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talltales · 4 years

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—THERE IS WHISKY IN THE WATER, AND THERE IS DEATH UPON THE VINE THERE IS FEAR IN THE EYES OF YOUR FATHER; THERE IS YOURS AND THERE IS MINE request by @jjinyounf!!

WARNING: character death, dark dark dark.

you can't run from fate.

her mother had told her so, and her mother before that, and before before before—a gospel truth passed through the generations like a beloved heirloom. she learns it as a child, and folds it neatly into the corners of her mind; tucked deep beneath things deemed more important.

there are whispers of a covenant that binds them to his will. though she has never questioned it, she feels the pull of it from time to time—walk not through those shadows, run home. run.

as a child, she heeds those warnings; thinks of them as her own thoughts, worries and fears. there is no curiosity, merely obedience. she outlives many who get lost in the dark, preyed upon by the shadows and the things that dwell within them.

you must have a guardian angel, says the neighbor boy's mother when dusk falls and he doesn't arrive for dinner. his pinwheel is found at the edge of the forest, standing tall amongst the dandelions.

you must, his mother says, distraught. she wears her resentment like a favored dress from that day on.

as the years pass, she learns to attribute it to a strange sort of luck—or an expressed distaste for girls of her particular kind. curious but cautious; uncommitted to the expectations placed upon her by the boys who insist on escorting her to the old grocery on saturday mornings.

perhaps, she considers, the beasts dislike the ones that are tentatively called witches—it is in it's own way a death sentence by itself. history, her mother says, tends to repeat itself.

though she doesn't understand exactly what those words mean, she learns to studiously avoid those boys and the lake in which women—the willful ones—are tried like common criminals and always found guilty.

she is good, on most days. but the voice can't warn her away from everything, she decides. when it gives warning, she pretends not to hear.

there is pleasure to be found in watching the stars shoot across the sky in the dead of night. she skirts the edges of the forest on her way to the highest hills in the distance. it takes the better part of an hour to reach her destination, but the air is cool against her skin and it's mercifully quiet.

though not for long.

the air shifts. she hears it—the crunch of dry leaves splintering in the distance, growing louder. the distance between one rattle and the next closes in, soon accompanied by a fevered sound—in and out. in and out. in and out.

breath. heavy and forceful; anticipatory.

run, calls a voice not her own, but her feet refuse to move and her heart has climbed into her throat.

wryly, she wonders if they'll still consider her a witch when they discover her corpse.

there's a pull, but she isn't caught in the jaws of some hideous beast. it's a hand, warm against the skin of her wrist. his grip is steel, and his eyes flash in the darkness—filled with some ephemeral light that she attributes to the glow of the moon.

"run," he commands with familiarity, while dragging her behind him in a certain path back to town.

a bone-chilling howl pierces the silence at their back. it propels her forward; drives her to squeeze his fingers as he leads her through the foliage and into the safety of the lamps circling the edge of town. no sooner than they enter the makeshift sigil, he turns on her.

"you're careless," his tone is sharp, gaze fixed upon her face with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. he speaks as if she's an old friend; his hold on her fingers is still strong, "you would've died."

"who are you?" she means to sound certain, but her voice falters on the last word. her confusion permeates—blooms like a night flower. her heart remains locked behind her tongue. twisting her hand out of his grasp, she tries again, "who are you?"

the stranger only hums, turning his face skyward—there is an odd sort of beauty to him, a solidity to him that she recognizes.

"i am no one," he answers softly, and his attention falls back on her. the fight has gone out of him. suddenly he seems far younger, shoulders slumped under the weight of something she can't see.

her alarm fades, replaced by quiet uncertainty.

she ignores it. if he had intended her harm, it would've been easier to let her fall to those foul creatures.

"well, no one... do you have a place to stay the night?"

he blinks, tilting his head in a way that would seem endearing were it not for the exhaustion that slips into his answer, "no."

"then follow me."

for as young as he appears, there is old knowledge contained within the look he gives her—

when she glances back at him, it vanishes.

—

for as long as he is there, the voice is quiet. she takes it in stride, and offers to show him around the small town that she calls home. it is a secret tucked away in the surrounding forests—hidden away from the beasts that roam beyond, unchecked. there are still elements of the world that existed before; the hood of a car juts out of a hillside in the distance, stained red with rust.

when she shows him, he merely nods, as if it's a story that he's heard a million times before. his attention, she finds, is dedicated to almost solely on her, for reasons unknown.

three days after their first meeting, he chooses a name. it comes as they observe the boys at the forest edge, firing their vintage guns at cans lined on tree trunks in the distance. marksmen, she informs him, is what they're aspiring to be. he hums as if he's discovered a secret—or he's already known—and declares, "you may call me mark."

and he chooses to stay.

with the passing of time, his stay in the bare-bones cabin behind her house extends into a permanent residence. he takes pleasure in tending to the fields between them, and inexplicably charms the perennials back to life after years spent in dormancy.

her mother watches him closely; with a dose of suspicion that never quite fades, even as the weeks give way to months and winter settles around them.

for his part, mark bears it with patience. he fills the empty spaces that her father might've occupied, or her brother, if he hadn't been lost before his second breath. his time is spent servicing the many objects around the house that have fallen into disrepair. she watches him stay busy most days—when she realizes that he enjoys working with his hands, she seeks out the forgotten electronics in the attic and presents them in a pile on the dining room table.

it is the first time that she sees him truly smile.

the next night, he kisses her.

he says nothing, but the light in his eyes is warm—and she suspects that if she didn't already love him, that she would have fallen in that moment.

—

when her mother slips into her room at night; grips her hands with white-knuckles and begs her not to give herself to him, she assumes it is out of fear of facing her own loneliness.

she has no intention of leaving, but the assurances she offers in return fall on deaf ears. fear has taken hold of her, if the shadows beneath her eyes are any indication.

she prepares breakfast in the morning while her mother sleeps, and delivers it to her bedside with a firm command to rest.

but she is never the same after that night.

as if he knows what ails her mother, mark looks on from the door of her bedroom more often than not. the sorrow twists his lips into a soft, thoughtful frown, though he says nothing when she breaches the topic; choosing instead to bury his face in her neck. if his grip on her waist tightens to the point of aching, she kisses his temple and hums softly into his hair until he calms.

only then does she follow him into slumber.

—

they marry in the spring.

the town itself seems to come to life with the chance to celebrate. flowers line the streets leading to the small park where they whisper their vows to each other under the rising sun. he is as stunning under the warmth of day as he is in the depths of the night, and she marvels at the ease with which he became such a vital part of her.

as if he'd been there all along.

she listens to her mother cry, and knows that not all of her tears are from happiness.

when she bears news of their pregnancy, he leans forward and kisses her so softly that the pressure of his lips barely registers. the smile on his lips is strangely bittersweet, and she wonders.

"i love you," he murmurs, holding the tips of her fingers between his own. the callouses on his palms are a comforting reminder of his tangibility, when his mind seems to be so far away.

"i love you," she echoes, watching him with new eyes.

her mother smiles, threads heavy hands through her hair and whispers congratulations before laying a kiss between her brows—

"remember today, my dear. your story must be told."

the first threads of doubt weave through her heart.

—

the day their son is born begins like any other. she rises in the morning and steadies herself on the dresser as she slips into her most comfortable dress.

her husband is already in the field, tending to the last viable crops before winter begins in earnest. he slips back inside and shrugs off his heavy coat before offering her a hand, "how do you feel?"

mark has always been quiet, but today his words emerge as a whisper. his attention falls to her stomach and the hand that rests at the top-most curve.

"i feel like he's fighting to get out."

he nods, coming closer to wrap his arms around her shoulders. he tugs her into him—holding tight, "i love you. i have always loved you."

and her eyes burn, because when he says it, it sounds like an apology.

—

her mother is there to guide her, when she goes into labor. she is a constant presence at the side of her bed, holding tight to her fingers and whispering prayers beneath her breath that she thinks no one hears.

her husband is absent.

it eats at her, even when the pain sharpens and steals her next breath. she curls her fingers into the sweat-soaked sheets at her side and focuses instead on bearing through it—if only to meet the precious soul waiting to take their first breath.

the litany of prayers at her side never cease.

she finds herself echoing them into the night.

when her husband appears, at last, she is cradling the sleeping babe on her chest—rocking him gently as he curls his fingers around air. his features have smoothed into the soft mask of slumber, and she can hardly resist the urge to kiss the dark, downy hair on his head.

