any moment, especially if there was a demon shouting about angels who were doing things they ought not. Shit! How had he missed him?

“Yeah, well, you’re not supposed to be here either,” he countered, pretending at a calm he no longer felt.

“Demon, in case you forgot. I’m supposed to do what I’m not supposed to do.”

Salathiel opened his mouth to respond but found no real way to reply to a word jumble like that. So he struck the demon down instead with a decisive crack of ethereal power and sent it back to Hell. He felt a bit bad about that. He didn’t really have anything against the Fallen, that one just had the misfortune of catching him when he was feeling more than a little jumpy. He wasn’t used to feeling jumpy.

He probably should have taken it as a sign. He’d been spotted as an interloper the moment he set foot in Eden. It would be best to cut his losses and head back before someone else saw him. The problem was, there was still so much he wanted to see. Namely, the angel that was supposed to be standing guard. And yes, he knew that was the very last person he should have sought out but he wouldn’t have been there in the first place if he let such quibbles hold him back.

He waved his hand to miracle the unsettled earth back into place so that it looked like the demon had never been there at all. Better, in fact, for the way the grass stood a little taller and greener at the touch of his miracle. He spared it a brief smile before he took wing once more. He flew low at first, letting his fingers graze the treetops, and then caught a thermal draft that carried him up to the top of the wall.

The angel there smiled blandly at him. He blinked a pair of eyes as blue as the newly minted sky, eyes like a nebula the seraph had once made with a color impossible to pin down, and then those same eyes widened.

“Oh! Oh my heavens. I didn’t see- you’re- hello,” the blond angel stammered. He held a hand over his chest as though actually dependent upon the heart beating inside of his corporation. He needed to take a few shallow breaths before he could say more. “I’m so very sorry if I seem out of sorts. I wasn’t expecting anyone…?”

“Salathiel,” the seraph provided with a polite dip of his head.

“Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,” came the response, complete with a fluttering smile and outstretched hand. Salathiel gladly took the hand and offered a wide smile of his own. “As I was saying, Salathiel, I didn’t think there were any other angels here.”

Salathiel scratched the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, not really here on department business. Between you and me.”

Aziraphale’s smile faltered. “You’re not?”

“Yeah, finished with all my official business. Stars made and all,” Salathiel said, waving his hands vaguely and no longer meeting those shining eyes. “Not really much to do after that. Figured I’d see what all this new creation was about. Wasn’t the only one with that thought, I guess, with that demon lurking about.”

“Demon!” It was then that Salathiel noticed the other angel had a flaming sword which he made a point of brandishing. “I didn’t know there were any demons about. Where is it?”

For all that Aziraphale swung that sword around, it didn’t look much like he wanted to use it. Well, Salathiel could help with that. “Nothing to worry about. I smited it. Smote? Whatever. Gone. Back down Below.”

Aziraphale sighed in relief and immediately shrank from his uneasy fighting stance. “Oh good. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Really. Like I said, not supposed to be here technically speaking. Not here for anything bad,” Salathiel assured. In theory, an angel wasn’t supposed to be able to do anything bad. That’s what demons were for. The problem being, if angels couldn’t do anything bad, there wouldn’t have been demons in the first place. Salathiel wasn’t all too eager to join their ranks, having just… smitten one. Seemed like a bad first impression. “Only wanted a look around, is all.”

Aziraphale’s smile brightened once more. “Well that’s alright, I’m sure, so long as you don’t trouble the humans. They can startle quite a bit if you simply drop in on them, poor dears. It’s why I’ve tried to keep my post up here.”

“Won’t even know I’m there, I promise.” Salathiel’s wings trembled with sudden excitement. He was ready to fly back down into the garden when something else occurred to him. “Anything else I should be aware of? Like I said, don’t want to cause any trouble. Can’t really avoid it, though, if I don’t know what it is.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.” Aziraphale lifted his sword once more and used it to point to a tree in the center of the garden. “That is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Word from the top is that its fruit is strictly off limits.”

“Knowledge of-” Salathiel bit off the rest of the statement. He’d been about to ask the sense in that, given that they had only a moment before agreed that you couldn’t avoid doing wrong if you didn’t know what wrong was in the first place. Of course, that would be questioning orders and from the very top at that. Best to keep that one to himself. “Tree bad. Got it.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale said with an accompanying nod. “Now I had better get back to guarding. If one demon tried to sneak in, there’s no saying when another might try the same.” He glanced sidelong at Salathiel. “Not that-” He spun the ring on his pinky finger and then tugged slightly at his sleeve hem. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m shooing you off. It was a pleasure meeting you. We… we haven’t met before, right?”

“Nah. Lot of stars up there. Kept me too busy to mingle.”

Aziraphale’s pink lips widened into a charming circle. “You did say you made the stars, didn’t you. I was still too surprised at you being here for that to really sink in.”

“I mean, not all of ‘em but yeah.”

Salathiel swept his arm wide to rain stardust into Aziraphale’s cloud of white blond curls. This made the other angel’s eyes widen. A smile that lit up his whole face appeared and brought a rosy hue to the apple’s of his cheeks.

“Well, they’re beautiful. Have you seen them from here? No, I suppose you haven’t if you’ve only just arrived. But you should! They’re gorgeous from up there, of course,” he said, pointing to indicate Heaven, “but they’re something else from here. They make me feel so big and so small all at the same time. Which might not sound pleasant but I assure you it is. It’s quite a singular experience, to gaze on them from the vantage point for which they were created.”

The pink in Aziraphale’s cheeks deepened to red. “Listen to me go on, as if you need me telling you what the stars look like. I’m sorry. I’m holding you up now.”

Salathiel found it impossible to respond immediately. The world felt suddenly off kilter. He felt like he did when the heart of a new star formed in his palm, all filled up with the light of what it would become. He was tempted to launch himself back into the heavens to create a star out of that feeling. To name it Aziraphale. Which was ridiculous… wasn’t it? He really shouldn’t have spent so much time alone if it meant he was going to gape like a fool at every new angel.

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, no problem. I’ll just-” He thumbed back at the garden. One decisive flap of his wings brought him into the air. Before flying down again he blurted out, “I’ll come back tonight? To look at them with you? The stars, that is.”

“That sounds delightful, my dear.”

And with that, Salathiel fell. He tucked his wings in and dropped like a dart through the trees to escape the mortification of the way his face burned. It was only as some bushy tailed something or other went skittering off that he remembered he’d promised not to startle the humans. He had also meant not to draw attention to himself and then he’d gone and chatted up the first angel he’d seen. He shrugged. Not too late to do things right.

Seemed to him the easiest way to go unnoticed was to look like something that belonged. Since there was only meant to be the one angel in Eden, his current form was right out. He supposed he could tuck his wings away but if the humans thought he was one of them that would probably cause more problems. No, something else from the garden would be the best way to go.

He considered the animals he’d seen and the ones he’d known were planned in the latter days of creation. Unicorn could be fun but it was unquestionably flashy and he was hoping to keep a low profile. A bird was an obvious choice and would give him a good vantage point to explore. The only issue being that it was too obvious a choice. He’d done the flying thing. Go big or go home and he wasn’t of any mind to go home at the moment.

The barest hint of movement caught his eyes from a low hanging branch. “Ah, yes. That’ll do,” he murmured before concentrating on changing his form. Scales sprouted in waves and a massive gold and white serpent flopped unceremoniously into the lush undergrowth. “Now thissss isss a change in perssspective.”

He wasn’t truly a snake so much as a snake shaped angel, so the world hadn’t shifted as much as it might have. However, things were about as far from the norm as they could be. He squirmed experimentally and after some trial and error figured out how to move about. He slithered slowly at first, enjoying the feel of the moss under his belly and the shift from cool in the shade to blissful warmth in the dappled sunlight on the forest floor.

