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attic-club-sandwich · 11 months

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How they are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 2

Side Characters edition!

Okay you guys wanted more angst, so here you go! lol A part 2 with the side characters was requested, so I wrote for Diavolo, Simeon, Luke (purely platonic), and Solomon. I left Barb out because i'm very unsure of his role as of right now in Nightbringer. I hope you guys enjoy, please let me know what you think! You'll probably need some tissues again so prepare yourself! lol

Read Part 1: Brothers

Part 3: MC Returns

Genre: Angst, Hurt.

Taglist: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @sassykattery @amberrskiies @a-hidden-gem @obey-me-posts @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @flemmingbamse i'm also going to tag @yourboyhack @ihatecorns @cherrybakewelltea and @exrellian too since you liked the first part! MC's return will be next! :3

But if you want to be tagged in my future work please fill out this form!

rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

The brothers were the first to be aware of your disappearance, but the news traveled fast between all of the people who were closest and dearest to you. No one knew where you went, but they knew one thing for sure: they were doing anything possible to bring you back home. After weeks of searching every inch of the Devildom, it was becoming apparent that you were no longer in the same realm. This of course sent a new wave of panic through everyone. Where did you go, MC? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were leaving?

❤️Diavolo❤️

If anyone should feel responsible for your disappearance, it’s The Demon Prince.

He is incredibly perplexed and disturbed by the fact that his human exchange student disappeared right out from under his watchful eye.

Diavolo usually has a very outgoing and joyous attitude, but it’s not the same since you left.

Instead, he becomes numb. Sad. Determined to do everything he can to find you.

Lucifer had come running to him in a state of panic, informing him that they couldn’t find you.

He rarely saw Lucifer act that way, so he knew it had to be serious.

He joined in on the search for you too.

Barbatos tried convincing him to stay at the castle, but he couldn't just sit and do nothing. The peace between the human world and the Devildom is at risk.

After days and weeks of searching with no results, he becomes depressed.

He uses every connection, every resource he has to find you.

But he can’t.

Not even the most powerful being in all the Devildom can locate one human.

To disgrace not only the Devildom, but his Father… It's too much to bear.

I’m such a poor excuse for a demon, how could I lose them so easily?

He sits at his office desk, staring down at the paperwork he’s supposed to be finishing. He's severely behind.

But instead of picking up the pen, his hands are clutching at his auburn hair as tears stream down his cheeks.

Barbatos walks on him in this state several times.

The sight of the dark, heavy bags under the Prince’s eyes causes a pang of sadness in his heart. He longs to comfort him.

But the Prince has become distant from him.

He doesn’t understand why Barbatos doesn’t use his powers to find you in such desperate times.

He’s confused. Angry.

He orders Barbatos away, and rests his head into his folded arms, wishing you were wrapped up in them instead.

Wherever you are, MC, I promise we will find you. We’ll bring you home.

💛Simeon💛

When Simeon learns of your disappearance, he almost doesn’t believe it.

But when he’s forced to face the reality of your absence, he feels it deep within his heart.

His usual calm demeanor starts to crack, but he wants to stay brave for Luke.

He doesn’t want to scare the young angel.

At first, he’s restless, pacing through the corridors of Purgatory Hall, trying to think of any way to contribute to your search.

But it’s been weeks. And still no sign of you.

Now he sits in one of the arm chairs in his bedroom, gazing out the window.

My little lamb, where have you disappeared to?

A book that he’s given up reading rests on his lap, his fingertips ghosting over the corners of the pages.

He wishes you were here with him, sitting comfortably in his lap while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

His eyes well up with tears at the thought.

Luke checks in with him often, bringing him updates when he can and suggesting they get out of his room for a while.

He sits with Luke in a cafe for a while, nursing a cup of coffee while Luke chatters about all of the things he’s going to do with you when you return.

This should cheer him up, but instead it sends a wave of indescribable sadness washing over him.

It’s not Luke’s fault, of course.

He appears to be handling it better than he is.

Simeon, who normally thrives on the joy he brings others through conversation and gentle smiles, requests to be alone.

He shuts himself away in his room, finally letting the tears fall.

His heart burns with grief as his body trembles.

As a writer, he figures the only thing he can do is compose a letter of his feelings for you.

MC, My love, please return home as soon as you can. Are you safe? I think of you constantly. Your absence brings a great sadness over me that I haven’t felt in quite some time. Even as a well known author, my words alone cannot express how deeply I miss and care for you. I love you, MC. I long to feel the warmth of you by my side once more. -Simeon

💙Luke💙

They try to go easy on telling Luke the news of your disappearance.

The young angel knew something was wrong when Simeon sat him down, a serious expression painted across his face.

“W-What?! MC is gone?!”

His heart is full of sadness and confusion, worried about where you could have possibly ran off to.

You wouldn’t just leave him without telling him where you were going, right?

He tries not to think about that.

So he puts all his energy into baking.

Desserts and pastries of all kinds line the kitchen tables and counters of Purgatory Hall.

Barbatos walks into the kitchen to see flour and a variety of different colored icing all over.

But there is Luke, frosting on his nose and tears in his eyes, baking away.

“I-I have to make sure there’s plenty of desserts for them to eat when they return!”

Luke offers several pastries for Barbatos to take to the brothers.

He doesn’t usually take kindly to them, but he knows they are working hard to find you.

He eventually slows down, growing tired from his baking frenzy.

Simeon goes to check on him, and finds the little angel asleep at the table, his head cradled in his arms and surrounded by a mountain of cookies he just got done baking.

He stirs a little when Simeon carries him to bed.

“M-MC…” he whimpers. “They’ll come back, right?”

He’s half awake now, aware of Simeon tucking him into bed.

The older angel gives him a sad smile. “Of course Luke, they love you so much. I know they’ll return home soon.”

Luke sniffs, a tear falling down his cheek as he begins to drift back to sleep.

“I-I miss them…I want them to try all of my desserts…”

Simeon wipes away his tears, attempting to hold back his own.

Luke begins to snore softly, dreaming of baked goods and picnics where you are there to share them with.

🖤Solomon🖤

When you first go missing, Solomon is confused.

You were just with him, where did you go? Is this some sort of joke?

His worry causes the demon brothers to panic.

Solomon is never too bothered by anything. He’s seen a lot of things in his lifetime.

But when you go missing suddenly with no explanation?

That’s something that terrifies him.

He hears the news from the brothers that your pact is no longer active with them.

That worries him even more.

He immediately jumps into action.

He searches the location of where you were last seen and picks up on lingering traces of magic.

That's odd, he thinks. He was proud of how far you've come with your abilities as his apprentice, but he knew this magic was way too strong to be yours.

This was the work of someone much more powerful.

Nonetheless, a flutter of hope rises in his chest. He's one step closer to finding you.

He analyzes the magic, and comes to the conclusion that you were transported through time to a past version of the Devildom.

Once he connects all the dots, he uses Barbatos' power to find you.

Of course, it takes a few tries, but he finds you.

He let's out a breath of relief as he gathers you into his arms, squeezing you tight.

You sob into his chest as he holds you.

His poor, adorable apprentice. Lost and confused.

"There there, MC. It's going to be alright. We'll get you home soon."

But now he’s stuck there too, with no way to contact the brothers or Diavolo to tell them of your location.

He could, theoretically return but he wouldn't dare go back to the present without you by his side.

Lucifer about murdered him already, and you desperately needed his help.

He secretly couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone.

But this will be interesting, he thought.

Let's see how this plays out.

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daytaker · 4 months

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The Gang React to You Saying You Hate Them

As a disclaimer, I'm going to say that these are reactions to you saying it and meaning it, not just being silly or dramatic. However, I'm also kind of assuming in most cases that this is NOT you saying "I am terminating our relationship entirely and this hate thing is a permanent situation."

The rest of the characters are below the cut.

Lucifer

"Very well. You're entitled to your opinion."

Depending on the situation, he might just shrug it off. It isn't like he hasn't dealt with his fair share of unfair whining from people who are upset with him. It would probably take a pretty emotionally charged situation for him to actually take you seriously.

In that case, he probably wouldn't quite know what would be best to do. He'd give you your space, but generally speaking, his demeanor wouldn't be significantly different. If things remain tense for more than a few days, he'll probably attempt to do the mature thing and sit down with you for a conversation to talk through your differences.

Mammon

"Pfft! No ya don't!"

Stage 1. Denial. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. You're just blowing off some steam. You'll get over it in a minute or two.

Stage 2. Anger. It's been a minute or two. You aren't backing down. Well, whatever! He isn't gonna sit around and let some whiny human talk shit about him! So he's going to maturely stomp to his room and maturely slam the door and maturely turn up some music obnoxiously loud.

Stage 3. Bargaining. Brooding has done whatever good it might have done, so he'll start to think of ways to change your mind about hating him. He's really an awesome guy, so it shouldn't be that hard. Obviously, the best way to let someone know you care is by spending money on them. So he'll go out on the town with a credit card and max it out on objects that are very pretty and shiny but really aren't your taste. (The fact that Mammon's taste is not the same as everyone else's taste mystifies him.)

Stage 4. Depression. The shopping trip having earned him nothing but abuse from Lucifer, he'll spend some time cooped up in his room and mope and sulk but definitely not cry, because how pathetic do you think he is? He ain't cryin' over one puny human!

Stage 5. Acceptance? Wait just a minute. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. He should stop sulking and go talk to you. Definitely not to beg you to forgive him or anything, but maybe if you squinted, it might look like that. Please don't hate him. Please?

Leviathan

"...I guess I should have known."

This is one of the choices that leads you straight to a bad ending. Ignoring him is one thing. Teasing him is another thing. Snapping at him when you're annoyed hurts, but he can justify it. But if you tell Levi you hate him, it will take a monumental amount of effort to undo that damage.

He'll probably assume you've always hated him, and that your friendliness was all an act. He won't be willing to take you at your word if you if you try and tell him that you didn't mean it, because how is he supposed to know that you aren't lying this time?

Satan

If he's (relatively) calm:

"You don't actually mean that. You sound like a child."

His reaction is a little bit like Lucifer's in this case; he'll leave you alone for awhile and not try to keep up the conversation. He won't really believe you actually hate him either. But he is a lot more insecure than Lucifer, so there's a part of him that nags at him... What if they actually hate you? He'll probably be irritable and difficult to approach when those thoughts are especially prevalent. Unfortunately, this is the sort of situation where Satan is immobilized by conflicting thoughts on what's going on, so it will probably be up to you to start a conversation and talk about whatever happened.

If he's very angry:

"Get out of here if you don't want to get hurt."

Whether that's a threat or a warning can be up to interpretation. I imagine that, as the Avatar of Wrath, there's a part of him that feeds on hate, so if Satan was a different sort of character, he'd say something like 'You fool! You're only increasing my power level!' But Satan being Satan, he'll spend some time in whatever room you've left him in and trash it before he calms down, feels extremely ashamed, sulks and/or broods for awhile at a complete loss for how to fix things without rolling over and looking completely pathetic, and, quite possibly, works himself up into another burst of rage from sheer frustration.

Ultimately, he'll probably be more comfortable talking things out through texts than in person (or starting the conversation with a text, then speaking face to face).

Asmodeus

"Hahaha... What...?"

He won't believe you for a second! Partly because, silly, of course you don't hate him, but also because his worldview does not allow for the possibility that someone he cares about might hate him. If he even considers the possibility that you might possibly, hypothetically mean it, he's in for an entire, earth-shattering identity crisis.

If you don't apologize pretty quickly or at least amend the statement to something he can accept, Asmo will head up to his room and hole up in there for awhile, obsessively tracking his social media accounts and pampering himself in the bathroom. You're lying, though. Look at this face! It's impossible to truly hate a face as beautiful as his.

Beelzebub

"Oh... Sorry..."

First he'll look like a deer in the headlights, and then he'll look like a kicked puppy. If he understands what led you to say this, he'll try and fix it, but if he doesn't, he will... (Select an answer below.)

A) Play video games with Levi. B) Go clubbing with Asmo. C) Eat. D) Learn to break dance.

If you guessed C) Eat, then you've been paying attention during your Obey Me! lessons.

And honestly. Honestly! Why would you say something like that? Maybe he's not your favorite brother, but we all know it's simply not possible to actually hate Beel. We all know you're full of it. So knock it off.

Belphie

"...Beel, did you hear something?"

Yep, Belphie is going to pull out all the pettiness he can scrounge up. He believes that the best defense is a good offense, and he's a pro. He'll act haughty and unbothered, ignoring you and looking entirely unbothered between sulking sessions under the covers.

Pettiness aside, you have, knowingly or otherwise, tapped into a source of deep anxiety in your relationship with Belphie. He has not forgotten the whole...incident that took place when you freed him from the attic. He knows that, reasonably, you probably should hate him, and it's amazing to him that you don't seem like you do.

Once tempers have cooled, it might be worthwhile to talk over what happened back then, just the two of you. It was pushed aside too quickly, and you both probably have things you wish you'd said.

Diavolo

"It seems I've upset you. Please know that I never meant to offend you."

He'll see that you're angry with him and give you your space, but he won't be as torn up about this as some of the others. Why? He simply won't believe you.

He has seen your soul, and it is not the soul of a hater.

Barbatos

"Oh?"

Yeah, get in line. Considering the amount of time travel shenanigans this guy has probably pulled, I have no doubt he has amassed more than his fair share of enemies. More than that, he already knows this is just you blowing off steam. Like Diavolo and Lucifer, this is just water off a duck's back.

Although, depending on how irritated he's feeling at the time of the incident, he may or may not wear a smirk as he gives his noncommittal response. Barbatos might be the man with the multiverse in the palm of his hand, but he is not above being petty. Watch your back for a few days.

Solomon

"Ah... It seems I've hit a nerve! I think I'll give you some time to cool down."

He'll back off and leave you to manage your anger in peace. Then he'll settle in to focus on some project or another that requires his undivided attention. He doesn't want to deal with all the unpleasantness that your words stirred up. Honestly, didn't he get past this sort of thing a few centuries ago? What's a little spat between friends? You don't actually hate him; not after all he's done for you. He can't possibly be feeling insecure...?

Nope, all he's feeling is itchy because of the toxic gas that's starting to pour out of his cauldron. He should open a window.

The Angels

I can't even do Simeon and Luke, because they'd both just be so confused and sad that I'm not sure where I'd go with it besides scolding you for being a bully. You don't just say "I hate you" to angels who are either extremely sweet and attractive or actual children.

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gurlwithluvx3 · 2 years

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never alone (2) | OT7

Pairing: friendships w/ OT7 and pregnant!reader (non-idol!AU)

Genre: angst, oc finding herself

Warnings: brief mention of sex, anxiety/depression, feeling of loneliness, talks of pregnancy, navigating an unexpected pregnancy

Word count: ~1.5K

Author's Note: i started this fanfic when i thought i was pregnant (very important for y'all to practice safe sex, srs) and i know that my ex would be a dead-beat, toxic man who wouldn't step up and just added the boys because i know that they would support me x3

Masterpost | (1) (2) (3)

Masterlist

—

You’re 10 weeks pregnant now, barely reaching your 2nd trimester. You’ve experienced the worst of the pregnancy symptoms but was still able to hide your pregnancy from most people.

Out of the two people you’ve told about your pregnancy, one of them was your boss, who suddenly came to your liking. And you can’t help but think it’s because you’re close to his daughter’s age. He’s been wanting a grandchild for so long, he instantly took an interest in your pregnancy. Plus, you can say you have a good relationship with your boss considering that you’ve worked with him for the past 4 years.

You told him the next business meeting, which will take place in 2 weeks, you would announce your pregnancy to the company. And you’ve decided this because you’re sure some people at the office can see how lenient your boss is with you. Like days when you’re in the bathroom more than you are at your desk and he lets you leave earlier than expected. No one would assume you’re pregnant, but they would assume you’re seeing your boss. And you want nothing more than to clear the air.

And the other person you told about your pregnancy is the manager at your favorite coffee shop. You actually have considered him one of your closest friends at one point in time. You saw him in his humble beginnings of being a barista to now the store manager.

And you technically didn’t tell him but instead he guessed it only because he realized you stopped ordering your go-to drink as you only settled for pastries instead.

You’ve known each other for quite some time now, he basically finds things out with a sudden change to your order. Like the time you and your ex broke up, you stopped ordering espresso and settled for a skinny latte and he instantly knew something was up.

Or like the time you had your interview for the position you have now, after working for the same company for 2 years. You had only ordered tea for a whole week straight since you read somewhere that tea calms down anxiety, which was more or less true for you.

But he also could tell by your change of demeanor too. You can say that he was pretty observant of his usual customers, but he was particularly observant with you. He can tell what kind of day you’re having based on how you approach him and his employees as you order.

He knows when he can tease you and when to leave you alone. So when you came in about 5 weeks ago, hair up in a messy bun, eyes as puffy as can be, and your lack of social skills, he knew something was up.

******** flashback

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but are you going to be okay?” He asks as you sit in your corner of the coffee shop. You look around and see only a handful of college students and one employee.

“Hi Yoongs” you say with a defeated tone. And instantly he knew what that meant. He looks to his employee and they both nod, which means to call him only when absolutely necessary.

“What’s going on Y/N?” He says with a hint of concern on his face. The second concerned face you’ve seen today since Namjoon gave you his handkerchief.

You look at him, ready to release all this built up emotions. But then you realized you don’t have that kind of friendship to cry like a baby in front of him. So you take a bite of your pastry and take a deep breath.

“I saw my OBGYN today..” you start, looking at him as his gaze went from concerned to confused in a matter of seconds. “I’m pregnant”.

You’ve never seen his eyes so wide than how it is now. He’s trying not to stare but you know that he has questions.

“It’s his..” you say with shame. “We didn’t have a condom at that time. I don’t even know” you start to say before you feel tears falling from your face.

He quickly stands up and you feel your heart start to sink. The first person you tell and you can’t bear the disappointment. What more for your family and friends?

But then he comes back with a box of facial tissues and some water and sits right back down.

“How are you feeling?” Is all he manages to ask after a moment of silence. He looks at you with a sincere look.

“Nauseous. All I’ve been feeling is nauseous, and I’m only 5 weeks” you whine. But out of nowhere, hearing yourself complain made you laugh. “But considering everything else, I’m okay”.

Yoongi takes a sip of your water as he carefully tries to read you. He’s not sure whether to laugh out of nervousness or cry out of sympathy so he waits for you.

You grab a hold of his shoulder, “I promise I’m okay Yoongs. I’ve made peace with it and just want to do what’s best for the baby and I” you say, rubbing your non-existing tummy.

Hours have passed since you first got to the coffee shop. Chairs are up, his employees are gone, and all that’s left are you, Yoongi, and a salad that was barely touched.

“He should at least know about the baby,” Yoongi says. “I can try to get a hold of him if you want”. Yoongi and your ex were in the same basketball league for a couple of seasons, so Yoongi would consider him an acquaintance at the least.

“No, no, no” you silently yell, shaking your head no. “I’ve reached out to him and told him to call me back because it’s important. If he hasn’t reached out by now, I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore”. You and Yoongi both know this is 100% accurate. But you don’t sound defeated this time around.

“My doctor is going to help me. She’s had a lot of patients dealing with the same thing, she has a consultant for me to speak with sometime next week. I’m not alone” you say to Yoongi trying to reassure him that you’re okay. Or maybe you’re trying to reassure yourself at this point.

And suddenly you feel the warmth of his hand on top of yours. “You’re right about that Y/N. You’re not going to be alone. I’m going to be here for you and your baby. I’m gonna be the best uncle there is!” He says enthusiastically.

The rest of the night, you spend time joking and planning his “uncle and me” time and how he’s going to teach your baby all there is to know about coffee and music. “Your son is gonna be my next protege!” He says out of excitement.

“How do you know it’s going to be a boy?” You ask, laughing at Yoongi’s sudden revelation.

He looks at you and shrugs as he laughs, “I just have a feeling it’s a boy” he says as he looks at your tummy. You start rubbing your tummy and look up to Yoongi before looking back at your stomach.

“Guess we can’t disappoint uncle Yoongi now, baby. You have no choice but to be a boy”. The two of you start laughing and joking a little longer before calling it a night.

