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lilyharvord · 3 years

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Do you in red queen univeres is like harry potter. The silvers are like the pureblood family. Mare is a newblood like being a muggles born witch and Julian is more like Dumbledor or the Weasley what do you think?

I'm gonna say the universe itself does seem to lend itself to those categories! Or sub-catagories! It also very easily lends itself to a Hogwarts AU! PREPARE FOR AN AU UNDER THE READ MORE

I mean, Mare seeing her favorite big brother Shade receive a super pretty envelope from this strange school saying he is a wizard and is being offered a position in that school? Going to Diagon Alley with her family and Shade picking out a owl, and old faded robes cause he family really can't afford anything else. Then her hugging him tightly as he has one foot on this strange train and one foot on the strange platform that they had to run through a brick wall to get to?! Holding his hand through the window and running along side the train as he promises to write her every week before she runs out of platform and has to stop as the train pulls away and he is waving and smiling wildly at her. Her little hand slowly falling from her wave to be by her side and she wishes desperately to be on that train with him? ONLY TO RECEIVE HER VERY OWN PRETTY LETTER THE NEXT SUMMER? She gets to do the whole process! And she has all these fantasies about what it will be like based on the letters Shade sent her all last year. She wants an owl, or a salamander, or something like that. And she want to play the strange quidditch game he mentions. She wants to run up and down staircases that change. When she gets on the train with him, she practically pulling out of her mom's arms, and almost forgets to hug a very upset Gisa goodbye.

On the train, Shade tells her all the details, introduces her to his friends: ketha (a second year like him), Ada (a sixth year), and Farley (a second year that Mare is incredibly intimidated by until she sees Shade heart eyeing her every two seconds).

They tell her about the houses. Shade is more than proud to be sorted into Hufflepuff even though Farley teases him about it and Ada only smiles at the whole thing. But they all get quiet about Slytherin. It's not a house you want to be in, Shade says quietly. Mare doesn't quite understand. Cunning? what's so bad about being that? Smart and quick witted? Hell, there's nothing wrong with it.

Then she meets them. The Slytherins. And she sees why she shouldn't be a part of that House. But then she meets the strange, dark haired, blue eyed boy at the back of the group with her, who tries to sit in a boat alone until Mare clambers in behind him, cursing the fact that her socks got wet and they're going to be gross and her shoes will squelch while she walks. He seems a little uncomfortable around her big personality until she introduces herself, and he smiles and shakes her hand, quietly introducing himself as Maven. Nothing more. Mare doesn't mind, loads of people don't give their last names.

Then she's in the Great Hall, underneath the Sorting Hat, Shade smiling at her like a fiend from the Hufflepuff table while Maven is already sitting at the Slytherin one, slouched and looking just a bit upset. (It's not what you think y'all. it's because CAL's a Gryfindor, and their dad was too and he still wants to get his fathers love, and he pretty much just CEMENTED the fact that he won't get it now.) Mare sees him, and the Sorting Hat huffs and says, making friends already? Mare frowns and then thinks back it: he's lonely. And the hat laughs before saying: loyal then, hufflepuff might do you well. She makes a face and it laughs once again when she thinks: I can do better than that. And it seems to nod in understanding before standing upright and announcing SLYTHERIN. Maven sits up taller as Mare leaps down from the stool and runs to him with a big, shit eating grin on her face. Shade goes a little pale in the face but smiles at her nonetheless. It's his baby sister, and if she's happy, he is too.

She's very happy. Slytherin isn't all that bad. Maven's her friend and he's a very good one. He's smart as a tack, and knows all these neat tricks to get through work. But its when they go out to fly on the brooms where they differ finally. Maven is... not a fan of being off the ground. Mare... she could live up there. She tries to get him interested but he jut won't have it, preferring to bury his nose in books and study. (Mare wonders why he wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw like Ada, but she shrugs it off).

It's one day when they're all out walking and that girl Evangeline starts teasing some kid and throws his whatever in the air that things finally get interesting for Mare. In a very impressive showing of skill, she catches this tiny object while flying. IMMEDIATELY, the captain of the Slytherin team wants her as his Seeker. Its UNHEARD OF everyone argues. NO FIRST YEARS allowed! But it's vetoed, and Mare is allowed to play. Shade is more than proud, puffing out his chest, and forcing her to walk around with him so he can introduce her to his class and everyone as the youngest Seeker in years.

It's after she is sneaking out of the Gryffindor tower one night, having stayed to talk with Shade and Farley who is finally losing some of her Ice Queen exterior and even cracked a smile at one of Mare's jokes, that she almost gets in trouble. She is sprinting down the stairs of the tower when she runs smack into someone so they both end up tumbling down the stairs and hitting the back of the Fat Lady's portrait when they land. She stumbles over apologies, trying to grab her things in the dark (and pocketing one or two of his by accident), when she looks up. She's seen him before, she know she has, but can't remember from where. Plus, it's a little dark and she can't see him all that clearly. He's sitting there, tie undone, and shirt all messed up from falling, and rubbing the back of his head where it hit the back of the portrait when he looks at her. HE knows her. This the girl who is the youngest Seeker in years! They blink at each other, and she tries to take off, but he grabs her wrist, keeping ahold of her as he says: Thief! when he realizes she grabbed a few of his things. She looks down at the mess of things in her arms, and then frowns at him before saying, No! These are my things! he pulls out his wand and book from her hands and she's like: okay, well, those aren't mine, but whatever. And he smiles at her as he stands and she's suddenly craning her neck to look up at him, and LORD ABOVE what did he eat as a child?! She squints up at him, still trying to place him when he shifts his things to his other arm and holds out a hand for her to shake. She looks at it, and then takes it slowly. His grip is so warm and comforting, but not sweaty like some of the other boys her age. He shakes her hand and introduces himself as Cal, and THEN Mare knows who he is. This is Maven's brother. The older one, the perfect spitting image of his father who is the "Perfect Son." Maven always sneers just slightly when he says that, and now that she has met this Cal, she knows Maven is right. Turning up her nose at him, she spins on her heel and leaves, completely uninterested.

Okay she lied, she was a little more interested than she let on. She sees him EVERYWHERE after that. He raises his brows at her in the Great Hall, and even smiled and said good morning Mare when she walked by with Maven to Charms one day. After that day, Maven gets really sullen, and tells her that she shouldn't talk to him, that he's trouble. He's a third year, in line to be Prefect and Headboy at some point. She doesn't want to get mixed up with wet blanket like that. She agrees, but something about him, his eyes, the gentle smile, and way he'd looked at her the first time he saw her makes her heart do a little jig every time she thinks about him.

Before she knows it, its the first Quidditch match, and she's set to play. She steps out in her beautiful green and black uniform, and while she's in the tunnel adjusting the straps on her wrist guard with her teeth, someone laughs behind her and says: there is a better way to do that. She looks up, the laces half in her mouth, and a tiny bit of drool running down her chin to see Cal leaning against his broom. Of course he plays Quidditch, she thinks with a scowl. What perfect son wouldn't? He takes her wrist though and ties the guard gently, pulling the laces perfectly through the loops. Maven tried to help her with it this morning but gave up when he couldn't do it. Her face burns with embarrassment but he doesn't notice, or at least, he pretends not to notice. When he finished both wrist guards, he shoulders his broom and with a wink says, "eyes up and head up, dont want to take a Blunger to face on your first day." He strolls away after that, and Mare stands there, watching his shoulders as he leaves. How does a thirteen year old boy manage to look like that?! Shaking it off she steps on the pitch but... that's all she remembers. She takes a nasty blunger to side of the head and falls to the pitch floor. When she wakes up, the entire Slytherin team is around her and so is half the Gryfinddor team, Farley is grimacing as she takes in the situation, and Cal is leaning over her, shielding her from the son. She frowns up at him before saying, "you didn't say they moved that fast." He snorts to hide a laugh as the medics take her off the pitch. Good news? She learns later in the Infirmary, they won! When she went down, Cal, the Keeper moved as if to go to her and they were able to put the Quaffle in to get the final point! Her captain claps her on the back, and she tries not to puke when the movement jars her head.

The year ends uneventfully, and she waves goodbye to Maven as she disembarks and he leaves with Cal. A woman with matching icy blue eyes and stark, ash blonde hair frowns at her as Maven smiles and waves his own goodbye. She pointedly ignores Cal's title wave goodbye.

The next year is much of the same but there is a... current in the air, a charge that wasn't there before. Something is happening, something dark in the world. Shade and Farley go to Hogsmead and talk about it, but Mare can't go yet. She sits in a hidden alcove of the Astronomy tower, watching the world outside with her books open before her. Maven is quieter this year, but there is a strange new confidence and glint in his eye. It worries her. He is not the boy she waved goodbye to at the beginning of the summer.

One day while studying, she hears footsteps and looks up to see Cal pausing along side her. Her stomach flip flops when she sees him. The summer did wonders for him. Somehow, he is more attractive. She didn't even realize that was possible. And she REFUSED to admit that she thought about him a few times... well more than a few times... over the break. He smiles at her and before she knows it, she's leaning toward him to talk. She asks why he's not at Hogsmead and he grimaces before saying he is struggling with Diviniation and has to take an extra class on it every week. She laughs, and the smile he gives her when she does laugh turns her stomach to molten lava. He helps her out of the windowsill and they walk to the Great Hall together. Maven intercepts them before then, his eyes narrowing and darkening when Cal waves goodbye and heads on his way. Mare nudges Maven with her shoulder and teases him saying: are you worried I might like him more than you? Maven glowers at her, and she softens before taking his hand and promising him that Cal is "a complete and utter moron, who she could never like." It seems to relax him, but not completely. Again, Mare worries. He was never concerned about Cal or any of this before.

The year works that way though. She slowly get closer to Cal. They have this strange unspoken agreement to meet at HER windowsill once a week and then walk along the ground by the lake. One day, in the winter, she forgets a thick enough coat, and is shivering in her sweater until he shrugs off his cloak and drapes it around her shoulders. She blinks in surprise, before smiling and thanking him. It's far too big on her and drags on the ground a bit, but its warm and it smells like him. Which she is terrified to realize she kind of likes.

She starts spending time in the Gryffindor tower too, getting closer with Shade's friends, and sometimes, Cal is there too. He's not really a staple (he and Farley don't really get along, something about her calling him a Pure Blooded Hypocrite), but Mare finds she likes when he is around.

That summer is terrible. Maven doesn't write her as much as he promised. And the world is getting Dark™️. There are strange disappearances on the TV. Things are getting weird. Shade gets secret letters from Farley that he hides from her. When they go back to Hogwarts, things are... different. There are guards, there weren't Guards before. Maven looks more gaunt and haunted. Even Cal doesn't seem as cheery anymore. They're walks around the lake go from once to twice to three times a week. He tells her about his side of the Wizarding World, and she learns about a group that is known as the Death Eaters (who serve a mysterious Dark One that wants to eliminate the muggle population and the mud bloods). Mare frowns when he says that word. He says it quietly, like its something bad. She's not sure why, it's a word. When she asks Farley about it, her friend's face hardens and she tells her it's a nasty term that Pure Bloods use to describe the people like them. The ones who come from non magic families.

She finds solace in Quidditch, she even goes out when Cal offers to show her a few tricks, and that time... it is strangely magical. She finally gets to go to Hogsmead, and spend time with Shade and Farley there. They have a new little group, a taller fifth year named Tristan is added, Ada is with them, Ketha, and a couple of others. Shade tells her to go off and find something to do one time and she ends up spying on them. When she does, she overhears them talking about the Dark One, that they are back and that is the reason so many Muggles are dying and disappearing strangely. That Hogwarts might not be safe anymore. She confronts Cal about it one day, and he stops dead in the snow, spins on her and says never to talk about it. That the Dark One is dead, has been dead for year and that she should never mention them. She is taken aback, he's never seemed so concerned to desperate before. So she drops it. But things get worse over christmas break.

When she returns, Maven is almost cold with her. She tries to tease him like she used to, but he just isn't having it. She clings tighter to him, worried that things are not going well at home. She knows his mother isn't great, knows his father is an asshole. She can't understand how two people like that managed to make someone like Maven, and someone like Cal. But she tries her best to be a friend for Maven. She can't help but get closer with Cal. Something about him draws her in, and keeps her.

One day at Hogsmead, she runs into him (literally, again). She slips on the ice and he catches her, his hands grabbing her hips and pulling her close so she has to grab the front of his coat and cloak to keep herself upright too. They look at each other for a long time, confused and full of butterflies before she spots Maven at the other end of the bridge. She was supposed to meet him at the sweet shop but was running late. His eyes narrow ever so slightly at what he sees, and Mare pulls away from Cal glaring at him and adjusting her hair when he blinks in confusion. She turns on her heel and leaves without a word, taking Maven's hand in her own as she passes him and dragging him along.

That summer, something changes fundamentally in the world. The world actually gets even Darker. Shade gets more worried, and Farley starts showing up at thier house. Mare know they are seeing each other. But she keeps it to herself. When they go back to Hogwarts... there are Guards on the train. She walks down the hallway and runs into Cal on his way to his compartment. The train rocks as she is trying to pass him and she ends up in his arms again. She's fifteen, and he's seventeen, old for a sixth year. But in his Prefect uniform, he looks quiet attractive, and somehow he got MORE attractive over the summer. The flutters that had once been nothing but tummy flutters when she was elven/twelve are now full blown butterflies in her stomach. She would never admit it, but she had a dream about him over the summer. About his hands on her hips and the stone wall of the Gryffindor common room rubbing against her back as she pinned her to it. She doesn't pull herself out of his arms right now though, there is something comforting about being in his embrace right now, when the world seems to slowly falling apart around them. He lets her go, a falsh of something in his eyes before he smiles at her and says, safe travels.

When they get to Hogwarts, she knows there is something wrong with Maven. He looks like a corpse, his eyes are dark and his features are sharper than usual. She tries to get him to smile for her, but he can't seem to muster much. So one day, out of desperation, she kisses him. He melts finally, and she melts with him, burning like Icarus when he got to close to the sun. They become... a thing for lack of a better term. He clings tightly to her, pulls her away from Farley and Shade and her friends, pointedly makes sure she doesn't spend time with Cal to the point where he actually seeks her out one day, and Maven jeers at him until he leaves. It scares her, he was never hostile, never a person like this. When she talks to him about it, he raves about things she doesn't understand. An In fact, he seems almost angry with her. She can't understand, she tries to get it out of him halfway through the fall, and he turns around and calls her a nasty Mudblood, jeering at her about the fact that is lucky he even considers her a friend. It breaks her heart, shatters it into a thousand pieces. She didn't kiss him just because it might make him feel better. She kissed him because she wanted to, because she thought it felt right (she also did it because a secret part of her hoped that kissing him would make the dreams about Cal stop.)

She stops hanging around him, the other kids like him and the other Slytherins embrace him instead, folding him into their group, while she starts to gravitate to Shade and Farley again.

they go home for Christmas, and the world tilts completely on its access. There is horrible accident that kills a number of families, and Shade immediately packs a backpack that night to go see Farley. Mare forces him to take her with him. When they get to Farley's, everyone is there, all the people Shade has been friends with. She learns they are forming a group, the Scarlet Guard, to defend themselves. The Dark One is coming back, and they will be ready.

When they return in the spring, the teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts does not prepare them right. Mare feels like a child being handed a pair of children scissors to solve a grown up problem. She talks to Shade about it, and the group agrees. They need training. It's then that Mare does what cements her fate with Maven. She seeks out Cal. He is not looking too great either, there is something haunting his face and when she finally walks up to him one morning on the lawn near the lake, he looks at her suspiciously. She doesn't know why but she ends up curled against his side, sobbing. He's taken aback at first, and then soften, wrapping an arm around her while she tells him everything. With a tight jaw, and a nod, he agrees to help them training.

They form a secret group, and they start training. It's then that Mare starts to realize that perhaps she likes Cal more than she lets on. he's a good teacher, a very good one, and whenever he holds her hand and guides her wrist through a complex spell movement, she feels her face heat up. He's a sixth year, seventeen and on the cusp of greatness it seems. His OWLs were outstanding, he is set on the path she knows he wants. They train together privately. On a nondescript day like any other, she stays after to talk to him, and when she does, he kisses her. It turns her into a pool of liquid mercury, and when he breaks it off and gently caresses her cheek with his thumb she knows she is doomed.

They leave for the summer, and she writes him daily. He writes back, telling her about things happening at home. There are issues, his father is stressed, his step mother is being cagey, and Maven... he's not himself. She worries, Shade is a sixth year and she's just a fifth year, but the world feels like it is resting on their shoulders.

When they come back to school in the fall, Maven confronts her. He found the letters she wrote to Cal. He accuses her of a number of things she is horrified by. Cal steps in to push him back, and in a horrible moment, Maven draws his wand and puts to Cal's throat. The brothers stand like that for a moment, and Mare with her hand on her wand fears who she will have to point her own wand at. But Maven drops the wand, and that is that when he storms off.

The Scarlet Guard grows in number. And then it happens right before they leave for Winter Break. The earth shattering, horrible truth. The Dark One returns, and no where is safe. Hogwarts is under attack before anyone knows what is happening. Mare is fighting through the halls, throwing out hexes and charms she never thought she would have to use. She battles her way to Cal, who takes her hand and pulls her close. The Aurors arrive but they are not enough. Shade, Farley, Mare and Cal storm the upper tower. Cal makes them stay below in the hidden crawl space because Maven is up there and he can hear his father. When he gets up there, it is not what he thinks. Mare and Farley and Shade watch from below in horror as Elara uses the Imperius Curse to actually turn Cal on his father so he kills him. When that happens, the truth is revealed. Elara is the Dark One, or the new chosen Dark One among the Death Eaters. Mare storms up the steps before Elara can kill Cal, using the one spell she knows might end the duel. But Maven steps in and they end up dueling. With tears steaming down her cheeks, she tries to fight him off. But he is not fighting to stun her, he is fighting to kill her, to put her out of commission. She is disarmed, and in a horrible moment, thinks he will kill her. Elara is cooing at him to do it, to punish her for loving his brother instead of him. She pleads with him silently, begging him with her eyes not to. His lips twist as he struggles with the decision. It's too long, Shade and Farley get up the steps and force Elara and Maven to appirate away.

The world cracks open like an egg as war spills out after that.

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS LONG. ANYWAY, ENJOY EVERYONE. I'm not going back and rereading this so whatever you see is what you get XD

#(*ask lily*)#(*shut up lily*)#red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #oh no...I smell another fic #Hogwarts AU #lord have mercy #'she would be a THICCCCC fic #plus I'd have to do some Harry Potter rereading to freshen up my memory on things like spells etc.#my writing #my fanfics #my headcanons

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monicashipslokius · 3 years

Text

Soulmates, Actually Pt 4

(read part 1/part 2/part 3)

A sharp, shrill alarm blares before the sun has even risen, rousing Loki from a perfect slumber. Loki groans their disgust, but it’s muffled in the meat of Mobius’s shoulder.

“Easy, sunshine,” Mobius says, and the infernal man is actually trying to move.

Loki grumbles louder. Mobius, chuckling, eases Loki away from him and onto the pillow instead. It’s not the same - too soft and not nearly warm enough. Loki clings tighter around Mobius’s waist in retaliation.

“We talked about this,” Mobius says. “I have to go back to work today.”

Loki huffs in frustration as they let Mobius remove their hold and lower their arms to the bed. The pillow is a poor replacement.

For a moment, Mobius brushes Loki’s hair back away from their face. His fingers linger, feather-light, at the edge of Loki’s cheekbone. Too soon, the touch is gone.

“I’ll be back at six pm sharp.”

Loki rolls onto Mobius’s side of the bed and falls asleep again.

When they awaken, the sun is bright and the sheets are cool. Loki’s stomach rumbles. They groan as they pull themself out of bed and finally face the day.

The long, lonely day.

A week has passed since Thor’s departure - a week of Loki and Mobius redecorating and cuddling and learning each other.

They bought six plants of varying sizes, new drapes the color of the ocean, and a soft bedspread to match. Mobius fixed up the broken bathroom door, and Loki hung a few new art pieces and string lights.

The La-Z-Boy they arranged in front of a small boxy television set became a fast favorite.

“What did I tell you?” Mobius said the first time Loki relaxed deeply into the recliner. “It’s the perfect throne.”

Mobius may not understand color palettes, but the man knows comfort.

“It will do for now,” Loki told him, not wanting to give too much away.

Mobius’s smile never wavered. “Mmhm.”

Now, Loki drags themself to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Ten minutes later, they are perched on the recliner, plate on their lap, watching soap operas on television.

Claudio is surprised to find that his fiance Regina’s twin sister Georgina has been behind all of his misfortune, but the plot twist has Loki rolling their eyes.

“Amateurs.” Loki bites into an apple slice.

The hours tick by. Loki watches the anchor-shaped clock that hangs in the kitchen - much of their new decor has an ocean theme. But the more Loki watches the clock, the slower time seems to pass.

Time flew by with Mobius here. But without him...