He lifted his head to get a better look about. He couldn’t see so much as a patch of blue through all the plants. The garden, which had already looked lush, was now an absolute riot of greenery. His tongue flicked out instinctively and he would have blinked in shock if he still had eyelids to do so. Space was scentless by nature and Heaven was relatively sterile by design, but Eden was almost overwhelming. He dropped his head to continue forward. He had a stargazing appointment that night and there was a lot of ground he wanted to cover before then.

The variation of life in Eden seemed endless. There were new creatures great and small everywhere Salathiel looked and supporting them, limitless types of plants. Salathiel would drift one way to investigate something that had caught his eye only to be pulled in another direction by something else. With so much to see and only one thing to avoid, he could have easily spent a literal eternity there.

Unfortunately, while Salathiel might have understood the delicate balance that was needed to set the stars in the sky, there were some forces that were beyond his control. Namely, in this case, the inextricable pull of curiosity. He hadn’t meant to go toward the tree. In fact, he’d made a concerted effort to stay away from it, but when he saw it looming in the midst of a small clearing, there was nothing he could do to make himself turn away. He lifted his head and stared, all the while knowing he shouldn’t.

“Aren’t you lovely. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Gentle as the voice was, Salathiel could have jumped out of his skin at the sound of it. He’d thought himself the only creature in the area. Which was, when he thought about it, another fact that should have warned him off. Instead he found himself looking at one of the two humans. Eve, if he wasn’t mistaken. She was standing on another edge of the clearing and padded softly across the grass to get a better look at him.

She reached out a hand and ran it smoothly over his head and down his neck while he remained transfixed. “I’ve seen similar but none quite like you. Just who are you?”

“I’m-” It was only as the woman gaped at him that Salathiel realized she probably hadn’t been expecting an answer. Well, too late now. “You can call me... Crawley,” he continued, his voice a low, reassuring hiss.

There, that should cover it. If word got back to anyone Upstairs, they would just think it was a new animal like Eve did. Maybe. Hopefully. For her part, Eve quickly got over the shock of a talking snake. She smiled and stroked his scales once more.

“Are there other animals who can talk, Crawley?” she asked. “There’s only Adam here and while he’s good company, it does get lonely.”

“Jussst me. I think. Don’t know everyone.” He slithered over to the tree, only wishing to get a better vantage point for a discussion. He hung down from a branch that put him at eye level with Eve. “We can talk, if you’d like.”

“I’d enjoy that very much,” she said, joining him under the bough. She ran her hand over one of the ruby red apples and chewed thoughtfully on her lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else here. The animals all stay away. Even Adam keeps back.”

This was where Salathiel should have cautioned Eve off, where he should have said to follow the example of the others. Instead he said, “I don’t understand what’s sssso bad about it. Why can’t you know the difference between good and evil?”

Eve pulled her hand back, apparently only realizing she’d reached up to one of the fruits in question. “God said we weren’t to eat it.”

Salathiel knew he shouldn’t press but if anyone knew the answer, surely it was one of those who had been given the commandment in the first place. “Yesss, but why? Seemssss like a useful thing for you to know.”

Eve scrunched up her face in thought. She looked from what she thought to be a serpent, to the apple she’d just caressed, and then down to her hands. When she looked back up, there was doubt coloring her warm brown eyes. “I’m not sure why.”

“How will you do right if you don’t know what’s wrong?” he pressed. It was no wonder God had made such knowledge something that could be consumed. Salathiel felt hungry for answers. He thought of the angels. Or, rather, of the former angels. The Fallen. Bad, wrong, evil- none of that had existed when they were created. Would they still have done what they did if they knew the difference? They were punished for a crime they couldn’t have truly understood. A crime Salathiel still didn’t quite understand. “What if you did a bad thing, meaning to do good? Or a bad thing not really meaning to do anything? What if you were thrown from paradise and never knew why?”

The first clouds of a coming storm passed over Eve’s brow. She wasn’t looking at the serpent in front of her or the tree and its fruit. She clutched a hand over her breast with a frown. “What if that happened to Adam?” Her jaw set and she reached out to the nearest apple. “You’re right. I should know.”

“Wait! I didn’t-”

But it was too late. Eve bit into the apple and humanity’s fate was sealed, as was the fate of the angel who accidentally brought sin to the world.

#fic #good omens #good omens au #angel!crowley #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #but only for a bit #my writing #go au: tmgt #crowley was not raphael

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awkwardspontaneity · 4 years

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Ebony

soooooo........ I mayhaps have written a thing. I wrote it for my little brothers final English assignment and it’s kinda been sitting in my docs vibing. It’s inspired by the horror genre but I don’t think it’s scary?? 🤷‍♀️

Only has 2 characters, MC being gender neutral. themes of death so, be warned ig.

warning of probable bad writing?? low-key had to redeem myself after an embarrassing spider related crackfic I wrote for someone

Beep...

Whose alarm was that?

Beep...

‘Not mine…’ Sam thought. They didn’t have work today.

Beep…

So what was that noise? What was going on?

Images of highway signs flashed behind closed eyelids. Brows furrowed as the memories came back. Dark roads... Pouring rain... An argument on the phone... Was that a deer?

With a cry Sam jolted forward. It was still dark. The only source of light came from the numbers on the dashboard. Through cracked glass, Sam could make out the 1:3, a black spot covering the final number. Was it still around 1:30 in the morning? Or had the clock stopped with the car’s momentum?

How long has it been?

Something was broken. Was it Sam? Everything and nothing hurt all at once. Like Sam had been thrown out of their own body on impact and was now watching someone else's agony. The tree had stood its ground, metal giving way to the firm embrace of the centuries old oak.

The ringing in Sam’s ears gave way to sound. Thunder crashed above, earth shaking from its force.

The sound was nothing compared to the hoarse cry that ripped from Sam’s throat.

------

The rain had stopped by the time Sam woke up again. The moon shone above, peeking through the canopy of trees like an eye.

Always watching.

Sam was lying down. Splayed across the forest floor. How had things become such a mess? They were supposed to be at home by now. Sitting at the coffee table as if that stupid argument had never happened.

Would anyone notice I’m gone?

Maybe it was best this way. A moment of peace at the end. No more fighting to hold on. Like the lone leaf fluttering from its branch to the ground. The fall would be calm… easy.

Snap!

Awareness flooded through Sam, body vaulting to a stand. Every instinct screamed to run. But the muscles wouldn’t listen.

What was the point in fighting when they had been on the brink of defeat only seconds ago?

“Is anyone there?” No one responded to the shaky call. The forest was quiet. Dead quiet.

And then the shadow appeared.

A dark figure moving with a swiftness unlike any person.

Instincts won. Beat up sneakers taking the young adult through the undergrowth and deeper into the woods.

The chase didn’t last nearly as long as the adrenaline. It was almost pathetic, the way Sam slumped against a tree body protesting even the shallow breaths. Sam began to wonder if they had swallowed glass from how torn and raw their throat felt. Gripping the bark with trembling hands, Sam choked back a sob. The wind in the leaves was the only noise.

The ten minutes Sam sat waiting felt like hours. Every noise echoed, striking fear like a gunshot in the dead silence. Dark thoughts gnawed at already frayed nerves. There was nowhere to go but back. Find the car. The phone waiting to be retrieved from the Volvo’s grave.

Would anyone even answer the phone?

Braced against the tree, Sam forced down the bile. They had to make it home. Apologize for all the harsh words.

2 steps.

They had to go back.

4 steps.

Keep moving. Don’t let it catch you.

7 steps.

There it was. The dark figure waiting. Far enough that no features were visible. They just stood there.

The longer the stand off held out, the more the figure blurred. Whether it be from the tears spilling down Sam’s face… or the ebony smoke seeping from the dark cloak. Staring at it was like being pulled into a void.

And then it moved. Flickering with tendrils of ebony fog reaching out like an octopus. Sam stumbled over roots falling to the ground. They didn’t even feel pain as they scrambled back up and running like their life depended on it.

Because this time… it just might.