As Yoongi locks up his shop he offers you a ride home, since it’s too late for you to take the subway. But he says he has to make a quick detour to drop off something to his friend's place. It’s on the way back to your place so you don’t mind at all, especially since he didn’t have to give you a ride in the first place.

You’re going down a familiar neighborhood, only to realize it’s your exes neighborhood. Or at least his old neighborhood. Yoongi stops a block or two down the road from your exes complex and calls his friend to let him know he’s outside.

And much to your surprise, the friend he called is none other than Namjoon, the kind gentleman who lent you his handkerchief and water.

“What a small world” Namjoon says as he leans over your window as he hands you something to give to Yoongi.

Namjoon stares at you before looking at Yoongi. “I didn’t think I’d see you again Y/N! Are you feeling better?” He asks, taking note of your much better appearance.

You nod and smile, and turn to Yoongi. “Namjoon and I met at the subway station earlier. He’s the one that revived me”. Yoongi smiles and looks at Namjoon.

“Thanks bro, she’s definitely doing much better”, Yoongi says before silence fills the air.

“Well I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone! Have a goodnight!” Namjoon jokes around, and you AND Yoongi both deny Namjoon’s statement.

“Definitely not lovebirds” you say while chuckling. “But he’s definitely a great friend!” You say while you turn back to Namjoon. “Thank you again for earlier by the way”.

You make eye contact with Namjoon and notice his smile looks happier than earlier, and you never realized how contagious a smile can be as you find yourself smiling now too.

#bts fanfic #bts angst #kim namjoon ff #min yoongi ff

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strawberry-lemonade-kisses · 2 years

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Cracks

Warnings: mental breakdown, illness, crying, depression, mention's of death.

Gn! Reader Pt. 2 Here

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Tengen rarely got desperate, he had his life together and knew how and when to get things done. He had no need for last resorts or replacements for anything. He was clear-headed in everything he did. The only time he will admit to becoming desperate or losing his cool was his final mission. He left that morning with promises to bring back your wives, wiping away the tears and making his way towards the butterfly estate to gather assistants. As the mission moved forward and he lost an assistant he felt the cracks in his demeanor. He wouldn’t get his wives if he wasn’t there anymore. When everyone came back, horribly injured and defeated, Tengen admitted-between your cries-where his fault was, his desperation had gotten the best of him. But now, as he watched you fade in and out of consciousness, he felt himself cracking again.

“Tengen-sama, You're too close, please sit down and give them some space, we have to let the fever break by itself” A broken moan slipped from your horrendously pale lips as you looked up at him, hooded eyelids fluttering as you tried to focus on him. Shinobu sat on the other side of you, dabbing at your forehead with cold water like she had been doing for the past few hours.

“Tengen?” a meek voice called from the doorway, Suma peering in from the hallway. “Can I spend some time with them?” he looked back down at your fluttering eyelids, acknowledging the way you attempted to squeeze his hand in reassurance before he stood again.

“Of course my dear, I will be back later.” He patted the back of your hand before releasing you, letting Suma take up the seat beside your bed. He let the door shut behind him before he collapsed, sinking to his knees.

“Fuck” he muttered, letting his head drop into his hand as he ignored the tears burning his eyelashes. He knew he didn’t deserve you enough as it was, but if he was going to let you go it shouldn’t be like this. Your parents, your siblings. How would he explain that he let you get this sick? How would he plead his case that you didn’t tell him you weren’t feeling well until you had collapsed in the yard. He knew he should have stayed home instead of visiting his friends grave yesterday, the gnawing feeling in the back of his head that tried to keep him home, warning him something wasn’t right as you tried to push him out of the house, reminding him that he had promised to spend the same day every month with Kyojuro. If only he had looked closer, if he had noticed the way you covered your mouth as he walked away, hiding your coughs from him. Maybe he could have stayed behind and helped you to bed instead of letting you sew that kimono you promised to Suma. Tengen had already watched his family fall apart, he watched each of his brothers fall at his feet. So why did the new family he built have to do that too?

“Tengen? Tengen! What's wrong” He was pulled out of his daze with rough hands gripping at his wrist, shaking him out of his own hand. The bandage on his left arm loosened in her grip as he looked up at his wife, Makio’s scared eyes looking back at him. “What’s wrong?” She asked again. She was scared, just as much as he was.

“I’m sorry, I should have noticed, they didn’t look good yesterday, I should have stopped but they kept saying everything was okay. I’m horrible, what if they don't make it? What if this becomes permanent?”

“Tengen, it’s not your fault. None of us noticed. It will be okay, I trust Kocho and I called for one of the doctors at the hospital like she said. If it gets worse we will move them” Makio was gentle as she spoke, trying to soothe Tengen’s overwhelming anxiety. The anchor of the household, the strong one that you all followed like lost puppies, remaining calm as long as he did, he was falling apart at the seams and everything around him was doing the same. “It’s going to be fine. they are going to be fine” She was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince Tengen, but he ignored it to pull her into him, holding her close while he cried.

“I can’t lose any of you. I can’t lose anymore” He mumbled, tightening the hold his left arm had on his wife.

“Tengen, look at me” Makio lifted his head, forcing vermillion eyes to look into brown eyes as she stared him down. “We aren’t losing anyone” she nodded, forcing Tengen to agree with her, affirming their resolve as they embraced once more. “Come on, Hinatsuru is making dinner, lets go help so we can eat and rest, gotta stay nice and Healthy for Y/N when they get better, okay?” Tengen just nodded, wiping the tears off of his cheeks before they dried. Makio smiled as she stood, holding a hand for her husband to take. He wasn’t alone anymore, Tengen was constantly reminded of that when he felt himself breaking, and he was beyond thankful for it.

#tengen x reader #tengen uzui #uzui tengen #kny uzui #kimetsu no yaiba uzui #uzui's wives #tengen #uzui makio #uzui hinatsuru #uzui suma #suma kny #hinatsuru kny #makio kny

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luvyanfei · 3 years

Text

how they comfort you when you’re sad

ft. diluc, kaeya, venti, childe, zhongli, albedo, & xiao non-requested piece

diluc ragnvindr.

as stoic as diluc may be, he’s the most emotionally affected by your misery out of the others listed here, but he’s clueless in how to help. he’s not adept in everything despite being known for being a perfectionist and unfortunately, comforting you is one of them. he would reach out a hand to you, and then pull it back to his side before you notice. it annoys him greatly how he can insult the knights without hesitation and combat against his enemies confidently, and yet...

it’s easy to get diluc flustered over the simpler things in life. you’re usually so happy and lively, the light to his dark that he finds it almost eerie to see you looking depressed as you enter the tavern. you don’t even spare him a glance, and slumps down at an empty seat, your head splayed down on the table. out of concern for your wellbeing, the winery owner whips up your favourite drink free of charge and delivers it himself to your spot. instead of leaving you as one would expect, he pulls up a chair and taps the wooden surface of the table with his gloved fingers, stirring you to look up at him. he greets you in a monotone voice unintentionally, and shyly asks if there are any problems going on in your life. he may not look like it, with how distant he is, but diluc would be very pleased to help you.

with hesitation, you take the drink and start taking small sips from the cup. the savory taste melts on your tongue and your lips quiver slightly. before you know it, you’re reduced into a sobbing mess, your tears staining the floor. “what’s wrong?” dismayed, diluc rises up and pats your back, handing you a handkerchief from his jacket pocket for you to wipe your tears away with.

he ushers you into a private room where nobody can see you and rubs your hands together. he doesn’t talk, instead fixating on calming you down. dabbing at your swollen eyes and cheeks gently with a drenched towel, diluc cradles your face and leans in close to you, your foreheads touching. “i’m here, [name],” his voice is soft and delicate, a sharp contrast to his formal and uninterested tone, “i will always be here for you, so you don’t need to worry about suffering alone. we’ll get through this together, alright?”

kaeya alberich.

he’ll take you to the tavern with him for a nice drink. it won’t do you any good to be by yourself and moping, right? as hypocritical as it may seem, kaeya is fully accepting of you coming to him for emotional support despite being rather closed-off when it comes to his personal emotions. if you’re underage, he’ll purchase you a soft drink or juice, and if not, a glass of wine will surely boost your spirits up. his attempt to cheer you up is to temporarily distract you from it. quite clever of him, no? of course, his objective isn’t for you to ignore your problems altogether, but to take your mind off of it until you can think a bit clearly.

kaeya will act like a gentleman the whole time, letting a few teasing remarks slip out every now and then, but his attitude is toned down for the most part. after you consumed a plentiful amount of beverages, he takes a stroll with you in the night, passing by a bard stringing music on their lyre. this gives the cavalry captain an idea and he takes you into a secluded area, fireflies glowing to add a touch of whimsy to the scenario. still gripping your hand, he raises it up to kiss the surface and proposes you to join him in for a dance under the moonlight and stars.

kaeya looks at you with a brimming grin. “are you feeling better now?” you nod, placing a hand on his open palm.

“now that you’re here, yes, i am.” his smile broadens and cups your cheek with his free hand. the tip of his thumb lightly grazes your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. the kiss is passionate and savory, a description that fits your relationship perfectly.

“i’m glad you do,” he pulls back and breathes out a sigh of relief. “it’s the same with me. i admit, i also enjoy your company very much.”

venti.

it’s best to let your emotions run loose. don’t bottle it up, okay? if you need to cry, then cry. sure, venti may act all carefree and exuberant, but even he has his serious sides from time to time. he takes the situation rather calmly, pulling you into a comforting embrace and rubbing your back as you tearfully sob. when he feels that you’re muscles have slowly relaxed and your cries have been reduced to tiny sniffles, he transitions out of the hug and places his hands on your shoulder, all with an angelic smile on his face. see, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?

if you’re up for it, venti will be happy to play you a quiet melody carried in the night breeze. he’ll position your head to lean on his shoulder as both of you sit down on the ground and he clears his throat before he begins singing. the stringing of the lyre, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the background, and the soothing sound of his voice automatically brings a smile to your lips. snuggling closer to him, you drift in a state of contentment and serenity. once the bard catches wind of your heavy breathing, your eyes fluttered closed, he stops his singing and presses a dainty kiss to your forehead.

carefully, so he doesn’t disturb your slumber, venti carries you back to your resident and tucks you into bed. as he’s about to head off, you snag him by the wrist, and tug him back to your side. “please don’t go yet, venti.” he pats the hand imprisoning his wrist and chuckles in amusement.

“don’t worry. i don’t plan on ever doing something like that.” he crawls into bed with you, tangling your legs together and hooking his arms around your waist. the tip of his nose grazes your hair faintly as your back is pressed against his chest. “not now, and not ever.”

childe.

he’s the eleventh harbinger, yes, but beneath his fearsome title and mischievous demeanor, childe is a regular human with an affable heart. it hurts him seeing you look dejected, as if you’re on the brink of suffocating from insufferable pain. it’s like your emotions are a type of infection, contagious to say the least. if you’re happy, then he’s happy. if you’re sad, then you’ll bet he’s also going to drop his jovial gleam. luckily, growing up with siblings gives him an advantage here. he’s used to taking care of others and turning their frowns upside down.

if he finds out someone has been upsetting you, he’ll personally deal with them himself, ordering them to apologize lest they want to face his wrath. if you’re having financial difficulties, he’ll lend you a generous amount of mora so you can clear your debts or help you find a well-paying job. either way, he’ll cradle you in his arms and compliment you for being strong, no matter what life throws at you. life’s hard, but that’s all the more reason why you should keep marching forward - hand in hand with childe.

“shh, [name], it’s okay. don’t cry.” childe kneels before you and wipes away a salty tear. grabbing a teddy bear abandoned on the ground, he shoves it in front of your face. to your sudden bewilderment, he grabs the bear’s arm to pat you on the head and grins. “there, there. mr. teddy is here to make you happy once more.”

you sputter out a giggle despite tears still leaking from your eyes. “childe, i’m not a little kid anymore. cut it out!” he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks when you pout cutely at him.

“fine, fine. i’ll stop, but hey! at least you’re smiling again, right?” you roll your eyes and sniff.

“yeah, i’m feeling a little better. thank you.”

your comment forms a blush to dust his cheeks and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “there’s no need for gratitude. to me, your smile is the one thing i’d hate to lose.”

zhongli.

feeling sad? his arms are already wide open and a box of tissues is conveniently laid on the table. zhongli is the wave that laps up your sorrows and tears, the lulling sound of his voice uttering words of reassurance like a tranquil melody to set your heart at ease. he’s the type who will lend a shoulder for you to cry on. while he brews up a nice cup of tea to soothe your mind, he encourages you gently to tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. he soaks up every syllable that falls from your lips like a sponge and in a pensive state, he gives you advice in turn.

you take his words to heart, since everything he’s said before have always been genuine and your trust in him runs deeper than the bottom of the sea. sure, maybe not everything he says is the answer that will cause your problems disappear, but he does guide you to choose rationally how you want to approach it. as much as zhongli would like to solve everything for you, he’s aware that there are times where only you have the potential to fix the issue.

the golden ginkgo leaves twirl in the autumn breeze, as zhongli clasps his hands with yours. you adjust the scarf around your neck, shivering from the mild chill settling in liyue.

you stare grimly at the seagulls soaring in the cloudy sky, and peers down at your feet planted firmly on the ground. a frown tugs on your lips and you sigh. a warm hand caresses your cheek and you look towards zhongli smiling gently in your direction. wiping away the tears that are beginning to moist your eyes, he encages you in a comforting hug.

“don’t hold it in,” zhongli whispers soothingly in your ear, “you’re allowed to cry if you want. i promise you, there’s no judgement.”

albedo.

it’s like he has a sixth sense. you could have been crying in your sleep last night and the first thing you wake up to is all your favourite meals placed rigorously on a sliver tray and a positive message with cursive, neat handwriting scribbled on a notepad for you to read. albedo is rather considerate, like that. before you started to live together and entered a more domestic relationship, he visited your home and asked if anything was wrong in a neutral tone that belied his concern. you were shocked how he could have possibly known since you were sure you concealed the visible evidences skillfully with makeup, and you looked quite normal for the most part, as if you hadn’t been crying mere seconds before he knocked on your door.

he shrugs indifferently and responds that he just has a feeling something’s bothering you. albedo will take a day off from his confinement in his lab so he can stay with you. he takes you by the hand and gestures for you to sit down on a nearby chair beside him, offering you delectable appetites to eat while you rant to him. once you’re finished spilling out your problems, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you that you did a good job. it isn’t easy to admit you’re not mentally well, in which he praises you for.

hugging your legs to your chest, you quietly ask him if it’s not a bother. firmly, albedo shakes his head and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “no, you’re never a bother.” he scoops up a spoonful of ice cream and feeds you the cool dessert. once you swallow, his lips curve into a little smirk as he wipes away the excess on the side of your mouth with a finger and licks the cream off with his tongue.

“whether you’re happy, sad, or disappointed, my love for you will never change.”

xiao.

he’s not very good at handling these types of situations. xiao can never know what he’s supposed to say or do to make you feel better, so he just stands there awkwardly. please don’t blame him! he’s already terrible at consoling himself that having to cheer someone else up seems more like an impossible challenge than a simple task. however, like albedo, he can also sense if you’re depressed or in need of saving. what do you mortals call it, an instinct?

he asks verr for advice on what to do to help, and she suggests for him to stick by your side and show that he cares deeply about you. it takes xiao a while to come up with a suitable plan. he wanders up to the highest floor of wangshu inn and reminisces over the past. your first meeting with him, the time when you gave him almond tofu, and when you both fought together to protect liyue - he’s memorized it all down to the last detail. suddenly, an idea clicks into place and he teleports immediately to where you are. sitting on a bench alone, while you absentmindedly watch the birds peck at the crumbs scattered on the cement floor, it takes you by surprise when you find xiao hovering above you. he reaches out his hand and composedly asks if you would be willing to accompany him for the night.

when you encounter him at the location where you agreed to meet, you curiously question xiao what he wants to do, but he doesn’t reply. instead, he scoops you up in his arms, a surprised expression on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t end up falling. before you know it, both of you are... soaring in the air? your eyes subconsciously drift to his vision glowing brightly in the murky night. so he’s using his anemo abilities to create wind currents and literally sweep you off your feet.

“do you see this place?” he gestures with his head for you to look at liyue harbor. the city lights glow in the darkness and most people are walking back home, idly chatting with each other and giggling. “it wouldn’t be as peaceful as it is now if it weren’t for you. so if you ever feel sad again, know that it’s you who puts a smile on everyone’s faces - including mine.”

and with that, xiao smiles serenely at you, to which you finally offer a grin of your own.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #albedo #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #venti #venti x reader #childe x reader #childe #diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Oʀᴏᴛᴜɴᴅ

Requested?: Yes. Contains allusions to sex and illness, non graphic.

Word Count: 3301

Eren has disappeared beyond the walls, finding refuge with a sick ex-soldier.

Orotund: (adj.*) speaking or singing with fullness, clarity, or strength of song or voice.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sickness had spread slowly, but surely.

You couldn’t tell where you had gotten it from. At first, you had assumed it was simply an intensified version of the flu. However, the longer you took care of yourself, the more you realized that this was far worse.

Dividing the time into five stages, you began keeping note of what was happening to you during Stage Two. During Stage One, you began to experience relatively short periods of a fever. They’d usually last for days at a time, with you lying in bed draping a wet rag on your forehead. So intense, you could not even get up to urinate or eat, it was difficult not to feel pathetic.

Stage Two had made the fever die down. You were more than thankful for this, of course, but it had come with it’s own crashing, crushing waves. Stage Two had begun to make you lose weight at a rapid and inexplicable pace. You often frowned at yourself in the mirror, observing how your torso was slimming and shaping around the form of your ribs. It came before the loss of appetite, which only made matters that much worse.

Stage Three, during which you had met him, was strange. It didn’t directly cause any physical changes to you, but it did indirectly. You grew restless in the night, and exhausted during the day. Riddled with fatigue, the daily chores you relied on for life became troublesome. Drawing water from the well strained your back, and because of what Stage Two had done to your stomach, you lacked the energy needed to keep yourself upright.

One day, in whatever season it had been, you returned to your cabin to find a stranger inside. Instantly on sight, your pail of drinking water fell from your fingers and splashed against the wooden floors. Your boots and socks were soaked. The knocking of wood against wood made your ears ring as if a bomb had gone off.

The boy was still, but his eyes were somewhat wide as if he was also surprised. He must not have considered someone was already living in the cabin. Yet, he was sitting at your dining table, watching you with open eyes and open ears.

Before you could scold, yelp, or simply say hello, you collapse over. The fatigue overpowers you and you crash against your counter in a heap.

The boy leapt forward on instinct. His right arm wrapped around your back to steady you somewhat, his left hand gripping onto your other shoulder. It didn’t help you too much, as your ankle was already rolling out from under you, but it did keep you from hitting the floor completely. Thus, the boy had at least saved you a head injury.

“My room,” you croaked with hazy eyes. The hand attached to the arm over his back weakly pointed in the direction of your bedroom. It wasn’t too far away. You were lucky that he craned his head to see where you were gesturing to, and understood. “I have to get to... my room...”

“Right,” the boy replied.

He hoisted you up, the both of you grunt quietly in unison. And then he practically dragged you across the floorplan of your home, stumbling and groaning all the way. The boy let you drop into your bed on your own, partially kicking him in the process.

You hum out a sigh of relief. Your head is immediately alleviating itself, and the room is ceasing to spin so quickly. The boy is confused as to the lack of yelling or anger. Instead, he is enthralled with the calm, tired, demeanor of your form. He’d broken into your cabin, eaten your food, and you hadn’t even looked mad. In fact, you looked almost sickly.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Stage Four brought depression. Yes, you already had that. But now your sickness was piling onto the chemical imbalances, adding to the lack of calories, nutrients, and sleep. Whatever strength you had before was dwindling away faster than before, although this time, things were different.

The strangers name was Eren. Eren Jaeger. He had large, piercing teal eyes, bold eyebrows, and dark hair. At the time of your meeting, it was the length of his shoulders. His palms were wrapped in gauze at the time, but it wasn’t permanent. He’d since removed them, and helped you work.

Eren was strong. He could repair things that were broken around the cabin and help you with the well upkeep. Sometimes he would go hunting and bring home venison or herbs for you, which was kind. He didn’t ask for much in return, other than you not tell anyone of his presence. Not like you had anyone to tell anyways.

