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lunarsands · 4 months

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ESMP S1 Fanfic - A Garden’s Path - Ch 2

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Bubbles the Dog, Sir Carlos, appearances by the rest of the cast of Empires SMP S1, featuring blaze-hybrid emperor TangoTek, and introducing: The Children of Mythland (specific characters to be tagged when they appear in each chapter)

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady/Smallishbeans, Shubble/Katherine Elizabeth, TangoTek & SolidarityGaming, Joey Graceffa/Xornoth

Tags: Empires SMP S1 AU, scosage, adoption, fluff, wholesome, so much wholesome fluff you would not believe, a bit of angst here and there, Sausage has a few nightmares for Plot reasons, acknowledgement of amputation (not sure how else to tag that but just in case)

WARNINGS: fantasy racism (human v elf), loss of parent (with adoption inevitably comes orphans), minor character death in a later chapter

Chapter Summary: The debut gala for the princes of Mythland proceeds and the boys meet a wide variety of rulers from across the Empires. Most of them seem determined to embarrass Sausage, Scott has a heartfelt conversation with Gem, and Xornoth spends some quality time with his nephews. Later, Azahar asks for a special favor, which his fathers are happy to provide in order to foster his interests.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter One ]

[A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates, irl stress and writer’s block hit me hard. I made a few revisions and moved some events to other chapters, hence the title change on this one]

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Chapter Two – The First Gala

The day of the gala, along with cooler autumn weather, seemed to arrive in no time at all. The castle was abuzz with activity as finishing touches were added to the ballroom and other guest areas, while the boys spent the morning half-excited, half-worried, until the early afternoon when it was time to get ready. Rather than simply have servants help them while they themselves got ready, Sausage and Scott were quick to don their own outfits, both wearing a mix of red and yellow in Mythland style with matching fur-trimmed capes. The main difference was elven-styled filigree on Scott’s clothes as well as his crown being made of ice crystals. They then assisted the boys.

The combination of Rivendell and Mythland styles had come together nicely under the tailor’s skillful eye; embroidered patterns of shining gold that mimicked Mythland heraldry ran down the front of each doublet, accompanied by matching gold buttons. The same pattern repeated along the outer seam of their leggings and encircled the top of their color-coordinated boots.

Sausage was currently brushing Elowen’s hair, wearing a glove over his prosthetic hand to avoid any strands getting caught in the metal joints. He hummed a calm, quiet tune while the boy fidgeted slightly. Azahar was reading the guest list and practiced saying the names of the rulers to himself. Scott had gone to greet an early arrival, so Sausage had taken over braiding the sides of the younger boy’s hair.

Elowen fidgeted some more. “Is it going to look okay if you do it? I never had my hair long enough before.”

“I promise I’ll make it look nice. I’ve been practicing on Dad’s hair. His looks fine today, right?”

Elowen nodded without thinking, subsequently pulling his hair out of Sausage’s fingers. Sausage smiled and gently picked up the strands that were intended for the braid. “Sorry, Papa.”

“It’s all right. We’ve got plenty of time. And Dad can fix it when he gets back if you like that better.”

“No, it’s okay.” The boy tried very hard to stop fidgeting, but once Sausage finished both braids and had moved to secure them together at the back of Elowen’s head, he blurted, “What if I trip? And fall? And break my crown? What if everyone starts laughing, and they think I’m a bad prince?”

“Oh, well… Then I’ll just have to throw them in the dungeon!” Sausage chuckled and walked around in front with the hairbrush to playfully dash Elowen’s fringe over his eyes.

“But – I – I don’t want that either! I’d be the one who broke something!”

Sausage now parted the boy’s fringe neatly to either side. “I promise you won’t be in trouble. Only people who are mean to my son on his special day will go in the dungeon.”

A voice familiar to the human but unknown to the boys called from the doorway, “Well, sounds like I had better make sure I get along with my new nephews, because I would really hate to have to stay in the dungeon every time I come for a visit. I have to hand it to you, Sausage, you’ve got a good grasp on the protective parent thing already.”

The purple-haired elf wearing Rivendell regalia who leaned around the doorframe grinned, only for Scott to push past him into the room. “If you keep going with the puns, I’ll throw you in the dungeon. Boys, this is your Uncle Xornoth. He likes to make jokes about Papa’s prosthetic arm. Xornoth, this is Azahar and Elowen.”

Xornoth stepped fully into the room and bowed. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I would have liked to see you sooner, but your Dad left me to run a kingdom by myself, so I’ve been very busy. This gala was just the break I needed, so thank you for becoming my brother’s sons!”

Azahar looked at Xornoth with uncertainty at his casualness while Elowen came over to join him. “Um, you’re welcome… sir?”

“Psht, might as well call me ‘Your Highness, King of Rivendell’! Uncle, uncle! You can call me Uncle, or just Xornoth, or ‘that silly guy related to Dad’!” Xornoth laughed for a moment, but when both boys continued to look unsure, he bowed again – apologetically. “I’m sorry, forgive me, I do like to try to keep the mood light. I am genuinely pleased to finally see you in person. Your dad has told me about you in letters and I was happy to get the invitation. I wanted to be the first here, and it looks like I made good time.”

He now more politely took Azahar’s hand and bowed over it, then did the same to Elowen, smiling softly when the latter tried to offer a brave smile. “Welcome, my nephews, to the family. I hope we can chat a little more later. I have to join the other guests, but I’ll see you out there soon. Don’t worry too much about impressing anyone today, and it’s okay to be nervous, too. If it would make you feel better, I can tell you all about what happened at both of your fathers’ debut galas—”

Scott took his brother by the elbow and pulled him toward the door. “That’s enough for now, I think. You can go.”

“Aw, Scott, don’t you want me to tell them about how much mischief little Sausage got into when he still had his original arm?”

“No. We’ll see you downstairs.” Scott closed the door in his brother’s face, then sighed.

Azahar covered his mouth to hide a laugh, while Elowen’s curiosity was now piqued. “Did Uncle Xornoth fight the dragon that ate Papa’s arm, too?”

“No,” Scott replied, “He was somewhere else at the time. But he helped us when we got home after that, so Papa could rest.”

Sausage cleared his throat as he removed the glove and set it aside. “Let’s not worry about that old story right now! It’s time for the present! And presents! Are you ready for some stuffy ceremonial traditions, and then some fun dancing and chatting with everyone?”

“Yes!” the boys chorused, trading hopeful looks, eager to finally see the crowns that had been mentioned.

Scott leaned in to comment to them, “Papa thought the ceremonial part was very boring at his gala. Uncle Xornoth wasn’t wrong about the mischief part.”

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Sausage protested. “My grandfather was a very boring man! I know there are supposed to be a bunch of official things that go along with this, but we’re taking the shorter route today so everyone can have a good time sooner!”

As they left the anteroom and crossed toward the curtained area over the staircase that led down into the ballroom, Azahar pondered to himself why Sausage had specifically mentioned his grandfather, and no other relatives. He kept the thought to himself for later; up until now he had been more concerned with the adjustment period and getting to know only his new parents, with less thought given to his possible extended Mythlandian family.

The grand staircase had three levels that wound downward until it reached the polished marble floor. Sausage peeked out through the curtains to see how the gathering below was going, then smiled back at everyone. “Okay, everything looks ready. Just wait here until you’re called. We go out first.” He sketched a bow to Scott, then held out his left arm. Scott smiled and hooked his arm around Sausage’s, then also gave the boys an encouraging nod.

Beyond the curtain, the herald announced, “Your hosts, Lord Sausage and King Regnant Scott!”

The two rulers exited through the curtain, pausing on the top step to give a brief wave, then walked down to the first landing.

“And presenting: Prince Azahar and Prince Elowen!”

Azahar quickly squeezed Elowen’s hand, then they copied their fathers as they stepped out. Scott and Sausage parted, waiting to either side for the boys to join them, then they all walked down to the next landings. On the final landing awaited two attendants who held cloth-covered red cushions. It was here that Scott moved to the side so that the boys had center stage with Sausage, who turned to the attendant on the left and lifted the cloth.

Upon the cushion sat a gold filigree crown with a shield-shaped ruby in the center, stylized swords crossed over it in protective symbolism as well as serving the practical purpose of holding the gemstone in place. Sausage held up the crown then lowered it onto Azahar’s head.

He then turned to the other attendant. The cloth was lifted to reveal another filigree crown with a six-sided pale blue agate in the center, this one with snowflake-shaped details keeping the gemstone centered. Sausage lifted it and then placed it over Elowen’s hair, nestling it just right where his braids were secured.

A ripple of applause flowed through the crowd. Elowen seemed about to shy away, but Sausage took his hand with another encouraging smile. Scott saw it as a cue to step forward and take Azahar’s hand. They both used this as a way to guide the boys to face the ballroom, then raised their joined hands and bowed. The applause continued, then the kings moved down the rest of the stairs with their sons.

Xornoth was already waiting to the right, clearly trying to contain his grin to an acceptable level. Sausage and Scott halted on the last step as the other elf bowed. The herald called from the landing, “The Monarch of Rivendell, Xornoth!”

“Good evening, Your Highnesses. It is a pleasure to meet the young princes.” Xornoth snuck in a wink and whispered to the boys, “Again, as it were. We’ll hang out after you get through the guest list.” He straightened and subtly glanced over his shoulder where other rulers were lining up behind him.

Scott and Sausage nodded in polite accord, then Xornoth meandered over to the other side of the staircase. He accepted an offered glass of chilled cider and casually watched the rest of the typical proceedings as the herald announced each ruler in turn.

“The Codfather, Jimmy, of the Cod Empire!”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” Jimmy gushed as he bowed then looked the boys over. “This is real! You really both became fathers!” He grinned incredulously at Sausage and Scott, then composed himself. “Ahem. Greetings from the Cod Empire, young princes!” he announced in an exaggerated formal tone, then added quietly, “You make sure to give these two lots of trouble. Do it for me, your Uncle Jimmy!”

“You’re not their uncle!” Sausage hissed quietly, “Get out of here, Jimmy!”

The Codfather bowed again but also traded grins with Sausage as he moved aside.

“Blaze Emperor Tango, of the Tek variety!”

The boys couldn’t help staring at the flame-haired man, whose crown appeared to be made of floating staves that seemed almost molten – or, at the least, were glowing. “Ohhh, these are princes! They’re like mini-kings! I get it now!” There was glee in Tango’s red eyes with their closely-matching red sclera as he leaned closer, then he sharply drew back. “Oh, sorry, I’m forgetting the overworld etiquette. Hi! Nice to meet you! Greetings from, ummm, the Burning Dark!” He started to bow, then took another step back and bowed fully, avoiding any of his flames getting too close to the royal family. After they nodded politely back to him, he jogged off after Jimmy.

“Count fWhip of the Grimlands!”

“Hi, hi! Hello, young princes! Sausage, I can’t believe you pulled this off, it’s so fancy! Good to know you haven’t broken my best work while running around playing, as I’m sure you’ve been doing!” fWhip gave a wink then said in a more serious voice, “I’ll take a look at it later, just in case. I can only assume you haven’t broken it yet.”

Sausage made a shooing motion with both hands to prove the prosthetic one was working just fine. As fWhip began to move away, Sausage leaned between the boys to mutter, “This is one of the parts I hate. It’s boring standing here, and you have to be polite while listening to all sorts of nonsense like that. I think it’s easier to just chat out on the floor if someone has something to say, instead of all this blah-blah-blah.”

Scott nudged him, then outright pulled him back into place. “We can complain later. Do I really need to tell you to be the one to behave, Sausage?”

The human laughed behind the back of his hand, then cleared his throat. “No, no. I’ll set a good example. Serious time, boys. Well, serious but polite.”

“The Wizard GeminiTay of the Crystal Cliffs!”

Gem’s eyes twinkled as she stepped up. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Azahar and Elowen! You look like such a proper family standing together like this! I hope Sausage hasn’t been embarrassing you too much with his recklessness. Sausage, you better not be getting them involved in your recklessness, either!”

Sausage huffed. “Is everyone just going to poke fun at me this whole night? This is a special event for my sons! You stop embarrassing me in front of them! Now go tell everyone behind you to not bring up anything else! My god!”

Gem laughed at his supposed outrage. Encouraged by her reaction, Elowen found some of his nerve. “Yeah, don’t pick on my papa! He’s been super nice to us! And he makes sure we don’t do anything dangerous! He only lets Azahar use the practice swords, and—”

Gem gently laughed again, then bowed to him. “I believe you, Prince Elowen. And I expect you to be just as outspoken when you come to my school for further magic lessons.”

Realizing the outburst might have been out of line, Elowen shrank back a little, but Scott put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him.

“PearlescentMoon of Gilded Helianthia!”

“Hello, boys,” the farmer queen greeted, her tone warm but mischief in her eyes.

“Pearl,” Scott said warily, “I know that look of yours. You’re up to something.”

“Why would I be up to something?” she replied with a cheeky smile.

“You brought them battle axes or two-handed swords, didn’t you, Pearl?” Scott accused flatly, although the corners of his mouth betrayed amusement.

“Well, it’s never too early to consider their favorite type of defense,” Pearl explained. She smiled at each of the boys in turn. “That aside, it’s a pleasure to meet you. If Sausage ever gets too soft on you with training, you can come battle with me.”

“Um,” Elowen replied, “I’m learning magic. I’m not old enough for real swords anyway.”

“Thank you, Auntie Pearl,” Azahar said, deciding to test out the familiar title even though this was the first time they had met. “Maybe we can talk about it after I move up from practice swords.”

“Calling me ‘aunt’ already! That’s honestly very sweet of you, Prince Azahar. We can definitely talk more in a bit, and I’ll give you some tips on the weak spots in your dads’ fighting styles.”

“Pearl!” Sausage scolded, “Didn’t you hear what I told Gem? And just because I lost my sword arm doesn’t mean I have weak spots! Come on, now!”

He continued to grumble as Pearl went on her way. Scott patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’re not bored now.”

“If I didn’t have to stand here, I’d go get some food.” Sausage then whined, “Can we get rid of this tradition, too, in the future? This part isn’t fun, right, boys?”

“Actually,” Azahar said with some mischief of his own, “It kind of is.” Elowen covered his mouth with both hands to hide his laugh.

“Oh, fine,” Sausage responded with a gusty sigh. “Since it’s for you, I’ll let everyone keep teasing me. I bet they’ll tell you all sorts of stories about me when I’m not around, anyway. Just remember, your papa is a brave adventurer!”

Pixlriffs offered a laugh, too, as he stepped forward despite their discussion drowning out the herald announcing him. “That is what I’ve heard.” He, at least, bowed low. “Your majesties. It’s lovely to meet you, Prince Azahar and Prince Elowen. I see bright things ahead for the future of Mythland with such lively young people ready to follow in their parent’s footsteps.” He leaned in to whisper, “Although, maybe be a little more careful and don’t lose a limb on your journey.”

“Not you too, Pix!!” Sausage squawked.

The Copper King grinned. “This could be a new tradition for you. Keep Lord Sausage humble so he doesn’t start bragging so much at parties.”

“I’m taking notes,” Sausage warned. “And so far, the guest list for the next party is getting shorter! Unless the boys want to invite someone, so you better be nice to them, at least!”

Azahar whispered to Elowen, “I think he really is going to throw people in the dungeon.” Elowen giggled, but when Pix was literally overshadowed by the next person in line, the boys took on looks of awe as their gazes went up, and up…

Elowen was so stunned that he blurted, “G-Giant blue fish lady!”

The equally overshadowed man with a green streak in his hair standing next to the smiling sea queen corrected, “Giant blue axolotl lady, actually.”

The herald’s announcement made it over their chatting this time. “Queen Lizzie of the Ocean Empire and her husband, King Joel of Mezalea!”

Lizzie didn’t seem to mind the mix up. “Hello, tiny princes,” she said, sounding a little awkward, herself. “It is nice to meet such good new additions to the Mythland monarchy. I wish you well in all your endeavors.” She bowed without even reaching low enough for them to see the top of her head.

Joel followed with a bow of his own. “Well, I don’t think I can beat the formality of that! Hello, lads, nice to meet you. Remind your dads to tell you how rich Mezalea is!”

“Joel,” Scott said with a patronizing smile, “Rivendell is known for its gold as well.”

“Scott, we’re not in Rivendell,” Joel fired back. “What does Mythland have? Iron. You know what’s pretty common? Iron. Gold is rarer and more beautiful! Also, if we’re going to talk Rivendell, there is wool. You know what wool is if you try to build with it? Susceptible to fire. What does Mazelea have? Terracotta. It doesn’t catch fire and comes in just as many colors as wool, and—”

Lizzie quickly interrupted to rein in her husband. “Now, now. No arguing between empires today. We need to set a good example for these potential future rulers. It wouldn’t be good to make enemies when neither my empire or yours have an heir yet, Joel.”

Sausage resisted the urge to step between Scott and Joel. “I think enemies might be a strong word. A little friendly competition between empires is fine, right? Mythland does well with imports of dark prismarine and terracotta, after all!”

Joel sighed and muttered, “Right, right. I was only saying that Mazelea has rich culture that these nice young lads might like to hear about.” He held a hand out to Lizzie regardless of actually being able to reach her hand. “We shall take our leave since we are taking up too much of your time at the moment. Come along, dear wife, we shall sample some of the food.”

The royal family watched them walk away with mixed amused looks at Joel’s parting tone.

The boys’ attention was next drawn down as the herald announced, “Guardian Shrub of the Undergrove!” Neither of them had met a gnome before, nor a fairy as Katherine closely followed.

Scott glanced around when it seemed Katherine was the end of the line. He murmured to Sausage, “Where’s Joey? I know he sort-of falls under ‘other’ on the invitations, but he should still be following ruler obligations and giving greetings.”

“Um. I think he got a little distracted by something else.” Sausage held his right hand up to block his left from everyone else’s view as he pointed to the other side of the staircase, where Xornoth and Joey were chatting away over drinks. Sausage uttered a short giggle. “Maybe some things don’t change—”

Scott quickly elbowed him to shush him, but no one else noticed their exchange since the boys were busy marveling over Katherine’s wings.

“So, you have them all the time?” Azahar was asking. “You don’t need a magic tattoo or flight gadget?”

“Nope,” Katherine answered, fluttering her wings so that they could see how they were different from the bird-like wings created by elven magic. Shrub had remained to watch the demonstration.

“Th-They’re really pretty,” Elowen stammered, internally hoping he wasn’t saying anything out of line.

Katherine smiled at him. “Why thank you, Prince Elowen.” She then snuck a glance at Shrub before stepping aside to be facing Azahar, while Shrub moved to face Elowen. They curtsied at the same time, then Shrub asked, “Would your highnesses do us the pleasure of having the first dance with us?”

The question – or perhaps being officially addressed in such a way – broke through Azahar’s sturdy calm and now he was the one to stammer. “U-Um, we would – we would be…” He looked to his parents for a cue, but they were distracted by Xornoth and a winged man who hadn’t been announced by the herald, but had the bearing of someone important.

Or self-important. He was currently complaining that since he hadn’t been let to the front of the line, seeing as how he was such a great ally to Mythland, he found it insulting to have to stand as last in line.

Azahar mustered up a serene smile and placed one hand on his chest, sweeping the other out at his side as he bowed. “We would be honored, your ladyship, your guardianship.” He straightened and extended a hand to Katherine. Elowen stared at him for half a second, then hastily copied him, ending with a hand held out to Shrub.

The movement of the boys heading out to the middle of the ballroom with the two leaders beside them seemed to be the perfect signal for the musicians to start the dance set. The sudden rise of a violin almost drew Sausage out of scolding Joey for not simply lining up at the same time as everyone else then maybe he would have been further up in the line and not at risk of having insulted his sons by not properly presenting himself, and Sausage had half a mind to throw him in the dungeon for an hour or two—

Further interruption came when Xornoth reached between the arguing pair to offer his hand to Joey. “If I might have this first dance, dear ruler of The Lost Empire?”