"where were you?" she questions plainly, shifting the infant in her grip to hold him closer.

her reply is silence.

after a moment, she looks to the shadow occupying her bedside, lips pressed together and the beginnings of anger churning in her gut—

she stops short when she sees the despair etched upon his face; the glistening of tears sliding down his cheeks.

her heart stutters—clenches so tightly that she struggles for air. fear, her old forgotten friend, reacquaints itself in the tremors of her hands as she soothes her son before he wakes.

"what is it?"

she watches as his jaw tightens; as he searches for the words but fails to find them. his eyes remain fixed on the open window, filled with a strange light that comes from within.

"your mother told you of a covenant, when you were young."

confused, she shakes her head—

then pauses.

yes, she did. she thinks, but the voice is not hers. she swears that he's spoken, but his lips are still—pressed together firmly as he observes her, wearing his work clothes though he suddenly looks so out of place in them.

no.

"how do you know that?" her fingers curl into the soft, baby blue blanket swaddling the sleeping infant. she hopes, in some distant corner in her mind, that the pounding of her heart doesn't disturb him.

"for safety, one of your ancestors made a bargain for protection against the beasts that ravage your world." mark continues, and though his words sound like a distant recollection, his attention is fixed upon her. as if willing her to understand.

she feels the first tears slipping down her cheeks.

no. no. no.

"stop," her head shakes before she realizes that she's even moved—

don't fight me, and the words come not from his lips but from within her; from the voice she hasn't heard in years. since she stumbled upon him outside that forest. since he found her.

death at the claws of that beast might have been a more merciful fate.

"in exhange for the lives of her parents and siblings, and the protection of her every descendent, she promised me—"

her body tries in vain to fold in on itself; around the tiny bundle in her arms, "it's not true."

but she knows—sure as dawn—that there had always been something strange about the man she married; something otherworldly about the way he was, and this revelation had been unavoidable since the moment he'd told her to run.

since she was born being pulled to him and this conclusion.

fate wears many faces, and his will is undeniable.

"he has been promised," the oldest of gods tells her, moving to kneel at the bedside—and for a moment, he is the man she married with a passion for gardening and handiwork. his calloused hands bear the evidence of it, and his face, streaked with tears—

they bear the evidence of his love.

their son is promised. her brother, she realizes, had been promised. each of the first-borns. promised for the safety of their families.

"he doesn't even have a name," she whispers around the knot in her throat, choking on the last word as it escapes, "he's ours. he's our son."

she watches as mark's hand raises, fingertips brushing across the soft skin of his hand; reverent in a way that makes her cry that much harder. she tries to find the right words to sway him, grasps at every straw within her reach, "just stay with us. she promised him but you can keep him here. he's still yours. ours."

his other hand comes up to trace the line of her jaw, gentle—still, he says nothing. the ethereal glow to his eyes remains, a stark contrast to the humble form he inhabits, "we have a covenant."

"so break it," desperate, she loops her free hand around his nape and drags him close, pressing their foreheads together. red-rimmed eyes lock on his—"you love me, don't you? why else would you come to me like you did? save my life?"

mark smiles then, a rueful expression that twists her insides into a knot, "yes."

but it makes little difference.

covenants are sacred things, even in the world of gods—because nothing is without cost. without sacrifice.

she closes her eyes, giving way to the quiet and the lingering warmth of his fingertips on her skin—it is then that resolution comes, and with it, a grim acceptance.

"then fate, i seek another covenant," she breathes out, willing her eyes open—he looks back sorrowfully, and of course he knew her choice before she'd ever made it.

what a great burden to bear.

"i give my life for our son."

as he leans forward to kiss her, soft and mournful, the tears begin anew, "name him, and i will grant your request."

that is what she does.

and there is a new tradition—a new heirloom to pass through their generations.

#request #member + prompt #mark tuan fic #got7 fanfic

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perriewinklenerdie · 5 years

Text

So close (Thomas Mendez x MC)

Mother of the Year, Thomas Mendez x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! It happened. I fell down the Thomas Mendez hole, and I'm not resurfacing anytime soon. He refused to leave my head, so I did the only thing I knew. I wrote a fic :D It's fluff and humor and fun times all around

My MC’s name for MOTY is Reena and her daughter’s name is Thalia <3

As usually, here’s the link to AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20731958

Enjoy! <3

-----------

Being a single parent has never been an easy task. Between taking care of her and work, there was hardly ever any time for Reena to focus on herself. Thalia was the single most important part of her life, she would do anything for her little princess, and never in a million years would she complain about her busy schedule. She was the light of her life, and no matter what circumstances made her come to life, she was, is, and always will be her mother’s priority.

When Reena found out that her daughter had an opportunity to get a scholarship and study at a good school, she didn’t even stop to think twice about what it would mean for both of them. She wanted what was best for her, and that school would provide both the education she wanted, and the education and opportunities Thalia needed to grow. It was supposed to be plainly for Thalia, they moved there for Thalia, and yet it became clear very quickly that they stayed in Goldcliffe for… something more. Someone more.

Reena would do right about anything to protect her daughter, and when she heard she was being bullied, she saw red. The whole situation was quickly cleared out, and the mean one became a friend. Luz Mendez was the only person Thalia talked about when she came back from school, two little girls getting closer and closer as each day went on. With these two wanting to spend all their free time together, it was no surprise that outside of school, they expressed the same interests. And so, since kids were hanging out together, parents were doing the same. Reena and Thomas.

Thomas was experiences with life, and not exactly in the best way. Fate didn’t spare him, he had his fair share of pain and loss, laid out on his path only to get him to trip up and hit the ground. Losing his wife was enough to make anyone give up and close off, but here he was, doing everything he could to ensure that Luz had everything she wanted and needed, that she was safe, that she was loved and protected. Much like Reena, he would stop at nothing to make his daughter’s dreams happen.

It just so happened that this dream was to spend a whole afternoon and evening with Thalia. And Thalia made a deal with Levi to bake sweets and work on her science project. Neither had anything against Luz joining them, and with Reena’s reassurance, Thomas dropped his daughter off at Levi’s apartment. Deciding that since he was already there, he might as well check on the brunette that seemed to never leave his mind for long. His hand fell to his side as he waited for the door to open, and a moment later he was met with the sparkle of her green eyes.

“Thomas, hi! I see that you dropped Luz off?” Reena’s wide smile greeted him as she leaned on the door. He shot her what he hoped was a bright grin, taking a small step towards her.

“Hi, Reena. Yeah, she wouldn’t let me not drop her off, it was all she could talk about.”

“Do you want to… come in? Or like-“ she started saying when the door on the other end of the corridor swung open, revealing two small heads.

“Daaaaad, no! You’re way too close! I’m big now, I don’t need you here with me. Take Thalia’s mom to our house, watch TV or something.” Luz complained, accompanied by Thalia giggling in the background.

Two adults looked at one another with an amused look on their faces and a hint of a blush on their cheeks. Raising their hands up in mock surrender, they nodded, and with a very satisfied look on their faces, Thalia and Luz disappeared behind the door again. Reena turned to look at Thomas.

“Um, give me five minutes? I’ll grab a purse and a sweater, and we can get going.” She stammered a little, making a few awkward movements with her hands before turning to go to her bedroom.

Thomas walked over to the wall, keeping his eyes on the photos in the frames. Little Thalia with some sort of an award, smiling brightly. A little younger Reena, looking into the camera with a glint in her eyes. Both of them holding hands. He felt like he was intruding, looking into the past of two people that made such an impact on his life in such a short period of time. Almost as though he asked for it, he felt a soft touch on his arm, and a sweet scent of vanilla taking over his senses. He jumped a little, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked him slowly, her voice low and filled with happiness as she looked at the photos too.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.” He spoke as though he didn’t hear her, turning to face her. She shook her head, smiling at him gently.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind. Now, come on, before our princesses come here and decide to kick us out by force.”