Eren gave you a ride on his Titan once or twice too. That was something you loved. You were scared at first, but Eren didn’t let anything happen to you. He would lift you up in the palm of his hand so you could reach the fruits at the top of the tallest of trees. Then you’d go home and slice the fruit up for him in a small bowl.

He slept on the bench in the living room. You’d felt particularly guilty about that part, but your weak body needed all the relaxation it could get. Eren knew that, and he never forced you to share or give more than was even remotely necessary. Really, Eren was quiet most days. He seemed to do a great bit of brooding, but you’d grown accustomed to the presence of another human being, and thus, warmth. And Eren liked you. You weren’t obsessive, didn’t yell for the way he cleaned, didn’t rip up his clothes, or remind him of a fading dream.

Time blurs together when you’re living on your own in the middle of nowhere, but the boy was with you for more than two months, at least. He figured out that you were sick in that span of time, including that you didn’t deserve to be. There wasn’t much around your cabin to suggest much of past life. Eren didn’t blame you. That’s why he stayed in the cabin as well- hoping to leave the past for a blank space.

You took care of each other. Your favorite example was on a morning in Spring.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Eren wore a simple brown cloak. No shirt underneath, giving you a much appreciated view of the boys abdominal muscles. Though, you’d probably never get the opportunity to admit you found the boy physically appealing, you took it in. His hair was back in a bun today. The sun broke over the horizon, illuminating his eyes.

Jaeger held your horse by the reigns. His right bare foot was rubbing against his left shin, tired as the horse began to excrete last nights meal. Eren must’ve gotten up earlier than usual this morning for chores, because the circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. Not that it specifically mattered. He looked handsome all the same. You appreciated the view for a few minutes before starting towards the well.

First, you set the bucket on the earth where the water is sure to fall. Then, you place both hands on the pump, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. Stage Four has made you weaker than most people. This will take a lot out of you.

Pushing down, it takes all of your strength to get a single pump of water into the pail. It’s not enough, and sweat is already beading at your forehead. It’s not even hot yet, and something mediocre is nearing you close to death. Your heart strains against your chest, but you ignore it. You have to get the water.

You push down a second time. Now, the container is half full of the clear stuff. It ripples in the light of the sun like a rainbow. Your head feels like it’s on fire. A slow, dull fire. You have to push a third...

With a final great heave, your blistered hands scrape against the contraption. The water gushes out like a miracle, filling the bucket again. So crisp it makes your mouth water, you kneel to the ground to catch your breath.

Stop, your heart begs. Stop. Rest. But the responsibility is staring you dead in the eyes, and you can’t ignore it. And you can’t ask Eren to go a day without water. He deserves it. For Eren’s sake, you must do this.

Although your world is dizzy, you push yourself to your feet. Your blistered fingers wrap around the handle, ready to pick it off the ground without issue. However, water buckets are heavy. There is nothing you can do but struggle to raise it off the ground, tears and sweat pricking at the corners of your eyes and goosebumps appearing at your arms. It’s not even really that chilly.

Eren was like a God sent. You didn’t fully hear what he said to you, but you felt his arms slide around you to lift you up. “Y/N, do you hear me? You have to stand, alright?” You hadn’t replied.

Jaeger connected the dots. With one half of his body, he leveraged you up and to your feet. With the other, he grabbed the pail of water and began moving forward.

It was slow with you practically slumped against him, but he was a soldier. Eren wasn’t about to just let you drop in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn’t let you succumb to your illness that easily, if he let you succumb to anything at all.

Eren set you on your bed. You had a fever, so he laid a wet cloth across your forehead. He stripped you down to your undergarments as respectfully as one could, laying two more rags on your forearms for extra help. Then he drew you a bath, knowing the water would be cold for your lingering fever. He never asked for anything in return.

But, he had set a hand against your shoulder. His thumb ran in soft circles against your hot skin, a comforting, loving gesture. You could feel his long hair brush against your chest as he leaned down to make sure your heart was still beating. Aside from a slight palpitation, it seemed in working order.

His brushing thumb lingered a moment longer before he let you rest. Even in sleep, you missed it. You wouldn’t forget this.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This leads us into the final Stage. Stage 5. The one where you die at the end.

“Eren,” you call out softly, watching the curtain windows sheer in the sunlight.

In response, the boy bows his head to look down at you. His eyes are calm, but bright as always. His hair is half up, half down. Laying between his thighs comfortably, your stomach rumbles from hunger. Despite this, things are quiet.

“Yes?” he replies.

You swallow dryly. Then you reveal your desire. “Do you sing?”

His right hand comes to rest on your forehead. Yes, you have the fever again. But Eren knows you are in the right mind. His thumb strokes your temple, catching a few wisps of your hair as he does so.

“Not well,” he answers with the ghost of a smile. “You want me to sing to you?”

You shift, and one of your hand grazes by his knee. “Maybe,” you tease back. Then you frown. “You seem tired today.”

Eren exhales. His right hand lays against your forehead, a mix of concern and something like affection.

“Is it the Attack Titan?” you continue, gazing up at him through soft lashes.

It was. Eren’s history- the worlds history- was churning around his mind until it seemed like a bunch of mush. You were the only thing that was clear to him at this point. But you were silent. Calm, compared to everything else in the universe.

“No,” Eren decides to assure light heartedly. His thumb begins to circle around your sticky skin in the little way that it does. “It’s nothing.”

Silence again.

The warm breeze brushes against the window outside, but it’s not loud. It’s warm from the light of the sun, and the hills of emerald grass span for miles ahead. The sky is as blue as the birds that soar across it. Serene. That was how you would describe the life you currently lead. And blessed be you for leading it as peacefully and quietly as the loud and complicated world would allow.

“I think I’m going to die soon.”

The quiet was broken with another fracture of quiet. Eren’s heart gave a great, vibrating beat, and then paused. In contrast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d heard your heart beat.

All the violent death he’d seen, just for you to die of an unknown illness?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You knew you were going to die at the end. You knew it for a fact. You’d just gotten lucky.

Lucky, you think as you look up at the man above you. Yeah, I’m lucky.

His pacing is held back for fear of hurting you. His long, dark hair sways back and forth in time with his thrusts. His face is contorted, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and determination. There’s a little clear, slick spot on the corner of his lips. It slips from between, drips down his chin, and onto your abdomen. Eren wants to apologize, but his teeth are gritted together and he doesn’t want to embarrass either of you with shaky words.

You don’t mind. There’s no need for Eren to apologize. Eren is and always has been a sight for sore eyes, especially for you. And, blessings onto your own soul, you’re getting more butterflies from knowing he’s one of the last things you’ll see and feel than what he’s doing with you.

Your eyes are glued to his. What color are they? Emerald, like the grass? Blue, like the sky? Could they be teal? Yes, that must be it. Though, sometimes you swear they’re gold instead.

Lucky.

You both end up finishing. He keeps himself from collapsing on top of you before asking if you’ll be alright if he bathes. You assure him it’s more than okay as he rubs his thumb over your temple. Some people might be upset at their partner for leaving after what you’ve done, but you understood. Physical contact is hard for soldiers. You know. But Eren promises he’ll be back silently, because he feels guilty about it.

If you had a bit longer, maybe this wouldn’t be the only time you and the boy could do this. Actually, what had even led to it? What had taken it this long? You’d had dinner. The light from the candles came on, and you’d met his gaze. The rest was all steam and blurs.

When your living mate returns, your back is facing from him. You’re watching the fresh drops of rain crash against the window, falling from under a dark grey cast. There will be a thunderstorm tonight. You wonder if Eren will want to stay in your bed tonight, or if he’ll insist on taking the bench.

You feel his hands, previously burning hot, touch your shoulder, now ice cold. The mattress dips under his weight behind you, and then you feel his toned torso flush against you.

His face brushes against your ear so you can hear him speak softly. “I’m sorry if I took too long,” Eren mutters. A few wisps of hair brush against your jaw, but he’s tied it back now.

In one fluid motion, a hand of your own comes to stroke at his cheek. “You didn’t.”

His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, before he pulls away to put his face in the back of your neck. His hand remains around you tight, so you know he wants you right where you are.

You didn’t tell Eren that your time was practically numbered. Maybe it would be weeks, days, or hours. You should’ve told him before you let him inside you, but you’d been a bit distracted. Anxious, too. The moment was worth ruining with something so silly and small. But now it’s done. The only sounds echoing around the cabin is the pitter pattering of the rain, and the oncoming onslaught of booming thunder.

You have to tell him, you say to yourself as his grip on you tightens. Before he tugs your body closer like a lover again.

Before you can speak, Eren mumbles something against the skin of your neck. “Follow my lead.”

What?

He hums for a few seconds. At first, you think it’s just the hum of insanity, random and undefined. The you realize the changes in pitch are too thought out to be random. It’s a song.

“...always picking a fight with me...”

It feels hazy, far away. Sort of heavenly. Even with his low, muffled voice, it’s easy to hear the musical tones oozing from the whole thing.

“...you know I’m bad, but you’re still spending the night with me.”

That line feels more like he’s speaking it into you. It’s personal.

“...what do you want from my world?”

If you had it your way, or his way, there wouldn’t be anybody else but the two of you and your cabin. Still, this also feels like a genuine question. Maybe it is.

There’s a dry kiss placed against your shoulder blade before Eren continues the tune. Humming. And then, “...every night I’m out... killin’, send everyone runnin'...”

Eren pulls you closer against him and inhales somewhat sharply. You crane your neck deeper into the pillow, silently wishing that you could feel his swollen lips against it.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he sings, a bit clearer now. “I have demon eyes.”

Eren’s hand creeps up from your shoulder to your throat, able to choke you if he so wanted. His thumb strokes over your Adam’s apple instead. Eren grants your wish, raising his face so his lips brush over the skin by your jaw instead of the back of your head. A soft kiss is pressed to the area, almost as if he was nervous.

“...they’re looking right through your anatomy...”, he seems to nuzzle against you lightly, though that feels somewhat out of character. “...your deepest fears, I’m not from here...”

Like before, he pushes his head back into your hair. He groans like he’s stretching before going on.

“...to me, you’re clear... transparent. You have a thing for me... it’s apparent...”

The rain is falling harder now.

“...you’re not so bad...”

Eren isn’t bad at all. He sighs against you, his fingers stroking your skin gently.

“...it’s not something I have to try... oh, for the table, as long as I am able... I’m not trying to be bad.”

I’m going to die soon, Eren.

“No... different.”

He doesn’t continue. Only his thumb continues on, circling round and round in an unknowing attempt to express comfort.

“I thought you said you didn’t sing well,” you whisper into the darkness.

“I don’t,” he speaks against you.

What a liar. And you, the lucky one for knowing the truth.

Eren doesn’t move positions until you’ve fallen asleep, at which point he eventually turns his back to you in his own slumber. And Eren knew that you were sick, but he also knew that you were capable.

You weren’t breathing when he woke up.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I guess that’s that. I think I like it but I’m not sure about the ending. Mine aren’t usually so simple. Maybe I should’ve made it less depressing. Eh.

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matth1w · 3 years

Text

Tribulations

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: Catching the eye of the interviewer, you face trials of temptation and faith.

Associated Verse: Blessed is the one who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and heeds the things which are written in it; for the time is near. Revelation 1:3

Warnings: Death, Violence, Blood, Nightmares, Mental Manipulation, Blasphemy (Michael Langdon and all his fuckery)

Rating: All, but it’s a darkish fic

Word Count: 3,070 Words

Note: I very intentionally did not use his first name

Note 2: I’m not back... just finally finished & edited something for once 😅

Forever Tags: @captainrogerss // @banditthewriter // @fics-not-tragedies // @commander-writergirl // @zodiyack

Tag Lists Are Open / Requests are Closed

D O N O T R E P O S T M Y W O R K

The crackling embers calmed you and guided your heartbeat to slow to a steady tempo. The warmth that radiated from the fireplace threatened to bring a slew of memories from what felt like a past life.

You knew you should turn to face your interviewer, that you probably seemed rude ignoring him to instead stare longingly into the warming fire but something kept you there.

You felt... safe.

For the first time since the sirens sounded, you felt safe.

That thought brought you peace and you finally sighed in content and smiled as you turned to face the man who claimed to be your savior.

Mr. Langdon simply raised his eyebrows at you, not commenting on your actions of the past few minutes. The only other movement was his fingers slowly stroking the underside of his chin. They seemed to sparkle from the light catching the shining stones and golden metal.

He seemed more at ease as well, like he was able to experience the thoughts of peace and happiness that had been running in your mind. Or maybe the fire brought its own kind of warmth to him as well.

The sound of a log crumbling into ash turned your attention back to the fireplace. Your eyes only rested there for a moment but when you turned back the man in front of you had changed.

No longer a beautiful man leisurely sitting by the fire, Mr. Langdon instead had a furrowed brow with a matching grimace and leaned forward the moment your eyes met his once more.

You found yourself wondering what could have brought this sudden change. Before your thoughts could spiral any deeper into questions, you saw him open his mouth to speak. The low timber and plush lips brought an unwilling blush to your cheeks.

“How are you... enjoying things at the outpost?” Mr. Langdon’s pause and scrutinizing eyes made you nervous. Like he was a seasoned hunter laying a perfectly placed trap and he had no true care for your enjoyment, and instead was hoping you fell for the trick.

Despite the countless warning signs blaring in your mind, for some reason you wanted to tell him the truth. How much you hated Madam Venable for ruining an already depressing situation, how you wanted to scream every time a petty argument broke out over dinner, how many nights you laid awake wondering why you were facing this tribulation. Were you chosen or simply damned?

Oh, many times you wished you could escape this sadistic stone tomb.

Recalling his assurance, rather threat, that he would know if you dared to lie to him, you settled on the truth... just more simple.

“This isn’t how I imagined the apocalypse would go.”

A weighted statement full of multiple meanings but the truth nonetheless.

At that, you saw his lips flick up into a quick smile and his eyes glimmer in the low light dancing around the room.

“Is that so?” Mr. Langdon leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his knee, the simple movement somehow seductive.

A flutter in your heart brought warmth to your body. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed to amuse Mr. Langdon, got him to smile in a way that didn’t seem malicious. Made him turn into the man you had seen just moments before.

You let yourself smile in return. For some reason, your tense body relaxed as if you were two friends casually conversing over a shared humorous experience.

Instead of laying out your reasons, something reckless inside your soul emboldened you to taunt him with a vague truth. Something about his pretentious demeanor intrigued you, especially after Gallant mimicked his line about being able to sense the darkest things about a person. You were desperate to see what he was hiding in the shadows of his own being.

“Yes.”

You looked him in the eyes, watching as he stared back blankly, his mask of aloof superiority now back. You knew it then to be a mask — you could feel his genuine self itching to be shown.

He was genuinely pleased to have someone make him feel something. For a moment, you wanted to continue your thoughts, share every thought and feeling and secret, but you wanted to see how far the game would go.

Your rational side knew it would likely end with you being left to rot in the outpost. It didn’t matter much. You accepted your death long ago and this entertainment finally brought some life back into your veins.

After nearly a minute of a scrutinizing glare, Michael removed his hands from his knee and laid them flat on the arms of the black leather chair.

Your attention was brought to the ringed fingers drumming lightly, as if he was pondering his next words. Something inside you didn’t quite believe him. As if it was an act for show. That he knew exactly was he was going to do next. He was simply... waiting.

Toying with you.

Seeing if you’d crack under the silence. Fill the lack of noise and if so, how you’d do it.

With an apology?

An insecure question?

A babbling attempt to say what you think he wants to hear?

Or something... else?

You thought forcing Michael to speak next would surely annoy him but instead when he opened his mouth, he seemed as if he was amused by your resolute rebellion. His teeth shined from the flickering fire, making him seem like a hungry beast.

The warmth seemed to increase from your side, like the flames were growing, intensifying, as you pressed on. You wondered if your words or his were the fuel.

“Venable told me you caused quite a ruckus when you got here.”

You grimaced, recalling your punishment of starved time in the cell below.

“Is that a question?”

His eyebrows raised at your snarky retort, his mouth a thin line. He must be getting impatient. You didn’t like this look of him.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured out with a well placed sigh.

“I just... didn’t, and don’t, agree with that rule.”

He hummed noncommittally.

“This outpost has a quite extensive library. So why bother yourself with stealing something as silly as fairytales?”

There was an challenge in his eyes as he continued speaking as he stood.

“Now, at least it wasn’t some cute version, I’ll give you that.”

His steps resounded as he moved to circle behind you. Daring you to follow him with your eyes or a turn of your head but you stayed still.

“How many days did Venable keep you in that cell?”

He placed his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning over to encircle you even further. His presence smothering you as the heat suffocated you even further. You couldn’t tell if it came from him or the fire.

“Hmm? Tell me, was it worth it?”

As his last words left his mouth in a whisper, he leaned in so his mouth was brushing against your hair.

Your breath hitched from his proximity, your skin raised in what felt like a strange mix of fear and anticipation. Your mouth felt dry as you forced yourself to swallow.

“Yes.”

The simple response and all its weight hung heavy in the air as only the sound continued to be the still lively fire to your right. You knew it to be no ordinary thing. Mr. Langdon made no movement, staying torturously close.

After what felt like an eternity, he took in a deep breath through his nose, seeming to breathe you in as much as he was refilling his lungs. You wondered if he even needed to breathe.

You could sense the satisfied smirk and feel the hot air as he leaned in to the shell of your ear.

“Good.”

You were unsure how to respond. Even more unsure if you should.

Mr. Langdon stood upright again, the soft brush of cool air hitting the back of your neck, relieving you as it sent shivers down your spine.

His left hand came into your view and you finally looked up at him, hesitant to instantly take it as much as you wanted to. There was still a part of you that was weary and unsure. Unwilling to not question.

Seeing a polite, disarming smile on his lips, you placed your hand in his, surprisingly warm and soft, and rose from your seat.

He turned your body towards him, the proximity once again sending mixed signals throughout your body. More so excitement now, but still laced with the ever present tendrils of trepidation.

He took his hand from yours but then moved to place it under your chin. Not cupping it in a romantic manner, but like how an adult would do to a pitifully naive child.

Your skin flushed where it met his, like he had the same power as the fireplace before. Something in the back of your mind noted how it had simmered once more. The flames calming as you accepted his extended hand.

Mr. Langdon cocked his head and let his eyes be overrun with clear pity. He even sealed what felt like the overly faux emotion with an empathetic sigh.

“Although life isn’t the fairytale you wished for, try to make the best of it, princess.”

You had to control every muscle in your face to not scrunch your nose at the words that stung like a patronizing slap despite the show of emotions that accompanied them.

Not trusting your tongue, you silently nodded. His fingers dug in for a moment like he was dissatisfied you maintained your composure and was about to lose his. He ripped his hand from your chin with a snarl and turned around to step behind his desk, his eyes roaming the wooden surface as he flexed his fingers, perhaps your touch had pained him.

He pulled out the thin black chair before he paused and looked back up at you, once more a different man than moments before. A Cheshire grin was clear on his face and that same glimmer of mischief back again.

“Oh, one last thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?” you forced out evenly, trying your best to control the whirlwind of emotions pounding on the door inside your chest to be let out.

“Remember, heed the warning of Snow White. Never trust witches or beautiful apples.”

His sing song voice sounded light like another taunt with his dismissive wave but the look in his eyes turned dark and intense as he lowered himself into his chair. Like he was spurring, no demanding you to remember his words, this moment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The somber warning that felt like a thinly veiled threat haunted your bones. He made no other comments to you that day or any other, didn’t even bother to look at you when you two were in the same room or hall.

You thought he had forgotten about you. His amusement snuffed out and attention passed to the others... until the night before Halloween. Or simply, what you were told was Halloween.

You opened your bedroom door to find an unfamiliar book lying open on your pillow. Its golden edges shined in the candlelight as you cautiously stepped forward. A Bible - open to the first page of the Book of Revelation.

Blood red words stood out, written in the margins. You leaned over to get a better look, not daring to touch the holy object that felt tainted with darkness.

‘Was this how you imagined it?’

There was no name nor did you recognize the handwriting but you knew for certain this had come from Mr. Langdon. The smallest amount of heat tickled at the back of your neck.