Joey tittered, feigning bashfulness. “Oh, my. Why yes, dear Monarch of Rivendell, I would be delighted.”

Scott and Sausage traded looks as if both were trying to hold in an outburst of laughter. They were – fortunately – distracted from their secret amusement by the approach of Pearl and Gem. Pearl simply grabbed Sausage by his left hand and hauled him toward the dance floor, while Gem took the politer, formal way by curtsying to Scott then holding out her hand. He also accepted and they followed the other two.

Sausage took note of Azahar and Elowen seeming to have a handle on everything alright on their own. Then he grinned at Pearl. They soon somehow managed to turn their dance into aggressive battle stances despite the tempo of the music.

Scott kept an amused eye on Sausage as much as he maintained a watchful one toward the boys, but so far it looked like they were having fun. From what he could tell, both Katherine and Shrub were accommodating the young elves’ inexperience with formal dances.

Meanwhile, Gem was being patient with his distracted state. She kept her palm pressed against his despite the swivel to his head. “They’re doing just fine,” she assured him. “I think you can relax a little. The rest of us are just as happy for you, and no one will get upset if they literally step on someone’s toes.”

“It isn’t the rulers I’m worried about,” Scott replied, finally returning his attention to her face, where a sympathetic smile awaited him. “I’m worried how either of them will react if that happens. I think Azahar can handle it, but Elowen gets nervous in crowded places full of strangers. He knows these are all responsible leaders here, but he has only just met everyone, and—”

“Scott. Calm down. Out of everyone here, Katherine and Shrub are probably going to have the most patience and kind words for the boys. Shrub knows how precious every child can be, and Katherine knows how best to nurture fragile life. Now, I’m not saying anyone in particular suggested they ask for the first dance, but there might have been some discussion ahead of time…”

Scott gave her a relieved smile. “Thank you, Gem. Maybe Sausage and I were more nervous about this than our boys were.”

“I could tell by how antsy Sausage looked during introductions.”

“I think that was just Sausage being Sausage,” Scott said with a chuckle.

“Has he been doing alright throughout this? No issues with the boys being too curious about his arm?”

“Sausage improvised in the moment and told them a dragon had eaten it. They were impressed that we fought one alongside our friends Gem and fWhip. No particular details about the dragon, of course.”

“Of course,” Gem agreed in a murmur. She quickly scanned the area. “I’ll pass that along to fWhip, but you know we’ll—"

“I know,” Scott cut her off as Jimmy and Tango happened to twirl too close. “I appreciate it, Gem.”

She nodded and smiled with a measure of bittersweetness, aware of how the children weren’t the only ones a secret was being kept from.

They finished the dance by bowing to each other, then Gem slipped away through the crowd of changing partners to find her brother. Scott turned to look for Sausage, but ended up with Xornoth holding up an outward-facing palm to him. They shared a grin and made exaggerated bows to each other before taking up positions to await the music.

Meanwhile, Jimmy had sidled up to Sausage, but it was merely to cut in and whisk Pearl away. Sausage took the moment to skim the crowd and check on his sons; he saw that they were now standing with Pix as Katherine and Shrub took their leave together. He smiled in relief, since it looked like the first dance had gone well for the boys.

Then he abruptly found an enthusiastic Tango popping up in his line of vision. The blaze hybrid started rambling about how amazing everything was, and that he would love to have the honor of dancing with one of the party’s hosts. Sausage agreed with a grin, happy that the newcomer was enjoying the social life of the surface world.

Three dance sets and some chatting with various emperors later, Azahar and Elowen stood by the grand staircase taking a break while simply watching the adults continue. Xornoth wandered over with a plate of tiny pastries and sat down on the steps beside them. “Hello again, nephews. How are you liking the gala so far?” He held the plate out to them, inviting them to help themselves to some desserts.

Elowen took one but before biting into it said, “It’s really fun! I thought it might be scary. Well, it was scary at first, being up on the stairs with everyone looking at us… But everyone has been nice. I’m not worried about messing up as a prince anymore.”

As he ate the pastry, Xornoth reached to pat him on the head, although being careful not to disturb his crown. “I’d say you’ve been very princely so far.” He then glanced to Azahar for his thoughts.

“It’s very different from what we were used to in our village back home – back in Rivendell,” Azahar replied, thoughtfully gazing around the ballroom. “The only thing we knew about royalty was what was in storybooks.” He then grinned at Xornoth. “No one said silly things about the kings in those stories. Everyone treats Papa like they know he gets into trouble all the time. But they’ve had good things to say about him, too – and about Dad. So, I feel like I’ve been able to learn from this, making it more than just a very fancy party. It’s been nice to meet so many different people from other empires. When I get older I’d like to go see all the places everyone is from, and hear their stories.”

“A fine goal,” Xornoth replied with approval. “Perhaps one day you could be Mythland’s ambassador.”

Azahar rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t know yet if I want a… royal position like that. Dad said I can just be a kid for now and not worry about having a job as a prince.”

His adopted uncle nodded as he munched on a pastry. “Wise words. My brother isn’t half-bad at this parental guidance thing.” He offered the plate to them again.

After taking one and chewing it pensively, Azahar inquired, “Do you… mind if I ask what you know about Papa’s grandfather? He hasn’t talked about any other family much. This was the first we had heard of him. And… if it’s okay… yours and Dad’s parents, too?”

Xornoth smiled gently. “I suppose I can tell you a little. I’m not sure how much of it is my place to tell; your papa might share the stories with you when he’s ready.” He placed a splayed hand against the center of his chest. “Our parents went on a diplomatic mission to another elven kingdom across the world, leaving me in charge as eldest son. Now, as for the Infamous Z. Kielbasa – the ‘Z’ is silent – he was very strict about proper behavior and tradition, which is probably why your papa is so mischievous…”

He regaled them with his assorted knowledge for over half an hour, including little hints about Sausage’s adventures, and was just about to share embarrassing accounts of Scott trying to get a handle on his ice magic when Joey sauntered over.

“Hello, Xorny… I was wondering if you’d like to dance some more – with me.” The ruler of The Lost Empire then blinked as if only just now realizing Azahar and Elowen were there. “Oh, riiight, these are your… nephews. Look, I’m not good with children, okay? But, um, it is nice to meet you, I guess.” Joey took the plate from Xornoth and pressed it into Elowen’s hands. “Here, have more snacks, and… have fun over here. Bye~”

Xornoth found himself being pulled to his feet and back toward the dance floor. He managed a small wave, which Azahar returned while Elowen stared after the pair as he absently ate another pastry. “That was… kind of weird.”

Azahar laughed and grabbed the remaining two pastries before Elowen devoured them all. “I think that parrot-man has a crush on Uncle Xornoth.”

“Is that what a crush looks like? How can you tell?”

“Just a guess.”

The two princes went back to watching until Shrub came over and asked Elowen to dance with her again. Azahar entertained the thought that she was being considerate of how the younger boy would be comfortable dancing with someone close to his own height. Azahar himself turned down an invitation from Pearl, who nodded in respect and looked for someone else who was available.

Azahar then wandered over to the group of musicians and stood where he figured he might be the least obtrusive as he observed the way in which the violinist brought forth melodies from the strings.

He got a little too caught up in it, because he didn’t register when the set changed to a slower tempo, nor did he pay attention as dance partners switched to a majority of the romantic partners in the group – until Elowen began tugging at his sleeve while saying in a hushed voice, “Azahar! Look at Dad and Papa!”

The older boy looked to where his brother was indicating. He saw Scott and Sausage in the middle of the floor with a hand on each other’s waist, their other hands clasped together, and dreamy smiles on their faces as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Azahar smiled softly. Elowen leaned against him as they kept watching, enchanted, then he whispered, “If the other thing was what a crush looks like, I think this is what being in love looks like.”

“Yes,” Azahar agreed. “I think they love each other very much.” He hugged Elowen around the shoulders with one arm. As the set wound down, he reached for Elowen’s hand and stepped out onto the floor. “Come on,” he said with a persuasive smile. The two slipped between the other couples and came to a halt where they could beam up at their parents.

Sausage glanced at them first; he removed his hand from Scott’s waist and held it out to Azahar. Scott then did the same with his hand held toward Elowen, and as the musicians switched to an upbeat set, the four of them danced together.

It wasn’t clear who started the chain, but soon all of the others had linked hands and were dancing in a circle around the royal family. Xornoth broke away from it to put himself between his nephews, and he smiled with fraternal love at his brother while mouthing the words, “Here’s to a new future.”

~*~

After another round of official traditions in the form of bidding each guest a good night, the boys took their leave to get ready for bed. Azahar held his crown between both hands, getting a better look at it. He gazed at the swords crossed over the jewel before placing it in front of the row of books on the dresser. “I forgot to ask if there’s a proper way to store these for the night. I don’t know what Papa does with his crown.”

Elowen giggled. “His doesn’t look like it would be comfortable to sleep with it on.” He held his crown up so Azahar could put it next to his.

The older boy gazed at the two crowns side-by-side and smiled softly. “It’s almost like we’re in a fairytale of our own. Two little boys from out in the countryside chosen to be princes of a foreign land.”

“We could write our own story and put it in a book!”

“Maybe someday. Let’s wait to see what other adventures we have. You’ve got a chance to become an amazing ice wizard – unless there’s something else you’d like to do?”

Elowen hopped up onto his bed and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not really. Dad said there is a lot to know about using magic, and I know it’s gonna take me time to learn all of it! What about you? Do you wanna do something besides learn sword stuff?”

“I was thinking of something… but I guess it can wait…”

Elowen leaned back on his hands and regarded his brother critically. “Azahar, are you nervous about something?”

“Um, what makes you say that?” The older boy tried to be casual as he adjusted the position of his crown on the shelf.

“I just… kinda get this feeling, like… you’re acting in a way I’ve never seen you act before.”

Azahar chuckled lightly. “You’ve caught me. Well…” He sat down on his own bed. “You know how Dad has his magic, and Papa is a good sword fighter? I’m thinking of something we haven’t seen them do, so I’m not sure how I would learn, or if it would be a bother because they like to spend time with us with magic and sword lessons.”

Elowen needed to think that one over. He eventually nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

“Maybe wait until I ask them so we’re not both disappointed,” Azahar admitted sheepishly.

Elowen jumped down and ran over to hug Azahar around his middle. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll say yes! You did a really good job at being a prince today! You could even ask for it for your birthday!”

Azahar hugged him in return. “I hadn’t thought of that. That’s a good idea. Thanks, little brother.” They parted and grinned at each other.

“You’re welcome, big brother!”

~*~

Azahar waited to make his request for a solid three weeks before Elowen egged him on enough to finally ask. He chose one of the days where he and Sausage were having a lesson – and, he had to confess, one where Azahar threw himself into it with unexpected ferocity due to nerves. When their practice fight ended in a draw, father and son took a moment to rest beside the weapons rack before Sausage stowed his blade and took out two drying cloths, tossing one to Azahar so he could wipe the sweat from his brow.

Sausage patted at his own face, then disconnected his prosthetic to allow some air to flow around the cuff protecting his stump. He laid the prosthetic on top of the cabinet containing the cloths. “That was a great match! I think with a little more practice you’ll be able to defeat me! And once that happens, you can move up to training with Pearl. I have to warn you, she won’t go easy on you like I have!” He winked and grinned.

“Actually, um…” Azahar contemplated the cloth in his hands, then glanced at the weapons rack – where Pearl’s gift of a two-handed broadsword awaited the right time and the gain of strength. “I think I would like to take a break from having only sword lessons. I was wondering, um, if it would be alright to ask, um…”

Sausage started to look at him with concern. “You can always ask me anything! Is – Is everything okay? Does it feel like the lessons are too hard? We can scale it back if you need to! You don’t have to fight Pearl any time soon, either! I was just joking about that.” Sausage laughed awkwardly, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. You’re, uh, not usually this hesitant.”

Azahar uttered a nervous laugh of his own. “Y-You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Papa, since my birthday is next month, I wanted to – well, I would like to – ask for something specific instead of having it be a surprise. Well, I guess two things. And I’ve been thinking about this for a while, so I’m not trying to be impulsive, and I don’t think you would have to worry about me losing interest and wasting time or money on it, or…”

Sausage nodded eagerly to show his support, eyes wide and with an also broadening smile. “Go ahead, tell me! What new interest do you have?”

Azahar continued, “At the gala, I really enjoyed listening to the violin music. May I… have a violin, and could you have someone teach me how to play…?”

Sausage hopped on his toes and moved his arms to clap his hands – but forgot for a second that he had removed his prosthetic, and so he stopped short, staring, as his left hand crossed in the air with nothing alongside his outheld stump. “Ah – heheh.” He retrieved his prosthetic and pointed it at Azahar. “You absolutely may! I’ll contact the court musicians to see if someone is available to be your tutor, and if not, surely we can find someone – even if we have to bring them all the way from Mazelea!”

“Thanks, Papa. I’ll work hard to learn just like with your lessons. W-We can still have sword lessons because I love spending the time with you, but I would like to try new things, too.”

“Of course, of course!” Sausage agreed, attempting to re-affix his prosthetic while fidgeting around, his body simply on automatic gesticulation mode as he talked. “You and your brother can explore anything that interests you! It doesn’t have to always be things Dad and I do, but it worked out so nicely that they can bond over ice magic! You and I could have found something else to do together, too, if you weren’t interested in sword-fighting! Botany for one thing, or alchemy, or a little bit of engineering. I can’t rely on fWhip for help with this thing forever! But don’t you go feeling pressured to learn that, either! I can learn new things, too!”

“Papa—”

“Yes, sorry— see, this is exactly what I mean. Sometimes it’s a little finnicky when I put it on by myself. I need to talk to fWhip about that when he does the next upgrade…” Sausage seemed to be having trouble holding his stump at the correct angle to slip the prosthetic into place without it catching on the fabric cuff.

“Papa, let me help.” Azahar took hold of the prosthetic by the forearm section. He smiled gently at Sausage. “Elowen and I can do things for you, too.”

Sausage chuckled softly. “I’ve gotten used to relying on Dad. Thank you, son.” He held still and instructed Azahar on the best way to fit the inside basket structure over the fabric cuff. Once it was settled in place, he flexed the fingers then lowered his arms. “The Winter Market opens in a few days. I think I know just the booth we can stop by for a finely crafted violin!”

~*~

As promised, once the market had opened and Sausage had enough free time, the four of them went on a nice outing to peruse the wares with the eventual intention of buying a violin for Azahar. Elowen kept close to Scott’s side this time, since Sausage was the one most familiar with the craftspeople of the market. The younger boy tried not to be too clingy, but Scott would gently squeeze anytime Elowen started to grip his hand too tightly.

When they found the booth, there was a lengthy explanation of how the type of wood that was used to make an instrument affected its sound, then the craftswoman played a few of the different ones she had for sale so Azahar could decide which he liked best. She even let him try the one he chose right there at the booth, giving him a brief introductory lesson and helping him to hold the bow correctly before he ventured into coaxing notes from the strings.

Azahar handled it as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, but the craftswoman assured him that once he had established his connection with the instrument he would understand its limits. Elowen watched and listened with fascination, although he kept his hands in tight fists against his legs, similarly terrified of breaking something by accident.

Scott and Sausage looked on, happy with how joyful and excited Azahar appeared regardless of how cautious he was handling the violin. They were all too aware of how he might have let this opportunity pass him by in order to ensure Elowen was the happier of the two.

There was plenty of chatter around them to override the sound of the violin, and Sausage was drawn to gaze at the surroundings, feeling content to see Mythland bustling with so much life and activity.

Yet, his attention automatically snapped toward a young voice calling out, “Papa, I want that one!”

Across the lane was a booth selling cloth dolls. A little girl was jumping up and down while pointing at one that wore a frilly princess dress. A wistful expression fell over Sausage’s face as the girl’s father took the doll from the seller and handed it to her; she promptly hugged it tightly and thanked him.

Scott noticed that Sausage was distracted, and followed his line of sight. “Fatherhood has turned you sentimental. That’s quite a look you have in your eyes. What are you thinking…?”

Without glancing away from the father and daughter as they walked away with the girl holding the doll wrapped in one arm while holding her father’s hand with the other, Sausage asked, “Do you – Do you think the boys would like to have a sister?”

~*~

That evening they had a family discussion wherein the boys agreed that having another sibling could be fun, and arrangements were made for another trip to Rivendell the following month. The carriage – and the two kings – would go without royal adornments to distance themselves from too much influence again.

When that day arrived, Azahar and Elowen waved as the carriage set off from the stable yard. Sir Carlos and Bubbles, charged with keeping watch over the princes, waited on the steps into the castle, allowing the boys to take their time and mentally adjust to their parents being away for the first time since they had come to Mythland.

Elowen was actually pondering a different question. “If I’m like Dad with magic, and you’ve been learning with Papa, what do you think our sister might end up like?”

“Maybe she’ll be like Bubbles.”

“No, that would be weird!”

Bubbles barked, sounding like she had taken offense at that comment. Azahar, meanwhile, laughed. “We’ll have to wait to find out. Come on, my violin tutor will be here soon. You can sit in on the lesson.”

“Yay! You know, even when you only practice a few notes, it’s so pretty to listen to.”

[To Be Continued in Chapter Three: The First Princess]

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caramsels · 7 months

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i see a lot of disagreement about whether cece (i've seen some people spell this as cici but idk which is right sorry) is implied to be six or raincoat girl from VLN, and i wanted to defend the six one a bit.

"the raincoat did not originally belong to six, so otto's recognition of it means that he might have known rcg or a previous owner of the raincoat"

this is a good point, but i think that the ties to six are more prominent with what we have so far. i find the specificity of the dialogue interesting too. upon noone mentioning that she saw a "yellow raincoat" on one of the mannequins, otto perks up at the mention of yellow, not a raincoat. this leaves more ambiguity, it's possible six just is a fan of yellow. maybe that's why she gravitates toward duck toys, maybe it factors into her wearing the raincoat initially, she is nine after all.

the ferryman

the role the ferryman plays makes me think that the audience is supposed to latch onto a connection to six. "the ferryman" is what the audience knows him as, because we have seen him interact with her. with otto claiming that he is " cece's ferryman,” it feels like a direct reference to the audience's knowledge of the character, which could easily be reflected in universe by our old protagonist.

clothes

this one is less solid and more like speculation, but we don’t really know if six “wakes up” in between nightmares like noone offscreen, or if she accepted the ferryman’s invitation and is permanently trapped in the nowhere. i lean heavily towards the second, hence why this section is just speculation on if the first one is true. we know that the nowhere isn’t just some dream lair, it’s it’s own world that the kids are physically taken to. based on noone describing herself wearing a dress in the first episode, it’s implied that LN kids get taken whatever they are wearing in their realm, the nowhere doesn’t give them a costume switch. if kids don’t get a new wardrobe upon entering the nowhere, who’s to say the new clothes they acquire in it wouldn’t also transfer over when they woke up? noone straight up disappearing in the night implies that the nowhere isn’t too interested in being discreet about kidnapping the kids and changing them either, so i can see this being a defense for the raincoat to be recognized by otto. i don’t actually believe this one much, but it’s fun to speculate.

time

this is actually a good point against the cece = six theory that i haven’t seen mentioned yet, but to me, one of the most chilling reveals in the final episode was that otto is the younger brother. The whole time I expected him to be older, but otto being younger than cece implies that she didn’t just go missing a long time ago, she went missing a LONG time ago. if the six we are used to seeing is still mentally and physically a nine year old, how do we connect her to cece’s age?

my answer would be that i think six is no longer a kid in the nowhere, i think that the podcast/LN3 and any future installments of LN are set after what we have seen so far. i’ve always thought that if a third game was ever made and six made an appearance, she’d be the sixth lady (in terms of power at least), not the version of her we know. six’s arc as a child has concluded by the end of LN1, she’s a part of the nowhere now. narratively, i don’t see a reason for her to be explored further at that stage of life. when noone is in the room with all the mannequins, she notes that they are past victims of the nowhere. and while the raincoat could represent rcg’s death in that context, i think it represents both. six also fell to the nowhere, the ending of LN1 is not happy.

promotional material for LN3 also mentions something “lurking in the shadows” and heavily features a mirror; both of which have been connected to the lady’s powers in the past. this isn’t to say that they 100% are meant to symbolize her, but i think the connection is worth noting when we talk about LN3’s placement in the timeline. i could talk longer about why i think any further appearances of six are likely to be older, but this isn’t about that so i’ll stop yapping.

conclusion

sorry if this is like incomprehensible, i’m used to screaming my LN tangents at my poor non LN fan friends in DMs and not posting them lol so forgive me for the weirdness. basically i’m still not entirely convinced thar six = cece, but i wanted to defend the theory from people writing it off completely. from the ferryman, the color yellow, the timeline, “six” and “cece” starting with similar sounds, “cecilia”, (which cece is a nickname for) meaning “sixth”, and the fact that the podcast has six episodes, i think the audience is at the very least encouraged to make the connection to six, whether or not it’s a red herring.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 3 #ln podcast #the sound of nightmares #six ln

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themsource · 11 months

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Misery

I was kind of shy sharing my OC Misery but I feel that I want to now. He's pictured above with my insert OC Oreo that I've had since childhood. Oh, what to say about Misery? You've probably noticed that he looks like Sans from Undertale or better yet an Alternate Universe version. Well he looks and sounds like Sans for a reason.