------

Sam ran until they saw lights. Pushing burning muscles past the point of exhaustion for the sake of reaching the dirt road up ahead. It was lined with cottages leading to a lake at the end. If things were different, Sam might have taken a moment to wonder at the shimmering light over the lake. Glistening at the end of the road.

“HELP!” the scream tasted of iron as it tore from an already raw throat. Sam would care later.

A couple was entering their home nearby. A man laughed as he ushered the woman inside. Sam called out, vaulting up the stairs as the lock clicked shut. Still they pounded on the door with scratched arms, begging for someone to see them.

“Open the door! PLEASE! I need help.” Sam shouted and cried, begging for the door to open. Or at least for a voice to respond. For someone to notice the screaming person outside their homes.

Sam stumbled away from the door, eyes desperately searching for lights. It could have been the exhaustion and defeat, or just a loose rock on the road that sent Sam tumbling to the ground. It wouldn’t matter either way.

“Help.”

No one was coming.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

It would catch up soon. It was probably already watching.

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

------

And so Sam found themselves at the table of a rickety old cottage. It was strangely warm despite the appearance that no one had been there in years. An elderly woman brought two cups of tea, passing one with a kind look in her ebony eyes.

“I was in a-an accident. A-and this, this thing started following me.” it was like everything hit all at once. The fear, the pain… relief. Someone saw them. “Nobody let me in. th-they just… sat there.”

The woman sighed. Dark eyes holding a trepidation and pain that seemed to be more than her own. “I’m afraid, the people here aren’t too... fond of strangers.”

“Even when lives are at risk?”

“Sometimes, people believe it best for them to keep to themselves. Best way to avoid a bad situation is to trust no one.”

Sam wondered if the woman knew about the contradictions of her words and actions. Something about the spark in her eyes made it seem like the answer was yes. “What if it comes after me still?”

“You’ll be safe so long as you aren’t afraid.” as the woman reached out to take Sam’s teacup, her sleeve pulled back to reveal rough scarring along the inside of her wrist.

The breath caught in Sam’s throat, “Afraid of what?”

“Whatever happens next.” the way she smiled was almost nostalgic. But as quickly as the flash of her scars, ebony eyes lit up. “Move along now, it’s time for bed.”

“I-i’m sorry, bed?” Sam was reminded of their own mother pushing them off to bed after a long drive. They allowed the elderly woman to lead the way to an old door. The wood looked like it had been pulled straight off the tree, chipped bark and all.

“You’ve had a long day.” the elderly woman gestured to the old door. “Rest.”

Sam met her kind ebony eyes with furrowed brows. Something about the way she said it felt so… final. Like the woman was saying it was okay. Nonetheless, Sam allowed themselves to be pushed through the door. They were given one final kind smile before the door closed.

Rest.

Sam spun away from the door to find themselves back in the forest. The wreckage steaming as metal hissed in protest. Fighting to stay alive despite the damage.

Sam approached eyes trailing over the glass, scattered outward like tears. The seatbelt hung loose, removed in an attempt to grab a fallen phone. But what really drew Sam’s attention was the blood. Speckles of red that stood out amongst the silver and black. Splattering a trail from dashboard to headlights.

The first drop trailed over Sam’s cheek. Reaching a hand up to touch the warm liquid, they noticed the scratches. Cutting through the thin shirt to open skin. Sam was covered in dirt, and glass… and blood. Sticky red dots to match the liquid running down Sam’s nose.

Sam turned around and there they stood. The shadowy figure blocking the ground Sam had been thrown into. It was watching...waiting for Sam to accept its hand.

Beep…

The hand emerged from the wisps of darkness palm up to reveal rough scarring along the wrist.

Beep…

Don’t be afraid of what comes next.

Beep.

And Sam realized, reaching out to take her hand… they weren’t. Sam looked forward to meet ebony eyes.

Rest.

#i wrote a thing #lowkey proud of myself #gender neutral mc #angst??#death #character death implied #horror inspired genre #oh dear death im embarrassed #pls dont mind me #am shy #baby bro should worship me for doing his homework #istg this dumb ho passed thanks to me #don't kill me

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lladmie · 5 years

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Auberon's death: canon!lore speculations

I was reading for the umpteenth time the Aen Elle chapter in the book "The Lady of the Lake", and something started to caught my attention...

The short sub-story of the Aen Elle is the most unsolved one. A lot of questions and mysteries still hang in the air. The death of Auberon, for example, the old king of the Aen Elle. It was retconed in the games, that made us believe Eredin was without a doubt the cold killer, but in the book... it's way more shady than that. I have a few hypothesis and I want to start with the one I find the most plausible right now.

Auberon killed himself

“Undoubtedly,” he began slowly, “you already know little enough about Auberon. You certainly already noticed that he is ambitious. There are things that he’ll never accept, never take note of. He’d rather die.”

Let's start here. This was the first alarm, and the first suggestion. It's a very important line: Eredin here is basically saying that Auberon won’t accept that he is unable to impregnate Ciri, and that he actually thinks that dying is better than a total failure.

It was Ciri who assumed immediately that the bottle was poison and later that Eredin killed Auberon. But Ciri didn't trust Eredin at all, we can even say she had real prejudices toward him for a whole lot of reasons I won't analyze in this post. But she didn't trust him, didn't like the way he acted, and her little childish infatuation made her think (and even hope deep down) that he was going to abuse her soon. That maybe he wanted to replace Auberon. And shit, it's so funny to think that she was so afraid about Eredin's intentions and at the same time asked Avallac'h to impregnate her without concern and he was the one who almost chocked her. Eredin would have probably laugh lol

Interesting to notice that, to that point onward, Auberon started to act with more and more impatience and rage. He was trying everything to have sex with Ciri: porn, drugs... and nothing worked.

“Despite all,” spoke the king, “I resent dying, Zireael. And I find it terribly sad that it has to happen. Who would have thought. I thought that I would have no regrets. I have lived a long life, I have known everything. I’m bored of it all… However, now I feel regret.”

Auberon was calm, controlled. He wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t acting as if someone killed him. He admitted that he was bored of living and thought that he would have died without regrets. Without being sad. He didn’t expect that he would have felt resentment toward his own death. Honestly, this makes me think of a suicide.

“He overdosed on the stimulant you gave him. Or was it meant to do something else entirely?” “What are you talking about?” “He’s dead.” He quickly shook off his surprise [...]

Eredin seemed genuinely surprised to learn about Auberon’s death. He was not faking it, there is no way.

Auberon, though, drank the potion. So how could it have killed him if the bottle wasn't poison to begin with? Was it another bottle? Seems too far-fetched. Of course, there is a possibility that it was just an incident. An overdose due to the fact that Auberon was using drugs and mixed them with it, or he was too old or too weak for a strong aphrodisiac. Or...

Eredin killed Auberon

Everyone, I think, has thought about this possibility, not only because the game went for this option or because Ciri herself wasn’t convinced of Eredin’s innocence (not even after his reaction), but because Eredin was the one with the bottle in hand and the entire dynamic seems a little... strange and secretive, to say at least.

He asked Ciri to follow him and talk with him in private. Then, he immediately framed the other elves as liars and deliberately told Ciri she won’t leave the planet—ever, not even if she does what she needs to, simply because they don’t want to let her go. But Eredin doesn’t want it either, only... we discover this much later.

He was saying Ciri’s situation was hopeless: they won’t let her go and Auberon didn’t even want to cooperate, because he’s ambitious. While Eredin didn’t care, didn’t think Ciri was important, and so he offered his help, another deal, this time with him. Assuring her that she will be victorious independently of what the bottle contains. But he didn’t clarify what it actually contained, didn’t even bother to explain, despite threatening Ciri about her assuptions. And why didn’t he say what the bottle contained and try to pass through Ciri and not Auberon directly?

Now, or Eredin is really naive to the point he’s easily misunderstood—something he doesn't give me the impression to be, because he even seemed to know she had a crush on him and was acting on it—and the scene was written in a weak and intentional deceitful way, or it's honestly stinky. Because a person who has nothing to hide won't talk like that.