You laid down, unsure how to react, still unwilling to touch or even close the book. Your skin prickling as though it could sense the heavy feeling of dread in the air.

Once you finally succumbed to an uneasy slumber, you dreamt of the bombs.

Sirens wailed from above as you trekked across an endless forest. Calling for help, voice hoarse as none came. The land turned barren with every step, an ashen land of death. Each moment, the sirens twisted more and more into tormented wails. A torrent of winds coming from each direction, bitter and sharp as knives against your skin.

With a pain in your chest that you could only describe as your heart being torn out piece by piece, you finally crumbled - broken and unable to continue. Weak and unwilling to fight any longer. You looked to the sky to beg for mercy when you saw an open door, its glowing insides the halls of the sanctuary promised to you. As you ran with energy anew, the sultry voice you heard was like a holy instrument carrying through the air.

Mr. Langdon came into vision, still blurred around the edges, you were unable to see him wholly. His forehead and golden locks bloodied from the thorns that encircled his head. One hand extended to you, another behind his back, his words coming to you clearly now as the thorns twisted into sharp horns.

Let me save you.

As you reached out your hand to his, the light faded from behind him, instead bringing forward his hidden hand that held a beating, bloody heart. Its steady tempo drowning out his plea as you felt a seeping emptiness consume your chest.

You woke with a start, body drenched in sweat as if you had been hugged by the sun itself. Your mind spun, consumed with a single thought - if the dream had progressed, would you hesitate to take his hand, despite what he had turned into before your eyes?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your heart was beating so fast you barely heard a word Venable was sprouting, only snippets of sounds came through between the coursing blood that filled your ears.

Your mouth was practically watering at the sweet smell, the feel of the smooth skin in your hands, the taste you knew would be yours if you only took a bite of the shiny red treasure held within the palm of your hand.

But that voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you, back away into the shadows slowly and whatever you do, do NOT eat the forbidden fruit. It will bring no knowledge, only suffering and agony beyond compare.

Something even further hidden away is telling you to run. Run as fast and as far as you can from this evil place and never, ever look back.

You hear Mr. Langdon’s words over and over in your mind. So powerful, you can almost feel his breath tickling your ear once more, his enticing warmth overtaking your body.

‘Remember, heed the warning of Snow White...

Never trust witches or beautiful apples.’

In what felt like the final step of a test, you decided to pause before sinking your teeth into the apple alongside all the other residents and instead slowly backed into the shadows of the hallway toward the kitchen.

The silence hung in the air, and you were a moment away from turning around when you heard a cough, then another and another, the sounds of shared agonized death building in a crescendo confirmed your fears.

It confirmed that Mr. Langdon somehow knew. And if he knew... why didn’t he stop it?

A thought ran through your head, a darker one biting at its heels, so fast you were unsure it was your own.

Why didn’t I?

...Because they deserved it

You desperately shook your head to rid yourself of the thought and suddenly realized the truth with resolute finality. There was no where to go. No where to run. No one to run to. No matter where you fled, it would be a dead end. Even if you escaped this cave, you would only be thrust into another wasteland, wandering the purgatory above.

You found yourself in the kitchen, unaware your feet had even brought you there. In what seemed to be a final act of mercy, or perhaps penance, you spotted a large butcher knife hanging on the wall.

The metal held tightly in your hand felt like an extension of your body from your place in the corner of the darkened pantry. You had locked yourself in, backed yourself into a corner. But where was there to run - truly, to escape to?

A desperate prayer silently fell from your lips. Not for peace nor forgiveness. But for Mr. Langdon’s capsule of pain free salvation.

Nonetheless, you figure even a knife to the heart would be better than suffering the death forced upon the other residents. At the first sound or sign the killers have noticed your absence, you’ll take yourself out. Death was no longer fearful. It was the undeniable ending you had accepted many months ago.

The sounds of steady steps broke through your contemplation. Your hand stilled as you raised the blade above your chest. Your body was unable to move for some unknown reason even though everything inside you begged you to move already.

This was the end.

Accept it.

Instead, all you could focus on are the sounds of the footfalls. Light but purposeful. Steady and strong, unlike Venable’s wavering trio of steps.

Calm, almost casual. As if they were taking a stroll in a park or admiring paintings in a museum. Unlike the rushed, quick steps of an always determined Ms. Mead.

As your mind caught up with what your heart and instincts knew, a smooth voice broke the silence, its undeniable comfort charging your body with its light.

“You can come out now, Princess.”

You looked up, a mixture of wet and dried tears on your cheeks, and saw a magnificent sight.

There was your savior, a circle of candlelight cradled his golden locks and danced around like a halo on fire. Tears sprung from your eyes once more. Not out of fear, but out of pure awe and admiration.

The knife fell with a loud echoing clang in the now empty stone halls. You could only stare on as Mr. Langdon shifted to lower himself to you.

He brought his right hand from behind his back, and extended it to you.

Without hesitation, this time, you accepted it.

You accepted Him.

#michael langdon x reader #Langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x you #Michael Langdon reader insert #micheal Langdon fic #ahs fic #ahs apocalypse #lmao welp this next tag gonna be displayed at my death #antichrist x reader #🥴🥴🥴#tw: death #tw: character death #tw: violence #tw: blasphemy #tw: nightmares #tw: mental manipulation #Michael Langdon x reader #dark fic #tw: blood

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death-fears-by-deaf-ears · 3 years

Text

swan lake || t.h.

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: you can't stand tom holland, the guy in your ballet ensemble. But when you two get the roles of Odette and the prince, you two will have to put your differences aside and learn to work with each other.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: language

chapter one

Not again.

This was starting to become a recurring theme - it was Monday and your bus had just left without you. You mumbled profanities under your breath, your duffle bag slung across your shoulder. Frustrated you slumped against a street lantern, when you felt the first drops of rain on your skin. You let out a groan of anger and pulled your hood up over your head, cursing yourself for staying up too late last night. But because you anticipated this, you had already put on your leotard and tights on at home, so when you got to class you’d only have to strip your clothes and start your warm up.

Last week you had gotten whacked on the head with a newspaper for being that late, but with a little bit of luck you wouldn’t have to endure that today.

When you arrived in the ballet studio almost an hour later you were soaked and freezing. You ran through the halls of the studio, already in the process of taking off your jacket and shirt, revealing your dancing clothes underneath. Three minutes left to go.

Your usual locker was already occupied, making you rush to the next best one, ripping the door open, throwing all your clothes in there and only taking your training ballerinas out and slamming the door shut. You had done your hair in the bus already, so it was in a low tight knot. You put your shoes on, running toward the door. One minute left.

“How kind of you to join us today on time,” Sophie, your dance teacher said, following you with her eyes as you took your position. Everyone in the room was staring at you and you could feel their looks drilling in your back. Tom next to you was bowing his head down, obviously trying to hide his laughter. You shot him a poisonous look, rage as well as embarrassment burned inside you. Tom had a special power of making your anger levels go from 0 to 100.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you said, your face running hot.

“Let’s start with the warm up, shall we?”

“Why is everyone whispering and staring at me,” you whispered through gritted teeth to your friend Hannah, who was helping you stretch. “Ouch!”

“Loosen up,” Hannah whispered, pulling you even closer to her. You were sitting in front of each other on the floor, pushing the others’ legs out. “Haven’t you seen the role sheet today?”

“Fuck,” you whispered, partially because of the stretch, but also because you had forgotten that today the roles for the upcoming show were published. You must’ve not seen the sheet in the locker rooms. “What role did I get?”

Hannah shook her head as you pulled her towards you, adjusting her pose. “You got the role of Odette.”

You immediately let go of Hannah, slapping your hand on your mouth, making her fall forward. You grabbed her shoulders. “I got the main role?” You whisper-screamed, trying your hardest not to get caught by Sophie. “Well, who is playing the prince?”

Hannah cringed and turned her gaze to the side, where a few of your colleagues were standing. Instead of stretching they were very obviously flirting with… Tom. He must’ve noticed you staring at him, as he turned his head and met your gaze. Both of you rolled your eyes as you turned away from each other. “You can’t be serious,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah huffed, sweat pearling on her dark forehead. “But hey, congrats on the role?”

You finished stretching and continued with your training, going through forms and positions, polishing your moves and getting scolded for flailing your arms too much. As you were approaching your first break, Sophie stepped towards you.

“We will begin with your training for Swan Lake today at 3, make sure to bring your pointe shoes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, your heart fluttering at the idea of dancing to your favourite show. The fluttering quickly vanished when you noticed Sophie walking up towards Tom, telling him the same. So you’d already dance with him today.

You tried to shake the bad feeling and it mostly worked, since focusing on your dream always made things easier. Dancing and performing was a way for you to let go, to get completely lost in the story and think about nothing else. There wasn’t much in the world that could ruin that for you.

Oh how wrong you had been.

“I have never seen people with less chemistry than you two,” Sophie sighed. You have never heard her be this exasperated and desperate. “Do you two even dance? Are you really professional dancers? Where did your grace go, where did the love for dance go! Look each other in the eyes for God’s sake!”

“It’d be easier if you didn’t squeeze the hell out of me,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“It’d be easier if you weren’t this heavy,” Tom spat back, his face falling immediately after he realized what he had said.

You jumped out of his grip, staring in disbelief. “Well-” you stammered, not knowing what to retort. “How about you get a little stronger…”

Sophie whacked him with her newspaper over the head. “That is NOT something you say to a lady!” Tiny strands of hair were escaping her neat bun, making her look even more stressed than she was. “We’re finishing this part today and then you two can go home.”

“Sorry,” Tom mumbled under his breath.

“Save it,” you said, taking your start position. Kneeling down on the floor, Odette would wait for the prince to come and lift her up to start the dance with her. In the original the two would fall in love the minute they laid eyes on each other. You tried to do the choreography justice, although your dance partner made it incredibly difficult for you.

“Smile!” Sophie shouted, making you two put on fake plastic grins.

“I’ll spit on your face on stage,” you said through your grin as Tom lifted you up, making you look down on him.

"Do that and I'll rip your lashes off," he said softly while lowering you on the ground again.

You tried to continue the choreography without any incidents but you couldn't help but feel every step, every nudge to be executed with a hint of passive aggression. Tom basically let you fall on the ground instead of putting you down, you avoided each other's eyes, grabbed too harshly, turned too sharply.

"Alright," Sophie said after about four hours of it. "I can't watch this any longer. You both know the choreography, and that's all I can teach you for now. If you don't know how to be nice to each other, don't bother coming to me for help until you do. We'll work on the solos and the other dances first, until you two calmed down. Dismissed."

You slumped down on the floor, rubbing your face. You untied your shoes and took them off, throwing them in your bag. This was going to be hard.

“So how was it?” Hannah asked while the two of you sat on the studio floor.

As an answer you slammed your pointe shoes on the ground several times, breaking them in a way that made them comfortable for your foot. “Take a wild guess.”

She raised her eyebrows as she was sewing the elastic band into her shoe. “What did Sophie say?”

“She refuses to work with us anymore until we get it together,” you grumbled. You slammed your fist on the top of your shoe, softening the box. Suddenly the door opened, making you and Hannah turn your heads.

Tom was marching in the room, directly towards you.

“What the hell,” you mumbled, putting your shoe down and looking up at him as he stopped in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“Are you free today after class?”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him up and down and smirked. “Are you asking me out?”

Tom crossed his arms, not saying anything. His foot was tapping impatiently on the floor which was tiled with dancing tiles.

“Yeah, I am. See you then,” you said, rolling your eyes. You waved as a good bye, signalling him to leave you alone. You turned to Hannah. “He told me I was too heavy to lift.” “Excuse me?” You shrugged, taking the thread and the needle. Your friend slapped her hands on her thighs in exasperation. “What an ass.”

You finished sewing and breaking in your shoes while talking about anything other than Tom - mostly Hannah’s new date she was going to see that very day. It was nice talking about something else, preparing yourself for class. You could feel that today was going to be a slow one - you eased into your shoes, then into your stretches, and finally into your training, testing out the waters with your new footwear and getting more comfortable as the day progressed. Your mind was empty, completely free of oppressive and depressing thoughts. Your body moved in unison with the music, following the tides of the melody, back and forth seemingly weightless and freed of gravity.

Before you knew it afternoon rolled around and class finished. You packed your stuff, and settled down in the locker room to have some lunch and lie down, coming down from your training.

As always your lunch break went by way too fast. You stood up, shaking your limbs and grabbing your things to go back to the now empty studio. Tom was nowhere to be found, so you warmed quickly up on your own. Your body had cooled down a bit, and you didn’t want to pull a muscle or something, so you did a few squats, jumping jacks and push ups to get moving again. You took your position at the railing in front of the mirror, practicing positions and movements, taking your sweet time. The clock ticked in the back of the room, showing 3.16pm. Where the hell was Tom?

At that moment the door swung open.

“Took you long enough,” you said in an arabesque pose.

“Sorry,” he said, getting in and throwing his duffle bag in the corner of the room.

You put your foot down, looking at him properly. You raised your eyebrows at his childish demeanor. You were already annoyed by him. “Bad day?”

He plonked down on the floor and began to put on his shoes. “I just want this day to be over.”

“Well then cheer up, do you expect me to dance with an energy as bad as yours?”

He looked at you incredulously. “Can’t I be in a bad mood? Do I have to be all sunshine and daisies all the time?” His voice rose now, making you back away a little, but you weren’t having none of that. You had an idea.

“I just said to lose the fucking attitude,” you said, getting louder now as well.

“What if i don’t want to?! God, you’re annoying!”

You took a deep breath putting force in your voice. “Then scream it out, because I don’t want to deal with this!” His hands turned into fists, his eyes lighting up a tiny little bit at the memory your words just triggered. But he was still angry. “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck YOU!”

And without a cue you two just started wordlessly screaming in the other’s face, a prolonged and agonizing scream, throwing it all out. Dancing didn’t require vocal chords, so you had no qualms absolutely shredding yours. You didn’t know if anyone else was in the building, but you didn’t care.

As you two ran out of breath your shoulders slumped, moving heavily up and down as you gasped for air. The room was awfully quiet except for your breathing. Your bodies seemed to mirror each other, more in sync than when you tried to be. Destruction seemed to be more constructive to the relationship between you two than anything else.

You swallowed, standing up straight. “Can we start now?”

Again you were on the floor, folded over in your starting position. You had decided to train without music, so you jumped a little as Tom’s hands touched your wrists, softer than usual. He lifted you up off the floor, placing his hands on your waist. This dance wasn’t particularly difficult or demanding, but for it to work you need a prince who guides Odette just enough without gripping her too tight, and an Odette who knows how much to rely on the prince and how much on herself. There were a few hang ups here and there, but you danced through the whole routine without saying anything once, enjoying the flow of your movements. The dance was still clinical, mostly about getting the order of the moves right. It ended with Tom lifting you up, and slowly lowering you down, and bringing your faces together, hinting at a kiss between you two. You still needed to work on that part.

“So,” he said as you jumped away as the dance ended. “With music this time?”

You nodded. “Maybe don’t grip me this tight when I do the pirouettes,” you said. You took a sip of water and put the bottle away. “I can basically do them on my own, just give me a quick spin and I’ll be able to do them faster.”

“Alright,” he said, getting into position. “But try to do your moves independently from me. It’ll make them look better.”

You folded over on the floor and waited for the music to start. When it started you closed your eyes for a second anticipating the touch on your wrists. Still it sent a jolt through you. “Softer,” you said as you did your pirouette, and the grip on your waist turned to a fleeting touch every few moments, accelerating your turns.

“Lean in properly,” Tom said as you leaned in his hands to the side to lift your leg. You did as told and managed to lift your leg even higher and with less effort. He lifted you by the waist, brows furrowed the slightest in concentration, turning in a circle. Your hands rested on his shoulders, eyes trained on him. You wondered if Odette really fell in love with the prince on sight.

The routine went smoother with each time you tried it, your movements dynamic and easy like a well oiled machine.

After a while you decided to call it a day, and after you awkwardly said your goodbyes, you went home. Suddenly you didn’t know how to act around him, everything you did felt clumsy and weird. You were used to being annoyed by him and just being generally mad at him. But now that you had to cooperate and put those things aside, what was left?

a.n.: this is the first chapter of maybe two or three, lmk what you think! this is the first time i post to tungle, be kind lmfao

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland fandom #mcufam #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 7.4

Author’s Note: I believe I’ll be doing a LIVE pulling for Xiao tonight around 7:45 PST. Join me if you want to see me cry from happiness or from not pulling him LOL. The link is in one of my previous posts. Before, during, or after this chapter, listen to this song to get a feel of what’s happening! https://youtu.be/ifQ3JRS4gqc

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The voices never truly left you alone after that. You were practically becoming unhinged by the endless whispers that plagued your ears, and the quiet of night only seemed to egg them on further. When you were blessed with their silence, you were plagued the physical pains of the karmic debt and your depression from joining the harbingers. Childe was obviously growing more and more concerned with each passing day; you were beginning to freak him out. The Tsaritsa and the other harbingers, however, found great amusement in your...condition. It was a blessing in disguise; they were manipulating you much easier now that you were exhausted from the sleepless nights.

And it wasn't like you were constantly needing medical care, though you wished they would give you some heavy pain killers. No; whatever damage your body was burdened with would be repaired by morning thanks to Xiao's blood. The pain wasn't nearly as dramatic as the first wave, but it was a constant dull aching that ate away at your bones. Slowly but surely, the pains grew over time.

Xiao made his presence known to you only twice more; he showed himself in the late evenings for brief periods of time to quell your aching heart and mind. At least when he was able to be with you, the dreadful screams would disperse if only temporarily. At least when he was with you, you were granted sleep. Small waves of peace would reclaim you as Xiao watched over your sleeping figure.

But once Liyue's festivities were underway, Xiao's visits became nonexistent and your mind was once again thrown into deeper chaos while he fought off more demons. It was the busiest time of the year for both the inhabitants and the demonic presences of Liyue; it was Xiao's task to fend the latter off since the festivities attracted their attention and strengthened their presence. He felt you slowly shattering, and it hurt him to know he couldn't be with you as often as he wanted to.

One day out of the blue, over a month after you joined the Fatui, Childe approached you with a grand smile across his face. "Ojou-chan! Why don't I show you around Snezhnaya? It's much better than sitting in your room all day."

"...Aren't you always saying we could freeze to death?" Your unamused expression failed to hinder Childe's enthusiasm. "Why would I want to go outside?" The bags under your eyes spoke volumes about your continuous sleepless nights.

"Come on, Mezzetin, it'll be good for you. You could use the exercise."

"Are you implying something?" You're eyes narrowed dangerously, but Childe's grin only widened when your normal quips shone through your broken character.

"Well, if you ever feel the need to put me in my place, I'm more than willing to oblige to a fight," he watched your expression lighten for a moment before urging you. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Sheer cold wasn't an issue for this winter wasteland like it was on Dragonspine, but it had to be at least five times colder here. Childe made sure you were bundled up in a large furry coat before guiding you out of the castle and leading you to a town square that was surprisingly bustling with people despite the frigid temperatures. Stalls lined the streets. People gathered around to buy the freshest local food that included some incredibly large seafood varieties. Others were in line to buy trinkets, house decor, and a variety of other items.

"...A farmer's market?" Your cold breath of a remark caught Childe's attention, and he turned to you.

"Of course! Go ahead and look around. If there's anything you want, I'll buy it for you."

He's trying to cheer me up? You examined Childe's earnest demeanor as he eyed the fish stall with stars in his eyes. Can he just pick a side already?! You rolled your eyes. Still, might as well bankrupt him if he insists. You broke away from him and continued down the rows of stalls for awhile, unaware that the harbinger had rejoined you.

You were busy examining a few intriguing necklaces made of materials you haven't heard of when the whispers of the damned regained their voices. You staggered a bit only to be steadied by Childe's hand on your shoulder.

Childe noted your glowing eyes. "Happening again?" His genuine concern made you relieved that he wasn't a complete monster like the other harbingers. "If you need a break, there's a café over there that we can sit in." Your strained nod prompted him to guide you with a hand at the back of your shoulders.

"Hm?" A strange sound reached your ears, and this time it wasn't from inside your head. Your feet came to a halt before the two of you reached the building, and you tilted your head towards the sound.