If interested the explanation on him is below the cut.

Getting a bit personal Sans is a big comfort character of mine. I enjoy pairing him up with everybody from other characters to inserts, etc. I like Sans so much I can't help wanting him to be loved and get it where it's available no matter the ship or pairing. (Kinda, haven't been sold on Soriel, I really enjoy them being best buds though and I don't really want to ruin that) And yes, that means even having him share in my suffering and pain too as a kindred soul and comfort blanket.

That's where Misery comes in.

He assumes the form of Sans for the explict purpose of torturing me emotionally and easily getting me to lower my guard and get behind my defenses. He also represents how toxic and damaging the fandom (The English side - in general) has become to me, but how I can never quit it because I love it too much. Misery's name is exactly who he is. Whenever I get too happy or peaceful he rears his ugly head to stir up trouble and to *Feed*. He drinks determination and confidence out of me which in turn stains his teeth black as a sign of contamination. Coincidently his goal on making me miserable is his own form of love too.

Misery is literally the poster child of awful relationships.

Some facts I've come up with for him is the fact he's affixed to my soul so he can't be killed unless I am. He can be subdued, beaten back by others and myself in very rare moments of strength but he always comes right back. Like an addiction. Misery is addicted to my suffering and going too long without can push him to unbearable levels. (I won't clarify what that exactly means for me) He can enlarge in size, change form, travel and create my nightmares, everything and anything to damage me he's capable of doing.

His coloration is because he's mossy, covered head to toe in the stuff like a bodysuit while wearing frayed black billowy pants. You can't see it in the images provided but he does have a white handprint sprayed out in the middle of his ribs revealing white ivory bone. This is the sign of our connection. (It's my/Oreo's handprint) He uses sickly yellow energy for 'magic' similar to the color of his eyes which are stars, stars to lord over me the hope I crave but denying me it.

There was an OC 'brother' I made for him in the form of Papyrus called Bitterness to represent all the darkness and hatred inside of me but I never got around to creating him. Every time I tried I felt sick and Misery metaphorically raised his head again lol

I've been writing this simply because I wanted to share him and maybe lower the weight he has piled on my shoulders from the fear that no one cares or is interested in my stuff. (Which logically I know isn't true but since when does the heart and mind ever line up properly lol)

Um, bit of an adult topic. His love does show in physical ways (horrible awful addictive ways) which means he does 'do the do' in my mind. But not in normal ways. Try to picture Ero Guro artist Takato Yamamoto's work combined with 1982s John Carpenter's The Thing (Yes the monster's assimilation - it's not pretty at all). This is a unity of pain and pleasure to the Nth degree like the Cenobite's like to talk about lol I have reasons for why I picture this type of thing but I don't feel comfortable publicly disclosing that sorry.

Anyways, I think that's about it! If there's more I remember or if someone ever asks me questions I'll come back and edit/add it in just as I will on Deviantart where I've cross posted this.

If you read this thank you. I hope it was interesting in a way.

-M

#my ocs #misery #This as a whole is depressing #Misery is misery indeed #Don't get me wrong I love the fandom #but I got scars man

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katierosefun · 2 years

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Weirdly specific ask game: Idk which ones you've already answered so I'll go with 30 and ask have u (or someone you know) had a (possibly) paranormal experience. (Speaking of paranormal, best of luck with the thesis! I'm sure it's way better than it seems right now, and I hope you get some much deserved rest when it is done!)

thank you for the ask and for the kind words!! :')) it's been . . . a very bizarre night so far (i've just quietly accepted my fate that i'm going to finish this thesis and my papers and my final all in one night). // from these asks

30. ask me anything / paranormal

and ahh . . . okay, so like, i don't consider myself insanely suspicious, and i take most paranormal things with a grain of salt, but there's been enough weird incidents in my life where i kinda have to wonder. for example, when i was younger, i had this dream i was riding a bus, and my grandpa boarded the bus and sat next to me. (mind you, my grandpa passed when i was two years old. i don't remember him that much.) anyways, i off-handedly mentioned this dream to my parents, and my parents both looked up--and my dad asked what my grandpa was wearing, and i was like "oh yeah he had a yellow tie?" and my dad blanched because he for some reason knew the exact outfit i described (grey suit, yellow tie combo . . .) and it freaked us all out because there are no photos of my grandpa wearing that outfit, and my parents don't talk about things like that when they're telling me about my grandpa. it was weird as hell, and i still don't know what was up with that, but i remember my dad felt sad because he always wanted his dad to show up in his dreams, except he never did. but that's a sad one. a happier but also more bizarre kinda paranormal incident was how when i was waiting to hear back from colleges, i had a dream that i was sitting under very cold waters. except i was happy! like, there was snow and ice everywhere, and it was all blue, but i felt totally calm. and then in my dream, my brain flashed over to my brother, and he was sitting at the edge of a desert, looking perfectly at peace. and then my brain switched over again, this time to visit my youngest brother, who was standing outside a mountain, looking equally happy. weirdly enough, later that year, i got accepted into a college in a place that snows a lot, and then my brother in the next year got accepted into a college where there's a lot of desert, and my youngest brother, well . . . he's going to be applying to colleges in the fall, and i have no idea where he might go to school nearby mountains, but wherever it is, i hope he's happy there too! oh, and perhaps the weirdest paranormal-ish activity that kinda makes me wonder if my mom and i just share similar brains or something, because there was this one really, really, really awful night i had--like, it was honestly one of the worst nights i'd ever had. the next morning, my mom randomly calls me--mind you, she doesn't call me often, mostly because she knows how busy i am--but she's frantic on the phone, and she's telling me how she dreamed that i was crying in a very dark place, just crying so much that my mom woke up crying too. so she called and asked if i was okay ("mm, i am"), and she was so insistent that i eventually had to tell her that oh, something terrible actually happened yesterday. it was so creepy for both of us, but it also felt nice that my mom had this weird dream to tell her to call me. honestly, there's a lot more weirdly strange things like that that's happened to me in my life--like the time i had a nightmare that i went down to hell, while my brother (on that same exact night) dreamed that he was walking alongside god (yeah, that was the weirdest night) . . . or like the time my friend and i both thought someone came into our rooms around the same time (3 am . . . our rooms are on the opposite sides of the apartment) and now we're convinced there's a ghost in our apartment . . . or like the time how the day before i got accepted in law school, i thought i heard someone whisper "caroline" behind me in my empty office building . . . so ! ! ! ! tl;dr: i think i've had my fair share of . . .. not necessarily paranormal experiences, but definitely weird, bizarre coincidences that sometimes make me wonder exactly how coincidental they truly are.

#answered #this was fun to answer! i hope that didn't freak anyone out :D

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universaltribalsimp · 2 months

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[BASIC INFORMATION]

Name: Team Spectrum

Symbol: A black-outlined, titled S colored in magenta, light blue, yellow-green, and yellow

Motto: Acknowledge us

Types Used: Varies, but mostly Psychic

Leader: Sterling/Lord Rainboom

Admin: Claudia

Region: Hoenn

Base Location: Under Mauville City

Uniform Style:

All of the uniforms are white with some black and the same colors of the symbol

Grunts and the admin wear white hoodies, pants, different colored shades, and white face masks

Male grunts have blue shades, female grunts have magenta shades, and the admin has green shades

The leader wears a cloak over a sleeved shirt and pants and a helmet reminiscent of Mega Mewtwo Y

The leader's helmet deepens their voice to make them sound more masculine

All members wear silver Mega Gauntlets that utilize Mega Energy, allowing them to Mega Evolve more than once in battle

Grunts:

All grunts utilize Pokemon whose Mega form has a bst between 480 and 600

Use no more than three in battle

Every single one of them got each other's back, no matter what

Don't steal from or hurt anyone and will even go out of their way to help someone in need

Admin: Claudia

Also known as the Rainbow Terror - given to her by the leader

Pokemon Team: Venusaur, Lucario, Ampharos, Gardevoir, and Houndoom

Was the first person to sympathize with the leader and even came up with the idea of forming Team Spectrum

Often considered the "second mother" of the team - looks out for both the leader and younger grunts and even comforts them

Leader: Sterling/Lord Rainboom

Also known as the Mega Nightmare

Real identity is unknown to the rest of the region; only their team knows

Pokemon Team: Charizard Y, Gyarados, Sceptile, Aggron, Diancie, and Mewtwo Y

Treats Olivia and grunts with love and respect and expresses genuine pride in them, regardless if they win or lose

Listens to their team when they express concerns and knows when to back down from a dangerous situation

Befriended Rayquaza and even named it Yero, but didn't catch it permanently and only calls upon them when bored or extremely needed

[THE STORYLINE]

WARNING: Super long!!!

The story of Team Spectrum not only takes place in the Hoenn region, but if this were an official Pokemon game, it would be a spin-off game from the perspective of the future leader. I tried to think of a plot similar to Pokemon games of the past, but the more I thought of the concept of Team Spectrum, I realized that they weren't much of a threat like Team Rocket or Team Plasma. As you can tell, it's essentially the Team Skull of the Hoenn region. But then it hit me, what if we got a game where we saw firsthand the birth of an evil team? Allow me a little bit of your time to tell you the plot of the hypothetical game, Pokemon Rainbow Emerald. Also, for the record, if this game was real, not only would the graphics be similar to that of SM/USUM - mostly because, Alola bias incoming, I love those graphics - but there would also be VOICE ACTING! Because, by Arceus, is it about damn time! And of course, like any other Pokemon game, you'd be able to name both the the player character and their rival, but for the sake of simplicity in this story, let's just call them Sterling and Orville - female and male respectively.The story begins with 17-year-old Sterling being jolted awake by their sickly mother, demanding that they hurry and get dressed because today's the day they got off their butt and begin their journey to become the next Pokemon Champion. She's lived in Oldale Town for her entire life so far and never thought of leaving home for any notable reason. So far in life, she was happy where she was - hanging out with her friend Orville, chilling, and being herself. However, her mother wasn't. She was always so pushy and demanding of her and a good example of that is in yesterday's diary entry.

"I just don't get it with Mom. When I'm bad at something, she wants me to try harder. When I'm good at something, she wants me to be better. Now she wants me to be the next Champion? I wish she'd care about my wants for a change."

With all these years of being disregarded and ignored for all of their natural talents while simultaneously being pushed to do things she never asked to do, Sterling had almost had enough. She was practically itching to turn 18 so that she could start living her own life. However, her mother's health was getting worse by the day and the demands had gotten more and more desperate until Sterling finally gave in. If being the next Pokemon Champion was the only thing that could make her mother proud of her, then so be it. You make your way over to Professor Birch's house, and when you get there, you find his wife chatting it up with Orville. Both she and her friend go out to find Birch, only to find him being chased by a pack of five Zigzagoons - just like in the original Emerald version because some things never changed. Bitch asks the two to grab a Pokeball out of his bag that's lying on the ground. Sterling and Orville then choose their starter Pokemon - for the sake of simplicity, they choose Treecko and Torchic respectively, and a double battle begins between the pack of wild Zigzagoons. After rescuing Birch, he lets them keep the chosen Pokemon as thanks for saving him, then gives the two pointers on how to be a Trainer. Afterward, he gives Sterling and Orville a Pokedex, a PokeNav Plus, and some Pokeballs before sending them on their way. Just before they leave, however, Birch's wife suggests that the two challenge the region's Gym Leaders, and both of them agree. As they go through Route 103, Orville decides to strike up some conversation along the way.

Orville: You know, I just realized something. You said you'd never do this. So what made you change your mind?

Sterling: My mom, that's what. She's not getting any better. Might as well try to make her happy for once.

And with that, the two best-friends-turned-friendly-rivals were off on their journeys. Along the way, Sterling would encounter both Team Aqua and Team Magma grunts like in the original Emerald version. However, since she's not the chosen one, she's just got to be an unfortunate witness to the main madness that unfolds. Instead, Sterling has to deal with her mother constantly blowing her phone up. Literally, after every single catch or battle - whether it be with her rival, a Gym Leader, or a grunt, she pesters her either through calls or text messages, bringing up rather pointless inquiries like "Did you catch anything worthwhile?" or "You better not lose to those Aqua/Magma grunts. Don't you embarrass me." Perhaps it was the comment relating to her rival battles that stung the most because whenever she lost, she only had this to say.

"Why am I not surprised? Honestly, whatever Orville is doing, you should do more of that."

Regardless of her mother's endless comments and Groudon and Kyogre going at it like they're siblings, Sterling was about to finally take on the Elite Four and the Champion. Although she was incredibly on edge, she had Orville by her side to give her that much-needed reassurance. By this time, the calls and texts have come to an abrupt stop, and although part of her is relieved, another part of her wonders if her mom is still alive. One by one, she took them on. Sidney, Phoebe, Glacia, and Drake. One by one, they all went down but then came Wallace. He has the same team as he did in the original Emerald and that Ludicolo with that bullshit ass Double Team. However, this time around, he has a Mega Gyarados. What's even worse is that it doesn't matter how much you grind or prepare for this final battle because, in the end, you're meant to lose. After getting her team healed up, as soon as she steps out of the Pokemon center, Sterling is called by her mom to come home immediately. Upon flying home, she walks in to find her mom in bed, barely hanging on for dear life. When she walks up to her, Mom grabs her daughter's hand and the following conversation takes place.

"Sterling… I know you came so far, but I gotta know… Are you the new champion?"

At this point, you have a couple of dialogue options to choose from. If you choose to say "no," she responds with "…Why am I not surprised?" If you choose to say "I got close," she responds with "…Not close enough." Regardless of what is chosen, Mom snatches her hand back and turns away from her daughter, weakly but firmly demanding that she "get out of her face." A teary-eyed Sterling pleads for her mother to be proud of her, only to get no such response. Or any response, for that matter. A few days later, Sterling is found in the backyard, standing over her mother's grave with a pair of watery eyes combined with that of a fiery glare. A saddened Orville approaches from behind and places a hand on his friend's shoulder, telling her that he's sorry for her loss. Sterling snatches her shoulder away, questioning why he was sorry and that "at least you're champion. She would've loved that for you - just as she's always loved you." And with that, Orville leaves her to her own devices. For an hour, Sterling stands there, staring intensely at the gravestone when something clicks and she has an epiphany. Her mom was never proud of her because she wasn't a strong trainer like Orville or the former champion Wallace. If she was to be respectful and acknowledged, then she needed to be the strongest of them all. The question is how? A few more minutes of thinking and then it hits her.

Mega Evolution.

Wallace and Orville had a Mega Pokemon and are among the region's strongest trainers. Sterling herself has a Mega Pokemon and has witnessed firsthand its extraordinary power. Perhaps if she could find a way to exploit that power to its maximum potential, she could be unstoppable. Of course, she could assemble a full team of Pokemon capable of Mega Evolution and acquire their compatible Mega Stones, but only Arceus knows how long that will take and Lady Luck isn't always on her side. However, after some further research on the subject, she discovered something groundbreaking. Rayquaza can Mega Evolve without a Mega Stone. This was perfect. If she finds a way to harness that ability, she will be set. But then arises a new problem: how could you possibly find such a project? After several more minutes of thinking, she decided to sell some things. And not only just a few valuable items in her house that were collecting dust, but she also decided to sell some Pokemon.

From here, the hypothetical game would switch from the traditional linear style gameplay into a more open-world style inspired by Scarlet and Violet. Not only would you as the player be able to traverse the Hoenn region freely, but you can go to and traverse other regions freely. This would not only allow you to visit your favorite spots and challenge some of your favorite characters from previous games, but this would also allow you to catch and sell Pokemon worthwhile that are only found in other regions and thus be able to find this grand new project. A project Sterling named the MEWS Project - MEWS stands for Mega Evolution Without Stones. After however long it takes for her to get enough cash, Sterling is finally able to fund the project. All that's needed now is Rayquaza. While all of the scientists in the work-in-progress underground base are working on the machine, Sterling traverses through the tower, battling so many Pokemon along the way, until she reaches the apex and pulls out a few Pokeballs from her bag. From the Pokeballs, three Minors are released, and then Sterling drops to her knees and begins to pray. Almost no sooner does she finish her prayer, the Sky High Pokemon graces the young woman with their presence, and to her surprise, they speak.

Rayquaza: (I gaze down at the trainer with a steely glare) Sterling of Oldale Town. You have summoned me for what purpose?

Sterling: (I anxiously look up at the Legendary dragon, still on my now trembling knees.) Rayquaza, I simply ask that you aid me in a project to become the strongest trainer in the world.

Rayquaza: And why do you wish to become the world's strongest trainer?

Sterling: (No response is made as I gaze to my right, almost not wanting to answer the question.)

Rayquaza: Your mother is gone, Sterling. (The younger looks up at me with a gasp and a stunned expression.) You don't owe her anything.

Sterling: …… (Once again, I hang my head and choose to say nothing because what do I say to that?)

Rayquaza: …… (I circle the silent trainer and the scared Miniors, tilting my head a couple of times.) I will not force you to reconsider, but remember this. True strength is not born from winning battle after battle. It comes from falling time and time again and still deciding to get back up.

Sterling: (I look up at Rayquaza and nod my head.) I'll keep that in mind.

Rayquaza: (I nod my head in return) Very well, then. If you truly require my assistance, you must prove to me in battle. But before we get started… (I point at the Minior trio.) Are those for me??