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

Thomas held the door open for Reena to enter, turning the lights on. The sun has set some time ago, and it was getting darker and colder by the minute. She was there before and she was quite familiar with the layout of the rooms, which allowed her to navigate to the living room, leaving her purse on the chair in the dinning room. He went into the kitchen, his bare feet stepping softly on the floor.

“Do you think I can interest you with some wine?” he turned towards her, holding a bottle of what seemed to be an expensive beverage. She nodded her head, rushing to explain.

“Levi volunteered to drive Luz here after they’re done with the project. I’m sure he’ll drive me back, I don’t see why we can’t enjoy a glass of wine.” She sat down on the couch, watching as he took two glasses into his other hand and joined her in the living room. Reaching for a phone, he put on some soft music, flowing gently in the background as they fell into a deep conversation.

“I must say, it’s adorable how you’re willing to learn how to take care of Luz the way you do. Not many fathers are up for that challenge.” She grinned at him, observing as he smiled sweetly, looking down at his hands.

“She’s all I have, I’m not going to let her want for anything.” He muttered shyly, twisting his fingers together. She reached over, stroking the back of his hand with hers delicately.

“She has everything she could ever want. I mean, how could she not, she has you as her father.” Reena’s grip on his wrist tightened a little, expressing her full support and trust in him and his abilities.

“Just so you know, I still don’t really get the whole braiding thing. It’s just… so complicated.” Thomas admitted, shrugging helplessly, making her laugh.

“Your notes in your legal pad didn’t help you, huh?” she teased him, letting her hair fall over her shoulder slightly.

“Well, someone didn’t let me finish them.” smirking, he leaned in, his voice dropping a few notes. For some unknown to her reason, she felt blood rushing to her cheeks.

“You need another lesson? We have a whole evening to ourselves, we can work on your… braiding skills if you want.”

“Luz is not here.” He breathed, his eyes intensifying as he watched her. She shook her head, reaching with her hand to release her brown strands from the ponytail she made a few hours before.

“You’ll train on me.”

Before he could say anything, she moved to the floor, sitting before him, her back to him, her legs crossed. She missed the way his eyes widened in horror, the way his body stiffened, terrified to even move. Confused by his lack of reaction, she leaned back, her head brushing against his legs as their gazes met.

“Is something wrong?”

“I just don’t want to hurt you. And based on my experience, I am fairly sure I’ll do something wrong.” He explained, brushing a piece of her hair off her forehead.

“If you don’t try, you’ll never learn. Come on, show me what you remember and we’ll go from there.” she winked at him, leaning forward, brushing her hair to the back.

Moment later she felt his touch, one of the softest and most soothing she could imagine, as he grabbed a chunk of hair on the top of her head, dividing it into three sections. He started working, pulling a little more than he should, and from what she could feel, he was doing well. But then, something went wrong, he seemed to have gotten lost, unsure how to proceed. Reena thought it was a good thing he couldn’t see her face and her small wince as he pulled, definitely harder than he intended.

“How lost are you? Honest answers.” She laughed softly, her eyes closed.

“Is it that obvious?” he breathed apologetically, trying to undo his mistakes. Her hands flew to the back of her head, touching his palms as she guided him, detangling her hair and moving the strands in practiced moves to form a braid.

“See? Not that hard. Here, let’s reverse the roles.” She stood up, setting her hair lose as she turned to look at him, her brow raised slightly. “Come on, get on the floor, I’ll show you how it’s done. Your hair seems to be long enough for me to braid it.” Reena stroked his hair softly before he moved to sit on the ground, making place for her on the couch.

She put her legs on either side of his back, allowing him to rest against the couch, granting her easier access to his head, touching his chin with her hands to lean him a little to the back. He complied, smiling to himself. Reena started working, her fingers braiding his strands expertly.

“You’re good at this- ah…” he spoke quietly, a low moan interrupting his words as she pulled a little tighter on his hair to make it fit into the braid. She halted in her tracks, unsure what to do and how to proceed. “Um- sorry, I-“

“Don’t worry about it, I like it when someone plays with my hair too.” She pinched his ear playfully, detangling his hair and brushing it into its previous position.

From then, the conversation flowed back onto the safe territory, neither of them mentioning the slip in his resolve and self-control. Wine made them bolder, caused them to sit just a little closer to each other, his arm draped over the back of the couch. This near her, he could feel the heat of her body, radiating from her softly. The music suddenly changed into a very slow ballad, causing Reena to stand up, grinning widely.

“I love that song! And that means that you…” she pointed towards him, curling her finger slowly, beckoning him to join her. “… have to dance with me. And I won’t take ‘no’ for answer.”

He took her hand without hesitation, standing up and letting her lead him into the middle of his living room. He twirled her around, bringing her into his embrace, letting his hands linger on her waist and stay there. Reena wrapped her arms around Thomas’s neck, pulling herself closer to him as they began to sway to the rhythm of the music.

Time seemed to have stopped, like it always did when they were together, so close he could lose himself in the feeling of her body next to his, in the sweet scent of vanilla that calmed his senses and made his heart race at the same time. From where he was, he could see the golden specks in her eyes, could count all the freckles on her face, see the small scar on her cheek. It felt like forever since he felt those butterflies in his stomach; what is more, he was sure that after losing his wife, he would never feel that way. Yet here he was, a mere thought of Reena made his mind go blank, the smallest of her touches made his stomach twist and turn. All of a sudden, he cherished all the moments he spent with her, and he couldn’t wait until the next time he would see her again.

Music guided them around the room, slowly swaying, their faces closer than ever before. Reena hugged herself to him, smiling to herself at the sense of calm that washed over her, the feeling of peace and safety that she experienced every time he was in the same room as her, not to mention when they were closer. He was important to her, she cared about him, but she didn’t want to overstep, knowing how much he loved and missed his wife. She would rather be his friend than to lose him, so she allowed him to set the pace for them.

His grip on her tightened, pressing her closer as he hugged her back, taking a deep breath as he hid his face in her hair. The song that was playing in the background was known to him, he personally put it on the playlist, so he knew when the melody would peak, giving him the perfect opportunity to lower her into an elegant dip. Her hands grabbed onto his shoulders and she squealed in surprise.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.” he muttered into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

They remained in this position for a few more seconds, neither of them breathing, the tension electrifying the air around them. As he pulled them back to stand up, she fell right back into his embrace, their nose brushing against one another. Their breaths caught, eyes locked as they waited for the other to make a move. His eyes dropped to her lips, her green irises mirroring the action, and then, in a fraction of a second, they made the same decision to lean in, making their lips meet.

Thomas had to admit, even if only to himself, that he has thought about what it would be like to kiss Reena on more than one occasion. The idea of it was so potent to him, that it invaded his dreams, waking him up in the middle of the night. Now that he had his lips pressed to hers, he didn’t have to wonder anymore. They were soft and warm, tasting like blueberries and wine they were drinking. He was getting drunk, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol they’d been drinking.

The kiss was delicate and slow, gentle and careful, both of them afraid not to overstep the imaginary line they both drew. Their eyes fluttered shut, taking in the feeling of bliss, of relief at their desires coming to life. After what seemed like forever, they moved, falling into each other like waves onto the shore, their lips moving against one another with more confidence. Each moment together made their feelings fly higher, kiss turning from sweet and gentle into passionate and intense.

Thomas walked Reena to the nearest wall, pressing her up against it as their lips touched, time and time again. Their position reminded him of a situation, only few months back, next to his fridge. If Luz didn’t come back down when she did, they would have kissed then and there. Now that he was looking back at the moment, it’s good that they didn’t. They weren’t ready then, but they were more than ready for this now.

Reena’s hands tangled into his hair, pulling on the strands gently, causing him to groan in the back of his throat. His hands tightened on her hips, his lips pressing against hers more urgently. He got lost in the feeling, completely distracted by her whole being, unable to register the world around him. It was only a few eternities later that he noticed how her fingers worked his hair, almost like they had purpose in their movements.

She was braiding his hair.

He broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as their eyes remained close. They took their time to catch their breaths, laughing happily at the sensation. Their hearts came back to their normal paces after a couple of minutes, and that was when he asked.