It was a light and effortless tune that floated through the open air from yet another building. The melody was slow to build, yet you hung onto its every note. It took you a moment to realize that it calmed the demonic voices from screams to hushed murmurs. You followed the path of the sounds until you found yourself in an extremely outdated music shop.

"Mezzetin?" Childe attempted to regain your attention as he followed after you. He caught onto the childlike wonder glistening in your teary eyes. "Care to explain?"

"The pain..." a tear fell. "It's subsiding." You continued to stare at the harpist that played her tune at the back of the shop, eyes never leaving the fingers that plucked the strings. The voices were gone, and now you were only overwhelmed with a sense of peace.

Childe watched you silently listen to the music for a long while. An idea struck him. "Have you ever played?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daze and wiped the tears away. "Um...Granny used to play a lot when I was little. I know a couple tunes, but--" Childe walked to the shop owner without letting you finish, pulling out a large sack of mora while he was at it. "H-hey! What're you doing?"

"If it brings you happiness, then I don't see the problem in buying it," Childe argued back after he had purchased the most expensive harp in the shop and left a considerate tip. The two of you were walking back to the palace now. He had ordered for his subordinates to take the instrument back with them.

"But I haven't played in years! And I said I only knew a few simple tunes--"

"--Then I will ensure you receive lessons." He was not going to budge on this, and he made it obvious with his firm gaze. "The rest of the harbingers made it clear that they do not care for your wellbeing, but I do. Think of this as a gift and a type of therapy. You've been down ever since Xiao left you--"

"I left him," you corrected. And I so regret my decision.

"I'm just trying to prove that you aren't in a prison anymore. If you want to see it as that, then by all means, continue to be depressed. But something tells me you want to see Xiao again and find a way with him, no?"

"...Right."

"Then at the very least accept my apology gift to you."

"Huh? Apology?" You gave him a questioning look, but he either didn't hear you or elected to ignore you.

......................................

Xiao was being as antisocial as ever, but it's not like he would ever turn down an invitation for tea from Rex Lapis himself. Here he was, sitting just outside of Wangshu Inn with his master in the bright of day. Aether probably put the archon up to the task considering how Xiao pushed him away what felt like ages ago, but the yaksha decided to give Zhongli the time of day only because of his deep respect for his savior.

"I've also brought more pain killers," Zhongli handed the yaksha a small jar of other-worldly medicines as he continued to fill him in on the upcoming Lantern Rite. He had yet to bring you into the conversation, most likely to avoid irritating the throbbing wound in Xiao's chest.

"Mm." Xiao gladly accepted the medication and set it aside. This ensured yet another lull in their conversations.

"Will you go this year?" Zhongli sipped at his tea. "To the Lantern Rite?"

"My presence would only hinder the festival. Besides, I'm not great with crowds." The yaksha had yet to meet the archon's eyes, and kept his gaze firm on the teacup in front of him. Truth be told, he would have gone this year...with you, since it was you who had asked him. But now that these circumstances have come to pass, why should he go? "It's just another excuse for humans to discard their trash into the ocean." Why should he go when it would only remind him of his failure to keep you at his side?

Zhongli narrowed his eyes as he pondered whether words of comfort would aid his yaksha. "It would be good for you to experience something new after all your years of living."

"I already have," Xiao clenched his jaw, signaling that the topic was beginning to walk on thin ice. "She--"

"--Is not dead," Zhongli reminded. "Do not mourn for a loss that has not occurred."

"But she's dying," he argued back, finally releasing the emotions he's pent up ever since they left you. Zhongli's look of confusion prompted him to continue. "She can feel the karmic debt bestowed upon me."

"When did this begin?" The archon's usual reserved composure faltered slightly while his eyes widened.

"A month ago. I visited her; she can hear the voices of the damned. She's been in physical and mental pain ever since."

"The bond..." Zhongli set his teacup down a bit abruptly as he thought to himself. "It appears these side effects grow stronger in the other's absence. How intriguing..."

"How do we discard them? Is there a way?"

"Have you not interpreted my words in Qingce Village all along? Or my words at the Dawn Winery? I've already given you the means to act, Xiao."

--Can feel your emotions...emotions cannot be permanently ignored...fall on deaf ears...early grave... Xiao scoffed and downed the rest of his tea before forcefully setting the cup back down onto the table. "You think admitting my alleged feelings for a mortal human would solve the problem?"

"She's done her part, now it is your turn," he straightened. "If you fail to do so, I fear she will perish from your karmic debt in no time at all. If what you say is true, it's a miracle she's still alive. Your admittance would seal the bond, as it would eliminate the side effects altogether."

Xiao's head whipped in the direction of the playing of an instrument note, but was only greeted with the joyful screams of children running around nearby. "Tch. How annoying," he played his mishearing off and returned to his normal sitting position. Another sound reached his ears, but he neglected to react to it. The notes are off.

Zhongli didn't question Xiao's sudden alertness, but that didn't take away from the fact that yet another side effect has revealed itself to the archon. It appeared as though the yaksha was already aware of this side effect.

And man, did this one annoy Xiao the most. He heard the most random of tunes and chords at the most random of times. It would even jolt him awake when he managed to fall asleep on rare nights. It wasn't all unpleasant though; there were times in which the melody struck all the right notes and the result was a beautiful thirty second song before it was gloriously ruined by the musician's hesitance or embarrassment.

He knew it was you. Your constant need to practice was as pestering as your old daily prayers before he revealed to you that he could hear them. At least he only sometimes heard the plucking of strings. As pesky and invasive as it was, your insistence upon playing what Xiao only assumed was a lyre somehow brought a bit of joy to his heart. It meant that you were doing better than the last time he saw you.

He just wished he could hear the end result and not your sloppy practice sessions.

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Only on the eve of the Lantern Rite, several days before the celebration, did he come to appreciate the hours of hard work you were putting into practicing the music.

You had locked yourself in your room again after watching the failed experiments Dottore had forced you to witness. How many did you see die today? Fifty? He clearly needed to adjust the ratio of your blood to whatever else he had in that serum he developed. What was worse was that you were beginning to become desensitized to the loss of human life; amused by it, even. Just as the Tsaritsa wanted. Sometime into the fortieth treatment, your pains grew stronger as did the voices of the slain daemons.

You retreated to your room, relieved that Childe had for once allowed you to be without his presence. You sat yourself next to the window and allowed for the evening light to illuminate the music sheets the harbinger had bought for you. Your fingers grazed lightly over the strings as the voices continued to grow louder, absently plucking one of them to ensure that you still had full control over your slightly twitching limbs. You had nearly snapped the strings last time the voices overwhelmed you--

There's no time nor need to reminisce those incidents. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and began to play, the smooth vibrations of the harp humming against your chest and shoulder as the strings were struck. Unlike your practice sessions, your hands glided over the strings from one position to the next like you had played for a thousand years. No hesitation could be felt from the chords. Finally, it seemed as though you mastered this song.

Xiao. I miss you...your warmth...your embrace... Your infested thoughts soon cleared as your mind drifted to an image of him. I wonder if he too finds comfort in music when the voices overwhelm him? For you knew that when the voices grew louder, he too, was subject to them. The music overcame the screaming daemons, and you were relieved with a sense of peace. Your fingers continued to play through the music and repeated the song for as many times as you felt fit. Your aching limbs continued to throb, but you didn't let that stop you from playing. Your mind now clear as water, you poured your longing for Xiao into your music. You hummed the melody as you played.

One day you'll find your way back to him, or him to you. Was it okay to allow yourself to believe in the possibility that he held the same feelings for you? Did he love you? No--Could he? It was already naïve enough to think he was capable of harboring such intimate feelings after living through hell for over two thousand years. And even if he did, it's not like you'd live as long as he has. Would he push me away again? You shoved that thought out of your mind with another series of chords.

You wouldn't be able to put an end to your feelings no matter what he did. He was too admirable, too strong, too strict, too beautiful. He was too kind, even if he put up a front. You loved him too much; perhaps that would end in your own downfall just as Childe predicted and beat into your head every day, but that was alright with you. If the voices were to eat away at you until all that remained were ashes, you were okay with being true to yourself until the very end. Even if he never thought of you as something more than a companion. And as you thought of him, the longing to be reunited swelled within your chest and overflowed into your fingers.

Your song was your unspoken prayer, your love and dedication were your offerings.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #xiao fanfiction #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao

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anonymous-tals · 3 years

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Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me. Time to write fanfiction, I guess!

TW: Eating Disorders. If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning. There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.

This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this). Eating disorders are not cute or quirky. They are serious illnesses that lead to death. If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery. Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.

National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237

One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin! I hope the writing isn’t trash. If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them. I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):

Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights. He looked around the room, confused as to where he was. After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room. There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book. Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did. The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.

“Oh! You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.

“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.

“You’re in the hospital, sir.” Brad looked around the room. The walls were a cool green. Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used. There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet. Brown cupboards lined the walls. He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.

“What the hell happened?”, he thought. The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy. Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.

“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.” A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight. Someone else was going to see what he weighed. His thoughts were racing.

“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought. He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room. He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets. Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up. Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter. The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it. The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’. Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card. “I can’t believe you are in the hospital! You appeared so healthy. Get well, soon, motu.”

“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway. He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed. The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book. “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today. Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.

“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.

“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding. “...Ian Grimm? Does that name sound familiar?”

“Yes, he’s my boss.” Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken. Memories from the day previous began to surface.

“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.” Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.

“Oh...yah. I remember that.”

“Yes, well, you got a concussion. Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”

“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.

“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that. Come with me.” Brad followed Amanda out into the hall. They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy. There was something surreal about it. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off. “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door. Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings. It looked like a typical room for check-ups. Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file. “Ok, let’s do your vitals. I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!” She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood. “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.” Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure. “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly. Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”

“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.

“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi. Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.

“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.

“Well…”, she hesitated. “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here. Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy. Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”

“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder? I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”

“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story. Now, please, let’s go through the questions.” The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.

“Ok, time for weight and height.” Brad's heart quickened.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m going to have you turn around. You won’t even see it!” He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.

“You fat idiot. If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now. You wouldn’t even be here, I bet! You fat, stupid, fatty-”

“Ok, you can step off!” The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale. Ok, let’s do your height.

She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.

“Ok. So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi. Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”

“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.

“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information. I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder! Sorry, I care about my health! I thought losing weight was a good thing!” The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.

“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days. You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.” Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.

“Fine, whatever. My decision won’t change, though!”

They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed. He stared at the tv. It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower. His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.

“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything. I’m too fat. I need to be thinner. I’m not even that bad. I need to be that bad, though.” Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks. Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.

“Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.

“Nice to see you too, Brad.” Brad rolled his eyes in response. “The office was really worried about you! You sure took a tumble. Anyways, here’s a balloon! And a gift! Courtesy of your friends at the office!”

“Interesting. I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.

“What do you want me to say, then? Huh? Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?” Brad looked away, not responding. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.

“Listen, David. I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”

“Pshh, you don’t care about me. You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being. So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok? No one does.” His emotions were slipping through. He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Come on, Brad. Of course people care about you! Your brother for example! He’s a great guy! He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?” Brad sat still, not responding. “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.

“Shut up!” Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince. “My brother is a horrible person. He has gone out of his way to ruin my life. In fact, he is ruining my life right now.” His voice cracked as a tear broke through.

“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave, ok? Please just leave.” Brad’s heart began to beat faster. “You idiot.”, he thought. “You let him see that you’re weak. You are weak. You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.” His breathing was getting quicker and quicker. The room started to spin. It felt like everything was happening all at once. Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David. Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out. “In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. In, 2-” Slowly Brad began to calm down. He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them. “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back. Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face. He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired. They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence. “Well, I have to go but I-”

“Stay. Please.” Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.

“I...I guess I could stay.” David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier. They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV. “Are you good with me putting something on?” Brad stayed quiet. “I’ll take that as a yes!” He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.

…

They sat there for a while. Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day. Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better. Not better at one specific thing. Just better in general. Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.

“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door. Just before he left, Brad spoke.

“Thank you...for staying and all.” He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.

“Of course, man. It’s no big deal!” There was a pause before Brad spoke again.

“They want me to do an inpatient program.”

“Oh? For…” David trailed off.

“Yah…” Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed. “I don’t know what to do. Whether I should go or not.”

“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him. Brad was silent.

“...Thanks, David.”

David gave a small wave as he walked out the door. Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep. He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door. A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room. “Would you like to order dinner?” Brad shook his head and the nurse left. He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought. He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top. Inside there was a pig plush and a card. The plushy was adorable and very soft. He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card. It was your typical get better soon card. On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone. It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea. Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed. He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.

#brad bakshi #brad bakshi fanfic #is this cringey? i can't tell.#mythic quest fanfic #mythic quest

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cosmicjoke · 3 years

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Alright, chapter 133 of SnK!

I’ve got a few things I want to talk about here.

One of the things that always strikes me about Levi as a character, indeed, one of his defining character traits, is his coolness under pressure. His calm demeanor, no matter the circumstances. One of the interesting things to go into is WHY Levi is like this.

We see it particularly exemplified in this chapter, I think, and there’s a few examples. For one, they’ve all just lost Hange as their friend and Commander, and this loss particularly impacts and affects Levi, since he was closer with Hange than any of them. But rather than allowing his grief to consume and paralyze him, Levi immediately begins trying to contribute when Armin says he wants to go over the plan, bringing up Hange’s theory about Zeke and how killing him might stop the Rumbling, etc... Then Eren transports them to Paths, and everyone reacts with shock and awe, except Levi, who’s expression is duly unimpressed and unsurprised. We see this from Levi throughout the series, of course. Situations that present themselves, new and frightening circumstances which throw everyone for a loop and send people into panic, Levi reacts to with calm collectedness, a distinct LACK of surprise or fear. He really does stand in sharp contrast with everyone else in this situation. Everyone there is a seasoned war veteran, at this point, they’ve all been through and seen some truly horrific things. But they still react with a kind of frantic uncertainty here. They then begin to plead with Eren, Armin and the rest trying to convince him through any means possible, to stop the Rumbling. They try to bargain with him, show him empathy, make promises, etc... They make their desperation obvious by saying whatever they think will appeal to Eren. Levi is the only one who, I think, is fully honest here. He tells Eren that if he stops now, he’ll let him off with JUST an ass-kicking. Levi doesn’t try to placate Eren, or show him sympathy, or empathy, he doesn’t try to be gentle or handle Eren with kid gloves. He tells him flat out he’s going to beat his ass for what he’s done, but he’ll show him some leniency for stopping by not killing him outright. The thing is, I think Levi’s known from the start of this whole disaster that talking to Eren wasn’t going to work. Everyone else was holding out hope that if they could just speak with Eren, he would stop, that they could convince him through words. But like I talked about in my last post, Levi is someone who’s just seen and experienced too much of life’s brutality and unfairness to blind himself to bleak reality. When the 104th goes running off after Eren appears to them, to try and reach him, Levi just sits down in the sand and has that resigned expression once more, and his expression continues to show a total lack of surprise when Eren puts the 104th back where they started, before they could ever even get close. Levi isn’t surprised, or even dismayed, I don’t think, at Eren’s refusal to talk, because I think he always knew he wouldn’t be willing to. That he wouldn’t be interested in hearing anyone’s pleas or promises. I think Levi always knew Eren was hellbent on this course of action, and it was more or less hopeless, trying to appeal to him. And once again, I have to restate, I think it’s because Levi’s just experienced too much hardship in his life to cling to false hopes. He’s world-weary and in many ways a realist, someone not given to delusion or fancy.

I feel like Levi probably glimpsed this uncompromising, hellish bent in Eren back in Liberio, his mercenary compulsion to follow through on whatever plan he had, which is why Levi was so disgusted by him on the airship back then. He saw a lack of mercy in Eren, and it reminded him of the brutes Levi grew up with in the Underground. Not just a willingness, but a desire to take from others to satisfy himself. It’s why, when they’re all transported back to the plane, while everyone else looks horrified and in shock at Eren’s refusal to talk, Levi looks as unflustered as ever, and states with a matter of fact tone that negotiations are over, before asking Armin what it is they do now. None of this is surprising to Levi.

Levi’s look of despair throughout this final arc continues to strike me as his resignation in the ugliness of humanity and the useless, pointless suffering they inflict on one another. He’s depressed, and disappointed, because everything happening around them is only a confirmation of all the worst things Levi saw and experienced, growing up.

All this ties into another point I want to discuss, which is Levi’s relationship with Jean, actually. I’ve found the relationship between the two of them really interesting since way back in the Uprising arc, when Jean was the most vocal in condemning Levi for his violence, declaring with certainty that he would never kill another person. Jean is disabused of his moralistic superiority not long after that, when he learns first hand the consequences of sticking to ones morals uncompromisingly, nearly losing his life, and forcing Armin to take a life for him. And it’s Jean who we see, again and again from that point on in the series, grappling with and coming to terms with this difficult lesson. We see Jean’s respect for Levi, and his understanding towards Levi, grow greatly, after this incident, and Jean himself having to grow, to change and accept that sacrifices are inevitable if one wishes to protect the things and people they care about. That sometimes even one’s own comfort and moral convictions are necessary sacrifices to achieve those things.

Levi tells everyone that he’ll take care of Zeke, but admits that he’ll need all of their help to get the job done. I feel like this is Levi, once again, asking if all of them are ready and willing to get their hands dirty, just like he did before they raided the Cavern underneath the Church on the Reiss property. He knows he can’t do this job by himself (which is just further testament to Levi’s strength of character, an ability to admit to weakness), but he wants to make sure everyone else is alright with plunging in to a situation in which they’re going to be forced to kill. Jean is the first to answer, telling Levi and all of them that he’s not going to let the sacrifices they’ve already made, the people they’ve killed in order to get where they are, be in vain, and that he’ll do whatever it takes to stop the Rumbling. This shows incredible character growth on Jean’s part. He went from someone who claimed that he would, under no circumstances, take another human life, to someone who declares that he’ll do whatever it takes in order to stop the Rumbling, to achieve a greater good. And I think this growth on Jean’s part ties directly into his relationship with and the influence of Levi. Levi never judged Jean for being uncomfortable with killing, never criticized or scolded him for it. He even told Jean that he couldn’t say, one way or the other whether Jean’s beliefs were right or wrong. That Levi himself didn’t know the answer to that. He never tried to convince Jean of anything. He just told him the truth. That his failure to kill had put the lives of his comrades in danger, including his own, and that it also caused Armin to have to bear the burden of killing another, one which should have been Jean’s own to bear. All of that is absolutely true. And it was really through this lack of judgment on Levi’s part that, I think, Jean was able to grow and expand his own views on killing, and adjust and allow for there to be circumstances in his world view which would justify taking another life. He wasn’t forced by anyone to change his views. He changed them based on experience and through Levi explaining to him that there is no definitive right or wrong answer to be found, and through Levi’s simply being honest with him. He was telling Jean that it comes down to what one is willing to sacrifice in order to protect the things and people they value. And Jean learned about himself that he’s willing and able to sacrifice more than he ever realized.

But it’s still a struggle, and something all of them, even at this point in the story, continue to battle themselves over. We see Connie struggling in particular this chapter, looking anguished over what he had to do back at the port. It’s only Levi who accepts that brutal reality of kill or be killed with a calm understanding, and I think this is probably because, unlike the rest of them, who all had peaceful, probably relatively easy and happy childhoods, without any exposure to violence or real cruelty, Levi, I think it can be safely assumed, probably took his first life while he was still a boy. And doubtless, that was due to desperate circumstances. Levi’s life has been one filled with uncertainty. Growing up in extreme poverty, he never could have known with any certainty where his next meal would come from, or when. Never knew with any certainty whether he could find proper shelter for the night, or a safe place to sleep. Never knew with any certainty whether he would be assaulted, or robbed, or if someone would attempt to take his life. Levi’s life has been one of desperation and a true, unforgiving struggle to simply survive. And so while all of his comrades have seen and experienced the horrors of war with him, none of them can know with the same level of understanding that true kind of desperation of simply trying to live day to day, that kind of awful and overwhelming uncertainty and fear of not knowing if you’ll be alive from one day to the next. It’s those kinds of experiences in life that really separate Levi from the rest of his comrades, and in a lot of ways, isolate him from them. It’s why the extremity of their circumstances and the desperation of their situation in this final arc continually shocks and overwhelms them, but Levi regards it all with his usual, if deeply saddened, calm.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #jean krischtein #snk 133 #meta #thoughts

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sekceesimps · 3 years

Text

A Rose Made of Chains Ch 4

a/n hey all, thanks for 125 followers! Publishing Ch 5 tomorrow night. Might be a delay for Chapters 6 and 7 because of classes and depression. Hopefully I’ll be able to get that out soon.