After the soap operas, the courtroom shows begin. And then the news programs. Loki walks laps around the apartment while listening to the weather forecast for the third time - partly cloudy with a 30% chance of rain. The cost of gasoline is skyrocketing. The local high school football team might make county finals, whatever that means.

At quarter to six, Loki thanks the cosmos. Finally. Mobius will be home and put an end to this monotony.

Loki cleans up a bit, dusting some crumbs off the arms of the recliner. They place the plates in the sink.

Then, because they don’t want to appear too eager, they grab a book and stretch out on the bed.

Six o’clock comes and goes. Mobius does not arrive.

By seven, Loki is annoyed.

By eight, they are angry.

By ten, they are concerned.

Dubuque seems relatively safe. And Mobius has lived here alone for a long time before Loki.

But Loki has enemies. Many, many enemies. All of whom would be more than happy to get their hands on their soulmate.

Mobius is probably fine.

But what if he’s not?

At eleven, they are examining the photo of his office building that Mobius keeps on the dresser. Mobius had taken them to see it in the past week, though they hadn’t gone inside. It wasn’t too far a walk, if they recall. Loki is certain that they could find it again, even in darkness.

So they change into a black suit and hurry out the door. The Dubuque city streets are barren this time of night. Loki encounters no one on their trek to the office - until they barge through the front door and are stopped by a security guard.

Loki promised Mobius that they would not hurt anyone, so instead they create a projection of themself to distract the guard while they themself head toward the elevators. Following the signs for the data analytics department, they ride the elevator to the fourth floor.

They step off the elevator into a darkened field of cubicles. Each is the same - small desk, computer, and chair. All are empty. But Loki isn’t alone here. They follow a light through the cubicle maze and come to one that is occupied.

Mobius has a foot-high pile of files on his desk. He’s tapping at his computer keyboard with the index finger of each hand and peering at the small monitor.

“Mobius?”

Mobius jumps, then clutches his chest. He exhales when he sees Loki standing in the opening of his 3ft x 4ft cell. “Give a guy a warning next time.” He smiles. “But it’s good to see you. How’d you get here? Security let you in?”

Loki only frowns at him. “You said you’d be back at six.”

Mobius’s smile loses some of its brightness. “I have to work a little late. Next time we go out, we’ll get you a phone so I can call and let you know -”

“’A little late?’ Mobius, it’s been hours. I thought you were...” They won’t give name to their truest fears. That Mobius had been kidnapped or killed. Or perhaps that he had finally seen the true darkness in Loki and left of his own free will.

Mobius shakes his head. “Come on, Loki. It hasn’t been that long. It’s only...” He glances at his monitor. “Midnight? That can’t be right.”

“I assure you that is accurate.”

Mobius sits back in his squeaking chair, and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry...” He releases a drawn out sigh and his whole body droops. “Boss was cheesed that I bailed on the conference. I have a lot of work to make up.”

The stack of folders towers over Mobius’s slouched shoulders.

“Would it helped if I -”

“You can’t kill him,” Mobius says.

Loki closes their mouth. Tries again. “He needn’t be killed. I could simply... frighten him.”

Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.

“Fine,” Loki says, disappointed. “But what is your intention? To stay here all night?”

Mobius side-eyes the folder mountain. “I’m going to have to.”

“No.”

Mobius sighs. “Loki -”

“This is a place of employment, Mobius, not a living space.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have come back sooner.” He rubs at the corner of one eye. “Maybe I should have stayed at the conference.”

The words stab Loki between the ribs.

“Magicking away was not my best idea,” Mobius says. “I shouldn’t have run from my responsibilities. I’ll never catch up on this work.”

More stabs, a thousand tiny cuts.

“So you regret everything,” Loki says, fighting hard to keep the hurt from their voice. They are disappointed by their own surprise, their own pain. They had thought Mobius was different. They should have known.

Thor was wrong when he said no one could hold Loki’s interest. It was the other way around. Loki protected themself by leaving before the other could get bored. They should have done that here.

But they thought...

Mobius is supposed to be their perfect match.

“No, hey,” Mobius jumps from his chair. That’s all it takes to put him in Loki’s space. Loki takes a step back. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t regret everything, just some things.”

“You regret coming with me when we escaped.”

“N-no,” he says, but not without hesitation.

“You could have stayed. They weren’t chasing you. You could have told them I brainwashed you and gone on with your day.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The bags are heavy under Mobius’s eyes. He’s tired, Loki knows that - but Loki’s tired too. Sitting, waiting, stressing.

The room sparks with tension. Loki’s pain festers under their skin.

And Mobius regrets.

Loki takes a breath, searching for calm. For understanding. For their soulmate. “Come home,” they say, “And we can continue talking in the morning.”

Mobius exhales again, too sharp. He places his hands on his hips and looks at that damned pile of folders again. “I can’t go anywhere.”

“Mobius -”

“This is my life, Loki,” Mobius tells him. “Data analysis is my life. You have to understand that.”

Something dark in Loki’s chest snaps clean in half. “This is your life. This.” They wave a hand around. “This tiny box in a sea of tiny boxes. Where everyone else has left you here in the dark. Where your employer buries you under papers so deep that you cannot find your way out of them. Is all this extra work truly because you left the conference? How often would you work late before I arrived?”

Mobius looks away, and Loki knows they’re right. The answer, too often.

“Are you at least receiving additional benefits for all this extra time spent here?”

Mobius still won’t look at them.

“They are taking advantage of you, of your loyalty, and you are letting them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mobius snaps, the sharpest he’s ever spoken to Loki.

Loki stands taller. They’re used to anger, to cutting words, to pain - more than they were ever used to kindness.

“I am trying to protect you,” Loki says.

“I don’t need protection from my job.”

For one wild moment, Loki thinks of grabbing those folders and tossing them across the room. They dream of throwing Mobius over their shoulder and saving them from this drab place and its tan carpet and eggshell walls.

Instead, they insist, “No, you do. You owned three photos when I first met you: one of your parents, one of a jetski, and one of this office. Can you not see how depressing that is?”

Mobius face hardens.

“You are meant for better things than this. When was the last time you even rode a jetski? Or had fun of any kind?”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need fun.”

“That is absurd.”

Mobius’s brows draw together. “Listen, not all of us could be born into royalty, and just go around doing whatever we want all the time.”

Born into royalty. A fresh sting, not one Mobius could know would hit so hard. But it does all the same. Loki steps backward from the force of it.

Mobius unhooks his arms. “Loki -”

Loki shakes their head. Mobius watches them, confusion replacing frustration, followed quickly by concern. He lifts his hand, but Loki steps back again, further out of reach.

“It’s fine,” Loki says, lying. “Stay as long as you like.” They bury the pain down deep. It’s familiar, an old, hated friend. “I wouldn’t dare dream of treading on your unhappiness.”

Mobius drops his hand. “I am happy. I am perfectly happy.”

“Good,” Loki says.

“Great,” Mobius says.

“Wonderful.”

“Fantastic.”

They stare hard at each other. Loki refuses to look away first.

When Mobius finally does, turning back to his cubicle and his chair and the stack of folders, disappointment floods through Loki.

They don’t wait to be dismissed, they turn and leave on their own.

Loki does not return to the apartment. Instead, they walk and they walk and they walk. They almost hope to be accosted by vagrants, so as to release some restless energy in a fight, but they see no one. They reach a river and follow it into a forest.

They sit along the riverbank and watch the sunlight crest over the trees.

Maybe they shouldn’t have surrendered the scepter. With the tesseract, they could have traveled anywhere. Now they are limited to the distance of their own two legs. Not that they would know where to go anyway.

The only place they want to be is back at the apartment with Mobius.

It’s evening when they eventually make their way back there. Their stomach growls, and they’re thirsty and tired. With some food and a good night’s rest, perhaps they could leave again with a plan this time. Hire a taxi to an airport and take a plane. Find a city of decadence and lose themself for a few decades.

They don’t expect Mobius to be home. It’s only shortly after seven, far too early for his beloved late nights. Yet as they place the key into the lock and start to turn, they barely have time to remove it before being yanked forward into the apartment and into a crushing embrace.

“Don’t leave me,” Mobius says. His arms are sure around Loki’s waist. His nose is buried in the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. His words are muffled by Loki’s forest-dirty suit coat. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Not until you. And not without you.”

Loki sags into his arms, and he holds tighter, keeping Loki upright. Keeping them safe. They close their eyes and let the warmth of Mobius’s body chase away the chill of the Iowa evening air.

“You scared the hell outta me,” Mobius says, voice shaky. “I looked for you everywhere, but I kept checking here. I kept hoping you’d come back. I’m so sorry.” Mobius leans back. He reaches up and cups Loki’s face between his palms. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over Loki’s cheekbones. “I want to be good for you.”

“How could you think you’re not?”

Regret shines in Mobius’s eyes now, more than it ever did during their argument. “I hurt you. I don’t want to ever do that again.”

Loki places their hand over one of Mobius’s on their face. “I hurt you, too, I suspect.”

“No, everything you said was right.” He swallows. “Work’s all I had for so long, and when I was back there, and they started piling it on... Everyone else in that office has always had someone, so before I would take on the extra work myself. It was better than coming home alone. It’s a hard habit to break. Loki, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this.” But Loki still wants to hear it. Each of Mobius’s words are a balm over their pain. Mobius keeps going. He doesn’t even stop for breath.

“I lashed out at you, and I only did that because you were right. And I didn’t want to hear it. But then you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Loki says. “I’m here now.”

“I am a lousy soulmate.” Mobius smiles, but it’s too soft, too sad. “After so long alone, I don’t think that I know how to be with somebody. But I want to learn. I want to deserve this, with you.”

“Mobius,” Loki says, and their mending heart threatens to break again. “I am no great prize.”

Mobius starts to laugh. “I’m trying to be serious, Loki.”

“I am too,” Loki says, and whatever Mobius sees on their face stops the laughter. Loki studies the softness in Mobius’s gaze, the adoration, the great care, memorizing as much as they can, in case this is the last time they see it. “I’m a monster.”

Mobius, voice flat and unamused, says, “Be serious.”

“I was not born to royalty. Not like you think,” Loki says and waits. Dread rolls over them in waves, but Mobius does not react more than a slight cant of his head. “I’m not...” It would be easier to show him, but Loki can’t. If they do, Mobius will change all of his sweet words. He won’t stand to share this small apartment with them any longer, and Loki will be back on that riverside. “How you see me is not... how I am.”

Mobius is patient. Mobius waits. Maybe Loki wasn’t wrong about Mobius after all. Maybe Mobius, like them, is imperfect and a little afraid but trying.

Slowly, Loki pulls Mobius’s hands from their face so as not to burn him with the cold of their skin as they lift the glamour that hides their Jotunn form.

They want to look away, to hide from the horror they are sure to see on Mobius’s face, but simultaneously are too desperate to see any and every reaction.

Mobius’s eyes grow wide. His lips part. He blinks a few times.

“Loki,” Mobius says, and Loki braces for fresh heartache. But then he smiles, real and true and bright, a lighthouse in a lifetime of hurt. “Blue like the ocean.” The adoration never dims from his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

Mobius insists he doesn’t care, but Loki only feels comfortable again with their glamour restored.

“Either way,” Mobius says, and sends Loki off to the bathroom to shower and change. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”

When Loki leaves the tiny bathroom in their silk pajamas, they find the small two-person table lit by candlelight. Mobius stands beside it, wearing one of the dark suits Loki picked out for him at the store, with a deep green tie that’s slightly askew.

“What’s all this?” Loki asks.

“I know we’re soulmates, and our fates are destined and everything,” Mobius says, tugging at his collar. A bit of pink dusts his cheeks. “But some things should be done the old fashioned way. I want to win your heart, so I thought...” He clears his throat. “I want to wine and dine you. Properly.”

“Ah.” Loki slides further into the room, heart lighter than it’s been in the past forty-eight hours. All the lingering hurts are mended. And Mobius looks delectable in that suit, just as Loki thought he would. Loki strides right up to him, reaches out, and adjusts his tie. “You are attempting to seduce me.”

Mobius’s cheeks redden. He glances away for the briefest of moments before his eyes return to Loki’s face.

“You are everything a guy could want,” Mobius says. “More than I ever dreamed.”

Loki finishes fixing Mobius’s tie, but leaves their hands flat on Mobius’s chest. Mobius takes one and brings it to his mouth. He places a kiss to Loki’s palm.

Loki shivers, but not from any cold.

“Loki,” Mobius says, giving so much weight to the name - things unspoken, maybe not ready to be said, but are known - so known, and ready to be shown.

Mobius leans, and Loki stays very still, waiting, wanting but so, so afraid.

Mobius stops just out of reach. His breath hot on Loki’s lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallows all their fear and whispers, “Please.”

Mobius closes the distance and presses their lips together.

Fireworks ignite in Loki’s chest. Their heart thunders. Their hands itch for more, so they grab Mobius by the shoulders and hold, clinging, ruining the new suit and not caring at all.

Mobius cups Loki’s jawline, guiding them closer, tilting gently, positioning Loki just as he wants them. Loki goes willingly, opening their mouth as Mobius licks his way inside.

They should have done this long ago. They should do this all the time. This should never, ever stop.

Loki moans as Mobius’s fingers comb into their hair. Mobius breaks for air, tilts his head, and comes back for more. Loki holds Mobius so close, they are certain their heart beats straight into Mobius’s chest.

It’s perfect, passion incarnate, and Loki wants so much that they -

Loki’s stomach growls. Loudly.

Mobius smiles against Loki’s lips.

Loki groans as Mobius plants one more soft kiss and pulls away.

“Wining and dining time,” he says with a wink.

Loki is both endeared and annoyed. “I will have more of this.” His stomach grumbles again. “After dinner.”

Loki doesn’t miss the flush of Mobius’s cheeks, even as his easy smile returns. “It would be my absolute pleasure, and I mean that.”

#i wrote this #lokius #wowki #loki x mobius #soulmate au #part 4 of 5 theoretically though the list of scenes i want gets longer every chapter oops #might be 4 of 6 #anyway #fighting cw #making up #that jotunn scene that must be in every long fic #first kiss #i fit a lot in here haha #OH! also #long fic #be warned if you click the read more #ao3 link tomorrow prolly #this one hits a little different than the rest #i really wanted to deal with mobius's workaholism

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haik-choo · 4 years

Text

nekoma and karasuno boys w/ a loving s/o

request: Noya, Tanaka, Yamamoto, and Lev with a S/o (separate) who likes to hold his face with both her hands? Fluffy and blushy boys, please and thank you!

a/n: i wanted to wait to do this request until i could figure out lev’s character! to be honest, he’s kind of hard to understand...my thing about him is that he’s mischievous and has a lot of pride, is too honest and isn’t very observant on other’s emotions, and he’s easily excited and sociable! hehehe i hope you enjoy!

[NEKOMA AND KARASUNO BOYS WHEN THEIR S/O HOLDS THEIR FACE]

-nishinoya, tanaka, yamamoto, lev

nishinoya yuu.

is like a dog, literally v i b r a t i n g in your grasp, his eyes are sparkling and he puts all his head weight into your hands, closing his eyes to savor the moment

the most obvious guy, he has no issue with other people knowing how fucking SMITTEN he is with you, literally he grows a tail and its wagging at super sonic speed. no joke he just loves your touch, and you bet he’ll tell you to do it more often

if he sees you coming, he will be in position for optimal face-holding before you even get there, like he’s at the perfect height for it and everything, no cap. closes his eyes, but opens them once he realizes he could be missing out on your cuteness

surprise him, and he will not be able to hide his smile, and he interlaces his fingers with your hands while they’re still on his face and just leans in for a big juicy kiss, because that’s the only way he can think of to show you just how much you make his heart race

actually, he basically expects you to kiss him if you put your hands on his face, and if you don’t, he’ll start pouting and corss his arms childishly until you give him at least a cute little kiss on his cheek, and even then he’ll whip his head around just so your lips can connect <4

“babe you can’t play with my heart like that :( ”

tanaka ryuunosuke.

is tense, but only because he’s so excited, literally has two clenched fists by his side to show how happy he is

okay his eyes are literally shining, like his eyes have hearts swirling in them and he’s just like “touch me more! kiss me! kiss!”

when he sees you coming with your hands up, he gets proud like tora, but he loses composure way faster than him. and by the time your loving hands touch his smooth skin (he has the best skin in karasuno, fight me) his arms go limp and he just. dies

if you manage to catch him off guard (i feel that he has like a sixth sense where he can tell when you’re about to give him some kind of affection), this dude literally furrows his eyebrows and his heart beats out of his chest, and then he literally Can Not contain himself and he just lets out a yell and engulfs you in his big n’ buff arms <3

honestly, i feel that he gets used to it at some point, and then he just looks at you with light in his eyes, and just savors the feeling of you touching him. we all know he’s touch-starved, it’s obvious that he won’t stop you from giving him a little love

if you’re in front of the team while you do this, he will literally look noya in the eyes and they share a single sparkle between them because they both just know. what do they know? i don’t know, they just know

yamamoto taketora.

he’s astral projecting into his next life. dare i say...he’s a bigger simp that tanaka and noya. i canon this. he definitely tries to not seem super fazed, but he is. he get’s the look on his face that he gave tanaka when he said he was to cowardly to try and get close to kiyoko lololol

he thinks he’s being smooth, but you can literally see his eyes shaking. if he’s focused on something else when you do it, he’ll just use one hand to cover yours and without looking at you he’ll continue on doing something else

if he knows you’re about to do the thing, he’ll tense up a little and puff out his chest a little, because he’s proud baby! he’s proud that his s/o (you) is beautiful and attractive and perfect and not afraid to show a little skin ship in front of others!

but sometimes because he’s too busy being all proud, he won’t bend down to your level, so you tug him down so he’s level to your face, and he goes silent. he doesn’t even have enough time to blush and he’s just slightly shocked with an open mouth. if you smile wide and tell him to payy more attention to you, he doesn’t get all flustered

i feel that he get’s a deep genuine happiness in his chest, and he just gets this light blush dusted on the apples of his cheeks as he smiles and laughs back at you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead while your hands are still on his cheeks <3

haiba lev.

you’ve gotta climb him like a tree to do this, lol. totally teases you about your height, if you’re taller than him he’ll say smth snarky and if you’re shorter he’ll hold his head up higher

he’s like a cat when you do this, like his eyes become half-lidded and he just stares at you dreamily. you swear you hear him purring, but it’s just him humming. his back gets all slouched if you both are standing, but if you’re sitting, he leans towards you anf lays his long ass noodle arms on your shoulders

if he can tell that you’re about to do it, he’s practically jumping out of his seat. he’s super honest, so i feel like he’d say some shit like “whenever you do this it makes my heart beat really fast” and he’ll probably tease you because you’d get all red

but if he doesn’t know, and you surprise him with your face-holds, his eyes literally dilate x100. subconsciously puts his own hands over yours, face redder than his nekoma jersey.

he can’t come up with something witty whenever you surprise him, and he just ends up getting really red and warm and looking off somewhere else before just staring straight into your eyes

usually steals a quick peck if you do it, and bonus points if you pucker your lips out and baby him really cutely asd you do it, i feel that he likes to be doted on

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szivtalan · 3 years

Text

love is in the words unspoken

all these moments are golden,

forever is mine with you

the blossoming of the cherry trees always puts hawks in a strange mood. he thinks they’re romantic, magical - reminds him of a time when he was more naive, more dreamy, didn’t know much about the world. it’s nostalgic, to see the carpet of sakura petals on the streets, reminding him of what is and what could’ve been.

‘hawks!’

it’s ironic that he runs into endeavor’s child just as the flowers begin to fall.

‘hey, it’s todoroki.’ he grins, glancing at the two heroes behind the one already rushing up to him: deku and dynamight. ah yes, the three musketeers, as they call themselves. it’s nice to see the top three teaming up that way. ‘where’s the honorific though, kiddo? i’m still much older than you.’

‘not that much.’ shoto replies, and it feels like a shot to the heart. that’s right... they’re both in their twenties now. ‘and i figured i’d drop the honorifics now that i’m above you on the hero ranking list.’

the tilt of his head would be adorable if he weren’t such an asshole. tokoyami was right when he said that his youngest was different than endeavor - hawks only wished to see such a playful side of him.

‘the disrespect.’ hawks laughs, slapping shoto on the shoulder. he hits harder than what would be necessary, but the boy doesn’t even bat an eye. sturdy. and tall. holy shit, is he taller than hawks now? ‘anyway, i really don’t mind. are you guys patrolling around here?’

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE HALF-AND-HALF, BEFORE I GO THERE AND BEAT IT!’ one youngster yells at them.

‘kacchan, don’t be so rude! he’s talking to hawks-san!’

‘friendly bunch.’ hawks snorts, and shoto just shakes his head with a smile.

‘they’re the best. i’m just trying to catch up.’ he admits, sounding sincere.

‘DON’T IGNORE ME, FUCKFACE!’

‘what are you doing around here anyway?’ shoto asks. ‘isn’t your office in a different city?’

‘yeah, i just came here to stretch my wings, take a walk.’ hawks says, ruffling his feathers a little for emphasis.

‘are you walking on your wings?’

‘n-no...?’

