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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

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I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

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A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

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let-me-luve-you · 3 years

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Cancer Battle

Tom Holland x Sister (with the whole Holland clan)

Summary: The reader is diagnosed with cancer, but decides to keep it from her brothers.

Warnings: angst, cancer treatment, cancer diagnosis, brothers being rude, somewhat of a fluff ending

A/N: I did research on this. I hope I did the correct research. So I apologize if I’m wrong.

MASTERLIST

This has been the toughest two months of your life. Right when you were due to go over to America with your brothers to visit Tom, you noticed swelling in your neck. So did your mum. She set you up a doctors appointment, and two days later, you found out you had Hodgkin Lymphoma.

After talking with your doctor, you found you were in the early stages. It was still treatable and your chances of beating the cancer were very high. That helped you relax a little, but you were still in shock at hearing the words, “you have cancer.”

You wanted to start treatment right away so you told your brothers to go without you. They weren’t happy with you since you wouldn’t give them the real reason as to why you were staying behind. Every Wednesday morning for the next month, you would go with your mum or dad to the doctors office to do your antibody therapy treatment. You really didn’t want to do chemo or radiation unless it got worse, so you decided this was the next best option.

After four weeks of treatment, all of your brothers came home. Tom was disappointed you didn’t come see him, but he knew you probably had a good reason. He decided to come over to your parents house to hangout with you today. Except today wasn’t a good day. You were sick due to the side effects of the treatment. To those who didn’t know about your treatment, they would just think you had the flu. So when you walked back into your room from the bathroom, you groaned when you saw Tom sitting on the end of your bed.

“Good to see you too, Y/N.” Tom said with an eye roll.

“Hi Tom. Sorry. You might want to leave, I’m sick.” You said trying to keep your distance but you were wanting to lie down so bad.

“Mum told me. Can I get you anything?” He asked sweetly.

“I’m okay for now. Dad went to the store this morning.” You replied and motioned with your finger for him to move. He understood and moved toward your door as you went to lie down. You sighed, content when your body hit the mattress.

“I’m going to go downstairs. Text me if you need anything.” You smiled at him. “Get better soon.”

The next few days, you started feeling better. This is how it was every week. Stuck in bed on Thursday and Friday. Moving around more on Saturday and fully back to your normal self on Sunday. Then you would repeat the process again.

This Wednesday though, you weren’t feeling good. It felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. You had a fever and you could tell you had lost at least twenty pounds since your diagnosis. You got up earlier than normal to talk to your mum. When you walked into the living room, you found all four brothers.

“Hey Y/N. You okay?” Sam asked.

Ignoring his question, you looked around the room. “Where’s mum and dad?”

“Dad has a meeting at ten and mum ran to the store really quick. Said she would be back soon.” Paddy said not looking up from his phone. You nodded and turned to go back to your room to lay down until you had to go to your appointment.

“It’s a good thing you're up though. I have a press tour coming up and we are going to Bali. The three of them are going and I wanted to see if you wanted to come. You didn’t get to go last time so I thought you would enjoy it.” Tom said.

“I would but uh..” You looked around trying to think of an excuse as to why you can’t go. “I’m still getting over this sickness. Wouldn’t be good for me to go.”

“Well good thing it isn’t until next month then.” Harry said with a laugh before he turned serious. “Why are you always bailing on us? You missed the last Bali trip. You skipped last minute to go to America. Now you’re trying to get out of going to Bali again. What’s up with that?”

“I just have a lot going on. It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t.” You said.

“Harry has a point though Y/N. It’s like you don’t like us or something. You never go out with us when we are in town either and you won’t let us post photos of you.” Paddy said.

You stood shocked. You didn’t know how to respond, but it didn’t matter since it didn’t seem that your brothers were done.

“Can you tell us if we did something to you so we can fix it?” Tom said trying to be the nice brother like always.

“Come on mate. We didn’t do anything and she knows it. She just hates us.” Harry said with a snarl.

“Must be embarrassed by us. I don’t know why. People love us.” Paddy said. Sam agreed with Paddy and Harry. Tom just didn’t know what to do so he just stayed quiet. He wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, but he did feel rejected by you lately.

“I love you guys and I would never be embarrassed of you. I just have a lot going on.” You said. You were getting worked up and it was making it harder to breathe. You turned and started to leave the room. “Tell mum to come to my room when she gets home.” You started to walk up the stairs and ignored the hateful comments your brothers were whispering about you.

An hour later. Your mum came into the room and saw you laying there asleep. She went to push your hair out of your face and felt how hot you were. She immediately started to panic and tried to wake you up. Thankfully you opened your eyes halfway and saw your mum.

“Mum, somethings not right. I don’t feel good.” You whispered.

“Get up honey. We are going to the doctor.” Nikki said in a rush. She went to help you stand when you fell on the ground. Nikki was worried because you couldn’t hold yourself up. “DOM!” She yelled. “DOM HURRY UP! COME HERE!”

Tom thought he heard his mum call for him and he heard the worry in her voice so he sprinted to where he heard her trying to talk to Y/N. He was shocked when he saw you on the floor.

“Tom I need your help. We have to get her to the hospital now. Help me get her to the car.” Nikki said. Tom stayed staring at your almost lifeless body “TOM!” Nikki snapped to get his attention. Tom immediately went into protective brother mode and ran to you and easily picked you up bridal style and carried you down to Nikki’s car. He laid you in the backseat and then he joined you by putting your head into his lap. Nikki ran to the driver's seat and rushed to the hospital.

“Mum, what’s wrong with her?” He asked.

“I’m not sure.” Nikki answered honestly. If it hadn't been for the swollen glands, Nikki would have thought you were healthy as a horse. Now with the treatments, it always pained her to see her only daughter struggling with the illness. Once they got to the emergency room, Nikki started telling the ER doctor everything. Tom paled when he heard the word cancer. He looked up at his mum to see if what she said was true. When the doctors took you in the back to run test, Nikki finally turned to her oldest and saw him shaking.

“Cancer?” He whispered. If Nikki hadn’t been standing so close, she wouldn’t have heard him. She gently wrapped an arm around Tom and guided him to sit in a chair. Tom stayed latched to his mum as he cried for his little sister. “Wha- how- when? When did she find out?” Tom asked many minutes later once he stopped crying.

“Before the America trip.” Nikki said. “She’s been doing treatments once a week since. The treatments make her sick. That’s why you found her like she was last Thursday.”

“I had no idea.” Tom said more to himself. “That’s why she didn’t want to go to Bali.”

“Yeah. She wants to stay home until the cancer’s gone. She has a high survival rate, Tom. She didn’t want any of you to worry. That’s why she didn’t tell you.”

As Tom went to say something a doctor interrupted. “Mrs. Holland, Y/N is in a room now. You can go sit with her while we wait for the results. Since Dr. Hammon is the one treating her, she will be here to overlook her during her stay.” Nikki nodded and grabbed Tom’s hand. They followed the doctor to Y/n's room where she looked so tiny on her bed. She had an IV in and was sleeping soundly.

“We gave her some medicine to bring her fever down. She should wake up soon.”

“Thank you doctor.” Nikki said as he walked away. She turned to Tom, “I’m going to go call your father. Sit with her please.”

“Of course.” Tom said before grabbing your hand and sitting in the chair next to your bed. Tom grabbed his phone with his other hand. He quickly added Harry, Sam, and Paddy to a group text.

T: Hospital. Room 135. Waiting on the results for Y/N. We need to talk.

H: WTF?! Is she okay? Is that where you went. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

T: Yeah. Had to help mum. Just hurry. She should have everyone here for her.

S: Called into work and got the day off. Will be there soon.

P: Harry and I are on our way too. Be there shortly.

By the time all the brothers arrived, Dom was walking into the room as well. Nikki had already spoken with Dr. Hammon and got the news of why Y/N reacted that way. Nikki decided now was the time to tell everyone the severity of it.

“Okay guys. Y/N wanted to keep this a secret, but I no longer can. She has Hodgkin Lymphoma. Her and I noticed swelling in her neck before she was going to the states so I took her to the doctor. She was diagnosed a couple days later. That’s why she didn’t go with you boys on the trip. She’s been undergoing treatment every week to help kill the cancer.” Nikki said looking at all of her sons. “I just talked with the doctor. The bad news is she doesn’t think the antibody therapy is working. She thinks it would be best to try chemotherapy next so the cancer doesn’t spread. The good news is, the cancer hasn’t spread.”

Dom visibly relaxed at hearing that news. He was thankful you were as okay as you could be. “Did she say why she reacted this way. Why did she almost pass out?” Dom asked.

“She said her body was working in overdrive to kill the cancer cells. Her fever got too high. Now that her fever is down, she’ll be back to her old self.”

“Old self?” Tom scoffed. “Mum she’s been sick more times than she’s been feeling okay. There’s no old self in that.”

“This is her new normal for a bit. Until she defeats the cancer, this is her old self.” Nikki responded.

You groaned and tried to open your eyes. Nikki and Dom rushed to one side as Tom rushed to your other. Tom ran his hand over your head. You turned and slowly opened your eyes and met Tom’s brown ones.

“What happened? Where am I?” You asked, confused.

“Your fever got too high. Me and mum rushed you here. You’re okay now.” Tom said. You turned to see your mum next to you with your dad.

“They know sweety.” She said. You closed your eyes for a second and turned to look at Tom again.

“I’m sorry for keeping this from you.” You said.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re okay now. And I’ll be here every step of the way to help you fight.” He kissed your forehead. The rest of your brothers came up to you.

“I’m sorry Y/N/N for saying you hated us.” Harry said.

“I’m sorry too.” Sam said.

“I’m sorry as well.” Paddy said.

“It’s okay you guys. I’m sorry for not telling you. Just didn’t want you to worry. You guys have a lot going on in your life. Didn’t need to add this to the list of things you were stressing over.”

“We will always worry about you, healthy or not. You’re my baby sister. I never want you to think you have to go through something like this alone.” Tom said.

“I’ll sit with you at treatments.” Harry said.

“I’ll hangout with you when you don’t feel well at home.” Paddy said.

“I’ll make all of your favorites and I’ll make you soup.” Sam said.

You smiled at your brothers and thanked them. You were glad you had such an amazing support group to back you in this fight.

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goldenavenger02 · 3 years

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my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

5 times Zane took care of the team and 1 time the team took care of Zane

•••

"You three are brothers now, and will become stronger together. But for now, you must get acquainted with each other." Sensei's words rang in Zane's head as he made his way into the kitchen of the monastery.

While Jay had been somewhat easy to get introduced to, with his passion for robotics and his tendency to talk, they had become close very quickly.

Cole, however, was a bit harder to speak to; Zane could tell that Cole was a good person, as he was extremely loyal to Sensei even though he had just started his training under him, but he was also closed off to Jay and Zane.

And while he didn't know why, Zane had a feeling it was more so due to some sort of pain in his past, and not him viewing himself and Jay as lower than him.

Which is why Zane was now in the kitchen; he could never quite place exactly why, but he always felt at peace when he was cooking. Something about making something out of nothing was soothing to him.

But before he had decided what exactly he was going to make, that's when Cole came in, a look of longing across his face.

"Hello, Cole," Zane greeted, offering him a smile, but it faded when Cole stiffened, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's alright, just startled me," Cole insisted, the look of longing came back before he asked, "are you making anything specific?"

"I have not decided. Do you have a request?" Zane asked, trying to read Cole's face.

"Can you make cake? Vanilla cake?"

"Absolutely," Zane smiled, going to grab the ingredients before asking, his back turned to Cole, "are we celebrating something, or is it just cake?"

He heard Cole take in a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to avoid crying, which didn't make much sense, since from what he knew, cake was never for sad things.

Zane turned around to see Cole staring at the counter before he responded.

"Yeah, it's…" he swallowed before locking eyes with Zane, "it would have been my mom's birthday. She passed away a few months ago."

"I am sorry for your loss, Cole." Zane spoke softly, unsure of how best to comfort someone he didn't know very well.

The room went quiet for a few moments, and Zane busied himself with grabbing the rest of the cooking supplies when Cole spoke up again, his voice cracking slightly from the tears.

"Can I help?"

Zane nodded, allowing Cole behind the counter before Zane got to work on the dry ingredients, watching as Cole started working on the wet ingredients.

And when Zane tripped over his own foot, resulting in Cole being covered in flour head to toe, he couldn't stop himself from laughing when Cole did, although he didn't fully understand exactly what was so funny.

"Come on, you stupid hunk of junk!" Nya's shout rang through the Bounty, startling everyone that was aboard.

"How long has she been working on the thruster?" Zane asked, wondering just how long she had gone without food, sleep and water.

"Since yesterday afternoon, I can't pry her away from it." Jay explained, which led Zane to nod before making his way to the control room.

Nya was hunched over the thruster controls, screwdriver in her left hand and a screw hanging out of her mouth, her eyebrows scrunched in anger as she continued to twist the wrench with her right around a bolt.

"Nya?" Zane spoke softly, not wanting to provoke her, before gently putting his hand on her shoulder, "perhaps you should take a break. Jay said that you have been working on it since yesterday."

"I've gotta work on this," she shook her head after taking the screw out of her mouth, "we don't know when we'll have to make a getaway from...whatever Lord Garmadon is planning."

Zane nodded; since Garmadon had disappeared after the destruction of the golden weapons, they had all braced themselves for an attack, even Lloyd who had just started learning the full extent of his powers was getting ready for whatever his dad was going to throw at them.

"I understand your reasoning perfectly, but you are human, Nya. You will get burnt out if you work yourself too hard," he stopped to gently take the wrench out of her hand so she would look at him, "and if we have any chance at stopping Garmadon, we are going to need Samurai X."

Luckily, Nya nodded, and put up her tools, before wiping at her brow with her arm. "Thanks, Zane."

"You're welcome." Zane couldn't help but smile as he watched Nya make her way towards her quarters, and that's when he turned back to the thruster, and started to get to work with schematics pulled up in front of him.

"You will fly again, my friend."

Despite the fact that it was called "The Dark Island", Zane had actually found the perfect place to sit on the beach and watch the sunrise, which was hidden by large rocks, even though he could see the ocean perfectly.

He knew that the others would wake up soon, and they would start working towards the final battle yet again, but for a brief moment, everything was peaceful.

Until he heard the footsteps.

Zane immediately drew his weapon, hearing the slight rustle of sand get louder and louder, until finally, he stood and yelled, ready to attack until the supposed assailant screamed, energy at both of their hands.

Zane immediately sheathed the weapon and took a deep breath, watching as Lloyd did the same, his hand against his chest. "You scared me, Lloyd."

"Likewise," Lloyd took a deep breath before raising an eyebrow, "what're you doing?"

"I'm watching the sunrise, it looks beautiful from here," Zane explained, sitting back down and watching Lloyd's face fall, "although, I could ask you the same thing."

"I just needed some time for myself," Lloyd told him, sitting next to Zane before letting out a sigh, "I don't think I'm ready."

"To fight your father?," Zane offered, resulting in a nod from Lloyd, "You have every reason to be upset about this situation. I just reunited with my father, and I can confidently say that I would be very distraught if we were on opposite sides."

"My entire life, I've lost people. My father got banished, my mother went to work on her research and left me at Darkley's, even my uncle didn't take me in for a long time," Zane watched as Lloyd took in a shaky breath before wiping his face against his sleeve, "I don't wanna lose him again."

"Again?" Zane asked softly, as to avoid provoking Lloyd.

"My dad has been the only one to come back for me. When I got taken by the Serpentine, he left whatever evil place he was in to come save me, and I know you guys came for me too, but…"

"You're scared of being abandoned again after you fulfill the prophecy." Zane spoke aloud as it clicked in his head, and when Lloyd nodded, he could feel his heart break slightly.

"I don't want to be alone again."

Zane nodded, before gently laying his hand on Lloyd's shoulder and he saw the tear streaks on Lloyd's cheeks. "You won't be alone again, because you have me and the others. We are your brothers, and even if you didn't have elemental abilities, we would still be your brothers."

Zane didn't prepare himself adquitally for the hug that Lloyd gave him, and he could feel his circuits and gears tightening under his grasp.

But hearing Lloyd's soft voice whisper, "thank you, Zane," made it all worth it, and he couldn't stop himself from returning the hug.

"No sign of Chen or any of his warriors." PIXAL affirmed with a smile, which led Zane to repeat the message to Kai.

Now that he had been freed, he was fully able to explore exactly what his new body could do, and while he remembered big events clearly and flashes of small things, his memory was still foggy.

But he remembered his friends, and that was the biggest thing that mattered to him.

"Any sign of Skylor?" Kai begged, and Zane had no choice but to shake his head no, seeing the look of anguish on Kai's face grow more prominent.

"Let's keep looking. They couldn't have gotten off the island." Kai insisted, Zane following closely behind, watching as Kai's face went from anger to worry.

"You seem distraught, Kai. About more than Skylor," Zane reached forward and gently set his hand on Kai's shoulder, watching as he turned back to meet his eyes, "do you want to talk about it?"

Kai let out a sigh before turning back to the path and continued to walk, "I feel terrible for what happened. I had to trick Lloyd in order to get the staff from Chen, and then I almost hurt Lloyd and Skylor with the staff. Now she's missing, and...I feel like that's on me."

"No one blames you for that, Kai. Chen is the one who took her, not you." Zane reasoned softly.

"But I allowed myself to be corrupted by the staff. We all know how bad losing power is for Lloyd, and I allowed the power to consume me, to say things to him that...that I haven't believed in a long time."

"As soon as we get back, you two should talk and get everything out in the open," Zane stopped once again to put his hand on Kai's shoulder, "if we are going to fight as one, and stop Chen, we cannot have any harsh feelings towards each other."

"You're right," Kai nodded, before letting out another sigh, "I just hope Lloyd doesn't hate me."

"I think that would be impossible, Kai," Zane insisted, and when Kai turned to raise an eyebrow at him, he continued, "I do not remember everything, and my memories are still foggy, but I remember just how much Lloyd and you have bonded over the years. I have a feeling that after you two talk, he will forgive you."

Kai smiled, which made Zane's emotion levels spike with happiness, before the two continued walking deeper and deeper into Chen's island.

Zane couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, like there was a gap in his memory drive, even if PIXAL insisted that there wasn't one.

So he was awake in the bridge, trying to double check; he really did trust PIXAL, but something had happened to his memories, and after the whole situation with his memory switch in the first place, something about forgetting just scared him.

But as he continued to go through his internal hard drive, and his memory drive, it seemed as though PIXAL was correct, and there was no gap.

As he went to close the files, that's when PIXAL popped up in his vision.

"Zane, there is someone in the general proximity of the bridge. Proceed with caution."

Zane straightened his back as he closed the files, even though the only sound he could hear was a slight sniffling that sounded a lot like crying, and grabbed one of the spare katanas that was out, turning slowly to see if he could scope out who was in the room, but that's when Jay turned the corner, a pint of ice cream in his hand that he almost threw at Zane when he screamed.

"What the heck are you doing up, Zane?!" Jay screeched as Zane set the katana on the table and approached him, "You're going to give me a heart attack if you're that quiet!"

"I'm sorry, I was just…" Zane trailed off before making eye contact with Jay, who now had the spoon from the pint of ice cream, that looked like it was Cole's ice cream, in his mouth; the tear streaks barely visible against Jay's cheeks, however, that's what Zane noticed, "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Could ask you the same thing," Jay responded before sticking another spoonful in his mouth, "couldn't sleep, got hungry, and Cole's name isn't on his ice cream."

"I heard someone crying." Zane asked softly, watching as Jay nearly choked on a chunk of cookie dough before sputtering.

"Maybe it was Lloyd, you know he curls up under the wheel when he doesn't want anyone to know he's crying."

"Lloyd was snoring when I left our room, I would have seen him," he watched as Jay's body deflated slightly and he put the ice cream down on the console before sitting down, which led Zane to put his hand on his shoulder, "do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm just working through some things, things that...you wouldn't remember."

Zane swallowed as he made the connection that Jay knew exactly why he had a gap in his memory that PIXAL couldn't detect, but instead of freaking out, he sat next to Jay, and put his hand on his shoulder. "Maybe not, but I am willing to listen, even if you wanna erase this conversation afterwards."

"Nah, I'm not gonna do that," Jay wiped his hand across his face before taking a shaky breath and turning back to Zane, "You remember when we were trying to get to Stiix because of reports of Clouse being there?"

"Yes, that's when you and Nya resumed dating." Zane affirmed, watching as Jay's face fell slightly.

"Yeah, that's… not exactly what happened…"

'Remember when I put Kai's clothes in with yours, and you had to dress up as the pink ninja? Remember?' The blonde boy pleaded, green eyes full of tears.

He had no idea what this liar was talking about, let alone who he was. Vex insisted he was some sort of liar or traitor, but there was something about the way…

'No.'

He had no idea who this was.

•••

Zane tried to shake the memory away as he made his way to his room, looking over at the photo on his dresser.