All the dialogues can be read in a way or another. Auberon could be resentful that he's dying without having control over it. He's calm because he's an elf. Eredin could have been aware that Auberon wanted to die and took advantage of that, he was the one saying he'd rather die after all.

“We are going back, Zireael. Auberon is waiting. I assure you that tonight he will be lively and full of vigor.”

This little sentence could be innocent, simply an excuse to take Ciri back, but it could also be the proof that he actually gave the bottle to Auberon that very day. That he knew Auberon had it, but he clearly didn't know Ciri went to Auberon already. His surprise is very brief, though still a clear evidence of his innocence. But he didn't argue against it, it’s a simple and shallow reaction for something so important.

Eredin’s characterization is also very interesting. His nature is uncharacteristic for an elf. He’s the only elf in the bunch of the Aen Elle that was presented as impatient, for instance. His presence in the whole affair wasn’t so explicit and obvious as that of Auberon and Avallac’h, that are also personal involved. He was playing his own games, breaking useful lies and dealing with Ciri alone in his preferred style. Just an helper or something more?

The last possibility is that

Avallac'h killed Auberon instead

This is something I see some people enjoy to think because he's so foxy—to the point that everything could be his fault, he could be the mastermind behind the entire plot, basically, if we overthink it... well, he actually might be. Being the cunning and clever brain he is, Avallac’h’s probably the most dangerous of the Aen Elle. But this is a leap in the void. There is not even a single clue that make us assume it could be his doing. Probably the only suspicious sign is his disappearance; suspicious, sure, but it tells us everything and nothing at all (especially because he fought with Ciri the day before). Eredin comparing his new method to Avallac'h's—" Much more effective than the attractors Avallac'h's servants put in your cosmetics."—kind of contradict that he could possibly be involved, too. He didn’t even slightly suggest that his plan was Avallac’h’s or that he was acting on his instruction. Together with the fact that Avallac'h seemed to believe Auberon should absolutely be the father of the child (so much that he snapped at the thought that Ciri could say something in front of the king that she shouldn't say) make it seems unlikely. But well, he is a suspicious candidate nonetheless.

Everything is possible. Thanks for reading! If you notice some differences in the dialogues, that’s because I tried to translate the majority of them from the italian version.

#eredin breacc glas #auberon muircetach #avallac'h #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #aen elle #wild hunt #red riders #the lady of the lake #witcher #the witcher #andrzej sapkowski

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ninjagoruinedmylife · 5 years

Text

Like a Magic - Ninjago OC Shipping Week Day Four

@ninjagoocshippingweek

Aaaand hello there it is mine turn again!! As some of you may know, i have waaaay too many aus, so this day was a must for me from the moment i read the prompt-

Have some rustshipping (aka my daughter Ange and @clumsinessinperson son Nozomi) in my old as heck shadowhunters au that got ressurected just for this occassion! Enjoy *dabs away into the void*

***

It turned out that American vampires really were different.

Ange put the hood on her head and then hid her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket before crossing the street. She looked up at the old, nearly collapsing warehouse in front of her. For most people, it was as dead as it should be, but not for her; the pulsing colors in the windows and muffled noise of music and hundreds of voices proved to her that after some struggles she reached the right point.

She looked around nervously and bit her lip when she didn't notice any familiar figure. She was in the settled place, on the settled time, then why...?

She let out a relieved sigh when she saw someone walk slowly towards the entrace of the warehouse. She ran in the same direction and quickly got close enough to approach them.

"Feeling mundane today, huh?" She grinned at Nozomi's suprised face as he turned at her. She already got so used to his red, glowing, cat-like eyes, that it felt weird to see them under the camouflage - plain and brown. Still pretty, though.

At this moment, the slight feeling of stress came back, but this one was different. She realised that's because she had no idea how to act around him after she confessed. He technically gave her an answer - well, he kissed her - but they hadn't seen each other or talked in person from that day. Texting was different, it helped her pretend that she's totally cool with this situation, even though in reality she got lost. Were they friends? Dating? If so, shouldn't they go on a date? All those thoughts gave her headaches.

"I hope I'm looking mundane too," he mumbled, smoothing the beanie that helped him hide his horns.

"Don't worry, you look very much like one," she assured him quickly. "Now let's just act casual and we should be alright."

"As casual as one can be on a party hosted by vampires," Nozomi snorted and opened the heavy, rusted doors.

The smell of sweat and blood was the first thing Ange noticed as she walked in. The whole giant room was crowded by dancing people of all ages and looks; it was nearly impossible to get through them. The sounds all melted into one, tuneless melody. She looked behind her at Nozomi - he seemed completly lost and utterly confused. When they closed stares he quickly grabbed her hand. He probably did it only not to get lost, but Ange couldn't help but blush a bit.

She led him upstairs, on the balcony surrounding the storage, and managed to find two free seats next to a bar. A tall vampire with tired expression was taking care of other guests, so he didn't notice them yet. Ange didn't mind; it gave them the opportunity to discuss a plan once more. She turned around on her seat and after a few seconds Nozomi did the same.

"Alright, from up here we have a good view for the whole place. Once we spot Brad and possibly Harumi, we have to get to them as quickly as possible. I pick up Brad and you teleport us out of there. I really hope Skylor showed you that spell because otherwise I'm gonna be so fucking mad at her-"

"She did, no worries." he gazed at the floor and sighed deeply. "I just hope I get it right, because otherwise you'll probably be fucking mad at me..."

"I won't! If the magic fails us I'll just slaughter Harumi and we have one problem less."

Nozomi laughed, and suddenly all the tension left Ange. She still didn't know what they were, but at least it was clear that he was still as comfortable around her as before the kiss.

"But what then? We just run?"

"As fast as we can."

Ange noticed a move behind her; a bartender finally saw them and immediately served them two sparkling drinks. Nozomi raised his glass and looked at it suspiciously.

"I have no idea why, but it smells... weird." He whispered and raised his eyebrow. "A bit like one of Mystake's calming drinks."

"That's because they probably added some magical powder to the alcohol," she said. "I don't know how they work on warlocks since you guys usually sense the magic quickly, but I would not recommend drinking it. I've seen a mundane boy change into a rat after one. Vampires had hell of a fun watching him run around the room."

"Really? What happened to him later?"

"The powder stops working after a few hours, so he probably woke up confused in some trash." She shrugged. "Worse things could've happened to him after being literally drugged with magic."

"And how do you know so much about all that stuff, huh?" He leaned on the counter and sent her a questioning look.

"I've been here and there," she smirked. "I like to keep in touch with the Underworlders back home. They're often more human than some of the shadowhunters I know. Though I'm used to more... fancy events hosted by vampires."

"Shit, I have no idea how to act here... Honestly I would completly screw up everything if the party was 'fancy'..."

She hesistantly reached out to his hand and squished it.

"You're doing great so far, really. The most important thing is to blend into the crowd, and..."

She squinted over his shoulder and noticed a strangely familiar looking man, with dead pale skin, shallow dark eyes and messy white hair. After a few seconds Ange recognised him - Luke Cunningham, one of Harumi's human slaves, the one who delievered the message about Brad being held hostage to the Institute. He was ordering a drink, but if he only turned around and noticed her, the whole mission would fail...

"Fuck," she mumbled. And, without much thinking, she grabbed Nozomi's face and kissed him.

He was too suprised to even do anything; Ange couldn't blame him for that. Then, he leaned closer, wrapped his arms around her, and, at first hesistantly, kissed her back. She felt dizzy and warm at the same time - no magic could provide her such a weirdly comforting experience. All the noise around her became distant, the whole world became distant, the mission...

Right. The mission. She slowly pulled away and took a deep breath to calm down, only to look into Nozomi's sparkling eyes and feel her heart racing again. She just hoped that in the dark room he won't notice her face turning fully red.