“Did you really braid my hair while kissing me?” he tried to keep his voice steady, but failed miserably, unable to not burst out laughing. She joined him, pressing a short kiss to his cheek.

“I’m nothing if not a multitasker. And besides, I had to prove to you that it’s not that hard. If I can do it while you devour me, you can do it when nothing is distracting you.” she teased him, leaning back a little to look him in the eye. She saw amusement and a hint of playfulness in his eyes as she moved past him to get back to the couch.

“Is that a challenge?” he pulled her right back into his arms, hugging her from behind. Her body shook as she laughed.

“Sure thing. Just don’t sue me cause I’m better. It would be not fair, and not the best example for your daughter.”

They settled back on the couch, sitting closely and holding hands. The high was gone, but feelings lingered, both determined to make it work, day by day. As the evening came to a close, they leaned onto one another, falling into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms.

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

Luz opened the door to her house after ringing the doorbell at least ten times. Lights were turned on, so she knew her Dad was home, and she knew Thalia’s Mom was supposed to be with him too. Levi was standing next to her, Thalia was there as well, and after a moment, the door flew open as she used her key.

Music was playing quietly as they entered the living room, looking around for their parents. Thalia moved to the couch, stopping suddenly, raising her hand.

“Luz, look!” she exclaimed, whispering, waving her fingers for Luz to join her. She tiptoed to stand next to her best friend, curious.

Her Dad was sleeping, hugging Thalia’s Mom tightly. She was sleeping too, they were both smiling, maybe they were having good dreams? Luz’s eyes moved to her Dad’s hair, noticing a nice braid there, and she immediately knew that Reena must have had done that.

“Thalia, look what your Mom did to my Dad.” Two girls laughed at that, turning to Levi. “You don’t have to stay, we’re going to go to sleep now. Thanks for letting me join you today, it was so much fun!”

“Yeah, thanks for that!” Thalia exclaimed and immediately regretting it as the other girl shushed her urgently, looking back to their parents quickly.

“No problem, Rocket. And Luz, it was a pleasure to meet you. If you two ever need help with science projects, just ask. Have a good night, girls.” He sent them both a friendly smile and went back to his car.

Thalia looked at Luz. Luz looked at Thalia. Their smiled said they were up to no good, and that was indeed the case. Luz went to grab her camera, taking a few photos of her Dad and Thalia’s Mom, making sure to focus on the braid in his hair. Neither of them would even know those photos existed…

…for now at least.

----------

As always with a new book fics, I’ll tag everyone as usually, and if someone wants to be added or taken off the list, please let me know <3

Tag list: @paleweasels, @lilyofchoices, @hopelessromantic1352, @ahumanmishap, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer, @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture-blog, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @hazah, @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie,@choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @yesimacerealkiller, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h,

#thomas mendez #mother of the year #moty #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #fic #thomas x mc #thomas mendez x mc

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faierius · 6 years

Text

In His Shoes (24. Voices in the Dark)

Chapter Nineteen (Clouded Minds)

Chapter Twenty (Once, There was Happiness)

Chapter Twenty-One (Intermission with Intent)

Chapter Twenty-Two (Of No Consequence)

Chapter Twenty-Three (Loss of Self)

“You want her to learn? You’ll take her with you.”

“Commander, I don’t think—”

“I don’t care what you think, Gelida. You’ve been letting her play around for nearly three years. Think of this as her exam. She survives, she’ll be official.”

“What? She’s not ready yet!”

“I’ve watched her. She’s ready. No more arguments, Gelida! Go help your squad prepare.”

Stiff and formal, Timorea snapped off a salute. “Yes, sir!” Clenching his teeth, he turned on his heel and marched away. Fists tight at his sides, he swallowed hard and struggled to keep himself calm.

“I don’t have time to deal with this right now,” he hissed to himself, ducking into a seldom-used room. The headache he had been nursing for days was steadily growing in intensity.

A stabbing pain buckled his knees as he shut the door behind him. Clutching his head and squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed through the agony. Explosions like fireworks colored his vision behind his eyelids and he cursed out loud.

“Why must you torment me during the most inconvenient moments?” he demanded of the screaming in his skull. Sometimes this screaming left him with things he didn’t want. Things like snippets of conversations he never had, with people he never met, in places he never set foot. Sometimes when the screaming ebbed, he was left completely empty, devoid of everything but a seething black hatred.

The hatred scared him more than anything. He couldn’t imagine existing on that singular emotion, yet a voice deep in his heart told him it was the real way of things. A voice which had been with him his entire life, always taunting, always waiting to strike when he was weakest. A voice he told no one about, not even the man who raised him.

Timorea always believed the unwanted images and sounds were part of his enigmatic magic. Energy stolen for life given. His healing talents weren’t much, but one could not get something for nothing. If he took small fragments of memory in exchange for their health, so be it. But the darkness living buried in his chest had no such explanation.

It took long moments for the pain to recede back to a dull roar. Long enough for his sister to come looking for him, only to find him in his less than presentable state. He didn’t hear her enter the room, only felt her blissfully coo hands on his cheeks. She whispered softly, shushing him though he wasn’t sure he even made noise.

Finally able to open his eyes, he blinked against the dim light. He couldn’t speak just yet, his tongue thick in his mouth, and lips sticking together in their dryness.

Eyoralin peered down at him, brow creased deeply in concern. “Your head again?” she asked, voice low and soft.

Timorea made a clipped sound of agreement in his throat. Though he hadn’t told her the whole story, the headaches came too frequently in the last few years to flat out lie to his sister. The last one was a migraine so intense, he’d been bedridden for three days.

“Should I call for a doctor?”

“No,” he croaked, grabbing her wrist. “It’ll pass. Please, just sit with me a moment.” Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

Keeping her eyes locked on her brother, Eyoralin sank to the floor beside him. Hooking her arm around his shoulders, she tugged him against her side so he could rest his head against her. Idly petting his oiled hair, she watched him carefully.

“Things are falling apart,” Timorea muttered, filling the long silence.

“How so?” Eyoralin asked, tipping her head to try and meet his eyes.

The man tried to cover his flinch with a shrug. “My plans for you,” he answered too quickly.

“Dictating my life again, dear brother?” Eyoralin teased, poking the man.

“Guiding, love. If I were dictating, do you think I would allow the ridiculous engagement party you’re throwing?”

Eyoralin’s rich laugh vibrated through them as she placed a gentle kiss on his temple. “You have no choice, Timorea. Pops already approved. Besides, Beto is looking forward to it.”

Timorea rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. The romantic sap.”

“Yet who was the one to propose?”

“It’s unkind to tease your sibling, love.”

“In that case, you’re a sadist.”

Lips curling into a smirk, Timorea put a fond hand on his sister’s belly as he sat up. “Yes, well, can’t let you get soft after I spent so long hardening you up.” He heaved a sigh, his expression slipping. “The Commander wants you on this training exercise. He’ll assess you and see if you’re fit to serve the Crown.”

“Finally. I’ve only been doing this without pay for how long?”

Timorea’s brow twitched at her tone. “Lyn, this is the worst time for this.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You say that like I have no idea what’s going on in my own life.”

“Clearly you don’t! If you did, you would do the smart thing and stay home.”

Careful not to smudge her makeup, Eyoralin rubbed a hand over her face. “How many times do I need to repeat myself, Timorea? I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

“You think they’ll allow you to work right up to the day you give birth? I’m surprised Thanra is permitting this.”

Eyoralin shook her head, chuckling disdainfully as she got to her feet. “I don’t even have the words to describe how idiotic you are.”

“Pardon?”

“All you need to know is I am quite capable of handling a little camping trip beyond the wall. I’ll reconsider my leave once I start to show. Honestly, try not to be too odd about it, please? Other than yourself, Thanra, and the staff at the clinic who performed the procedure, no one else even knows yet. We’d like to keep it that way for a while yet.”

Timorea hummed his disapproval.

“Now, shall we go give everyone else a hand? Everyone’s excited to leave the city for the first time.”

The man huffed. “I’m not even sure why this is necessary. All sorts of terrain can be found within the Wall, and the Crownsguard are supposed to guard the Crown. Can’t do that when we’re nowhere near the royal family.”

“Oh, quit sulking. Do you want your unit seeing you like this?” Eyoralin teased, opening the door.