This part will lack Kurapika and dive more into reader’s relationship with Chrollo as well as the Phantom Troupe. Hope you all enjoy!

sincerely Coffee

Kurapika x Reader x Chrollo - Soulmate AU

Part 1: Teaser, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

Part 2: teaser, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7

Weeks. It had been weeks of you being left here in the dark damp room. After your initial failed escape plan, the man who came and hurt you everyday, whom you later learned was named Feitan, had begun to bring you a small piece of the morning newspaper. It was your only source of entertainment as well as knowledge about the outside world. Nothing significant ever happened, you just looked at the date and tried to distract your mind with the light read.

It was getting colder too. You could feel the chill of the outside in your room. There was always a bite in the air that you felt in your bones whenever the door opened and Feitan came in. The nice man named Chrollo had offered you a real blanket once. You had shrugged him off, trying to hold onto your last shreds of free will. Your sensible side always got angry and screamed at you to accept the heat.

Chrollo came almost everyday and repeated his offer to you. Everytime you would say no, but he would still stay. He was the only form of comfort in the cold darkness so naturally you clung onto it, quite literally sometimes.

Some days he would stay silently by the door and read. This could be silently or out loud to you, it would vary. He always came in with a different book, always mentioning the importance of reading whenever you asked about it. Other days he would ask you about your life and in turn he would answer perhaps one question that you asked about his favorite things. You deduced that he was probably incredibly disinterested in topics regarding himself. You didn’t mind, he had a smooth voice and you had missed having conversations. Once he had even brought you a set of chess for the two of you to play. You could tell that he enjoyed spending some time with you.

There was another time when you had visibly shivered due to the cold right in front of him. He let out a little grin and hugged you, simply saying that his warm body could easily give you more heat than your clothes. You had clung onto him for what felt like hours all while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

It was one day you were feeling resistant when you asked about his past that he had seemed incredibly off-put. You made the stupid mistake of pressing further and asking about what would happen to you if you kept saying no to his offers. It fueled you to edge him on even if you knew it could lead to your demise. His eyes had held a dull fire as he left and slammed the door shut behind him. Perhaps your taunting had been a little too much.

He didn’t come back for a week. When he was gone Feitan also stopped bringing the med kit. This made your wounds more aggravated and the torture much more painful. It was slowly breaking down your body and will. The food given to you also was much less nutritious. It was clear that these people, if you could even call them that, no longer cared for your well being. So they’ve decided that they no longer need me, huh, I really am going to die here.

Surprisingly you were okay with this. The pain was numbing and prevented you from really thinking about anything else. When your injuries had been lighter, you still had the ability to think of rescue and your friends. Now even the thought of your soulmate sent lightning hot flashes of pain through your body. Looking at your soulmark made you want to throw up, since you would have to see the mark of the 12-legged spider right next to it. You sigh and curl up onto the icy floor. Your clothes were damp and bloody, making the chill in your bones even greater. At least when Chrollo came he would allow you to get a new shirt if it had gotten too bloody. You wouldn’t even get to die with your dignity now.

He had come in rather uneventfully. Quietly closing the door behind him. He came to your room and opened his book. Silent, more silent than usually. It confirmed your suspicion that they were finally going to get rid of you once and for all.

“Yes,” you voice out weakly. You refused to say more. Your will had given out, but you knew in your soul that if you stayed here any longer then you would die, either from the neglect or from your wounds and the sickness you knew was growing within them. This man could make the excruciating pain go away and all you wanted to do was hope that he would keep his word. Hope was something you had gone dry of.

He turns back, raven locks slightly obscuring his gleaming eyes. He had the faintest smile on his face, “I’m glad.” He walked towards you slowly, as if you were a wounded animal, which in all honesty you probably looked like right now. He leaned down at your level and gave you a hug. His warmth and smell invade every part of your body. You didn’t mind because now you might survive, “Let me take you to your new room,” his smile grew larger and now more sincere as took your hand, hoisting you up.

You tried to move, but your legs didn’t seem to listen to your brain and you promptly fell down. You scrunch your eyes close and expect your face to get smashed onto the ground, a final embarrassment. Surprisingly, Chrollo had caught you. You suppose that he decided that you wouldn’t be able to walk on your own so he carried you bridal style. How his lean frame managed to support your entire body weight surprised you. His mellow scent slowly eased you to sleep in his arms. This would be the first night's sleep in a while where you felt genuinely secure.

»»————-　　————-««

Waking up in this new room was bliss. You don’t remember being in as much ease and comfort before. The bed was empty but a window allowed for a single ray of light to come in. You hadn’t been around true sunlight in so long. Your mind briefly wandered to where you could possibly be but that thought was pushed away with a loud growl of your stomach. Oh right, you think, I need to eat something. You got up slowly from the bed and started walking towards the door. You turned the knob slowly, expecting to get electrocuted or something.

You opened it and padded slowly down the hall hoping to run into Chrollo or at least get to a kitchen-like area on your own. He had probably changed you in your sleep as you were now wearing real clothes in the form of sweatpants and a huge shirt. It was a huge step up from your tattering bloody rags. You kept trudging on and eventually found yourself in what looked to be a common room area. The hallways so far seemed to indicate that this place was an old hotel or maybe a dorm room. You weren’t too sure, honestly you didn’t even know if you were still in York New City.

The air here smelled damp and sour, like people who sweat and had just exercised lay down on the couches and let their stink stay permanently. I hope I don’t smell like that you thought briefly before you made a left and found yourself in a kitchen.

Maybe I should have waited for Chrollo, you scolded yourself as you look through the pantry for something good to eat. You had been starved for weeks after all. As you finally reach for a bag of pop tarts on the shelves you hear someone walk in. You quickly grab it and attempt to make yourself as small and non threatening as possible. You take in the appearance of the people who had come into the kitchen, a familiar pink haired woman as well as a short haired blonde woman who had an interesting form of clothing. The pink haired one only chuckled at your meek demeanor and gave you a hand with the food.

“Paku, this is Y/N, our newest and most gorgeous recruit” she announced lightly and moved to heat up your pop tarts.

“Pleasure to meet you,” her calming voice was directed at you. You smiled loopily at the blonde, she was hot you think to yourself.

“All done! Time to go to the meeting,” she called out to you and handed you a plate of your steaming breakfast. Lightly patting your head, trying not to startle you too much. They’re both so hot, you continue thinking. Their stares make you feel overwhelmed, you don’t remember ever being around such beautiful people.

“Meeting?” you ask weakly as you take a bite. The sugary flavor explodes in your mouth making you let out a soft moan from the happiness of it.

She and Paku share a smile before saying, “The leader called a few of us to a meeting, just some basic introductions is all.” you only nod and continue eating. When you finish you hurriedly clean your space and let Paku and the pink haired woman named Machi lead you expertly through the halls of this new home.

You come across a large empty space with some rubble and chairs where Paku lets you sit in between her and Machi. They had made pleasant small talk with you through the walk and gave you a vague idea of the layout of the area. You were definitely going to get lost but they had put you in so much ease that you felt safe with them leading the way. You had been the first to arrive and sat together in a peaceful atmosphere.

As time goes by, some people start trickling into the meeting space. You take note of a person wrapped up in bandages as well as a girl with glasses in a cute black turtleneck. A very large man with strange looking ears had come in last. They had greeted your companions and had largely ignored you before sitting down. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that your savior had come in looking quite different. He seemed quieter and more serious, but his entire look had changed. His normally loose raven locks were now slicked back on his head. He seemed less human this way, but if he was really the boss then it didn’t surprise you too much that he looked the way he did. His entire aura simply radiated authority, but in a subtle way. You had noticed how everyone in the room had perked up and stood at attention when he had come in. Even the aloof looking girl in glasses was paying attention.

“Good morning,” he remarked in that familiar smooth voice. You crooned on the inside just hearing it. “As you all know we have our newest potential member here to perhaps take spot number 11,” he stopped briefly as everyone in the room nodded their heads slightly, “and to make sure that she is fit to take that place, I want her to go on her very first mission as a sort of recruitment exercise. It will be a perfect way to test her skills and get her comfortable with the rest of us,” he didn’t look at you but at this point everyone in the room was beginning to glance your way, trying to see what kind of reaction those words would elicit. You remained unmoved by his words, trying to keep a stoic demeanor. “It’s going to be a difficult mission that will only require one other member. Their job is to just assist, but not lead, I want Y/N to do that,” he finished as he looked at you for the first time since he came in the room. His eyes held pride, you knew that he believed you would pass this test. Your lips curved into the smallest and softest of smiles. He continued, “I don’t plan on assigning anybody, so whoever wants to go can just volunteer.”

Machi raised her hand swiftly. She smiled at you and announced, “I’ll go with Y/N,”

Chrollo nodded at her and replied, “Very well, everyone else may leave and go about their business for the day. Machi and Y/N, stay so I can tell you what I want from you two.” With that the rest of the group made their way out of the room. Paku waved at you before also turning and leaving.

“There’s going to be a museum showing some of the rarest objects in the hunter world. It’s nothing like the auction as these items are more private and are owned by famous pro-hunters. In turn the museum only allows pro-hunters in. I desire one of the rarest nen blades that’s currently being shown off for about 5 billion Jenny. I have the utmost faith in the two of you,” he grinned and left. Your stomach filled with dread, having no idea how you were supposed to complete this task. Machi grins at you too and pats your shoulder.

“Good Luck, Y/N!” she laughs, “I’ll meet you back in your room in about an hour to discuss plans on entering tonight. I really like you so I hope for your sake that you can get the blade.” she leaves you to your worried deliberations. So this was the life of a thief huh?

a/n sorry it took so long to get this out, we reached 100 followers much faster than anticipated. Thank you all so much for that we love every single one of you! However, we have gotten some rude comments regarding how long it has taken to publish this series. We assure you that we are trying our best to get this out to you (we're glad you're liking it •u•) but leaving rude comments was unnecessary. Again thank you so much for the support <3!

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jenn-collins · 3 years

Text

And here’s the second part before they both get posted to AO3 as a oneshot:

“So here’s how it’s going to go,” Tony said, arm bent at the elbow as he leaned against the doorframe of her quarters in the tower.

She grabbed his collar in both of her hands, tugging him inside and he looked around once before closing the door behind him.

“You can come to the mansion to ensure your privacy. No one’s going to come after me if I do it there, right?”

“No. I don’t think.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I’ve equipped JARVIS to assist, however there will be a S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon on call in the immediate vicinity should a life threatening emergency occur.”

She looked up at him, her hands still on his shirt.

“She can wait upstairs, you’ll never even have to see her. And more importantly, she’ll never see you,” he clarified.

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. “You’re going to do it?” she asked quietly.

“I’m going to do it,” he replied softly.

A tight half-smile formed at the corner of her mouth and she let go of his shirt long enough to reach up and fling her arms around his neck, ducking her head into him.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close for a moment. “We’d better get going,” he said gently. “Jet’s waiting outside.”

XXXXX

She followed him into the side entrance of his garage, her brows narrowing as she wondered why she’d never noticed that there was a side entrance into the place before.

The lights were already turned on in the back half that made up his lab, with the ballast directly above the counter in the center on the brightest setting. Her mouth quirked up when she noticed his robots clearing the space.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tony said, gesturing around his workshop.”Don’t mind them. They’re just sterilizing the equipment.”

She silently noted the calm and confident demeanor he projected as he moved about his space, a stark contrast to the nervousness he’d shown when she’d first approached him with her problem.

“Sir, your second guest is arriving,” JARVIS informed him.

Tony nodded. “That’ll be the S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon.” He turned to Natasha. “Did you change your mind about letting a pro do it?”

She shook her head, her eyes trained on his.

“I figured. Hold on a second, I’m going to talk to her upstairs and show her to her office for the next few hours.”

He gave her a forced smile. “I always thought the circumstances would be way different when I finally said this to you, but why don’t you take your clothes off and lay down?”

She silently watched him go up the stairs, only turning her head away when she couldn’t see him anymore and focusing her attention on the low whirring sounds coming from the console. She could smell the antiseptic as the robots meticulously cleaned the counter and the tools on the small table that had been set aside for the procedure.

Then she undressed slowly, arranging her clothing in a neat pile on the couch in the center of the room one garment at a time until she was left in her black sports bra and matching boyshort panties.

She scooted up on the counter the robots had cleared, her eyes sweeping over the table to get a closer look at the makeshift medical supplies he’d selected.

“Good?” He asked quietly from his perch at the bottom of the stairs, his hands gripping the banister as he peered at her.

She nodded. “Looks like you did your homework.”

“JARVIS, lock down the workshop,” he commanded, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves as he approached.

“I’m on it, sir.”

“Any last words?” He teased, holding up an uncapped marker.

“Funny,” she said dryly, leaning back on the counter.

“Relax,” he murmured, but she couldn’t tell if he was saying to her or himself.

He spread a gloved hand over her stomach, pressing down and holding her steady while the other hand drew a meticulous line to mark the spot where he’d make the incision.

She kept her eyes trained on his face, tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he worked. His hand on her skin went a surprisingly long way in soothing the nerves she wouldn’t let herself admit she was feeling.

His eyes met hers and he offered her a soft smile. “Ready?”

She wordlessly nodded again.

“JARVIS, stay with me buddy,” she heard him say. The slight uncertain tone to his voice betrayed the steadiness and confidence in his fingers, but for some reason it made her feel better. She distantly heard JARVIS’s voice, but she didn’t make out the response.

XXXXX

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open into the harsh light and she turned her head to find Tony close by, his hand holding hers tightly.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered quietly, clearly thinking he’d only been saying it to himself.

“Hi,” she managed once she could make her throat work.

“Hi,” he said softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled somewhat proudly.

“It’s done?” she asked a little groggily.

“It’s done.” He reached to help her sit. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She looked down to admire his handiwork, finding perfectly precise stitches binding an incision that was much shorter than she’d anticipated.

“Should fade completely with proper care,” he said with pride still edging his voice. “Otherwise it’ll just match the other side,” he added, gesturing to the small scar a couple of inches to the left of her belly button.

“A souvenir from a mission gone wrong,” she explained.

He nodded. “Well, hopefully that won’t happen this time. And you didn’t think I could do it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That was you,” she pointed out.

“Right.” He gestured with his head over to the table. “I’ve got a topical antibacterial for when you clean it, but the doc also recommended an antibiotic injection to flush out any potential infection on the inside before she left. Wanted to wait for you to be conscious so I could ask.”

“You cut me open with a razor, but you were afraid to stick a needle in me?”

He slid over to the table, producing a small pamphlet and handing it to her. “Easy, feisty pants. You’re not allergic to any of those things, are you?”

She read over the ingredients, shaking her head.

“Then sit up a little straighter. It goes in your side,” he said, slowly filling a syringe. “Do you want to do it?”

“You can,” she said, bracing herself on her hands.

“Okay. C’mere,” he murmured, carefully and gently administering the antibiotic.

“You really do think of everything,” she murmured admiringly as he depressed the plunger and the needle pierced her skin.

“Isn’t that why you came to me?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “That and….”

“And what?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

They sat looking into each other’s eyes for a moment until Tony rose up from his perch on his chair and scooped her up in his arms, lifting her from the table with one arm around her waist and the other under her knees.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her arms going around his neck instinctively as he carried her.

“You’re probably going to be a little sore,” he explained, setting her carefully down on her feet. “And you don’t want to put too much strain on those stitches.”

He turned from her abruptly as if suddenly remembering something and reached for the table before turning back to her. “Here,” he said. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Her throat tightened involuntarily when he produced the small chip between his forefinger and thumb, clearly cleaned after being extracted from where it’d spent all those years wedged in her body.

“Destroy it,” she replied, her voice catching.

He narrowed one eye as he regarded her, still holding out the chip. “Hammer? Toss it into the ocean? Have a Hulk step on it? Blowtorch?”

“Blowtorch,” she said.

“Okay.” He moved into the garage part of his workspace, returning a moment later with the tool she didn’t realize she’d actually requested and she laughed.

“You do it,” he said, placing it on the edge of a workbench and holding out the blowtorch.

Her smile faltered. “You can.”

He shook his head, motioning with his hand for her to come over and she took a few tentative steps.

He pulled a pair of safety glasses out one handed and adjusted them on her face, gently smoothing her hair back with his fingers once his hand was free. “Nah, it’ll be much more satisfying if you do it. Come on, just pull the trigger right here.”

She swallowed hard, wordlessly taking the tool from him, her eyes narrowing as she held it away from her and squeezed the trigger.

The chip blasted into a few tiny pieces, most of them melting under the heat.

“Ha!” he said, clapping his hands satisfactorily. “What do you know? You’re a good shot with more than just one weapon.”

She set the tool down and threw her arms around him, ignoring the slight discomfort in her midsection as she leaned up to hug him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“Anytime,” he promised, his strong arms encircling around her waist and pulling her into his body as he hugged her back.

When they broke the embrace, she stood up on her tiptoes, closed her eyes and pressed her lips softly to his cheek in a long, lingering kiss.

She felt him swallow hard, then his breath was warm on her face as she slowly pulled away, opening her eyes to find his lips parted and a vulnerable, slightly dazed expression on his face.

“Tony,” she whispered, suddenly realizing that she was still in her underwear.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway I think you just gave me an idea for an upgrade to the Iron Man suit.”

She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Microchips under the skin to attract the armor.”

“Seriously?”

“What? It’s nano-tech. And it can be injected.”

“And you don’t think that’s dangerous?”

He pursed his lips. “You’re really going to talk to me about what’s dangerous now?”

“Um, do you want to take me home?” She asked to change the subject.

“To New York? Actually, I was thinking. Maybe you should just spend the night here tonight. That was I can keep an eye on you, in case you develop an infection, or something.”

She rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the couch and reached for her clothes. “And you don’t think I can handle that on my own?”

“I think friends who pressure friends into doing something dangerous that they’re not exactly comfortable with can at least humor their friend for peace of mind.”

She sighed.

“Come on. I already have a room ready for you upstairs,” he insisted.

She nodded silently, realizing that she wasn’t going to win this one and followed him up the stairs.

“I already called Cap and told him you’re not working this weekend,” he said a little more gently as she peered into the room he’d had prepared.

She had to admit, the plush queen size, rows of pillows and oversized blankets did look inviting.

“How are you doing? Do you want any painkillers?” He asked.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Will you at least let me help clean it and bandage it up before bed?”

“Sure,” she said softly, sitting on the bed and lifting up her shirt.

The small night table was already loaded up with first aid supplies and he reached for some cotton balls, dousing them in rubbing alcohol before gingerly pressing them to her wound.

She winced slightly at the sting, but his hands were gentle and practiced and he knelt down on the floor in front of her, blowing softly on the area to soothe it and sending goosebumps up her side.

“Can I make a friendly observation?” He asked quietly as he covered the stitches with a thin layer of gauze and sealed it with some medical tape.

She nodded, grateful for anything that would make her stop thinking too hard about this hands on her skin.

“You are pretty reckless when it comes to things from your past,” he said softly, his brown eyes wide and caring as he looked up at her.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.

He slowly rose up and sat on the bed next to her. “Maybe you could try leaning on your friends a little more often,” he suggested.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hand reaching down between them to cover the fresh wound he’d made.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. “It’s over.”

“For now,” she said in a low voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Can’t we just sit?”

“For now,” he replied, drawing her in closer and resting his cheek against her hair.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill as she breathed him in, her body and her emotions raw as he held her.

“Hey, Nat?” He asked after awhile.

“Hmmmm…..?”

“What’s this?” he said.

“What’s what?” She asked, raising her head a little so she could look at him.

He moved the hand that wasn’t full of her hair and pressed his thumb into the tiny arrow charm that sat just above her collar bone.

“Oh… it’s just something I wear for a friend. To keep him close.”

“It’s pretty obvious who that friend is,” Tony muttered.