‘then how-’

‘WRAP IT UP NOW!’ at dynamight’s next shout, shoto visibly flinches. he seems more irritated than scared, at least to hawks.

‘i just wanted to thank you for helping my dad all those years ago.’ shoto says then, bowing his head a little. hawks takes it back, he doesn’t have an ounce of disrespect in his body. he’s just a little warped in the social area, and hawks has a fairly good guess where he gets that from. ‘i’ll be going now.’

‘wait, ah- how, how’s the old man?’ hawks tries to aim for anything but desperate. ‘i haven’t heard from him since the retirement.’

shoto looks at him thoughtfully, and those dual-colored eyes make hawks immeasurably nervous. he feels like he’s staring into his soul, opening up the secrets he’s got locked inside.

‘he’s well. i go home on weekends.’ shoto says, pulling up a notebook and a pen. ‘here’s the address. i think he’d appreciate the visit.’

the road to the todoroki estate was the most tiring one hawks had taken in a while. it’s not like it was far from where they met with shoto, but he spent the entire time worrying if he’s dressed well for the occasion, if he should just walk instead of flying to not get gross and sweaty - if endeavor will even let him in, or he’ll just pass by and get told off.

the house is huge, traditional, designed in classic enji taste. hawks could see the roof from a street away, almost walks into a lamppost while staring, his heart picking up the speed both from the scare and the nerves. his feet feel heavier with every step, walking down the street, finally getting to the gate-

and seeing todoroki enji, former number one hero, the feared endeavor sweep the walkway to his door, the scene way too casual to not send an already spring-up hawks into hysterics.

‘what the hell is that?’ hawks spits, laughter erupting from deep in his belly. the look on endeavor’s face just makes him shriek louder, his abs clenching with it. ‘is that- a fucking broom for ants, endeavor, you look so funny-’

‘can’t a man just do his chores in peace?!’ endeavor’s yelling now; sparks fly on his heated skin, and then they burst into flames.

‘now that’s the endeavor-san i know and love.’ he laughs, holding onto his own stomach, wiping his tears. endeavor’s face appears red under all that fire, he walks up to the gate to let him in.

‘what are you doing here, anyway?’ he mumbles, extinguishing himself as hawks walked in. he holds his broom under his armpit rather awkwardly, with the gracelessness of a man not quite used to doing the cleaning. hawks looks at him, observes: the slouch in his shoulders, the specks of grey in his stubble, the blush high on his cheek, the early wrinkles. he smiles to himself, reasons unknown, buried deep in a secluded part of his heart.

‘ran into your kid downtown, he said i should drop by and say hello.’ hawks lifts the nylon bags he’s been carrying, offers a lopsided grin. ‘i brought takeout.’

‘hmpft.’ endeavor is elaborate, as always. a man of few words and plenty actions, something hawks has always admired in him. ‘you can stay. only for the food.’

‘so you’re still very much hopeless in the kitchen, eh?’

‘don’t make me change my mind, brat!’

the house is huge on the inside, at least five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and dining room, and one living room all fit into one floor. all of it echoes from their steps, empty and lonely.

‘your boy said that he’s visiting you on weekend.’ hawks pries, shrugging his coat off as he hands over the bag. his fingers brush against endeavor’s fight-hardened, calloused ones and his heart feels like it could jump out of his chest again.

‘whenever he has the time. shoto’s a busy man.’ endeavor nods, his voice dripping with pride. hawks doesn’t need him to say any more to know how fond he is of his son. it makes him smile, actually. ‘why?’

‘and the rest of your family?’ he asks, a little more cautious.

‘i see rei and natsuo on holidays, and fuyumi usually spends her school breaks here.’ enji sets down the bag at the low table, grabs a pair of chopsticks from the dish rack. there are plates piled high there: it seems like he can clean up after himself, but refuses to put things away. hawks figures it’s pretty comfortable, considers that for a second before he realizes how much he can see into endeavor’s private life.

they sit down at the same time, and their eyes meet. ‘i’m not lonely.’ enji immediately turns defensive. there’s probably pity or sadness in hawks’ eyes, he wasn’t paying attention to his expression for a second.

‘i wasn’t suggesting you were.’

‘being alone is something i deserve. so i take my punishment with pride and strength.’ enji squares his shoulder, sitting up impossibly straight at his uncomfortable seat. he takes the boxes out, scatters them across the table for them to reach. no plates, though. ‘itadakimasu.’

they eat mostly in silence, warm, comfortable, and hawks can’t take his eyes off him. endeavor looks so casual, so approachable like this. he looks soft, in the slightly frayed sweatpants, a little weary from use, and the soft cotton shirt hugging his bulging muscles, stretching across his enormous shoulders. his face is a little thin, the wrinkles obvious on its unharmed half. from this close, hawks can see the grey hairs on his temple, too.

‘i’m looking for a place to stay.’ hawks announces once they’re finished eating. the look of surprise and something else - hope? no, it can’t be... - flashing across endeavor’s face startles him, but he’s not about to back down, now. ‘what-... ugh, how much do you think you’d rent out a room for?’

‘what?’ endeavor appears shell-shocked. ‘wh- why?’

‘well, because my apartment building is remodeling, and i’m pretty sick of living in the busier side of the city anyway. figured i’d change it up, move into the suburbs-’

‘that’s not what i’m asking.’ he snaps. ‘why me? don’t you have friends who’d let you stay with them?’

‘not anyone i’d like to move in with.’ hawks shrugs, playing with a few leftover grains of rice. ‘you know, i can cook, and i’m also willing to dry off and put away your damn dishes.’

‘hawks...’

‘c’mon, we can have sleepovers! i can braid your hair and you can braid mine. it will be fun!’

‘i can’t let you do that, hawks.’

‘okay, yes, i admit, your mane’s a little short for a proper french braid, but i can make do-’

‘hawks.’ enji’s voice booms. ‘no.’

‘you’ve known me for almost a decade, old man.’ hawks is talking back, suddenly fired up. ‘why won’t you just let me take care of you?’

‘because i’m a perfectly capable person who doesn’t need anyone to take care of them.’ he huffs, steam seeping from his nose. ‘and because i can’t let you do that to yourself.’

‘what, enji?’ he’s loud. is he shouting? he can’t tell.

‘waste your time on a bitter old man who isn’t worthy of you.’

now they’re pulling up the big guns. hawks deflates, props his head up on his elbows.

‘retired, but still on your self-deprecating bullshit.’ he sighs. ‘will you take it to the grave?’

‘hawks, i’m serious-’

‘and i’ve been serious, too. my entire life, about my feelings for you. you kept shaking me off, saying it wasn’t appropriate for someone your age dating someone so young, saying you were married, but all this time, i kept getting refused because you hate yourself too much to allow yourself to be loved?’

hawks doesn’t know when he stood up, but he’s falling to his knees beside enji now.

‘what kind of an asshole does that...?’ he whispers, staring right into enji’s fearful eyes.

‘an asshole who cares about you.’ enji murmurs, letting hawks hit him in the chest.

‘this isn’t “caring” about someone! this is just lying to yourself and keeping yourself from being happy!’ his fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘keigo-’ enji hisses, losing his balance and gripping the edge of the table so he doesn’t fall against the other man.

‘tell me no.’ hawks proposes, his free hand coming up to cradle his jaw, so prickly and manly and strong, the shudder that ripples through him from the gentle touch, making him so weak and vulnerable. ‘no more running away, enji, no more games. tell me no right now, and i won’t ever bother you again.’

endeavor furrows his brows, the skin around his scar pulling grotesquely over his face with the struggle. he takes a deep breath, and hawks gets goosebumps as the hot air from the exhale hits his skin.

‘i can’t...’ enji whispers, and hawks can barely hear over the sound of his heart shattering. he starts to let go, but he forgets to breathe and move altogether as enji leans in instead, hand coming up to hold him close by the back of his head. ‘i can’t say no, not anymore...’

the first touch of lips against his have his insides flutter, almost working him into a panicked frenzy. he can only hope that enji can’t feel his heart beating in his throat as he kisses him, deep and desperate and oh so careful. hawks clings into him, lets him chase him for a change, holds on for the ride.

when they separate, hawks feels dizzy, drunk with heat and pleasure. enji looks just about as much present, he seems dumbfounded.

‘well, uh.’ he says, and hawks would kick anyone who says he doesn’t have a way with words.

‘i can come on thursdays and fridays.’ he offers, for now. ‘that way your kids can still have you on weekends.’

‘thanks.’ that’s all endeavor says before he pushes a few stray strands of hair back from hawks’ face, leans in for another kiss.

it’s a date, then.

#bnha #endhawks #anime #enho #todoroki enji #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #vmine #fluff #future fic #oh look at me not respecting my art and writing in a tumblr post again #oh but well i worked on it all afternoon so enjoy?#tododekubaku #if u squint lol #bakugo katsuki #midoriya izuku

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

random juliet moments.

(a/n: this will probably be updated regularly as i think of more things to add!! i tried to organise these chronologically to the best of my ability but there may be some inconsistencies, so apologies in advance!!🤍)

started crying when she saw yunho cry at their first fansign

when hongjoong forgot to say “dul, set” and said “8 makes 1 team” alone, san and juliet coincidentally said “1 makes 1 team” to clown him and they looked at each other like 👁👄👁

when san backwashed into his bottle of cola and hongjoong unknowingly drank from it which made her go 👁👄👁 and she made san pinky-promise that he wouldn’t do that to her

when felix, chan and somi hugged her when ateez got their first win on m countdown

when she wrote another one of their iconic instagram live “please leave” signs in her pretty cursive handwriting

she really said “𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 ❤️” 😭😭😭

when that one australian interviewer asked “if you don’t have any sexiness or charisma like me, what do you do then?” and she half-jokingly went “yeah, that’d be tragic”

cried at their concert in sydney and couldn’t sing for the remainder of the song they were performing because she was crying so much

said “sorry, this is his mission, i’m just here for moral support” when the employees at the pharmacy heard her speak fluent english and asked her to translate for mingi during ateez treasure film

(disclaimer: i’m pretty sure mingi mentioned in a v-live that the producers (?) of ateez treasure film told him to exaggerate the mission for entertainment purposes. so this is in no way trying to make fun of anyone’s english, and is intended to be light-hearted. as someone whose mother tongue isn’t english, and is currently learning a fourth language, i can say with full confidence that learning other languages is really, really hard and i’m so proud of the boys for their english!! in conclusion, mingi english king and mingi bestest boy!! 🥺)

climbed the sydney harbour bridge with seonghwa and mingi for the former’s mission

when they all went to juliet’s house in sydney to have dinner with her family during ateez treasure film; she also saw her cat in person for the first time in years and teared up because it had grown a lot

also cried during the confessional activity on the beach while filming ateez treasure film and clung to seonghwa and yunho for the rest of the activity

reacted to the ateez meme song with hongjoong

“ateez meh-meh song?” pls he’s so cute

*dying in the background* “MEME song” 😭

laughed for 5 minutes straight after seeing yunho in his thor costume

showed off a hydro flask that she customised during a v-live before going “sksksksksksksksk”; this moment went viral on stan twitter

eating fairy bread and toast with vegemite during a v-live

making the boys and their staff try vegemite

san: “ewwwww!”

“yAH! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO EAT A SPOONFUL! THAT’S NOT HOW YOU EAT VEGEMITE!”

almost said “fuck” once during a v-live with wooyoung and he immediately slapped a hand over her mouth

“everyone, i apologise on her behal—JULIET WAS THAT YOUR TONGUE DID YOU JUST LICK MY HAND”

after joking about choosing a leader for the ‘99 line on idol radio, the djs asked juliet what leader she was, and she teasingly replied that she was the leader of k-pop’s “aussie line”; felix later brought this up in a v-live with chan to clown her

when it was time to shoot her solo scenes for the music video for answer no one could find her and everyone panicked until they found her curled up in a corner sleeping

was close to snapping during a group v-live because of the hate comments and didn’t bother masking her irritation towards the end; jongho had to pat her head to subtly calm her; this was the first time atiny’s ever saw her angry on camera and realised how scary she could be

when a few atiny’s brought juliet flowers during a fansign which made her incredibly happy for the rest of the event, so now atiny’s bring her flowers all the time

was so focused on eating during a v-live that she was completely oblivious to some of the boys quietly watching her eat adoringly

when an atiny told her that they hadn’t eaten yet at a fansign and she asked them to pinky-promise that they would eat something after the event

almost lost her shit with san when seonghwa rapped on weekly idol

covering “someone you loved” on weekly idol which went viral

almost died laughing when they sang “wonderland” in spanish on hello82

fangirled over basically every artist during mama 2019; clips of her just having the time of her life went viral and many asked about “the girl in the boy group who was jamming out”

when san almost gave her a heart attack by spinning the gold play button; she was still very impressed

rounded up all 8 of her members to sing “thank you” to them during “thank u” at their seoul concert and make them all emotional

during the same concert, she accidentally whacked herself over the head with her mic when waving to fans and went “ ᵃ ʰ ”

she’s babie :(

randomly asked “toes for fingers or fingers for toes” during a v-live and the other members looked at her like 👁👄👁 for a good minute

got very passionate about having fingers for toes being better than having toes for fingers

“how will you even find shoes that are big enough?” “custom shoes, duh🙄”

almost died laughing during san and mingi’s round in the “scream in silence” game during their v-live

nearly lost her cool from playing the “scream in silence” game with yeosang

“yOU I D I O T”

made friendship bracelets for herself, the boys, and some of their staff members on an episode of juliet’s archive; they can all be seen wearing the bracelets frequently

when she couldn’t attach the wristband to her lightiny and asked seonghwa for help, but he couldn’t do it either so they looked at each other in exasperation for a few seconds before deciding to give up together

wore her huge platform boots in a v-live so she could be taller than hongjoong, much to his dismay

when she tried to show her boots off by lifting up her leg, she forgot she was wearing a dress; seonghwa immediately panicked and moved in front of her to shield her from the camera, not knowing she was wearing shorts underneath the dress

watching seonghwa’s birthday v-live in the corner with san

when their staff brought out a “cake” that was built from packets of timtams for her birthday v-live and it made her so happy she almost cried

reacted to hongjoong’s cover of “black or white” during a solo v-live and teared up

when an atiny asked her to help with their maths homework during a v-live and she said “uh...i’m probably the last person you’d want to ask...”

cried during an inception music show performance because she got so into the performance; it scared atiny’s until she went on v-live explaining what happened

helping yunho expose san on weekly idol

when she imitated seonghwa’s “num-num” and did the “ottoke” song on weekly idol and made everyone on and off set soft for her

when her and wooyoung both lost it when yeosang sucked on a piece of radish on weekly idol during a game

when she said “i have the only braincell in ateez” and was almost immediately clowned by atiny’s who made compilations of moments when she acted questionably

“jeez, you guys didn’t have to come for me like that”

said “wow, geography king” when yunho said “thank you, scandinavia” for his “thanxx” acoustic poem during idol live tv

during a game on idol live tv, she caught wooyoung and yeosang copying the answer to the number of days since ateez’s debut from atiny’s live comments and subsequently changed her answer, unbeknownst to them

when even san didn’t want her to eat the “detergent hwachae” he, hongjoong, yeosang and mingi made on studiok

she ate it anyways and it was instant regret

“we’re not friends anymore >:(” — to jongho on ateez fever road after hongjoong found the real key which was attached to jongho’s bag all along

was so scared when the masked man appeared during ateez fever road that she hid behind hongjoong and they freaked out together

but started laughing when the masked man “kidnapped” wooyoung

“if we let you have him you won’t come back for us, right?” “yAH! BAEK MINYOUNG!”

then did the “7 makes 1 team” chant with the others, excluding jongho and wooyoung after the former suggested “saving” wooyoung

was slouching in a chair in the background of an ateez log but immediately got up and sat upright once the cameraman came over to film her while pretending nothing happened

when one atiny showed their cat during a video call with her and she went “CAT :D”

when she went on and on about her coffee preferences and opinions during a solo vlive without realising, and wooyoung had to call her for her to realise that she had been ranting about coffee for five minutes straight 💀

when she was about to fight hongjoong for slandering mint chocolate chip ice cream

being an iconic legend when she was on the kpop daebak podcast with eric nam (and also fangirled over him)

dancing to what type of x by jessi with san and yunho during their kcontact 3 interview

“jessi-sunbaenim i love you!!”

(a/n: ajshakjska this is so long i’m so sorry 😔😔)

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fancywasmyname1 · 4 years

Text

Harden My Heart (1) Part One

Warning: Language

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

“We’re doing this for your best interest, Caroline.”

I stared at the piece of paper, pulling at the edges. “It’s not only the best thing for you but it’s also going to help our family out as well.”

I stayed silent as I listened to my mother try to plead her and my father’s case. I thought I was coming home for a nice family dinner, but I was instead dropped in the lion’s den, preparing to be ripped to shreds. “He’s a good boy, Caroline.” My father spoke. “He’s going to take very good care of you, better than any other man can.”

“I’d rather slit my wrist and bleed out on the street than go with that man.” I muttered, earning looks of disapproval from my parents.

“Don’t say things like that, Caroline.” I looked up at my mom.

I wanted so badly to tell her off but I knew that she and my dad were under enough stress. They didn’t need me mouthing off to them, even though it would make me feel a little better.

“Now-“ She spoke as she stood up from the couch across from me. “Reggie will be here any minute and you’re still dressed like a slouch.” I looked down at my baggy shirt and gym shorts. “You need to go upstairs, shower, and make yourself look presentable.”

“Presentable?” I questioned.

She let out a huff, her nerves hanging on by a string. “Presentable, Caroline-” Her voice filled with annoyance. “Like every blushing bride-to-be should look.” _________________________________________________

“I’m gonna throw up.”

I stared at myself in the mirror, the Ivory gown staring back at me.

“Just take a couple deep breaths, Caroline.” My eyes drifted to my mom’s reflection, her purple dress hugging her small feature. “It’s just nerves.”

Just nerves.

I had been hearing that phrase for the past two weeks. Meeting a man that I was to marry in less than a week… Just nerves. Planning a wedding for over 300 guest… Just nerves. The day finally being here and my life being signed away forever to a man I don’t even know… Just nerves.

Today was the day that I had been dreading since my parents dropped the nuptial bomb. When you’re a little girl, you dream of your wedding day. You dream of the beautiful dress, the fancy reception, and the man of your dreams standing at the alter waiting for you. You basically have it all planned by the age of 10, but fate has a funny way of fucking it all up. Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would be in the situation I’m in now. I never imagined that I would be standing here, wearing a beautiful wedding dress, waiting to walk down the aisle to a man that I didn’t know or even love for that matter. I would be sharing the biggest and supposedly happiest day of my life with a room full of strangers and maybe a dozen of my own family and friends. When I pictured myself getting married, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to be in love.

“Reggie is gonna die when he sees you, sweetheart.”

Reggie Kray.

There’s not much to say about Reginald Kray, seeing as I barely know the guy. The few times that I had any interaction with him, he seemed cold and uptight. Almost like a stick was shoved up his ass and he had no way of getting it out. He didn’t talk much, which was okay by me. From what I heard from my parents, Reggie was a twin but never spoke of his sibling. It was all a big mystery when it came to Reggie Kray. He walked around with an entourage of guys, all dressed in suits, black suits. There was always one main guy with him at all times, almost like he was afraid to be by himself. The guy was just as uptight and cold as Reggie. He never spoke the couple times that I was around him. He just stood there like he was a fixture of the house. Was it going to be like this when Reggie and I were finally married? Am I getting a two-for-one kind of deal?

“Five minutes before show time!”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the wedding planner barged through the door. I watched as the stylist placed her finishing touches on my mom’s hair, giving her a smile in the mirror. Everyone in the room buzzed around, fixing stray hairs, touching up makeup, and grabbing anything they needed.

“Is the bride ready?”

I stayed silent, watching as everyone scattered around me. I felt like my world was closing in on me. My chest felt tight. My throat felt like it was closing. I wanted to rip this fucking dress off my body and throw myself in the nearest river. I wanted to be anywhere but here!

“She’s rea-“

“Why me?” I cut my mom off. “Why do I have to do this? Why do I have to marry a man I don’t even fucking know?!” I yelled out, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “There’s a million girls out there that he could have picked. What’s so fucking special about me?”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I could see pity in some of their eyes, while others looked at me like I was insane. If they were in my shoes, they would be freaking out too. “Caroline-“ My mom barked. “You need to calm down!”

“No!” I started tugging at my dress. “I want to know why he fucking picked me?!”

The wedding planner began ushering everyone out of the room, leaving my mom and I alone.

“I’m taking this dress off-“ I reached my hands behind my back, searching for the zipper. “I’m leaving.”

My mom suddenly turned into the Flash, swatting my hands away from the back of the dress. “You need to get your shit together, Caroline Taylor!” She seethed. “You have a church full of people waiting for you and you’re throwing a fucking hissy-fit. Do you know how ridiculous you are sounding right now? You know how many girls would kill to be in the spot you’re in right now?”  I stayed silent.

“You wanna know why Reggie Kray picked you?” She spoke. “You need to ask him yourself. You need to speak to that boy like he’s your husband. He’s the one that came to your father and I. He sought you out himself and your father and I agreed that he would be the best match for you.”