Sterling: Oh! Uh, yes, uh… (I chuckle lightly as I scramble back into my feet.) I caught these to convince you to help me, but… Perhaps they're not necessary--

No sooner do those words leave her mouth, the Sky High Pokemon zooms down and snatches up the now screaming Miniors, then devours them whole. Rayquaza then thanks Sterling for the offering and in a flash of a blinding light, they Mega Evolve, commencing the battle. It knows Extreme Speed, Dragon Pulse, Dragon Dance, and Dragon Ascent - the final being a Flying-type move and not a Dragon-type move as the name would suggest for some inexplicable reason. It would be quite the challenge, but eventually, Sterling prevails and Rayquaza allows her to catch it. Over the next couple of months, Sterling and her scientists make sure that the Legendary Sky Dragon is taken great care of while they work on the MEWS Project. It was given mandatory 30 breaks along and an hour-long lunch just like everyone. Speaking of lunch, it was given all of the meteorites, Miniors, and Rayquaza treats to its heart's content mostly thanks to the effort of Sterling. At one point, Rayquaza gives everyone a ride through the skies and Sterling even gives it a nickname: Yero - one of the many names of the Rainbow Serpent. Yero is treated less like a test subject and more like an equal member of the team. After months of experiments, all of everyone's work pays off in the form of a silver gauntlet with a small glass dome on the back swirling with some kind of strange magenta energy - the Mega Gauntlet. With her Pokemon team out and ready, Sterling presses the dome and her entire hand glows a bright magenta, trembling and aching in pain all the while. Despite the pain, a growling Sterling fights through and snaps her fingers, bringing out the Mega forms of all six Pokemon of her team at the same time. All of the scientists applaud and celebrate amongst each other, but Sterling. She walks over to her team and caresses her Sceptile with tears of pure joy.

Sterling: We did it. We actually did it. (I look up at the ceiling and dry my eyes.) I hope you're watching because from now on, you'll be looking at the reign of the Mega Nightmare.

Yero: (confused but intrigued) The Mega Nightmare??

Sterling: (I acknowledge the Sky High Pokemon with a nod.) Yeah. New dawn, new day, new life for me. I'm gonna need a name change. (I look down at my clothes and a disappointed frown is made.) …And a wardrobe change at that.

Yero: (I acknowledge her with a nod.) I see. I wish you luck in your endeavors, Sterling. I only wish that you heed my advice.

With Yero released back into its rightful place in the skies and the MEWS Project being a complete success, Sterling dons her gauntlet along with a new outfit and a new name to match: Lord Rainboom, the Mega Nightmare. Yes, Lord Rainboom, as in rainbow and doom. Don't laugh. Over the next few weeks, with her new persona and power, she takes on the Hoenn gym leaders again, defeating them all with far less difficulty than her very first attempt. All the while, she makes passionate speeches to anyone who would listen, declaring that all of Hoenn will acknowledge her might and the rest of the world will follow suit. Everyone in the region takes notice - especially a few people in particular. One of which is a young woman dressed in green shades along with a hoodie and pants that strangely have the same colors as the Mega Nightmare's. After defeating the seventh gym, Lord Rainboom is approached by the seemingly matching individual and a conversation is struck.

???: I know how you feel. (The Mega Nightmare turns towards me with a confused tilt of their head.) You try your very best and yet you still come up short. Now you want to prove everyone wrong.

Lord Rainboom: (One hand is on my hip as I gaze at the newcomer.) Uh-huh. And you are…??

???: Claudia. Nice to meet you. (We shake hands.) And while I'm here, let me tell you that I'm not the only one who feels the same way.

Lord Rainboom: Is that right? Prove it.

With a warm smile, Claudia leads the Mega Nightmare to her hometown, Mauvile City, and in the garage of her home sits a fairly large group of trainers - both boy and girl - patiently waiting for Claudia to return. The second they see Lord Rainboom, they all gasp both surprise and a hint of excitement and one of them even bows before her. Claudia goes on to explain that she and the trainers have been watching and listening to the Mega Nightmare and they agree with her wholeheartedly. Why? Every single one of the trainers has been through what Sterling had been through - their loved ones trying to live through them and being criticized regardless of whether they accomplished something or not. It is at this moment that Lord Rainboom has another epiphany. The world needs to acknowledge not just her, but everyone who feels ostracized despite their inner strength.

Lord Rainboom: Listen well, my dear friends. To our loved ones, we are nothing. But to us, we are their worst nightmares! We will show everyone that we are not as weak or useless as we're made out to be! We… are Team Spectrum! And we! Are here! To stay!

[TRIVIA]

Inspired by my love of Mega Evolution taken to a bit of an extreme.

The alias "Lord Rainboom" and the helmet are inspired by Lord Dominator from Wander Over Yonder.

#pokemon #pokemon oc #pokemonteam #evil team

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princeanxious · 3 years

Text

New au idea just dropped: abducted by aliens + found family; familial anadukeceit addition with a twist:

tw: minor abducted by aliens, mentions of illegal scientific experimentation on a minor, general au theme following the rescues of ppl getting abducted, those are the big ones, lmk if i missed anything!

Virgil and Remus are normal adult humans that are part of a galactic crew that specializes in rescuing aliens that were abducted for black market trade and experimentation purposes and rehabilitating them

Janus is a young teenage human who'd been abducted and experiemented on for two years before his rescue, leaving him half-covered in abnormally healthy scales, sharp fangs and coldblooded-like qualities, and without a way to talk like he used to.(he can growl and hiss and whine ect., but they mostly ruined his ability to mimick sounds without it being painful and thus he cannot actually try to speak without pain.) He's not seen another live human in years, and is way too young to know how to cope with it, so he doesn't trust anything anymore and often comes off as extremely violent because he doesn't know whats a threat and what isnt, and isnt honestly sure hes not experiencing a vivid nightmare half the time.

Cue this team getting a report from a different rescue group about requesting help for a specific rescue from their mostly human rescue team, this time its about a small earth-like dealthworlder that had been discovered and rescued as one of the few surviving aliens from an illegal testing facility.

Report lists it as extremely volitile and hostile, but only when provoked(see: any attempt to interact with it). If left alone, it simply cowers in a corner and cries. There have been efforts to get it to eat that have only been semi successful due to the poor thing seemingly not being able to digest certain foods, and they worry it will simply die of starvation, or loneliness, if they cant get it's condition stable.

The reason theyre requesting Virgil's team is because the original rescue has never seen this kind of alien before, but it looks mostly human and thats the assumption. Humans are known to have high-packbonding instincts, and that persistence for kinship is pretty much this rescue's last hope.

To the humans, its a bit of a far leap seeing as they arent provided with any clear pictures of the thing, but its their job and theyre getting paid to do it, might as well try.

They.. They arent prepared to arrive to the sight of a child. Well, sort of child. A teenager? Whose regardless way too thin and quite too small to look anything but vastly unhealthy.

From his one side of his ribs curled up all the way around one side of his face and down that arm are rich yellow scales, that perhaps look like the healthiest part of him.

He wears a blindfold from his previous containment, and word has it the first alien to try and take it off was met with the worst lash-out yet and was still in recovery. They had kept it on him because he wont let anyone near take it off. It keeps him calm to be sightless, and its unfortunately all they can do to keep him that way.

And well, while Remus has always been the best at taming some of the wilyest deathworld creatures, its actually Virgil who has skill in taming those few labeled 'deadly.'

He sees this 'dangerous' behavior for what it really is.

Fear.

This is a child who is scared, terrified, and lashing out at anything that doesn't feel safe.

So you can imagine the brief uptic in nervous alien chatter from the main observation room when Virgil decides to walk straight into the containment room with no gear, no food, nothing but himself and his jacket.

Its a little jarring to hear a teenager hiss angrily at you, but Virgil used to Be That Teenager, so he doesn't really react. And he can see it when he speaks, using a soft and comforting voice, the way this kid freezes at being spoken to. In a langauge he understands.

"Hey buddy."

There's an immediate growl of uncertainty, pressing himself further away. Disbelief. It cant be, right? It's been 2 years since hes been in a room with another living human, there's no way.

..Right?

"Cmon now, none of that. It's just me here right now. My names Virgil."

He doesn't really want to believe it, that hes hearing another human. But he cant help the instinctual need to turn and hide the scales, the thing that makes him a freak of nature, no human would want him after what had been done to him.

Its a slow back and forth, really. Virgil asking a mundane question and getting some cautious hiss or growl or click in reply. But slowly, ever so slowly, the boy is relaxing.

"Can I reach my hand out? I wont touch you, okay? I want you to reach out too, if you're okay with that. We can move at your pace, okay?"

And maybe he gets a slightly petulant whine, but theres no aggression. Just. stress.

He holds his hand out, palm down, and waits. And is rewarded with an extrsmely shaky hand reaching out and grasping his own with a little fumbling. And then theres a pause, where the boy is taking thw time to register the hand.

Human.

And then the boy is all but flinging himself forward, blindly reaching out with a sob. Maybe some aliens in the observation room tense, but the humans in the room remain completely calm.

And now Virgil has a lap full of entirely too distraught child and no say in the matter, but thats fine. Hes content to just hold the poor thing and let the kid cry it out, god knows he needed this.

They learn this kids name, Janus, through some shake tracing of fingers on skin, then pen to paper. He's barely 16, and was abducted at age 14.

They learn one eye had been tampered with as well to match the scales, but all that was successful was a color change to yellow. It fortunately affects Janus's sight very little, except when hes tired and finds himself with migraines from his eyes being tired.

Janus is a special case, because he cant go back home, not with the things hes seen and experienced, as the galactic rescue is still a bit of a secret to earth. But hes a minor, so he cant very well join the rescue yet, even if he wanted to.

So, Virgil and Remus adopt him. Janus is more than happy about it, despite his struggles to show it.

They have a number of humans and humanoids on their team, one of which is a therapist named Emile(human), and another who is their navigator and unofficial translator named Remy(half-human).

Janus p much gets unofficially adopted by them as well, standing in as the cool uncles most likely, but through them he learns to deal with his trauma, and gets to learn how to communicate via galactic hand-sign language.

Sometimes a family can be a Team Rescue Group Leader, his Danger Tamer Chaotic Boyfriend, and their Half Danger-Noodle Half-Sassy Human Son, and two fun uncles who collectively know how to heal trauma and 47 different ways to say 'fuck you' in alien.

#sanders sides #anxceitmus #familial dukexiety #familial anxceit #anxceit #luka writes #luka's aus #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version! |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Tell the Truth

Prompts: aaaa the way you write angst is just *chefs kiss* wonderful. I’ve been really enjoying the butterfly project series, it has made me cry multiple times. May I request some fluff to balance the angst? - anon

Excuse me while I sob over Redemption Never Came and politely grabby hand for more angst with a happy ending (Roman angst my beloved) (Also you are an amazing fanfic artist :D) - anon

This is so heartbreaking and whumpy but so soft in the end and I would devour a second part about everyone trying to help undo all the negative patterns they've all instilled in Roman and just showing him affection and everyone's hearts breaking a little more each time he's surprised they actually want to be around him. - LadyofhteWoods

And now a part of me wants to see all those scenarios again, only this time Roman gets loved- walk in the kitchen, get a hug. Sit on the couch? Cuddle pile. Go on a quest? Bring friends, if hurt, patch up and movies. Crying in bed because you had a bad time and your brain is screaming that you suck and a wave of depression has rippled through you and you feel horrible? Have some tea… cry it out…. We’re here. - A_tiny_star_prince

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecating thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 7688

Roman lies. A lot. Maybe it's time they did something about it.

Roman’s lies don’t vanish overnight. How could they? When he’s so used to repeating them, over and over, in a horrific little mantra before he goes to sleep, how can he be expected to get rid of them in only one night?

That doesn’t make them less difficult to hear.

Janus is downstairs, helping Virgil fold up one of the blankets strewn about the living room, when he winces and hisses.

“J? You okay?”

Janus nods, jerking his head upward. Virgil follows his gaze and winces too.

“…Princey?”

“I think so.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s Roman.

“I got this,” Virgil says quietly, taking the blanket from Janus, “you go. He seems to let you help more than he lets us.”

He never really had the choice to let me.

Janus swallows heavily as he appears outside Roman’s door. The lies aren’t nearly as poisonous as they were a few days ago, but they’re strong enough to curl his tongue at the bitterness in his throat. He raises a hand to knock on the door.

The lies falter for a moment before another one floats through.

Don’t come in.

He smirks, gently pushing the door open to meet a darkened room.

“Impressive,” he says softly, making his way over to the figure in the bed and perching on the end, “that could’ve been one of mine.”

He’s rewarded with the quietest of huffs before a head shyly peeks out at him from the covers. Janus smiles and tilts his head.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Roman shuffles a little. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was summoning you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Janus glances around the room. His computer is off and shut. The bathroom light and fan are off. He looks back. “Can I help, sweetie?”

A shuffling of the blankets that’s probably supposed to be a shrug.

“Let me come find you, then,” he murmurs, standing and moving to where the head was a moment ago, “how did you get this many blankets on top of you?”

He slowly starts to move them out of the way, peeling back layer after layer, only briefly wondering whether or not Roman can breathe properly under these. It’s a careful act, one he treats with the same reverence as cleaning his gloves or his scales, creating a little cocoon of blankets as he gets further and further into the covers.

The last one puffs just the slightest amount, up and down.

So you can breathe, good.

Janus doesn’t move this one all the way out of the way, just lifts it up enough to peer inside. Roman’s little face peers back at him, partially covered by another blanket clutched tight to his chest. He looks so…child-like.

The realization makes something warm turn in Janus’s chest.

“Knock knock,” he says softly, “anyone home?”

Roman blinks. “Mm.”

“May I come in, sweetie?��

“Mm.” Roman jerks his chin toward Janus’s clothes. “Lose the sharp bits.”

Janus snaps his fingers, transforming his usual clothes into a soft yellow shirt and sleep pants. “Better?”

“Mm.”

“How did you manage to get so many blankets balanced on your bed,” Janus asks as he slips beside Roman, “mine always fall off after three.”

“Practice.” Roman shifts to make room.

Janus frowns. “Come here, sweetie, let me cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The frown deepens. “Sweetie?”

Roman buries his face a little deeper into the blanket. “You don’t like cuddling. Virgil an’ Remus said so.”

Oh, Roman…

“Come, sweetie,” he insists, tugging Roman gently into a proper hug, “there.”

“But—but—“

“I may not be as big a fan of cuddling as you and Patton,” Janus says firmly, cupping Roman’s face, “and I’m certainly the type that enjoys being tackled by Remus—“

Roman snorts.

“—but you’re upset,” he finishes gently, “and I want to help.”

Burden.

Needy.

Don’t understand boundaries.

Don’t deserve help.

Janus hisses. Roman sighs.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he assures, still cradling Roman’s face as he pulls him close, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“I know, and I—I don’t want you to leave, but—“ Roman swallows— “I just—I still don’t believe you’re here.”

Janus wraps a pair of arms around Roman’s waist and squeezes. “I’m real, I’m here.”

“I just—“

There’s another lie swirling in Roman’s brain, too nebulous to make it all the way to Janus, but present enough that it makes his mouth tingle. He leans down to kiss Roman’s forehead.

“…you said it was your job to protect the Ego.”

“That’s right, sweetie, it is.”

“I guess I…I just…”

Janus gives Roman another encouraging squeeze. Roman brings the blanket further up his face.

“…I guess I figured that if you—if you could h-hate me that much or h-hurt me that badly and not—not care, then you…maybe you…”

Janus’s heart clenches as the lie finally makes itself known.

Not worth protecting.

He pulls away, shushing the heartbroken whine that Roman makes, taking off his gloves and wrapping every arm around the poor thing. He presses another kiss to his forehead, letting the hiss out into his hair.

“That’s not true, sweetie,” he promises, “and you’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you and letting it get this far.”

And the poor thing is so tired, so weary that he goes limp in Janus’s arms, save for the blanket clutched tightly to his face. Janus frowns, opening his mouth to say that might be a little uncomfortable, what with Roman’s arms tucked between them, when he starts putting the pieces together.

Roman is still wearing a fair amount of clothing, he’s got something pressed up against his face, under his chin, and he’s got so many blankets piled on top of him that even Janus feels warm.

“And here I thought I couldn’t feel more rotten,” he whispers, carding one hand through Roman’s hair, another scratching gently between his shoulder blades, “but you must be in agony.”

A questioning hum is let out against his throat.

“You’re still touch starved, sweetie,” he says in way of answering, squeezing a little tighter, “are you still cold?”

There’s a soft rush of breath as Janus cups the back of his neck and then a noise is just about torn from his throat as he uses it to pull Roman close.

“Oh, shh, shh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “I’m right here, sweetie, I won’t leave you.”

They lie there for a while longer, Roman’s arms slowly lowering the blanket until he shyly puts his arms around Janus in return.

“There you go, sweetie,” he encourages, “hold onto me, that’s it.”

“Why—why are you letting me hug you?”

“Because it seems like you’d like to hug me.” Janus squeezes him again. “You don’t need to have a reason, sweetie, if you need a cuddle, you can have one.”

I need a reason. I need an excuse. I need an argument. I have to convince you.

Another hiss. “You can always ask for hugs, sweetie, you don’t need to convince me to hug you.”

“…really?”

Oh, Roman… “Yes, sweetie, you can ask any of us.”

The wave of disbelief that hits him makes him grit his teeth.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise.” Another kiss to his forehead. “You’re not unwanted, you’re not a burden.”

The silence he gets implies that Roman may not want to prove that—or disprove it—for himself right now.

“…can we just stay here for a bit?”

“For as long as you need, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, settling them in for some rest, “for as long as you want.”

——————————

Patton is in the kitchen, the first one downstairs this morning. There’s already a pot of coffee brewing and he sets the kettle up on the counter. He reaches up to pull the mugs for everyone. The plain black one for Logan, the Nightmare Before Christmas one for Virgil, the sparkly one for Remus, and the blue puppy one for himself. He frowns.

Roman used to keep his mug down here too. This really big red one with a golden crown on the side. He hasn’t seen it in ages.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He turns and sees Roman walk into the kitchen, smiling brightly as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, not a seam or stitch of his prince costume out of place. He strides into the room like he owns it, as if he’s just come down the stairs in his resplendent palace to a crown of adoring onlookers.

“Ah! Patton!” Goodness, he speaks like it too. “Good morning!”

“Roman!” Patton rushes forward and wraps him in a hug.

This is where everything goes wrong.

Roman tenses. Not in a way that means he wants out, but out of sheer surprise. Patton waits for Roman’s arms to wrap around him but instead, there’s just a very, very soft touch to his shoulder.

“Patton,” he asks quietly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great, kiddo, why?”

“W-well, you’re…you’re hugging me.”

“Sure am.”

“…why?”

Suddenly Patton feels very cold.

He pulls back, not enough to let Roman go completely, but enough to look up and see a truly heartbreaking look of confusion on his face. He can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his mouth as he raises one hand to his face.

“Are you asking why I’m hugging you?” Roman nods. “I want to hug you, kiddo. You’re hug-shaped.”

“I’m…what?”

“Hug-shaped,” Patton repeats, tugging him a little closer with the arm still around his waist, “you’re worth hugging, I like hugging you.”

“O-oh.”

And Patton has to watch as every scrap of confidence falls from Roman’s expression, his shoulders slump, and he looks like he loses some of his height, even. The shift is so drastic that it almost springs tears to his eyes at how much Prince Roman suddenly looks like a lost child, swimming in a costume too big and too heavy for him. Roman face contorts as he looks at a spot on the counter, furrowing his brow as if it’ll explain everything to him if he just glares hard enough.

There’s something fragile about the way Roman leans into Patton’s hand, something breakable about how warm he is right now. Patton shifts his weight to his other leg and there’s a flash of panic in Roman’s eyes, quickly stifled but there.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling Roman back in for a proper hug, “I’m right here, it’s okay. You just let it out, okay?”

Roman’s breathe shudders a little into Patton’s shoulder. Then he starts pushing Patton away.

Patton listens, confused, until he watches Roman shake himself and put the mask of the prince right back on.

“Terribly sorry,” he says in the awful, awful cheerful voice as he rakes a hand through his hair, “don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t,” Patton blurts before he can stop himself, “don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do what, Padre?”

“Don’t pretend,” he says, reaching out for Roman again, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Or that you don’t want something.”

“I don’t like being needy, Patton,” Roman says in a soft voice that’s just this side of wobbly, “and you don’t like me needy.”