The picture that they had taken after finishing the mural on the monastery wall; where Kai was holding onto Nya and Lloyd and Nya was holding onto Jay and Jay was holding onto Cole and Lloyd was holding onto him and he was holding onto PIXAL.

And they were all happy; even though the Oni almost killed them all, there was a large gash next to Lloyd's eye and Cole looked like he had been through the underworld and back, they were happy.

Zane was anything but happy now.

When they returned from the Never-Realm, and they shared weary smiles and hugs with Master Wu and PIXAL, despite the frostbite, Lloyd's obvious concussion and the burns on Kai's hands that would definitely scar, they were happy.

The feeling in Zane's gut was not going away anytime soon. Watching as PIXAL stitched the cut on the back of Lloyd's head, applied bandages to Kai's hands, and treated the frostbite wasn't helping with that either.

Zane didn't deserve to feel happy after nearly killing the others. After nearly killing Lloyd.

While the others were eating dinner, courtesy of Nya, Zane was sitting outside on the steps of the monastery; he didn't need to eat, and even if he did, he didn't think he could stomach it.

'You were built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You failed your purpose. Both as a ninja, and as yourself.'

Despite all that had happened with his memories, Zane was starting to consider asking Jay to wipe the archive of the Never-Realm. Maybe he wouldn't feel as bad then.

"Hey," a voice interrupted his thoughts, and he lifted his head to see Lloyd smiling at him, although it was more of a sympathetic smile than a genuine one, "mind if I sit here?"

"You're not supposed to be outside, or on stairs for that matter, without supervision," Zane reasoned, but still moved so Lloyd could sit beside him, "you still have a concussion."

"Well, you're here, so I'm being supervised," Lloyd reasoned while sitting, and Zane couldn't deny that logic, and the company was more welcome than the deafening silence, "besides, I need a break from Kai and Master Wu breathing down my neck."

Zane nodded as Lloyd adjusted to get comfortable; he had noticed how understandably protective both of them had grown since they had gotten back, and how Lloyd had insisted immediately that the concussion was Vex's fault, refusing to look Zane in the eye.

"So, are you leaving?" Lloyd's voice cracked, which jolted something in Zane's system as he nearly stood with the shock.

"No, no, I'm not leaving," he insisted, unable to ignore the relief on Lloyd's face as he spoke, "why would you ask that?"

"Because the last time you left the monastery at night, you found my treehouse," Lloyd kicked at a pebble before looking at Zane, "and when the Hypnobri burned down the old monastery-"

But Lloyd's voice cut out as the scene played out in his head.

'Flames, trapped dragons, no more training equipment, no home, nowhere to go, alone, everyone accusing him of causing this, insisting that it was a teaching moment, being ignored, seeing the falcon, following it, the feeling of being alone again.'

"I left because I saw the falcon, and you weren't even there." Zane tried to convince Lloyd that it hadn't been the guilt, feeling like he had screwed up, feeling like he was alone.

"You're right, I was busy being a brat," Lloyd reasoned before looking back at Zane, "but I know as well as anyone what guilt is, and you felt it then, like you feel it now."

Zane swallowed; did everyone know? Was he terrible at hiding this? Had they planned to send Lloyd out?

"I hurt people. A lot of people," Zane swallowed, knowing that there were tears in his eyes, "I hurt you."

"That was Vex-" Lloyd tried to insist, but Zane shook his head, unable to look at Lloyd and instead looked up at the glittering stars.

"You don't have to lie to me, Lloyd. They were my hands, I was the one who…" he couldn't even finish his sentence without choking on the emotions on his throat.

He felt Lloyd's hand on his shoulder, he couldn't look at him, but he couldn't reach over and pull his hand off either, 'what if I freeze him? What if I hurt him again?'

"You know, Master Wu has a saying for things like this, "we cannot change the past, but we can affect the future"," Lloyd quoted, leading Zane to swallow harshly as his master's words rang true in his head, "but I get it. Feeling like you hurt people because it was your hands."

'Morro.'

"Lloyd, I didn't-" Zane started, finally managing to look at Lloyd, but he was cut off by childlike wonder spreading across his face.

"A shooting star! Quick, make a wish!" Lloyd begged, and Zane wiped at his tears before closing his eyes, pretending to make a wish before turning back to Lloyd.

"What did you wish for?" He asked, fully indulging Lloyd at this point, who was standing up. 'Lloyd deserves this, after everything.'

"That you'll come back inside with me and the others," Lloyd held out his hand to Zane, making his head throb with worry.

'You'll hurt him, you'll hurt him, you'll hurt-' "You're not going to hurt me, Zane."

Zane took Lloyd's hand, and allowed him to lead him to the living room.

For the first time since they got back from the Never-Realm, as Cole and Kai went head to head in their video game, as Nya and Jay snuggled on the couch, as he sat in between Lloyd and PIXAL, things felt right again.

He let PIXAL hold his hand, he let Cole high five him, he let Jay give him a fist bump, he hit the empty bag of chips away from Lloyd's head. Even as Master Wu pulled Lloyd away from the TV due to the concussion and Cole took his spot, he still felt calm. Relaxed even. Maybe now, they could all start to heal together.

#Ninjago #lego ninjago #zane ninjago #lloyd montgomery garmadon #jay walker #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #master wu #pixal #pilot season #season 2 #season 4 #season 6 #season 11 #angst #family #friendship #the formatting is a little weird but i wanted the whole story to fit on here

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vladdocs · 3 years

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Dracula's Life from 7 to 14 - Part 1 By Lyzhina Svetlana Sergeevna (Лыжина Светлана Сергеевна) Original in Russian: http://samlib.ru/l/lyzhina_s_s/dracula_7_14_1.shtml Annotation: Dracula's life from age 7 to 14 is the darkest period in his biography. Most authors do not even try to look into this darkness, but jump straight from childhood in Transylvania to the Turkish captivity, mentioning growing up as far as it goes. I will not, however, do so... The period from age 7 to 14 is important primarily because this is when Dracula began to realize himself as a Romanian. Before the age of 7, the world is pretty narrow for a person: mom, dad, grandparents and other relatives. Before the age of 7, a child does not really care about his own nationality, because he does not yet fully understand what it is. But after the age of 7, the horizons widen, and such notions as "small motherland" and "big motherland" appear. Dracula saw his Romanian homeland for the first time when he was about 7 years old, and, apparently, this first meeting made a strong impression on him. First time in his homeland In the summer of 1436, Dracula's father took over the Romanian throne and moved his family from Sighisoara to Tirgoviste, the Romanian capital of that time, no later than the fall of the same year. As a result, the life of the 7-year-old Dracula changed abruptly: 1) he now heard Romanian speech not only from his household, but also from everyone around him. 2) Home services were replaced by visits to the temple, rich and beautiful, and the services there were conducted to the highest standard, as a well staged theatrical performance. 3) The attitude of those around him changed. Everybody bowed to little Dracula like to the king's son, and even his peers, 7-year old boys like him, were obliged to bow. 4) the way of life changed - many new servants appeared, and the dwelling became much more spacious. _ _ _ _ Historical note: The house in Sighisoara was relatively small - 25x11 m in length and width, if we do not count the inner courtyard and the side passageway. At the same time the palace in Targoviste in the mid 1430s was 32x29 meters in length and width. It is not difficult to calculate that in terms of area it was almost twice as big as the house in Sigishoara. And that again without taking into account the adjoining territory enclosed by a fortress wall of 250x20 m. On this territory there was a temple built specially for the prince and his courtiers, as well as household premises. In addition there were extensive gardens and vegetable gardens, as well as ponds for trout breeding. They were necessary because the palace regularly hosted feasts at which enormous quantities of all kinds of food were eaten. _ _ _ _ We cannot say whether Dracula accepted his new life with delight or was embarrassed, but the boy saw the mood of his parents, who were clearly happy about what was happening. This should have led the child to believe that he, too, should be happy. Intensified Learning The only thing that definitely did not make little Dracula happy was his studies, because after he moved to Targoviste, his education was taken seriously. In textbooks on the history of pedagogy, you can read that all countries that have adopted the culture of the Byzantine Empire, along with Orthodoxy, adopted the system of teaching children. Romania is no exception in this sense. As in all other Orthodox countries, teaching followed the principles formulated by John Chrysostom: 1) simplicity of life, without excesses (so that the child would not fall into a dependence on comfort); 2) education with an emphasis on spiritual values (and contempt for material things); 3) strict control (parents watch where the child goes, what he/she does, what he/she says) 4) possibility of corporal punishment in case of disobedience (Chrysostom suggests "flogging"). Education had three levels: primary, secondary, and higher. They began to study (I repeat) at the age of 6-7 years old. Primary education was completed before the age of 12. Secondary education was

completed at the age of 17. It turns out that Dracula never received a higher education, because he was sent to the Turks at the age of about 14. No one in Turkey followed the Byzantine system of education. Dracula's higher education was replaced by lessons in the Turkish language and Turkish customs... But back to Dracula's elementary education. Elementary School Elementary education included four subjects: - arithmetic (counting on fingers, on pebbles, and in mind), - grammar (in this case Slavonic), - rhetoric, - philosophy (philosophy in the Middle Ages was perceived as the first step toward the study of "higher philosophy" - theology). The process of teaching itself was a little different from today - the children sat together, but each student was taught separately by the teacher. The grammar was taught on the basis of the texts of the Holy Scriptures and the lives of the saints. Rhetoric was modeled on the works of the same John Chrysostom. In the beginning, during the lessons of rhetoric children were supposed to retell the contents of texts and tell them by heart, and when children accumulated enough knowledge, the teacher arranged eloquence contests between pupils, where they were supposed to support their words with appropriate quotations. It is difficult to say whether Dracula competed with his elder brother, because the practice of competitions existed only in Byzantium, but, for example, in Russia such competitions did not exist. In addition, all forms of rivalry between Dracula and his older brother should have been opposed by the tutors, because in the family of Dracula on the paternal line practiced a special system of state management - the king had a co-helper in the person of the younger brother. About this writes researcher M.Kazaku. Dracula's grandfather Mircea the Old was at one time co-ruler of his elder brother Dan, and when his brother died, Mircea ruled alone. Dracula's father, Dracul Sr. was at one time co-ruler of his older brother Mihai, and when Mihai died, Dracul Sr. ruled alone. Dracula himself must also have been indoctrinated from a young age to be his brother's helper. An assistant, not a rival! All training and education of Dracula should be subordinated to this idea - Dracula should be prepared to help his brother and carry out all his orders, and in case of his brother's death he should continue his work. That is to say, he should continue it, and not do anything on his own! Dracula could think of no other fate, for he had before him the example of his father and grandfather, and in the Middle Ages the power of tradition was unusually strong. Apparently, when Dracula was sent as a hostage to the Sultan, he was encouraged by the same words about the need to help the elders: "Living with the Sultan, you will help your father and older brother a lot. And Dracula must have believed it, but later, when his father and older brother died suddenly, Dracula could not immediately get his bearings. He found himself in a role as an older man for which he was not at all prepared. He had no time to be instructed what to do and how to do it, so he had to decide everything on his own, to break his usual worldview and generally learn to be a leader... But here we are, once again, off-topic. Middle School According to the Byzantine system, the secondary level of education included the study of three new subjects: geometry, music, astronomy. Geometry, Dracula and his brother, of course, studied. In addition, it is known that as early as the 11th or 12th century, a collection of quotations from Aristotle about mathematics appeared in Slavic. These quotations together formed a coherent system, so that children in Slavic countries studied from this collection as from a textbook. Music in those days meant learning church singing, but it is unlikely that Dracula and his brother had time for that, because the Byzantine educational system in the Middle Ages did NOT include physical training, and sovereign's children needed this training. The physical training in the case of Dracula and his

brother was military training, where the pupil had to master 3 skills: 1) the ability to fight on foot; 2) the ability to fight on horseback; 3) the ability to command an army so as to lead it to victory. Perhaps the list of disciplines Dracula had to study after the age of 12 also included history and politics. Perhaps, the list also included Latin, but here we can not say anything for sure, because according to the Byzantine system of education all this (Latin, history, politics) belonged to the higher level of education, which, as we know, due to a number of tragic circumstances Dracula did not reach. Practical results of "Byzantine" education In a number of articles about Dracula one can read that he was supposedly a savage and ignorant - a kind of Neanderthal, but not with a club, but with a stake, who got an idea of culture only thanks to the years spent in "enlightened" Turkey. However, all this is nonsense! Dracula was educated before Turkey, and everything I've said here about the Byzantine system of education used in Romania for the education of the sovereign's children - not just a guesswork. All of this is confirmed in historical documents. From the texts that have survived from the time of Dracula, we can see that the Romanian rulers were literate people, read spiritual literature and were able to speak beautifully. For example, the beginning of the charter from May 20, 1388, which was dictated by the grandfather of Dracula, Mircea the Old. This charter is a gift to the monastery, but before going on to enumerate what will be given to the monastery, the prince reasons about God as well as a theologian: "Whom the Spirit of God guides, they are the sons of God, says the holy apostle, and to him echoes every one who values truth and does good works, desiring to receive eternal life - to leave earthly things on earth for the reward in heaven. Blessed are those who have heard the good voice, for they hear it always: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. In the same way, I, believing in Christ God and Christ-loving and autocratic voivode and lord of all the land of Ugrovlakh, <...> as much as I can, want to follow this voice and glorify God, who glorified me and in glory enthroned me on the throne of my parents". That's how he bent it! Here are the results of the rhetoric lessons, which were part of the first level of education according to the Byzantine system! No wonder that everyone liked these words of Mircea. It is no coincidence that in his letter of December 12, 1424, uncle of Dracula, Prince Dan II, reproduces them, and then another relative of Dracula, Prince Alexander Aldea, does the same in his letter of June 25, 1436. Dracula himself quotes this statement in his charter of April 16, 1457. And here is how Dracula's father weaves verbal lace in his letter of August 2, 1439: "And who dares <... > violate my approval and command, such let the Lord God strike with his terrible and just judgment, and let the Holy Lady of the Theotokos speak against this man, and let him be damned on behalf of the seven holy ecumenical councils, and let him be counted among those who, like Judas and Arius, denied the Lord, and all those who betrayed the Lord to death". Of course, many edicts in those days ended with a standard curse on possible violators, but Dracula's father added to this curse, which most modern readers can appreciate only after they look in an encyclopedia. Can you tell at a glance what "ecumenical councils" and "Arian heresy" are? But Dracula's father could! And, apparently, he knew church history. That is, he was highly educated. As for Dracula himself, we can judge the level of his education by his statements, which, of course, distorted by numerous retellings, but the essence remains. For example, the episode with the Turkish ambassadors who did not remove their headdresses under the pretext that the "law" forbade. "And I want to follow your law," says Dracula, "so that you may hold fast to it. In doing so, he almost quotes

the Gospel, which says, "I have not come to break the law, but to fulfill it." And think of the burned beggars: "...I delivered them, so that they would not suffer in this world from poverty or from disease. The very course of Dracula's reasoning leads us to believe that this ruler in his time studied both the Holy Scriptures and rhetoric. Travels around the country In addition to "book sciences" and "warfare" in Dracula's education was one more component, and a very important one - study tours around the country, i.e. in Romania. However, Dracula had to perceive these trips in a different way than his older brother, because the older brother was prepared for the role of a ruler, and Dracula - for the role of an assistant to the ruler. Dracula's older brother perceived cities, villages, fields and forests as his future property. Dracula, seeing all the same, perceived it as his brother's property to be protected. If Dracula's older brother thought, "All this exists for me - for my needs and my pleasure," then Dracula thought, "I must take care of the preservation of it all. This is why in Dracula's behavior when he reached adulthood we find a motive not at all characteristic of the rulers of that time - the motive of service to one's country. Dracula was not brought up as a ruler, so even when he became a ruler, he did not get rid of the attitude that was hammered into his head throughout his childhood and adolescence - you were born to serve and help. He did all those things he did - eradicating crime, winning favourable trade conditions for Romanian merchants, waging war against the Turks - not for himself and not even for specific people. He did it all for Romania, which he called his "patrimony," not in the sense of his ownership of the land, but in the sense of his concern for it. This is how Dracula's notion of homeland was formed, which was Romania, although his early childhood took place in Transylvania.

#vlad iii #vlad tepes #vlad dracula tepes #vlad the impaler #the life of vlad the impaler early ages #history

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

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Sixth Time’s the Charm [2]

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 2,139

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: You’re injured and Sam is overprotective. Dean gets caught in the middle.

Warnings: protective moose, badass!reader, exasperated squirrel, mutual pining, idiots in love, slow burn, fluff

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on part 1! here's part 2 of a mini series that is essentially an amalgamation of all the jealous/protective tropes lol

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The second time was an accident, although that did nothing to lessen Sam’s resulting ire. It was the middle of November and the three of you had been hit with one case after another, giving you no time to recover from injuries and keeping everyone rather keyed up.

A stupid misstep during a wendigo chase had left you with a sprained ankle on the last hunt. Sam, being the modern Prince Charming kinda guy that he was, had carried you back to the car while you protested futilely within his solid arms, eventually giving up in favor of hiding your embarrassment in the crook of his neck, though that only made your foolish heart beat faster.

“Sam, I’m fine, seriously. It’s nothing! A bit of ice and I’ll be good to go. You don’t have to do this,” you had nearly begged after he set you down on your motel room bed. His proximity always made you nervous, but when it was just the two of you and he was taking care of you like this? It set your heart racing and left a bittersweet aftertaste in your soul.

“Y/N, would you just let me look at it?” Sam hadn’t meant to sound so snappy, but he was growing tired of you always pushing him away whenever he got too close. He figured you wanted to keep your distance, keep things platonic, and he could never blame you for protecting yourself, especially given his history with women, but he genuinely wanted to help you. Sam needed to make sure you were all right.

His irritable tone had shut you right up, so you simply nodded in consent. ‘Great, now I’m annoying him,’ you thought with a quiet sigh.

Sam tried to send you an apologetic smile, to show that he was simply worried, but you wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Great, now she hates me,’ he thought with a defeated sigh.

Choosing not to dwell on the lump in his throat, Sam quickly got to work, ever so gently removing your boot and then sock before rolling up your pant leg just enough to get a clear look. His capable hands and eyes meticulously examined your swollen ankle, turning it this way and that as you leaned back on your hands and shifted uncomfortably on your bum.

“Well, you were right, I don’t think it’s broken. Probably just a bad sprain. You should stay off it for a while though,” his magical kaleidoscope eyes peered up at you through thick lashes as rays of setting sunlight pierced through the only small window in the room and bounced off his cheekbones in ways that left you speechless once again.

You gulped, finding it impossible not to hold his gaze. “Right, thanks doc,” you whispered awkwardly after a beat, swiftly removing your leg from his hold, and rolling your pants back down.

And that had been that.

Now here you were a week later, discussing your plan for a possible witch hunt.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Dean started, “Sammy can go through the back door, and I’ll go in from the front, while Y/N keeps watch on the outside and-”

“Dude, what the hell?!” Sam’s sudden outburst surprised both you and Dean, as he slammed his laptop shut and raised both hands in question.

“What? What do you mean ‘what the hell’?” Dean shot back, completely perplexed.

“Dean! She has a bad ankle!” Sam’s voice was filled with an unrecognizable anger and his darkened eyes bored fiercely into Dean’s.

“Okayyy, and I put her on lookout duty…” the older Winchester repeated slowly, trying to suss out his brother’s mystical problem.

“Which means she’s gonna have to walk back and forth around the place, and if she sees something, she’s gonna have to run!” Sam accused his brother incredulously, gesturing wildly with his big hands.

Dean couldn’t hold back the dramatic eye roll that accompanied his sigh of disbelief. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought, wishing his baby brother would just man up and tell you how he felt instead of throwing these little tantrums.

Your jaw had been slack as you watched the entire exchange in bewilderment. Feeling a little bad for Dean, however, you decided to finally speak up, adjusting your voice to take on a soothing tone, “Sammy, I’m fine. Honestly, it’s feeling a lot better!” While that wasn’t exactly true, you weren’t sure you could handle another round of his huge yet gentle hands caressing your bare skin. “Besides, it’s not exactly unheard of to be on a job while you’re still a little battered and bruised; that’s just part of the life. I mean, you guys do it all the time!”

Sam turned to look at you for the first time since he’d started speaking, trying to ignore the whirl of butterflies that erupted in his stomach when you used the nickname that had been reserved for Dean only up until you came along (it always sounded so sweet coming out of your mouth, he could never find it in himself to correct you), so he could focus on his train of thought. “Yeah, but we don’t do things that’ll make our injuries worse. Y/N, you need to stay off that foot or it’s not gonna heal properly!”

“Look, Sam, I appreciate the concern. I really do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve had much worse and we need all hands on deck for this case.”

“Well, she ain’t wrong about that. This bitch has been tricky since the start,” Dean chimed in.

Sam flashed his brother a dangerous glare, the muscles in his jaw popping, before he turned back to you, “No. I’m sorry, but I think you’d be more help to us if you just stayed in the car.”