“Hush, you.”

Grinning, she patted his cheek. “Head feeling better?”

He nodded. “It’s tolerable for the moment.”

“Glad to hear it. No time to nurse a headache when there’s orders to carry out. If it makes you feel any better, we aren’t being singled out for this training. From what I understand, it’s supposed to be a refresher for the entire staff.”

“That is what the Commander told me, yes. We just get to be the first group.”

“Well, we do have the younger members.”

“Maybe so, but I can outperform most of the people here.”

Eyoralin rolled her eyes. “Cut it out. You’re behaving like a petulant child.”

“Am not.”

She blinked at him.

“I am simply stating facts.”

“Well, stop stating facts and start acting like the leader you’re supposed to be.”

Shaking his head, Timorea straightened his jacket and fell silently into step with his sister. The dark voice continued to sing its song, caged and muffled in the recesses of his heart. Only this time the negativity sounded more like a warning. One he should have heeded.

***

Describing the feeling of nothing was not something Noctis’ mind could do. It could barely comprehend it. But that was what he was currently experiencing. It was almost a dull numbness in his chest, spreading through his body. It sapped his energy, his thoughts, his emotions…He was neither content nor restless, simply floating in the vast nothingness. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing, or his heart was beating, or if his eyes were open. He simply…was.

What he wasn’t, was alone.

Millions, perhaps billions of other inhabited this nothing as well. He could sense them, feel them nearby, though he couldn’t see them. What a bizarre concept it was, to feel more of people or things he couldn’t see, than himself.

“Ah, your grandfather would be ashamed to know his bloodlines ends in you.”

Though Noctis knew he should have been startled by the sudden voice, the nothingness prevented it.

“It’s a shame we have to meet like this, Highness, but my sister has her claws in you. She wants your sympathy. Not me. Oh, no. What I want, dear Prince Noctis, is your misery.”

“Who are you?” Noctis managed to ask, his voice thick and deep to his ears.

In a blink, a face appeared before him. The face flickered between human and not, features randomly taking on daemon properties before settling back into the more appealing face of a young man. His pale skin shone in the blackness surrounding him, and his curly red hair floated about his head like they were underwater.

“You wound me, Highness. Former Crownsguard to King Mors, Timorea Gelida, at your service.” Now a full body, not just a floating head, Timorea bowed with a deep flourish. When he straightened again, a dark grin twisted his face.

“Release us,” Noctis growled in his most commanding tone.

Timorea’s sinister chuckle echoed around them. “Now, now, Highness. You hardly have a leg to stand on here, and I’m in the mood to play.”

Noctis grit his teeth, shifting into a defensive stance. He barely registered he was once again in possession of his body as he extended his hand to summon his weapon. No weapon came.

“Oh, how cute. You think you can defend yourself from me.” Timorea flicked his wrist toward Noctis and tilted his head to watch as though he were observing a particularly fascinating specimen.

A sharp, intense cold washed over Noctis, beginning as a tiny pinprick in his heart. Violent shivering gripped his entire body and a red haze settled over his vision. With much difficulty, he lifted his hands to see branches of blood red frost crusting his skin.

Noctis blinked, attempting to clear his eyes and Timorea appeared mere inches from his face. Reaching out, the man tilted Noctis’ chink with one finger.

“Did you know if your heart stops in a dream, you cease to live in the waking world? Only this isn’t a dream, dear Prince. This is the Void. You’re in our playground, now.”

Noctis’ scream was not contained by the nothingness of the Void.

#surprise chapter #ffxv #writing #final fantasy xv #noctis #ignis #gladio #prompto #body swap #gladnis #promptis #angst #ffxv ocs #faierius writes #in his shoes

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kpop-wetdreams · 6 years

Text

Parallel Lines

[one shot; time traveler!AU]

Author: Kpop-Wetdreams

Pairing: Hyungwon x OC

Rating: Angst [SFW]

Warning: Violence

Author’s Note: I’ve taken some creative liberties with my interpretation of time traveling but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This piece was inspired by Monsta X’s comeback, Dramarama, and the song, Parallel Lines, by DVBBS & CMC$ featuring Happy Sometimes. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,238

An afterimage is known as an image that continues to appear in one’s vision after the exposure to the original image has ceased. That’s exactly what I’ve been chasing. No matter what I do it never seems like I can catch up to him, but then again I never wanted to catch him. We were created to moderate and police the time streams, a step in the evolutionary line and advancement of man. He was created first. The successful result of many years and millions of dollars in research. A time traveler. His genes had been compatible with the serum that they had created. He was able to travel through time with the watch without repercussion and without conditions. He was created to help minimize the wait between uses of the watch. The watch had been created to allow government agents to jump between timelines and alter events as necessary and as directed. However, with every jump, it took a toll on the human body and the watch needed time to recharge for the next use. But that was never the case; not with him. He jumped seemingly without any toll on his body and he didn’t need any downtime before he was able to jump again.

At first, he had been obedient. Followed orders and directions as given but the longer he was under the employment of the government, the more time he spent doing their bidding, the more he felt that time travel shouldn’t be restricted. It was something he believed that should be shared and it would be helpful to a large populous of people and not something that should be kept in the shadows though he had to acknowledge that there would also be great dangers if it was made available to the masses; so reluctantly, he stayed hoping to achieve something that one day, could be used responsibly and available to everyone. He swallowed his opinions as they continued to experiment on the serum and finally created me. They had learned their lesson from him and corrected their mistakes with me (not that they’d admit to making any mistakes, to begin with). Unbeknownst to him, they had created me with a limited number of jumps that would ultimately lead to my expiration, a way to keep me under control.

It was interesting. To know who you are and how you operate all your life to suddenly have things become altered and abruptly have a whole other avenue of life open to you. My alterations had manifested itself in a different form than his. At first, they had thought I was to be categorized as a failed experiment since the jumping still took a toll on my body as well as the not being able to jump through multiple timelines, one after the other. I was assigned to assist him in his everyday life. As much as he was watching over me and observing for developments in me, I was observing and watching and learning from him. It was in these moments that we had to ourselves that I had fallen in love with him. The way his eyebrows creased when he was studying a particularly different scenario or the shape of his lips. At first, I had found them to be a very particular shape. Shaped like a shallow M, I wondered how he managed to keep liquids from accidentally dribbling out to one day wondering what they would feel like pressed against my own.

Despite the turmoil and the state of the world and the tension in the political arena, we managed to fall in love with one another. It was easy really. We understood each other better than anyone else ever could. We learned about what we each were before becoming who we were now. We learned about why we had entered this project. We had both lost someone and felt that somehow, by being this, doing this, we could prevent that pain for someone else. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that I could save this pain for everyone but still, the stubbornness in me made me try. In him, I found my salvation. In him, I found that I could be more than I was. He didn’t complete me. That would imply that I was incomplete prior to meeting him. He made me more. Gave me more than I thought I was capable of receiving. He came to me so unassumingly that I was able to accept from him something I had been terrified to receive from anyone before him. Unconditional love. Someone that was able to accept me for who I was no matter what I did before, no matter what mistakes I would make after.

One of my favourite memories between the two of us will always be the night he finally kissed me. I felt like there had been a sexual tension growing between us for weeks though neither one of us was ready to admit it. Working together in close quarters became both a burden and a guilty pleasure. I could distinctly remember on more than one occasion I had ‘accidentally’ brushed my body up against his or just positioned myself in a manner that would give him the most subtle peek of my flesh. I loved the way his breath would hitch in his chest, the way he would grow rigid and move like he was made out of tin. It would always make me giggle. There had been one particular night where we had been going over some research and I genuinely had accidentally knocked over some papers. I immediately apologized and started to gather the papers back for him when he tugged my upwards by my wrist. His voice low as he asked me if he was supposed to believe this was an accident too before he kissed me and left me breathless. The way his lips molded against my own lit a fire of desire between us that had been smoldering for weeks. Once he finally managed to untangle himself from my arms, he kissed my nose and told me that that was no accident.