And doesn’t that just feel hot and guilty in Patton’s throat?

“I like you, sweetheart,” he says instead, “and you’re not being needy if you want comfort or even just a touch. You’re allowed to want something, Roman, you are.”

Roman huffs in disbelief and turns.

“No, Roman—“ Patton hurries to get in front of him— “you are.”

Something flickers across Roman’s expression. Patton doesn’t even need Janus to tell him that Roman thinks he’s walking into a trap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Patton says quietly, “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I? I’ve made you think that your job is wrong, that you—that you’re wrong and you’re not, kiddo. You’re not wrong. You’re not awful. I promise.”

Roman’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Patton coos, wrapping him back in a hug, and finally, finally Roman’s arms come up to wrap around him too, before he’s being squeezed so tight it borders on painful.

Patton doesn’t care.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” He rocks them back and forth a little as Roman buries his face in his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, I know we will.”

They stay like that until the kettle goes off and Roman startles, jumping back a little bit. Patton soothes away the last of the jitters and smiles, watching Roman look like…Roman. Not the Prince, not the horribly lost child, just…just Roman.

“I think that’s my cue to make you the biggest mug of hot chocolate you’ve had since Christmas,” he says quietly, “now what mug would you like?”

Roman glances at the cabinet. “Anyone is fine.”

“Then why don’t you go grab one while I get the hot chocolate?”

Patton busies himself with the box, purposely letting Roman have his privacy as he picks out a mug, trying not to make his smile too blinding when he turns and sees Roman shyly hold out a big red mug with a sparkly crown.

“Good choice,” he says softly as he takes it from him, “I missed this mug.”

Judging by the way Roman’s mouth curls up in a little smile, he knows what Patton meant.

——————————

Virgil walks into the room and sees Roman sprawled out across the chair. He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s got to give it to Janus; even though he knows he can hear lies, he’s not sure he would’ve believed that they were actually coming from Roman. Because Roman looks the fucking picture of relaxed right now. It looks like he saw Patton and Logan on the couch and decided there wasn’t enough room for him to take up as much space as he wants. It looks like he’s occupying the entire fucking corner and not just the chair. It looks like he’s every bit the arrogant prince they used to think he was.

Then he sees how tight his jaw is and the slight tremble of his hands.

The room isn’t warm, there’s no reason for Princey to be shivering. There’s certainly no reason for him to be so tense as he sits in the chair, tapping a pen against his cheek in a fabulous impression of mindless thinking but is actually a carefully controlled way of preventing himself from moving any further.

He’s gotta hand it to him. Princey’s good.

Virgil walks up to Roman and shoves his hands into his pockets as Roman looks up.

“Dark and Stormy,” he says in a perfected casual lilt, “is there something I can do for you?”

And wow, okay, if this is what Janus hears all the time then Virgil has no idea how he fucking does it.

Janus hears lies, Virgil hears fears.

Please don’t make me leave.

If you want the chair I’l give it to you, I’ll move, I’ll sit on the floor, I’ll be quiet, but please don’t make me go. I want to stay, please, can I—can I stay? Is that okay?

Virgil tilts his head. “Move the book.”

Roman furrows his brow. “What?”

“The book.” Virgil nods to the notebook in Roman’s lap. “Move it. Move your arm.”

Confused, Roman does as he asks only to squeak in surprise when Virgil pronounces it perfect and plonks himself in Roman’s lap.

“Virgil!”

“Yeah?” Virgil pulls out his phone and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“You—you’re—“ Roman still doesn’t move— “you’re in my lap.”

“Sure am.” Virgil looks up at him and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No?”

Roman’s voice drops too. “What?”

Virgil indicates his weight. “No? This okay?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine, I just—what?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Virgil reaches behind him to take Roman’s free hand and pull it close, tucking it under his chin and clutching it there. Roman’s hand trembles. He finds himself absentmindedly running his thumb over the knuckles, the palm, the fingers. He keeps his eyes on Roman’s face.

Roman’s other arm lowers, gingerly resting on Virgil’s legs. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Princey,” he whispers, “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Roman’s face twitches. “…so have I.”

“What, been awful to me or awful to you?”

For a moment, he thinks Roman’s just going to say that he’s been awful to Virgil. Which, yes, he was in the past, but not like Virgil’s been. But instead, Roman opens his mouth and shakily whispers: ‘both.’

“I know, Princey.” Virgil squeezes his hand again. “You’re all good with me, and we can…if you want, I can help with the second part too.”

Roman’s eyes widen and godfuckingdamnit that hurts.

“I gotcha, Roman,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together, “and ‘m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently.”

Roman swallows, Virgil’s eyes drawn to the roll of his throat. “You…you want to help me?”

Roman, you’re gonna ruin my reputation of not having a heart by smashing it into fucking pieces.

“Yeah, Roman,” he reassures, “I wanna help you. You’re important.”

“I am?”

“Sure are, Princey.” He lightly knocks his head against Roman’s. “And if it ever feels like I don’t believe that, call me out on my bullshit. ‘Cause that’s bullshit.”

“What are you two muttering about over there?” Patton shakes his head fondly when Virgil decides to just turn his head upside down instead of turning around. “Virgil, that’s not good for your spine.”

“We’re metaphysical, Pop-star, who cares?”

“When you start complaining about neck pain,” Logan says wryly, “me.”

He glances up too and Virgil hides a smirk at how his face softens when he spots Roman’s expression.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Roman says hurriedly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s Hug Roman time,” Virgil says immediately after, “so I’m hugging Roman.”

“I think that’s less of a hug than you sitting on his lap,” Logan says, standing, “but we’ll never fit all of us on that chair.”

Virgil feels more than hears Roman’s inhale as Logan and Patton start moving the couch cushions to the floor. He sits back upright just in time to see Roman’s hopeful face and butts his head against his again.

“Come on, Princey, let’s go.”

“…are you going to stand up, or…?”

“Or you could carry me.”

“Virgil,” he hears Patton chide.

“No, no,” Roman says, “it’s fine, I can carry him if he wants to be carried. I will need my hand back, though.”

Okay, yes, Virgil does enjoy Roman carrying him a bit too much for altruistic purposes but it’s worth it when Roman goes to gently set him down and the other two pull him down instead.

“There,” Logan says softly as Roman’s head comes to rest against the base of the couch, “much better.”

Roman opens his mouth to say something when Logan’s hand tangles in his hair and it turns into a slightly strangled sound. Patton chuckles, wrapping his arms around Roman and sighing softly.

“Hey, who wants to play a game?”

Remus’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“We’re already playing a game,” Virgil says, “it’s called Cuddle Roman, now get your butt down here.”

Remus gasps. “My favorite!”

“Okay good,” Virgil mutters as he moves out of Roman’s lap to make room for Remus, “I totally thought he was talking about butts.”

“I have a feeling, my dear,” Janus sighs, striding from the shadows and totally not making Virgil jump, “that it’s both.”

Remus just cackles. Janus takes a seat, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands in his. Roman frowns at him slightly, his head still spinning from the amount of people around him.

“What—is there something wrong?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s Hug Roman hours. So I’m here.”

Vigil chuckles at the blush on Roman’s face. “So this is becoming a regular thing, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“Yay!”

Remus just holds his brother tighter.

——————————

“…come in.”

“If you’d like to reschedule, Roman, it’s no trouble, I’m happy to…”

Logan trails off as he walks into the room, Roman’s back to him as he hunches over a table near the door to the Imagination. He shuts the door quietly behind him and tucks the notebook under his arm.

“Roman?” He takes a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“Never better, Specs,” Roman says cheerily, too cheerily, “just give me one moment and I’m all yours.”

Logan frowns. “If you’d like to reschedule, Roman,” he repeats, softer this time, “I can assure you, it’s fine.”

“No, no, that’d be rude.” Something crinkles in Roman’s hands. “Just—just one moment.”

There’s a heavy clunk and a barely contained hiss.

“Roman—“ he starts forward— “are you hurt?”

“Not hurt.” Another clunk. “Just…incredibly clumsy, it seems.”

“Can I help?”

If he weren’t paying attention, he would miss the way Roman’s shoulders tense with disbelief.

“N-no, that’s alright,” Roman says, the first time his voice has slipped, “I’m just…no, it’s alright.”

He jerks his head toward the desk, being very careful not to let Logan see his face.

“It’s over there, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Logan looks, then walks over to the desk and carefully sets down his notebook. He glances up at Roman and can’t stop the soft noise at seeing Roman’s hands shake and fumble with a large bottle.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “Roman, please.”

Roman freezes.

“…please what?”

“Let me help you,” he says, walking over, “let me help you with this.”

Roman shudders and tries to laugh again. “You don’t need to busy yourself with inane and worthless tasks, Logan.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“You’re not inane or worthless, Roman,” he says firmly, “nor are you a task.”

Roman’s shoulder is cold under his hand. He cups it nonetheless and leans closer, mindful to keep his gaze down and away.

“Please?”

Under his hand, Roman sighs. “…if that’s what you want.”

He’s not prepared for when Roman turns around, a bottle of micellar water in one hand and cotton ovals in the other. His makeup—done so wonderfully this morning—is smeared and wearing away, his nose bright red under the concealer. Logan lets out another soft noise, taking the proffered items and gently pushing Roman to sit on the table.

He takes one of the cotton ovals and gets it damp, cupping Roman’s chin in one hand.

“Let me know if anything starts to sting or hurt,” he instructs softly and starts to clean the smudges from his face. Roman sits perfectly still, his gaze down at Logan’s tie. His hands fold neatly in his lap and he looks every bit the cooperative ideal.

Except for the way he looks terrified every time Logan so much as shifts his hand.

“You are not worthless,” Logan says quietly as he works, swapping out the cotton ovals when needed, “you are not annoying me. You are someone I care about very deeply and someone I enjoy helping.”

Roman’s chin wobbles.

“I am always impressed by the ideas you create,” he continues after quietly bidding Roman to turn slightly, “and you never cease to amaze me with your creativity.”

Roman’s throat works against his hand as he swallows. “Remus—“

“Remus is Remus,” Logan interrupts gently, “turn—yes, there you go—and you are Roman. You are clever, you are kind, and you are wonderful, and I care about you very much.”

He takes a new cotton oval and takes Roman’s chin again, tapping gently until Roman makes eye contact.

“Close your eyes,” he bids, “and let me know if they start to sting at any point.”

Roman closes his eyes and Logan carefully, carefully starts to clean off the eyeshadow. The golden sparkles are stubborn, clinging to the skin, but he works patiently until the last of them come off. He realizes after that the oval is wetter than it was when he began.

“Oh, little star,” he breathes, glancing around and summoning a soft washcloth to clean Roman’s face the rest of the way, “it’s alright, you can cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

“It’s stupid,” Roman mutters, raising a hand to swipe angrily at the tears, “it’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, it’s not stupid.” Logan gently but firmly places Roman’s hands on his own shoulders and replaces them with the cloth. “Tell me?”

“I—it’s not even a quest.” Roman’s voice cracks horribly on the last word. “It’s just—I was making something and it broke and I—I worked really hard on it and now it’s ruined.”

Logan lets out a soft noise. “I’m sorry.”

His chest aches when the apology makes Roman shake himself. “It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t want to just dump that on you.”

“I asked you to tell me what was wrong,” Logan chides, patting his cheek dry, “you’re not dumping anything on me.”

He sets the cloth aside and cups Roman’s face with his hands.

“And I am also sorry,” he whispers, “that I have made you believe that I do not worry about you the same way I worry about Thomas.”

Roman’s eyes fly open. “You—you what?”

“I care about you very deeply, Roman,” Logan says, “you’re very important to me. So yes, of course, I worry about you. You’re upset, and I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me. I…I have not behaved well toward you. And I will remedy that.”

A new wave of tears meets Logan’s thumbs carefully swiping them away.

“Bonk?”

Roman leans forward and lets Logan rest their foreheads together. After a moment, his hands move to give Roman a proper hug, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“What were you making, if I may ask?”

“…just a house.” Roman sniffles. “It got destroyed in the last brainstorm.”

“Would you like help?”

“…don’t we have to work on the ideas?”

Logan smiles, resting their foreheads together once more. “This feels more important, doesn’t it?”

Roman’s small but warm smile is more than worth the extra hours they’ll have to spend working on the videos.

——————————

Somehow they forgot.

Somehow they forgot that Roman was scared of the dark.

It wasn’t common that thunderstorms plagued the Imagination, simply because—well, Thomas didn’t need literal brainstorms when he’s got Logan working with him. Sure, sometimes Remus decides he’s going to make his entrance extra cliché and arrive in a literal flash of lightning. Or Roman will create a field of flowers larger than the eye can see and soft bruised purple clouds will roll across the sky, quiet thunder and light rain that feels like a cushion.

But it’s never enough to cause a blackout.

For a moment, they’re all just confused. Thomas’s apartment is fine, Thomas is fine, so they don’t understand what’s happened. Then Remus points out that they, uh, maybe didn’t close the door to the Imagination as tightly as they should have.

He gets smacked upside the head for that.

So they’re here, in the middle of the dark, trying frantically to figure out how to not run into everything. Well, three of them are fine. Virgil can see in the dark. Janus can see in the dark. Remus can see in the dark.

“Is that because you’re the Dark Sides,” Patton mumbles as he puts his glasses back on for the fifth time in the past minute, “or do you each have some kind of ability?”

Remus smiles, even if Patton can’t see it. “It’s more fun!”

“That doesn’t—“ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose— “that doesn’t even answer the question, Remus.”

“I think you’ll find that’s his justification for most things,” Janus says wryly, taking Patton carefully by the arm and guiding him to sit on the couch, safely out of harm’s way.

Virgil elbows Remus to get him to put down the Morningstar, please, and sits down next to Patton. “How long is this going to take to go away?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Probably won’t be that long. We all just gotta sit tight.”

Janus raises a hand to his mouth—not that Logan can truly appreciate his expression—and mock gasps. “Remus, suggesting that we don’t do anything?”

“Oh, fuck off, Snakey.”

“Language!”

Remus blows a fat raspberry. “Even I know it’s a bad idea to try and do something right now. I mean ask Roman—“

It takes a moment for them to realize that Roman isn’t sitting there.

“We should go get him,” Logan says after a moment, “just to make sure we’re all in the same place.”

And with that, Remus is off, stomping up the stairs and conveniently forgetting that two Sides can’t see past the little pinpricks of light at the bottom of the windows. Virgil rolls his eyes and makes to stand, only to frown.

“Virgil?” Logan touches his elbow when he notices him pause. “Are you alright?”

“Feels like I’m being summoned.” He rubs his chest absentmindedly. “But not really.”

“Well, let’s just keep an eye on—hey!”

Virgil doesn’t even hear the end of Logan’s sentence before he’s yanked into another room.

He blinks, disoriented, shaking his head to figure out where he is. Only when Remus bursts up the stairs and pouts that how dare Virgil sink out to beat him here does he realize why he’s here.

Judging by the way Remus’s face falls a second later, he does too.

Remus knocks lightly on the door. After a moment, he curses and goes to knock louder.

“Don’t,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Remus’s arm, “you’re gonna freak him out more.”

“Well, I can’t just blow the fucking door open,” he growls, shaking him off, “that’s gonna make it worse.”

He opens his mouth but another sharp tug from his chest makes him wince. “Okay, then don’t bust it down. Just—oh, god, we gotta get in there.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Remus doesn’t rear back and kick the door open, which says something about how concerned he is. They can’t see much of anything except for—

—oh.

Oh, no.

Roman notices immediately when the blackout happens. How could he not? He’d been in the middle of trying to sort out his journal for the day when suddenly he was drowning.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Within an instant, his chest seizes. He can’t see. He can’t see. There’s something—

No. No, it’s fine. He’s in his room. Everything is fine. Because he’s safe. He’s in his room, he knows where everything is, he knows what everything is in here, he’s fine.

There’s nothing here to be scared of. There’s nothing here to be scared of.

So why is Roman so scared?

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. He’s a prince, for Disney’s sake, he’s the protector of the Mindscape, he’s—he’s—

He’s Prince Roman. Not some newly minted squire crying because he’s away from home for the first time and it’s all dark and scary and he can’t see anything because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t tell where anything is and he swears he can see things moving in the shadows and—and—and—

Roman shoves his fist in his mouth before he can whimper.

No. No. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

…besides, what would the others say?

He’s a prince. He’s Roman. He’s not some scared weak thing. He’s just—he’s just—it’s—it’s—

They can’t see him like this. He’s supposed to be strong. He’ll never be taken seriously if they don’t see that he can be strong. They don’t take him seriously already, do they? Let alone if they could see him in the dark, alone, hyperventilating, terrified.

But he is.

He’s—he—

Something moves.

Oh, god, something moved.

He freezes, goes absolutely still, tries frantically to still his heaving chest, be small, be unnoticeable, his pride doesn’t matter right now, it doesn’t, he’s not gonna be hurt if he can’t be seen—

“Ro-Bro?”

His next inhale is a whine.

No, no, not Remus—he can’t—not Remus, Remus is strong, Remus will laugh at him, Remus loves the dark, he can’t cry in front of Remus, not for this—

“Oh, Ro-Bro,” he hears through the haze, “Ro-Bro, I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot, hey—hey—“

He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry.

“Hey,” Remus calls, tugging carefully at the hand clapped over his mouth, “hey, don’t do that, Roro, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop it, it’s gonna fucking hurt if you do that, you know that—“

The sob that tears itself out of his throat as Remus pries his hand away hurts his ears.

“Hey, Roro,” Remus soothes, taking his hands and squeezing them firmly, “hey, you gotta just be here for me, you focus on me, okay?”

“Re—“

“Come here, Ro.”

Remus scoops him up into his lap. To hell with whatever is twisting around in the shadows, Remus is holding him in his lap, rocking him back and forth and Remus is of the dark.

A rush of shame through his stomach and the first real sob into Remus’s shoulder hurts.

“Nuh-uh, Ro,” comes the mutter over his head, “don’t hold it in.”

The shame only grows. Then Remus tightens his grip until it’s all he can feel.

“I’m right here, Ro, I’m right here. It’s okay. You can be scared.”

“N-not scared.”

A gentle hiss in his ear as something—someone presses against his back and more arms than he can count wrap around his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Remus murmurs as he starts, “it’s just Janny.”

“Boo,” Janus whispers as he presses a kiss on his shoulder. Why—why is he here—did he—did he lie too much? He’s not scared, he’s not scared—

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers as Roman starts to flinch, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, sweetie, stop that. We’ve got you.”

“You’re scared, bud.” Is that—is that Virgil? “Hey, hey, buddy, we got you. I’m sorry, Roman, I forgot you were so scared of the dark.”

Can’t be scared, can’t be scared—

“Shh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “stop that. You’re allowed to be scared, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Virgil presses closer, nudging Janus’s head out of the way and replacing it with his own. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Roman’s neck, finding the place his collar digs into his neck and loosening it. Curse him. Curse him.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no—“

Janus hisses gently in his ear again.

“No—“ Roman’s breath hitches— “no, no, no—“

“Roman,” comes Logan’s warm voice from somewhere above him, and no—

“Give him to me,” he hears again after a moment, and when he feels Remus’s arms begin to loosen and Janus pulls away he mewls—

“Hush, little one,” Logan says softly, gathering the poor prince into his lap, “you’re safe, you’re right here, it’s just a blackout.”

“You’ll—“ Roman hiccups, his hands still pushing Logan away from him— “you’ll laugh—“

“Never,” comes the chorus, Logan’s arms firmly around his waist. Then another pair of hands covers his and pulls them away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, gently but firmly placing his arms around Logan’s neck so Logan can cuddle him properly, “sorry it took us a little longer to get here, we had to take it slow up the stairs.”