"Sorry, there was... I saw a guy, he's with Harumi and I thought... I think he might remember me, because he was the one who told us, and I panicked really badly, and..." Ange blurted out all at once, and even though she probably made no sense, Nozomi still looked at her in awe.

"Well," he said after a minute or two, tilting his head. "That was... a really nice result of panic."

Ange laughed, with both nervousness and relief. She stopped once she, yet again, noticed Luke as he was walking towards stairs. She quickly stood up and and dragged Nozomi with her in the same direction.

"He holds two drinks, so he's probably bringing one to Harumi," she explained, still running short on breath. "Try to focus, okay?"

"Fuck, that will be hard now," she managed to hear him despite the loud music.

She couldn't help but smile.

#ninjago #ninjagoocshippingweek #rustshipping #ange ferreira #nozomi oka #ninjago fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #ehehehehe #it was a pain to write

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mogamifucker666 · 7 years

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cabana au plot thing maybe. i can’t write so.. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

premise: Mogami is an assassin/hitman, working at a tropical resort for cover. his mom is sick. he works with SG guy (Sargent) as assassins but also at the same tropical resort place. Matsuo is a rich gold digger, killed his last husband but was judged innocent in the trial. now he’s looking for thrills, doesn’t desire more money, just trying to have a good time. which for him means.. causing choas.

(this post is so long and dumb and gay i am so sorry for anyone on tumblr mobile RIP)

(edit: it’s even longer now and i tried to fix the typos from before. i hate how invested i am in this AU and yet i cannot stop.)

Matsuo comes to this resort regularly and the staff are Wary and particular about the staff they (somewhat) sacrifice to Matsuo. but Matsuo has MAD CA$H so they assign him like.. a personal attendant of sorts.

Mogami was hired between the last visit and this one, has been working there a lil while (some months but less than a year), Sargent is part of the resort’s management and works to cover for Mogam to give him alibis while he’s off killing ppl Just In Case

Mogami probably has an alias that he uses for like everything and that’s “Kai” bc he works by the ocean lmao.

I guess Mogami works around the pool and beach? waiter/bartender type thing. trained as a lifeguard so he does that too.

Anyhow he gets assigned to Matsuo, is aware that Matsuo’s was on trial for the murder of his husband but wasn’t convicted, but doesn’t really know what to expect. definitely not the chaotic twinky gremlin that Matsuo is in this AU.

Possible first interaction: Mogami is just trying to serve some drinks and Matsuo intercepts him and he's like "can i help you.....uhm........?" (can't figure out Matsuo's gender)

Matsuo, "that would be sir, thank you. but in a different context you can call me baby." Mogam is internally like o no-- Matsuo, not missing a beat, "and i can call you daddy." and Mogami is like. CRIngiNG he's like this is it, this is the curse brought on by killing people, the bad luck has finally caught up with me-- etc

Matsuo has a thing about paying ppl with Mogami’s job 4 sex/seducing them

Mogam is not about it

Matsuo won’t ease up

Anyway. things r tense and assassin stuff is more difficult bc of dealing with being Matsuo’s attendant. but there r days when Mogam isn’t working, where he has leave to “see his mom” which are often used for assassin stuff but. sometimes seeing mom. sometimes both.

Mogam still maintains his cool and indifference to Matsuo’s attempted advances

it’d be ridiculous if Matsuo very obviously fakes drowning. standing in shallow water (literally standing) and just flinging water around and looking like a fool, calling out “help me lifeguard! im Drowning! oh the humanity! i am struggling to breathe oh lifeguard please help me!” mostly bothering the other people around so Mogami feels compelled to usher him away but Mogami does Not lol and Matsuo just looks like a desperate fool.

maybe he actually pretends to drown

“i think i need cpr”

“i’ll just call an ambulance for you”

“come ON” as Mogami gets up and Leaves

Matsuo: >;;;;^( Mogami: B^|

Matsuo prObably goes for some other poolboys in the meantime. partly for attention, partly because it’s what he does.

Matsuo insists that Mogami has a secret (and he does) but Mogam denies that he has any secret of interest to Matsuo

somehow Matsuo finds out about his mom tho and Mogam is like “ah yes. my dark secret. i am indeed secretly tender at heart and love my mother very much. u got me.” but like. no it’s that he’s killing people. But there is some bonding and more respect from Matsuo. some but not much.

the Advances continue tho Matsuo is like still like “if u need money then sleep with me??”. Mogam is like. No.

also, at some point, Mogami to Matsuo “has anything bad happened to you at all in your life?” (bad things have happened but it’s been a While and Matsuo is hella detached from that)

Matsuo is legit like. lowkey a psychopath probably and breaks into Mogam’s (place of residence) (apartment proabably?) and Mogam gets back from a nearby “job” (shady bloody job) and Matsuo sees him (Matsuo wasn’t hiding lol) and Mogam Very Clearly bloody (under the shirt he was wear and since removed bc he’s home now) and is internally like “i’m not prepared to deal with this. this is over my head, the disappearance would go noticed, and would obviously connect to me... i’ll call Sargent. i probably have to kill him, such a hassle.. could be the end of things. what i thoughtless greedy awful--”

i drew it:

(evil gremlin pixie gets gay while dead-inside man contemplates the logistics of murder and disposing the body)

he glances down and Matsuo is like... sparkly heart emojis looking at the blood on Mogami and. Mogam is CONFUSED hE’s like “What.. are you doing looking like that?????”

(the blood drawn on his face/hand doesn’t make sense now that ive thought about it but. i can’t be bothered now.)

(my fave Mogami reaction to Matsuo is “bitch what the fuck” honestly)

Matsuo is rlly hot about the blood i but Mogam is just tired of this he’s like. resigned and kind of given up and legit just “I’m going to take a shower”

“can i come with u? ::::3c”

“you can do whatever you want” (figures Matsuo will follow him but doesn’t care if Matsuo leaves and tells the police he’s just tired rn)

Matsuo does follow him (he’s got his Eyes on the Prize)(the “prize” has gotten more and more interesting and enticing as time went by and now he is enthralled. Matsuo is chaotic and freaky and i love him. kinky(TM))

Mogam is trying to ignore Matsuo in the shower but eventually just Gives Up and like yeah wow sex huh

it is. a lot more good than Mogam anticipated and Matsuo is very :^)))))) after (satisfied and “i told u so” and still sneaky but also. more solidly attached now)(Mogam is endearingly passionate and it’s hot i guess idk don’t look at me)

Matsuo is probably the only (alive) person besides Sargent who knows he’s killing people so like. that relieves tension and allows for more intimacy ok

(im gay don’t talk to me)

at some point after that Matsuo is like “you like killing people”

“no, it’s just a job”

except he does and something happening close to the time of the convo is like ‘wait yes i do enjoy it..’

At Some Point Matsuo gets a wound over his eye (so the scar matches canon lol), it’s somehow a result of hanging around Mogami

thanks @ Nick for this idea: maybe Matsuo gets kidnapped and Mogam has to go save him. Jokes on Mogami tho Matsuo knows how to use a gun and can handle i knife decently. basically Matsuo kills at least Some of his abductors, gets his face slashed, and escapes by the time Mogami arrives to save him.

probably a sobering experience for Matsuo like ‘o right actions have consequences that affect me. wow. strange.’

this isn’t a deterrent for him tho, he’s still having fun, but he’s gonna be less flippant and careless from then on.

idK eventually an agreement of commitment happens and like. Mogam quits and the resort and moved back with Matsuo to the US i guess and now he doesn’t have to worry about money for his mom’s care bc Matsuo is stacked.

so Matsuo has married twice and the latest one is dead but the other one (his first marriage) is to Toichiro.