Another afternoon when we were together looking over some other research papers, that I remember lamenting about why I was less ‘special’ than he was when we were created the same way and he had reminded me that we weren’t. The serums that had been used to create he and I were different. I had pouted playfully, sitting on his lap turned towards him and flopped against his chest. I knew it was silly to think that I was less than him but he had never once hesitated to remind me that I was the way I was for a reason. I never told him but I knew I was different from him. Where he had been able to create a more powerful version of the watch, I was able to see the various timelines overlapping and it was something that was gaining traction within me; I could feel it. My alteration wasn’t as obvious as his but eventually he did notice. We both knew that as soon as he noted the change, the success, things would change. We most likely wouldn’t be able to have as much time to ourselves anymore if any… the flight risk would be too high for them to risk. But as the days went on, the change in me and my abilities that had seemingly thought to be nonexistent began to manifest and cause changes not only to me but our environment.

The first time my alteration actually affected me well, it was rather odd. My mind was drifting off and I wasn’t focused on anything in particular when I started to see multiples of the scientists walking about us. They were all seemingly the same people but they were all doing different tasks. It was like looking at a photo that had prolonged exposure. Images overlapping. When I had concentrated, I was able to pick out a particular timeline and found myself there instead of where I was. It had been such an easy slip that I hadn’t even noticed. He was very concerned when I had come back to him. He was startled when I disappeared without a trace.

After that day I was injected with a tracker that I couldn’t remove on pain of death. He had adamantly opposed the injection of the tracker but they silenced him on the promise that something worse than death would await me if he tampered with the tracker and I was tagged.

Strange things started to happen more frequently around us. When he and I were in the same room for too long, things started to warp. Gravity would waver and we would create a large magnetic field onto ourselves. It was then that it was discovered that we were two of the same anomalies. We were never meant to exist in the same timeline but because of the tampering of man trying to play the creator, here we were warping the very fabric of time. Twisting, stretching, scrunching the fabric until it was almost unrecognizable. But we were magnets. We wanted to be close to each other. Out of the entire population, we were the only two alike and akin to one another. Altered from our original states, we had become something more yet those that had altered us believed our humanity to be lessened somehow. Somewhere along the line of the experimentation, we had strayed from humans to possessions. Possessions that belonged to the State to serve a purpose; we were mere tools in their eyes. Expensive tools but tools nonetheless.

The day that the rift was created my heart broke. We had seen evidence of it before when we were left alone for too long together. The shifts had been small but now it was undeniable. No matter how much we wanted to stay together, it wasn’t meant to be. If we were to stay together like this we would bring everything we had hoped to achieve for humanity crashing down. So he left. His form faded before my eyes. Screaming and crying I ran towards him but only ended up running straight through his afterimage and crashed through to the other side and hit the cabinets. I didn’t know how long I sat there before someone hauled me up and locked me away. It was a special cell that had been created for he and I, separate of course. These cells had been created so we couldn’t jump through them and we were contained. Sirens and lights blared, screaming, alerting our supervisors that an asset had gone missing. Not only had a time traveler escaped, but one with substantial knowledge of the project and one that would be able to recreate the watch.

I had tried many times to help him recreate the watch but with his alteration and came the explicit knowledge of how to create the watches and how the jump truly worked. His watches were unique. There was a little bit of him in every watch that he created. His blood. Somehow, it was stronger than the normal battery inside which is why they had watched him so closely.

I sat staring at nothing in my cell. There were no images here. There was only me and my current timeline, one where he didn’t exist in anymore and I didn’t want to be there either. For the first time, I found myself wanting to jump but unable to so I closed my eyes and did what other normal people had to do. Recall a memory and bring it forth. Hoping that the memory was strong enough to dull the ache in my chest where my heart was. I was forced back to my reality with him when a manila folder hit the surface of my desk in my cell. I knew what was inside. It was his picture and the orders to bring him back, dead or alive. I was an extremely effective asset, one that had never failed them before and they expected no different this time.

Once I was given my orders, I was released back into the world. I knew what he felt like. I was able to find his signature… his unique frequency and lock onto it to find where he was. The thing was that this frequency would lead me to where he was but not tell me which timeline he was in. The timelines were always interacting. Shifting, blending, merging and diverging and he was able to slip through these moments seamlessly. I prolonged my search for him, buying time while trying to come up with a way to free both myself and him from being kept from each other and what we wanted to do. There were days where we were both standing in the rain. In the same place, able to sense each other but separated by time, space, and something intangible.

I knew he could sense me like I could sense him but unlike me, he couldn’t see me. It was like I was drinking the world’s most bittersweet coffee over and over again. Sweet in the way I could see him, almost reach out and touch him. Commit his face and features to memory again for the millionth time. His dark eyes, the way his hair fell into them when he had been walking at his usual brisk pace. The lips I wanted to kiss again and again. Then the bitterness came when my hand reached out to cup his cheek, to feel his warmth, only to be met with the nothingness that the current timeline offered and broke my heart a little further. I could see him but I could never be with him. But still, I stood in the rain watching him. He stood there, eyes trained to where I was standing but I knew for him, he was only looking out into the darkness. My tears rolled down faster and harder than the rain that soaked through my clothes but I stood rooted to the same spot. It wasn’t until he moved and walked through me that I fell to my knees; now staring out into the darkness.

The supervisors had been lenient with my slow pace with respect to the retrieval mission but their patience was growing thin. They were starting to send in other agents. Men in suits that weren’t subtle at all. I did my best to keep him out of harm’s way, always out of the path of those men. I saw first hand what he had done for those that he had deemed worthy of receiving the watches. He had helped friends reconnect, the prolongment of a lifelong battle for self-betterment, and even help provide closure but it seemed like no matter how far he ran, the men in suits were always on his heels. I knew if I could track him, they could too.

It was starting to happen one by one, as the men in suits repossessed the watches. They were bringing an end to an immortal rivalry of a friendship that had transcended time. Separated friends that just wanted a few more moments together and sent them back to their own respective timelines and closed the door in which they had used to see each other. Out of the three scenarios my love had tried to help, only one was given a new ending. I didn’t know if it was a happier ending but it offered the soul that had been caught in limbo, closure, and a second chance at life for the one that had been lost before.

It was after I saw an ending to these scenarios did I finally appear behind him. It was raining just like those many nights I had spent watching him. He turned around smiling at me and held out his umbrella.

“It’s finally time that you showed yourself.”

I couldn’t bear to hold myself back any longer as I ran towards him, crashing into him. His umbrella fell with a clatter to the ground as his arms wrapped around me and hugged me to him just as fiercely like I might slip away from him this time.

He’s lost weight. I find myself realizing with my arms wrapped tightly around him. We are able to stand like this for a moment before I hear them coming. The sounds of footsteps descending on us were more than I had ever heard before and I realized, I had been a fool. Just as they had been watching him, they had also been watching me. I led them right to him and now they came in numbers greater than I ever thought possible. Our eyes darted around and it was unmistakable. In the dark night, there were men dressed in darker suits ready to take him back into the custody of the government. As much as I tried to deny it, I always knew it would end like this.

We were made different, he and I. I had chased him for too long, jumped too many times… my time was coming soon. My expiration date loomed and I knew there was only one way for him to leave, to escape, and that was without me.

The men ran towards us and I forced myself to concentrate, to see the different timelines. The sirens that blared overhead meant nothing compared to my determination to see to his safety.

“Put your hands where we can see them. Do not attempt to jump. If you attempt to jump we will open fire.”

I felt his arms tighten around me and his lips brushed my own. A sob tore through my chest. He kissed me fiercely and I almost lost my resolve but as the men got closer, I pushed. A startled sound escapes his lips as he fell backward and away from me. His arms flailed, desperately reaching out to me as if to pull me through with him but I had taken a step back, shaking my head, out of his reach. If I went with him like I so desperately wanted to, they would always be able to track me, to find him and he would be put in danger over and over again.

“No! ______!” He screamed as the sound of gunfire opened around us.

“We’re parallel lines Hyungwon. We were never meant to intersect but I am thankful that we were given a chance to. I love you. I love you Hyungwon. Live well for the both of us!” I screamed out to him as he fell through.

I didn’t feel the first bullet that pierced through my shoulder and shot out cleanly. It wouldn’t be much longer until I was crumpled on the ground, a warmth bloomed throughout my body only to have the cold chase it as fiercely as I had loved the man that had gotten away.