“Pat—Pat—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, crouching down to run a hand through his hair as Logan tucks him into the crook of his neck and Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, “we’re all here, it’s okay.”

“Stupid—st—stupid,” Roman mumbles, “I’m stupid—“

Another hiss, followed by a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Stop lying, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “stop it. You’re not stupid.”

“I’m a prince afraid of the dark,” Roman spits out, disgusted, “of course I’m stupid.”

“Falsehood,” Logan murmurs with more tenderness than Roman can remember, “you’re not stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m crying because I’m afraid of the dark,” he spits again, “I’m af-fraid of the dark—I’m afraid of the dark, I’m—I’m afraid—“

He’s afraid of the dark.

Patton presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t like the dark either, sweetheart.”

“You’re—you’re not—you’re not crying—“

“No, I’m not.” Another kiss. “But you are, Roman, and that’s okay.”

“Come on, Princey.” Virgil butts his head gently against Roman’s. “You just gotta breathe first, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus calls from somewhere over his shoulder—what has he been doing? Where’s he been?— “come on, I got all the pillows.”

“Re?”

“Come on, Ro-Bro,” Remus murmurs, appearing at his other shoulder, “close your eyes.”

“It’s already d-dark, Re.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna get the blanket in your eyes.” Suddenly, there’s a swath of fabric hitting him in the face. “It’s just for a moment, Roro.”

“Ready?” Logan scoops him up. “Up we go.”

“H-how can you see?”

“He can’t,” Janus says, suddenly appearing behind him, “but I can. Come now, my prince, we’re just over here, come on…”

Roman lets out a soft noise of surprise when his back hits something soft.

“Snap yourself into something more comfortable, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’re all just going to stay here for a while.”

Patton takes his hand and kisses the back of it as Logan helps tug down the t-shirt he’s poofed himself into.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, “I’m sorry I’m so scared.”

“None of that now, sweetheart,” Patton chides, cuddling into his side—oh, Patton’s in soft things too now— ��you’re gonna be taken care of now. We’re right here.”

“I’m right here, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, promptly flopping down over Roman’s legs, “and no one else is going anywhere.”

Virgil huffs, curling around his head and ruffling his hair. “He’s right, Princey. Just relax for a little.”

“H-how long is the blackout going to last?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Janus says, snuggling into his other side, taking his hand between two of his, “but we’ll be here the whole time. Now please, sweetie, breathe.”

He tries. But it’s still dark and even though he knows the others are here, he can still feel the darkness pressing in on top of him. He can still see things moving in the shadows. He can feel it. He can see it. It hurts.

“Roman,” comes Logan’s voice, warm in the dark, “Roman, listen to me.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, dear,” he says, “it’s alright. Virgil is by your head, and he can see in the dark.”

Virgil gives his hair a little tug. “Right here, Princey. I’ve got you.”

“Patton is on your left. He won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses his cheek. “I won’t leave you.”

“Janus is on your right. He can also see in the dark, and it’s his job to protect you.”

Janus leans down to kiss his temple and squeezes his hand. “My prince,” he murmurs tenderly, “my sweetie.”

“And Remus…”

“Nothing’s laying a fucking finger on you, Ro-Bro,” Remus growls from down by his feet, “they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

Logan chuckles. “See?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, little star,” he says softly, “what do you need?”

“W—where are you?” Roman’s hands tense in Patton’s and Janus’s. “Where—I—I can’t—“

“Hush now,” Logan says, so softly, so softly, as a hand cups his cheek to brush away his tears, “I’m right here, I know you can’t see me. I’m sorry. I know it’s dark. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay, my dear, shh.”

Roman tries to reach out for him only to be thwarted by the grip on his hands.

“Hush, Roman, it’s alright, what can I do?”

“S-stay, please, stay—I want you to stay—“

“I’m right here, can I—“

“Please—“

He almost sobs again with relief when Logan lies down, his head tucked over his shoulder, curling his arms about his waist.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses the back of his hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, Princey.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Roro.”

It takes another half an hour for the storm to end and the lights to flicker back on. Roman stays tucked up in their arms, their soft words in his ear, gentle hands wiping away his tears, until he can blink up at all of them and murmur ‘thank you.’

“Of course, sweetie.”

“We’re here for you, Roman.”

“It’s no problem, Princey.”

“We’ve got you, kiddo.”

“All you gotta do is ask, Roro.”

——————————

Remus knocks on the door, the present in his hands. Roman opens the door and tilts his head.

“Re?”

“Can I come in, Ro-Bro?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Roman shuts the door. “What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Remus says, holding out the box.

“Oh—Remus, I didn’t—I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t miss anything, Ro,” Remus says quickly, “and I’m not expecting anything in return. Just wanted to give you something.”

He shuffles.

“And I, uh, I also haven’t really apologized for the shit I’ve done to you, so…it’s that too.”

“O-oh.” Roman clutches the box. “Thank you, Remus. Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He watches as Roman carefully opens the box and pulls out the stuffed octopus.

“Oh, Re, this is so cute!” He holds it up, looking at the little face. “I love it, thank you.”

He turns it over.

“Wait, what’s…”

“It’s a mood toy,” Remus says quietly, “if you flip it this way, it’s happy.”

The cream side of the octopus has a little smiley face.

“And if you turn it inside out—“ Roman flips the plush so that a red face frowns at him— “it’s sad.”

Roman’s eyes widen and he looks up at Remus.

“I know you find it hard to ask for things,” Remus says, edging a bit closer, “so I thought this could…help.”

“Re…”

“And I—oof!” Remus lets out a grunt as Roman tackles him onto the bed. He chuckles, his arms wrapping tightly around his brother. “I’m glad you like it Roro, just promise me you’ll use it?”

He gets his request a few days later.

It’s been quiet, Thomas is taking a break, and they’re all in various corners of the living room. Janus and Virgil are lazing about in the patch of sun by the window, Patton is in the kitchen, Logan is working on something on his laptop, and Remus is toying with the grip on his Morningstar.

Roman walks down the stairs and he’s clutching a little red octopus.

“Hey, Ro,” Remus says quietly, hopping up and scurrying over to meet him as he comes down the stairs, “you wanna go be alone?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing gingerly into the living room. Remus turns to see everyone paying attention to them, including Janus, who’s sat up fully and is reaching out to Roman.

“Come here, sweetie,” he calls, “is your brain being a bastard?”

Distantly, Remus hears Patton huff at the language but no one says a word as Janus gathers Roman into his chest, bending to murmur softly in his ear. Virgil scoots closer, acting as the guardian, letting Roman relax with the knowledge that nothing will surprise him right now. A gentle tap on Remus’s shoulder and he turns to see Logan, who bends closer.

“What do we do to help?”

“Help me make a mattress big enough for all of us?”

Under Logan’s guidance, Remus manages to make a normal mattress with lots of comfy blankets and pillows. Patton comes from the kitchen with a glass of water set on the table near the three on the floor. He pauses as he turns and quickly sets a cup of tea next to it.

Roman’s grip on the octopus doesn’t lighten up, even after he’s been in Janus’s arms for a while, even after Logan’s gone over and helped Virgil walk him through coming out of the spiral. Janus walks over to Remus and Patton and quietly tells them they should try and get them all to eat something. Nothing too straining for Roman’s system, but something.

Patton brings out a few bowls of snack food and sets them at the foot of the mattress. Then he goes and gently cards his hands through Roman’s hair.

“Come on, kiddos,” he says softly, “let’s move to the mattress.”

Logan scoops Roman into his arms, depositing him safely in the center of the mattress, little red octopus in tow. The rest of them cuddle around him, some Disney movie playing on the TV. Roman eats, then lays his head on Remus’s shoulder. Logan takes Roman’s free hand into his lap and cradles it there, stroking it with his thumb.

About halfway through the movie, Roman turns the octopus so that the cream side smiles at the screen too.

General:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #logan sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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headinthestaticsky · 3 years

Text

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x My OC Fleur Swan, Chapter 7

AUTHORS NOTES: None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

“I'm afraid to go outside So many people rule my mind, I Can't escape, where is the line? Chained ourselves to overdrive.”

NICE OUT: By Kilo Kish

I didn’t know where I was again, It seemed I was observing a man sitting in a speedboat with his headphones on. I couldn’t see him clearly enough to a identify him at first. I then saw that man again, with the long blonde hair this time, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I didn’t see the second man though I wondered where he was and why was I with this person again. My “body” began to move toward the man against my own will. I finally noticed it was Waylon but instead of terror, I was filled with thirst and eagerness. Waylon seemed to of heard a deep growl coming out of “my” throat and took his headphones off.

“Hello?”

My figure zoomed past his line of sight, he stood up quickly, stumbling a few feet to the front of the boat.

“Gerald? Gerald?”

When he didn’t get a reply, he got too unsettled and started the motor to the boat. Before he could take off though “I” stopped the boat from moving forward. He looked back in shock at me before greeting me.

“Hello” He stuttered.

The man with the long blonde hair then jumped down.

“Nice Jacket.” He said in a sinister tone.

“Who are you?”

“I” started to move closer to him, like an animal after it’s prey.

“It’s always the same, inane questions. Who are you?”

“What do you want?” I said in a completely different voice.

“Why are you doing this?”

Finally the other man that I had seen zipped down from his hiding place, he looked quite bored.

“James, let’s not play with our food.”

As soon as he said that I kicked Waylon to the floor of the boat before pouncing on him.

I finally woke up shooting up from Jasper's chest panting again holding in a scream. I was even more freaked out than the previous dream I had before. This was someone I knew, someone I had fond childhood memories with. Why was I dreaming about killing him?

“What happened? Are you okay? What’s wrong!?” I heard Jasper ask his voice laced with concern.

Tears filled my eyes before spilling down my cheeks, I couldn’t talk it was as if I was paralyzed in fear. He pulled me in, hugging me and rubbing my back.

“I-I had a terrifying nightmare. I felt so real Jazz... I...” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. He hushed me just holding me and trying to comfort me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not right now.”

We sat in silence for a bit and I surveyed my surroundings. The weather report had lied, it was as cloudy as ever looks like Jasper and everyone else could go on that field trip after all. Our silence was then interrupted.

“I’m sorry to leave you like this but, I have to go. Your sister is about to come up.” He said in a hushed voice he kissed me before leaving through the window. My door was opened a minute later Bella had entered the room.

“Hey, did you plan on... are you okay Fleur, you look terrified?” Bella asked.

“Yeah I’m fine, I just had a nightmare... I knew I shouldn’t of watched those horror movies last night.” I lied.

“That sucks...I was just coming up here to ask if you planned on going to the Greenhouse today. You still haven’t gotten your slip signed.” She said.

“Oh yeah, I completely forgot, could you bring my slip down to dad? I have to get dressed real quick.”

“Sure no problem.”

I slowly raised myself up from my bed, the grogginess of last night sleep still lingered on me. A black t-shirt and blue jeans would have to do today. I grabbed a red sweater since I knew it would be freezing today. I grabbed my boots and rushed down the stairs trying not to trip.

“You always were the one to wait til the last minute for things to get signed weren't’ you?” Dad asked playfully.

“You should know me by now dad my motto is “Better late than never.” I replied.

“Well you two better hurry up in eat or you won’t have enough time to like last time. I have to get going early so I’ll see you girls later on today” Dad said.

“Okay, love you dad.” I said.

“Love you dad, be safe.”

Bella and I both ended up eating a fruit salad finishing around the same time. We both head towards her truck since I left it at school yesterday.

“I cannot wait to get my car back! I miss my baby.” I said.

“You love that car way too much you know.” Bella interjected.

“I may love it too much but, it’s still my baby.”

She shook her head while chuckling. The rest of the car ride was mostly quite, but the radio was on. I was surprised it worked, her truck was from the 50′s... We pulled up to the school and I got out of the truck, looking for Jasper right away. Bella seeing this nudge my shoulder before telling me to go after him. I hugged her and thanked her for the ride to school before jogging my way toward him.

“Hey darlin, seems your doin better this mornin aren’t you?” He asked.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better, thanks for earlier.”

“No problem love.” He said before attacking my face with kisses. I giggled before playfully pushing him back. I then turned my head to see Edward glaring at Bella and Mike. He seemed jealous and was intently listening in on there conversation. Bella and Mike had a quick exchange by the end of it, Edward was smirking before making his way onto the bus. I followed in with Jasper after him.

The greenhouse was nice, the different plants was very interesting to me. Jasper and I stopped by a bundle of Yellow Iris’s, my favorite flower. I looked up from the flowers to see Bella and Edward talking.

“What do you think he’s saying to her?” I asked Jasper.

“Probably something stupid.” He replied jokingly.

I sighed... “Just like Edward... to go and something stupid.”

“Yep, pretty much, Darlin.”

Suddenly it seemed the conversation went south, Bella’s face furrowed in anger and then tripped over he own to feet. Edward didn’t look very happy either after catching her and maintained a scowled on his face. Bella stormed off tired of whatever he was saying.

“Did we jinx it? It seems he actually did say something stupid.” I said.

“I think we did love, Edward’s people skills are extemely rusty.”

“Yeah, they definitely are.”

As we made our through the greenhouse, Edward started to follow Bella out of the building. They stopped in front of the bus we were riding in.

“Hey, are you going to join us?” Alice asked.

“Yeah I think we have some room for one more.” Dean said.

“NO, this one’s full.” Edward said curtly before banging on the school bus door. As soon as it opened he stormed inside, Alice and Dean following quickly behind. Jasper and I ended up at the front of the bus.

“I’ll see you at home.” I said.

“Yeah see you later.” Bella replied.”

When we arrived back in the parking lot I made my way to my car. I bid Jasper a goodbye before driving home quickly, I wanted to know how Bella was doing. When I entered the the kitchen Bella and stormed out of the kitchen, I could tell she wanted to be alone so I didn’t bother her. The next school day was pretty uneventful until lunch, Bella had asked me if I wanted to go with her, Angela, Ben, Eric, Tyler, and Mike to La Push beach. I accepted the invitation, it had been a while since I had visited around that area. When Bella went off to get her lunch I decided to tell Jasper where I was going. He was always reluctant for me to go down to La Push for some reason. He never really told me, I understood. I had a feeling it was just a secret he couldn’t tell and I completely understood that, I was in the same situation after all. I wasn’t going to pressure him into telling me anything he didn’t want to. I approached the table, the other Cullens were happy to see me.

“Hey Jazz, you’re going to have to come a bit later tonight, I’m going down to La Push with Bella and her friends.” I said.

I could tell he was uncomfortable with that idea but, he knew how stubborn I was. If I was going to go somewhere, no one was going to get me to change my mind.

“Just be careful, Fleur. It’s a bit dangerous down there.” I heard Rosalie say.

“Don’t make Dean and I come down there and beat someone up Short-stack.” Emmett said while cracking his knuckles.

Alice had nodded in agreement with Emmett.

“Okay, darlin, be safe.” Jasper added.

“I will, you know since I’m here I should probably tell you... Bella’s getting suspicious about you guys. She hasn’t outright said anything about you guys being a vampire but... she might find out soon.” I explained.

Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all looked uncomfortably at each other. Alice on the other hand, didn’t seem phased at all.

“Thank you for warning us Fleur, we’ll try to be a bit more careful with what we do.” Rosalie said.

“If she finds anything at La Push, I’ll let you guys know.”

“Thank you.” Rosalie said.

The school day came and went quickly and soon enough I was driving my way to La Push. This was going to be one interesting visit.

#jasper hale x oc #jasper hale #rosalie hale #jasper hale x reader #edward cullen #alice cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #carlisle cullen #bella swan #twilight #twilight saga

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grey-water-colors · 3 years

Text

After All This Time (Bucky x Fem!Reader) Part 4

It's short, but I cried writing it. I've hit a bit of a writers block, but I think I've got that sorted out. I just needed to take a thinking shower and I got it. This will be my longest series and I'm trying to eek it out a bit, but I'm still new at this, so please have patience.

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the figurative ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talk of torture, death, triggers. Mentions of humiliation. Sadness, depression, self-loathing. ANGST. Fluff comes next time I think.

Word Count: 2,066 Shorter than usual, but I think I make up for it in feels.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock at the door startles Y/N out of her thoughts. She hadn’t really left the apartment for anything other than her job, which was only two days a week. Despite having almost completely shutting down, the house was clean.

Y/N opened the door and gaped at the person on the other side.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve just smiled. “May I come in?”

She opened the door wider so Steve could walk through, then shut the door gently. She turned around and watched Steve walk to the couch on the opposite wall and take a seat. She opted to perch on the arm of the wingback.

“To what do I owe this visit?”

Steve laughed quietly, amused with her. “I could say I just wanted to visit an old friend,” he smiled.

Y/N smiled but it fell as soon as it came. “But that isn’t the case is it?”

Steve sighed and she could see the same wear and tear in his eyes that every soldier carried around. He looked older, despite looking only in his 30’s. She supposed war does that to people though.

“I’m here to apologize for Bucky. He was out of line. I could hardly believe that he did what he did. I had hoped that if I gave him time, he would come here and do it himself.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him. I get it. I really do, and to a certain degree, he was right. But I have my own reasons for being here.”

Steve just nodded. “Has Sam told you about him?”

She let out a harsh laugh. “He didn’t need to. I was there. I know full well what he went through.”

“I wish I knew-,” he paused. “I wish I knew how to help. To ease his burden.”

“We all have our crosses to carry, some heavier than others. What we, and hundreds of others, went through was a horrific experience that isn’t easily put into words. He seems better though, right?”

Steve nodded, looking for words, “He isn’t the same.”

“None of us are,” she whispered. “That’s not the point of it though. If you’re trying to get the old Bucky back then you’re beating a dead horse. Help him become who he is now. Someone with more baggage than any person should ever carry. Don’t try to change him.”

“I’ll work on that. Speaking of people who have changed, are you ok? Sam says you haven’t been down to the VA in a while. He’s getting worried.”

Y/N shrugged and looked away. She wasn’t ok, but if she told that to Steve, he would do everything in his power to help her and she didn’t want his kind of help.

She put on a small smile. “If we’re going to talk about people changing, I think we should talk about you. What happened to scrawny Steve? You were my height the last I saw you and now you’re a buff giant.”

He laughed. “I’ve a lot to catch you up on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve. Before you leave, I’ve got something that I was hoping you’d give to Jam- Bucky.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Y/N handed him a letter. The writing on the outside just said ‘Bucky’.

“I’ll get this to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on Bucky’s door, then Steve walked in. Bucky looked at Steve with a look of sadness and self-loathing.

“What’d she say?” he whispered.

“That there was no reason to apologize.”

Bucky huffed. “Bullshit. I yelled at her. I called her weak and pathetic,” he looked away. “She would say something like that though.”

Steve sighed. “She gave me this to give to you.” He held out the letter.

“What’s in it?”

“No idea. She didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

Bucky nodded, reluctant to open it.

Steve stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll let you read that in peace. I’ll be in the gym if you need me.”

Steve walked out and Bucky stared at the envelope in his hands. It was thick, and there was something small and lumpy in it.

He looked at, debating whether to open it or to put it in a drawer and leave it there till ate him alive. Curiosity got the best of him.

He opened the seal of the envelope with care, being sure not to rip it. When it was open he turned it over and something fell into his lap. His heart dropped.

There, on his lap, was the ring that been used to propose to her with. The last he had saw it, it had been nestled next her dog tags in the master bedroom. Why was it here?

He pulled out the folded paper and opened it. Smaller papers fell out onto his lap. They were old and had yellowed with time. He picked through some of them. His Social Security card, his birth certificate, and his bank papers. Everything he needed to restart his life outside of the avengers.