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Are you jealous?” She asked, trying and failing to keep her lips from quirking upwards. “Cause you know that you’re the friend I wanted for this, right?”

He looked back at her. “Most of the time it’s a boyfriend who buys a necklace for his girlfriend,” he said evenly.

She laughed. “It’s never been like that between me and Clint,” she insisted. “It’s just… I don’t know. When I first started at S.H.I.E.L.D., Clint and I were paired on every mission together. Dangerous stuff.”

He gazed back at her skeptically.

“But… after awhile I started to earn my own reputation. And we wouldn’t be paired for everything.” She shrugged her shoulders. “This is my way of reminding myself of him. Kind of like he’s there, even when he’s not.”

“I see. Well, should I buy you a diamond bracelet or something to remind you of me, when I’m not around?”

“It doesn’t really work like that,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I have tonight to remind me of you,” she added, reaching between them and threading her fingers through his.

He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “How are you really feeling?” he asked.

“Honestly? It feels a little weird,” she admitted. “But it’s better with you here.”

He smiled softly, a tired, but genuine smile.

“Tony?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed his collar in both of her hands, tugging him inside and he looked around once before closing the door behind him.

“You can come to the mansion to ensure your privacy. I’ve equipped JARVIS to assist, however there will be a S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon on call in the immediate vicinity should a life threatening emergency occur.”

She looked up at him, her hands still on his shirt.

“She can wait upstairs, you’ll never even have to see her. And more importantly, she’ll never see you,” he clarified.

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion. “You’re going to do it?” she asked quietly.

“I’m going to do it,” he replied softly.

A tight half-smile formed at the corner of her mouth and she let go of his shirt long enough to reach up and fling her arms around his neck, ducking her head into him.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close for a moment. “We’d better get going,” he said gently. “Jet’s waiting outside.”

XXXXX

She followed him into the side entrance of his garage, her brows narrowing as she wondered why she’d never noticed that there was a side entrance into the place before.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tony said, gesturing around his workshop.”Don’t mind them. They’re just sterilizing the equipment.”

She silently noted the calm and confident demeanor he projected as he moved about his space, a stark contrast to the nervousness he’d shown when she’d first approached him with her problem.

“Sir, your second guest is arriving,” JARVIS informed him.

Tony nodded. “That’ll be the S.H.I.E.L.D. surgeon.” He turned to Natasha. “Did you change your mind about letting a pro do it?”

She shook her head, her eyes trained on his.

“I figured. Hold on a second, I’m going to talk to her upstairs and show her to her office for the next few hours.”

He gave her a forced smile. “I always thought the circumstances would be way different when I finally said this to you, but why don’t you take your clothes off and lay down?”

Then she undressed slowly, arranging her clothing in a neat pile on the couch in the center of the room one garment at a time until she was left in her black sports bra and matching boyshort panties.

She scooted up on the counter the robots had cleared, her eyes sweeping over the table to get a closer look at the makeshift medical supplies he’d selected.

“Good?” He asked quietly from his perch at the bottom of the stairs, his hands gripping the banister as he peered at her.

She nodded. “Looks like you did your homework.”

“JARVIS, lock down the workshop,” he commanded, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves as he approached.

“I’m on it, sir.”

“Any last words?” He teased, holding up an uncapped marker.

“Funny,” she said dryly, leaning back on the counter.

“Relax,” he murmured, but she couldn’t tell if he was saying to her or himself.

He spread a gloved hand over her stomach, pressing down and holding her steady while the other hand drew a meticulous line to mark the spot where he’d make the incision.

His eyes met hers and he offered her a soft smile. “Ready?”

She wordlessly nodded again.

XXXXX

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open into the harsh light and she turned her head to find Tony close by, his hand holding hers tightly.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered quietly, clearly thinking he’d only been saying it to himself.

“Hi,” she managed once she could make her throat work.

“Hi,” he said softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled somewhat proudly.

“It’s done?” she asked a little groggily.

“It’s done.” He reached to help her sit. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She looked down to admire his handiwork, finding perfectly precise stitches binding an incision that was much shorter than she’d anticipated.

“A souvenir from a mission gone wrong,” she explained.

He nodded. “Well, hopefully that won’t happen this time. And you didn’t think I could do it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That was you,” she pointed out.

“You cut me open with a razor, but you were afraid to stick a needle in me?”

He slid over to the table, producing a small pamphlet and handing it to her. “Easy, feisty pants. You’re not allergic to any of those things, are you?”

She read over the ingredients, shaking her head.

“Then sit up a little straighter. It goes in your side,” he said, slowly filling a syringe. “Do you want to do it?”

“You can,” she said, bracing herself on her hands.

“Okay. C’mere,” he murmured, carefully and gently administering the antibiotic.

“You really do think of everything,” she murmured admiringly as he depressed the plunger and the needle pierced her skin.

“Isn’t that why you came to me?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “That and….”

“And what?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“What are you doing?” She asked, her arms going around his neck instinctively as he carried her.

“You’re probably going to be a little sore,” he explained, setting her carefully down on her feet. “And you don’t want to put too much strain on those stitches.”

He turned from her abruptly as if suddenly remembering something and reached for the table before turning back to her. “Here,” he said. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Her throat tightened involuntarily when he produced the small chip between his forefinger and thumb, clearly cleaned after being extracted from where it’d spent all those years wedged in her body.

“Destroy it,” she replied, her voice catching.

He narrowed one eye as he regarded her, still holding out the chip. “Hammer? Toss it into the ocean? Blowtorch?”

“Blowtorch,” she said.

“Okay.” He moved into the garage part of his workspace, returning a moment later with the tool she didn’t realize she’d actually requested and she laughed.

“You do it,” he said, placing it on the edge of a workbench and holding out the blowtorch.

Her smile faltered. “You can.”

He shook his head, motioning with his hand for her to come over and she took a few tentative steps.

She swallowed hard, wordlessly taking the tool from him, her eyes narrowing as she held it away from her and squeezed the trigger.

The chip blasted into a few tiny pieces, most of them melting under the heat.

“Ha!” he said, clapping his hands satisfactorily. “What do you know? You’re a good shot with more than just one weapon.”

She set the tool down and threw her arms around him, ignoring the slight discomfort in her midsection as she leaned up to hug him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“Anytime,” he promised, his strong arms encircling around her waist and pulling her into his body as he hugged her back.

When they broke the embrace, she stood up on her tiptoes, closed her eyes and pressed her lips softly to his cheek in a long, lingering kiss.

She felt him swallow hard, then his breath was warm on her face as she slowly pulled away, opening her eyes to find his lips parted and a vulnerable, slightly dazed expression on his face.

“Tony,” she whispered, suddenly realizing that she was still in her underwear.

He cleared his throat.

“Um, do you want to take me home?” She asked.

“To New York? Actually, I was thinking. Maybe you should just spend the night here tonight. That was I can keep an eye on you, in case you develop an infection, or something.”

She rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the couch and reached for her clothes. “And you don’t think I can handle that on my own?”

“I think friends who pressure friends into doing something dangerous that they’re not exactly comfortable with can at least humor their friend for peace of mind.”

She sighed.

“Come on. I already have a room ready for you upstairs,” he insisted.

She nodded silently, realizing that she wasn’t going to win this one and followed him up the stairs.

“I already called Cap and told him you’re not working this weekend,” he said a little more gently as she peered into the room he’d had prepared.

She had to admit, the plush queen size, rows of pillows and oversized blankets did look inviting.

“How are you doing? Do you want any painkillers?” He asked.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Will you at least let me help clean it and bandage it up before bed?”

“Sure,” she said softly, sitting on the bed and lifting up her shirt.

The small night table was already loaded up with first aid supplies and he reached for some cotton balls, dousing them in rubbing alcohol before gingerly pressing them to her wound.

She winced slightly at the sting, but his hands were gentle and practiced and he knelt down on the floor in front of her, blowing softly on the area to soothe it and sending goosebumps up her side.

“Can I make a friendly observation?” He asked quietly as he covered the stitches with a thin layer of gauze and sealed it with some medical tape.

She nodded, grateful for anything that would make her stop thinking too hard about this hands on her skin.

“You are pretty reckless when it comes to things from your past,” he said softly, his brown eyes wide and caring as he looked up at her.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.

He slowly rose up and sat on the bed next to her. “Maybe you could try leaning on your friends a little more often,” he suggested.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hand reaching down between them to cover the fresh wound he’d made.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders. “It’s over.”

“For now,” she said in a low voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

She shook her head. “Can’t we just sit?”

“For now,” he replied, drawing her in closer and resting his cheek against her hair.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill as she breathed him in, her body and her emotions raw as he held her.

“Hey, Nat?” He asked after awhile.

“Hmmmm…..?”

“What’s this?” he said.

“What’s what?” She asked, raising her head a little so she could look at him.

He moved the hand that wasn’t full of her hair and pressed his thumb into the tiny arrow charm that sat just above her collar bone.

“Oh… it’s just something I wear for a friend. To keep him close.”

“It’s pretty obvious who that friend is,” Tony muttered.

He looked back at her. “Most of the time it’s a boyfriend who buys a necklace for his girlfriend,” he said evenly.

He gazed back at her skeptically.

“I see. Well, should I buy you a diamond bracelet or something to remind you of me, when I’m not around?”

“It doesn’t really work like that,” she said with a smile. “Besides, I have tonight to remind me of you,” she added, reaching between them and threading her fingers through his.

He squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. “How are you really feeling?” he asked.

“Honestly? It feels a little weird,” she admitted. “But it’s better with you here.”

He smiled softly, a tired, but genuine smile.

“Tony?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Thank you.”

#tonynat #ironwidow #iron widow #black widow #ironwidow fanfiction #my fanfiction

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maplecornia · 3 years

Text

chapter 27

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.39K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: so the continuous posting every day has now officially ended now that we have caught up in the story ^^ so be expecting updates every Saturday instead of every day lmao

The door opens before you have a chance to turn away.

You don't know why you're so scared, but you do know that being called in to meet the chairman of HYBE entertainment isn't necessarily a good thing. Especially when you haven't even started your first day yet.

Swallowing hard, you step forward, almost wanting to reach out and take Namjoon's hand. If you do, maybe then you have someone to lean on. Someone to help you not feel so afraid. However, his presence behind you offers you more than enough comfort and you take a breath, grateful that you have his moral support.

The door shutting tightly behind the two of you, you raise your eyes to find BangPD sitting at the head of the room, his chin resting on his hands. You pause in the doorway, waiting for his invitation to sit as he regards you with those small thoughtful eyes. Unable to stand the uncomfortable tension, you clear your throat.

"What's going on?" you murmur, your voice weak despite the attempt to strengthen it. BangPD smiles at your question and leans back in his chair, nodding slightly to Namjoon.

"Mrs. Lin, please take a seat." He requests, and Namjoon obliges, placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you to a small sofa set amid the massive office. As he sits you down, he takes your hand in his own before resting on the cushion next to you. Inwardly, you smile, feeling a bit of the fear ebbing away.

"Did I do something wrong?" You inquire, peering up at him as BangPD rests on the cool gray couch opposite of you.

"Of course not." He chuckles at your innocent question before leaning back in the chair and resting his face on his hand. As though he were measuring you up, making sure you fit his standards. You squirm a bit under his gaze, and Namjoon glares at him, his hold on your hand growing subconsciously tighter. "I simply wanted to ask you a question, a proposal if you will."

You bite your lip in nervous anticipation, regarding him with wary eyes. At your silence, his smile grows, and it makes you uncomfortable. Somehow, you know that you are not in control of the situation. Feeling that slip away, you don't know if you'll be able to conduct yourself properly.

After a moment, he leans forward and picks up a remote. He presses a button and a small speaker on the table crackles to life. There's a few moments of static before a voice fills the voice, and your heart pummels to your stomach.

Your voice.

Your blood turning cold, you look up at BangPD with wide eyes.

What is he going to do? Am I fired? Will Jaejin lose his job?

Turning to Namjoon, you try to read his expression, but he's focused solely on the chairman, his expression unreadable.

What does he think? Is he upset with me?

It's not even your first day, and already you're in deeper water than you signed up for.

"I--" you begin, but BangPD pauses the track and leans forward towards you, cutting you off.

"Is this you?" he murmurs. You wonder why he's asking a question, he already knows the answer to. Stunned, you don't answer him, and he smiles once more, leaning back. There's a moment of silence, as the two of you regard each other. One in confusion, the other in amusement.

Biting your bottom lip, you can't help but feel a bit indignant. Why is he playing with you? Is this some kind of game? You don't want to be a piece on his little chessboard.

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Namjoon brushes your cheek, gathering your attention. You flinch before turning to him, but he doesn't look fazed. Instead, his hand tightens around yours, and those solemn eyes bore into yours, calming you without so much as a second glance.

"Yen, you're talented. BangPD thinks so as well."

When he says those words, you can't help but feel a taste of bile rising in your throat. You bite your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, but when you see his face pass over Namjoon's kind eyes, it's hard not to. Your hand tightens, nails digging into your palm, as you try to calm yourself down, erase toxic memories that refuse to let you free.

"What?" you murmur, your voice hoarse and terrified.

"Ms. Lin, what I'm about to offer you is something that could drastically affect your life and the future of our company." Turning to the renowned chairman, you can hear the pounding of your heartbeat reverberating in your ears. You don’t notice the flash of remorse across Namjoon’s eyes, nor the way he tightens his jaw as soon as BangPD speaks. "So I want you to seriously consider before responding."

"What are you talking about?" you nearly snap, but he doesn't say anything more, just places a file on the table. He pushes it towards you, and though reluctantly, you draw your hand out of Namjoon's grip, pulling the file into your lap.

You regard BangPD with wary eyes before opening the file.

"What is this?" you murmur, squinting at the neatly printed Korean.

"A contract."

You balk, nearly dropping the papers in your lap as you look up at him. You can feel the fear growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, his voice coming back to haunt you once more. BangPD smiles at your silence, his eyes softening.

"Ms. Lin, I would like to sign you as a trainee. Underneath BigHit entertainment."

Your hand tightening around the document, you swallow hard.

"What?"

Not again, oh God please don't let it happen again.

"Yen, this is your dream isn't it?" Namjoon asks from beside you, his hand resting on your knee, an attempt to calm you down. Namjoon doesn’t know why he’s saying this, shouldn’t he be stopping you? Shouldn’t he be finding reasons so you could say no? But inwardly, he cannot stand to see your face change that way. He can’t stand to see you afraid. His heart aches every time he sees that look in your eyes.

BangPD catches the exchange, his eyes calculating and silent.

Interesting.

"You don't have to make a decision right now." He sighs resting his head on his hand once more. You look up at him, your eyes bare and vulnerable and he squints, intrigued. You may seem like an open book, but Bang Sihyuk can tell that there is more behind your innocence. He wonders if he wants to know what secrets they keep. "I'll give you a week to think it over."

Your mouth turning dry, you try not to show your relief. Maybe after a week, he'll forget. Maybe after a week, you won't be so interesting.

After all, it's not that hard to forget about me.

You try not to be bitter about the thought, but you can't help it. After all, Namjoon was right.

This is your dream.

Looking down at the contract, you grit your teeth as though that would make the lump in your throat disappear.

This was your dream.

So why did he have to ruin it?

After a moment, BangPD nods to Namjoon, and he stands. Tapping you softly on the shoulder, he pulls you up with him, your hands clinging onto the contract as though it were a lifeline. Concerned about your current condition, RM peers into your face. You look up at him with a blank gaze, as though something inside you had been fractured.

His eyes are expectant, waiting for a sign that you won't break down. Smiling weakly, you nod to him, and he grins back before taking you by the arm and guiding you out of the office.

"I want you to know," BangPD calls after you just as Namjoon's hand rests on the doorknob. You turn back to him, confused. He looks up at you from his chair, his hand massaging his temple as he regards you with those small cold calculating eyes. "I believe you have a gift."

You swallow at the words, somehow feeling small and insignificant. At your demeanor, Sihyuk narrows his eyes before sighing and turning away, dismissing you with a final farewell.

"It would be a shame to waste it."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: what do you think she should do?

chapter 28 here

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check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Spaces Between Us Chapter 10: Over Again

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

A/N: Not much to say here. Mentions of what Emma went through in the previous chapter, as well as some minor medical stuff. Message me if you need more info!

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly, and to @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

Read the Rest

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Emma is stuck. She knows what will make her happy, what will make things right for her, and she can’t get there. Any move she makes, someone suffers, and she can hardly stand it any longer. While she originally thought that a separation would lead to her potentially losing her son, she fears now that doing anything to inconvenience her husband could mean real, immediate threats to their physical safety, and she has no idea what to do. She’s feeling so hopeless that she can hardly get herself out of bed on time to walk Henry to school the next morning.

Walsh isn’t home when she wakes, although she isn’t sure when he left because she spent another night in the guest room. While she would normally text Killian minimally, she found that she felt so despondent last night that she couldn’t pick up her phone. While he normally makes her feel a sense of calm safety, her argument with her husband and the imminent threat of danger against her and Henry erased any feelings of positivity that she had.

Of course, it was foolish of her to use Killian as a means to feel good about her life when she knows how bad it is. Having him has been great, but it doesn’t address the root of her problems, and she’s starting to see that with more and more clarity. She can see now that, despite how soothing his presence has been over the last few months, things are as bad as ever-- worse-- and last night served as a wake up call to that fact. The depression that has plagued her for six years, the blackened shadow that she thought Killian had shown a light upon, has settled itself over her heart once again.

Henry’s quiet on their short walk to school, as if he can read her demeanor, and it makes the tears continue to flow from her eyes until they feel frozen on her cheeks. She can’t believe that she’s let this affect him so much that he can tell that she’s feeling this way. It only serves as another reminder of her shortcomings as a mother.

He hugs her so tight when they get to school that she dreads letting go, wishing she could steal him away and run as fast and as far as they can, but she knows that could never happen. Whatever she does, Walsh and his cohorts will find them, of that she’s certain.

She’s on her way back to the house, unsure of how to spend her Friday and desiring not to see anyone who can tell her something she already knows. She doesn’t need to hear from her sister about how horrible her life has become. She doesn’t need to hear from Killian about how desperately he wants to get her away from her husband.

Of course, what she needs doesn’t seem to be on the universe’s radar, because before she can make it halfway home, the squad car is pulling up behind her and parking, the driver’s door swinging open violently.

“Emma!” he calls, jogging towards her and stopping short just in front of her. “Emma, what’s… I didn’t hear from you last night.”

There’s nothing she can say or do, because his tone suggests that he’s upset with her, and she can’t handle that now. So she cries.

“Killian,” she sobs, flinching away from him when he reaches his arms out towards her.

“Love, talk to me. Come on, we can go somewhere safe.”

“I’m not safe,” she shakes her head. “We aren’t--”

“Emma,” he says, trying hard to calm her panicked breathing by lightly holding the tops of her arms. “You’re safe right now. Henry’s at school and he’s safe too. Let’s go to the station and I can jump your car, aye? Or, my mate, Will, works at a garage. He can sort it out. Let’s just… let’s get off the street, alright?”

She looks around, worried that someone may see her mid-breakdown, but there’s no one around so she follows him and gets into the car.

It takes longer than it should for her to realize that they aren’t going to the station. Instead, he parks in his usual spot in front of his apartment, turning towards her after he surveys the area and determines there to be no one around. With urgency, he gets out of the car and rounds to her door before she can even undo her seatbelt, opening the door and holding his hand out for her.

She squeezes his hand harder than she needs to, her knuckles going white as they walk up the stairs and inside the door. He says something when they get inside but she doesn’t hear him, the whole world sounding like she’s under water as she continues to realize just how bad things have gone for her. He says her name again and again, running his thumbs along her cheeks to wipe away her tears until she can finally meet his eyes with hers. It’s only once she recognizes the pure fear in his eyes that she’s able to snap herself out of it and focus on the sound of his voice.

“Killian,” she croaks, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Emma, please talk to me,” he practically begs her, his voice soft and gentle but filled with terror as he kisses her eyelids and her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “What’s going on? What did he do?”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she promises. She finally allows herself to take in a deep breath and falls against his chest, practically collapsing against him and letting him support the full brunt of her weight. Before she can say anything else, she lets out a loud, painful sob.