In the end we were just parallel lines, he and I. We were never meant to intersect and though we had managed to force the lines together through sheer force of will, we diverged in the end so that one of us could continue on. As everything fades to black I stare at an afterimage of two parallel lines that had managed to intertwine… the final image of his arms around me as my time runs out.

#kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #hyungwon fanfic #monsta x #monsta x fanfiction #angst #dramarama #time traveler #hyungwon angst #monsta x imagines #hyungwon imagine

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dawnstruck · 7 years

Text

dust and devils on my conscience

FMA RoyEd Pacific Rim 'verse. Non-linear story telling. [Read on AO3]

Mankind, like cockroaches, are tenacious little beasts.

A kaiju is a fearsome thing. Vast and vicious and near-on invincible.

But mankind, like cockroaches, are tenacious little beasts.

They thrive, they survive. Even if many of them die. Even if Death, for some, is a promise.

xviii.

The first tentative step a Jaeger takes is always the most exhilarating. Like a roller-coaster ride, only that you are the loop, the sky, and gravity all at once.

Roy used to love this. He thinks he might be able to love it again.

The water crashes around them and then they move forward.

Two truths. Roy wasn't in love with Maes and Maes wasn't in love with Roy.

That doesn't mean it hurts any less.

xiv.

“Revenge?!” Edward snaps. His metal fist beats against the metal wall to his right, just once, but it seems to set the entire room and everything in it ringing. “You honestly think this is about revenge for me?!”

The gleam in his eyes is furious. Roy does not flinch. He has faced down monsters. A mere boy does not intimidate him.

“Al and I have saved millions of lives,” Ed continues, “We've gone out there again and again, just like you and Hughes have, and you dare belittle me by simply calling it revenge?!”

It would be easy to make a quip about Edward's height then, but his rage is a curious thing. It makes him appear larger than he is and yet there is still so much of a child in him.

“If anything,” Ed adds and his voice is merely a whisper now, like the aftershocks of an earthquake, “You should get some revenge yourself.”

vi.

It's a strange feeling, to mesh your mind with someone so intricately and then have it ripped away within what is little more than an exhale. It's hurts and then it heals and then there is still that frayed edge, forever there at the seams of your conscience.

Roy resists the urge to pluck at the lose ends so he doesn't come undone.

xv.

“Sir,” Riza says, “Permission to speak openly?”

“Permission granted, Lieutenant,” Roy says, tiredly.

“Brigadier General Hughes enlisted to protect his family,” she says. She does not pull her punches, but she gives him a moment's notice to brace himself. “You owe it to him to continue doing so.”

Roy knocks back the whiskey and tries to drown the truth. But, like his nightmares, it swims.

viii.

The Elric brothers are the golden boys of the Jaeger program. They are young, handsome, congenial. Their sob story appeals to the public, both of them orphaned when a kaiju attack laid wreckage to the Australian coast line.

Their accents are as broad as their smiles and, all over the world, boys and girls alike collect posters and action figures of them.

Their Jaeger goes down somewhere close to Kyushu and, though official sources report them to be alive and stable, they do not appear in any morning shows for quite a while to come.

vii.

Riza outmatches him in the compatibility test. It's no surprise, really, but Roy cannot find it in himself to be disappointed. He's not sure he wants to let anyone into his head anyway.

It doesn't work with Jean or Heymans either. General Grumman pinches the tips of his mustache but does not concede defeat. He keeps sending other candidates at Roy, new recruits and seasoned pilots, but none of them are Maes, so it doesn't matter anyway.

iv.

Originally, they enlisted because it was the right thing to do and they took the test because they were curious. They hadn't known each other for long, barely enough to really call each other friends instead of comrades, so no one expected them to be drift compatible.

Their Jaeger is called Pyro Polaroid, a beautiful shiny thing, all gold and navy blue. Maes makes a fuzz after every battle, lamenting the scratches in the paint job as one would with a beloved old-timer.

Later, in his more macabre moments Roy thinks that maybe it was a good thing that Maes died because at least this way he didn't have to witness how Roy quite literally single-mindedly dragged Pyro Polaroid back to the shore and let her collapse against the cliffs. He didn't have to see her be decommissioned and ransacked for spare parts. He didn't have to watch Roy break just as efficiently.

ix.

The rumor reaches Roy when its subjects are already there. Then again, it's kind of hard to miss a giant Jaeger being flown into the base.

Roy doesn't have to guess who it is. The flaming red paint and black markings are enough of a giveaway.

Fullmetal Alchemist, despite the extensive damage she must have sustained, was a younger model and had thus been deemed worthy of repair. Similar things can be said for her pilots.

Alphonse Elric is being carted around the uneven floors of the base in a wheelchair, but his handshake is strong and his smile genuine.

“Looking forward to working with you,” he tells Roy as though it weren't unlikely that he'd ever walk again.

“Where on earth has Ed gone?” a young woman behind Al huffs. She has her hands on her hips and grease smears all over. She must be one of Fullmetal Alchemist's engineers.

“Probably making sure his baby is parked correctly,” Al replies, rolling his eyes. To Roy he says, “He's very particular about who gets to touch her.”

Who's going to co-pilot her then, Roy wants to ask but doesn't because the answer sure as hell is not Alphonse.

xi.

Edward fights as though he were participating in an illegal street fight, not looking for a drift partner. He's got his opponents on their backs in a matter of seconds and impatiently taps his bo staff against the floor mats as he waits for his next challenger.

“Come on,” he drawls. His skin glistens with sweat underneath his black tank top but morphs into scar tissue on his right shoulder. Somewhere in the crowd someone mutters how the automail gives him an unfair advantage. But drift compatibility is not about brute strength. It's about chess.

“Was that really it?” Ed asks now. His face is turned toward Grumman but his eyes are on Riza and her neat clipboard. She hesitates.

“There is one,” she says and when her gaze cuts over to Roy, Ed follows.

xxv.

The sunrise is made of seven colors, dyeing the sea and the sky. But the sun, the sun itself is bold and golden and almost bright enough to hurt Roy's eyes.

He does not look away.

xix.

They lose Arctic Briggs in the waves and Greed is rendered useless when Lan Fan is injured.

Ling gets her out, barely, and she survives, barely. Her remaining hand is red with her own blood as she clutches at Doctor Rockbell's bony wrist.

“Automail,” she grits out through the pain, “I can still fight. Give me automail.”

It took three years to get used to automail, one if you were as determined as Edward, but everyone knows that they only have days.

And yet, amid all the chaos and the destruction, it's easy to read Lan Fan's stubborn spite as hope.

“All right,” Doctor Rockbell says and gives a tight nod.

“Set the clock to zero,” Grumman orders and the bleak metal walls of the Shatterdome reflect his words like a mockingbird's song.

xxi.

Ed kisses like their staff fight might make one expect him to. Looking for openings, for weak spots, just this side of dirty. Roy matches him, kiss for kiss, and this is like their fight, too, this feeling of being alive, of being equal, of being in the right place at the right time.

xii.

Izumi Curtis coughs red blood into white handkerchiefs and observes Roy with narrow eyes.

Like him, she had once managed to pilot a Jaeger on her own. Unlike him, she had ended up with physical ruin instead of mental one.

“I found the boys in the rubble, hidden under the corpse of their mother,” she tells Roy what he has already heard on various radio shows, “I saw them grow old enough to enlist and I saw them nearly die at Kyushu. At some point you have to learn how to prioritize the world before your own fear.”

“I'm not afraid,” he says.

“Not of the kaiju,” she agrees.

xiii.

Roy tells himself he is merely embarrassed when he goes down the rabbit hole. He blames it on being unfamiliar with Fullmetal Alchemist and with how long it's been that he's been inside of a Jaeger at all.

He manages to jerk himself free, vaguely aware of the frantic voices breaking through his headset, only Riza's calm and reasonable. He does not look to his left to see Edward's face. He does not want his pity or his scorn. He does not want to think about how that boy has been inside of his head.

“I'm done here,” Roy croaks and runs away once more.

ii.