“You don’t even know him, mo-“

“You don’t know him either, Caroline!” She pressed. “You’re not even giving him the time of day. You need to get to know him because you’re gonna be with him for a very long time.”

“I can get it annulled or filed for divorce.”

My mom glared at me, “No daughter of mine is gonna get a divorce.” Her voice was serious and low. “You’re going to learn to love that boy, you hear me?”

Before I could answer, the wedding planner popped back in, telling us that it was time to start. I felt like my life was failing. At that moment, I knew that I couldn’t back out. There was no way my mom would let me leave this church without Reggie beside me and the name Kray behind Caroline…

The Bridal Chorus was a song that caused butterflies to erupt in everyone’s stomach. It meant that the event was finally happening and the bride would be ushered down the aisle to her awaiting groom. It was a happy moment for everyone, everyone except me.

As my dad and I started making our way down the pathway, I looked around at all the guest in attendance. I didn’t recognize half the people there, and those I did know, looked at me with so much hope and happiness. I wonder if they could see emptiness and sadness when I looked at them? I took a glance ahead at the alter where Reggie was standing. His three-piece suit hugged his body like a glove, his hair slicked back perfectly. He looked very handsome. As we grew closer, I my eyes connected with his. Heat flooded my core as his eyes burned into my skin, his eyes examining my front top to bottom.

“Who gives this woman to this man?”

The music stopped as the priest’s voice rang throughout the venue.

I felt my dad’s arm tighten around mine, “Her mother and I do.” He spoke proudly.

The priest nodded his head, giving him a small smile. I turned toward my dad, his hands reaching for my lace veil. I wanted to burst into tears as I locked eyes with him. He gave me a reassuring smile as he lifted the veil away from my face, placing a kiss on my cheek.   “I love you.” He whispered.

I remained silent as he pulled away, reaching for my right hand, leading me towards Reggie.

“Take good care of her, son.” My dad spoke as he placed my hand into Reggie’s left. Reggie simply nodded his head before turning back toward the priest, pulling me with him as he ascending back up the small staircase.

His grip on my hand felt firm but not too tight. It almost felt comforting. Once we were in front of the priest, he ran his thumb over my skin in a reassuring manner, before softly releasing my hand. My hand felt like it was on fire, a good kind of fire.

“We are gathered here today to join this holy union between Reginald Kray and Caroline Taylor.”

I started to block out what the priest was saying after that first line. Here I was, standing in front a church full of people, marrying a man I’ve only known for two weeks. I didn’t know his favorite color, sports teams, what he liked, disliked. I just noticed that his eyes are green! I didn’t know what he did for a living, if he had a college degree. I’m not even sure how old he is but yet here I was. If I really wanted to, I could have left. I would have pushed past my mom, told everyone to kiss my ass, and got the fuck out of Dodge. That’s what I would have done if I wanted to leave. That little fighting spirit was still inside me, telling me to kick off the heels and run out of the church but I stayed. I can’t tell you why I stayed but here I was.

“Reggie, Caroline-”The priest spoke. “Please face each other for the reading of the vowels and ring exchange.”

We were soon facing, able to take each other in fully. He was a lot taller than I remembered. Frankly, he was even more attractive close up. The features that I should have noticed the first day I met him were in the spotlight as stared up at him. His chiseled jaw looked like it was carved by Michelangelo himself. His lips were full and the perfect shade of pink. His eyes were green, with little hints of blue and brown floating around. He was fucking perfect.

“Reggie, please repeat after me.” The priest began. “I, Reginald Kray, take thee Caroline Taylor, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“I, Reginald Kray, take thee Caroline Taylor, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” His English accent floating through the air like a warm breeze.

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer and for poorer, until death do us part.”

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer and for poorer, till death do us part-“ He slipped the diamond wedding sent on my left ring finger. “I promise to always protect you no matter what.” He spoke the last part, his eyes boring into mine.

My heart fluttered as I took in the extra vow he threw in. By the audience’s reaction, I wasn’t the only one who was shocked.

“Caroline, please repeat after me.” My eyes stayed connected with Reggie’s as the priest started speaking.

“I, Caroline Taylor, take thee Reginald Kray, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

“I-“ I stopped short.

Every thought that I had about this wedding came crashing down on me once again. I was a couple words away from being married. A few little words separated me from a life of unknowns.

“I, Caroline Taylor, take thee Reginald Kray, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

It was as if a sense of relief not only flooded through the priest, but Reggie and the entire church.

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part.”

“To have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer or poorer, until death do us part.” I placed the silver band on his finger, his finger wrapping around mine once the ring was placed.

“I now have the pleasure of pronouncing you man and wife, Reggie, you may now kiss your gorgeous bride.”

I watched as he started leaning forward as I felt myself leaning back. Before I could get far enough away, his arm stretched behind my waist, bringing me flush against his hard body. In that moment, we were in our own world. He was looking at me and I was looking at him. Without further hesitation, he crashed his lips onto mine. Shock was the first thing I felt but as the kiss deepened, pleasure and want replaced the feeling.

“Get a room, you two!”

Reggie was the first to break away, leaving me wanting more. When I finally came back to earth and realized that we were still in front of my parents, his parents, and especially the priest, embarrassment coursed through me. I just had a fucking make-out session in front of a priest, my parents, strangers, and God.

Reggie Kray was already turning me into a completely different person...

#Reggie Kray #reggie kray imagine #reggie kray fanfiction #reggie kray x oc #legend 2015 #legend movie #Tom Hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x oc

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appleseverywhere · 4 years

Note

follow up questioooon. i loved your answer from my last ask hihi the who broke it off question. your answer actually made sense and I see that happening tbh. Now, follow up question, how do you think qrow coped and "moved on" after the break up? and winter too, how did she cope and "move on"? any idea how theyre going to "reconcile" if thats ever gonna happen because i havent seen them in the v8 trailer (dear god why)

I’m going to put in some headcanons I really wish would happen for this coming volume then hahaha This might sound like some short fic btw since I’m probably going to get carried away with it hahaha (I’m making a one-shot on this so I’ll have it posted soon. Think of this as the plot summary HAHA)

Qrowin Coping/Moving On (Post break-up) & V8 Reconciliation

Qrow’s coping/moving on

The way I see it is that Qrow is going to end up back to his alcoholic self (not really surprised there even if that could have been the reason they broke up in the first place). It’s cause its practically all he’s known from the start. He never had a healthy way of coping with loss, and with Winter and him splitting up, it just seemed to prove to him that he wasn’t someone worth loving.

Disappointingly, he’s going to hook up with girls at some point, just to feel what used to be there only to end up with the emptiness that Winter had left him. He’d go through the same routine of drinking at a bar, having a one-night stand, and regretting it just as quickly as it starts. He wants to stop. He knew it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right knowing he was still in love with Winter. When he starts convincing himself to leave, he scolds himself, saying that she’s already gone and that it was pointless to resist. The night will continue on and before the sun rises, he’ll leave just before anyone could suspect, with a lot of guilt hanging on his shoulders.

He’ll stop when it gets too much. Eventually, he’ll go to Ozpin for more missions and immerse himself in fulfilling them. He wouldn’t care if he’d get wounded, and he’d let whatever rage and frustrations he had pent up out through his attacks towards the grimm. He wouldn’t look forward to going back, knowing that no one was waiting for him. It adds to his feelings of no one wanting him. He’d keep it all in mind as he purposely puts himself in more danger as he goes on a grimm slaughter spree.

Winter’s coping/moving on

I can see Winter immersing herself into work just as Qrow would. She wouldn’t dare acknowledge the aching pain she felt at losing the one person who genuinely cared for her besides Weiss, the one person who would tell her that her feelings were valid. Without that reminder, she would isolate herself like she had done many times before. She wouldn’t let them show, and she would try to escape them in any way she could.

She would ask Ironwood if he had more tasks for her. The paperwork on her desk had piled up to the point it had been much taller than she was. She claimed more responsibilities just to stay in the base for longer hours. By the time she retired to her room, she’d be too exhausted to let the emotions surface. If that wasn’t the case, she would bring her work with her, writing and organizing them the whole night until she tired herself enough that she knew she wouldn’t end up staring at the ceiling in thought once she lied down.

Per her request, she had asked the general for more missions, and she made sure to avoid Vale and Mistral, knowing he was likely there. Most of her missions were in the deserts of Vacuo or the tundras of Atlas and higher north in Solitas. She would let the intense climate get to her so that she’d focus on it instead of the nagging thoughts in her mind. The only time she would ever relieve her anger and sadness was when she came face to face with hoards of grimm, quickly activating her semblance to zoom through them with one swipe. She’d leave behind what she could in the wind, before turning back to slay more of them, letting her immerse herself as she escaped.

Qrow and Winter Reconcile

I saw this going 3 ways:

In Qrow’s jail cell

In Winter’s hospital room

On the battlefield

So let me expound on this.

In Qrow’s jail cell

We know that Winter was severely injured at the end of V7, so it’s either she makes a quick (but not full) recovery and heads down to the cell, or that before she gets treated, she demands to go see Qrow.

He would be incredibly surprised and concerned to see her in such a state, maybe not even bother to hide it. He had already lost Clover, and while that was all happening, it sent a shiver down his spine to know she almost suffered the same fate. She would likely ask him what exactly happened with Clover and Tyrian, and I get the feeling that she would trust him anyway with whatever he told her. He wouldn’t need to use Robyn’s semblance to prove his innocence cause Winter already knew Qrow wouldn’t lie.

Much to his surprise, she’d let him out, not finding him guilty for his crimes, and more importantly, gave him instructions to find team RWBY and keep her sister safe. She would tell him that he better came back cause they still had to talk later, marking a silent promise. Qrow would be hesitant to leave her alone, but the determination in her eyes pushed him to leave, but not before asking her to promise him she would stay alive.

In Winter’s hospital room

Maybe Qrow would be able to get out of the jail cell (he can turn into a bird, after all) knowing his nieces are out there with Salem’s forces at large. As he leaves Atlas, he hears of a certain special operative who nearly got killed and was currently admitted in the med bay. He makes a quick stop to find her resting and half asleep. She wakes up to his footsteps, expecting the general but is dumbfounded to see him beside her bed.

He asks her what happened and she couldn’t seem to say what she was feeling at all, lost and disappointed in herself for failing. He would secure her doubts somehow, in a very Qrow way of course. Not at all cheesy and all that crap. Winter looks to him for security at that moment, and similar to the previous scenario tells him he should leave before anyone catches him. She grabs his hand as she tells him to protect her sister for her and that he had better make it back alive. To her.

He laughs once before squeezing her hand, telling her to stay safe and to recover well, before running off and out of the academy.

On the battlefield (ah yes, this very spontaneous short fanfic - I might post an actual full oneshot of this later on)

After Qrow and Robyn escaped their jail cell and Winter made a speedy recovery (likely Ironwood requesting to put her in an aura restoration chamber to hasten the replenishing process), they found themselves on opposite ends of the battlefield. Ironwood had instructed Winter to catch and arrest them, warning her not to disobey orders again nor fail for a second time. She was conflicted and Qrow could tell from the moment their swords clashed. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her, reason with her. She was more sensible than Clover was, and he knew that well.

As the fight ensues, she comes off strong, stronger than he remembered. He realized that it's her rage and pent up anger. It had always been her way of getting some weight off her shoulders, and he used to help when he could. It was why they fought all the time, why they were always so physical. It became their unspoken love language, and the way they moved alone spoke volumes.

Neither of them backed down with their strikes, nor did they seem intent on hurting the other as it went. The rest of the ace ops and team RWBY had already found themselves elsewhere in the midst of the battle, yet they found themselves within each other’s close proximities alone in the vast field of snow. Their aura’s had long broken, and that made them all the more careful with each hit they sent. Winter was already slouching in her posture and Qrow’s breathing had grown ragged.

It didn’t take long before he was able to knock the sabre from her hand and she stood with lidded eyes against his blade, almost daring to him to finish her. She pushed her neck against it further with an impassive face, waiting. Despite the dead expression, her eyes betrayed whatever she hoped to convey. Tinged with longing and sorrow, she almost begged him to kill her.

But he couldn’t. He never would.

Dropping his sword to the snow, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. For the first time since she had left the Schnee manor, her emotions had broken from its dam and flooded out in waves of tears against his chest, soaking his vest. He could feel her sobs wrack through her body and only held onto her tighter.

All he could do was mutter repeated apologies as she held onto him like a lifeline. Whether it was because of what happened between them or the reason they had to fight in the first place, he didn’t know. She whispered her own apologies, clutching onto him as she hid her face from his view.

Before he could say anything else, she pushed him with what strength she had left, telling him to run. With Salem in search of the relics and the maiden, there was no other option but to let him go. For the sake of Atlas and Remnant. She wouldn’t be able to stop her on her own, not with the general breathing down her neck, but he and her sister’s team could. As she collapsed on the snow, she screamed for him to leave while he could. He could only nod as he watched her walls crumble. He understood what needed to be done, but he couldn’t just leave like this.

He knelt before her fallen form, moving the hair from her face as he kissed the skin of her forehead, silently promising to return to her. Her eyes fluttered to a close at the contact and kept it that way until she heard the familiar flapping of his wings gradually soften before disappearing into the sky. Her hands grasped at the snow beneath them as she called out, demanding him to stay alive after all of it.

...

Okay, I honestly did not expect to write that last bit but now I really want to continue it HAHAHA Anyway, I was planning to write several oneshots this weekend so I’ll have them posted soon.

Hope these answered your questions!! :)

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justheretobreakthings · 4 years

Text

Kings Over Aces - Chapter 1

(Next Chapter)

Word Count: 3,176 Read on AO3

Story Summary:

The Voltron Coalition has an alliance in the works with the resource-rich planet of Yuipra, and it’s the paladins’ job to keep on the king’s good side while the deal is made. That shouldn’t shouldn’t be too great a challenge; after all, they’ve courted plenty of planets before for the sake of alliances.

Unfortunately, things are made much more complicated when the king takes a special interest in Keith.

Fic content warnings for attempted rape/non-con.

“Keith, for the heavens’ sake, elbows off the table.”

“Hm?”

In the seat beside him, Allura sighed and tapped at the aforementioned elbow, which Keith had been resting on the tablecloth as he idly drummed one of his spoons against the edge of his plate. “Oh,” he whispered, “Sorry.”

“Honestly,” Allura said with a shake of her head. “How many dinners is Voltron going to have to get through before you finally start remembering your table etiquette?”

“Pretty sure it differs from planet to planet,” Keith pointed out.

“There are certain constants that are nigh universal at an elegant dinner. This is one. And while we’re on the subject, that spoon of yours - ”

“Right, right,” Keith muttered, dropping the spoon with a clatter that echoed loudly enough in the spacious dining hall to send all eyes on the banquet table in his direction and make him wince. “Just bored.”

“Yeah, speaking of etiquette,” Lance spoke up from across the table, “Isn’t it sort of improper to keep guests waiting this long for dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Lance,” Allura said through gritted teeth. “Don’t complain.” She gestured with a flick of her head toward further down the table, where the gathered Yuipran nobles were seated, chatting idly amongst themselves. “We’re trying to make a good impression.”

“They’re not listening,” Lance said.

“You don’t know that. Besides, their king was probably simply delayed over some administrative matter or something of the sort. I’m sure the meal will begin soon.”

Keith let out a weary breath before reaching past his plate to take a sip from his water, the only refreshment the guests had been given to tide them over before the meal proper started. He was really starting to get tired of this king.

Yuipra would be a great addition to the coalition, he knew. They were the central power of a massive and flourishing planet system, and they had vast supplies of food, construction materials, and military power to spare. Coran had told them that Yuipra had had a strong alliance with Altea thousands of years before, and the planet had only grown more prosperous in the time since last he’d been around.

Of course, that had been ten thousand years ago, and the alliance had long since dissolved, so now they were tasked with reviving it, generations of rulers later and without Altea around to be part of the deal. Still, Allura and Coran assured the team that the planet’s interests and their shared history would tempt them toward the Voltron coalition.

Originally, they had intended to hash out an alliance over a diplomatic meeting, but somehow along the lines it was established that the current Yuipran king was interested in something a bit more showy. So, a particularly elaborate airshow had been arranged, followed by a parade and a meet-and-greet with various members of the kingdom’s nobility, none of which the king himself had been present for, and now was this extravagant banquet.

Needless to say, the paladins were all more than worn out with festivities by this point, and they just wanted to eat.

“Keith, you’re slouching,” Allura hissed, and Keith sat up straight with a scowl.

“Pidge is slouching too,” he pointed out, and Pidge glared at Keith across the table as she adjusted her own posture. “How come you’re not getting onto her about her table manners?”

“Pidge, don’t stick out your tongue,” Allura said as Pidge did just that. “And because she wasn’t slouching as badly as you were. Besides, as the black paladin, you’re the de facto leader of Voltron right now. The first impression you make is the one that matters most.”

Keith sighed and let his eyes roam down the table toward Shiro, who was sitting patiently, quietly, hands laid neatly on his lap as he waited for the king to arrive. Allura would have had no reason to worry about him making a good first impression if he were still leading Voltron.

Reason number ten thousand why Shiro should be piloting Black, not Keith, he thought sourly to himself. But that was an argument they’d already had a few dozen times over with no change.

“Keith.”

Keith whipped his head around to snap at Allura, but realized quickly why she had whispered his name. The others were all standing up from their seats. He hastened to join, glancing toward the end of the hall where the doors had opened and the king was finally making his entrance.

And quite the entrance it was. The doors, each reaching nearly to the ceiling of the banquet hall that was easily three stories tall, had been thrown wide open, and the king entered flanked by three guards on either side of him, each in gold-plated armor polished to a gleam. The king himself was dressed even more gaudily, complete with a bejeweled crown and a very plush cape that one guard held in his hands to keep from trailing on the floor. The lining of his formal gown was just as well-decorated, and the sleek, shoulder-length cut of his dark hair left no strand out of place.

The Yuiprans were humanoid in form, if a half foot taller and with limbs just disproportionately long enough to be uncanny at a first glance. It shouldn’t have made for particularly graceful movement, but the king’s walk was practically a glide as he made his way to the head of the table and smiled at the assembled guests, slightly pointed teeth beaming alabaster white against the smooth, somewhat silvery Yuipran skin. Keith noticed that the king was surprisingly young-looking, not sharing the wrinkles and age spots borne by most of the other nobles at the banquet.

“Not bad at all,” he heard Lance mutter, and he glanced across the table toward the other paladin, who met his eyes with a raised brow and a smirk, before frowning curiously back up at the king. He supposed, objectively, that the man was good-looking, in an overly polished sort of way. Allura shushed Lance before he could say any more, although it was unnecessary, as the king was reaching his seat just feet away from the paladins, and even Lance wasn’t foolish enough to gossip about the king’s appearance this close to him.

“His majesty, King Olren of Yuipra,” one of the guards beside him announced in a booming voice that Keith was surprised didn’t blow out his eardrum.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, honored guests,” the king said, still with that broad smile. “I thank you all for your presence this evening, and for your patience. I trust that you have all enjoyed today’s entertainment, provided to you by the legendary paladins of Voltron.” He began clapping, and the other nobles quickly joined in the polite applause before he continued, “Depending on how this evening goes, this may be their first appearance of many. Our kingdom is on the verge of an historic alliance with the Voltron coalition, in defiance of the tyrannical Galra empire.” He led another round of applause, and Keith fidgeted in his stance. He just wanted to eat.

And as if reading his mind, the king continued, “But of course, that is a matter for later in the evening. I have kept you waiting for long enough. May I present to you, your dinner.”

The king clapped again, and for a moment Keith was worried that he was going to waste their time with yet another ovation, but fortunately this one seemed to be a cue for the servers to enter the banquet hall through the front entrance, bearing carts piled high with dishes whose scents had Keith’s mouth watering.

The food was passed out efficiently, and within a minute all the dishes were arranged along the table and the guests had begun digging in and passing the foods around to help themselves to servings. Olren waited until the servers had begun clearing out before taking his own seat, and the instant he did, one of his guards picked up the plate in front of him and moved down the table to start filling it.

“I do sincerely apologize for my tardiness,” Olren said, nodding to another guard who grabbed a jug from the table and started filling his goblet. “I’m afraid personal matters came up that required my attention, and following that, there seemed to be some delays in preparations for this feasts. I hope you do not think poorly of me for it.”

“Not at all,” Allura said, plastering a smile on her face. “The food looks excellent, your majesty.”

“And tastes even better,” he said. “The cooks do so spoil us at these events. Not, of course, that I would ever have it any other way,” he added with a little laugh.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Keith muttered, glancing at his oversized crown.

“Come again?” the king said.

Keith held back a wince as Allura kicked his foot beneath the table. “Keith here was just commenting on your lovely ensemble,” she said.

“Ah, yeah,” Keith agreed. “It’s, uh, very nice. Shiny.”

“Well, thank you,” Olren said, his smile broadening as he reached up to pat the crown. “You know, this is in fact the same crown that has been passed down along the family line since our old alliance with Alfor. Of course, some work has been done on it over the centuries. It’s a great deal more elaborate than it once was.”