“No?” you questioned him with narrowed eyes. Sure, he was the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on, but that didn’t mean he could tell you what to do – especially not when it came to hunting, the one thing in which you were fully confident of your abilities.

Dean looked on with an amused smirk, glad he wasn’t the one about to get chewed out anymore.

“Sam, I know you mean well, but you don’t get to make that decision for me. That’s not how this works. I joined you two ‘cause we work well as a team. But that only holds if we all get equal say, if we all respect each other as hunters. I’m telling you that I can do this, and you need trust me.”

Sighing as he rubbed his temples, Sam stayed quiet for a moment while he pondered his response. He knew you were right. You were a total badass and he was painfully aware of it (there were times when a stand-alone part of his body was painfully aware of it as well), but still, he couldn’t resist the urge to protect you. Lately, it was becoming harder.

“I trust you, Y/N/N,” Dean cut in, breaking the silence, and then raising a brow at his brother.

Sam ran a large hand over the lower part of his face, nodding his head without looking at either of you, before rising to his feet and walking out abruptly.

Turning your head to stare after him with furrowed brows, you began uncertainly, “Should I…?” You sent Dean an inquiring glance in lieu of finishing your sentence.

“Nah, I got this. Kid’s probably just cranky after all these hunts. You just stay off that foot for as long as you can, make sure you’re good to go for later.”

You nodded as you watched Dean leave to find Sam. It was only a matter of minutes before you heard their loud voices travelling through the thin walls.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You recognized Sam’s low and enraged voice immediately.

“Well maybe if you just told her!”

“Told her what, Dean?!”

That’s when things got quiet again.

After a moment of pause, you shook it off and went back to reviewing your research for the case in silence. As confused and curious as you were, you weren’t about to let your mood distract you from the perils that laid ahead. Like Dean said, this witch was tricky, and you needed to have the brothers’ backs.

It was two in the morning when the three of you finally managed to kill the bitch. The hunt turned out to be a team effort after all, with you saving the boys’ asses at the last minute. Your chest was heaving and your ankle throbbing, but you were satisfied with the job well done.

Sam watched as you slowly hobbled back to the car. He could tell that your limp had worsened, but he kept his mouth shut since he knew there was no way they could have done it without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he and Dean would still be here without you, but seeing you in pain tore at his heart and made him wish things were somehow different, despite the overall positive outcome.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, interrupting Sam’s thoughts and urging him forward with a tired grunt.

“I don’t know about you kids, but I am beat,” Dean looked over at you and Sam as he cut the engine twenty minutes later, “We good with staying another night and heading back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” you agreed, climbing out the car and retreating to your room after bidding the brothers good night.

“Dude,” Dean’s head rolled heavily to the right when only he and Sam were left in the Impala, “Just go talk to her, will ya? You’re driving me nuts here.” He sent his brother an imploring look, a bit of Winchester telepathy.

There was a light knock on your door moments later. You swiped your gun but lowered it when you saw Sam’s hulking form through the peephole.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly after opening the door, keeping one hand on it to help steady yourself.

“Hey,” he echoed, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m fine,” you lied easily, trying not to make it obvious that you were resting all your weight on your good leg.

But of course, Sam was much too shrewd for that, perceptive gaze flickering down to your feet right away, “Can I look at your ankle please?” the words rushed out of his mouth, and he was quick to add more before you had a chance to protest, “I swear, I’m not here to tell you off; I just want to help you. Please.”

It always amazed you how Sam could go from towering, ferocious hunter to bashful, adorable, man-boy so seamlessly. He was really stinking cute when he begged, and you could never say no to those puppy dog eyes, “Yeah, OK,” you muttered while backing up to let him all the way in, too exhausted to offer any form of resistance anyway.

You sat on the edge of your bed obediently, bending over to remove your shoes, but Sam was there kneeling beside you in an instant, waving your hands away. He unzipped your boot and slowly slipped it off your foot, careful not to rattle your ankle in the process, with one hand holding on firmly to your calf.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said as he repeated the process with your sock.

“What for?”

“For making you feel like I don’t respect you as a hunter, for making you believe I don’t trust you.” He was down to the compression wrap he’d picked up for you at a drugstore, with which he took extra care removing, keeping his movements slow and cautious. “None of that’s true; I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself more.”

You studied Sam in the pale light, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin, “I saved your ass though, didn’t I?”

That brought a chuckle to Sam’s lips, his hands still supporting the full weight of your lower leg as he prodded lightly at the bloated skin around your foot, “Well, the swelling’s definitely worse, but yeah, you did.”

“Then it was worth it. Your ass will always be worth it.”

Sam looked up at you and found himself getting lost in the truth within your eyes. There was a buzz of raw emotion vibrating through the air between you, and so many words came to his mind, but in the end, he settled on, “Come on, we gotta keep this foot elevated.” He then grabbed your waist and managed to move you up the bed in one smooth motion, “I’ll go get you some ice.”

You immediately missed his fingers and the way they had absentmindedly stroked your calf, staring wantonly at his back as he walked out the door.

→ CARRY ON

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pocket-void · 4 years

Text

A Cup of Coffee

A/N: I am so incredibly relieved to have finished this, but anyways! This is the second fic for Smaller Sides to Life, and I hope it’s alright. (Might make a mini list for that eventually) ^///^ I feel better about this story after thinking about it, and honestly I’m pretty content! Thank you and I hope you have a lovely day/night. u///u

Pairing: Loceit Words: 3596 Content: Flustered Janus because it just kind of turned out that way akjefabekf, it’s mostly Janus’ POV, there’s like a handful of swear words, it is fully light hearted u///u Summary: Janus and Logan always share the kitchen in the morning, being the earliest ones to rise. They never really talked, nor were they ever close, but it turns out that maybe they both have wanted to be.

Google doc if you like reading Cambria font or something, since I haven’t quite figured out Ao3 and don’t know if I ever will. >///< Also I believe uh, @sophiexteresa you wanted to be tagged...?

“Tssss...ouch.”

Sometimes a morning is about as good as a cup of coffee.

Some days it’s rich, fulfilling, and satisfying; a perfect and refreshing way to start the day. A cup that wakes you up with a gentle spreading warmth and wraps you in its delicate aroma that soothes your mind.

Other times however, it’s bitter, bland, and too watered down to really be properly enjoyed, resulting in a disgusting aftertaste that lingers just at the back of your throat; a constant reminder of what could’ve been, a better cup of coffee. It’s doubly worse when the coffee is not only bad, but also way too hot. The only possible benefit of the harsh sting that comes from the first sip is that it completely numbs the taste buds, effectively nullifying the admittedly awful flavor of the beverage, which of course will inevitably come creeping back regardless because there never truly is an escape from the shame and disappointment that is failing to make something as easy as a cup of joe.

Perhaps the simple truth was just that Janus was not very good at making coffee. He was never going to admit that, obviously. Heavens no, he’d rather down another cup of scalding bean water before that ever happened. It’s not like he’d be able to taste it right now anyways, with his stupid numb mouth and all. Still, the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep something as simple as coffee consistent was definitely an odd flaw that weighed heavily on his stubborn pride, much more than any petty insult ever could. Perhaps it was the simplicity of it all that made it feel like such a thorn in his side. Hypothetically, one should be able to follow a procedure each and every morning and end up with a, if not identical, similar tasting brew each time. Well evidently that was not the case with Janus, much to his chagrin. Out of the seven days in a week, he could maybe make a decent pot only during two of those days; maybe three if he was lucky. Over the course of a year he has drunk more overheated, burnt, and under extracted cups of coffee than he could even bother to count, which he didn’t, because it was frankly beyond embarrassing at this point. If coffee wasn’t such a crucial part of his morning, he wouldn’t hesitate to label it the absolute bane of his existence. Curse those pesky grounded beans.

“...Are you alright?” A voice calls out from the other side of the kitchen. Seated at the dining table just a few feet away was Logan, halfway through a book just like he was on most days. His own empty mug casually placed atop a scattered collection of papers that no doubt contained endless notes on various facts, vocabulary words, and details of the coming week’s activities.

Of course, how could he ever forget the second most embarrassing part of his already lackluster mornings. The fact that the only other intelligent person in the living space had to watch him do this ridiculous charade every day. They’re the only ones who’d ever be awake at this time of day, as such is the fate of two people with actually proper sleeping habits. He has no clue how Logan manages to bear witness to this laughable display with a straight face, though perhaps the man was just not really paying attention. As he was, more often than not, too absorbed in hastily scribbling down notes about whatever topic had caught his attention that week to probably care about Janus constantly burning his delicate tongue over and over again. Which, to be fair, was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Totally. Right. Of course he wouldn’t want Logan to see him act a fool, why was he even asking. It’s not like anything he was doing was ever going to be as interesting as whatever the man was reading up about, as disappointing as that was. Not that it mattered currently, seeing as how for once he did manage to notice and- Aw shoot he completely forgot about that didn’t he.

Janus simply makes a face and squints, lips still slightly parted as he held his tongue between his teeth. He sighs and, with a mildly sarcastic gesture of one hand, replies with simply “Yes”.

Logan responds by raising an eyebrow, gaze still remaining firmly upon him.

Now maybe it was the way the gentle sunlight filtered through the slightly fogged up windows, or the way the dust danced under those soft golden beams, but the sight of Logan seated at the table somehow seemed to shine with an almost unfair ethereal glow. Now if only the reflection of his glasses didn’t also obscure his eyes...

Janus blinks. “Oh it’s just great.” He finally complies, rolling his eyes and ignoring the fact that he was probably just blankly staring for the past few moments. You know, like a fool. Which he was not. “Nothing big, just the usual.”

“The usual.” Logan repeats, sounding rather unimpressed. To which the snake reacts to by immediately placing a gloved hand over his heart.

“What? Don’t believe me?”

“Quite the contrary,” The other shuts his book. “I am well aware of the fact that you tend to make this mistake on a nearly daily basis.”

The record scratch was almost audible.

“You-” Janus practically stumbles at the revelation that Logan was, in fact, actually aware of his struggles with the abominable coffee machine and its products’ disastrous burning touch. Memories of his daily mishaps slowly begin to flood his mind, and as he recalled each and every previous morning, the sound of nails being hammered into what might as well be the coffin of his tattered pride echoed louder and louder in his ears. Well it was either that, or the blood that was currently rushing through them from his suddenly racing heart. For a moment he wasn’t even sure how to respond, but the creeping heat that soon invaded his face was all too prevalent to ignore; a burning sensation rivaling even that of his tongue.

In hindsight, he was perhaps the foolish one to not expect someone as perceptive as Logan to notice such things. Maybe it was wishful thinking at best. But surely nobody could’ve foreseen Logan ignoring the mistakes he was making even after taking note of it, right? Logan, who’s known to instinctively attempt to remedy mistakes when he saw them. Logan, who gets way too caught up in silly errors and misunderstanding figurative statements. Surely he would’ve said something, anything. But he knew? He knew and he didn’t say anything? He knew and he just watched as he made a fool of himself every day? What would’ve been the purpose of that? Was he secretly mocking him? Did he find this amusing? Janus winces. That thought perhaps stung more than it should have.

He quickly turns away with a flick of his capelette and pretends to occupy himself with cleaning up the counter. Focusing his attention to the obnoxious yellow of his gloves rather than the gaze he still felt on his back. “Ah, so you knew.” Janus mumbles, managing to muster up his best attempt at remaining casual. “Did you even need to ask, in that case? Didn’t think you would be paying attention to whatever I was doing.” Honestly—now ain’t that a joke—he wasn’t really even sure what else he could say to that. “You have better, less mundane things to be paying attention to, no? Surely I’m nowhere near as interesting as the books you oh so love to stick your nose in.” The soft chuckle that emanated from behind just made him want to coil up into a ball and dissipate even more, but he stands his ground. He’ll just...get through the morning and subsequently try to never think of this moment ever again. He’s totally fine.

“I wouldn’t say you aren’t interesting, Janus.”

Ok nevermind, maybe he isn’t-

“I beg your pardon?” Janus almost instantly snaps his head back towards the man at the table. A decision he immediately regrets as he locks eyes with a softly smiling Logan—gently leaning forwards as his chin rests upon crossed hands—and Janus feels his composure once again fly right out the window.

“I said I find you interesting.”

He takes a deep breath. “Don’t repeat that, I didn’t hear you.”

“I said-”

“No no, I didn’t mean that, actually stop.”

Logan quirks his eyebrow yet again, in the snarky yet triumphant way that showed when he knew he was right about something. While the confidence was admittedly charming, Janus for one really wishes he’d stop doing that. Especially right now.

“Would you like me to elaborate?”

“As a matter of fact, I would.” No he fucking didn’t, why the hell did he say that. He nods curtly, setting his coffee cup aside as he awkwardly leans against the counter for support more than anything else. Ignoring the fact that he wanted nothing more than to leave this current predicament, he hoped to god, the bastard, that the panic settling in his bones wasn’t showing on his face.

Logan smiles a little. “Well personally, I rather enjoy our time in each other’s presence during the morning.”

He enjoyed his company? “Well I certainly wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I’ve also observed that you tend to have great difficulty making your preferred morning beverage the way you like it, correct?”

Ouch. “No?”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Logan replies without pause. “While I find your persistence admirable, I think we’ve reached the point of reasonable doubt a good while ago.”

“Mhm, yeah, great. Great. And are you just going to sit there and humiliate me, or are you actually trying to make a point?” Suffice it to say, he was not a big fan of hearing about it.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to offend or belittle you in any way.”

Janus scowls. “So what? Have my mistakes finally bothered you enough to actually speak up about it?”

“Well, I had anticipated you asking for assistance one of these days, but it seems like I have underestimated your tenacity.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he opens up one of his notebooks. “Truly a miscalculation on my part.”

“Miscalculation?” He gives a weary glance at the notebook. Logan had tons of them; each one having a different color or pattern that denoted their specific purpose. A sudden realization hits him as he gets a brief glance of the yellow cover. “Have you been observing me??”

“For the past few months, yes.” The man looks back up with a click of his pen. “Is there a problem?”

Is there a problem? How the hell does he just say these things? Of course there was a problem! How in the world was he supposed to live this down knowing that Logan didn’t just notice him every morning, but also was most likely taking excessively extensive notes? He was beginning to think that his attempts to make himself less conspicuous in the morning had subsequently led him to be less perceptive about what the other was doing instead, and that was an irony that he did not want to think about right now.

“Well I simply don’t see any benefit for you in doing that.”

That actually seems to make the other take pause. “There is no benefit.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“There is no benefit.”

“You really need to stop repeating things when I-” Deep breath Janus, deep breath. “I’m not actually asking you to- Nevermind that, why are you doing this then?”

Logan lightly taps his pen against his chin. He shrugs. “I just wanted to figure out the best method of assisting you.”

“Oh and why would you ever care to do that?”

There wasn’t an immediate answer. Just a quiet, all encompassing silence interrupted by only the occasional distant chirping of birds, as the two remained where they were in the kitchen on what was supposed to be a typical Tuesday morning.

Truth was, he didn’t want to hear it. And for one moment, just that moment, time seemed to slow. As Janus stands by the counter, with the bittersweet smell of his still cooling cup of coffee gently wafting his way and his eyes still focused on the twinkling starry blue that was Logan’s eyes, something within him was absolutely terrified. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know why. Or perhaps he did, but for the sake of himself he had never dared to acknowledge it. He couldn’t. How could he? His world sat upon an ever delicate balance, and he was not one to step towards any risk of tipping that scale. So he never did. As much as he wishes he could. To be important. To be just a few feet closer. To be just one seat away. To be sitting at that table, silently listening to Logan rant about the latest book he oh so loved to stick his nose in, and to take a sip out of a cup that was not his own. As much as he wishes he could. But no, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Yet a part of him still hopes, and he curses himself for it.

Every part of his body is telling him to get out right now. To run. To spare himself the agony being here instead of literally anywhere else. To save himself before whatever words that were about to leave Logan’s mouth completely shatters the status quo that he was already accustomed to. He knew he was hoping for too much, it was too late to take anything back, and at this point even if it were just a kind hearted gesture from a well meaning acquaintance, he didn’t think his currently pounding heart could bear the affirmation of what he already suspected. It was frankly a lose-lose situation. A situation he should’ve known better than to get himself into. A situation where he knew the best solution was just to leave.

Which is why within that moment, just one moment in which time had seemed to slow, when Janus is suddenly pulled back into reality as he now finds himself glancing upwards at Logan, who was now standing a mere two feet away. He instinctively attempts to take a step back, but his heel taps against the counter, clearly surprised at the sudden shift in positioning. Had he really been that lost in thought? Janus finally breaks away his gaze to look to the side, holding his breath as if he were bracing for whatever the other had to say next.

“Am I not allowed to?” The unexpected softness in Logan’s voice was so incredibly unfair, and it obliterated any guard that he could have ever possibly put up.

“I- No, you just...” He inhales rather sharply. Get a grip. “Just why would you-”

“Janus.”

He looks back and suddenly they’re face to face, barely a few inches apart, and within moments he completely forgets how to breathe.

Logan laughs. He laughs. With a tenderness he has never seen etched across the man’s typically serious face. Janus stares, completely mesmerized by the beautiful yet admittedly confusing sight, and forgetting about just why he was so flustered not too long ago. He feels his hand be slowly taken into another as Logan lifts to hold it within both of his own.

“Would you mind if I made your coffee tomorrow morning?” He asks, voice barely a whisper and lips still curled in an enchanting smile.

It was a request that barely registers itself in Janus’ mind, but he quickly manages a nod after swallowing practically nothing; his mouth suddenly dry. The only thing he could focus on was just how darn close those lips were, or how deep his eyes were, or how he still smelled faintly of chamomile tea, or- “Please.” He states, with whatever remaining dignity he had left.

The other seemed pleased with the answer, and the silent understanding that was present between them felt almost too nice to be true, yet it managed to put all of his worries to rest. Part of Janus wishes time could stop right here, with his hand delicately held between Logan’s and his heart quietly swelling within his chest; the other part promptly snaps him out of that ridiculous fantasy to focus back on what was actually happening. Logan hadn’t yet moved from where he was.

“Uh…” Janus lightly bit his lip, the next thing almost paining him to suggest. “Could you perhaps...let go now?”

“Of course.” Logan says, loosening the hold on the other’s hand. An admittedly disappointing gesture, but it’s not like anyone was going to admit that. “There are still tasks that we must both attend to.” But before he steps back to return to his seat, he gently leans in to lift Janus’ hat and plants a soft kiss upon his forehead. The expression Janus showed as a result is surely priceless as his eyes grow wide and heat instantly flares across the rest of his face yet again. He couldn’t even get a word of protest out before Logan walks away after a small pat on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“...Right.” He replies, and promptly excuses himself from the kitchen as fast as humanly possible. He genuinely didn’t think he could handle staying there for much longer. His head was still spinning from everything that had happened, and the simple promise that was to be fulfilled the next morning sat heavily on his mind for the rest of the day. Did he know what he was doing? Was it on purpose? Was he allowed to believe in what he hadn’t thought was possible before? Janus places a hand over his forehead, the feeling of warm lips touching against his skin still rather fresh in his memories. Maybe, he could allow himself to enjoy it? What a dangerous thought, but ever so enticing. Here he thought that he could avoid it forever, and eventually it would be forgotten. Like a fool. Which he just might be.

It was something he’d probably never escape, but was it a curse? Or a blessing? Or perhaps it was neither, since neither of those things exist. But alas these feelings did, and if he couldn’t throw them away, then he’d have to keep them.

The next morning inevitably came, and with great anticipation Janus pauses a few steps before entering the kitchen. He places a hand over his heart, as if the action would somehow manage to soothe its wild rhythm, and takes a deep breath. He enters, hesitant and still groggy from just getting up, completely not knowing what to expect.

Logan was there, as usual, sitting at the dining table, papers scattered all across the surface and eyes attentively scanning through the pages of yet another book. It felt almost like a crime to disturb his concentration, but a new detail catches Janus’ eyes. A second cup, placed but a foot away from the other on the table; the area around the mug being mildly less cluttered as if to make room.

Janus finally steps forward to make his way to the table, his arrival being politely greeted with a “salutations” from the other, and immediately given an offer to sit.

“Here?” He gestures, giving a tentative glance towards where he was used to standing. A comfortable distance away, by the counter. But now that safe haven seemed so far away.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that he pulls out a chair and takes a seat. His eyes wander towards the various papers that cover most of the table’s surface. Notes, facts, and schedules, just like he always imagined. The confirmation of being correct about something never fails to amuse him. He sneaks a peek at Logan, whose gaze also shifts up from his book without lifting his head.

“Reading about coffee today are we?” Janus chuckles.

“There can be a surprising amount of depth to any subject.”

“Hmm.” Janus hums. “...Tell me about it.”

And so he does.

While the two sit in tranquil harmony, with Logan explaining the intricacies of coffee, from its history to its benefits to its various methods of consumption, and Janus patiently listening while staring down at the drink that was poured for him beforehand, in the cup that he has always used each and every morning before. Amidst the pleasant atmosphere and the comforting voice of another, he eventually takes a sip.