Toichiro’s wife divorced him, he’s rich and is some important af person in a corporation idk, he and Matsuo r together for a while and then married briefly and then Matsuo divorces him and gets hella money (awful. cruel. rude boy. evil. i love it)

(their relationship was like. probably kind of sad bc Toichiro is pretending he’s not torn up abt his ex-wife and maybe Matsuo like?? wasn’t just being a gold digger and actually cared about him, but was constantly eclipsed by the ex-wife n got tired of it and once they were married he was pretty soon like “Okay. That’s That. Bye.” dark. idk Matsuo is an energetic and wild person and Toichiro is cold and dead inside and Matsuo probably brought a lot of like.. joy to his life, and he took that for granted n Matsuo left. bye bish.)(lmao i h8 angst i’m sad now)

the current dynamic between him and Toichiro is like.. whenever they see each other they just drag the shit out of each other and r snide and that’s their point of camaraderie but Matsuo rlly doesn’t care abt him and always rubs Toichiro’s unsatisified life in his face.

but Matsuo is with Mogami now and they’re back in the US (some big city, probably Los Angeles or NYC.. or both. Matsuo has an unnecessary excess of wealth he can have a house on both coasts) but they end up talking with Toichiro and so Toichiro and Matsuo r doing their nasty banter thing and Toichiro starts talking dirty and about stuff he and Matsuo did and Matsuo is kind of pissed and internally like ‘wow in front of my boyfriend?? i know i have no class either but xcuse u bitch :^)’ but. also talks abt the stuff he’s been doing with Mogami. meanwhile Mogami is just there SEETHING quietly, tensely but politely smiling, thinking 'the nerve of this awful man with ugly eyebrows. abhorrent.' Matsuo is keeping an eye on him as the tension is rising and eventually.. 'wow my murder bf is about to fight my ex and while that's Hot that's not a good idea---' so he he cuts the conversation off like "well, i know who i've chosen--" wraps arm around Mogami's waist "--have a good life pining for your ex-wife" and like. leaves. bye.

or “have fun trying to fill the void left my your ex-wife for as long as you live”

Matsuo’s second marriage is probably to Ishiguro and purely for the money. but Ishiguro is gross and old and Matsuo was tired of waiting for him to die and took matters into his own hands. and ended up with a lot of money and no jail time.

idk what else. vague ideas kind of like. Mogam has a day of and Sargent goes to visit momgami in the hospital as a way to cover for Mogami going to do a hit. or doing a hit for Mogam so he can visit his mom. tru friends.

the beginning aesthetic being like. tacky tropical beach and it changing into like. lavish but sleek spy-aesthetic by the end is funny to me. tropical pattern prints and speedos and petty drama and humar to dark clothes and a scar and like. weirdly devoted and sexy dynamic. silly to serious. hilariously bad rom com to.. rich murder gays (NBC Hannibal stole my aesthetic)

im starting to fall asleep but ya this au was originally 100% shitpost and yet here. i am. thinking about it seriously.

#entry #idea post #god awful but ineeded to write it down so i don't forgET anything relevant for draws #when will i finish writing my actual serious thoughts abt either of them/their relationship... smh

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phanarchy-blog · 7 years

Text

The End of All Things

Description: Phil has something to tell Dan- he’s getting married. How will Dan cope?

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2814

2019

“Dan, I need to talk to you,” Phil said solemnly. The tone in his voice surprised Dan, and if he were being quite honest, scared him.

“Can it wait until after we film PINOF 10?” Dan asked. He was hesitant to have the conversation, whatever it may be. Phil considered his request briefly.

“Yeah, I suppose it could. It may be better this way,” he responded. It was ambiguous, and vague, and it was the worst sort of tease. The kind where you knew it was bad, but you had to know now, or the anxious curiosity would burn at your throat until you found out.

“Well, nevermind,” Dan said. “Now I need to hear it. Shoot.” He braced himself as Phil sat on the sofa, angling himself towards Dan.

“So, you know how I turned 32 this year, and how we’ve been doing this for 10 years now, and we’ve been so caught up in each other and our channels and the tour, we’ve never really had time to date and stuff, right?” Phil was rambling, and Dan had no idea where it was headed.

“Uh huh, go on..”

“Dan, I joined a dating site.” Phil was nearly cringing in anticipation of Dan’s reaction. Dan just laughed.

“What, like you’re on Tinder now?” He chuckled, relief on his face. “I mean, may be a bit risky what with all the Phangirls, but you do you.” He turned away and stood to leave when Phil grabbed at his hand and kept him in place.

“No, it’s not like Tinder. Sit, please.” Phil now covered his face with his free hand, sliding it down while exhaling. He wondered the best way to explain. “It’s not really a normal dating site. It’s more like, a professional matchmaker. For people serious about meeting someone and getting married soon. Dan, they found someone for me.” The seriousness of the situation hit Dan again like a train.

“You’re, you’re getting married?” he asked.

“Probably, yeah. I haven’t met her in person yet, but we’ve chatted, and she’s really nice. I like her.”

“Phil, this sounds like an arranged marriage, doesn’t it? I mean,” panic was setting into his voice now. Panic and some other, undefined feeling that had his breathing shallow and his stomach in knots. “Phil, wouldn’t you rather marry someone you know? Someone you really enjoy spending time with? Someone you love?”

“Well, I sure as hell am not marrying you now, am I?” There was a bitterness to his voice that was entirely foreign to each of them, and their eyes welled as their throats closed.

Adding to all that, Dan was also confused. Why was he feeling so desperate? And what exactly was he desperate for? It’s not as if he and Phil had anything going on. They haven’t been the least bit romantic since- Well, since-

2009

The two had just finished shooting PINOF 1. Well, most of it. They were now laying on the floor next to Phil’s bed, after Phil pounced on Dan. Phil ran his hand through Dan’s thick hair, brushing it off of his face. He leaned down and smiled, that fuckboy smile that occasionally graced his videos and made Dan weak. Phil closed his eyes as he kissed Dan, breathing him in as deeply as possible, tongue gliding over his lips.

Dan pulled back though, as far as he could for someone whose head was against the floor. Phil stopped, looking into his eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“I just,” Dan started. “It’s just that I don’t think I’m ready for this. I like you, and you’re really turning me on right now..”

“But,” Phil interrupted.

“...but I’ve never felt like this about a guy, and I’m really confused.”

Phil sat upright, knowing that the moment was over. He faced away from Dan so he wouldn’t see the shine in his eyes, threatening to spill over and give him away.

“Phil, I think we should be friends until I figure myself out. Because you’re my best friend already and I really don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to lose you. Maybe that’s selfish, but-”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he said quickly. He cleared his throat. “And it doesn’t hurt that much, I’ll be fine. Friends first, right?” Phil smiled at him the best he could. Dan smiled back.

“Friends first.”

2019

“So, what’s her name again? I don’t want to mess it up and come off like a douche.”

“Dan, relax. Sarah will love you.”

He was meeting Phil’s- girlfriend? Betrothed? Fiancée? Ugh. He was meeting Sarah today. Phil had made it official, and now she wanted to meet his Best Man. Dan was honored, of course, to accept the position, but something about it still felt bitter-sweet.

He thought it must be the thought of Phil moving out, leaving Dan alone in the flat. They’d still be friends, no doubt. But Dan knew that Phil and Sarah would probably move to a house on the outskirts of London, and get a dog, and maybe have a baby, and he would be stuck alone. Yeah, that must be it. He feared the loneliness.

Yet, when Sarah entered Starbucks and Phil instantly got up to hug her hello, Dan felt that same undefined sting he felt the day Phil told him about her. His stomach was so tight and all he wanted to do was tear the two apart. He wanted to pull him away. Why?

“Dan, Sarah. Sarah, Dan,” Phil said, snapping Dan out of his day dream.

“It’s so great to meet you!” she said. “I’d say ‘finally’ but truth be told, it’s all happened so quickly!” She was sweet, and had the same innocent glow about her that attracted, no drew, rather, Dan to Phil. Dan reached out to shake her hand.

“It has, hasn’t it?” It came off more snarky than he meant it. Almost judgemental.

“Well, let’s have a seat, you both. Get chatting, I’ll order. Caramel machiatto for Dan, Sarah, what’s your drink?”