“Doesn’t it get, like, heavy?” Keith asked.

“I suppose it would were I not accustomed to wearing it. Besides, a bit of a sore neck is a small price to pay for regality, is it not? Finery is not just for looking pretty, it is a display of our planet’s prosperity.”

Keith shrugged. “I dunno. I figure what a planet does is a lot more important than what they have.”

He was kicked again under the table as Allura hastily said, “Not that we don’t see the value in your prosperity. After all, we are in need of your resources.” She emphasized the last bit with a glance toward Keith. “I assure you, we don’t mean to criticize you for ostentation or - ”

“Really, think nothing of it,” Olren said. “I think we all feel at times that all the decorative baubles can feel a bit silly. Wouldn’t give up my favorite gems for the world, but I’m open to debate on their merit.” He laughed. “Come now, princess, mustn’t be so tense. If anything, I admire your paladin’s candor. It’s all too lacking in court at times.”

“Well, you really can’t count on Keith’s opinion for fashion and decorations and stuff anyhow,” Lance spoke up. “Keeps his whole room pretty much bare and refuses to participate in makeover nights. Me, though, I’ve always had an eye for aesthetic.”

“Do you, now?” said Olren.

“Oh yeah. I can appreciate a truly beautiful outfit, you see. And let’s talk about this gorgeous dining hall, right? I have a bit of a flair for interior design myself.”

“All you do is stick selfies all over your wall,” Keith said. “How is that interior design?”

Lance scowled. “Hey, you don’t get to have opinions on anything related to things looking nice. I swear,” he added to Olren. “This guy’s morning routine consists of two ticks with a comb and nothing else.”

“Well, there’s something to be said for natural beauty,” Olren said, casting Keith a grin and a quick wink. The latter furrowed his brow.

“Speaking of natural beauty,” Allura said, leaning between the two of them, for which Keith was grateful - the Yuiprans seemed to blink only half as much as humans, and Olren’s stare was beginning to get a little weird - “We flew past some absolutely gorgeous forests en route to your capital. How do you manage to maintain the natural landscape so near to a hub of industry?”

Olren beamed at her and quickly flew into an explanation, and Keith let his mind drift as he methodically moved food from plate to mouth. He let his eyes wander along the table to check on the other paladins. Hunk seemed to be focused entirely on the food, despite a noblewoman at his side tapping his shoulder as she spoke to him. Keith had to admire Hunk’s resilience; he himself would have slapped her hand away after a couple of ticks of that annoyance. Pidge had a group of nobles enthralled by whatever story she was telling, and although she was just far enough down the table that Keith couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, the way she talked with her hands - occasionally sending a bit of food flying off her spoon - meant she was enthusiastic about the topic, whatever it was. Electronics or physics, were Keith’s guesses. She could infodump on either for hours on end without pausing to catch her breath.

Shiro was deep in his own conversation too, with a couple of nobles across the table, although he was much more subdued than Pidge. Keith couldn’t imagine that Shiro was exactly having the time of his life here either. At events like this where the goal was coalition recruitment, he and Allura usually took on the bulk of discussing specs and logistics with their potential allies, and although Shiro didn’t make a big deal out of anything, Keith could remember how much moaning and groaning Shiro had done on those occasions where he’d been roped into attending fundraisers for the Garrison. This can’t have been very different.

After a minute or so of Keith idly watching him, Shiro finally glanced his way, and Keith made a show of yawning, expecting Shiro to perhaps give him a little smile and subtle eye roll, something to say, Yes, this is boring, we’ll all complain together once we’re back at the ship. Instead, though, Shiro just quirked a brow and tapped at the crook of his flesh arm with his metal arm.

Keith tilted his head, and Shiro just tapped again. “What?” Keith mouthed.

“Elbows,” Shiro mouthed back.

Oh. Right. He quickly took his elbows off the table; he hadn’t even realized he’d moved them. He turned to mouth an apology, but Shiro had already returned to his conversation. With a little huff, Keith jabbed his fork back into his food.

For a while, he managed to let the conversations drift around him, while his focus stayed on the meal. It was slow going, as the meat was much chewier than he would have liked - the Yuiprans definitely made good use of their sharp teeth. His attention was only pulled away when he overheard Allura say his name. “Hm?” he said, turning to her and hastily trying to swallow his bite of food.

“She wasn’t calling you, Mullet,” Lance said. “We’re just talking about weapon specialties, she said you use a sword.”

“Oh,” said Keith. “Yeah.”

“So you two both specialize in fairly close-range combat then, yes?” Olren said, eyes moving between Allura and Keith. “I must say, I’ve no end of admiration for those who are able to engage in such a thing. Yuipra’s own military has only small numbers of infantry soldiers, but I can only imagine the bravery required to go headfirst into battle that way.”

“Well, it’s not like ranged combat isn’t intense in its own way,” Lance said. “Much harder to know where your enemy’s next strike is coming from. And riflery, that takes a lot of discipline and patience to master, especially in the heat of battle.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Olren said as Lance paused to reach for his drink. He smirked before continuing, “Perhaps it just comes down more to the fact that - if I may be so bold as to say so - I quite respect a man who can so deftly handle his sword.”

Lance let out a little squawk that turned into a coughing fit, some of his drink spilling out over the edge of his glass. Keith raised a brow at him, but Olren plowed on. “Have you any other specializations, Keith? It is Keith, yes?”

“Yeah, Keith,” he said, turning back to Olren. “Uh, nah, mostly just blades. We’ve all got a good handle on aerial combat by now too, though.”

“Ah, yes, I caught some of your earlier show,” Olren said. “You’re all quite talented pilots.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, leaning back into the conversation. His voice held the slightest rasp left over from his coughing fit. “Don’t like to brag, but we’ve gotten pretty rave reviews. Think I’ve heard the word ‘miraculous’ tossed around a bit.”

“I’m not sure I recall hearing that word precisely,” Allura said. “But I must agree. The Lions are nothing short of a miracle of engineering.”

“Well, okay, but I was actually talking about my flying.”

Keith settled back into his seat, happy to let Allura and Lance take over the conversation again, even if, as the meal progressed, the king did try to pull Keith back into it a few times with questions aimed at him specifically. He managed to never trip over words, and Allura never sent him the disapproving glance that meant he’d accidentally said something rude, so all in all, he figured he could write the evening off as a success.

Of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a relief when the meal finally drew to an end and the servers began clearing the dishes away, the guests beginning to make their goodbyes.

“A pity we could not continue further,” Olren sighed amidst the sounds of chairs scraping along the floor as people began leaving their seats. “It feels to me that this meal has passed us by in mere ticks.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith said, as a courtesy only; to him, these events - feasts and banquets and all the other social obligations to which the paladins were constantly dragged - always seemed to last an eternity. He was more than ready to flop into bed and sleep off the meal.

“Well, I’ve no doubt we can find time soon to pick up our fascinating discussions,” Olren said. “For the time being, I bid you all a good night. I and my establishment will be in touch shortly to go over further details about your coalition efforts.”

“We look forward to it, your majesty,” Allura said with a quick bob of her head.

With a final smile and bow, Olren began his exit, gliding around the table toward a side entrance that two guards held open for him. As he passed behind the seats, Keith felt a sudden tickle at his neck, a chill as what he could swear were fingertips brushed playfully over the skin. He whirled around in his seat, and Olren met his eyes, casting him a smirk and coyly waving his fingers at him before turning around and striding to the door.

“Keith?” Keith turned as Allura prodded lightly at his arm. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. He rolled his shoulders and pushed his chair in before joining the others in their exit, trying to ignore the strange prickling in his spine.

#keith #vld keith #vld fic #aroace keith #voltron fic #my writing #fic: kings over aces

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mandelene · 6 years

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Tag Game

Answer 15 questions and tag 15 mutuals

Thank you to @feyna-v for tagging me!

1. Are you named after someone? No, my mom picked my name just because she liked it and it was American/English and not Polish (she didn’t want to give me a Polish name). My dad agreed to it. (My name is not Mandelene, btw).

2. When was the last time you cried? While reading the ending of Small Country by Gael Faye a few days ago.

3. Do you have kids? Nope, not yet, haha, but I hope to have kids someday if I can. Two or three but no more than three :) Idk how to explain it, but at some point within the past two years, I started feeling more...maternal toward kids, if that’s the right word for it. I just see kids on the bus and think, huh, yeah, I could have one of those, I think I might like that, God knows why.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh, boy. Yes. It’s not as obvious when I’m online, but ask my mother or my close friends and they will confirm that 90% of my daily life is spent being sarcastic. My life is just one big sarcastic meme.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? How they present themselves -- whether they’re smiling or frowning, standing up straight or slouching, etc. For men, I immediately notice how tall they are because I’m a tall woman so tall men are absolutely heavenly to look at. Any man that’s like 6′2 ft or taller and in their mid to late twenties makes my heart flutter instinctively. (This is how I know I’m definitely straight, bahahaha).

6. What’s your eye color?

Hazel. I joke that I must be adopted because my parents and sister have green eyes, but my great-grandmother had hazel eyes so I guess my parents are my parents.

7. Scary movie or happy ending? Happy ending for sure. Scary movies rarely have a storyline that I find interesting tbh.

8. Any special talents? I’ve been told I bake a fantastic coffee cake. I can recite the alphabet backwards, and I know some first-aid, but those are skills and not really talents.

9. Where were you born? I’m a Brooklyn baby. :D Brooklyn, NY.

10. What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, occasional video-making, playing with my cat, indoor cycler, casual gamer, novice yoga pupil.

11. Have you any pets? Of course. Most of you know my baby already:

Macchiato!

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

Oh, here we go. Brace yourselves for a tangent.

I was the sickly asthmatic kid who was too busy coughing up a lung to play sports, and I’m only half-joking. I played soccer a lot as a kid with my friends, but I was never on a team because my asthma was too severe and out of control for that. I’ve talked about this many times before, but I spent a good chunk of my childhood in the doctor’s office. I missed a lot of school. I got poked and prodded. I cried often about how much I hated being sick. I would be out playing with my friends and have an asthma attack in front of them and feel embarrassed. I would start wheezing and ignore it because I didn’t want everyone to make a big deal out of it. Don’t ever ignore your asthma, please. That never ends well. Sports were something I feared for years.

Midway through high school, my relationship with sports changed completely. I started seeing them as a method to improve my asthma rather than worsen it. My pulmonologist got my asthma under better control by coming up with a treatment regiment that he made sure I stuck to by lecturing my teenaged self at great length and wrote notes to my gym teachers at the start of every marking period. I slowly started regaining my confidence. My doctor made it clear that he was not excusing me from gym completely -- I had to exercise to the best of my ability without making myself sick, and if I kept getting attacks, it was back to the drawing board. If I couldn’t manage to exercise normally, then, in his view, my asthma was impeding my life too much and my medicine wasn’t working for me, which was totally true.

One of my high school gym teachers, Mr. B, was notorious for being the hardest P.E. teacher in the school. I was terrified of him. Whenever he made us run laps, I would pause when I started feeling unwell, rest for a minute, and then continue. He never said a word to me about it even though he was known for scolding students for stopping. Oddly enough, it took me a while to realize this, but he was always subtlely looking out for me. He always asked me if I had my inhaler with me at the start of class. Although I was often dead last in everything he made us do, he pretended not to notice and never commented on it. I never cheated him. If he said to do 30 laps, I would do 30 laps, even if I had to pause three times in between. Everyone else would have already moved on to other exercises while I was still doing my laps, lol, but I don’t think I ever had to reach for my inhaler. At the end of the term, he pulled me aside and told me, “I know you always tried your best, and I admire that.” He gave me an A. He was the only gym teacher I had who didn’t accuse me of making excuses or being lazy. Many previous teachers had convinced me I wasn’t trying hard enough, so I would push myself, and then I promptly proceeded to have attacks, be frustrated with myself, and end up in tears in the locker room. I needed Mr. B in my life to restore my faith in gym.

Nowadays I indoor cycle 3-4 times a week for 45 minutes to an hour to strengthen my lungs. Once a week, I have my “long tour” which is when I cycle for an hour and thirty minutes. After cycling, I lift weights for another 15-20 minutes. If I have a cold or any other upper respiratory infection, I stop all exercise until I’m well, and I hold myself to this. I have a better idea of my limits and what sports are best for me. I love swimming, but unfortunately, I don’t have a good indoor swimming pool around me, so it’s not something I can do regularly. Running/Track is still something I really struggle with, but brisk walking or hiking is fine. Last year, I was really into dance classes with my friend. Cycling is super kind to my lungs but leaves me exhausted in a good way, so that’s why it’s my favorite form of exercise. I’m sure if I did it outside though, I’d have asthma attacks. I’m generally okay with all sports/exercise as long as it doesn’t involve long stretches of running with few breaks in between, and I don’t do it outside when it’s cold. I won’t die from a light jog unless it’s the middle of January and there’s a meter of snow on the ground. You can invite me to play volleyball/basketball/tennis/whatever, and I promise I’ll be fine, haha.

I’ve also tried getting into yoga recently by following some YouTube instructors, but cycling is what I do most regularly and have stuck to. I take frequent exercise very seriously now, and I make it a priority.

13. How tall are you?

5′10 ft, so 177.8 cm. Super tall, I know. You should see my legs in yoga pants ;)

14. Favorite subject in school? In elementary school, I enjoyed English classes the most. In high school, AP comparative government in my senior year was my favorite because I love international politics. Then, there came a point in my life when I stopped liking English classes and started despising them (around my second year of university). College English consists of reading novels (which is a good start) and then writing unnecessarily long papers analyzing the novel, but if the professor doesn’t like your interpretation or analysis, they’ll deduct points. They’re not the classes you want to take if you want to actually learn how to be a better writer. They just teach you how to pander to the professor and not how to think for yourself. It’s annoying. Journalism classes get right down to the technical parts of writing and tear your sentences apart. I feel like I gain more from those classes than ones in which I have to write a ten-page essay on the symbolism of a key.

15. Dream job? A few years ago, I would have said “reporter for the New York Times,” and while that would be incredible, I have multiple dream jobs now.

I would still love to work at a media outlet. I’d want to either work at the international desk as a writer/reporter or work on digital content like podcasts or short documentaries. However, I can also picture myself working at an NGO or at a think tank. I might also be interested in doing something in government someday--anything that has a direct impact on getting involved in a community. Global politics and writing are my two biggest passions, so if I end up doing work in either of those areas, I’ll be happy.

Ideally, I can continue writing fiction on the side and publish it someday, but that’s still a dream I have to work my way up to.

I don’t want to leave anybody out, so if you’re reading this and you want to answer it, consider yourself tagged by me! :)

#tag game

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name-me-regret · 4 years

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Till I Touch The Sky - 9/9

Till I Touch The Sky Chapter Nine: An Awfully Big Adventure

Read on AO3.

FANFICTION MASTERPOST 1 FANFICTION MASTERPOST 2

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Remember not to get too close to stars They're never gonna give you love like ours

Where did you go? I should know, but it's cold And I don't wanna be lonely So show me the way home I can't lose another life...

The world's a little blurry Or maybe it's my eyes The friends I've had to bury They keep me up at night Said I couldn't love someone 'Cause I might break If you're gonna die, not by mistake...

I just wanted to protect you But now I'll never get to...”

~ilomilo - Billie Eilish

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

August 8, 2015, Saturday, 10:25am

Peter was really nervous. While normally he’d be nervous because Riley was going to come over and they wouldn’t have any adult supervision, but that wasn’t the case this time around. He thought that the other was going to ask him how he’d known that Chris had killed Hailey. When the police had asked him, he’d told them that he had found the video-feed. They couldn’t check if it was true, since the laptop (which was a piece of shit he’d built from used parts while dumpster diving) had been destroyed in the struggle.

So, they’d given him the benefit of the doubt and checked the apartment. They’d found the video-feed and the cameras as well, and it had footage up to week after the murder before it’d run out of storage. Now there was no more doubt. Christopher had killed Hailey Jones.

The only problem was Riley, who had to know that Peter had been asleep. So, now Riley was going to come over, and Peter didn’t know what he was going to say to him. Should he tell him the truth, or stick to the story he’d given the cops and Mr. Stark? And another thing, he’d lied to May, and Mr. Stark! If they ever found out, they’d be so disappointed in Peter!

The ding of the elevator had him sitting up where he’d been slouching on the couch, his heart starting to speed up with his anxiety. He listened for the other and heard a dual thump of his crutches on the floor. Riley came into view a few moments later, supporting himself with two crutches, with his knee was in a brace because it had gotten fractured. He’d told Peter the doctor had said to keep off that leg, hence the crutches.

Once more he wondered what he was going to say to him as the other moved over to where Peter was fidgeting on the couch. If he told him the truth, would Riley believe him? And what’s more, would he have to confess all the times he’d invaded his and Hailey’s privacy? Peter might have thought they were dreams, but what about afterwards when he’d snuck a peek at his phone and listened to conversations that he wasn’t privy to? He’d have to tell him that he was no better than Chris when he’d put up those cameras to spy on them in their own home.

Riley dropped his bag on the seat before he plopped down on the couch beside him, leaning toward Peter as he set his crutches aside. He smelled good, most likely having showered before coming here and the younger boy nervously pulled at a loose string on his pants where they’d ripped at the knee. Riley gave a tired sigh that didn’t feel right coming from someone that was only sixteen years old.

He’d had a birthday on the 20th of last month, but Riley hadn’t wanted to celebrate it. Now, Peter’s own birthday was in two days and he understood him so well now, and wondered why he hadn’t at the time. Peter didn’t want to celebrate his birthday either.

“Hey,” Riley murmured as he graced him with a small smile that sent his heart aflutter with giddy nerves. His shoulder pressed against Peter’s own shoulder. The feel of his warm, solid body was comforting to Peter.

“Hi,” he whispered, since his throat was still raw and caused him pain if he spoke for too long. Dr. Cho had said that it’d be tender for a while yet, and he was only allowed liquids and soft foods for right now. Which was a bummer, since he wanted some Cool Ranch Nachos, badly. The bruises were still there but in another two weeks they’d likely have faded away.

Peter hesitantly reached out to brush his fingers along the brace. “How are you?” he rasped, voice wavering.

Riley’s larger hand caught his and Peter’s heart felt like it was at his throat, especially as he interlaced their fingers. “Just a bit sore,” he reassured. His eyes lingered on Peter’s throat, green eyes dark with an emotion Peter couldn’t identify. “And you... how’s..?”

“Fine,” he sighed hoarsely, even if he felt far from it. He didn’t want Riley to worry about him, didn’t think he deserved it.

“I have something for you.” He pulled his hand away to Peter’s disappointment, and unzipped his backpack and pulled something out. “Good, it didn’t get smooshed.” Riley turned back and held out a clear plastic disposable container that had a chocolate cupcake with white frosting and multicolor sprinkles on it. He put it on his hand, and then grabbed a single candle and pushed it into the soft cupcake.

Peter was surprised as he stared at the small confectionary, watching as Riley lit the single candle with a lighter he’d gotten from somewhere. “May said you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday because of everything that happened.” He paused a moment to turn away to hastily wipe his eyes, knowing the thought of his sister still brought him to tears and likely would for a long time. “And then last month... I was cruel to you.”

Peter shook his head quickly. “Nonono, it’s alright, Riley,” he squeaked, wincing a moment later as his throat hurt.

He’d been trying to cheer up Riley for his birthday, and honestly, he hadn’t even thought of how this would be the first birthday he’d spend without Hailey. Peter had bought him a small cupcake almost identical to the one Riley was giving Peter now, single candle and all. He’d smiled wanly, feeling tired and lethargic from the days spent being unable to sleep too well. He attributed this as the reason of not thinking his plan through.

“Happy birthday, make a wish,” he said as he held out the cupcake with the candle lit.

Riley had stared at it for several moments in silence, that Peter shifted awkwardly. Then he’d reached out and taken it from him, green eyes filled with so much grief that Peter felt like he’d committed a grave sin by doing this, even if he’d only wanted to make him smile.

“I wish...” he choked, hand starting to crush the soft pastry. “I wish my sister wasn’t dead.” Then he dropped the ruined cupcake on the floor and looked into Peter’s wide brown eyes. “Do you think my wish will come true?”

He’d turned and walked off, Peter dropping to his knees, wiping at the tears running down his face as he cleaned up the mess with shaking hands. Peter didn’t want Mr. Stark to come in and see this mess.

Peter hadn’t seen Riley the rest of the day, not even the next morning. He did, however, find a plate of waffles in the microwave wrapped in Saran-wrap and his name on a sticky note tapped to the microwave door so he knew to look there.

He’d taken it as the only kind of apology the older boy could give him at the time.

Now, Riley squeezed his hand gently as he no doubt remembered the memory as well. “No, it’s not alright, Pete,” he said firmly. “I... I made you cry, and that’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”

Peter nodded, to show he accepted his apology as he gnawed on his bottom lip, conflicted about a lot of things. This was a nice gesture, especially after Riley, in his grief, had mistreated Peter who he’d been trying to make him feel a bit better. And he wanted to be happy, he was happy, but wondered how he could allow himself to be happy when Hailey was gone.