It was perfect.

“I’m pleased you like it.” Logan comments, noticing the content expression on his face.

“You really did your research huh.”

“It took a few months. It was difficult to gather data when there was no consistency in the methodology that you used.”

Janus coughs and glances away again, but he hears the small chuckle underneath Logan’s breath.

“I can walk you through the process one day if you’d like.”

“I think I’d rather leave it to you.”

“A wise course of action.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.” Janus mumbles, smiling a little to himself and completely accepting defeat in that regard.

Sometimes a morning is about as good as a cup of coffee. And now, sitting here at the table under the gentle light of the rising sun, perhaps every following morning could be similarly warm, fulfilling, and just as perfect as well.

After all, every cup was now going to be just the way he likes it.

#I won't always write Janus this way #but it's not my secret favorite dynamic for nothing lmao #the writing process for this fic was so funny #y'all should've seen #I think I'm happy with it despite it all and that's what counts!#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #mock writes #logan sanders #ts logan #janus sanders #ts janus #loceit #Smaller Sides to Life

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

Text

The past is never dead. It’s not even past

Bozer and Riley knew, logically, that Mac and Jack would share some bad memories. They weren't expecting to stumble across one while they were busy planning some R&R over the Pacific Ocean.

Also on AO3 ->

Bozer was still getting used to the idea of going on actual, honest-to-god missions for a US government covert agency, but even he had to admit, this one sounded pretty simple. Mac and Jack apparently had some sort of aversion to the word - the instant Riley had said it earlier, the pair of them had looked a heartbeat away from running for the hills - but all of them had had to agree that being tasked to fly to the other side of the world and sit around surveilling a suspected dead drop was about as plain sailing as it was ever going to get. They didn’t even have to confront anyone who approached said dead drop, just record and report it.

The result was, unsurprisingly, Riley and Bozer planning what they were going to do with the ample free time they were sure to have. Jack had initially made some attempt at reining them in, reminding them that as easy as it may seem, they were going there to do some actual work, but he’d given up some time ago and now seemed content to listen to them plotting in peace. Amused, Mac had just watched the whole conversation play out without a word.

It wasn’t until Bozer and Riley had spent a solid ten minutes arguing about the possible pros and cons of a natural mud spa that the blonde figured it was time to intervene. “You two know that at most Matty’s going to give us a few hours of R&R before she calls us home. All of this planning is going to go to waste.”

“If that,” Jack put in with only a touch of sullenness. “Remember that time in Trinidad? We didn’t even get a full ten minutes before we had to be back on the plane.”

Mac wrinkled his nose at the memory. His recollection was foggy given that they had more or less crawled back to the landing strip and then passed out the instant they were off the ground, but then, that was really the point Jack was making. “Right? Just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes too high.”

Bozer scowled at them both. “You two have absolutely no faith. I have no idea why Matty thinks all four of us should be on this mission but I for one fully intend to make the most of it. If you want to sit back and be negative, that’s on you.” He let that indictment hang in the air for a minute, then bumped his shoulder against Mac’s. “'Sides, you’re supposed to be helping! You must know all the best sights, right?”

Unexpectedly, that earned him a confused frown. “Should I? Why? I’ve never even been to Fiji.”

Across from them, sprawled out carelessly against his seat, Jack suddenly went rigid. The change was sharp enough that all three of them picked up on it even though the man hadn’t actually moved, staying exactly where he was like a bug under a microscope. Bozer cast a quick glance at Riley but she looked every bit as lost as he did.

Fortunately, Mac was apparently more clued in. “When was I in Fiji, Jack?” He asked quietly, his voice very gentle.

For a very long moment there was no response. Bozer considered answering the question - he’d asked Mac about tourist attractions in the first place because he remembered Mac had holidayed in the South Pacific with Nikki three summers ago - but he’d gotten the sense that maybe this wasn’t a conversation he should involve himself with. Jack still hadn’t so much as twitched and he could feel Mac tensing up beside him.

Eventually, Jack answered with a heavy sigh. “July 2015.”

A short pause. “Ah,” Mac said quietly, his eyes darting to an unremarkable spot on the floor for a second before jumping back to Jack.

The pair of them fell silent, Jack glaring sharply at the ceiling of the plane cabin while Mac watched him steadily. Evidently something significant had just happened, and Bozer had a sneaking suspicion he was at fault for whatever it was, but he didn’t think he could just leave it there. Apparently, neither could Riley. “What happened in July 2015?”

Predictably there was no response, so Bozer offered her the little that he knew. “Mac went on a ‘work trip’,” he said with quotation marks. “I thought he was in Cleveland. Then just when he was due to come home, Nikki called me. Said they were taking a last minute vacation to Fiji and I shouldn’t expect them back for another two weeks. Ended up being gone most of a month.”

At the time, it hadn’t been that weird. Logically he understood that it might sound strange to most people, but Mac had always been a somewhat inconsistent presence in Bozer’s life, even when they were kids. It was just the way he worked: Mac would go where his brain took him and he wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved whatever it was he was hoping to do. In hindsight, that long standing pattern of behaviour must have been a godsend when Mac had joined DXS and Bozer had become part of his cover.

But that was then. Now, he knew the truth of those strangely frequent, unpredictable work trips - except in all the ways that he didn’t. “I take it you weren’t in Fiji,” he asked slowly.

Mac didn’t look away from where Jack was still frozen. “No.”

“Where were you?”

He hummed. “Not entirely sure, to be honest. I think I wound up somewhere in the Ural mountains.”

Bozer tried to work out the most delicate way of asking further and found none. The deadened tone of Mac’s voice would have made it very clear it wasn’t a happy memory even if the fact that he apparently hadn’t known where he was hadn’t given it away, and his eyes hadn’t drifted from where Jack was looking more and more strained.

As Bozer floundered, Riley pressed on. “A mission gone bad?”

“In the worst way,” Mac agreed, then seemed to come awake from some reverie. He blinked, and finally looked away from his partner to take the two of them in. Whatever it was he saw on their faces, he visibly made an effort to make himself smile and relax, shaking off the grim set of his shoulders like an unwanted coat. “We were in Minsk, tasked with surveillance on a human trafficker. Turned out that he was more well-connected than we thought, and some of his friends ended up grabbing me out of our hotel room.” His voice faltered ever so slightly and he bit off whatever he was about to say next.

Bozer did some quick maths and came up feeling ill. “You were gone for a month.”

“I wasn’t with them the whole time,” Mac hurried to reassure, immediately seeing what Boze was getting at. “Jack caught up with me after about ten days.”

“It was too fucking long,” Jack murmured, the first thing he’d said in over a minute. He still hadn’t moved, but he was wearing one of the darkest expressions Bozer had ever seen on his face. “Should have got there sooner. Should never have let them take you in the first place.”

“It wasn’t your fault Jack,” Mac said with the air of someone who had already said it a thousand times, but was willing to repeat it for as long as necessary. “You were on the other side of the city when they found us. We didn’t even know that they knew we were there.” He glanced back at Bozer to explain, “Someone at the CIA leaked information. The target wasn’t supposed to have any idea there were agents in the city, but somehow his guys knew exactly what hotel room to hit. We didn’t get any warning.”

“I knew something was bogus,” Jack said, more to himself than anything. “I said it felt off, and then I fucked off and left you in that hotel on your own.”

“Instinct isn’t everything. We had no reason to suspect the hotel wasn’t safe.”

Jack shook his head sharply and said nothing more. Mac sighed, but didn’t press.

Thoroughly thrown for a loop and feeling more than a little bit guilty for inadvertently touching on what was so obviously a sore point, Bozer cast a wild-eyed look at Riley. She looked little better than he felt, pale in the harsh white of the plane’s overhead lighting. They’d both known that, in theory, Mac and Jack both had years of service behind them and that those years were likely to be host to any number of bad memories, but to have the knowledge of that so suddenly and specifically confirmed was a lot to take in.

“If you were- there for ten days,” Boze started slowly, half-knowing the answer and needing to hear it anyway, “Why were you gone for so long?”

Mac glanced back down at the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable before he settled himself. “I was in medical for a bit. Once I could shake the oxygen mask, I moved into Jack’s apartment for a few weeks. I would have been good to come home but there was- bruising.” He fumbled over the last word, waving a distracted hand at his face as though that explained anything.

For the first time since they’d broached the topic, Jack moved. He jerked to his feet with a strange lurching step, as though he hadn’t expected to do it himself, then marched towards the back of the plane, shaking his head as he went. Bozer caught the tail end of some dark mutters, but he couldn’t make anything out past the stormcloud of Jack’s expression. Startled, Riley shifted forwards to go after him, but Mac just waved her down, watching Jack’s retreating back with a careful eye before turning back to the two of them.

“He’s okay,” he said, as though that was in any way believable. “It’s not a great memory, for either of us. Despite what it sounds like, he got the worse end of the deal.”

Riley’s eyebrows rose. “You were in captivity for ten days and he had the hard time?”

“I knew he would come after me. He didn’t know what he would find when he got there,” Mac said with a shrug. He’d said it flippantly, like it was some great truth of the universe that was just the Way Things Were. Maybe to him, it was. “Sure, physically I was a mess, but that stuff heals. If I had the choice again, I wouldn’t have switched places with him for anything.”

Bozer was shaking his head slowly, trying to remember details he had brushed off as unimportant years ago. “I remember you coming home. There were bandages on your arm.” A pause, then, accusingly, “You said you got got by a jellyfish.”

Looking down, Mac tugged self-consciously at the cuff of his rolled-up left sleeve, only managing to draw attention to what he was trying to keep hidden. They were faint - so faint as to be almost invisible against his already pale skin - but for the first time Bozer was able to make out a fine tracery of scars marring the skin of his forearm like a spider’s web, twisting all the way from his wrist to beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Jesus, Mac,” Riley breathed.

“Electrical burns,” he offered as the explanation they wouldn’t have asked for. Catching their thunderstruck looks, he shifted his expression to what he probably imagined was reassuring. “It looks worse than it was, mostly; being shocked hurts like hell but there’s no real permanent damage to worry about. Honestly, most of it was superficial stuff, scarcely a mark left on me. The only reason I was in medical for as long as I was was because they had to drain my lungs and get me on antibiotics in case of infection. Could have been home within a day otherwise.”

Bozer wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Mac that made him think that explanation would do anything at all to allay their concerns, but he didn’t care for it at all. Worse than any of that though was the dawning realisation in the back of his mind that had been growing steadily ever since Mac mentioned moving into Jack’s place. “Except you couldn’t have come home,” he said quietly, needing to hear it for himself. “Because I was there.”

Mac shuffled in his seat, but held his gaze. “A couple of bruises could probably have been explained away, but I was… kind of a mess. Even if you could have believed I got hit by a car or something, all it would have taken was a few screaming nightmares to give me away. No way it wouldn’t have blown my cover.”

He sounded apologetic even as he said it, bracing himself as though he was expecting Bozer to lash out at him for something that had already been long forgiven. Sure, lying to him for years had been a shitty thing to do, but Boze understood why he had done it now, and he knew that Mac had only ever been trying to keep him safe. It might have been the wrong choice, but it was done for all the right reasons.

“Mac,” he started, uncertain and wounded and so, so guilty, “Mac, you should have been at home. After whatever it was you went though, you should have been able to recover in your own house.”

Mac blinked at him in clear surprise. Did he really not understand? Boze tried again. “I’m guessing that Jack wasn’t the only one dealing with some shit when you got back to LA and I’m not even going to pretend I can imagine what that was like. You should have been able to come home, come back to the place where you felt safe and cared for and-” He sucked in a hard breath. “And you couldn’t, because of me. I chased you out of your own house when you’d been tortured.”

The blonde was already shaking his head, looking stricken. “That wasn’t on you. Boze, that was never on you.” He finally stopped worrying at his sleeve to grip Bozer’s shoulder, tight and grounding. “I was the one who kept the truth from you. I lied to you, for years, and that’s all on me. I know that if you’d known what had happened you would have been there for me and you only weren’t because I didn’t let you.”

He wasn’t wrong and Bozer knew it, but he wasn’t exactly right either. “I get that. But you do know that you shouldn’t have had to make that choice, right? You should have been able to come home Mac.”

Riley was glancing between the two of them looking utterly lost, and Mac was starting to look not much better, so Boze took a slow breath and tried his best to let it go. He had spent years of his life trying to convince Mac that he should rank his own well-being at least somewhere on his list of priorities, and this was really just another piece of that endless puzzle. There would be time to fight that battle later. “I’m just glad you’re okay man. No lasting damage?”

Thankful for the lifeline being offered, Mac dropped his hand away from Bozer’s shoulder and shrugged lightly. “A few scars, but nothing else. Like I said, I had a surprisingly easy time of it in comparison to Jack.” His eyes darted over to where his partner had hunkered down as far from them as he could get. “And speaking of, give me a minute.”

He was on his feet and gone before either of them could even think about trying to stop him, not that they would have done. Bozer had the sense that this was a conversation they had had before, and he knew that Mac would have it handled. If there was anyone who could convince Jack that he hadn’t somehow apocalyptically failed the man he had dedicated his own life to protecting, it would be the man himself.

“How many stories do you think they have?” Riley asked quietly, soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “All the years they’ve been doing this… How much is there that we don’t know about?”

Bozer thought about the scars on Mac’s arm that he’d never really seen before, about the number of unannounced work trips he had gone on after he came back from Afghanistan. Thought about the number of times he had heard him moving around the house late at night after a nightmare, or worse, the times he’d woken up crying out in panic. He’d known for years that Jack had a protective streak a mile wide and he’d centered it firmly on Mac; before he’d known about the Phoenix, Bozer had always wondered if the man was going overboard. Now, he knew with certainty that he wasn’t.

When he met her gaze, there were tears in Riley’s eyes. “Too much.”

#MacGyver #mac #jack dalton #angus macgyver #wilt bozer #bozer #riley #riley davis #fanfiction #my fanfic #mention of torture #i don't really know what this is #weird little gremlin inspo that bit me

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hallowxiu · 4 years

Text

A Great Pear

pairing: beelzebub x gn!mc

word count: 1.4k

summary: After losing a bet to Belphie, you’re on dinner duty. While cooking in the kitchen, you run into Beel, and really, who better to try your pick up lines on?

part 4 of the mc isn’t good at pick up lines series

part one | part two | part three

A sigh escapes you as you walk down the empty hall. You were on cooking duty tonight after losing a bet to Belphie the previous day. The two of you decided to see who had the better pick up lines by turning it into a bet; the loser would take on cooking duty the next day. You knew you were getting ahead of yourself the moment he suggested making it a bet, but how were you to know that Belphie had several pick up lines up his sleeves? Still, moping over it now won’t change anything. You lost, although you’re not sure if it was fair and square, and as a person of your word, you’ll be taking on Belphie’s cooking duties for the night.

With your sleeves rolled up, you stride into the large kitchen. You have no ideas for what to whip up tonight, so it seems like you’ll just be winging it today. Your feet pad lightly against the floor as you make your way over to the fridge, pulling the doors open and scanning the shelves for anything good to cook up. “Well, that’s unnerving.” There are jars of eyes in the fridge, as well as some other ingredients that aren’t sure of, and you begrudgingly make a decision. You grab a jar of small eyes, a deep purple glass bottle from the top of the shelf, and lastly a much smaller bottle than the first, one that’s the color of a dark forest green. “Beetle eyes and cab juice it is.” Did you want to eat this? No, but you knew it was a favorite amongst the brothers. Did you know what a cab was? Other than the vehicle, absolutely not. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t know, though. You’re also not aware of what the green bottle contains, but you’ve seen Satan and Lucifer use it a lot when cooking, so it’s safe to assume (probably) that whatever it is will blend well with what you plan on making. If not, you’ll feign ignorance on how it turned out the way it did.

“What are you up to? I thought Belphie was on cooking duty tonight.” You hear your name called from behind and you turn around to see Beel lingering in the entrance of the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, I lost a bet, so here I am in his place.” You answer while laying out the ingredients across the counter. “Are you in the mood for beetle eyes tonight?” You figure it’s best to get the approval of Beel out of all the brothers. Not that he’s hard to please, but you don’t exactly want to waste your time by cooking a meal that won’t fully interest the demon.

“I’m always in the mood for beetle eyes.” He smiles at the thought and rubs his stomach in anticipation. “Cab juice?” He inquires when seeing the large bottle in your hands.

“I can hardly imagine cooking beetle eyes with anything other than cab juice.” He smiles again from your response. He watches you with keen interest when you place the bottle of cab juice down. You glance over at the green one, turning it over to see if there was any label. “Squid essence.” You read out slowly when finding a very worn looking label. What the hell was squid essence? Ink? Then why wouldn’t it just be labeled as squid ink?

“That’s squid essence.” Beel repeats what you said, though he elaborates on it further for you as if he can read your mind, “it’s the soul of the squid. It’s the most delicious part, but I wouldn’t use too much of it if I were you. It’s expensive and hard to get in the Devildom; Lucifer will be upset if you end up using all of it.” He pauses after he explains, watching as you fill a rather large pot with water. You turn the sink off and then set it down, turning on the electric stove top for the water to boil. “I’ve never seen someone use squid essence in beetles eyes with cab juice. I can’t help but wonder how that’ll come out. It sounds good; you might just create a masterpiece.” Yeah, okay, you think to yourself. If by dumping a ton of random shit into a pot and calling it a night results with a masterpiece, then so be it.

“Are you hungry?” The question falls from your lips when you twirl around to look at Beel. He’s hungrily eyeing the jar of eyes and, instinctively, you pull the jar closer to yourself. “I think I saw some fruit in the fridge. Why don’t you help yourself to some of that while you wait for dinner?” You find yourself suggesting. Before you can even finish the question, Beel’s darting toward the fridge. He pulls out a couple of pears and places them into a wooden bowl while you keep your eyes on the unboiled water. You smile to yourself when you catch him taking a bite out of the pear.

Beel immediately notices the grin spreading on your lips, and the redhead raises an eyebrow at you. “What are you thinking of? I’ll share if you want one.” You shake your head in response when he holds out a pear for you.

“I’m just thinking.” You respond with a smile. You pop the lid off the jar of eyes when the water finally comes to a boil.

“Thinking? What are you thinking about?” Beel asks as you pour the contents of the jar into the pot.

“I just can’t help but think,” you open the bottle of cab juice, the pungent smell of black liquid making you take a step back, “that we make a great pear.” Your voice cracks from the smell of the juice and the emphasis on the word pear is almost lost, but when you glance back you can see the wide smile on Beel’s face. Ah, so it wasn’t lost on him; that’s good to know, you think in relief.

“That was a good one.” There’s a lightness to his voice when he says your name. “Tell me another one.”

“About pears?” You ask dumbly.

“Do you have more about pears?”

“Uh,” it takes you a moment to think as you carefully add the cab juice in with the beetle eyes, “about pears? I don’t think so.”

“Then I will find another fruit.” Beel says with determination in his voice. You can hear him as he places the empty bowl on the counter (when did he eat all the pears?) and opens the fridge again, digging around for what you’re assuming is a different fruit. “It’s not a fruit, but,” Beel closes the fridge when he finds what he’s looking for, “what about this?” You angle your head so that you can look at him without taking your full attention off the pot in front of you. You snort to yourself when looking at the cucumber in his hand.

“I thought you were going to grab a fruit.”

“There weren’t any more.” There’s a frown on his lips as he speaks.

“Ah, fine, fine. Give me a moment, will you?” He nods his head sharply at your request. You dig around for something to stir the soup with, a lightbulb popping over your head as you grab a wooden spoon. “Are you a vegetable? Because you’d be a cute-cumber.” He smiles happily as he takes a bite out of the vegetable, a faint red dusting his cheeks.

“I like that one too. Another one.” Okay, you weren’t made of food pick up lines. You can only remember so many. “Only one more.” You’re starting to believe that Beel might actually be able to read your mind. He watches silently when you bend over, pulling out a cheese grater from the lower cabinet.

“This may be cheesy, but I think you’re grate.” He giggles at this, actually giggles and you can feel your heart do a flip in your chest. That was so cute, you cry inwardly to yourself.

“Thank you. I’m content for now.” For now? You’re not sure what that means, but you think you have a good hunch that he might be coming back for more pick up lines in the near future.

“I’m glad, because dinner is ready.” You hum as you add just a few drops of the squid essence. You really hope you didn’t just fuck up the recipe.

As it turns out, yes, squid essence does go well with beetle eyes and cab juice. Good on you.

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kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years

Text

Infinity Factor (Request)

Pairing: Batfam x batsis

Synopsis: You were born with what many would call a curse. From the reality last, where characters like Batman and Wonder Woman are just characters and everything was “real”, you had just died and now, as a result you were living this curse once more and have just been born into another universe. What you don’t know is that you’ll have to die for those you love until all your time here is exhausted. Thus, creating the Infinity Factor.