“I’ll have a cappuccino, thanks!” When Phil turned away, Sarah spoke to Dan. “Strange he knows your order, but not mine,” she laughed.

“Not really that strange,” Dan quipped. “We’ve been friends for ten years. Flatmates for seven. We know almost all there is to know about each other.”

Sarah leaned in, as if they were close friends, before asking, “Anything you should warn me about him then?” Her eyes sparkled and like that, she was easy to talk to, to be friends with. Sarah was lovely.

“Well, he steals cereal, so you’d better hide it if you want to know you’ll safely have yours in the morning,” he said. “Then again, you both will probably share cereal.”

Phil returned with the drinks and set them all down in front of each of them.

“Pleased to see you’re getting along,” Phil said.

“So, I guess we may as well get on with it and tell you the big news!” Sarah spoke for herself and Phil. It felt wrong to Dan.

“Big news?” he asked.

“We have a date picked out. December 28th!” A date. They had a date picked out. The pang that had been in his chest all morning intensified at the thought of Phil with her, deciding on a date for their wedding. Yet he had to stay cool.

“Next year? That sounds good.”

“No, this year. In 3 weeks,” Phil retorted. He looked at Dan seriously, assessing his reaction.

“3 weeks? Are you kidding me?” Suddenly the walls were closing in on him. His shallow breathing sped up and he thought he may vomit by the knot in his stomach, the pin pricks in his finger tips. He stood up, tugging at his collar in an attempt to let some of that damn sweat evaporate. “I need to go.” Phil stood up as well.

“Dan?”

“I’m sorry Phil, Sarah, I need to go, now.” And he bolted out the door, leaving the bell chiming behind him. He ran until he was out of breath, which in truth was not very long, given his history with exercise and his current state of mind. He sank to the pavement as the tears came, for the first time since he’d been told, he cried over Phil’s impending marriage. And now that it was happening, he wondered why he hadn’t cried sooner. Because now, he finally understood.

He loved him. He had always loved him. And now he was marrying someone else.

Two Weeks Until the Wedding

Dan entered the living room to find Phil scribbling in a journal, something he hadn’t done since that failed New Year’s Resolution of 2013.

“What’s that about?” Dan asked him.

“It’s something Sarah does and she told me I should try it. She says it’ll help me sort out my feelings since this is all happening so quickly.”

“Oh,” Dan replied. “Is it working?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he smiled at him softly, in a way that said I know this is hard, be patient, it’ll all work out.

Phil stood up and entered his bedroom, coming out soon after.

“I’m going to the shop. Want anything?”

“Nah, I’m set. Thanks, Phil.”

When the door shut behind him, the emptiness sank in. The flat was not the same without Phil’s shimmer and glow. The air left Dan’s chest and even though he was breathing, it still felt like he was suffocating. Then he thought of the journal, hiding all of Phil’s thoughts on the matter, lurking not 10 meters away from him. He knew he shouldn’t, but a strange void had overtaken him lately and Dan would do anything in his power to end this. He had felt like this before, but not since September, 2009.

He entered Phil’s room, nearly floating, and checked the most obvious place he could think of, Phil’s bedside table drawer. And the journal was in there, of course, since Phil wouldn’t hide it. He was so trusting. Dan flipped through the pages quickly, unsure what he was looking for until he caught a glance of his own name.

Dan is taking it pretty hard, I think. He tries to be positive in front of me, and in front of Sarah, but I can see it in his eyes, even when he smiles and laughs. And if that doesn’t give it away there’s the fact that he literally ran out of Starbucks when we told him when we were getting married.

Wow, I’m getting married to Sarah. It’s so strange how your whole future can change in an instant. There was a time, and it didn’t seem too long ago, that I thought I wouldn’t marry anyone if it wasn’t Dan.

Dan froze, re-reading the line a full six times before he was certain he interpreted it correctly. Phil had wanted to marry him. Or at least, didn’t want to marry anyone else. But, it was all in past tense. He continued-

Of course, Dan has never felt that way and that’s fine, because I have Sarah now. And she’s really amazing. I never thought I could feel excited to get to know someone again. It’s like, well, it’s like falling in love.

Dan snapped the journal shut and the icy, heavy feeling returned to his heart. He nearly threw it back in the drawer when he saw a tiny velvet box. He knew what this meant, it would be a wedding band. Part of him ached at the thought that he hadn’t seen it before. That Phil wouldn’t have shown him the ring he got for Sarah. But maybe he was doing his best not to rub it in his face. Dan shouldn’t have looked.

But inside the tiny box was a silver ring. It had a thick band, and a small black stone in it. It was a men’s ring, must be Phil’s. And it was beautiful. Not really Phil’s style, Dan thought, but then again, how would Sarah even know?

Dan returned to the living room just in time for Phil to come around the corner.

“Malteasers?” Phil said as he tossed the bag in Dan’s lap. Dan sniffed back his tears before answering.

“Thank you.”

One Week Until the Wedding

Dan was walking through the kitchen when the thought occurred to him. It was so sudden, out of the blue. And then he was acting on it, and he hadn’t thought it through at all, really. He just knew it was what he wanted and he was about 99% sure Phil wouldn’t really mind so he went with it.

He stepped up to Phil, who was sitting on the sofa, laptop in lap, mug of coffee in hand. Dan took the mug from him and set it on the table wordlessly.

“Dan?” Phil asked. Dan slid his laptop off his lap and onto the sofa beside him. He grabbed Phil by the hands and stood him up.

Phil looked at him quizzically. Then Dan leaned into him, his face embarrassingly close. He waited a moment, and Phil did not pull back. The heat of his breath so near to him, Dan closed the gap and pressed his lips to Phil’s. In an instant, they were kissing. Phil was kissing him back and Dan wrapped his arm around his waist, curled his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Phil grabbed him by the hips gently.

Dan separated them when he felt his jeans getting tighter around his groin. Best to avoid that embarrassment.

“What was that?” Phil asked.

“I just,” Dan hadn’t even thought about how he’d explain it afterwards. “I just wanted to do that. You know, once. If it’s my last chance.”

Their breathing was shallow again, but filled with a new kind of anticipation.

“If it’s your last chance?” Phil repeated.

“Well, not like I can stop the wedding,” Dan replied.

“You can’t stop the wedding?” Phil was confused, and his words weren’t making sense. To him or to Dan. Rather than fight him on it, Dan just nodded and left the room. He wanted to leave the kiss exactly how it was, untainted by explanations of feelings and worries about what is to come. He had kissed Phil for the second, and last, time.

December 28th, 2019

“Phil, I’ve been working on something I want to show you.”

“Dan, what is it? You’re gonna make me late to my own wedding,” he chided, knowing that procrastination and tardiness was an ongoing joke between them.

“You’ll like this, I swear. And I made sure you have time. We’re already dressed and everything.”

Just come in here, he gestured towards his bedroom. Phil entered and Dan followed behind him, sitting down at the piano.

“Aren’t surprise performances usually done at the reception?” Phil laughed.

“I thought you’d prefer this one be more private.”

Dan didn’t wait for his reaction before striking the first few chords. The melody was slow, and beautiful, and full of passion. Phil recognized the song, though he couldn’t identify it until Dan began to sing.

“Whether near or far, I am always yours. Any change in time, we are young again.”

Phil brought his hands to his mouth as Dan continued. His voice was not perfect, and slightly off-key, but his it was every bit as passionate as the piano.

“In these coming years, many things will change, but the way I feel, will remain the same.”

Phil began crying openly.

“Lay us down, we’re in love.” Dan choked up at that line, but he made it through. And as he finished the last notes and let them ring out, Phil grasped him around the neck from behind and sobbed into his neck. Dan stood to face him.

“It’s okay, Phil,” he said. “I just wanted you to know.” But Dan’s acceptance was met with a needy kiss from Phil. He twisted his fingers in Dan’s hair. Dan shuddered against him. It was unexpected and he was left with his confidence shaken. He was prepared to sing his song, make his piece, and let Phil go. But how could he let go of this? He wrapped his best friend, his love, in a tight hug and began crying again himself.