He lifted his head to say something, wishing his voice didn’t sound so wrecked, and his breath caught in his throat as he found Riley too close to him. The taller boy kept leaning into his personal space until he was pressing his mouth to his cheek, at the corner of his mouth. Peter had a feeling of deja vu, and realized he hadn’t imagined that kiss when he’d been in the ICU.

“Happy birthday, Pete,” Riley murmured, looking into his face as brown and green eyes met.

Peter swallowed even if it was painful. “I-it’s Monday,” he croaked, not really knowing what else to say. He was half-terrified, half-excited the other would lean the last few inches and give him a real kiss.

A slight smirk lifted Riley’s lips. “Well, I’m waiting until you’re at least fifteen before I kiss you for real... you’re still fourteen, after all.”

Peter squeaked in embarrassment and didn’t even care that his throat hurt because Riley laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed since Hailey had died.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

August 10, 2015, Monday, 1:14pm

Even if he hadn’t wanted to celebrate his birthday, Mr. Stark had insisted that they had to, because as he said ‘it’s not every day you turn fifteen’. He hadn’t protested too much, feeling still a bit lethargic and his throat was still tender. So, he couldn’t talk much, only smile as people came over to congratulate him.

Ned was there, since he was his only friend and so was Riley even if he mostly kept to himself. Peter tried not to look at him too eagerly, remembering his words from two days ago. The other had glanced at Peter and given him that smirk to show he remembered as well, but thus far he hadn’t approached him besides to hand him a small box wrapped in festive paper.

Since he didn’t have many friends, Mr. Stark had invited a few people he knew, including the SWAT team that had shown up at the apartment the day of the attack. The big blonde man that had first came in, whose name was Steve, and another long haired man whose had introduced himself as Bucky. There was an even bigger man with long blonde hair that had insisted Peter call him Thor. They were like insanely good-looking and Peter was glad he couldn’t speak, or he’d have made a fool of himself. He’d only smiled in thanks when they’d wished him a happy birthday and handed him some money which he’d put on a pin that Mr. Stark had insisted he wear.

Then there was the rest of the team, which included an intimidating blonde haired woman named Natasha, a red haired fairly young woman named Wanda, and then the stoic Vision (yes, that was their actual name), Sam who’d been friendly yet teasing.

There was an Air Force colonel named James Rhodes that had insisted he call him Uncle Rhodey, which was a bit confusing. He’d said that Tony spoke of Peter so often that he felt he already knew Peter, and Peter had flushed in embarrassment even as he beamed happily. He was Mr. Stark’s best friend. “We’re more like brothers, really,” the man had said. Now he kind of understood why he wanted him to call him Uncle and it made his heart warm in his chest.

The best surprise was when he got to meet Dr. Bruce Banner! He’d known that Mr. Stark worked with him on several projects before, but he’d never expected him to be at Peter’s impromptu birthday party. Peter wished he could speak without his voice breaking and hurting, so he could have asked him questions (and he had so many questions).

Without even realizing it, he was having the best time, when before he hadn’t wanted to celebrate his birthday, now he was enraptured as he listened to a Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark (didn’t he also have a PhD??) talk science. He understood a lot of what they were saying, and when he managed to ask a question, which he was immediately chastised for straining his throat, the men paused to think. Mr. Stark actually took his phone out and typed it up. “That’s a good idea, kid. If this pans out, I’ll give you credit.”

Peter beamed past his bashful blush, happy that he’d actually had an idea that Mr. Stark had thought had merit. And Dr. Banner wanted to talk about his medical webbing when his throat was all healed up. So, he was over the moon, obviously.

He was bummed out when May came to drag him away for pictures and cake, but managed to overhear Mr. Stark boast to Dr. Banner. “I told you my kid was smart, Brucie bear,” he said, pride in his voice. Peter’s smile could have lit the entire room after that, wearing it for most of the pictures May took, and Peter hoped they didn’t come out weird looking.

As May started handing out pieces of the fairly large chocolate and strawberry glaze cake, Peter saw Riley wave him over. Peter felt goosebumps raise along his arms, but in a good way. He walked toward him, forcing himself not to rush over too eagerly, but his heart was definitely rushing. And it jump started into a frenzy when Riley motioned for them to go through the doors of the outdoor roof terrace.

There were some nice outdoor durable seats surrounding a low table, and it was under a pergola that had Zéphirine Drouhin Climbing Roses (Miss Potts had told him) wrapping along it that provided shade during the daytime. This had become one of his favorite places to be, since it made him feel a little bit less like a prisoner. There was also several plants, a garden really, and at times Peter took over watering them if he was up late or if a nightmare woke him super early.

Peter started to panic as Riley closed the door behind him, wondering what he was supposed to do. Should he ask if he could sit in the seat meant for two, or would that be too embarrassing? Then he had a horrible thought... what if his breath stunk? Then he started to think of when was the last time he’d brushed his teeth (which was this morning), and then tried to remember what he’d eaten and if it would make his breath not pleasant.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump and looked at Riley who was looking down at him in bemusement. “Calm down, Pete,” he said with a slight upturning of his lips. “You act like you’ve never been kissed before.”

Peter knew his voice would crack if he tried to speak, and his throat was already hurting with all the strain he’d put on it today, so he nodded his head in affirmative instead of answering. Riley was surprised by that. “Seriously? Never?”

When Peter meekly nodded a yes again, Riley sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair that was starting to get pretty long. “So, it’s likely that you’ll never forget it then, huh?” The younger teen shook his head in a definite no, making Riley groan. “So, no pressure,” he chuckled sardonically.

Peter frowned, moving to step away since he didn’t want Riley to feel pressured to do this. He could just have his first kiss with someone else, even if he really wanted it to be Riley. “No, sorry,” Riley said, catching his bicep. Although, Peter would argue about the name since he had no muscles whatsoever.

Peter’s head titled curiously, hoping he could understand him without words. “I want to kiss you... like, a lot, but I just... I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

Peter felt his face warming even as he shook his head again. “You won’t,” he croaked, hand going to his neck a second later.

Riley sighed and reached out, taking his hand. “I will.” He pulled him along and took him to sit in the chairs underneath the pergola, the roses making the dark wood of the structure really stand out. “Listen, I was planning on doing this another day, but maybe it’s better to tell you now.” He turned away as he looked out over the rooftop terrace, which was also a rooftop garden combined with it. “I don’t want to lead you on.”

The fifteen year old already felt his heart starting to break, thinking he was going to tell him that he was seeing that other boy, Evan. So, did that mean he’d been playing with Peter? Would Riley be so cruel as to do that?

“Pete,” he said quietly, waiting until he was looking at him, “I’m moving.”

Peter blinked nonplussed, the words not registering for a moment, and then they were like a bucket of cold water as he flinched. “What?” he whispered, the devastation clear in his voice.

Riley nodded sadly. “Mom told me yesterday... she doesn’t want to stay here anymore,” he muttered. “She said she doesn’t want to risk that... bastard taking another shot at me.” He tentatively took both his hands, long fingers gripping his smaller ones. “So... maybe it’s better that I don’t ruin your first kiss, knowing I’m leaving.”

He pulled one hand away to wipe at his face, realizing he’d started to cry. “When-?” Peter gasped, unable to day more, and even had to use his inhaler from getting worked up. Riley squeezed the hand he was still holding, waiting until he’d calmed before speaking again.

“Next week,” he murmured, leaning down to look into his face. “She’s already hired the movers to start packing our stuff.” His eyes looked at his hands, Riley having taken the other once more after he’d finished with his inhaler. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

Peter sniffled and nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he whispered, not wanting to have the other kiss him and then break his heart when he left.

“Okay, Pete,” he said, pulling him into a hug. Peter held onto Riley tightly, and his heart was breaking either way.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

August 18, 2015, Tuesday, 5:30pm

Riley kissed Peter’s forehead before he got in the cab with his mom, then it pulled away. May wrapped her arms around Peter and both watched as it turned the corner, and then they were gone.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

August 30, 2015, Sunday, 12:17pm

Peter felt like he was drowning, even as he went out onto the rooftop terrace, he felt like the walls were closing in around him. He hadn’t been allowed to leave the tower since the end of July, and he was ready to rip his hair out. The only good thing was that school started in nine days, and finally he would be able to leave.

Sure, Happy would drop him off and pick him up, but he would be able to go outside. At least he’d be able to leave the prison the tower had become. While he knew it was for his safety, it didn’t really help that much in the long run.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

September 6, 2015, Sunday, 2:36am

Peter couldn’t breathe, feeling his throat closing up as his lungs burned, and he scrambled for his inhaler, pulling it out and uncapping it, shaking it a few times before he brought it to his mouth. The pressure on his airway relieved a bit but not by much, and knew that with his injury from being assaulted by Chris and the damage done by his sabotage, he’d have a hard time recovering.

When it didn’t get better, he pressed the button on his watch that Mr. Stark had given him for emergencies. It would alert the man that he was in trouble and it would give him his exact location.

The door slammed open moments later, and Mr. Stark was there. “Peter!” his mentor’s desperate, fear-filled voice was the last thing he heard as he felt everything fade around him.

7:42am Peter felt awareness return to him, groaning softly as he shifted his tired body and tried to make sense about where he was and what had happened. There was the beeping of a heart monitor and the hissing of a machine that he knew he recognized, but couldn’t place it in that moment.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, he wasn’t too surprised to see that he was in the medical floor of the tower. They should just put a plaque on the bed with his name on it.

He flinched when he realized he had a plastic mask on his face and he ripped it off, not caring as he scratched his face in his haste. Peter tossed it away from him, shaking in the bed as he stared down at it. The memory of Chris sabotaging his nebulizer to kill him flashed in his mind, and then of what had happened to poor Hailey when she came upon him.

...he could feel Chris’s hands around his throat... ‘You’re a useless waste of space,’ the man snarled, fingers squeezing the life out of him.

Mr. Stark found him on his side a few moments later in the middle of a panic attack, and he talked him down until he’d calmed. Peter refused to go back on oxygen and to restart his nightly treatments, no matter how much May begged. Every time he put it on, he remembered the man’s hands around his throat and he couldn’t handle it.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

September 8, 2015, Tuesday, 4:27pm

“What’s this?” he asked Mr. Stark we he brought him a case. It had Stark Industries on the side of it in shiny letters.

Tony took the case and showed him the panel on the side of it. “This scans your finger print and your retina before it’ll open.” He urged him to do that and when his thumb had been scanned and retina read, the high-tech case popped open. There was a sleek looking nebulizer inside, also with the SI logo on it. “I know you don’t like nebulizers with a mask, so I made this for you,” he told him.

Another scan of his thumb made the machine open to reveal the standard nebulizer equipment, but this one had a mouth piece and not a mask. He smiled at the teenager, who was staring at the machine with awe.

“I-I didn’t know SI made these types of nebulizers,” he said quietly.

Tony shrugged as he turned away in embarrassment. “They didn’t... but I thought... you’d feel safer if it had some protections,” he said.

“You... you did this for me?” Peter asked, his voice wobbling.

“Well, yeah... you’re my kid,” Tony said simply.

Peter practically threw himself at the man then, hugging him as hard as he could, but Tony didn’t complain once.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

October 25, 2015, Sunday

“What?” Peter asked, not believing this. “What do you mean I can’t go?”

It was the weekend before Halloween, and this year it was lucky that Halloween would fall on the weekend. They were having a special haunted house that was going to be set up on the south side of Sheep Meadow in Central Park for three days, which was on the 29th, 30th and the 31st.

Peter and his friends had been planning to go on Friday, since there was sure to be way too many people that last day. He’d gone through his idea to talk more to MJ and it turns out that she was a pretty cool person. She already sat next to them during lunch, so striking up a conversation with her was easier and he liked her sarcastic attitude.

So, now they were a trio, and at times they turned into a six group thing because MJ got along fairly well with Liz and Betty and they’d sometimes sit with them. Then, for some reason Flash would also wander over and sit with them, and it was likely because all of them were part of the Academic Decathlon Team, and they had impromptu mini-meetings during lunch. They’d then review after school with the members that didn’t share lunch with them.

Peter wondered when it gone from just Ned and him, to a group of six friends and teammates. Even Flash had calmed down on his name calling when MJ had told him off, and in turn Liz had told him that she’d have no members of the team bullying other members. Flash sulked for a bit but then he’d come around, especially when with Liz’s help, he’d started to get more questions right instead of wrong.

So, they’d planned on all six of them going on Friday after school to the haunted house in their costumes. However, May and Mr. Stark had just told him that he couldn’t go. Apparently, someone matching Chris’s description had been spotted skulking around the tower, but when security had gone to investigate, he’d been nowhere to be seen. The cameras on the tower were too far to properly make out his face, but Mr. Stark was very sure it was him.

“I can’t live my life fearing he’s going to attack me,” he snapped, angry that this would lead to him being confined once again to the tower like the past summer. While he loved being close to his mentor (that he saw more and more like a father), he didn’t want to just be stuck inside with no hope of leaving. He needed to get out and just try to be a regular teenager. Peter already had his asthma, and now the damage done to his lungs and throat due to Chris. He didn’t want the man to dictate anymore of his life.

“It’s too dangerous,” May said firmly. Peter knew she meant well, but he was angry that he couldn’t go to a haunted house because they had thought they’d seen that asshole Chris, who’d likely left New York anyways. So, he scoffed and walked off, slamming his bedroom door closed.

He was going to go to the haunted house, even if he had to sneak out.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

October 30, 2015 Friday, 6:17pm

He waited until he knew May would be at work and Mr. Stark had a meeting. The man had left Happy watching him, but the man had been called by Pepper for something and told him to stay put. “Where would I go? You have the elevator being monitored,” Peter mumbled. The man didn’t know that he knew the code for the private elevator in Tony’s penthouse though. As soon as he’d left, he would go upstairs and take the private elevator to the garage.

“Alright, twerp, don’t make me regret leaving you alone,” he said, turning and leaving the room.

Peter felt slightly guilty, since he knew he would regret it, but that didn’t stop him from jumping off the couch as soon as he heard the of the elevator doors closing and sped walked toward the stairs that led to Tony’s penthouse, where he’d take the elevator. It felt like an invasion of privacy to enter Mr. Stark’s private rooms, but he was only using the elevator.

He made it to the street without being stopped, counting it as a win and hailed a cab around the corner since he didn’t think he’d make it to the train, especially since he was already winded. Peter had made sure to take his portable nebulizer, since he couldn’t take his oxygen tank due to not being able to fit his costume inside of the backpack that had his oxygen tank. So, he made sure he was dropped off as close as possible, which was the west side of Central Park, close to Tavern On The Green. Peter made sure not to hurry despite wanting to get to his friends quickly before they went into the haunted house without him. He followed the signs for the haunted house, even if he knew where Sheep Meadow was located, starting to feel excited as he looked around for Ned and the others.

“Peter!” he heard Ned call his name, and he saw him and the rest of the team. A smile lifted his lips as he saw them, laughing a bit at the costumes they had on.

Ned, of course, was dressed as Han Solo, and when he turned to say something to the others, he saw a sign that read ‘I Shot First’ pinned to his back. Peter grinned at that, knowing his and Ned’s outrage of them having changed that. MJ’s hair was made up into an Afro (or was it a wig?) and she had on a dress that looked to be from either the 70s or 80s. He’d ask her who she was supposed to be later, but for now looked at the rest of them.

Liz had on a black and gold sequin 20s Flapper dress, hair pinned up with a feather in it. Betty had on a Mario costume, but a skirt instead of pants and it looked good on them. It was Flash that had him stumped for a moment as he saw him in an all dark purple suit and what looked like a fez on his head. As he got closer and saw Lobby Boy on it, he realized why the costume had looked familiar; it was Zero from The Grand Budapest Hotel.

He had his own costume in his bag, which was a full body Chewbacca costume that matched with Ned’s Han Solo one. It had been expensive, but he’d been saving up since last Halloween, and they’d wear it again in December when the new Star Wars movie came out. Peter hadn’t changed before leaving since he would have drawn more attention to himself, so he was wearing a red striped t-shirt, with a dark blue faded hoodless jacket over it that only had a zipper that went to about chest level, and a pair of blue jeans. He hadn’t had time to even comb his hair, so his brown curls were a bit tousled.

As he was about to go change into his costume in the bathroom, a hand caught hold of his arm and he flinched as he turned, but it wasn’t who he expected. It was Mr. Stark and he looked absolutely livid. “What the hell are you thinking?” the man snapped angrily.

Peter opened and closed his mouth in surprise, since while he’d seen Mr. Stark angry before, he had never been angry at him. “H-how’d you find me so fast?” he blurted instead of apologizing as he’d been intending. And really, the man had gotten here way too fast, thinking he’d have at least had enough time to go through the haunted house once before he was busted.

The man looked unimpressed by his question. “You used my elevator, it sends an alert to my phone whenever it gets used if I’m not there,” he told him. His friends had seen the man with Peter and were making their way over toward them. “I told you it was too dangerous to go, and still, you hacked my private elevator so you could go behind my back to put your own safety and health at risk!”

“I didn’t hack it,” he told him. “I figured out the code.” Peter pulled his arm away, sick and tired of being treated like he was going to break. He hadn’t asked to be sick, and now Mr. Stark was treating him like an invalid that couldn’t go out by himself. Petet knew he’d acted rashly, but he and Ned had been planning this since last year. There hadn’t been talk of a haunted house, but they had definitely been planning their costumes since last year, both of them having a love for Star Wars.

“As if that’s any better,” the man hissed. “Look at you, you can barely breathe.” He pulled the backpack he hadn’t even realized he had off his back, and saw it was Peter’s oxygen tank.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Although, he was indeed starting to feel lightheaded, but he wasn’t going to admit the man was right. If he did, then he’d have to admit that being locked up was the right thing too. And perhaps he hadn’t thought this through, but he was just so tired of being afraid and putting his life on hold because of it.

Mr. Stark snorted. “Yeah, I can certainly see you have it all under control,” he said sarcastically. He’d never been on the receiving end of the man’s sharp tongue, and he found that he didn’t like it.

The teenager was forced to use his inhaler, as if proving Mr. Stark’s point. “I’m sick of being locked up,” he said after he’d recovered. “I told you that Ned and I were planning this for a whole year, but you and May didn’t even care. You say you wanna protect me, but your idea of protecting me is to keep my locked up like a prisoner!”

“Because that bastard is still out there-”

“No, he’s not!” Peter cut him off. “You just think he’s still here, but he’s probably long gone by now!”

Mr. Stark was getting more angrier, he could tell, but Peter wasn’t going to back down. If he did, he’d wind up not being able to leave the tower for the rest of the weekend and any other weekend for the foreseeable future. “Because you know this for a fact? After all, what do I know compared to a fifteen year old kid, right?” He pointed at his friends that had reached them by this point, MJ and Liz glancing at the man, Ned looking at his friend who was looking down with embarrassment at being grilled in front of his friends. “And you’re also putting your friends in danger if Christopher shows up!”

Peter cringed as he said that, not even having thought of that. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t-”

“No, this is where you zip it,” Mr. Stark snapped, “the adult is talking!”

The adolescent nodded, not able to even look at his friends in that moment. “You’re going back to the tower right now,” he said, grabbing his backpack from him that he’d taken off his shoulders in anticipation of going to change into his costume.

“I mean, he’s already here, Mr. Stark,” Ned spoke up, and Peter glanced at him gratefully as he tried to discreetly wipe at his eyes. The others noticed but didn’t comment on it, even Flash. Peter knew that there was more to the other than what he showed, and since they’d started to hang out more, he knew that things weren’t perfect at home. “Maybe we could go through the haunted house one time?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t reward bad behavior,” he told the other.

Peter snatched his bag back, having had enough of being embarrassed in front of his friends. “I can do what I want! You’re not my father!” Peter told him.

He wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them at seeing the hurt on the man’s face, but he couldn’t. “You’re right,” he man said, voice gruff with emotion. “Because no child of mine would be so stupid as to endanger their safety, as well as the safety of others!”

The words were like a stab right through his heart, and he knew he deserved it. He’d started to delude himself into thinking that the man could be more than a mere mentor. That even if he’d wanted the man to be his father, he knew that he wasn’t.

Peter couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his mouth as he turned and rushed off, ashamed of himself and the trouble he’d caused Mr. Stark and his friends. He ran blindly through the crowd of people that were around them, more than their group had anticipated on a Friday, and it was starting to get dark. Peter thought he heard Mr. Stark call his name, but he didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to be alone and cry, and when he’d calmed down, maybe he’d be able to face the man then.

He didn’t get too far, crouched down as he leaned against the back of the haunted house as he tried to catch his breath, wiping his face of the tears that refuse to stop. It was a few minutes before he was finally able to calm down. He heard the crunch of leaves and sighed, and should have known that it wouldn’t take long for Mr. Stark to find him. “M’sorry, Mr. Stark,” he sniffled, lifting his face to look at the man as he stopped in front of him. “I-“

The cold hand of terror gripped his heart when he realized it wasn’t Mr. Stark, it was Christopher. He opened his mouth to cry out or scream for help, but his hand shot out and clamped over Peter’s mouth with a bruising grip. “Ah ah,” the man chuckled, “no ruining the fun.”