Note: (This was Google Translated so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong but it’s in the story) ‘ukhti alhabiba = my beloved sister (Arabic) ‘akhi alhabiba = my beloved brother

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 2383

Bruce had found you on the streets of Gotham in the harsh winter during one of his nightly patrols. It was a routine thing to find the corpses of the homeless during this time which had desensitized him from any sort of event like this. What he wasn’t used to however was finding a screaming baby girl wrapped up in bundles of old cloth laying in the trash by itself with no other being around. That night, against all odds, you were alive. He took you home to Alfred’s care and immediately after that adopted you as he tends to have a habit of. ———————————————————————

The first time you died was saving your father from a gunshot fired by an estranged guest at one of the galas. It was in the middle of him talking to one of the CEO’s that was invited and you that terrible feeling something would happen. You knew from the start that something was off but figured that Bruce would have to know too. The moment you saw him pull the small revolver, this unknown force just made you jump in front of Bruce. The shot fired and you took it. From there, everything was pitch black. You knew you weren’t done yet since you didn’t immediately wake up somewhere unknown to you.

Instead, it was a miserable rest of the night for everyone else. You were rushed into the hospital and pronounced dead after only a few minutes upon arrival. The sounds of Bruce’s cries were what woke you up. Slowly light started flooding your senses and you heard the sudden starting of a heart monitor. Doctors came rushing in and the look of shock on your father’s face never your memories.

———————————————————————

From then on you were known as the “Miracle Child” of the Wayne family. You didn’t particularly care for the nickname seeing as this thing that you had going on was never really a miracle, however there were many more incidents that proved this name to be a fitting one for more and more people.

One by one, over the years Bruce had accumulated adopted many more children. All were at varying ages but you all came to know them as your family. This was the first real family you’d had in a considerable amount of lives and this time, you didn’t want to lose them. They didn’t want to lose you either. The curse that was bestowed upon you was like a double -edged sword. On one end, you might die for just a few minutes or even a day or two at most once you took a bullet, knife, sword, bomb, etc... for them. On the other hand, you might take that death and never wake up in this world. You lived every day in fear that something might happen to them thus, resulting in your own ultimate despise from this universe.

The family knew this well. Jason and Damian especially. For someone who was roughly around Tim’s age, you had died a total of 14 times. Every week dreams flooded your mind of either some strange world you might come to live in, or the tragic and often graphic ways in which you had previously parished. The dreams of new worlds were often enticing and enthralling, however the latter was not. On nights you did have those bad dreams, someone was there with you under most circumstances.

———————————————————————

This night wasn’t any different from past nights leading to this. It was a quiet night in Gotham during your own patrol. Nothing too strange was occurring and you certainly didn’t feel otherwise unsafe from the typical standard. Gliding from roof top to roof top, you were having the time of your life. It was an interesting aspect being on the ground below during the day but at night soaring above the tiny cars and street lights below.

You didn’t stop until reaching a building where Bruce had found you in the diamond district that fateful January’s night. Walking to the front ledge of the building, you looked down on the streets and alley ways below. You had a habit of really looking carefully and even staring at some spots getting lost in what things in the shadows might be. Maybe it was a trashcan that looked especially off, or sometimes it was a cat casting a strange shadow in the city light’s glow, however, you always saw it.

The unfailing and ever-present observation skills you picked up now were starting to register a different sound. It sounded as though someone were in great distress and the noise emanating from this signaled their near demise. Without a moment’s notice you could hear Duke’s voice coming onto the speakers. This was one of the nights that he decided to come on patrol since Steph had come down with the flu.

“Someone’s been shot in the 6th Street – 5th Street alleyway. I’ve got this one handled.” He said.

No time had passed from the end of that call to the moment you leaped off the building in the largest rush of your life, pulled by the same unknown force from so many times ago. Tears began to spring from your eyes knowing what was going to happen to you. You wiped your cheeks and carried on in pursuit of this killer so that Duke wouldn’t have to face what fate was so cruelly handing him if you weren’t quick enough. You knew that in consequence to what you were about to do, you’d be given his fate.

It was dark when you reached the alleyway, there were no signs of any beings but for the woman laid on the cold concreate ground below. You saw the pain in her eyes and knew that she wasn’t gone yet. With this curse came another trait, you knew when someone was close to death. She wasn’t near it, not yet at least. Before jumping down the building, you dropped a flash bomb. It wasn’t enough to seriously startle the woman, it was just enough for you to see where the culprit was fast enough so that you’d be able to get him. The moment the light went off, trashcans started to fall. You knew where he was and without missing a beat, you jumped into your death knowing full well what was waiting for you down there.

Duke wasn’t far behind. In fact, you had heard his calls and pleads not to go down there by yourself. Those were all obviously ignored seeing as you were now in the middle of a gunfight with two men. They didn’t seem to pose much of a threat compared to your training. It was the woman that knocked you off your guard some. You knew you had to get her to cover or she’d be shot by a stray bullet. That was Batman’s second rule. Don’t let bystanders be killed in your own fight. So that’s what you followed. With bullets flying and two fully grown men screaming at you to give up, you dragged her out of the way and into a safe place where the brick wall would give her cover as long as she didn’t move.

“The woman that’s been shot is behind the wall for cover. Do not come out, I repeat urgh!” Your line went dead.

Everyone listened in horror as a final gunshot went off. They heard what they hoped was you hitting the guy in the back of the head with his own revolver, and then a thud along with one other. They knew what that second thud was. It was Duke who found you dead, in a pool of your own blood. Next was your oldest brother, and then Bruce. They all kept coming until finally, Damian was there crying into your shoulder, your own blood now staining his costume darker red.

No one spoke the rest of the way home. Bruce had you in the Batmobile to take you to the cave. Alfred was notified to open the room in which your body was to lay for at least three days. If you weren’t awake by then, you were certainly dead. In you went, each leaving and revisiting one by one. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t be able to leave. Not at all. From inside, the door was unlocked and Alfred always left a note explaining that in case you awoke and didn’t understand what was happening. You always understood, sometimes it just took a while for you to really grasp what had happened.

———————————————————————

Hours and minutes ticked by. Every few hours or so, someone would visit outside your door and just stay there in either silence or in a conversation about their day. They knew you didn’t hear it, it was just nice feeling like you were still there in some way listening to their tirades on the idiot at the mall who didn’t know where they were going and was holding up the line. Or maybe it was someone at WE who wasn’t good at deals and negotiations and either wanted too much or demanded too little thus, a bargain was made almost at their expense. Either way, they always came to you to talk, even if you couldn’t answer back.

When you finally did awaken, the lights were dimmed as they usually are. Inside was the fresh smell of your favorite candle which smelled like Alfred’s cookies and a few inches from it as to not start a fire, was a hand- written note by Alfred himself explaining where you were and how to get out of the room. You stayed in silence for a bit, crying to yourself over what you had experienced. The wound in your chest were gone and only a scar was left. Another “plus” of this curse was that your wounds healed without assistance or closure.

Once the reality of it all had crept into your mind and you knew for certain that you were safe and home, you slowly opened the door. It was a bit brighter when the main part of the cave came into view. You wasted no time looking around for your family after using the bathroom that was downstairs close to where you were. They didn’t seem to be in the cave at the time being. Looking up at the bat-computer, you saw that it had been a full 27 hours since your death and right now, everyone should have been planned to be somewhere but for Damian, Alfred, and your father who would all be at home.

Carefully, you climbed up the stairs and into the room where Bruce had set the main entrance into. It was hidden away and separate from the clock but none the less, everyone in the family knew about it. You made your ways through the halls not really knowing where to find anyone. You didn’t need to go into your bedroom since you were already in clean and comfortable clothes from the night of your death. The wood floors felt cold under your feet which is something that took a minute or two to get readjusted to but none the less, you continued on not to be deterred by something that mundane and simple.

After not finding anyone in the lower wing of the house, you went upstairs straight to your father’s bedroom. You knew someone would either be there or in your room. Heading up the stairs, you found that there was no one in sight.

“Maybe I should call someone?” You thought.

Someone was always meant to be at the house when this kind of thing happened, however the manor was large and on many acres of land so even if there was someone there, you might not ever find them. You continued on back down the third flight of stairs and came to your own floor. Well, it wasn’t really your own floor, it was just where you room was. Slowly passing the opened doors of the other bedrooms just as Alfred kept them for air circulation, you made it to your room. The door was also wide open and the lights were not on.

Stepping into your room however, you were met by a tear stained, wide eyed boy. Damian sat staring at you, his green eyes dimmed and darker from what crying he must have been doing. He sat on your bed, wrapped in one of your own blankets that sat on the chair you used to read him stories in. Immediately after registering your very alive self, he jumped up practically tackling you to the floor.

“‘ukhti alhabiba!” He cried into your shoulder, “I m-missed you so much.”

The two of you held each other as close as possible which wasn’t hard considering he was still very small in stature at this age.

“I missed you too ‘akhi alhabiba.” You looked down at him and eventually up at Alfred and Bruce who had come from checking on you in the cave only to come up empty handed.

Both of the men dropped to the floor holding you tight. There were some words of welcome back and others of happiness in gladness of your resurrection, but mostly tears. Bruce had contacted the rest of your family by now and they were all on their way. You knew when they got back, it would be a house full of crying bats.

Now, only fifteen minutes later, everyone was there on the floor, huddling around you. You knew that you were safe in this moment. The smaller screams of joy in seeing you from your brothers entering the room made you sure of that. Damian hadn’t moved and Dick was latched onto you as well. You and Duke had almost had a facial expression conversation all including a sorry, gratitude, and a, “happy you’re back” moment. Jason wouldn’t really admit that he was sobbing that day even though everyone knew and Tim was so sleep deprived that he almost passed out upon seeing you. Either way, there wasn’t some crazy force pulling you into danger like those kind of this typically do. Instead, it was another even crazier and mind- boggling force that pulled you and your family closer together in the mourning a lost life, and finally the celebration of a restored one.

I had no idea where I was going to take this tbh lol. I had a good idea from the request but it wasn’t until I actually started writing that I was like ohhh okay. I hope you guys liked this one though, it was fun to write. Anyways, I hope you’re all doing great and staying safe and healthy. Have a wonderful day and rest of the week!

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cant-blink · 3 years

Text

Half-Life, Ch. 3

Summary: Gigan takes Ghidorah on their first “date” to the bar. We learn a few things about this three-headed dragon.

Normally, the flight from a planet into the void of space was the most satisfying part of his mission.

The thought of the carnage he left behind, a planet burning beneath him and rendered completely uninhabitable. The complete extermination of life, the knowledge that it was all from his own hard work. He adored the strength of his wings fighting the gravitational pull, the feeling of the air thinning, and at last, the weightlessness of space.

The sight of the stars all around, promising more worlds for him to destroy. So many lives to toy with.

The wave of cosmic energy that would hit his scales, rejuvenating him. Feeding off the energy through the membrane of his wings, healing his wounds and restoring his strength for the journey ahead. Under normal circumstances, he would then cocoon himself within an asteroid produced by his own body, reducing himself to a pure energy form. Content and happy, he would fall into dormancy, his asteroid drawn towards planets one after another until his moon-shaped crests would pick up signs of life to awaken him once more.

But this was not normal circumstances and as he flies higher through this world’s atmosphere, the only thing that coursed through him was not satisfaction, but anger, hatred, frustration...

And dread...

Breaking free of the planet’s hold, Ghidorah felt the cosmic waves flowing over him, speeding his regeneration to be almost instantaneous. The pain coursing through his back with every stroke of his wings had disappeared.

The pain in his middle head, however, remained. The injury there has healed, but the newly-active chip gave a very uncomfortable sensation. He wanted to chew at the spot, scratch at it with a foot, but he knew it was useless. Even if he could will his body to perform the action, chewing and clawing it out would only result in his own death.

Granted, death would probably be preferable to what fate the half-life had in store for him.

He kept glancing back towards the planet. He wasn’t used to leaving a world only half-destroyed. It went against every fiber of his being and his impulses fought against the mind-control in vain. Always in vain.

His glare fastened on the cyborg, and the light from the blue giant star that reflected off the metal armor was almost blinding. It was obnoxious, as was the look of expectation given to him. He wanted to just fly off in the opposite direction, just to spite him, but of course, he couldn’t. Absolutely infuriating, being trapped in a body that was no longer his to control.

At the silent order, Ghidorah felt his wings fold close and his tails moving to curl around himself. All three of his heads lowered, his legs tucked in and wings wrapping around himself. Red wisps like flames came from his scales, until it engulfed him and his body became energy. Stone began forming around him, its minerals perfect for holding his vast energy and absorbing in more cosmic rays to ensure he did not weaken during his hibernation.

At least in said hibernation, he can forget...

“Your name is Ghidorah. You were created to be ultimate weapon.”

Those telepathic words have been imprinted in his mind for as long as he could remember. Repeated over and over, his Masters would put these thoughts into his mind, to the point where it provided some level of comfort to the young dragon.

And at this stage of his development, comfort was very important.

There was darkness around him, even in a well-lit sterile room beyond the membrane that held him. His eyelids were still sealed, having not yet opened to experience the light he would instinctively seek out as an adult. His ears were still closed, and his scales were soft. Occasionally, one of his tongues would flick out, but the only scent he would pick out was his own, in the nourishing goo around him.

His only real sense was that of his well-developed crests. He could feel irresistible auras, all around him. Every so often, several of these auras would get closer, more potent, so close that his three jaws would snap open through instinct. Muscles in his chest would tighten, but the organs housing his gravity beams has not yet fully matured and held no energy within.

He would calm when the auras faded back into the noise. He still desired them, though, and every time he woke from his sleep, he would test the boundaries of his egg, kicking at the membrane uselessly. But the day will come closer, when he will be ready to emerge. Then he can snuff out those auras, and it would be amazing.

"The Universe is a terrifying place,” the message would continue. “You will make it safer, for all of us."

Safer.

He felt pretty safe now, growing steadily within his warm confines. He had never experienced fear, or pain, and it would take several more weeks before he had his first taste of it...

He had grown substantially, easily twice the size he once was just weeks ago. His wings were growing the fastest, wrapped tight around him like an extra blanket within the membrane. Said membrane was expanding, stretching over his scales. Those scales were more developed, a distinct keeled look to each one. His eyes were open, sleepy and unfocused, but he saw the light.

He wanted that light...

Especially when he felt the aura growing stronger. His red eyes can make out movement, a blurred shadow looming by him. The impulse to lash out at it was powerful, and already two of his three jaws had opened. By now, only sparks escaped and deteriorates into the goo.

“The Universe is a terrifying place,” the message replayed again, but this time, it added more. “It’s filled with violent races that seek to destroy those who only wish to live in peace. You will be the savior that fights for those innocents, that cleanses the universe of those dark forces. But first...”

He felt something odd, brushing against the mane of his middle head. The first time a foreign object touches him. It lacked an aura, but nonetheless, his left head automatically moved to bite the thing with tiny fangs, an-

A stabbing pain came from the back of his middle head. His legs kicked out, the membrane stretching from the movement, but not yet giving out. His wings and tails push against his home, his prison, as he tried to escape the pain.

The sharpness left just as quickly as it had appeared, but it left the pain behind, as well as a very wrong feeling. Like something foreign on his body. IN his body.

“You will hold great power and to focus that power, we have given you a gift...”

Ghidorah snapped awake even before the half-life gave the signal that they have arrived. It was not often he had dreams like that, reliving such old memories. It honestly pissed him off.

A gift, that’s what his old Masters called it. Even back then, he knew that was completely false. By ‘focus’, they meant kept under THEIR control. This damn chip and all the trouble it caused has plagued him even before he hatched! If he had lungs and the concept of sighing, he would have done so at this moment. Seems even in hibernation, he cannot be left in peace.

It takes a moment before he was calm enough to notice the presence of lifeforms, many more besides the cyborg that held him hostage. He felt the vibration of his stone cocoon, hears the muffled voice of the half-life calling out to him.

Wait, hear him? That means there has to be an atmosphere. He didn’t feel the impact of striking a planet or another celestial body.

“Wake up!” the half-life continued, still banging against the asteroid for no reason other than to annoy him, he’s sure.

Ugh, just hearing that stupid voice made him wanna go back into hibernation, much less the damn incessant knocking. But alas, he felt his own energy escape the stone, rendering it to dust before he took form. He opened his eyes, and his sight was immediately assaulted with pink. A vivid purple-pink everywhere.

Where was he?

He looked around, the haze stretching in all directions with no sign of an end. All six of his eyes swept the area before all meeting right at the cyborg.

"The bar is over there," The half-life told him, pointing a claw towards a nearby asteroid. "Clean yourself up. I want you looking your best. Y’know, before I ruin you."

Ghidorah lets out a growl at those words, and that growl gets even louder as he automatically moved to groom himself. He always took pride in his appearance, as a dragon should. But as much as he enjoyed grooming, the fact he wasn’t doing it because he wanted to took away all enjoyment.

It isn’t made better by how the half-life was watching him. Damn thing enjoying the show? He wanted to gravity beam that face. Especially when he starts flying closer. Ghidorah felt himself go on edge, wanting to move away to keep the distance, but his body refused to stop cleaning itself.

Unfortunately, it was the half-life himself that stopped the grooming session, one of his claws once more hooking around the back of his middle head and pulling him down.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” came the retort. “Especially with any of your damn back-talk.”

Ghidorah narrowed his eyes, especially when the crest on his forehead was touched by the half-life’s other claw. His crest was glowing quite strongly, as it tended to do when a high concentration of life-energy was nearby. They were quite sensitive and he did not like the sensation of anyone touching them, much less this disgrace of a kaiju.

He nonetheless held still as the half-life examined his crests for whatever reason before he caught a whisper.

“You feel them, don’t you? This is what you mean with your crests ‘filtering’ my presence. They never glowed this brightly for me.” The half-life’s voice had a very odd edge to it. It almost sounded like this fool was...

Was he jealous?! That didn’t make sense to the dragon. Why in the void would he be jealous over something like this? He can’t control how brightly his crests glowed; it all depended on the size and number of the lifeforms in the area! It’s not his fault this idiot had his aura tainted so badly and was hardly considered alive! But Ghidorah didn’t respond with these sharp words no matter how much he wanted to, the chip rendering his tongue frozen. All he can do is hide a wince when the claw tapped against the moon-shaped structure.

He heard a grunt before the cyborg continued in a cold tone, despite the foul smirk on his beak. “Remember when I said we can kill a few folks here? I lied. For once, you’re going to have some damn self-control and not kill any of them. Got it?”

There was a slight widening of his eyes. Never before has he been given an order that so blatantly went against what he was created for. His old Masters, every other alien race that took advantage of him, wanted him to kill. Sure, they wanted specific targets killed, but killed nonetheless. But this... IDIOT decides he was going to waste his time, waste his talents, for... WHATEVER it was that one did at these ‘bars’. He was convinced the cyborg was only doing this to irritate him further, and it was working! If he wasn’t pissed off before, he definitely was now!

“Yes.” That word still escaped him, monotone and lacking any of the anger fuming within his mind. And it only gets worse when it rouses a snicker from the half-life and he felt that metal-coated beak touch the scales of his snout. The left mandible seemed to caress under his jaw, the cyborg moving it side-to-side against his skin. He wanted to pull away, willed every fiber of his body to get him away, but he can’t move.

“You missed a spot.”

What was that supposed to me-

He froze when he felt something wet and warm slide against the scales of his face. His right head could see the half-life running his tongue along his snout and lips. He had no idea what to do with this, as nobody has ever made such moves towards him before. He didn’t like it, at all! He wanted to bite, to blast the half-life in the face, push him away with his heads. ANYTHING!!

But he can’t do anything, except endure.

He closed his eyes, all six of his eyes, just counting the seconds for this to be over. He felt the creature’s tongue push into his mouth, and the urge to bite down and tear it off was through the roof! It was so damn frustrating, and the seconds crawled slower in his mind before finally, the half-life pulled away.

“Hm,” he heard from the cyborg, his middle-set of eyes opening to see the face just inches from his own. The glare he gave was intense, but the other kaiju doesn’t seem bothered. If anything, the half-life seemed encouraged to rest his beak on his nose as he chuckled. “We’ll work on it~.”

Ghidorah didn’t want to work on anything except this thing’s death. How DARE this inferior creature pulled such a stunt with him, and to think, it was only going to go downhill from here! Swear, for every second he had to wait during that, he was going to make the cyborg suffer ten times longer when he breaks free from this! But he couldn’t speak any of the thoughts going through his mind. Damn this chip, taking away everything including his voice!

He felt the claw holding his head down slide off, the edge teasing the fur of his mane before the creature turned away.

“Let’s go.”

He flew towards the asteroid he pointed out the bar being on. Ghidorah lingered where he was for a moment, but alas, his wings gave a flap through the atmosphere and followed after him.

“Hey, McLegsalot!”

“Don’t call me that,” came the retort as Gigan sat down and made himself comfortable. A winged centipede-like kaiju squinted ten beady eyes at the cyborg, his antennae brushing over his face and chest. The four pairs of arms cleaning the glasses slow to a halt. “Gigan?”