“Don’t go,” Dan said. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going,” Phil cried. “We’re in love.”

Thanks so much for anyone who reads, likes, or reblogs this! I don’t think it’s well-written but I worked really hard on it and I love the story line! Like this story? Read on to Part 2, When the Day Met the Night!

#phanfiction #phan #dan and phil

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sinandaporia-blog · 7 years

Text

Thoughts 9.1.2017

I do not know whether the feeling that lingers inside of me is loneliness or some strange sadness. I would think it easy to classify it, but before I think about said feeling I most intuitively know that I am lonely; only when I begin to merge language and that inexplicable movement of my soul do I find myself in the most limbic of quandaries.

I do not miss Minjung, but what I do miss, or what perhaps I most want now, or what I would like to distract me from the void, is her expressions of felicity to me, those images and gestures that instantiated herself in the universe of those who would commit beyond themselves for me. I think that it is such that finalizes me as ethically immoral -- sure, carnality isolates itself from God, as the other infelicities do, but I now realize even more fully that I was in love not with her but with the outlines of her movements, her personality. Her parting curse was a series of images that I cannot separate from the idea of love, a language through which I might comprehend what I may not have ever again. When I make love to another woman, will the memory of her body clinging to mine echo silently in the mutuality of our reverberations. Will I move differently.

But it is not love that I lack -- merely its semantics. Or perhaps I do. I think friendship would suffice. Or perhaps it doesn't. I know that when (if) I have one or the other or both I will always prefer to be alone. Perhaps I enjoy only the real possibility of such people, lover and friends. I have a nice family. They sleep early, however. My brother does not answer my calls. He is tired often, I think. What I would like is to speak with someone that does not already have the underlying obligation to listen. To have found someone in the great expanse of somewhere. Not anyone, though. I am a shallow beggar, but a miserable one.

School is sometimes difficult and some days that is all I think about. So do I about wealth. But most days I have requisite self-esteem, as well as a consistent optimism about my future. I know that I am intelligent (is that wrong?) and I know I have charm. But I do not let it show except to the closest people. I expect others to notice some special quality about me. It has worked out in the smallest settings where people are forced to notice the existence of others but in the situations in which people move by each other as inconsequentially as tectonic plates I am resigned to him, he, they, or perhaps pronouns do not even find me in the ephemeral records of memory.

I would like an older brother, at most two years older than I. I have not established myself as of yet to desire a younger brother. But in my idealism, he would take me out to meet girls. Or I would play football with him. Or drink. But I think a friend closer to my age would be better. I would like to, for once, feel that I am developing progressively in life and experiencing sensations through which another individual is attempting to shape themselves as well as I. I would like to sweat and play sports roughly with a friend. But I would not like an older sister. Or worse, a sister inferior in age. I always misconstrue female friendliness as a motion toward more intimate engagements.

I am the dash between Korean and American. The ethnic class to which I belong is a misnomer. The East and West negates each other in me, I am the force of repulsion that resounds between the two. I want to abandon my American. Every time I hear Korean being uttered my entire focus shifts itself to the direction of its sound. When I hear it outside my window I dash to it and look for its source in the central courtyard. If I cannot figure a body from whom I may hear that wondrous language I let it fill my ear canals greedily, I shiver in pathetic pleasure in imagining that I too could be one of them. But I am not. I have gone to a karoake bar with a Korean club and I have sat somberly looking at the prettier females while feeling, amid the endless cacaphony of inexhaustible drinking games and idle chatter, that I not am. So did I experience when that one night I heard a soft conversation between two males sharing smokes on a veranda on the far opposite side, and I lied in bed listening attentively like an anxious rat, and from their distance their sounds could not translate into intelligibility.

That it is excessively easy and natural that I can interact with those who speak English makes me hate myself. But that I can only have the idea of what I want to express in Korean and that I can only quiver my lips into dumb utterances of the wrong grammar and the inflection of one who has memorized the distinct sounds of ends and beginnings of expressions but has never learned to parrot them in their fullness makes me hate myself even more for approaching that intellectual project. I negate myself. I am the force of repulsion between the East and West. I hate Korean-Americans who cannot speak Korean, or do not know Korean culture. I hate them because they are me. English is the greatest power in the world. I owe my allegiance to American country. My fellow democrats. But my heart sings at a higher pitch at the Korean anthem. I have been to Korea once. That was the only time I had been mugged. The last images I have of that time include my uncle storming out with a newspaper rolled in his hand while I cried with blue eyes and wet my diaper; my very mature cousins dangling pieces of candy in front of my face, cooing; my brother giving me supposedly a very expensive toy (he had told me this when he discovered its mangled corpse in a neglected drawer much years later, when he lived with me) to appease my crying in a hotel. Oh, and when I went to my brother's home, and I sat on a bamboo covering while I made his frail dog dance on his hind legs and played with his RC car.

God, if I could wrap my arms around a girl and in the most juvenile manner rest my head on her soft chest! Many times I have diagnosed my fears and wants as Freudian. I do not have sexual thoughts about my mother, but I know I want the qualities of a mother in a girl. I would like to be both boy and man in her presence. When I am scared I would like to force her to say it will be okay. I cannot tell if I am progressive or aggressively traditional. I am more comfortable with talkative girls but my mother's accustomed lack of words makes me believe intuitively that silence is a canon of virtue in a wife. I would like a wife. Some permanence. A wife that would exchange sexual advances with me frequently without discussing it so as to have the impression of quiet sanctity. I would like so dearly to have someone pray fervently alongside me.

I feel as if in these fragments I have revealed nothing more than the conventional thoughts that torrent every young man that reads too many books or read books to escape into dreams. I have lied many times regarding why I like books. But the best books I have ever read has never implied some intellectual premeditation nor had really expressed a new philosophical value to be added to literature. I derive the same pleasure in books that same way anyone derives pleasure in a nice dream. I cannot say to you that I know how to read. Every time I read a drama I always miss the tropes. I am lost to their dramatic allures. My mind is weak to the movements that repeat themselves over and over in front of me. Books are a puzzle that I always miss. I am really quite dumb. I become lost in the multitude of tiny things that do not matter in the breadth of larger things. So is my approach to literature, if that is even an approach to literature. The best books that I have read have confined themselves to conventions. And I never expect them.

And so I would like to be famous, accomplished. So that people will notice me and hold me in awe. So that people will look at me in the street or will regard me in bowing reverence when I acknowledge them. So I can have the possibility of acknowledgment without ever entering into it. Though this will probably make me even more miserable, that people forever miss my mortality through the immortality of my achievements. Which is why I would like a wife instead, along with a few close friends. Though I will probably never end desiring something of a value of impossible height and depth. So instead I would like to die soon, and be with God. Though in front of God I will probably have to hold on with all my strength not to be obliterated by His overwhelming righteousness. You see, I have not prayed properly (that is, with tears of blood) for the repentance of my sin, which is that I have watched pornography and masturbated barely acknowledging the weight of my sins. So I would like to collapse into the sleep of Stephen right after the retreat next week, so that I am sure that I have been convicted, at least internally, of my reconciliation with God through Christ. But then again, after the retreat I will perhaps open these fragments and delete them in the fervor of a refreshed spirituality, and I will thereafter take extreme measures to stave off everything that threatens my sanctification. Which is why -- no, how -- I had broken up with Minjung. So sometimes I would simply like to become dust for worms and the earth and never be cognizant again. So that I would cease to know happiness to cease to know sadness, and vice versa. But the immeasurable fear of such a thing is what keeps me alive. Perhaps that is also the engine of my faith. No, not perhaps -- it is so. So lately the word aporia chants itself in my mind like a religious mantra: aporia, aporia, aporia. I am dancing the cosmic dance. Tomorrow will be better. I thank God for sleep.

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