He forcibly dragged Peter up and then pulled him away from the haunted house, his backpack still on the ground but the man kicked it to the side. Neither noticed the dark-skinned girl in the Afro wig watching from the corner. She pulled out her phone and dialed, not 911, but another number.

“Hello, who is this?” a voice snapped.

“Track my phone, Stark. Some guy just made off with Peter, and I’m pretty sure it’s Chris.” The man cursed on the other end, but MJ was too busy hurrying after the two retreating figures before she lost sight of them. 8:25pm Peter was crying the whole time the man is dragging him further into the park, trying to keep quiet. Usually, he’d have been shouting for help, but the first time he’d tried, the press of cold steal had dried the words in his throat. “If you scream, I’ll slit your fucking throat,” the man had snarled in his ear.

So, he’d wisely kept his mouth shut even as tears continued to run down his face as he stumbled beside him as the man continued to yank him along. He’d tripped a few times accidentally, and once or twice intentionally, hoping that maybe he’d be able to get loose. However, Chris had just forcibly dragged him back up without once releasing his grip on him. He tried not to think of where the man was taking him, scared of what was going to happen to him once they reached their destination.

Before when the man had attacked him, he’d had Riley with him and he wasn’t completely alone, so he’d had enough courage to fight the man. Now, he was utterly alone and the fear froze his limbs and his brain.

“Please, let me go,” Peter whimpered, feeling his chest squeezing in what was most likely a panic attack instead of an asthma attack.

His fingers tightened around his arm painfully, knowing he’d have bruises there later. “No, I’m not going to do that. We’re going to have some fun, bud,” he taunted. He felt his grip get tighter whenever they passed someone, feeling the sharp prick or something at his back in warning. So, he kept his mouth shut even if he wanted to shout for someone to help him.

He couldn’t even look behind them, the other forcing him to walk just a little in front of him, but the sounds of people walking past them started to die down as the sun had gone completely down. Even then, the sound of the trees moving in the breeze and their own footsteps crunching over fallen leaves was loud in his ears. They weren’t taking the normal path, making sure to stick to the trees that surrounded Sheep Meadow and at one point they came out onto Heckscher Ballfields, but he’d forced them into the streets as they went south.

They’d gone around the ballfields when the first indication that they were being followed caught the man’s attention, and Peter wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified to see MJ. Chris saw her two and then he was bringing the knife in his hand up to his throat, making the dark-skinned girl freeze. “Go back, little girl,” he growled, “or I’ll cut his throat.”

MJ’s eyes were wide as she lifted her hands, not able to do anything but watch Chris continue to drag Peter away through the trees toward Rat Rock, or Umpire Rock. “Michelle!” a voice called and she turned to see Tony Stark rush out of the trees, followed by a man in police riot gear. “Where-?”

She pointed toward Umpire Rock. “That way... he has a knife at his throat,” she told him, voice shaking slightly in fear for her friend.

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Steve,” he said as he looked at the blonde man. Steve nodded and spoke into the radio, calling for his team to converge on and surround Umpire Rock. He paused as he lifted his phone, Peter’s emergency signal starting to beep and he must have been able to push the button without Chris realizing it. “Stay here,” Stark told her, then both men rushed off.

As they came within sight of Rat Rock, Tony’s heart just about stopped in his chest when he saw the bastard with his kid in his arm, the blade of a very sharp looking knife at his vulnerable throat. “Peter!” The teenager sobbed in relief when he saw him, calling his name. Christopher dragged him back, further up the gargantuan rock, and Tony could hear Steve talking into the radio behind him.

“Let the boy go!” Steve called, “you’re surrounded!”

“Get back! I’ll cut his fucking throat! Get back!” Chris screamed, pulling the crying teenager closer against him, using him as a shield.

Steve cursed under his breath, knowing it would be hard to get a shot with all the trees that surrounded Umpire Rock. He had been on the radio with the snipers, Fury having brought them in as soon as he knew the threat to a child’s life. They’d been ordered to take out the suspect if they had a clear shot, but it’d be a difficult shot. Besides, that knife was pressing mighty close to the boy’s neck, and they couldn’t risk shooting him and the suspect jerked with the knife so close to his throat.

He had no choice to call back some of his team, Tony looking at him in disbelief. “He’ll hurt Peter if I don’t,” he told him. “Bucky has him in his sights,” he reassured him. Steve knew if anyone had a chance of getting the shot, it’d be his friend, who was the best sniper they had.

Meanwhile, up on the large rock, Chris ducked down to whisper in Peter’s ear. “See, no one is going to save you,” he snarled.

Peter felt the pressure slacken on his throat and knew it was now or never, lifting his hand and shoving Chris’s arm up to get the knife further away. Then he jerked his head back, hearing the crunch of the man’s nose breaking as he head butted him.

The man howled in pain and Peter tried to duck to avoid Chris’s wild grab, and he suddenly heard a sharp pop and the whiz of something passing at high-speeds. Chris made a choking sound as Peter felt his hand close around the collar of his jacket, and he gave a cry as he was yanked back with the man as he toppled off Umpire Rock.

He saw the sky, blocked by the branches of the trees, and then the ground rushed up to meet him. Peter felt agony explode in his head before everything went dark.

Peter gasped as he stumbled to the side, hand going to is head, but there was nothing there; he was fine! At least, that’s what he thought until he turned and froze as he saw himself, laying next to a clearly dead Christopher, and there was so much blood. Peter couldn’t tell where it was coming from; Chris’s head that had a hole between his eyes, or his own head that had impacted a rock on the way down.

‘I’m... I’m dead?’ he whispered, staring in horror at his body. His eyes were drawn away from himself and to a figure standing where the man lay, and realized it was Chris. He looked unharmed, but... he was see through and the link connecting him to his body had been severed.

‘What the fuck?’ the man gasped, staring down in horror at his dead body.

‘You’re dead, Chris,’ he called out. The man’s eyes snapped toward him, widening before looking down at Peter’s body. They both stepped back as several police officers and a medical team rushed toward their bodies. They didn’t notice the shadows starting to gather.

‘We’re dead?’ Chris asked, a grin lifting his lips. ‘You’re dead too.’

“I got a pulse!” one of the EMTs shouted that was working on Peter.

Peter grinned at the man. ‘No, I’m alive.’

The man —or rather, the ghost that had once been a man— gave a growl and moved toward him with hands outstretched, and Peter stepped back in alarm. Before he could touch him, however, the shadows were suddenly upon Chris, a horrible sound like moaning coming from them. Peter covered his ears to try and block out the horrible sound.

‘What... what is that?’ Chris demanded.

Peter watched with wide eyes, not even paying attention to the living people starting to load his body onto a stretcher. He was too busy staring at the things that started to grab Chris, the man shouting in terror. ‘GET AWAY! NO!’

The teenager couldn’t tear his eyes away from them as they dragged the protesting Chris deeper into the shadows cast by the trees that surrounded them, and the night that appeared more sinister now. He had tried to stay still and quiet the whole time, not wanting them to see him, but several paused and glanced at him. At least, he thought they did, but he couldn’t see any faces on them that he could tell.

They were suddenly moving toward him as Peter felt fear fill him, and the closer they got, the clearer he could see them. Some appeared to be wearing clothes from the past, tattered and dirty. They appeared thin and sickly looking, and their eyes were a soulless black that terrified him. When they reached out to touch him, Peter screamed, and he was suddenly moving.

He staggered, looking around frantically as he tried to see if those things were anywhere. Peter was confused when he realized he wasn’t in Central Park anymore... he was... in his apartment? He was baffled, not knowing how he’d managed to get here. His hands moved over himself, but there was nothing wrong with him that he could see.

Peter realized that he’d jumped again, like in the hospital when he’d met Wade. He wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but only feeling terrified and wanting to be somewhere safe. The fifteen year old guessed that he still, on some level, thought this place was safe. Even if Chris had killed Hailey here...

The boy froze as he turned toward the hallway that led to his room, thinking he saw something. He knew he shouldn’t go, that it was dangerous, but he had to know. ‘Hailey?’ Peter called, voice trembling.

A soft sobbing reached his ears as he got closer, his eyes darting around the hallway as he entered it. His heart would have been pounding really fast if he had a heart in that moment, and even if he didn’t have a body, he felt himself shaking. The light of his aura was quivering as well, causing the walls to feel like they were moving.

Peter bit back a cry as a person came out of the door at the end of the hallway, his bedroom. The figure was unmistakable, who was weeping quietly and wearing the clothes in the memory he’d gotten from Chris before he’d killed her; a pair of blue jean shorts with a white short-sleeved shirt with a bleeding black and yellow heart on it, and some black vans.

Hailey was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, her shoulder length hair and attractive freckled face just like Peter remembered. ‘Where are you, Riley?’ she sobbed in a haunting voice that made Peter stagger back as she came closer.

‘Hailey,’ he wept as she got closer. ‘He’s gone... he left.’

Her face contorted in anger at his words, and unexpectedly lunged at him. Peter suddenly remembered Wade’s words.

‘If you let them in, they’ll attach themselves to you like leeches, sucking away at your aura, you life... Don’t touch them, don’t talk to them. Don’t even look at them.’

‘Give him back to me!’ she shrieked, and he could feel her hands grab hold of him, and it hurt. He screamed as she tried to move her face closer to his.

’Hailey, please!’ he cried out, trying to dislodge her as they fell to the floor, the same floor where Chris had strangled her. ‘Chris... he hurt you! But he’s dead!’

He wondered why she was doing this, having thought that Hailey was his friend. Hailey screamed louder at the mention of the man, the sound hurting his ears and she reached for him again to hurt him once more.

‘No!’

He concentrated all his energy into jumping, back to Central Park and his body. Peter felt himself get almost violently jerked away from the dead girl’s hold and then he was landing hard just beside Umpire rock once again.

He collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, everything starting to get dark, and before it all faded away he noticed one very important thing, his physical body was gone.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

November 02, 2015, 6:56am (97th floor of Stark Tower)

Tony walked into Peter’s room, having already see through the glass walls that May had spent another night in the chair next to his bed. He was loath to wake her up, but he knew she had a shift at 8am and knew she’d have to get a shower and get ready.

When she woke, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead, the boy looking tiny in the large bed while attached to all the machines. “I’ll be back, baby,” May whispered to him, but there was no response from the fifteen year old.

She left as she wiped her eyes. Tony sighed as he took up the seat next to Peter’s bed that May had vacated, looking at his slack face and then the nasogastric feeding tube they’d been forced to put in. Peter hadn’t woken, even after the surgery to relieve pressure around his brain. Tony had used that speed dial he’d once said he had and called Dr. Stephan Strange, and had only come when Tony had agreed to pay double his usual pay rate.

The man hadn’t given them a time on when Peter would wake, but that he’d done all he could to relieve the bleeding on his brain. Now, it was just a waiting game, and for them to be prepared for when he woke up since Peter would likely not even recognize them as he recovered. The thought of Peter waking and not recognizing May kept the woman up at night when she should be sleeping, and if Tony was honest, it tortured him as well.

It especially haunted him because of the last words he’d said to him before he’d been taken by Chris. He blamed himself for that too, since he’d driven him away with what he had said.

So, he hoped Peter woke up soon, so he could apologize to him.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

It was dark... it was so dark. He didn’t know where he was at. All he knew was the dark. He didn’t even know who he was, not his name or anything else.

He was alone in the dark.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

December 20, 2015, 8:23pm

May sighed as he sat down beside Peter’s bed after her shower, feeling tired from a long twelve-hour shift. Even then, she picked up a book on the table next to her, a bookmark saving her place. There were several books there as well, a book of poems by W.B. Yeats that she sometimes read to him.

Now, she opened the one she was sure she’d likely read to him again when she’d finished.

“‘Boy,’” May started to read, “she said courteously, ‘why are you crying?’

Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

‘What's your name?’ he asked.

‘Wendy Moira Angela Darling,’ she replied with some satisfaction. ‘What is your name?’

‘Peter Pan.’”

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

At times there were strange creatures that came from the darkness if he shined too brightly, and he had to run away. He could pass straight through objects if he needed to, but so could they. The boy didn’t know what they were, only that he was afraid of them.

‘What is your name?’ he heard a voice ask in his ear. He knew this voice, it was soft and it felt safe, and it didn’t make him afraid. Oftentimes, it said weird things to him and sometimes he couldn’t really hear it, but it was there.

‘I don’t know!’ he called out desperately. ‘I’ve forgotten!’

The voice came again, stronger this time. ‘Peter...’

‘Peter,’ he whispered. It sounded nice, and the voice said it was his name. Peter... that was his name. He was Peter.

So, Peter held onto that with all of his strength in the darkness that surrounded him, and the strange shapes that tried to attack him.

His head tilted as the voice came again, like the wind through the trees.‘And so... there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl...’

Peter was baffled. A fairy? So, that meant there were a lot of them?

He listened attentively when the voice came again. ‘...the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland...’

‘Oh!’ Peter exclaimed. That was what was here, chasing him... fairies! They were trying to take him away from the soft voice, steal him away to Neverland!

Maybe... maybe they had already stolen him away? And this dark world he resided in now was Neverland. If so, he needed to escape! Peter needed to escape from the fairies!

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter giggled as he dodged the grab of the fairy, hearing it shriek angrily and try again, but he too fast for it. He was growing bored and decided to fly away to another place. He landed on a large open field, lifting his face toward the sky that was dark for him, but he’d seen others do this with a smile. So, he assumed it felt nice, if he were like them.

There were others here, those that couldn’t see him, no matter how many times he called out to them. They were beyond his reach and he dared not touch them, because they became a part of him and he tended to forget who he was.

Peter didn’t want to forget, not again. He was Peter and he’d been stolen by fairies to Neverland, a dark world. The fairies had stolen him and took to the second star to the right, and straight on till morning. He knew this because the voice had told him.

At times, Peter thought he knew what the voice was called, it was just out of reach, but he could never remember. Maybe this was his mother, or someone that cared about him that wanted him to come back. Only, Peter didn’t know how to do that. How did one escape Neverland?

Especially, when no one could hear or see him, no matter how many times he called out to them.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter’s head tilted curiously as he saw a boy getting close to his rock. It was a very big rock and anyone that came closer, he always tried to call out to them. They never saw him though and he’d stopped trying a long time ago.

It was just, that this boy looked different. Everyone was bright with colors, but his was more radiant than all of them. He saw several fairies lurking by notice him and they skulked after him. Peter became alarmed, knowing they would steal him away. He had to do something!

He flew to where he was, knowing he had enough energy to fly several times before he got tired. Now, he was right over the boy, and he saw the fairies coming closer.

‘Hi!’ he called out to the fairies, hoping they’d be distracted with him, since the boy couldn’t see or hear him anyways. So, he was thoroughly shocked when the beautifully brilliant boy made a noise of shock and looked up and right at him!

“Hey?”

Peter grinned at him, because he could see him! For a moment forgot about the fairies creeping closer.

“What are you doing up there?” the boy asked curiously, eyes narrowed on him as he tiled his head back.

Peter shrugged as he crouched down, gripping the rock like a bird of prey, unable to keep from looking down at him because of how bright he was. ‘I dunno, I like being up high. What’s your name? I’m Peter.’

The other frowned. “Uh, I’m Harley. How’d you get to there?”

Peter looked around and pointed to the left, distracted as he remembered the fairies getting closer. ‘That way, maybe?’ He shrugged again, grin still in place so as not to frighten Harley. He hoped he went the way he pointed, so he’d move away from the shadowy figures getting dangerously close to him. ‘It’s getting dark though, so maybe you should go home. The weirdos come out at night,’ he said, hoping that would make him go.

Harley had stepped around as if about to go around Peter’s rock. “What about you? You look like you’re twelve.”

Peter scowled at him angrily, his whole body tensing angrily.‘Hardly!’ he finally scoffed, relaxing a moment later. He swayed back and forth in his crouch, grinning at him. ‘I’m one of those weirdos... better run home to your mommy.’

Harley scowled and Peter enjoyed the way his light flickered so prettily. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, bending down to pick up a rock to probably throw at him. However, he had to jump away as one of the fairies reached Peter, giggling as they left Harley alone to chase him. “Where’d you go?” Harley shouted after him, making Peter frown as the fairies started to go after the boy again.

So, he started to sing to keep their attention on him.‘We are small but we are many, we are many we are small.’

It was a shame that Harley could hear him as well, since he seemed to get scared by the singing. “Hey, man, what’re ya doing?” Peter used some of his precious energy to shove some pebbles down toward Harley, who flinched back and out of the path of a fairy that was reaching for him.

‘We were here before you rose,’ he sang, flying a fourth time to avoid a swipe, hoping Harley left soon before he completely exhausted himself. Harley wouldn’t understand if he told him about the fairies, obviously not able to see them. So, his only option was to scare him away.

“Stop it!”

‘We will be here when you fall!’

He saw a shape about to go over the edge of his rock, and he flew the last time he was able to, and he heard more than saw Harley throw something, skipping away from the shadowy fairy that made a grab for him as he laughed. They got angrier when he taunted them. He paused as he heard rapidly fading footsteps, and glanced down a moment to watch the beautiful boy run away.

Peter sighed sadly. He was alone, again.

Peter decided in that moment, that if he ever saw Harley again, he would steal him for himself. He would steal Harley the way Peter had been stolen away, and Harley would be his.

That way, Peter would never be alone again.-

#Till I Touch The Sky #Peter Parker #May Parker #Tony Stark #Things That Go Knock In The Night series #regret writes #fanfiction #regret fanfiction #Iron Dad #Spider Son #AU - no powers

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asexual-trashbag · 7 years

Text

Remembery Loss- chapter 1

Hello lovelies! Tis I, back with another fic, this time multi chapter flavored! Hope you enjoy, and yes the title is a finding dory reference. @musicsavedmefromdeath @treblegirl @toxicsanders @dani-the-flower-bab @princey-must-slay @zehumanparachute @the-life-of-trash-aka-adrian

He was back.

Anxiety stood, staring at his hands. They were pale, sweat stained, and covered halfway by the sleeves of the black hoodie he was wearing. He breathed shallowly, slowing getting used to actually having to inhale again. How long has it been? he wondered. How long had he spent drifting as an invisible gaseous thing in the mindscape. It had to have been more than…ten years. He almost choked at this realization. Ten years was a long time to spend in isolation, and though he enjoyed alone time, even he had to admit it was lonely.

His mind drifted to the others. He wondered if they’d be glad to see him again. Morality would, he was sure of it. Logic would be skeptical at first, as once a side loses the ability to manifest, they typically never gain it back. He had no idea how Prince would react. Should he visit them? They were likely either in the kitchen or the common room, if they weren’t all in their own rooms. He went to stand up, but hesitated. What if they didn’t want to see him?

After minutes of pondering, he decided to suck it up and go for it. After all, they would be seeing each other often anyway, so he might as well get used to their company…again. He stood up, opening the door to his bedroom and stepping outside. Almost immediately, he was blinded. He had forgotten how unbearably bright the rest of the mindscape was compared to his room. Eyes half closed, he made his way to the common room. They weren’t there. Anxiety sighed, turning and heading to the kitchen. He found them there, and he was shocked at how different they looked.

Logic was standing in the corner of the room, absently nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie. He was wearing a black polo shirt and blue tie instead of the blue bow tie and sweater vest Anxiety was used to. His glasses were different as well, square warby parkers that kept falling down his face.

Princey was quite the sight. The creative side was dressed in a full prince costume- minus the gloves. He also stood straighter, taller, even. He radiated confidence, and Anxiety wasn’t sure he could handle it.

Morality had changed the least. The only noticeable difference was that his cardigan was now tied around his shoulders instead of being worn properly, and his glasses has changed to match Logic’s. Anxiety sighed in relief at the small familiarity.

He cleared his throat to get their attention. As the three other sides turned around, his heart started pounding. He couldn’t help but have second thoughts, but it was too late. Morality, Logic, and Prince were all staring directly at him.

It was silent for a few uncomfortable seconds before Prince spoke up. “Um…who is this?”

Anxiety was taken aback. That was not the response he was expecting. Did he really

look that different from when they were kids?

“No idea, kiddo. You, teach?” Morality asked, making Anxiety’s soul shatter further.

Logic pushed his glasses onto his nose. “I have never seen him in my life.”

Anxiety swallowed. They didn’t remember him. How was that possible?

“Well, I guess we have a new family member!” Morality interrupted his thoughts, “You

want a cookie?”

He nodded, hesitantly making his way into the kitchen. He appreciated Morality’s

kindness, although it wasn’t enough to make up for the crushing realization that the fatherly side didn’t remember him.

As he ate, the other’s kept staring at him. It was uncomfortable, and he wished they’d

stop. Finally Logic spoke. “So…what might your name be?” he asked, sitting down at the table.

Anxiety sighed, but otherwise stayed quiet. He wasn’t interested in speaking at themoment.

“Ah, you don’t have to say anything right now,” Promised Morality.