“Scolopendra. Long time, no see. Loving my new look?”

“This is what you’re doing to undo your ban? Slap on a new paintjob and pretend you’re someone else?”

“Nah, if I was going to do that, I’d put on chainsaws instead of these,” Gigan responded, lifting the blades on his arms. “Less obvious that way. Anyway, what’s a little ban between friends, huh? Mind giving me the usual?”

“I’m not giving you anything. I-” The centipede cuts himself off, glancing off to the side before muttering. “Look, man, I ain’t losing my job over this. Last time you were here, we had to rebuild everything from the ground up thanks to your little drunken tirades. Like hell, we’re doing all that again.”

Gigan waved a claw dismissively. “Don’t worry your pretty little antennas over it-”

“It’s antennae, you dumb fuck.”

“-I’m not here to make a mess. I just want a nice, quiet time. Honest. So-”

“HA!”

“-Soooo,” Gigan drawled, refusing to back down from this little game. “Why don’t you just give me a drink and we can carry on the night like usual.”

“What part of ‘you’re banned from this establishment’ do you not understand? Hell, if Mr. Mavex finds you here-”

“And I told you, not to worry about it. Your boss won’t even have time to think about you, much less fire you.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how this works.”

“It will, trust me. Y’see, I brought along a date an-”

“Oh, for fuck sake, Gigan,” the centipede interrupted, shaking his head as the cyborg glanced over his shoulder and gave a loud shrill whistling noise. “How many times do I have to say this, I’m not going to...”

The centipede’s voice trailed off, as all the patrons within a ten-mile radius suddenly went quiet. A very large three-headed silhouette loomed at the entrance towering above all other customers, long serpentine necks lowering as Ghidorah entered the doorway. Gigan found the silence to be amazing, and he gave a smirk as the many-legged kaiju reared up to eye-level with his four clear wings fanned out. Typical defensive stance, never gets old seeing it.

“I’d like you to meet Ghidorah,” he started in a smug tone. “King Ghidorah. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, yes?”

At once, everyone made a hurry to vacate the vicinity, as Scolopendra glared at the cyborg. “You led that thing right to us! Are you insane?!” Gigan knew he didn’t have to answer that, but he does anyway with a cheeky little grin.

“Only a little.”

He glanced back at Ghidorah, whose six eyes were locked on the smaller creatures fleeing from him. He can see the spark of bloodlust in those eyes, the familiar instincts to give chase and end them all. But as expected, the dragon could do no such thing. At least-

“Now, about that ban...” Gigan continued casually, as everything ran amok behind him. “I told him not to do any harm to anyone, but if you really insist on denying me drinks...” He reveled in the angry look the bartender gave to him and he settled his blades on the bar, propping himself up a bit as he leaned closer. “I’ll take the usual, yeah? For two.”

Those eyes stay locked on him for a long moment before Scolopendra finally backed off and went to prepare his drinks. That’s more he liked it and he leaned back on his seat. “Glad you can listen to reason, Legs. I’m sure your boss will too.” He heard a nasty grumble from the bug but he disregards it as his eye returns to his golden prize, who was now staring at the bartender intensely.

“Hey,” he called out, earning the dragon’s attention. He nodded towards the chair beside him. Ghidorah glanced towards it and wandered over. It was adorably awkward, watching the dragon attempt to sit on a chair that was too small for him. Gigan couldn’t keep in a chuckle. “Lean on me~”

It still delighted him, that Ghidorah could do nothing to resist his orders. He felt the hydra press up against his side, those scales felt cold compared to their surroundings, but the cyborg didn’t mind. He nuzzled his beak against that golden hide, his mandibles nipping playfully before the bartender returned with his order.

“Good man,” Gigan snickered, his tail moving to clasp onto the glass. He caught Scolopendra eyeing at the dragon as he placed the glass down in front of him, and he was quick to show off his prize. “Told you I had a date.”

“A date?” Scolopendra responded skeptically. “Or another one of your meatshields?”

“Hey, hey, no need to be like that.” Gigan gave a chuckle as he took a sip of his drink. Ah, still tasted the same as he remembered. He took a bigger gulp. “And what do you mean, ANOTHER meatshield? Don’t act like you don’t miss those old days. All the plundering and pilfering, great times.” Another gulp. “Not my fault you got yourself trapped in here.”

“Pretty sure it was,” the centipede grumbled. “When you threw me under the bus while you ran away like a coward.”

“Like a pirate~.”

“Like a coward.”

“Meh, don’t take it so personal, Legs. I was going to come back for you, but you were already gone and now...” Another swig. “Who am I to tell you this ‘honest’ life is boring? After all, you're giving me free drinks.”

“This piece of work...” Scolopendra hissed with another shake of his head, before looking to Ghidorah. “And you’re dating this? What do you even see in him?”

The cyborg gave a short, sharp laugh as he brought his glass back up to his beak for another go, intending to respond for his partner when-

“No, I’m not ‘dating’ him.” Gigan heard Ghidorah growl softly and he sputtered mid-gulp. But the dragon doesn’t stop, maintaining direct eye-contact with him with all six eyes. “The half-life coward did the same to me, tried to abandon me in a fight. Watching Godzilla blast him out of the sky was the single most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen.”

Moment of silence, as Gigan glared towards his slave harshly. Didn’t he tell this asshole not to speak unless spoken t-

Dammit, Scolopendra spoke to him and now this bastard was taking every advantage of it to ruin everything! Well, two can play at that game. Glancing at the centipede, who was now giving him a Look, he pushed the drink closer to his partner.

“Heh, stop kidding around, babe. Tell the bug you’re joking.”

The smirk returned to Gigan’s face as Ghidorah did as told immediately. “You’re joking.” AND that smirk died just as quickly as it appeared.

Oh, this smartass mother-fuckin’ piece of-

Without warning, he struck a blade across the chest of the dragon, who jolts back and loses balance from his chair. The ground trembled from the impact as he fell, and Gigan gave his partner no time to recover as he stomped a foot onto the gash he left. This earned a pained snarl from the dragon, but Ghidorah does nothing to retaliate as the cyborg once more hooked a claw around that middle head, leaning in to hiss directly into this asshole’s ear.

“How about this: You don’t speak, at all, unless I directly address you. Now shut up, and drink your damn glass.”

They continued to lock glares for a moment, before Gigan lets him go and sits back on his seat. Ghidorah took a moment to get up, blood seeping from the wound but he does nothing to tend to himself. He instead looked at the drink, glanced at Gigan’s glass, then back to his own. The middle head leaned down and a forked tongue slips out his mouth and barely brushes the surface of the drink.

“Well?” Gigan persisted impatiently. “I said, drink.”

The dragon growled but said nothing as he began lapping up the drink. And no sooner had he done that, that he began gagging and what liquid he managed to swallow came right back up, seeping from the corners of his mouth. He opened said mouth and allowed it to spill its contents onto the bar.

“Oh, what the hell!?” Scolopendra barked, jumping back as the puddle sparked for a moment before petering out. The multi-legged kaiju shot a glare at the cyborg. “You said no messes!”

“Oh, ho~!!” Gigan chortled, ignoring the bug. “Didn’t take you to be THAT much of a lightweight! Or does it really taste that bad?” He shot Scolopendra a teasing look, but the centipede was having no more of his shenanigans, leaving the mess with them as he resumed cleaning glasses on the OTHER end of the bar. Meh, whatever, Gigan had better entertainment next to him. “Drink the whole thing, babe. It gets better as you go.”

His tail clasped Ghidorah’s glass, holding it to the dragon’s lips. Of course, Ghidorah couldn’t refuse and opened his mouth to receive the drink. And no sooner did it go down his throat than his stomach gave another heave to expel it. Well then...

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad,” Gigan grunted, glancing at the glass. He was a little bit annoyed that his new partner was having this reaction to his favorite drink. “Is the taste too strong for you?”

Ghidorah glared at him with venom before responding in that beautiful monotoned voice. “I taste nothing.”

...

Gigan would blink his eye if he could; he wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting to hear, but that certainly wasn’t it. Was this dragon serious? Who’s he kidding, of course this dragon was serious! He really can’t taste anything? Then why was he spitting it all out? Can he not drink alcohol? Did the hydra’s body take it as a toxin and thus something to be rid of? Time to find out...

“Hey, Scoli!”

“Clean it up yourself.”

“Not that, you idiot. I need you to give a glass of water. Just. Water.”

The centipede doesn’t even turn to look at him, continuing to clean before placing one of those glasses down and filling it with ice water before sliding it over to the cyborg. Gigan stopped it with a blade before pushing it pointedly towards the dragon.

“How about this one?”

“I said, I taste nothing.”

“Don’t care. You’re still going to drink this.”

Ghidorah sneered at him as he turned to the water. This time, he took it with one of his jaws, teeth closed over the glass delicately yet firmly. It looked a bit awkward to the cyborg, but he imagined the hydra didn’t have many situations where he would need to manipulate objects. Ghidorah took a sizeable gulp from it, and just as the alcohol had done previously, so too did this water. The dragon heaved and out it all came, all over the floor with more sparks.

Gigan watched this for a moment, less than amused. So the dragon can’t consume ANYTHING at all; did his creators not see a purpose in it? Well, isn’t that just great! Ghidorah really was being a pain in the ass right now, wasn’t he? All he wanted was a night of fun with his future mate, show him off, get them both plastered before the main event. But of course that can’t happen, can it? The dragon just had to make fools out of both of them. He lets out a huff, forcing a crooked smile onto his beak. He will have his fun, Ghidorah be fucked.

“Fine, more for me. Keep ‘em coming, Legs! We’re gonna be here a while.”

#ghidorah #king ghidorah #gigan #godzilla #gigadorah #mah random thought of space booze returns!!#also my joke kaiju is now real #gigan is a space pirate :3 #ghidorah is not having fun right now #it'll only go downhill from here

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

Text

Not So Hard To Say Goodbye (SETL, ETD Part Three)

Word Count: 1,683 Prompt: Right Behind You Baby Day: 24/28

TW: Character death, gunshot tomfoolery (wound resulting in death).

Note: I exclusively listened to Georgenotfound’s Only Fans on repeat while writing this. Do with that information what you will. A single line. That was the barrier between Sole being undercover and genuinely being part of the Institute. It had blurred, somewhere along the way, and they felt as if they were slipping from the hold the Railroad’s ideology had on them. Maybe it was the shelter from the Wasteland, a space where they could fantasize about a life outside the constant attacks and the losses they had suffered, or maybe it was because Father was the last thing tying them to a life that had long abandoned them.

It was comforting, to be surrounded by furniture that wasn’t tainted by bloodstains and dirt. They were weak, they knew, to be so willing to give up everything they’d dedicated the past few years to just for comfort, but they weren’t too proud to admit that. They had nothing to return to, after all. The Railroad was a falling support of a failing mindset that would only betray the Wasteland. The Institute, though? They had far more potential, and the more Sole was sent to spend time on the inside, the more they started to believe the Railroad was a lost cause.

Soon, they arrived at a point where they could no longer stand with one foot on either side of the fence, indecisive and conflicted. They had to decide who they were going to betray. X6-88 had arrived with his signature stealthy footsteps and announced that Father wanted to see them. Then, he had informed them that they needed to take out the Railroad once and for all. What were they going to do?

The decision was made before they knew it, the moment they looked up in the Third Rail and saw Deacon acting as if he had never seen them before. It was pure spite, evil and unregulated, that drove them over the line. Did they care? Not particularly. They had gone far past caring after the Wasteland had shit all over everything they had fought so hard to protect, had been abandoned by the one person they thought understood them. Maybe they were ready to burn it to the ground just to feel something.

As soon as they left Goodneighbor they returned to the Institute to relay their decision to Father. He understood, as far as he knew, that there would be a conflict of interest considering they were the Institute’s double agent, but they were more than willing to witness what was to come. Somewhere along the line listlessness and apathy had been replaced by rage.

When they consented to be part of the process, everyone launched into action much faster than Sole was expecting. Apparently this had been a plan for a long time, they just needed the intel Sole about to hand them. They didn’t hesitate. It surprised even themself. “There’s a loose end we need to tie up.” They announced.

They were leaned against the table in the middle of the room, reflecting internally on just how stereotypical the situation was. Father was propped up on the other side of the room, receiving concerned glances from the scientists around him; it was obvious he didn’t have much time left. Sole didn’t particularly care. With a sigh, they pushed off the table and turned to look out one of the many windows at the sprawling space of the Institute ground floor below. “The Institute has an agent that’s currently undercover. Reconnaissance work, I think, I wasn’t told. I’m supposed to think he’s dead.”

This brought on curious murmurs that had them rolling their eyes internally. They should’ve known they’d doubt them, it seemed everyone did. They turned with their arms crossed over their chest to face the room. “They’re worse than you’d think at making sure their agents don’t get spotted. But I’d know his face anywhere.” If only that was an exaggeration. If only they could forget. “Without him gone, the Railroad’s going to keep recruiting.”

“I trust you can take care of it?” Father spoke up croakily from where he was reclined.

Sole responded with an immediate, firm nod. Maybe it was what they had been aiming for in the first place, who knows. Certainly not the scientists, who sat around with judgemental, conflicted looks, as if they had any say at the end of the day. Sole had to admire Father’s commitment to the facade that they were involved. They let out a soft sigh to show their frustration. “So are we moving forward?” They asked.

“You’re awfully eager. Aren’t they supposed to be your friends? You’ve known them for years, that’s why you know so much, right?” One spoke up.

Sole ground their teeth together and glanced away for a moment to compose themself. “That’s true. But we’re not friends. They lost my respect a long time ago. Besides, my loyalty lies with the Institute. It doesn’t matter what they were to me.” They lifted their head higher.

The scientist sat back with a shrug, seemingly satisfied with this answer, at least for now. They couldn’t help but feel a bit smug that they had backed down that quickly. Regardless, it was time to get moving. The meeting ended rather abruptly after that and they stopped by to speak to Father before descending one of the many staircases and their boots met the Institute ground floor. The sooner they got this done, the sooner things would return to normal within the Institute. They would forget about the Railroad and all the trouble they had stirred up for them within the white walls.

Sole stopped in their room to use a kit, kindly provided by the Institute, to smear dirt on their face and adjust their clothing in a mirror. A clean mirror, at that. Of course, they had to look the part of someone busy traveling, but God was it luxurious to play the part after spending all their time at the Institute when they were away from the Railroad. Soon, there would be no part to be played, and the Institute would be their home full time.

After making sure they appeared to have been traveling, they made their way back to the top floor and stepped into the teleporter, ready to get this over with. No, they wouldn’t fully enjoy getting rid of the Railroad, but it would certainly feel therapeutic. There might be something fucked up about that, but it was the apocalypse. They had a feeling there would be no therapist to judge them at the end of the day.

Sole landed somewhere just outside Goodneighbor and took a moment to collect themself. The teleporter always made them seasick. After tugging at the bottom of their shirt and shifting the weight of their pack on their shoulders, they began to focus on their breathing. For a few minutes they focused on getting it to a believably borderline-hyperventilating rate, then bounced on their heels to add to the exhausted look. With this, they rushed into the gates.

Deacon was leaned against the wall that separated Daisy’s shop and KL-E-0’s, looking every part of the drifter that he was pretending to be. Sole waited until they had caught his attention before pretending to compose themself. They walked over slowly, their head somewhat ducked. God, was it hard to be faking fear to fake hiding it. It took a mere second where they bumped into Deacon and a piece of paper wound up in his hands. An exclamation point with six lines extending outwards from it. The Railroad sign for them being in danger.

It was far too easy to make their way to the back alleys of Goodneighbor, conscious of the fact that Deacon was casually trailing behind them, covering the way he followed by pausing every now and then to observe something. They were pressed into an outcropping by the time he made his way around the corner. Even Deacon, the composed super-spy, jumped when they stepped out of the shadows. “What’s going on?” He asked lowly, avoiding their stare.

Sole rolled their shoulders and let out a quiet breath. “Do you remember what you told me in the beginning?” They asked quietly, their eyes filled with tears that couldn’t be more false, throwing a shaky smile in for dramatic effect. It seemed to work with the way Deacon grew more concerned.

“What do you mean?” He asked, stepping closer, reaching out to begin examining them for injuries. “What’s going on?”

Sole let their breath shake when he got closer and looked down at the ground, taking a step to get into his space. It was personal. He placed his hands on their shoulders and they nearly rolled their eyes at the fact that he was dropping his guard. Exposing his weak points. They leaned forward as they shifted to reach for the silence pistol that was holstered beneath their jacket. “Trust no one.” They whispered in his ear before pressing the barrel against his stomach.

They let a beat pass just to watch the way his face dropped and his eyes widened before pulling the trigger. The recoil encouraged them to take a step backwards, but they gave him the courtesy of catching him under his arms and lowering him to the ground slowly. The words Deacon had been preparing were caught in his throat, suppressed by the pain, and they took the moment to fire two more shots; one for each of his legs. He wasn’t making it out of the alley. No one used it anymore, and it wasn’t uncommon to find dead drifters a week later.

Truth be told, they were tempted to stick around and watch him process what was happening. Already, there was a look of acceptance on his face, like he’d figured something like this would happen, but they knew better. Deacon was smart, but if he were smarter, he would’ve never left. The fury in his eyes as he looked up at him, away from the blood spilling from his wounds, nearly made them shiver. Instead, they let out a quiet laugh and shook their head. “You should take your own advice.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fo4f #Fallout 4 February #Deacon #Angst #Character Death #Oneshot #Imagine #Fanfiction #Fanfic #FF

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

Text

talk tonight x noel gallagher

i’m back with another noel fic ;) i know the meaning behind the song is completely different to how this story is presenting it, but i’m changing it up so it can fit the storyline. i don’t know why i always write so much for noel BUT he deserves it <3

Paring: 90s noel gallagher x reader

Warnings: its just really fucking soft okay

Word count: 3.809

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Stop writing so many mopey songs!” Liam yelled, tossing the now wrinkled piece of paper at his brother, containing heartfelt lyrics to another one of Noel’s melancholic masterpieces. “We’re not a sad band, for fucks sakes!”

Sighing, Noel looked away from his sibling’s frustrated stares. Taking a hold of the paper, he unfolded it slowly, attempting to stretch out its unfortunate bruises: formed when gripped firmly in Liam’s palm as he skim read it atrociously. His eyes trailed from the top, all the way to the bottom of the page, examining the lyrics that messily peppered the sheet. He had spent hours, days, relentlessly trying to get the words right; it seemingly sounded better in his head rather than on the paper, his heartfelt remorse towards the amounts of paper he used - and eventually binned - ghosting his mind as he stared at the title of the song. Talk Tonight.

Usually, he would be skilfully speedy with writing such anthems, yet, with this song, he felt it contained more of him than anything else did - his bare heart, unexpectedly torn out of its ligaments, dusted on a random chopping board, framed for the entire world to see. The public would have no idea who it was about and why he had written it, but knowing the obsessive fans that queued for hours just to buy a 7” single, crammed gigantic concert halls, chanted back memorable lyrics, which were either written hurriedly, wanting to complete the song or were age old melodies, well thought out in his childhood bedroom - accompanied by Liam’s occasional interrupting with his rowdy complaints about their mother not allowing him to go out and mess around with his friends at the time. His fans may either be oblivious as to the meanings of the song, or they may be able to depict it as adroitly as a neurosurgeon figuring out the exact muscle which broke apart the spine. You never knew.

Noel stayed silent, not replying to Liam, leaving the standing sibling puzzled by his distanced expression. Expectedly, he assumed Noel would answer him, perhaps with a scolding, reminding him that he doesn’t write the songs, and that Noel’s the mastermind of it all, to which Liam would throw a hissy fit, storming out of the room in anger towards his repetitive comeback. Nevertheless, all that sounded in the room was a light hiss of wind escaping from the outdoors, seemingly into the small crack of the slightly opened window; you couldn’t tell whether it was shut or open. The fresh seeping air felt like it was intruder, like a fox deciding it was their place to rummage through your neighbours’ bins for a midnight snack, and after not managing to find anything, leaving all the bin bags ripped open, the trash every place imaginable in the adjacent front yard. “Noel?” Liam spoke, walking up to where his brother was sat, eventually inviting himself to sit next to him.

Liam’s words snapped Noel out of his ponder over what seemed to be anything imaginable. Blinking a couple times, he rubbed his right eye irritatingly, finally responding to his awaiting brother. “What?” he asked, folding up the paper once again, hiding it from Liam, as if he hadn’t already seen it previously. There was an element of secrecy in this song, something he found himself afraid to admit, even to the closest person to him.

Taking note of this, Liam slowly gained an idea of the reasoning behind his aloof body language. “Who’s it about?” he questioned, snatching the piece of paper out of his sibling’s grip, once again. As he opened the fold, he noticed Noel’s tense body again from the abrupt clutch of his work. He re-read the roughly written lyrics - some endings of the words resulted in being smudged due to the pen his brother was using - this time seeing the lines in a completely different light. Noel was calling out for someone, a hint of plead, offhand desperation, a simple crave for attention, all effortlessly foreshadowed in his words. This wasn’t an ordinary song; this was about someone, someone close to him.