He finally started reading the letter.

~~~

Dear James,

Can I even call you James anymore? The only other person who called you that was your mother and maybe your sisters. There are so many things that I wanted to tell you when I saw you. To say to you, but then things, well you were there. I feel like I owe you a bit of an explanation.

As you know, I was to leave a week after you. My orders were to fly to London to work there for three weeks, then get new orders. That’s not important though. What is important is that week that I spent alone was torture.

I wasn’t raised ignorant of the troubles of the world. Just like the rest of our age, I grew up in the Great Depression. My parents lost their job, and we almost lost our house. I grew up with the aftermath of the first World War. According to my mother, my father never recovered. War does that to people. It rips away your soul, takes your very being. I knew that.

When the second World War started, I would lay awake next to you and pray that US wouldn’t get involved. It was my worst nightmare. When the US did join, I knew, somehow that our lives were over. You probably don’t remember that I spent almost every waking moment with you. I was so happy when you proposed, but heartbroken as well. I just knew.

Knew that we weren’t coming back.

I spent the days of that week after you left getting things in order. Papers in the lockbox, hide the lockbox key. Cover the furniture to preserve it. I took care of everything. I left the ring in the lockbox.

I spent my nights awake in your chair, wondering what you were doing. Wondering if you were thinking of me. I’ll never know.

I was in Germany during December of 44. I was traveling with a group of soldiers. Everything happened so fast. Gunshots, yelling, blood. So much blood. That shade of red in the snow will always be etched into my brain. The German soldiers took prisoners, I was one of them. Out of the 25 I was traveling with, I ended up being the only survivor.

I transferred into the hands of Hydra. A replacement for a dead lab rat. My predecessor. They tortured me for so long. Wore me down to nothing. Humiliated me for game.

Every night as I laid in my cell, all I could think of was you. The memories of us in those three years. How perfect they were.

Of course, they weren’t perfect. We had fights, but they were never too bad. The apartment itself wasn’t great either, but it was home. The ceiling leaked in the bathroom, the floors creaked in the hallway, and the water took fifteen minutes to heat up. When you’re being tortured though, I guess that the mind only sees the good. I fixated on the apartment. It became the safe place. The only place in the world where the monsters couldn’t get to me. I held onto this place as long as I could.

But as much as the apartment was my safe place, all my memories of it were with you. So you had melted into that feeling of safety.

After they blocked away those memories, I didn’t even know they were gone. I became their puppet, a lab rat with no past or identity. Until I met you again. I didn’t know you, those memories were tucked away. My heart knew you though. I felt safe around you, which didn’t make sense because you were the Winter Soldier. Oh, but we worked well together. We did a couple missions, and I was living off an emotion I didn’t even know the name to.

Love. I didn’t know what that word even meant anymore, or what it felt like, but my heart reminded me every time you looked at me.

In the end, it was my fault that you ended up with the trauma you carry around pertaining to me. I got emotional when it was time to go, and we both suffered the consequences for it.

That happened in 1997. I went onto ice for the last time with a damaged windpipe, minor brain damage, and no memories to speak of. I was sent to Africa, and was going to be undergoing testing there, but my handlers got killed. I remained on ice for 27 years until Wakandan soldiers found me.

Shuri worked for 6 months to get rid of all the damage done to me with help of the notes that traveled with me. I spent 7 more months drowning in everything. I remembered everything. Every test, every horrid thing they did to me. But the worst part was remembering you. Remembering you and knowing what happened to you broke me.

It turns out I was right all along. We weren’t going back. I had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t going to come back to me. So I reveled in the memories of you. Of us.

I had so many emotional setbacks, I was stuck reliving memories just from small triggers. A wrong look could send me spiraling into a black hole. But then I’d remember the apartment.

I couldn’t wait to go back. The one thing that had kept me sane, alive, and hopeful. The king paid for a plane ticket and I was back in New York. I wasn’t ready.

I had been so stuck in remembering that I didn’t, couldn’t, process the new. Still I persisted, until I could be in that apartment again. I had convinced myself that it would fix everything.

That it would fix me.

But you probably know that isn’t how life works. Those same memories that propelled me and kept me afloat, are now the anchor that drags me under. I’m drowning in the memories, and they cling to me. I’m trapped in a prison of my own making, unable to leave the ghosts haunting my memories of things that will never be again.

I stay awake at night reliving the days where I was happy, carefree, and in-love. But the truth is that I can’t sleep in the bed we shared because you aren’t in it. I can’t look at pictures of us, because we aren’t them anymore. I can’t wear the ring, because we are strangers.

So I live in a museum of things that shouldn’t exist anymore because I can’t move on. This apartment is killing me inside, but I can’t leave because I’ve convinced myself that this is the only place I’ll be safe.

The truth is, I am safe in this apartment, because the only thing that can hurt me here is myself.

Along with this letter, I’m also returning the ring. It belongs to you. I have also included your bank account numbers, so that you can access your accounts. I’m sure you won’t have as much trouble as I did.

I’d offer you a key, but I don’t think you’d ever want to step foot in here again. Truthfully, if I were you, I wouldn’t either, lest you get stuck here too.

Maybe in another life we could have been together longer, but just not in this one.

Love,

Sincerely,

Y/N

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky fic #mcu #mcu imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel universe #the avengers #x reader #reader insert

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caranfindel · 3 years

Text

Take these broken wings and learn to fly (15.20 coda)

het, but Wincest-compatible | about 2300 words | PG-13 for language | characters: sam winchester, sam’s blurry wife |

Julia has been widowed (God, what an awful word, widowed) for three years when she meets Sam. It’s a work-based friendship at first. She’s kind of lonely and sad, he’s kind of lonely and sad, and they gravitate toward each other. And then one evening they’re at a bar, the last ones left from an after-work happy hour, both of them drinking more than they should, and she thinks he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and he may be 10 years older than me but he’s still hot as hell and I enjoy being with him and I look forward to seeing him and maybe I should just… and she kisses him. He’s shocked; shocked enough to confirm that he wasn’t just hanging around hoping to make it out of the friendzone. And then he’s holding her face in his hands and he’s kissing her too.

It’s good. They’re good together. It’s not the earth-shattering, all-encompassing romance she had with Shaun. Julia knows she’ll never have anything like that again. Most people don’t even get one soulmate in their lives; no one gets two. And she knows Sam doesn’t have that same desperate love that Shaun had for her; she knows she’ll never have his whole heart. (She knows the woman he intended to marry was killed in a fire, she knows another woman he loved went back to her ex. She doesn’t know which of these women still owns that last piece of Sam’s heart.) But she loves Sam, and he loves her, and they get married.

(The sex is amazing. Sometimes he’s gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid he’ll break her, and other times he’s fierce and passionate and almost tries to break her, and she loves both ends of the spectrum.)

She suggests they melt down her old wedding band to make a new one. It was an heirloom from her grandmother, a plain wide band of yellow gold that she loves, that she thought she’d wear for the rest of her life. But Shaun is the one who put it on her finger the first time. It doesn’t seem right to ask Sam to accept it now. A new band from the old gold seems like a good compromise. No, Sam says, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I know a way we can make it ours. He has the inside of the band engraved with the same symbol he wears tattooed over his heart, and makes her promise to never take it off. Bad luck, he says.

He’s such a contradiction. Scary smart, but as superstitious as an Appalachian grandmother. Calm and unflappable, but with a weirdly hyperactive startle reflex. Kind and empathetic, but capable of extreme violence when pushed to his limits (seriously, don’t walk your drunk ass up to Sam Winchester’s wife and lay hands on her, and don’t get mouthy when she tells you to back off) and just really, frighteningly skilled at that violence.

(A little frightening and also very sexy. Julia’s always had a thing for the hero type.)

They both have nightmares. One night Julia watches Shaun’s face melting under his gear and wakes with a cry of horror. Sam holds her as she tearfully describes living on the knife edge of constant fear that comes with loving someone whose job is literally running into burning buildings. I know, he says, over and over, even though he can’t possibly know. The irony of their first loves both dying in flames is not lost on her, but it’s not like his college girlfriend was a firefighter. It’s not like he watched her go to work every day and prayed she’d make it home alive.

Julia’s pregnancy is a wonderful surprise. She and Shaun had tried for over a year before she was widowed, and she just didn’t count on it happening with Sam. They agree not to name the baby after anyone they’ve lost. Let’s not name him after our pain, she says, and Sam is okay with that. (Or he isn’t. But ever since she showed him the positive pregnancy test, she’s known she could ask him for anything. She’s known he would rip out his heart and serve it on a platter if she asked for it.)

But they haven’t decided on a name yet when her water breaks four weeks early. When their perfect baby boy is born at 12:10 a.m., the nurse announces the date and time and Sam looks up at her in shock and blinks away happy tears and says it’s the 24th. It’s my brother’s birthday. Julia is flying high on endorphins; she loves this baby and she loves this man and she even loves his dead brother she never got to meet, and she says it’s got to be a sign; let’s name him Dean.

She takes off her wedding ring, just this once, to have Dean’s birthdate engraved on the inside. Sam does the same with his own ring. He insists they go to a jeweler who will engrave while they wait, rather than leaving the rings there. She waves a hand at her lumpy postpartum body. You afraid someone’s gonna make a move on all this if you don’t keep a ring on it?

He laughs at her and says you’re onto me, even though he’s the one who needs to be locked away, still with that long lean runner’s body and the amazing shoulders and the goddamn dimples. I just don’t like us being without them, he says. He is a sweet, sentimental fool and she adores him. He bends down to kiss her, carefully maneuvering the baby he’s wearing in a sling, and Julia looks at this man and this baby and this life she didn’t think she was get to have and knows she’s happier than she has any right to be. And she’s relieved when Sam slips the ring back onto her finger, this ring imbued with the men she loves, so maybe he’s not the only sentimental fool.

(One thing she loves about Sam is that he understands why she feels guilty that Shaun didn’t get to share this life with her.)

In July they light a little candle for Dean’s six-month birthday. When Julia wakes the next morning, Sam’s side of the bed is empty and cold. She finds him cuddling their sleeping baby in the living room. I got up to give him a bottle, Sam says. I guess I just fell asleep out here. His red-rimmed eyes and empty coffee mug suggest he didn’t actually sleep at all, but, well. They’re both battling their own private demons. If a night cradling the baby gives Sam some peace for whatever reason, she’s glad of it.

Sam’s fierce love for their child takes her by surprise. If Julia has 90% of his heart, his son has 110%. He parents with a vengeance, is the only way she can think of to describe it. Like he’s making up for something. She doesn’t feel slighted, but it’s impossible to ignore that ever since Dean was born, Sam’s prime objective has been to make sure the boy is happy and safe. Everything else comes second.

(When she notices Sam has been carefully marking his tattoo symbol onto Dean’s clothing, hidden near seams and always in a color that almost matches the fabric, she decides not to say anything. He gets a little funny about his superstitions sometimes.)

Sam desperately wants Dean to have a sibling, and they try for another one, but it doesn’t happen. Julia reminds him that they’re lucky to have even one child. That having a sibling is not a lifetime guarantee of companionship and love. She should know, after all, since Stephanie cut her off after she married that asshole Scientologist and decided she couldn’t have a relationship with anyone who wasn’t also in their stupid cult.

Dean has plenty of friends and tons of activities, which Sam encourages with an almost religious fervor, but he never pulls away from his parents. They have so much in common, Sam and his son. Instead of rebelling as a teenager, Dean seems to grow even closer to his father. They spend hours together, paging through the ancient books in Sam’s study (she hates them, they smell musty and make her sneeze) or driving in the old Chevrolet. They even travel together sometimes, visiting those friends of Sam’s that live up north somewhere. Julia met them at the wedding and they were perfectly nice, thrilled to death that she and Sam had found each other. But she always feels like an outsider when they’re around, like they’re part of something she’ll never understand. So much history, with Sam and the brother she never got to meet. They absolutely dote on Dean though, and he seems to love them too, so the boys’ trip to Sioux Falls becomes an annual event.

(Dean is 14 years old when he comes home from one of these trips with his own version of the tattoo.)

When Julia is diagnosed with cancer, Dean is 16 years old. Sam does his best to ensure life goes on as normal for their son but somehow never neglects Julia’s needs. He throws himself into research and is always on top of the latest treatment, always at her elbow with the top internet-recommended remedy for her side effects, making sure both she and Dean have everything they want and need, all the attention and support they can tolerate. She doesn’t know when, or if, Sam actually sleeps. When she feels up for it, he arranges experiences for the three of them. A week lying on the beach, a weekend in New York City, a night in the mountains looking at the stars. When we look back on this time, he says, I don’t want us to only remember how much it sucked. I want us all to have good memories too.

(She doesn’t know why he’s concerned about her memories. There’s a good chance she won’t have much time to enjoy them. But it’s good for Dean. She doesn’t want this to ruin Dean’s childhood.)

Sam insists Dean go away to college as planned. Julia agrees, although she’s kind of surprised he’s willing to let the boy out of his sight. Aren’t you going to miss him? she asks.

So much, he answers. But this isn’t about me, and what I need. It’s about him. They drive Dean to school in the ancient Chevrolet. Supposedly because the trunk has room for all of his stuff, but Julia is pretty sure it’s just one last sentimental road trip in the old thing before Sam retires it. When they pick Dean up at the end of the school year, it’s in her SUV. Dean promises his father, more than once, that he’ll restore the Chevy someday.

Five years after Julia’s diagnosis, she’s sitting in the doctor’s office learning that her last remission was her last remission. There are no more options. She has months, not years. Sam clutches her hand and nods, once, as if to say I should have known this would happen; I should have expected something like this. Then he takes her home.

It’s a blessing in a way, he says late that night, after a little too much to drink. Knowing what’s coming. Having time to say goodbye. You don’t always get that. And yes, she knows this as well as anybody does.

Sam has always been supportive of her choice not to contact Stephanie, but one day he says Jules, I promise I’ll never bring it up again. It’s just that I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you miss the opportunity to say things that you’ll wish you’d said. Julia isn’t sure Steph will speak to her. She’s not even sure she’ll have the same phone number — they haven’t spoken since Dad’s funeral, a year after she was widowed — but she makes the call. And Steph answers. And cries. And comes to visit, where she hugs and cries some more. Sam watches it all with a sad smile for a while, then disappears into the garage to sit in the old Chevy.

When Julia takes her last conscious breaths, Dean is holding one hand and Sam is holding the other. She squeezes her son’s hand and thinks I love you, dear boy, and I’m sorry I have to leave you. She squeezes her husband’s hand and thinks thank you for giving me this, thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me and letting me love you. Then she closes her eyes and lets the soft, warm darkness take over.

And then. Then she wakes to a cool breeze and the sound of chirping birds. She’s standing at a lake she recognizes. It’s Shaun’s favorite fishing spot. And Shaun is there, waiting for her. And everything is okay.

Sam does show up eventually. Julia’s sitting on the porch of the cabin with Shaun, enjoying the perpetual nice day (sometimes a spring morning, sometimes a fall afternoon, but always nice) when she hears the familiar rumble. It cant be, she thinks. It can’t be that old car. But it is.

I’m glad you found someone with good taste in cars, Shaun says, as Sam unfolds himself from the driver’s seat. He looks exactly as he did the day she met him; no glasses, only a little grey at his temples. Still tall and strong and beautiful. She runs to meet him and embraces him as Shaun watches from the porch.

You found Shaun, Sam says. I’m so happy for you, Jules. I really am. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of joining her (their) Heaven permanently, but he doesn’t seem to have anyone else with him either. Where is the dead girlfriend? How is this fair?

They talk about Dean, and Julia’s heart swells with pride over her strong, smart, kind, brave son. He’s like you, she says. He’s just like you.

Sam shrugs. He’s a Winchester.

But what about you? she says. You’re not — you’re not alone here, are you?

Nah, he says. I’m good. I promise.

(Eventually Julia meets the first Dean, and she understands.)

===

I know a lot of people have mocked Sam's blurry wife, but I actually have grown to love the concept. Because it means she can be anything we want her to be. And yeah, initially I liked the idea of her being Dr. Cara, or Eileen. But now I don't think that would happen. I think Sam would have to start fresh to have that kind of relationship. And I also like the idea of Sam's wife having her own soulmate somewhere, waiting for her, so she's not a huge part of Sam and Dean's shared Heaven. I mean, they're gonna visit, obviously. And then they'll go home to their soulmates.

The title is from "Blackbird" by the Beatles.

#spn #15.20 #my fic #episode coda #sam winchester

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darkeninganon · 3 years

Text

Heyo! Back at it again with Ghost Dream (Gream). He has a little weirdness happen in this chapter, mostly because my brain just yeeted off to Pluto. I don’t think I need any Trigger warnings, I mean... Tommy gets a little shaken up emotionally, but beyond that, this is a pretty safe chapter.

Gream smiled, setting up the final blocks to complete the diorama on the table. It had taken many days, but finally Gream had completed it, with the help of Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy. It was an exact replica of the server. Well, with a few changes. Some places had no walls, and the building in place of the prison was nothing more than an obsidian box surrounded by red and orange string. There were also the dolls, almost exact replicas of the people of the SMP.

Almost.

Tomothy had a blue sweater on, instead of whatever the real Tommy was wearing. William was grey-skinned, had no white streak, and was wearing a yellow sweater. Prezbo was wearing a classy suit, reflecting his position of power. Lethe was wearing a cloak and bandages over his eyes. Gream even made one like himself, naming it "Nightmare", it lacked a mask though. He was not about to try and figure out how to make a doll-sized mask. There were so many more as well: A centaur-like creature named "The Warden" sat on top of the prison box, a tall cloaked figure standing in a sandy area along with many other smaller ones, including a fox man; most notably was a figure in a bloody suit with crooked eyes, a pink scar slashing vertically through one, a beanie, a gold tooth, and a square smile. "Fangs", "Raev", "Sir"....

Gream shook his head, fear and dread creeping up his spine and making his stomach roll. He sighed, setting the dolls down after inspecting them. Raev was his favorite in the group; Gream had given him bright orange hair and a smile, plus a cute green-black suit. It clashed with the hair and fur, but Gream didn't mind, it was kind of cute in a way.

Gream continued to just stare at the little scene, sitting cross-legged as he took it all in. All of these characters were related, their stories tied together in some way. Gream reached over, pulling Nightmare from the little brick house he stood on and placing the doll in the cell The Warden stood on. That was where Nightmare belonged.

Gream spun to look at the door as the floor creaked, Tommy looming in the doorway, staring at the ghost.

"Hey there. Your table is finally done?" The teen asked, stepping into the room and over to the table. He wouldn't deny, it made him nervous; it was a replica of the SMP with New L'Manburg, the oldest version of the Community House, and the maximum security cell of the prison, plus Snowchester and Las Nevadas. It was like the server had been spliced between several time periods. "Looks good."

Gream looked back at the table, nodding. "Thanks. I also made the dolls." Gream motioned to them. He noticed Tommy tense, specifically when looking at the one in the prison. "That's Nightmare. He belongs in jail."

Tommy knew Dream was... quiet, to put it lightly, but he had never seen Gream do the same. "Yeah, and why's that?" he asked, sitting next to the ghost.

"He did a lot of bad things." Gream grabbed the doll, pulling it from the "jail" to look at it more.

"Well... sometimes people do bad things for a good reason-"