Good. Because I don’t want to. He finished his cookie, about to retreat to his room. Until he heard Prince say something.

“Logic, do you know what time Thomas is supposed to meet his friends to see Moana?”

Anxiety tensed, turning on his heels. A movie was an awful idea. Far too many things could go wrong.

“He is to be at the theater at approximately 7:15 pm.” answered Logic.

“Are you sure going to a movie is the best idea?” Anxiety asked, speaking up after a few seconds.

Prince offered him a frown, “Whatever do you mean? What could happen?”

“Well,” he offered, drawing the word out as he decided which situation to relay to the fanciful side, “what if when they’re going to sit down, Thomas trips and spills all his food and drink and it lands on his friends, and ruins their clothes, and then they hate him and never want to speak to him again?”

“That is very unlikely to happen,” Logic said.

“Yeah, well, it, still could.” he mumbled.

“Aw, come on. Why are you so nervous?” Morality asked, offering Anxiety a warm smile.

“Anxiety,” Logic spoke before he could, “your anxiety.”

“Um….yeah…” Anxiety answered, unsure if Logan had remembered him or if he had just figure out which trait he was.

“Well then, I suppose I should welcome you to the team.”

Anxiety felt all hope escape him. He slouched, looking towards the ground. “I’m going to go…to my room. Uh..come get me if something comes up, I guess.” With that, he left the three of them to themselves.

Anxiety made his way to his room, entering and tossing himself onto his bed. He couldn’t stop wondering why the others didn’t remember him. That wasn’t supposed to happen. They should have remembered. So why couldn’t they.

As he sat in the dim light of his room, Anxiety decided he would have to find out exactly what happened, and restore the other’s memories while he was at it.

Tomorrow, he would visit the memory archives.

#fic #sanders sides #part one #my writing #tumblr mobile sucks #i had italics dammit #oh well #hope y'all enjoy #Remembery loss

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therisingtempest · 7 years

Text

{tales} Brotherhood

continued from this

The cabin boy they called Rhymer had a grand first voyage. The fourth was brilliant as well. By the tenth, the crew had resigned themselves in one way or another to the child as a permanent fixture aboard Horizon. Most didn't mind it by then. A few had even grown fond of the lad. He had quick feet, shut up when you shouted loud enough, and always seemed to find what a person needed and present it to them with those wide, hopeful dark eyes. It was hard to hate something that brought you rum and ensured he was never underfoot.

He helped the quartermaster the most, a young but tired man the crew called Madrádh for his unique wisdom. Madrádh had served on five ships, each of which had sunk, and most refused him passage for fear of curses and bad luck. Captain Fearghal didn't believe in curses, though, or any superstitions. The crew still wore their charms and performed their wards in private after crossing the quartermaster's path. Rhymer thought it was grand and asked for stories nearly twice a week.

Madrádh had lost most of the dexterity in his left hand after one too many injuries to the arm. He compensated well, and still moved quick enough to cut it aboard a Fomoiri ship, but Rhymer took extra special glee in hauling chests or clambering up to snatch things off high shelves before Madrádh had to fumble. All with the wide grin that demanded to be reflected on the faces around it.

Corvan remained singularly doubtful of the boy, which only made little Rhymer more determined to impress him. He jumped with the rest of the crew when the first mate roared. He scrubbed decks without complaint. He learned knots and practiced them in the dark of his bunk, over and over, even though it meant he swayed on his feet the next day and fell asleep in his rations.

When the captain wasn't busy, Rhymer could most likely be found in his shadow. He was, after all, the cabin boy, meant to serve the captain. And this he did happily. Fearghal had granted him a place on a ship and even took moments out of the day to teach him things. Things like plotting a route, planning an attack, how to charm a border guard and slide smuggled goods right under his nose, and best of all—swordplay.

Rhymer adored swordplay more than almost any other activity. He babied the small cutlass given to him from the ship's armory, even though it was plain and old and well-used. Even when not taking lessons with the captain, he could often be found shadow-fencing, adapting to the weight of a blade in place of the sticks he'd once played with. The shores of Mag Mell seemed so far away, but he never felt homesick.

The captain was a kind master. He took care of most things himself, only ordering the boy to fetch a bottle or his boots when he was too busy with other things to manage. In this it felt more like a partnership than a servant to his master. And Rhymer near glowed every time he could be helpful, every time the captain's duties were made more efficient thanks to his actions and the man smiled. More than once the cabin boy was allowed to stay in the captain's quarters when the navigator and Corvan leaned over charts and discussed routes with Fearghal. It was these times that Rhymer stayed very, very quiet, absorbing everything around him.

But when the captain was busy, duty fell to the first mate to find things for the little whelp to do. He'd begun to get sick of it. As eager as Rhymer was to learn and work, there seemed no end to the lad's energy and he had a maddening issue with following orders at their face, always having to do it his own way or in his own time. While life at sea came with intense bursts of activity, much of it was a neutral sort of down time that made the cabin boy restless. And annoying.

“Corv! Corv, look!”

Corvan did not look. He ground his teeth. He was not going to respond to that.

“Cooooooorvan~”

Someone on the deck crew snorted and Corvan considered tossing them over the side for encouraging the gutter rat. Instead he continued rolling silver-edged dried leaves into thin paper. He licked the edge to seal it.

“Corvan! Corvan! Look!”

He was strong enough to endure this. He’d hunted powerful creatures of the deep as a child. He'd marched into the interior of Mag Mell before he'd been full-grown. He'd faced maelstroms without flinching. He'd choked the life from a mutineer and looked dead into the man's eyes the whole time. He'd sat motionless for hours in pouring rain just for the sake of an ambush. He'd stabbed his father to death for fuck's sake.

“CORV!”

“What?!”

The first mate bolted straight up from his slouch against the mast. Even with flaming eyes and a borderline roar under his response, Rhymer only grinned at him, victorious, though a bit upside down at the moment. The brat had slipped his legs into the ratlines on the deck side and now dangled, flailing his arms and smiling like a fool. More than a few of the deck crew chuckled now. Corvan only stared until the boy's grin faded.

“What've I told you to call me?”

“Aw, come on, Corv,” the cabin boy cajoled, still with that sycophantic grin that had charmed everything from gunners to rigging rats. He started to swing a bit in his position, trying and failing to arch far enough to grip the rail. “We're just floating.”

Rather than respond to that, Corvan pocketed his unlit smoke and crossed the space to the lad. He could feel the deck crew tense up like they were one beast. Rhymer didn't share the same extrasensory alertness. He jolted and writhed when Corvan grabbed a fistful of the front of his shirt and dragged him down. He also cried out, clearly not adept at disentangling his legs quick enough to avoid injury.

Corvan did not set him down, just kept walking, hauling the boy—now right side up—to the rail to hold him off the side. The cabin boy locked fingers around Corvan's forearm, kicking and squirming, something dark like anger blackening in his eyes even alongside the fear.

“Floating, sailing, or raiding—you'll call me sir.”

“You can't hurt me,” the boy spat.

Struck speechless, Corvan only stared. The brat was right, of course. Tossing him to the mer wasn't something that could be explained away to the captain. Not to mention half the crew was in love with the little prick now. Usually a taste of fear overrode things like logic and got him obedience. It worked on men far older than the urchin now dangling helplessly in his grip.

Rhymer's expression turned smug in the silence and Corvan nearly dropped him on principle. Instead, he pivoted and released him to the deck.

“Make yourself useful. Haul the anchor.”

“By myself?” The boy scrambled to his feet, out of breath and flushed. “That's impossible!”

Without pause or prelude, Corvan grabbed him again, this time by the mess of loose curls on his head and dragged him, yelping, across to the mid-deck. There, at the bottom of the empty spool, the anchor chain linked and disappeared belowdeck where it would eventually thread out the side of the hull and down down down to the sea. The spoked wheel that sat atop the spool had been hand-carved with tentacle patterns and perhaps had once been brightly painted, though now even the gold accents were faded. Horizon was an old, reliable girl, still whip-fast and well-oiled, but her aesthetics had begun to slip beyond restoration.

The whole contraption was taller than the boy by two inches and likely weighed at least four times his scrawny mass. Rhymer gawped at it and then frowned up at Corvan. It might've been called a scowl if not for the note of fear and lostness under the heat of his embarrassed flush. He'd only ever seen teams of four and six strapping career sailors put their shoulders to this wheel to wrap link after link of mighty chain around the winch. Under their power its ascension always sounded like muffled thunder and the anchor soared up out of the water almost as fast as mer could swim.

“Haul the anchor up,” Corvan repeated, releasing him.

“I can't.”

Corvan's eyes narrowed. Every sailor on deck or above it was watching now. Some pretended they weren't, but they all were. One beast. One attentive beast. The boy, at least, could feel their attention. It wasn't the sort he fancied, Corvan could tell. The heat in his cheeks had flushed down over his neck and collarbones and he looked desperately ready to shout or lash out or maybe cry. No, not cry. Too tough for that. He wouldn't cry until later, muffled into his pillow in the dark. Corvan preferred him like this. The black of his eyes seemed so much more honest than that ingratiating smile.

“I gave you an order, boy.”

To his credit, Rhymer at least seemed conscious of that. His eyebrows knotted together and his lips curled in a frown of deep thought. A strain entered his little jaw and throat, a desire to fulfill and succeed contrasting with his own estimations of limits and reality. It all disappeared into a wrathful glare when Corvan failed to even blink at him, as compassionate as a block of granite. Rhymer stomped to the crank wheel. Lifting his hands up above head height to grip one of the spokes, he set his weight.

Before the boy could begin pushing, Corvan leaned over to flip the locking mechanism at the center of the wheel, then stepped back and folded his arms. The boy put his head down and braced his bare feet and pushed from the small of his back up through his shoulders and—to his shock, the wheel budged.

Rhymer's head perked up, tension gone from his face as he began to take slow but steady steps around the pivot of the crank. He looked across his shoulder at the center of the wheel, at the quiet-running machinations and flawless engineering that allowed even the slightest force to be of use. He looked down where the winch met the decking, watching as link after link of dripping chain appeared from beneath the deck and wrapped around its spool in elegant coils. He'd made three complete revolutions before he turned his awed gaze on Corvan.

The first mate had relaxed some in the quiet. Watching the boy work, he'd even gotten a very small smile on his lips. It looked odd, Rhymer thought, like a crack in a wall through which one could see some other place. Corvan's arms remained folded and his voice was as rough and hard as ever.

“Don't tell me something's impossible ever again. Especially not without fucking trying.”

Rather than respond, Rhymer restored his bright grin like a flash of lightning and braced his stringy thighs harder, pushing his steps faster. The click-click-click of the hauled chain quickened and Corvan moved away, unfolding his arms, withdrawing the smoke from his pocket. Like the tide, as he receded others of the crew advanced, circling closer to the boy and making laughing comments or cheering his progress.

Corvan nearly made it to the rail when the bubbling camaraderie behind him exploded into a geyser of panic and terror. Rhymer screamed, his voice shrill and distinguished from the lower shouts and curses of the experienced sailors around him. Too young. Terrified. More than terrified.

The first mate—already spinning, assessing, taking it all in—had a great familiarity with the different screams those with lungs could make. Cries of pain, of alarm, of grief. Most knew these. But there was another scream, one not heard often. One of a creature absolutely convinced it was about to die. And Rhymer was making it now.

The slender tentacle had come up with the anchor chain, threaded within and around the links with near flawless camouflage. Even Corvan, who'd been standing not two feet away when it began to rise, hadn't noticed. But now the finger-thin flexile appendage had whipped away from the chain, waiting until the boy had hauled it all the way up before uncoiling and splitting. It had to be monstrously long to stretch the whole length of the chain and more, the thinness of each flailing limb making it all the more horrifying. Five—no, six different tentacles, whip thin and twice as fast. They'd already latched onto the nearest target—the screaming cabin boy—weaving up to his chest in a tight webbing. A hunter's snare.

Pain had joined Rhymer's shrieking scream. Toxin? Barbs shredding past skin into muscle? Or were the blind snaky arms much stronger than they looked and already begun turning his bones to shards within his body? This seemed horrifyingly likely as the latching web had begun to drag the boy toward the too-small hole the chain had come up through. Back through the way it had come. Back to the sea. Even the boy's scrawny body wouldn't fit through it. Not in one piece.

Swords were already drawn and hacking by the time Corvan lunged back to the scene. He grabbed the nearest raised arm and almost broke it in his urgency to stop the falling blow, roaring at the rest to hold their weapons and take a fucking step back.

Rhymer had gotten ahold of a spoke on the hauling wheel again, and with the taut tentacles pulling on his lower half, his body now hovered off the deck. His screams had begun to go hoarse and thready. Tears stained dark cheeks and for one paralyzing moment Corvan realized he was a boy. Just a boy. A child who might meet his end right at this very moment, floating on a calm sea. Corvan fumed at his captain, howling words in his mind he wouldn't dare speak to the man's face.

I told you. I told you.

But the captain was still in his cabin and every eye settled on the first mate. Corvan could feel them all. The crew now stood out of range of the loose, searching tentacles. No one else had been grabbed. They'd moved quick enough under his command, but he had no time to be pleased with it.

Rhymer's screams had begun forming words. Help. Help me.

The crew roiled restless but did not move out of the safe zone, eyes burning into their leader. Occasionally one or two would lean back further or take a swipe at the unseeing feelers. There were more now. Seventeen. Some had reinforced the grip on the boy, writhing and weaving around his legs and waist like a living net. Some groped along his spine and his neck, seeking out what it was that kept their prey anchored. The rest strained to their limit, seeking other targets, hungry for more.

“Boy, listen to me. Rhymer!”

The shout of his name finally silenced the sobbing screams and dark wet eyes peered over one shivering arm to lock onto Corvan's cold steel. The first mate only held the gaze a moment, long enough to be sure the boy's panic peak had passed, before he returned his attention to the searching tentacles.

“Listen to me very carefully. You need to go limp.”

“F-Fuck you.”

“Fine. It's your choice. Do you want to die?”

The boy choked another sob. Madrádh elbowed his way through the press of sailors to just behind Corvan and started to address him. The first mate was not interested. Rhymer was the priority here, not a discussion of his bedside manner in combat situations.

“If you go limp, it will loosen its hold on you but it will move fast. Try to drag you down. Wait as long as you can. The more relaxed the grip, the softer the tissue, the easier to cut.”

“Cut?”

Corvan drew a small curved blade, deadly sharp. The last he'd used it had been on a prey ship captain's eye and gums. It gleamed now, clean and polished and eager for more. He tossed it overhand, hard, and the tip dug into the deck below Rhymer, leaving the handle proffered and ready to grab. The cabin boy peered down at it, eyes wide, but he'd stopped whimpering. His jaw flexed and relaxed.

“You won't get through all of it. Cut as much as you can below your feet. It’s going to react. The grip will come hard again, but it'll be in more pain than you. Sloppy. Keep your left arm up. I'm going to grab your wrist and take care of the rest. Understood?”

“I don't wanna die.” Some of the whimper had returned, trembling his tone. “I don't wanna die, Corv.”

“What have I told you to call me?”

Rhymer only panted, shuddering breaths. His eyes stayed locked on the first mate. Corvan nodded.

“Do it. Now.”

The lad lowered his head, pressing his forehead and his eyes against one shaking thin bicep. Corvan thought for a moment he was just going to keep his deathgrip on the wheel and cry there into his arm until the thing ripped him to shreds, but when Rhymer lifted his head, his expression had gone like stone.

He took a deep breath and let go.

Every soul winced as the sweet cabin boy hit the deck full on his ribs. Something clearly must've cracked or snapped, but he only grunted, right hand lashing out to grab the knife. He missed. The tentacles yanked. He flailed with his left and caught the edge of the blade, slicing open his fingers, but tipping it enough that it toppled and slid into his right on his next grab.

It happened in seconds. Impact with the deck, yanked across it toward the anchorwheel. Rhymer, to his credit, waited until the last possible moment before his foot would've been broken in five places to fit through the chain hole. He rolled to his back and bent at the waist and sliced hard with a cry—this time his scream was rage—almost completely freeing one foot and allowing him to brace the sole of it against the wheelhouse and push, giving him leverage for a second swipe with the flashing knife.

Corvan started moving as soon as Rhymer hit the deck. The periphery tentacles had, as he suspected, begun to retreat toward the central mass, toward the sudden wounding. Easily dodging around one or two agonized spasms, slicing one feeler off with a backhanded swing, ducking under another and spinning, he grabbed Rhymer's free forearm and backpedaled hard.

Madrádh—damn bleeding heart—was the first to lunge forward to grab Corvan's belt and help pull. He got a lash across the face for it and if the tentacle hadn't done it, Corvan might've. His balance upset, he almost fell, almost lost his grip on the slippery blood-slicked thin arm in his fingers. But he held on, hard enough to bruise, and dug his boots and pulled, slashing another mass of thin flicking tentacles that shot out for him with alarming precision. More crew added their weight to the quartermaster and Rhymer cut through the last of the tendrils gripping him and the whole lot of them slung backward across the deck and into the rail.

Even half on his back, Corvan kept pulling, yanking Rhymer out of range of the mutilated attacker. The boy smelled of salty tears and desperate sweat and blood, but he wasn't crying anymore. His fingers clutched Corvan's forearm almost as hard as he'd gripped the boy's own.

Fairly tossing him to Madrádh as he rolled, Corvan got back to his feet and called for fire. Lots of fire. The first few singes of it to the creature of water caused the wounded thing to withdraw, snapping back below deck and along the chain it had hijacked. Even when the gun deck crew below reported it gone, Corvan ordered the anchor unhooked and the whole chain unspooled. They'd burn every inch of it, just to be sure.

And then the good captain emerged.

Corvan was glad for the chaos on the deck, for things to do, focus on, control. It calmed the shake in his hands. That old familiar rage that had flung him at his father as a boy, driven that razor-edged knife into the flesh that had raised him. The captain emerged alone, but that didn't mean someone wasn't hiding out in the cabin. But perhaps he'd just been asleep. Perhaps he'd drank a bit too much and the noise hadn't been enough to rouse him quick enough.

It didn't matter.

“Corvan!”

The first mate gritted his teeth and turned to face Fearghal. He wanted to simply stare, to wait out the man's bewilderment until he was asked specific questions. What had happened. What he'd done to fix it. But even that could seem like a challenge of leadership, and after the near-death fight he'd just had, he wasn't in the mood for another spat.

“Hunter from the deep. Camouflaged on the anchor chain. It got your cabin boy, but we pulled him out intact. I've ordered the chain inspected to be sure it's gone.”

Fearghal stopped listening as soon as he mentioned Rhymer. Corvan actually watched his gaze unfocus and shift off his eyes to behind him, where the ship's healer had begun an investigation of the lad. Corvan did not turn. He studied his captain and it was good everyone had become embroiled in either the boy or the chain because in that moment he looked like the merhunter he'd once been. Calm. Collected. Picking out every little weakness.

“Good work.”

It was all the captain said and it was perfunctory at best. Then he was gone, shouldering past Corvan to the little huddle around Rhymer. Corvan took a deep breath of firesmoke salty air and exhaled. He reached for his pocket to find his fresh-rolled smoke, only to remember he'd dropped it when Rhymer screamed. With a soft curse under his breath, he went below to help pull the chain out into large loops. Something to do.

In the end, Rhymer was fine. He needed new clothes and a new scabbard for his cutlass, but he'd got away with only a few easily-mended cracked ribs and some scratching and bruising. Hours later, you'd never have known he’d almost ended up in several chunks sinking to the Depths. He must've told the story a hundred times by nightfall and the crew just kept feeding him attention in a way that made Corvan's back teeth grind.

Captain Fearghal had taken the lad aside at one point. Corvan didn't care to eavesdrop, but it couldn't have been that stern of a lecture because Rhymer came away from it skipping and beaming. As long as the captain hadn't rewarded the fucking prick for almost dying, Corvan could abide it. It all kept the cabin boy occupied. To the point that Corvan wasn't bothered by him at all until late that evening when the day shift was finishing their evening meal and the night crew were readying themselves for the long quiet dark.

Rhymer found him at the bow, smoking next to his empty plate. Corvan had thankfully already completed his ritual of tossing part of his food off the side. The last thing he wanted was to field a thousand questions about it. The rail came up to Rhymer's chest, so he folded his arms atop it, standing on tiptoes to peer over the side. Still, the talkative lad said nothing, only smiled down at the recently-fed mer still playing in froth coming off Horizon's prow as she sailed. It was a different smile here, in the moonlight. Simple soft joy in place of flashy brilliance.

Suddenly Corvan found questions in his throat, but he swallowed them down. He also subdued the mad urge to ruffle those windblown curls set above the strange content smile and black eyes. The cabin boy still said nothing. He said nothing the whole time he stood at Corvan's side that night. It was the first time he'd ever been quiet while conscious. As they watched the same horizon, the first mate foolishly thought there could be peace.

#tales #The Legend of Airn Rhymer #adventures of baby airn #bitty!airn #lord corvan #corv #fearghal #s; the saga of bitchlord and shitbird #long post #frick i'm actually a little sorry about how long it is XD #SORRY I'M ANTI-READMORE FOLKS

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