He scoops her up easily, cradling her against his chest as he carries her to the couch and holding her in his lap, grabbing for a throw blanket and wrapping her up tightly and holding her together both literally and metaphorically. He whispers in her ear about how he’s here, she’s safe, he won’t let anything happen to her, but she knows he has little control over that.

“I’m so scared,” she cries against his neck, squeezing her thighs over his hips to try and get closer to him.

“Would you tell me what happened, my love?” he asks gently, and though she can tell that he’s still a ball of nerves, he tries to hide it in order to soothe her. “Why don’t we get in the bath, aye? A nice warm tub always makes you feel better.”

“Stay with me?” she asks, almost begging, and he nods.

“I’ll always, always be by your side, love.”

She nods, letting him help her off the couch, though she’s starting to think more clearly. He guides her into the bathroom, and although the tub isn’t too big, he always holds her close enough to keep her warm despite her shoulders and knees sticking out of the hot water.

He starts the tub, filling it with the soap he knows she likes the best and sitting her on the toilet gently and running his fingers through her hair. He takes the elastic from her wrist and starts delicately pulling it around her golden strands, lifting them into a high bun so that they can escape the water. Once her hair is taken care of, he starts at the zipper of her sweatshirt, trailing his fingers slowly as he opens it and pulls it off of her shoulders. He folds the garment carefully and places it on the counter before returning his hands to her back, unhooking her bra and placing it atop her shirt before he drops a tender, loving kiss to her forehead that silently tells her everything she needs to hear.

The act of him undressing her seems so simple, but it’s so incredibly personal and intimate. She’s finally able to breathe, to let her mind rest, to close her eyes and not see burning anger staring back at her. She knows she can’t rely on him to make everything better for her, but she can certainly appreciate how much he helps her.

He takes off her leggings too, pulling her underwear down with them, and folds each piece of clothing to add to the small pile. Once she’s undressed, he places her towel around her shoulders and begins to remove his own clothes, placing them next to hers, and she can’t help but long sadly over how good the two outfits look together on his bathroom counter. He plants another soft kiss to her forehead, then her eyelids, then her lips, before he turns and determines that the tub is full enough.

He instructs her to stand with a gentle, “come, love,” placing his hand on the small of her back and carefully guiding her to the tub. He holds her hand as she lets herself sink, feelings of panic and hopelessness melting into the hot water and dispersing further when he climbs in and settles against her back. She lets her head drop backwards against his shoulder and holds his forearms as they wrap tightly around her middle.

In the gentle silence of the tub, the only sounds filling the room their breathing and the steady drip from the faucet, she finally feels somewhat glued together. She can stop thinking about how her life is crumbling around her and allow herself to feel whole in his arms. It’s a reminder of how easy the last few months have been. How easy it’s been to ignore the weight of her situation and of her desperate depression in favor of focusing on the light and warmth he’s brought into her life.

She gives herself a few moments to feel at peace, safe and comforted in his arms, before she moves to turn around. It proves difficult in the small tub, his legs getting tangled in hers, but she’s eventually able to settle herself on his lap and face him, her fingers sliding into his hair and dampening it slightly. He rests his own on her waist, soothingly scratching her skin with his soft fingertips. “Love,” he murmurs in the quiet, and the soft word is enough to break her just enough.

Falling forward, she lets her lips envelop his and holds him to her as closely as she can possibly manage. He kisses her back easily, letting his tongue smooth over her bottom lip as she sighs into his mouth. She feels a sense of desperation to be as near to him as possible; to allow him to care for her and love her in the way that her husband would rather die than do.

“Emma,” he breathes against her mouth, and she whimpers at the loss of him as he pulls away to look at her.

“I need you,” she pleads in a whisper. “Please, I just… I need you to love me.”

“I do love you,” he promises, matching her tone. “More than anything. Nothing will ever change that.”

He can read her, of course. She knows because he takes her face in his hands and kisses her with hot ferocity that gives her exactly what she needs. He tells her again and again that he loves her as she desperately lifts her hips over his and slides him into her. She’s hot and tense and needy, and the feeling of him gliding into her brings her home.

She’s never cried during sex before. But the way he kisses her and cradles her in his arms and bends his knees to support her backside against his thighs makes her feel so solid. She feels the opposite of how she felt last night and the opposite of how she feels each time she’s with Walsh. She loves Killian so much, and it’s killing her to be so trapped in her marriage to another man.

Emma cries out her love for him while she comes hard around his cock, and he kisses away her tears and holds her as close to him as he can while he comes too. “Baby,” he chokes out as he bites her shoulder, the way he only does when he’s so emotional and he’s come so hard that he doesn’t have a filter.

Finally, when their breathing has quieted and they’ve loosened their grips on each other just slightly, he mumbles into her neck, “I just want what’s best for you and your boy, Emma.”

“It’s you,” she says without hesitation. “It is. But he--” she chokes on her words and lets her head fall against the warm firmness of his chest.

“Emma, please,” he begs. “Please talk to me. Let’s get you dried off and I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I can’t eat,” she whispers.

“Please,” he says again, kissing her temple. “Just try for me, alright? I’m sure you’ve barely eaten since yesterday.”

She nods, and when they finally make their way out of the water, he dries her tenderly with the towel he keeps for her and gives her the privacy she needs to get dressed. Being alone in his bathroom isn’t as bad as she was expecting, her feelings of anxiety and terror creeping back but not debilitatingly so. Just being in his home where she knows no one will find her is enough to soothe her aching heart. When she’s finally dressed, she creeps into the kitchen slowly, hugging her arms around her waist before he hoists her up onto the counter beside the stove and kisses her nose softly.

He cracks a second egg into a bowl and starts beating them quickly, reminding her where she got the recipe for Henry’s favorite scambied eggies in the first place as he splashes in some cream and dusts in some seasonings. He holds his hand over the pan to test the temperature and then pours the eggs in slowly, the mixture looking more perfect than anything she’s ever been able to duplicate.

“There we are,” he says as he plates them and places them on the small table, the very one they sat at months ago when they decided that they could never be apart from one another. She hops down from the counter and follows his lead, sitting at her usual seat and poking her fork into the perfect, fluffy eggs he’s prepared for her.

He jokes with her lightheartedly as she eats, and she feels herself smiling at him although her sordid mind tries to stop her. He tells her about the shenanigans his friend Will has gotten into while he’s been sheriff, and about his worries that he’s bending the rules by letting certain things slide. He tells her how much he enjoyed spending time with her son yesterday, and she’s reminded of how much his own father resents him.

“Okay,” she finally mumbles, fueled by how horribly her husband has wronged her son. She stands up, places the empty plate in his sink, and moves to sit on his lap.

She recounts the evening as best she can, telling him about how Walsh had kissed her and taken it farther than she was comfortable the moment he touched her, although he didn’t stop right away. He tightens his grip on her, holding her close against his chest as she goes on about his fist colliding with the wall just beside her head. He runs his hand up and down her spine and kisses her temple as she tells him what her husband said about being a father. She tells him what Walsh said about her ruining his life and his desire to punish her, and she feels his breathing quicken. He listens to every word and stays silent long after she finishes her story.

“Emma,” he finally chokes, “I need to get you out of there.” She shakes her head forcefully against his chest.

“He said--”

“Fuck what he said,” he says, cutting her off more forcefully than she thinks he meant to. “I’m the sheriff. What you’ve described is abuse. Physical threats. Unwanted sexual advances. Even punching the wall qualifies as interpersonal violence. All you have to do is make a report and--”

“No, Killian, I can’t. He’ll know…”

“Darling,” he insists, cupping her cheek and massaging his fingers against her scalp, “the law can keep you safe. I can keep you safe. I know I’m biased, but I have dealt with things like this in the past. I have experience supporting battered women.”

She gulps and takes a heavy breath, her lungs burning as she does so at the mention of her being battered. The title makes her cringe. She feels weak. “He has his… bodyguards. I’ve never seen them do anything, but I know they have a reputation. They’ll find me and Henry and they’ll… they'll make me pay.”

“So we leave, get you the protection you need. We can get you a safehouse, I have pull here, love.” she sighs. “I know it’s difficult to think of yourself as having fallen into this situation. A lot of women struggle to see themselves as a victim. But you are, my love, and the department can help you.”

She sighs again and rests against his chest. Just as she’s about to formulate her thoughts, to try and put into words just how terrified she is of how wrong things can go, how scared she is to make any more waves, but how badly she wants to escape-- just as she’s about to agree with him and make a plan to get away-- her phone starts ringing and she jumps. Killian reaches for it and shows her the screen.

Storybrooke Elementary flashes across the screen, and her heart drops into her stomach as she slides her finger across to answer the phone.

It’s Henry, of course. They've called an ambulance; it’s five minutes away. His rescue inhaler isn’t working.

Killian has his coat on before she even finishes the call, ushering her towards the door and slamming the car into reverse before he throws the sirens on.

~~~~

The world is a blur, and he’s never seen his Emma in such distress before. He thought he’d seen the worst of it earlier while she was recounting the way her husband had attacked her the night before, but when she watches helplessly as her son struggles for breath, clinging his hands to hers in fear, he goes white and feels nauseous. He’s never met someone stronger than Emma Swan, and right now, she’s breaking.

She cries into his chest while the doctors wheel him through the double doors through which she isn’t allowed to follow. The boy has lost consciousness, and they must act quickly. Her fingers dig into his neck and shoulders as she clings to him as if it’s the only thing keeping her from drowning in her sea of terror. If she loses her son, she loses everything.

Eventually, blessedly, after she’s caught her breath and exhausted herself to the point where she can no longer shed any tears, a doctor comes out to meet them and informs her that her son is alright. His asthma has gotten worse and they will need to begin more extensive treatments, but he’s sleeping soundly in bed and she can go and see him in a moment. But first, he asks to speak with her alone, and Killian steps away out of ear shot, only able to watch as her face falls and her shoulders sag.

~~~~

“Henry’s asthma is very severe, and it seems to be getting worse,” the on-call pulmonologist, Dr. Whale, says. “Is that from your’s or dad’s side of the family?”

Emma shrugs anxiously. “Neither of us have it in our family. He was premature.”

He raises a brow doubtfully and gives her a look that makes her feel small and incorrect. “Are you sure? What was his birth weight? Perhaps you got the date of conception wrong?”

“I didn’t,” she snaps sensitively. The judgement she’s receiving from him is setting her on edge, even more so than she has been all day. “I knew the exact date of conception, and he was a month early.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, and says, “Mrs. Oswald--”

“Emma.”

“Emma… Henry’s asthma is severe. It’s indicative of being genetically inherited. While four weeks is certainly early, being premature would not have led to this level of symptomatology.”

She screws her brows together and glares at him, her heart beating forcefully against her chest as she asks, “what are you implying?”

“What I’m implying, ma’am, is that your son’s condition is more than likely a genetic one. Meaning it was inherited from either yourself, or his father. If you don’t have asthma in your family, perhaps you missed something. Or your husband did. Or… I might suggest that Henry’s--”

“That’s enough,” she demands, holding up her hand to silence him. Through her denial and her refusal to consider something that seems more and more possible, she lets her shoulders drop in defeat.

When Killian came to her months ago, she refused to hear his suggestion that he was actually Henry's father. It wasn’t because she didn’t want him to be, or because she was desperate for Walsh to be. It was because, if Killian truly is Henry’s father, that means she spent six years of her life with a man who hates her and her son. She put her child through emotional neglect for his entire life without meaning to at all. The last night they spent together, with the breakup sex and the crying, Emma was on the pill, but looking back, she hadn’t been taking it regularly enough in her stress as they considered ending their relationship.

When she found out she was pregnant, she couldn’t stand the idea of it being Killian’s because it would mean she made the wrong decision. She shouldn’t have given him that ultimatum and she should’ve swallowed her pride and gone with him to London because that’s what you do when you become a parent. You make sacrifices. And she didn’t do that.

So she unwittingly convinced herself for over half a decade that the man she spent one night with had impregnated her and went along with his charade of a happy, well adjusted family. It isn’t as if she ever truly knew that the baby was Killian’s, not really. She hardly noticed any pregnancy symptoms until a few weeks after she was with Walsh, and unknowingly allowed that to trick her mind into thinking it was his. Her denial was so strong, her heartbreak so painful, that she didn’t even allow herself the chance to consider another possibility. When she realized her terrible mistake soon after they were married, she realized she couldn’t undo what she’d done, so she let herself fall deeper into her denial and held her head up as she grinned and beared the treatment she now realizes she never deserved. The treatment she now realizes she never had to endure in the first place.

“What, um,” she starts nervously, gnawing at her bottom lip as she turns quickly towards Killian and then back at the judgemental face of Dr. Whale. “What sort of information would you need to determine whether… whether Henry is…”

“Do you have any inclination on who the father could be?” He asks, seemingly able to read her mind. Neither of them proposed the possibility of Henry not being Walsh’s son, but it seems as though this doctor senses the source of her internal struggle. “If we had information on the genetic factors of his condition, it could help us determine the best course of treatment.”

She nods immediately. “Yes, I do.”

~~~~

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beasback · 3 years

Text

What We Deserve Chapter 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word count: 1506

Warnings: Angry/Depressed Dean

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

Dean? Sam squinted slowly peeling his eyelids open. Dean was up awfully early for school. It wasn’t like him, unless...

“Any word from Dad?” Sam yawned.

Dean smirked while tying his shoes on his mattress. Sam was always observant. Perks of being a hunter.

“He called this morning, said he doesn’t know yet. Could be a few hours, could be another week. We weren’t supposed to be here this long.”

Sam sat up stretching in arms above his head. “At least you've got Amanda. She’s cool.”

Sam didn’t really know Amanda. She was a senior and popular. Barry made sure to tell Sam he thought Dean was cool when he saw them sneaking out of the janitor’s closet one time.

Dean groaned, “Dude, she wants me to meet her parents. I don't do parents.”

Sam snorted.

“Besides, you have Y/N and what’s his name? The kid with the glasses.”

“Barry,” Sam rolled his eyes seeing the empty bed beside him. “Where’s Y/N anyway?”

Throwing his brown leather jacket over his shoulder Dean replied, “I drove her home this morning so she can get ready for school.”

Sam nodded in approval. Sure Dean complained out loud about Sam and Y/N always hanging out in the motel but he always took care of them.

“Careful Dean, you might actually convince everyone you’re a good guy.” Sam joked.

Dean didn’t find the joke humorous though. Sam realized that when a pillow hit him in the face.

“Get ready.” Dean growled.

Dean’s left hand came up to rest on his latest conquest’s cheek deepening their kiss. The brunette’s right hand trailed down Dean's chest. The omega jumped, grasping Dean’s wrist as someone knocked at the door.

Dean pulled away calling out to the janitor on the other side of the door, “Five more minutes, Jerry.” before bringing the omega in for another kiss.

It wasn’t his first time making out in the janitor’s closet. Dean had been to different schools, in different places, with different girls. Truman High was no exception. Usually he met Amanda, a blonde senior beta in the closet but ever since he turned alpha he started to crave the touch and smell of a sweet omega.

The door creaked open behind Dean letting light flood the small closet. The young alpha released the omega and spun around, his eyes wide at the sight of Amanda standing in the doorway.

“Amanda, hey!”

The brunette’s eyes peaked at Amanda before returning to Dean. She knew Dean and Amanda had a thing but he was an alpha now. Amanda’s eyes searched Dean’s for an explanation after she caught the omegas brown eyes staring at her.

Dean turned to the omega asking “Uh, Gettysburg address, 1863, right?” He then turned to Amanda who simply blinked back at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

The omega pulled her lips into a thin line. This was awkward. Shoving her hands in the back of her jeans pockets she bowed her head not daring to look at Amanda nor Dean as she exited the closet.

“History test next period. We're studying.” Dean weakly replied.

Amanda shook her head and spun on her heel. Dean frowned following Amanda out into the hall.

“Come on, baby. She means nothing to me. Don't be mad.”

Amanda spun around, her friends sauntering down the hall stopping behind her to watch the scene unfold.

“I'm not mad, Dean. I thought maybe... underneath your whole "I could give a crap," alpha bad-boy thing, that there was something more going on.” Dean stared at Amanda in disbelief. He expected her to yell at him, hit him, to do something out of anger. “I mean, like the way you are with your brother.” She shrugged, “But I was wrong. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool, but it's just an act. We both know that you're just a sad... lonely little kid. And I feel sorry for you, Dean.”

Dean’s gaze dropped briefly. He could see Amanda’s friends behind her whispering. People in the hall watching. He knew he was a sad lonely little kid. Despite the beta’s calm demeanor, her words cut him like a hot knife through butter. Maybe making out with the omega in the janitor’s closet was a cry for help. Sure as a teen alpha male his sex drive was high but he was also hot-headed and angry. He was looking for a reaction from someone, anyone.

Hurt and infuriated, Dean’s voice became cold. “You feel sorry for me, huh? Don't feel sorry for me.” Amanda scoffed, turning on her heel to join her friends. “You don't know anything about me. I save lives. I'm a hero.” Dean watched her blonde hair bounce with every step she took away from him. She was leaving. It was a stab to the heart much like her words, but isn’t that what he wanted? “A hero!”

The beta’s friends inspected Dean from head to toe scoffing.

“What?”

The three females raised their eyebrows at Dean pressing their lips into a thin line. He knew he saved lives, he didn’t need their approval. Any other day Dean wouldn’t have said anything. He would have kept his mouth shut about the family business like his dad insisted. Any other day but today. As the women walked away from Dean he noticed a few people lingering in the hall.

“What?!”

Sam shuffled down the crowded hallway, both hands clutching the steps of his book bag on his back. Between the mass Sam’s hazel eyes met Y/N’s Y/E/C. She waved Sam down and without missing a beat Sam pushed through the crowd to meet Y/N halfway.

“Good job buddy” an upperclassman called out. “Sam, great job with Dirk the jerk” another shouted as he slapped Sam’s hand. He could see Y/N high fiving a couple people from the other end of the hall and the corners of Sam’s mouth twitched upward. Sam wasn’t used to all of the attention. He finally felt normal, he didn’t feel like a freak.

Watching from the middle of the hallway Dean wanted to praise Y/N and Sam. To Dean, Y/N always seemed to fit in yet she chose to hang out with Sam and himself on occasions. He imagined this would be her life when they moved on from this town. It’s better to be popular in high school anyway. It’s for the best. They would be gone and she would be taken care of.

Sam was a different story. Dean was proud watching Sam fit in and he could see Sam getting out of this life, going to college, living the white picket fence life. Despite his happiness for his little brother, he still felt consumed by his rage, he felt like he was drowning. His life was crumbling around him and he couldn’t wait to get away from it all.

Walking through the hall, hands in his leather jacket Dean felt his phone vibrate. Glancing at the caller even though he knew only one person called his phone.

“Dad?” The hunt was over and John was on his way. Goodbye Truman. Dean was getting a chance to start over, to climb out of the hole he had been digging himself in. Dean sighed in relief, “Finally.”

Sam sat on the wall by the steps as Dean paced back and forth in front of the school.

“How’d Y/N take the news?” Dean asked?

Sam shrugged.

Y/N knew Sam and Dean were passing through town, they weren’t staying long. At least they weren’t supposed to. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months Y/N formed expectations in her head. She thought they would at least end the year together. She would get to sit next to Sam and cheer on with him as they watched Dean graduate. She thought they would spend the summer together, they would find a place to live permanently, Dean would go off to college and her and Sam would walk through Truman High’s doors once again next year.

Dean stopped pacing his hands in fists in his jackets pockets. “I can't wait to get the hell out of here. This place sucks.”

A horn followed by the unmistakable rumble of the 67 Chevy impala had Dean spinning around. As the sleek black car rolled to a stop Dean practically sprinted to the car. When he noticed Sam not following he called over his shoulder not stopping, “Come on, Sam.”

Sam huffed moving for the first time since he sat on the wall. He slung his backpack over his shoulder making his way to the impala. Glancing up at the window Barry waved weakly to Sam with a frown on his face. Sam smiled in return before climbing in the back of the impala. He would always think of Y/N, Barry, his teacher Mr. Wyatt and his time at Truman fondly, a time when he was normal.

Taglist: @vicmc624 @sesamepancakes

#alpha!dean x omega!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean #alpha!sam #dean winchester #sam winchester

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