“Who’s it about?” he repeated, his tone on the stretch between rough and soft, like a baby’s screeching, features soft yet voice ever so repulsive. Noel’s dry, lifeless responses began to agitate him, though he tried to hide it, his eyes trailing off to study the older brother’s distinctive features in a midst of the silence, always taking interest into his sibling’s prescence. He took note of his messily arranged mop hair-do, decorated lightly with significant stands sticking out freely; it was obvious that his attention being undivided towards his meaningful lyrics made him feel that he had no need to do himself for anyone else, along with the curved bridge of his nose, morphed in a delicate overlay of skin, a unique microcosm to who he really was. Both Gallagher brothers were pictured in the magazines as loud, condescending, boisterous teenagers from a poor, working class background, each one oblivious to the understanding of how to control (and handle) the spotlight - yet always wanted it to be on them. However, the way the world pictured Noel wasn’t fully correct: yes, there were times he was off of his head, drugged up in all sorts of class A drugs he seemingly was able to purchase from the insane sales their debut album, Definitely Maybe, had scored. Regardless, the world saw Noel as the twin of Liam: the same, when without a doubt both carried such idiosyncratic differences.

Once again, Noel kept quiet, engrossed between his many thoughts and ideations, not knowing whether to answer Liam or keep his silence. Noel felt the strong stare of his sibling being emitted onto his flesh, drawing himself two options: telling Liam and having him shut up about it, although he knew he wouldn’t, or keep his brother asking the same questions, his curiosity - and aggravation - increasing every millisecond as his quietness progressed on. “Is it someone I know?” the sibling asked, causing Noel to swivel his head instantly - locking eyes with him in surprise. Yes, Liam, it is.

Liam was quick to catch Noel's startled expression, immediately thinking of all the girls they had been friends with, or had been working with them within the past year. They didn’t have many girl-friends; when you’re front page on practically every entertainment article about how loud and tatty you usually were tended to result in hatred by the mass population of women. Regardless, there were enough girls to be friendly with; when you’re drunk in a pub at three in the morning searching for a passionate night with someone, it’s less likely you’re going to keep your eye out to not sleep with someone as attractive as the Gallaghers. “Is it Matilda?”

“No,”

“Evelyn?”

“No,”

“Nicole?”

“No! It’s Y/N!” Noel yelled, agitated by his brother's bombarded neediness to know.

“So not Nicole?”

“No,” he repeated, his mind beginning to despise the word after the countless amounts of it rushing off his tongue in the mass of a few seconds.

“Good, because I like Nicole,” Liam mumbled, gazing straight at the window, intently listening to the quiet sound of cars driving by on the road beside them.

Shocked, the older brother bunched his eyebrows together and squinted his eyes. “You have Patsy, Liam,”

“Yeah, but,” the younger brother began, before being caught in realisation. “Wait, Y/N?”

Sighing, Noel came to a conclusion that there was no way of escaping the situation. “Yes, her,” he replied, taking the song out of Liam’s palms. He had stared blankly at the sheet hundreds of times, lost in a dream, yet each time he felt as if he was reading it for the first. Every time his eyes laid upon the first few lines, his heart felt as if it was a balloon being punctured with a toothpick on accident, cascading out of a little child’s hand in the middle of the sidewalk, flying onto the road making it unable to get a hold of it again. The kid cries, but the mother tells him to get over it, you’ll get another soon, she says. Noel rarely spoke to Y/N, and when he did, he either stuttered or was too drunk to finish a sentence. She made his heart flutter, in the most endearing ways, receiving a small smile from the girl brightened his day to the fullest. Sometimes he wondered if he was in love with her, love at first sight when they first locked eyes in the recording studio, the band’s manager introducing them to the band as the recording assistant. She was the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes upon.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam asked, wrapping an arm around Noel. “Or even, why haven’t you gone out with the girl yet? She’s single ain’t she?”

Noel nodded his head, staring down at his fingers as they cradled the sheet cautiously, hoping not to rip it in the slightest. “I was thinking of showing the song to her, since I have no fuckin’ clue how I’m supposed to tell her how I feel,” he added, pulling his hand up to chew on his nails - out of nervousness of the idea of presenting such a heart-wrenching song to her.

“Tell her tomorrow, show her the song after recording,” Liam suggested, slipping his top lip into his mouth, wondering what was battling his brother’s thoughts. He had never seen his brother so naive to how to talk to a girl, tell her he wants to go out for a drink with her, enjoy each other’s company as friends, not co-workers, for once. It was like the entire topic was something so new to the sibling - not even his brother could aid him with directions over what to do, exactly presenting a child the quadratic form, they would never be able to understand it.

A few long, impatient seconds whistled by in the room - the ambience tense yet soft, bubbled to the brim with thought. Liam didn’t want to say anything else, knowing his brother wouldn’t answer; he wanted to wait for a well thought out response, one that would make sense - unlike receiving flat-out no’s, which brought both boys off guard over the repetitiveness. “You think it's good enough?” Noel questioned, locking eyes with the opposing brother once again. Funnily enough, he knew the exact answer he was going to receive; he could hear it in the room, bouncing off of the walls, the exact words rolling off of Liam’s tongue. He knew him so well, he didn’t need a conformation of words as they fell off of his lips.

“Go for it,”

~~~

After another strenuous day of recording, bickering, and a sporadic storming out by the lead singer, they somehow managed to record two songs: Acquiesce and Headshrinker, both songs to be included in their first single release, Some Might Say, for their upcoming album. There was high anticipation for this forthcoming LP - tabloids had the topic stained on their lips, the matter embossed in their heads, it being the only thing they were able to talk about with a such excitement, almost exactly like the buzz the band received with their first album, due to it becoming the fastest selling debut LP in the UK charts. Everyone was shocked by their sudden appearance, and along with their rugged up, tough looks, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. Unsurprisingly, the air in the room was filled with up to the brim in fog - all from the hundreds of joints that were scruffily wrapped up and burnt, all up to its butt to be chucked away in the dustbins. There were ashtrays decorated all around the room; some practically overflowing in dust, others merely sprinkled in ash it could almost present as unused and clean. Time felt distant; with the clock itching to strike hour 5, the atmosphere was left fussy, all five boys drained entirely from the ridiculous amounts of re-recordings they had to do, along with Guigsy being especially annoyed by a decision their label had made for an upcoming gig they seemingly had to start planning for. Bollocks, he shouts, slouching down in his seat, as Bonehead scoffs at his continuous childlike behaviour.

“Right well, I’m out,” Liam yells, his eyes immediately drifting onto Noel. Giving his sibling a nod, he grabs hold of his spliff again, his fingers softly entwining with the roughened fabric, inhaling sharply before exhaling out its poignant contents in front of Y/N’s face. “Bye, Y/N,” he adds, turning his head away and swaying out the door - trying to present a cool-like physique. The rest of the boys follow, except Noel. She laughs at him, whispering a short bye before carrying on with her previous activities. The boys were planning on going to the nearest bar to hang out, we deserve it after all our hard work and dedication to this shitting album, Liam would always repeat. Not like their lives aren’t situated with cigarettes, bars and alcohol practically everyday. I want to find a bird to sleep with. You have Patsy! Oh, yeah.

After everyone had left, it was only Noel and Y/N left in the space. Noel was sat in the recording room, playing around with the strings on one of his many Gibson’s, his fingers lightly tapping on the metal cords, attempting to settle another melody for another upcoming song he had thought about. He was always like this. He was the definition of the I’ll-see-you-guys-there type; he constantly had something to do beforehand. He carried such a creative mind, you never wanted to interrupt him when he was left in his element, you knew he was going to create something amazing - he always did. Y/N currently had her headphones on, her head slowly bopping to the sounds of the music she was playing as her eyes were focused on the controls. Every few seconds she would mess around with the controls, either boosting the bass or lowering the sound of the guitars, continuously finding something fun to do with the tunes. As the song she was listening to had come to a close, she clapped lightly to herself, accompanied with a wide grin plastering on her face. Listening to music was her favourite thing in the world to do; it repeatedly gained her such emotional satisfaction you’d envy it from afar.

His eyes drifted onto stare at Y/N. Every time he laid her eyes on her, he was perpetually enthralled. Enthralled by her presence, enthralled by how much dedication she can hold to one small, simple thing - she never seemed to get tired by anything, even by his younger brother’s whiney behaviour. She was most certainly the best one to speak to him whenever he was pissed, agitated or refusing to do as everyone was telling him to: whether it be because of an argument he had in the midst of recording about how the lyrics sounded, resulting in him storming out, or about a petty comment that was slipped out of their managers’ lips about how hard they are to work with, she consistently knew what to do. Her voice always held this calming tone, almost like she could never shout, get mad, even if she tried to. What made Noel inspired for his songs wasn’t the same, rapid rush of exhilaration that he’d gain as he was nearing finishing the song; it was the Oasis in her eyes that motivated him. She saw them as this power, this light that no one was able to obtain, Noel being the only one able to unlock the true colours behind it. The mastermind. Whatever she said, whatever followed off her tongue professedly felt like it came straight out of a book - no matter what conversation was occurring. Her words would repeat in his head until they became engraved and cherished, saved for another moment to remember. It would never leave his mind. He was constantly captivated by her, in the most desiring ways.

“What are you doing?” Noel asked, attempting to hold a conversation. His fingers were still messing around with the cords, this time his other arm resting on his lap instead of situated on the neck of the guitar. He watched her head lift up, switching her gaze from the controls to instantly lock eyes with Noel, a bright smile now glued onto her face.

“Just having a bit of a play with the controls,” she grinned. “And you, mister Noel?”

Laughing lightly at the tiny nickname he had received from her, his heart warmed by her blissful aura of everything he had wanted to see in a girl. She always carried optimism wherever she went, consistently held her head up high. “Figuring out something for a song,” he mumbled to her, to which she nodded her head slowly in reply, her eyes now staring at the guitar placed on his lap. Her eyes kept switching from to the nape of the instrument straight to its body, practically analysing everything that was on it. This carried on for a few seconds, the air mute until Noel decided to speak up with something he was anxious about bringing up. “I wanted to show you something,”

Building up enough courage, Noel placed his electric guitar on the stand next him, exiting the crammed recording room to quickly enter the lounging space. Y/N’s eyes never left his body; her curiosity stretched out in the masses towards the lanky boy’s withdrawn approach, striking her attention right away. The entire time he avoided locking eyes with her, trotting into the space quickly as he went to grab a random acoustic thrown on one of the couches in the room, knowing his nerves would reach a breaking point soon enough, for even thinking of creating contact with her enticing, sunlit orbs, filled with an itch of interest and consistent undivided attention, would cause him to shrivel back into the young Mancunian boy he once was, before stuttering slightly and rushing out of the room - danced in embarrassment. He had never come across a girl who was able to strike him in such a way his nervous system was at a risk of collapsing, the only songs he was able to write about people tended to either be his brother, or situations with friends - for it was never a girl, he was never like that.

Snatching the previous seat of the acoustic that was cradled in his arms, Noel pulled the instrument closely to his body - the wooden material now in contact with his clothed chest. Inhaling the air as if it were a spliff coiled with weed, he took deep breaths, counting down from the number five before speaking up again. “This one’s called Talk Tonight,” he echoed, before his fingers - as if magically casted a spell - automatically shifted places on the fretboard, beginning to strum the solemn notes, beautified with adoration. At this point, Y/N’s chair was completely swivelled, her gaze fixated exactly on Noel, her heart agape as she marvelled at the boy merely inches in front of her. The heavy strums were the only thing sounding in the room, settling on a peaceful, luscious tone, containing powers to set you in a stupor of harmony, reconciliation, sending you straight to sleep in just a few seconds. It had power to heal you, like an antidote adorning your skin, the pain at first making your face scrunch up in distress, then relaxing after a short while, pleasure washing over your veins to realise you were finally healed.

Once Noel began singing, he became a different person. His nerves were long gone - escaped from his mind, for all tension was now released from his body as his fingers swept across the strings freely. Without even looking at Noel, it was clear that the piece he was performing meant a lot to him, his vocal chords perfecting the notes in hilarity, infatuated by the idea that he was truly presenting it, in real life, to the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about for days on end. He was singing it like he had nothing left to lose, for he was unmasking a side to him he never dared to even think of letting escape; it all his thoughts, his feelings, pouring out in a short 3-minute song, pacified with emotion - it was impossible not to feel an attachment to the music. As he was nearing the last couple lines of the song, he lifted his stare from his instrument, looking to see if Y/N was watching him, and to his surprise, he was instantly met with her gaping at him. Their eyes were glued to one another’s, almost like they were afraid to blink, or do something to prevent not sharing the moment with each other - even if that meant having your eyes burn out of dehydration.

“I wanna talk tonight, Until the morning light, ‘Bout how you saved my life, I wanna talk tonight.”

After the song ended, there was immediate clapping from Y/N. It was the same, quiet clapping she bestowed earlier when she had finished listening to one of their demos by the control centre, but this time for Noel, and only him. “Was that for me?” she asked, her grin blaring out in her words. She knew it was, all from the beginning with his awkward walking to grab the guitar, yet she still asked anyways. Noel didn’t answer, looking away to stare at his free hand stroking the couch nimbly. He didn’t know what to say, slightly embarrassed yet glad he finally accomplished what he was trying to muster out for months. At first it was a quickened heartbeat as she walked past him, him being all flushed out with a simple doing, to not even knowing what to say when she asked him a question about his guitar riff he performed, to which he’d turn to look at Bonehead, asking him to reply a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Because if that’s the case, I feel the same way,” she added, knowing Noel’s head would turn almost immediately. And it did. He was met with her lips, brushing against his teasingly, their noses colliding together, on the verge of morphing into each other. He felt that he had finally found the one person who understood him best among anyone he knew; he felt as if she knew him more than he knew himself, without even communicating. It was a feeling so scarce and infrequent, he finally understood life for what it really was, for he would prefer dying in that exact moment than pulling away, having to endure the ache of realisation: realisation he would never have a moment so perfect ever again.

#noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #liam gallagher #oasis #oasis band #britpop #90s #nineties #imagines #band imagines #fluff #smut #angst #my writing

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flightlessangelwings · 4 years

Text

Inglenook

Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Reader

For @avengerscompound writing challenge

Rating: Mature (smut, 18+ only)

It was a routine that started by accident. You were placed with Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes for a mission that took you into the Swiss mountains. It was your first big mission out in the field after years of proving yourself at SHIELD as a technician and analyst, so you were both excited and nervous. Luckily, you had the best teammates you could ask for; you had known Clint for a long time and became close with him, and you hit it off immediately with Bucky.

The mission itself was uneventful: the three of you were able to get in and out with the information you were after without a hitch. And that brought you to a cozy cabin in the mountains, courtesy of Stark loaning some of his vacation homes to use as safe houses. It was a beautiful house, and a warm welcome in the middle of the freezing snow. But what drew all three of you was the fireplace.

It was a rustic centerpiece to the main living room area, complete with a brick archway with grey stone accents. The fireplace itself was large enough to heat the whole space, and directly in front of the nook was a large fluffy area rug with a small two-person couch on either side. It was the perfect homey space to lay and roast marshmallows or read or just snuggle up with a blanket and nap.

“I could get used to this,” you commented with a chuckle as the three of you set your gear down.

Bucky and Clint shared a glance that you missed as you took in the beautify of the space.

“How about something to eat?” Clint spoke up from behind you, “Let’s hope the kitchen is stocked up.”

You turned back to face the boys in agreement. The rest of the evening felt like a normal gathering for you all, instead of agents on deadly missions. You all ate in front of the roaring fire and talked and laughed together. Before the three of you realized, it was almost three in the morning. But, instead of going up to the bedrooms, you all decided to stay in front of the fire together where it was warm. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep on one of the couches while wrapped up in a blanket.

The boys, however, stayed up for a bit longer. Once you were fully asleep, Bucky moved over so that he sat right next to Clint on the floor and cupped his face with his hands.

“Alone at least,” he said in a low voice before he kissed Clint passionately, who eagerly kissed back with the same energy. Hands roamed over each other as they pushed their bodies together as much as they could.

When they finally broke away for air, Clint spoke, “I like the girl and all,” he motioned to your sleeping figure, “But it’s been so hard keeping my hands off you.”

Bucky and Clint had been paired for missions many times over the years, and with time the two men grew very close. After one particular mission where Clint got hurt, Bucky came face to face with his feelings. To his surprise, Clint confessed that he felt the same way. And that was where they shared their first kiss: in a dingy warehouse in the middle of nowhere with Clint all bandaged up. Bucky couldn’t think of a scenario more appropriate to the two of them.

They decided to keep their relationship a secret, however, so no one knew that they were together. Until now.

You were a light sleeper, and you didn’t stay asleep on that couch for very long. And when you woke up to turn over, you were met with a sight you did not expect. Clint and Bucky didn’t hear you wake up, and you watched them embrace each other for a moment. They sat interlocked in each other’s arms as they watched the fire in a peaceful silence. You weighed your options before you decided to turn over quietly with a soft smile on your face, and somehow the room felt warmer.

Two months later, you and the boys were back at that cabin. This time, however, the atmosphere was completely different from before. The mission did not go as smoothly as you had hoped, and the three of you had to evacuate before you could get the information you were after.

Clint led the way, and you and Bucky threw your bags down in the foyer. None of you spoke, and the tension was palpable in the room. You lingered in the doorway with your arms crossed as you replayed that happened over and over again. You tried to pinpoint exactly where it all went wrong, but no matter how you think it over, the result was still the same.

“Fuck,” Bucky’s voice rang out as he slammed his fist onto the table in the middle of the room. His feelings were echoed in both you and Clint as the three of you handled your anger inside your own heads.

You let out a deep sigh, “I’m going upstairs. Take a shower,” you finally said before you disappeared and left the two men alone.

Bucky moved over to Clint and cradled his head in his hands. The archer breathed deeply before his eyes met Bucky’s. They breathed together in silence for a few minutes, a routine they started a while ago after a rough mission. Once they both calmed down, Clint put his hands on top of Bucky’s, “Shall we?”

The Winter Soldier nodded before they made their way upstairs hand-in-hand.

However, nobody stayed in the bedroom for long. As the hours passed, the cabin got colder. You were the first to wake, and you dragged yourself down to sit at the fireplace. WIth a fluffy blanket wrapped around you and a fire that now roared, you were able to get cozy enough to attempt to sleep again. But, the place wasn't quiet for long, and your two companions soon followed you to the cozy nook. They thought you had fallen asleep, so they felt comfortable enough to lay in each other’s arms.

They almost jumped out of their skin when you sat up. “It..It’s not what it looks like,” Clint stammered, and both of them were red with embarrassment.

You smiled softly at them, “It’s ok, guys,” you shifted your position, “It’s ok. I already know.”

Confusion laced both their faces, “What?” Bucky asked.

It was your turn to feel embarrassed, “I saw you last time we were here,” you looked down and fiddled with your hands, “I’m sorry, maybe I should have said something. I just didn’t think it was a big deal or anything.”

Clint and Bucky glance at each other, “Did…” Clint cleared his throat, “Did you tell anyone?”

“No,” you answered immediately, “It’s not my place to say anything. We all keep secrets, I get it. I just want you guys to know that it’s ok,” your voice was reassuring, and you could see them both relax.

“We just wanted to keep it under wraps,” Bucky spoke, “At least for now,” his eyes were soft as he looked at you. You wondered if there was something behind his eyes or if you just imagined it. Maybe it was wishful thinking on your part; you did have a crush on both Clint and Bucky in the past, and maybe those feelings never fully went away.

“I understand,” you held your hands out to your partners, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Clint and Bucky took your hands as the warmth of the fire spread over the room and the three of you were able to sleep soundly that night.

A few weeks went by before you, Clint, and Bucky were sent out on another mission in an area close to that cabin safehouse. However, like the last time you were here, this mission didn’t go so well. The door to the cabin burst open, and Bucky helped you inside, your arm was slung over his shoulder to keep yourself upright. Clint was right behind you and he immediately rushed to get the med kit.

“I got you. I got you,” Bucky whispered in your ear as he took you over to the couch by the hearth.

Your breathing was heavy, and you clutched at the bullet wound in your side. You groaned in pain as you fought back tears. Bucky could feel your body get warmer, and he knew they had to fight off infection before it got too bad.

“Clint!” he called out to his boyfriend, who immediately appeared with a med kit.

The blonde’s face was pale as he looked down at your form. It was his fault that you got hit instead of him. If only he paid more attention, then you wouldn’t have jumped in front of him. Clint should be more used to injury and blood by now, but it was different when it was someone he cared about. You and Clint had been friends for many years, and he considered you to be one of his best friends. His hands shook as he watched Bucky clean up your wound.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he wrung his hands, “I’m sorry,” he repeated your name. Clint was so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear Bucky call his name.

“Clint!”

The archer jumped as he brought himself back to the present, “Yes?”

“I need your help,” Bucky’s voice was tough, but Clint knew it was to cover how scared he was, “Hold her still so I can finish this.”

“Got it,” he did as he was told and held your shoulders down while Bucky finished stitching you up.

You were barely conscious, and their voices felt so far away from you. The only thing you could say was, “I’m sorry,” in a hushed voice before you passed out on the couch. Clint checked to make sure you were still breathing while Bucky set up a fire to keep you all warm.

Minutes felt like hours as Clint and Bucky stayed awake to watch over you. It must have been past midnight when your breathing finally evened out and your fever broke. Clint buried his face in his hands as he sighed in relief. Bucky draped his arm over him and pulled him close.

The archer let himself fall into his boyfriend’s arms as adrenaline felt their bodies. The only sounds in the room were the cackle of the fire and your deep breaths. Clint’s hand traced patterns on Bucky’s metal arm.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice broke through the silence, “It’s not your fault.”

Cint scoffed, “Yes it was. If I just paid more attention…”

“It's not your fault,” he repeated, “It’s not anyone’s fault. We do what we think is right, and hope for the best,” Bucky stroked Clint’s hair, “She’s gonna be ok.”

“That sounds familiar,” a faint smile came across the blonde’s face, “I do remember telling you something similar before.”

Bucky laughed, “Well, sometimes you can be wise, Clint.”

Your voice joined the conversation, “Emphasis on sometimes.”

They both jumped and scrambled to your side, their hands were immediately on you to check your wounds as you sat up slowly. The two voices overlapped as Bucky and Clint asked if you were ok.

“I’m fine, thanks to you guys,” you gave them a weak, but reassuring smile as you leaned into their embraces.

Silence filled the room again as you became aware of how much you touched the two men. You found yourself in the middle of their strong bodies, their arms wrapped around you protectively. As comforting as it was, your heart pounded in your chest, and you pulled yourself up to look between Clint and Bucky. You considered both of them good, close friends, but you wondered if there was something more there.

Sparks seemed to fly between the three of you. Bucky and Clint both leaned in close to your face, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. As if they could read each other’s minds, they both placed gentile kisses on your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered shut as you cupped their faces. The two men held hands in your lap as they continued to kiss all over your face and neck.

“Wait,” you stopped them as you snapped back from your haze.

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked.

“Are you guys sure about this?” you gave them each a questioning look.

“We’re sure if you are,” Bucky said, and caught Clint’s eye for confirmation.

Clint nodded, “We talked about this after last time,” he admitted, “We just didn't know how to bring it up.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “And me getting injured is a good time?”

Bucky and Clint both stuttered as they tried to answer you.

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, “I just don’t want to get between you.”

“Well, you kinda already are,” Clint gestured to your bodies, and how their arms were still around you.

You slapped him playfully as all three of you burst out in laughter. The boys tilted their heads towards you as the laughter quieted down and you felt two pairs of lips on yours. It was a messy kiss as all three of you wanted to kiss each other at the same time, and you could feel the passion from them. Bucky and Clint wrapped their arms around you and gently lowered you down from the couch onto the large blanket in front of the warm fire.

Clint turned you so that you faced away from him and his fingers ghosted over your back. You shivered at his touch as you leaned into Bucky’s embrace and crashed our lips to his. Clint’s hands reached under your shirt and he slowly, carefully pulled it up to expose your midsection. He made sure to be mindful of the wound on your side. You broke away from Bucky to let the archer take your shirt off your body.

You then turned to face your friend and immediately connected your lips to his. Clint deepened the kiss and your tongues played with each other’s. Urgency suddenly filled the room as you, Bucky and Clint made quick work of removing each other’s clothes. You all took a moment to admire each other’s bodies before Clint pulled you close. You noted how hard they both were already, and you could feel your own wetness between your legs in anticipation.

This time, Bucky was the one to run his hands down your back. You shivered as the cool metal from his one arm touched your hot skin. His strong hands nudged you to lean forward, and you let him guide your body down. You kissed down Clint’s torso, which caused him to moan softly as you made your way to his hardened length.

You looked up at Clint with a question in your eye before you took him into your mouth. He looked down at you with lust-filled eyes and gave you a small nod before he took a handful of your hair. The blond cried out in pleasure as you took him fully into your mouth, and Bucky grunted in response as he started to play with your cunt. He started with a few flicks at your clit before he pushed a finger inside you. Your moan was muffled by Clint’s cock, and the vibration made him buck his hips into your mouth.

Bucky added another finger inside of you to stretch you out as his metal hand held your hips steady. He pumped his fingers in and out of you in the same rhythm as your head bobbed up and down his boyfriend’s hard length. All of your limbs shook as you held yourself up between the two men. Fire roared both in the nook and behind the two men’s eyes as they gazed at each other.

When he decided you were ready, Bucky pulled his fingers out of you and positioned himself at your entrance. He paused for a moment, “Ready?”

A muffled, “Mmmhmm,” came from your throat, since you did not want to let Clint’s dick go yet. Bucky and Clint locked eyes once more as the winter soldier slowly pushed his large cock into you. Your cries filled the room as Clint strocked your back lovingly. When Bucky was fully sheathed inside you, he paused for a moment to let you adjust.

You resumed sucking on Clint’s length and Bucky took that as the cue to move. He started slow and easy at first, but quickly picked up his pace. With one hand still on your hip, the brunette leaned forward and used his other hand to pull Clint towards him and kissed him with fervor.

The room was filled with the sounds of moans and cries from all three of you. You almost felt overwhelmed at the sensations: Bucky fucked you harder and faster and Clint fucked your face so passionately. The two men still kissed feverishly as their hips started to lose control.

Clint broke away from the kiss first to cry out, and you knew his orgasm was close. He pressed his forehead to Bucky’s as he came while he screamed out both of your names. You happily swallowed his seed as Bucky continued to pound into you. Clint carefully pulled out of your mouth and lifted you up by your shoulders so he could hold onto you.

That change of angle was all you needed for your own climax. You held onto the blonde’s strong arms as you rode out your orgasm on Bucky’s dick. And, as if on cue, your orgasm triggered Bucky’s as he came inside you right after you did.

Completely worn out, you, Clint and Bucky all collapsed onto the fluffy blanket. Heavy breaths were the only sound in the room as you lay tangled in each other’s arms to catch your breath.

“That was,” you started between breaths, “Wow,” you chuckled, “Better than I never imagined.”

Clint cocked an eyebrow, “So, you have imagined this?” he teased.

You smacked him playfully, “Shut up.”

“I sure have,” Bucky chimed in, and you and Clint gave him a look. The three of you burst into laughter again as Bucky pulled you both into his arms. “How about for now, we sleep?”

“I won’t fight you on that,” Clint responded as he nuzzled into the makeshift nest you all made. You didn’t protest either, as you already started to drift off to sleep. Not only was that the best sex you ever had, but you had never felt more safe or secure as when you were with Bucky and Clint. You wondered how things would change after this, but for now, you just wanted to enjoy the moment. And it was a perfect moment.

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allywrites360 · 4 years

Text

Grounded.

When I read the prompt ‘Post Canon’ for Sukka Week 2020, my mind went to immediately post finale; so here's a but of Sokka and Suki recovering from the final battle!!

Sokka winced as Suki wrapped the stiff bandages tightly around his leg. He shifted his toes slightly, frowning at the realization he couldn't feel the action. He tried to roll his ankle next, hoping the results would be slightly different. A rush of pain shot up his leg through the injury, causing Sokka to bite down roughly on his lip, fingers digging into the carpet he sat on.

Suki flicked her gaze up to his, worried expression clear on her face. She silently pinned down the end of the bandages, drawing her hands back towards herself as she sat back on her legs.

“Guess waterbending doesn't do much for broken bones, huh?” His voice didn’t match the lighthearted comment. He slowly released the breath trapped in his chest, relaxing gesture seemingly only making him more tense. The silence blanketed back over them.

It had only been a few hours since they defeated the firelord. Or Ozai. Sokka supposed he would have to get used to using the former title for Zuko soon enough. Their clothes were still lined with the lingering smell of smoke from the battle, cuts and bruises still fresh. If Sokka was being honest, the exhaustion dragging down his muscles hurt almost as much as his freshly set leg.

He was just grateful no one was seriously injured. Even Zuko would recover soon enough, aided by Katara’s bending. And he was glad to have taken the brunt of that fall from the airship if it meant saving his family.

His family. They were all here. They were safe. And together. His racing heart didn't seem to fully realize that though.

It still seemed strange to be in the Fire Nation Royal Palace without planning an attack. There was a part of his mind still needing to remind him that they weren't in any danger, that this was Zuko’s home now, and no one would attack them as they sat surrounded by a sea of red.

The pair were sitting on the floor of Sokka’s room, tending to the injuries left from Sozin’s Comet. Suki had been given a room down the hall. He didn't think either of them wanted to be alone right now though.

With that thought, he reached out for Suki’s hand, bringing their intertwined fingers up to rest against his cheek. He moved his blue gaze up to hers. “We’re okay,” he breathed. Tears came to his eyes at the simple statement. He couldn't find it in him to care.

“Yeah.” Suki’s voice cracked, signalling she was fighting back tears the same as he was. She moved forward, carefully avoiding his leg, and rested her forehead against his, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. “It’s really done.”

Sokka finally broke down, allowing the hot tears that had been lingering to pour down his cheeks at her words. The fight was over. They won. It was gonna be okay. He was relieved and terrified at the same time. Right now all he wanted was to hold Suki close, never letting go. “Yeah,” he said, echoing her previous statement softly.

They sat there for a few moments, heartbeats slowing in the comforting presence of the other. They were together; Sokka kept repeating the truth to himself as his tears ran themselves dry. Taking a few long breaths, he slowly pulled back, keeping his fingers locked tightly in hers.

“I love you,” he whispered. It was the first time he had spoken it out loud, though he didn't doubt that she had known for a long time.

And for the first time since the fight, Suki smiled. It was small, but it was beautiful. Sokka’s heart swelled at the sight of it, causing his eyes to water all over again. This time he used his free hand to wipe the tears away.

She leaned forward, catching his lips into a slow, soft kiss. That was okay. Now they had time. No impending invasion, no powerful comet. Just them, existing in tandem with one another. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as he leaned into the kiss, ignoring the way his leg angrily protested at the movement.

When they finally parted, Sokka didn't want to open his eyes; he wanted to stay in this moment forever. They were finally floating together. Not falling. Not in danger. He breathed for a moment, eyes heavy as he used his arms to support himself as he leaned backwards. When he finally opened them, he saw tears silently tracing from her pale violet eyes.

He frowned. There was nothing he could say right now to make her feel better. So he didn't say anything. A small wave of guilt washed over him at the way she clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her. He felt the way her chest shook with her shallow breaths as she fiercely returned the hug. Sokka ran his hand softly against the back of her head.

“We’re together,” she said, finally, resting in the embrace.

“Forever,” Sokka whispered against her shoulder.

There were too many implications behind that simple word. Promises. Futures. Fears.

Three heartbeats passed in silence as they each held tightly to the other. “Forever,” she repeated, turning to face him. The smile she offered him was still small, still not believing their safety. But it was there.

“Hey.” Katara leaned against the open frame of the door as she spoke. Her voice was quiet and soft, as if she was scared she’d break the peace of the moment. “Zuko’s finally awake, you guys wanna come see him?”

Suki nodded, wiping the remaining streaks from her reddened cheeks as she helped pull Sokka to his feet. This would be a new beginning. For all of them.

#atla #sukka #sukka week #Sukka Week 2020 #sokka #suki

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rainandhotchocolate · 4 years

Text

Blackout - Part 3

A/N What??? COnsistent posting???? Wild times my friends - hope you enjoy! I know it’s a lot of filler stuff, but I’m kind of enjoying writing the storyline, so I promise Sirius will be in it more next chapter :)