Roy flirts with show hosts, takes selfies with fans and ruffles little children's hair. He gives autographs and press conferences, wears tailored suits and debonair smiles. He's the bachelor, the playboy, the unattainable dream. Maes is the opposite, the family man, the goofball, the nerd, who makes dad jokes and shows off pictures of his family and his stamp collection.

They work well together, maintaining the perfect equilibrium of what the public wants to see. Dashing heroes, guys next door.

Maes does not talk about how Gracia silently cries whenever she has to watch him leave. Roy does not admit that maybe sometimes he drinks a little too much whiskey to forget the last trampled city and the corpses that came with it.

Instead, they are invited to dinner parties at the White House and appear on a sports car commercial. They are living the life, only that there is a lot of death involved, too.

xxii.

“We will pilot Greed,” Izumi announces. Sig is a mountain beside her, steady and silent.

“What?” Alphonse bursts out, “But you can't! Pinako said if you ever step foot into a Jaeger again, it's gonna kill you.”

Izumi smiles, fondly.

“Look around, kid,” she says, indicating the listless disarray of the Shatterdome, “If I don't do this, we are all going to die anyway.”

She looks over to Ed, catches his eye. His teeth are clenched and his arms crossed, but he holds her gaze. Then he gives a nod.

“Brother!” Alphonse protests. He looks very pale in the lights of his lab and it makes the red veins in his eyes even more glaring, “You can't-”

He breaks off, doesn't finish. It's the moment in which he realizes that he is not only going to lose his mentor but his brother, too.

“Oh,” he says, his voice tight with tears. But he must know that, one way or another, this was always going to happen.

“Don't,” Doctor Rockbell says evenly, never even looking up from her newspaper. Smoking is not allowed in the base but no one seems to have told her that and so she is puffing away on her pipe.

Edward, who had been feeding Den scraps under the table, sends her a withering look.

“It's the end of the world,” he says, “The least we can do is die fat and happy.” It's says it easily, evasively. They all know it might be over soon. He says it as someone who knows better than others. Better than most.

“Why are you still fighting,” Roy asks, not sure if he even wants to know the answer, “If you think it's the end?”

Ed's eyes, even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the base, are as golden as few living things should be.

“Because if I don't,” Ed tells him, “It's gonna be game over either way.”

xvi.

Drift compatibility, generally speaking, makes sense.

Olivier Armstong and Artyom Buccaneer make sense because he has been serving under her for years. Ling and Lan Fan make sense because they grew up together. Sig and Izumi Curtis make sense because they are married and still madly in love.

Roy and Ed, on the other hand, should not make sense.

Ed's mind is a flurry of contradictions. Smiles tucked into the corners of his loved ones, Alphonse, their mother, Winry, Pinako. Izumi with a halo of the morning sun, a dead kaiju at her feet and a defunct Jaeger at her back, Izumi pale and with coughs shaking her asunder. Snippets of Al's mind interwoven with his own. Brandings of the precise moment in which Al lost feeling in his legs, of when Ed felt nothing but the absence of his own limbs. Metal grinding against kaiju scales, metal grinding into Ed's flesh and bone, fusing with his skin. Weeks and weeks of sitting by Al's bedside, waiting for him to wake up. Months and months of being useless, useless, useless. Day after day of dreadful news, broken walls, broken bodies.

And watching, always watching, as Winry and the rest of the team sew Fullmetal Alchemist back into her former glory, some uneven stitches here, some scars there, and Ed knows that you are never just piloting with your partner but with your Jaeger as well. He'll brave the oceans with her yet again and even the idea of doing it without Al doesn't hurt as much as it ought to.

Revenge, Roy had thought, when it had always been so much more than that.

xx.

“Oi,” Ed says, flicking an automail finger against Roy's wrist. The impact reverberates through Roy's bone marrow. “I'm not fucking piloting with you if you're hungover.”

“We share our minds, not our actual brains,” Roy tells him from experience. Maes had never complained about sympathy headaches the morning after Roy had drunk himself into a stupor again. But he had given Roy steady looks, not necessarily disappointed, but lingering a little too long for comfort. Ed is doing the same now, though his eyebrows are pinched, his eyes somber.

“What would you like me to do instead?” Roy says, offering a skeleton of a smile. He and Olivier had never gotten along but she had been Alex's sister and Roy blames himself for his failure. Without her and Buccaneer piloting Arctic Briggs, humanity is one, two, a dozen steps closer to extinction.

“Dunno,” Ed says. He scuffs the heel of his boot against the floor, shivering slightly. He's wearing an oversized sweater to fend of the perpetual cold of the Shatterdome. Does he miss the Australian heat? Does he miss his arm and leg underneath the phantom pain? Does he miss his mother like Roy misses Maes?

“Dunno,” Ed repeats, “But grief's gonna fuck you over if you don't fuck it back.”

“And how do you...,” Roy says, tilting his head to the side in mildly drunk curiosity, “Fuck grief back?”

Edward grins, boyish and brave and full of bad ideas.

“You fight,” he says as though it were a gospel.

A moment of enlightenment and then Roy sets his glass aside. He prays.

xvi.

Roy, to his chagrin, estimated the Elrics. Not just Edward, but Alphonse, too.

There is more to them than sun tanned skin and the lucky coincidence of being drift compatible.

“I had to do something,” Alphonse says with red bleeding into his hazel eyes. Roy wrinkles his nose against the invasive smell of the kaiju brain on the slab, but Edward doesn't even seem to notice, fuzzing over his younger brother like a nervous bird.

“What did you see?” Grumman wants to know.

“Their world,” Alphonse says and then he explains.

xxiii. Sex, in its many forms, is a form of survival. On the one hand, there is procreation. On the other, there is the instinct to affirm life, the urgency of one's last moments.

Cheap whiskey, Roy knows, does not compare to orgasm, but Edward's eyes have the same color.

The boy has not done this often, Roy thinks. Too earnest to bed one of his many groupies, too busy to bother with anyone else. On the surface, Edward seems to consist of little but Jaeger, kaiju, and his pickpocketed family. Underneath that, however, sits a deep-rooted fear of pain and loneliness and abandonment.

So he lets Roy fuck him in the face of death and destruction, and Roy fucks him in spite of it. He puts no promises into his kisses, no reassurances, because he doesn't have any. Instead, he weaves solace into Edward's hair, gentle reminders that for now – for now – they are here and alive and in each others' arms instead of each others' heads. It's little and lacking, but it's all they have and that makes it precious.

Roy does not dream that night.

iii.

“Ah,” Maes says, when they are playing cards without any gambles, “What will you do? When it's done, I mean.”

He never seems to doubt that it would be done, eventually. That humanity would win the fight and that life would return to how it was before the first kaiju appeared.

Roy thinks of how Maes himself would probably leave the military and take up a desk job somewhere else, something that allows him to be with Gracia and Elysia, something that doesn't count down his days like the war clock at the Shatterdome. Tick tick. Reset. Tick tick. Reset.

Roy, however, is not like that. Roy sees the horizon only when there is a new monster appearing on it. Roy never plans beyond that.

“I'd like to watch the sunrise,” he says and reveals his hand.

xxvi.

Mankind, like cockroaches, are tenacious little beasts.

xxiv.

“You mad cunt,” Edward yells against the wind. His hair is already wavy with sea salt, even though it can't have been more than a few minutes. Logically, Roy knows it can't have been more than a few minutes, even though it felt like eternity.

The memories of passing through the portal are both hazy and knife-sharp at the same time. He entered another world, another planet. And, what's more, he almost died. But he didn't.

“Are you all right?” he asks, somewhat numbly. There are voices coming from out of the escape pod, questions on whether everything worked out on their end, promises to come get them soon. He thinks he can hear helicopters in the distance.

“All right?” Edward repeats as though the definition of the word had just been fundamentally altered. The combination of his accent and adrenaline slur the words until he sounds almost drunk on elation. “All right?”

His fingers are on the collar of Roy's suit, a tether that is tender and terrible at the same time. His clammy forehead presses against Roy's.

“This is General Grumman,” Grumman's voice drones out of the pod. He sounds tinny and far away. The moment remains untouchable.

“The breach is sealed,” he announces, “Stop the clock!”

Roy kisses Ed.

#fma #Fullmetal Alchemist #RoyEd #Pacific Rim #fanfic #mine

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