~~~

Lily visited almost every day bringing baskets of sweets and books and other memories to try and see if anything was beginning to come back. The healers had been in and out just as frequently, taking tests and checking her injuries. The purple slashes across her stomach were fading but still hurt to sit up if she curved her stomach at all, the bandages needing replacement every eight hours to make sure they didn’t become infected with the curse that had hit her.

The healers had come into the room on the ninth day she was there and sat down in front of her with a look on their faces that made her immediately uncomfortable. They asked Lily if Y/N had any other family and let her stay when she said no, quite sternly.

“So, we wanted to discuss the results of the tests we’ve done over the past few days and we want to reas-,” Turpin started, but Y/N cut him off.

“Please no pleasantries, just lay it on me.” Y/N could feel her whole-body tensing. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach as the three healers and Lily sat and watched her, as if she was a case study.

“Can do,” Turpin smiled at her, “We can determine the differing spells that you were hit with, maledictione pessima, which has caused the injuries on your stomach. There is evidence of the cruciatus curse having caused muscle spasm and tendon tears along your legs. In terms of your memory function, obviously there has been some difficulty remembering more recent events but you have a grasp on who you are and your family history. From what we can tell, it is likely that you were hit with Obliviate but was hit with a reflection of the spell, and likely a weak casting of the spell from someone who didn’t have their own wand.”

“What does that mean?” Lily asked for Y/N, who was staring at the healers, mouth gaping slightly. She knew this was a possibility, of course, given the amount of confusion there had been about the last few weeks… or was it months? How many memories have disappeared?

“It means that more surface level memories, likely the most recent memories or things of less importance – songs, etc – Y/N will be unable to remember. Anything that has a stronger tie to herself, or memories that are long-lasting seem to be ok.”

“So, what can we do? It’s not a full spell so there must be a way to break it, I’ve read about memory charms being broken before so it’s not impossible-“ Lily had started, watching the healers closely for a reaction but Turpin cut her off before she could get more aggressive.

“A lot of the examples of memory spells being broken are by very dark magic, and do not take into consideration the wellbeing of the patient.” He paused, looking back at Y/N. “You would likely be irreparably injured if that were done.”

“Having said that,” He continued, giving Lily a look as she went to open her mouth again. “There are memory potions we can administer to try to pull up old emotions and memories, but this isn’t a guarantee and isn’t the most pleasant of experiences.”

“Does it cause any lasting damage?” Y/N swallowed hard and tried to moisten her very dry mouth.

“No, these potions don’t cause any damage. But I do need to repeat that they are not pleasant and can be painful or uncomfortable. I won’t make you decide now, you can have a think about it and see where you are at.”

“Yeah, ok.” Y/N nodded at him, trying to smile but it turned into a grimace.

“Bringing in old belongings is still a good idea also,” Turpin turned back to Lily who was still holding a large photography book that had images of them in school. “Did you have any questions?”

“No, I mean I probably will, but no.” Y/N wanted him to leave, wanted everyone to leave, wanted to not be here in this bright white room with white curtains and light blue sheets and people serving her food on a tray and potions in a jug every three hours.

“Ok, we’ll leave you to rest, Lily only o-“

“One more hour I know, I know.”

Turpin gave them both a smile and turned on the spot to direct the other two healers out of the room. Lily had paused momentarily before she stood up and hurried after him. Y/N could hear them talking in hushed voices in the corner of the room, but had to strain to hear each word.

“It will depend on Y/N, it’s really up to her and if she feels comfortable.”

“But he’s her partner, I mean surely that’s a strong enough memory.”

“If she can’t recall this part of their relationship it might be more distressing than calming for her.”

Y/N pretended to look back at the books Lily had given her as Lily walked back over, chewing her lip fervently.

“Everything ok?” Y/N kept her eyes down, not wanting to ask what she was talking about outright. Not that she wasn’t fully aware of what Lily had been asking. Y/N could hear him talking to her before she came in every morning, small hisses and growls of words that was too low for her to hear.

“Yes, all ok – do you feel ok? After hearing all that?”

“Yeah, I mean no. I just,” Y/N could feel herself get frustrated at the struggle her brain was having trying to remember again and had to pause to calm herself down. “I just don’t know how I can just forget something, just like that, like a hole in my life that I won’t get back.”

“Yeah,” Lily sighed, sinking back into her chair.

“So…” Y/N raised her eyebrows at Lily expectantly, “Were you going to tell me that he’s been here every day?”

Lily grimaced awkwardly.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know what you wanted, it’s so weird, you know? I mean of course you know what a stupid question you’re the one dealing with it I – “ She cut herself off with a shake of the head. “He’s wanted to see you but we didn’t know if it would just make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N nodded her head slowly, not sure how to respond. They hadn’t spoken about Sirius yet, though Y/N knew that Lily was itching to talk to her about it but was too scared to ask.

“Did you want to talk about him?” Lily crooks her head to one side, green eyes piercing into Y/N’s, making her squirm a little. She hated when she did that, it made you want to tell her everything. No wonder she wanted to be a healer. Or is a healer? Merli-

“Y/N?”

“Sorry I… yes. I think so? Fucking hell I can’t make a decision to save my life.”

Lily snorted and leaned down to pull her bag out from under the bed. She slid her hand in and took out another photo album that was a deep maroon colour and placed it on the bed. Lily looked back up at Y/N and then at the album.

“Did you want to open it?”

“I mean sure?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her very serious expression, “It’s not going to stun me upon opening is it?”

“No,” Lily grinned in response, “It’s an album of the photos you and Sirius took together, he dropped it off yesterday for me to bring in to you.”

“Ah.”

Lily pulled herself closer to Y/N and opened the book to the first page. There were two large photos of a group of people standing in front of a fireplace in someone’s house. Y/N sat up slightly so she could lean in and look a little closer at the photo. She was able to make out faces of people she went to school with, Frank and Alice leaning into each other and holding hands, Marlene grinning boisterously with her hand running through her wild blonde hair, Fabian and Gideon Prewett making faces at the camera.

“There’s us,” Lily pointed at the other side of the image where Y/N could see Lily’s fiery red hair leaning into James’s, arm around Y/N on the other side of her, grinning just as wide as the rest of them. Behind her was Sirius, Peter, and Remus, in that order, Sirius placing his chin atop of Y/N’s head, a crooked smile pulling up his cheeks, his hands hovering above her shoulders as if unsure if he should lay them down or not.

It was surreal, looking down at herself and not having the faintest memory of when it was or what was happening in the image in front of her. Sirius looked so happy. She looked happy. It felt fake, like someone had forged the image and was trying to implant false memories of her life.

“That was soon after you met, well not met obviously since you knew him at school, but like met again. Properly. I think he asked you out a few days later.” Lily was smiling down at the photo, fingers tracing over some of the faces. She looked up at Y/N, face changing quickly. “Oh shit, Y/N are you ok?”

“I…” Y/N’s voice cracked and she felt a track of water slipping down her cheek and into her mouth. “I…don’t remember.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Lily snapped the book shut and stood up so she could pull her into a hug. Y/N felt her breath hitch as the sobs came hard and fast in her throat and tears began to fall.

“I…don’t know…why I’m crying,” Y/N heaved, gripping tight to Lily’s back, trying to find comfort in the soft green jumper she was wearing.

“It’s overwhelming, I’m sorry maybe you weren’t ready yet.”

“I just…why can’t I remember? None of this feels real, I feel like everyone is lying to me, like it’s a whole big fucking prank and I’m going to wake up tomorrow with Gideon telling me he got me good.” Y/N sniffed, pulling away and trying to take in a deep breath.

“Gideon…?” Lily’s face remained calm, but her tone was off.

“Yes, why? Did he visit when I was asleep?” Y/N felt her heart skip a beat suddenly. At least it was still working.

“No, he, uh, no he hasn’t yet.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause where they both sat back and looked away from one another.

“What is the last thing you remember, of us, like something we did together.” Lily asked.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to think back to the last time she saw Lily without the building dread that it might have been years earlier than the actual last time.

“I remember us getting coffee, at that muggle place near your house in Godric’s Hollow.” Y/N could see Lily, giggly and bright eyed, showing off her hand- “You’d just gotten engaged! I remember you showing off the ring that matched your eyes.”

Y/N beamed at Lily excitedly, feeling immediately dulled as Lily’s returning smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re married, aren’t you.”

“Might be.”

“Fuck.”

“If it makes you feel better, you were there, and made a proper fool of yourself dancing.” Lily looked at her a little wistfully.

“I expect you to bring in the full album of photos tomorrow, I need a re-enactment.”

“Deal.”

“And… you can tell him to come. If you want. Just… I don’t know if seeing me will make him feel better or worse. You know?”

“Yeah, I’ll see how it goes.” Lily squeezed her hand tightly, “I’m just glad you’re going to be ok.”

Alive, and having missed my best friend’s wedding and falling in love with Sirius Black Y/N thought, a little bitterly, but kept smiling for Lily’s sake.

Taglist:

@averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527 siobhanhope delightfuldela nadinissavage fleurmoon treestarrrrrrrr @with1love1anu @findzelda @brighteyedmichelle a-dorky-book-keeper placeforcoolusername damalseer

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius x y/n #maruaders x reader #lily evans #marauders x y/n #sirius black fanfiction

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