"That doesn't make it okay. Nightmare did a lot of bad things. He wanted to have a family... He wanted Tomothy to be his little brother, but Tomothy chose William, and William was a megalomaniacle dick to everyone, even Nightmare. But then William died and things got better." Gream placed Nightmare back in the cell. "But... William managed to convince Tomothy that Nightmare was evil, and Nightmare saw people drifting apart because he gave Prezbo a test, and Prezbo failed it." He grabbed the two dolls, holding them close. He then placed Prezbo back in the town he had built, placing Tomothy in a bare plains-like area with wooden fort-like walls around him. "Prezbo kicked Tomothy out of their home because Nightmare got mad and threatened the town. Then, Nightmare tried to... twist? Corrupt? No, neither of those words work..."

Tommy's breath hitched, and it took a moment for him to speak; "Manipulate?" His voice pitched up. Fuck, he really had to get that under control. It was such a tell.

Gream looked to Tommy, nodding solemnly. "Yeah. Nightmare tried to manipulate Tomothy into liking him. Like William had done when alive. Instead, Tomothy just hated him more." Gream picked up another doll, rolling it around. "Then, Nightmare asked for Lethe's help. A favor. Lethe needed to protect the server, but he had to forget everything unless there was actual danger. A True threat. They cast some... spell or something, and Lethe forgot." Gream placed the doll in the area that looked like Snowchester, and now Tommy could see who it looked like: Ranboo. "there is a way to reverse it, but... I don't know if Lethe knows it."

Tommy watched, listened. It was so obvious who was meant to be who. It was like Gream... Wait... "Hey, so... you said Nightmare wanted a family, right?"

"Yeah."

"So... he made everyone think he was evil... and now he's in jail, yeah?"

"That's right. Mostly. He is in jail."

"Well... did... I mean, how did he get in there?"

Tommy watched as Gream seemed to think, staying silent and still before grabbing "Nightmare" from his cell. "Well... everyone teamed up against him. But... even though he'd never see anyone again, he was happy."

"Why?"

"Because, they were finally a family." Gream placed the little doll back in the cell. His voice was soft, wistful.

Tommy nodded. "Pardon me." He stood and left, Gream nodding to show he had heard. Tommy barely made it to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he finally broke. Gream was... He wasn't just playing out his memories, he was sharing what he felt and his thoughts at the time. Dream was... Jealous? No, that didn't excuse his actions, at all! He was still worse than... But... No, he wasn't. Dream was just more physical, less mental.

Tommy took out his communicator, sending a message to Tubbo and Ranboo: We need to talk. Meet me at Snowchester. Bring the others Ranboo. Tommy grit his teeth. He couldn't let Wilbur near Gream. Wilbur would see Gream as an easy mark, and likely a way into Las Nevadas. Sure, seeing Dream's version of everyone on the SMP was unnerving, but it was even more unnerving that he has so perfectly replicated Quackity and Las Nevadas. Quackity who was likely the reason Gream even existed in the first place, and also someplace Dream had never seen. Gream probably didn't even know he had done that.

Tommy swung open the front door, hoping to meet the others right at the tunnel; nearly smacking right into Wilbur. Fuck.

"Tommy! There you are! Now, look, I know me and Quackity were a bit intense-"

"Not now Wilbur."

"Okay, but hear me out! We need so much more stone, and more importantly, we need to team up with-"

"I have more important things to worry about here."

"It'll just take a moment! We team up with Tubbo and Ranboo and let them expand into our land right by Las Nevadas, and-"

"I'll talk to you about it later, alright?"

"Alright, but real quick, We also need to come up with a plan to get Dream out of Prison-" Tommy tensed, unseen by Wilbur; "Because, you know, he has that book that brought me back. God, imagine how useful that'll be! No more death ever! We can fight for eternity and no one can stop-"

Wilbur's head was snapped to the side. Tommy had punched him. "He's not a fucking tool you can just lock up once you're done using him! What the fuck man?!" Wilbur groaned, rubbing his jaw as he slowly turned to look at Tommy, clearly wanting to say something, but too shocked to do so. "You will... never get the revive book, or the power it holds... Dream is... I hope Sam kills you again." Tommy turned away from Wilbur, storming over to the tunnel. He knew Wilbur was following silently behind, confused and desperate to say something, to get to the bottom of why Tommy just punched him.

Tommy stood by the tunnel, furious. Sure, Dream was a dick, and everything would have been solved if Dream had just talked to Tommy, but at the same time... Asking Gream more about Nightmare would shed some light. But he needed everyone else to show up first, to see what Gream was doing. Tommy tapped his foot, staring at the sky as they waited for everyone else.

Ranboo burst from the tunnel, trident in hand, panicked expression, netherite on. "What's going on?!" Someone crashed into the poor half enderman, causing him to make that distinct noise of an enderman in pain as they crashed to the ground.

"Shit! Sorry-" Phil couldn't complete his apology as the rest on the Syndicate tumbled out of the hyper tunnel, crashing into each other.

Tommy snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh as the four people untangled themselves. Ah yes, the most fearsome group on the server, couldn't navigate a hyper tunnel. Tommy lost it as Tubbo came speeding out of the tunnel with a scream, crashing into his platonic husband and causing Ranboo to let out another pained enderman noise. Something about Ranboo yelling like an enderman was just so funny to Tommy, surely he was cursing in the language of the End.

"What did you want to talk to us about, Tommy?" Niki cut in, her usually calm voice cold, snapping Tommy out of his laughing fit.

"Right, uh... Let’s walk and talk, yeah? It's a little tough to explain." Tommy lead the group to the mansion, casting a quick glare at Wilbur. "So, you all know about Gream, yeah? Of course you do, anyways, he was building and working on a table to play games with when it comes to spending time with Big Mike, since neither are really allowed to leave due to safety." Tommy glanced back, making sure everyone was following along; Techno and Wilbur looked completely lost, while Niki looked confused but was clearly listening. "So, the thing about this table, more importantly the dolls he made for the table, is that they're... well... This is going to sound really weird, but it’s everyone and everywhere on the server. You’ll see." Tommy pointed to the door, and everyone crowded around to peer into the room.

Gream sat by the table, looming over it. Even with the cursed mask on, it was clear he was concentrating hard on something. The table and dolls had his full attention. Tommy motioned for everyone to linger back, hiding just outside the door-frame; before he walked in, he let out a quiet cough to not startle Gream. The ghost looked up at the noise, spotting Tommy and nodding at the teen.

"Hey Gream. I... actually had a question for you about that uh... Nightmare character." Tommy carefully walked up to the table, pulling the doll from the cell.

"Well, ask then."

Tommy smiled nervously, fidgeting with the toy. "Well... You said he did bad things because he was angry... jealous, actually. Um, why didn't he just talk it out?" It was such a huge risk, and for all Tommy knew, this could make Gream angry and have the ghost snap like he did back at his house.

Gream was silent, perking up as if thinking about something. Finally, he sighed. "Nightmare... Nightmare can't figure out his emotions... and he doesn't like talking about them... Someone... Hurt him once, someone he loved. It’s something I understand, but... you prefer talking about things, right?"

Tommy was quiet, frozen. "What?"

"I..." Gream pulled on the edges of his mask, a puddle of acid began to form under him. "Ever since the incident with Jack and Puffy I... Tommy, you're not telling me the truth, are you? No one is!"

Tommy flinched. He could hear netherite armor being thrown on behind him, but he took a breath, relaxing as he placed the doll back in the cell. "You're right. I haven't been honest. But-" Tommy held his hand up as Gream glared at him; "But I have my reasons. Nightmare... He did bad things for a good reason... He knew he'd go into jail for it, didn't he?"

Gream was silent, thinking again before nodding.

"That's why he asked Lethe for a favor. Well... People do bad things for good reasons all the time. I'm... withholding information from you for some very good reasons. It's not just for your safety, it's also for me. The things I'm keeping from you... they're things I don't like talking about, ever." Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. It sucked having to try to explain it, but now... Now they'll get to see things from Dream's view... something that no one was interested in before-

"Dream died?!"

Tommy cringed as he was reminded that Wilbur was there. "Yes, Dream died. Congradu-"

Wilbur shoved Tommy out of the way, grabbing Gream's hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's amazing to meet you! You and I were such- Oh man, we had so much fun together! I was... What was the word again? Oh yeah! I was your vassal! You helped me blow-"

Tommy shoved Wilbur away. "Alright, enough! Leave the poor guy alone!" Tommy stood between Wilbur and the ghost, Gream didn't need to know that he helped destroy L’Manburg or was a traitor or anything like that. Wait... Tommy shook his head. Dream was never really on their side.

"You... I don't like you."

"I'm.... What? What do you-"

"You're a megalomaniac aren't you?" Gream crossed his arms, glaring at Wilbur from behind his mask. "You... You were... Why do I hate you?" Gream turned away, pacing around until he looked to the table. He grabbed Nightmare and William, setting them up along with Tomothy on a hill. He stared at them, gently fiddling with Nightmare as he stayed quiet.

Wilbur went to go say something, but Tommy stopped him, staring intently at the ghost.

"You could have been a good leader... But I don't want to be a good leader. I hate you so much, I'm going to be worse than ram man... I will tear this place apart because I hate you... Tomothy gave up everything and you gave up nothing, you are going to get him killed..."

Gream removed Tomothy, setting him up with Prezbo on top of an obsidian wall. "Can't we all just be a family... No, you're the bad guy... but why?" Gream stopped, picking up Nightmare and holding him close. "But why?"

#Gream #Ghost Dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Gream is trying to remember things #but he doesn't see himself/Dream/Who Dream Became as the same #So if he were to ever make a ''pre-wilbur'' version of himself #he'd call it Dream as opposed to Nightmare #I was super creative with names wasn't I? XD #He also references the incident with George #angst

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sashi-ya · 3 years

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{+18} - Law x Fem Best Friend ♥ CH.2

♥ Daily living with the Heart pirates crew AU ♥ Spoilers after Dressrosa Arc. Law´s backstory. ♥ Female reader. Little physical description. Everybody is 18+, canon ages. ♥ TW: Nightmares related to PTSD. Little NSFW. no further warnings. If you think I should include some feel free to tell me ♥Thank you for the likes and follows, I appreciate it them so so much! If you wanna know when I’ll be updating the next chapters, you can follow me on Twitter @LawIsMyWaifu, come interact I love to have mutuals that love Law and One Piece as much as I do ♥

Word count: 4.1K

» List of parts: {CH1} {CH2} {CH3} {CH4} {CH5} «

Chapter 2.

The sound of his low, raspy voice resonated all over my head, making my body react instantly. I gasped as I felt a strike of pleasure travelling down my stomach to in between my legs. Closing my eyes, unable to move, I didn’t want to move, I wanted him to keep whispering, to kiss my neck… “Hahahaha, I’m sorry, I’m just fooling around, your face, you look astonished Y/N-ya”, he said while laying back on the bed, laughing. I chuckled as I stood up brushing my clothes as if I was trying to fix them. “Stop it, I’m not into that you ass. Goodnight”, I said trying to dissimulate how agitated and embarrassed I was.

Almost running, I left the room, directly to mine, holding on my hand my underwear. I jumped to my bed resting violently on my back. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” ... a little time passed until I passed out.

Hard knocks on my door woke me up. “Vice-Captain!! wake up! breakfast is ready!!!” Clione shouted from the corridor. “God damn how many times I have to tell this whole crew I fucking hate being awakened with shouting?” I mumbled annoyed, covering my face with the sheets.

I was brushing my hair when I remembered my “memory box” for some reason. Opened my drawer and found the little velvet red box that holds my “treasures”. Inside, there is a photo of my parents with me when I was 7, happy, eating some ice cream with them. It was taken during one of “the white parades”, on Flevance, before everything turned into hell. A little blue bow that my little sister used to wear, some photos of Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin and me when we were the only members of our crew. And, a necklace Law made with some seashells as a gift for my 15th birthday, were also inside.

I got watery eyes while looking at it, “I must be getting old”, I thought, “I got emotional over the memories” ... laughed and put everything back to its place.

“Morning..” I said, greeting the whole crew that was already devouring their breakfast. I noticed Law wasn’t there, so I had to ask. Uni told me he was in the control room preparing for the arrival at the next island. I took a few pancakes and some tea and headed to the control room to ask my captain if he needed help.

“Good morning, doc”, I saluted him. Law that was seated facing the controls, turned the chair to look at me nodding. He has more dark circles as always, so I asked him, “Oi, did you sleep last night? are you feeling sick again?”. “I’m ok, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I got caught up with the book I was reading”, he answered with his usual unfriendly tone. “Yeah, right” I answered back, rolling my eyes, and proceeded “Let me know if you need something before we get to the island”. Left the control room and went back to my room.

I knew him well to know he hadn't slept because something was worrying him, and not because he was reading the old comic book of “Sora, the warrior of the sea against the evil Germa 66”. But hey, Law never shows any emotion besides annoyance if he is not sick.

A few hours later, the submarine got to the shore of some winter island, and we all got ready to accomplish our assigned tasks. “Ok everyone, we will meet here at 7 pm, is that clear?” told my crew members, everybody agreed and headed to the island.

The temperature was pretty low, and it was snowing. Law was wearing the long black coat with yellow dots and our Jolly Roger that he used to wear at Punk Hazard, his hat and of course the Kikoku over his shoulder. I love when he wears warm clothing, he looks so cozy, hiding his mouth behind the collar. (He does it so his lips don’t get chapped with the cold breeze, haha). I don't like to wear the boiler-suit when we get to explore islands, so I decided to wear a long yellow coat with a hood, also with our crew's Jolly Roger emblazoned on the left side of the chest.

We asked a few civilians where to find a pharmacy and headed to the destination following their instructions. Law didn’t say much during the walking, as he normally does.

The island seemed a little bit deserted, yet it had picturesque streets, full of colour that stand out from the snow. It has cobbled lanes, some canals of crystallized water, there were wooden houses and shops with little lights that garnished their architecture giving the place a romantic aura. The scenery behind the city center included big snowed mountains and a big castle over one of the highest peaks.

I saw a boutique with some cute sweaters on display that caught my eyes and I wanted to try them on. “Law, would you mind if I enter here? I want to buy a new sweater.”, I said. Law looked at me and made a gesture with his hand as he was saying to go ahead.

While searching for the sweater I like on one of the clothing racks I saw through the shop window that a few kids approached the captain. The seller asked me if I needed some help, so I stopped looking at him and l directed my gaze to the girl in the shop. So, I forget about him.

After buying two cute pullovers, we continued walking through the picturesque streets.

When we finally arrived at the pharmacy shop, it seemed like it was closed, but the door was open, so we entered. I rang the bell over the counter and waited for someone to show up. Law walked in front of me and had his hand over his sword. I knew he was alert and trying to protect me even if he didn’t say a word. I didn’t think we could be in danger, yet he never fully relaxes when we are outside. After all, he is one of the most wanted pirates of our generation, so it's understandable he trusts no stranger.

After a minute or so, an old lady approached the counter from the inside of the store. She seemed a little weak and perhaps a little sick. She coughed, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, and then greeted us. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”, she asked. Law handed her a list of supplies we needed, and we waited. “Oi, don’t you think she looks bad? I mean, she is probably sick, should I ask if she is ok?”, I told Law who gave me a disapproving sight. I rolled my eyes, and said, “Fiiiine…”, “You know that I hate you rolling your eyes at me, you did it yesterday and now too. Stop it.” I looked at him with an “excuse me?” face and while I was about to spit an insult to him the granny appeared. “I’m sorry, I put on the bag some of the supplies, but I don’t have everything you need. We are short on medicines'', she informed us and started coughing harder. “Excuse me, Mrs. Are you alright? are you sick?”, I asked as she seemed to lose composure from all the nagging coughing. Law, that hated when I don’t give a fuck about what he had just said, gave me the look of death. “Oh young lady, we are pretty much sick, a strange illness is hitting the island. Even the only doctor in town fell ill. The orphanage, though, is getting the worst part. All of the kids are bedridden”, as she said, the memories of Flevance and the amber lead disease hit me.

Law's expression changed to a more compassionate one and asked about the symptoms they were experiencing. He might be serious, he might not want to get involved in a lot of things, but he is a true doctor. And he can't let people die if he can help.

We decided to visit the orphanage in hopes of helping the sick people, so we asked the old lady to give us directions to it. She said it was pretty far from the city center and told us her husband would take us there with his cart.

"Thank you so much for offering your help, young doctors", said the old lady's husband that later told us his name was Gerald. The cart was pulled by two brown percheron horses that opened their way through the white landscape.

We had a small talk during the journey, until Gerald asked, "how long have you been together? Are you already married?". Despite the freezing cold weather, my cheeks turned to fire, and I could sense Law hiding his head even more into his coat and hat. Almost as if clarifying that we were no couple was a life or death situation I said, "WE ARE JUST BEST FRIENDS!". I realized I almost shouted and felt mortified. Gerald looked at us with a little smirk and kind eyes, excusing himself for the mistake.

A few minutes after we arrived at the orphanage. It took us almost 30 minutes to get there and the sun was starting to set on the horizon.

When we entered the place, the situation was worse than we thought. There were kids and adults lying on the ground, some of them shivering, others coughing while others were straight unconscious. A few nurses were working in order to maintain them, but the situation had clearly surpassed them.

Immediately Law and I started working. While I helped the nurses, Law used his ope ope no mi power to scan the bodies of the sick people.

We got to the conclusion that what they were suffering was a type of bacteria that caused the respiratory symptoms and the fever.

During our duty, there were times when our eyes interlocked, and we smiled at each other. I wouldn't say we like people suffering, but, we certainly enjoyed working to save lives together.

A few hours passed since we arrived there, the sun was already set, and outside it seemed as if a snowstorm was beginning. I've lost track of time until my portable Den Den Mushi started to ring. "Oi, y/n, where are you? Is Law with you? Are you alright? We've been waiting for you on the shore! It's 9 pm already and we were supposed to meet at 7!", shouted Shachi from the other side of the line. "Oh my God I'm sorry I forgot to tell you!... you see …" I explained to them what we've been doing and that we were probably not going to return to the submarine in a few more hours.

The kids and the other people began to get better and those who were helping there offered us some food that we accepted happily.

While we were having dinner, Gerald got back from outside, who's been in the forest collecting some firewood. He informed us that the weather was getting really bad so coming back to town would be pretty dangerous.

Law and I agreed that staying there for the night was the safer choice.

One of the nurses, Sister Alley, told us we could spend the night in the cabin next to the orphanage. "I'm really sorry guys, I wished we had a better place for you, we owe you so much. The cabin has a fireplace, Gerald would start a fire to keep you warm”, she said. We both smiled at her and thanked for it.

We walked some meters through the forest until we started to catch sight of a wooden cabin. Despite being a strong pirate, I’m the queen of the clumsy people, so I slipped off with what I assume was an ice patch on the already snowy ground. I was about to hit the ground when Law grabbed me by the waist and saved me from a few bruises. His face in front of mine, the feeling of being safe on his arms, I wished it has been eternal. But the romantic moment was destroyed by Law mocking me. “It must be the devil fruit; how come you are so clumsy? Be careful”, he said, and I told him to shut up, this time I wasn’t embarrassed, but I was almost angry at him.

“Here we are, let me help you with the fire”, Gerald said, opening the wood door that creaked as it moved. The inside felt cozy, there were a few cushions and pillows on the ground next to the fireplace. There were no separate rooms, so in the middle of the lounge there was some kind of mattress with a few blankets over it. Our “host” asked for forgiveness about the lack of separate beds, but Law intercepted him and said, “It’s ok sir, we are grateful to have a warm place to stay until tomorrow. If you need help with any patient during the night, just please tell us”. It might be ok for you, damn Law. Was I supposed to sleep with him? - I mean, I wanted to, but, he was still my best friend, and those thoughts should have been erased.

Gerald wished us a good night and returned to the main building.

I hung my coat and as I love to explore, I started to do so around the little wooden house. The kitchen seemed really equipped, so I grabbed a kettle and some cups. Gerald was kind enough to give us some tea bags, so I thought making some tea was a great idea.

Law was next to the fireplace, wearing only a sweater and his jeans. Apparently he has already hung up his coat and his white spotted hat. I saw him once more with a lost sight that seemed to contemplate the firewood.

Looking at him with my face resting on my arm that was over the breakfast nook, I got lost worshiping his profile. I’ve always adored his upturned nose, his spiky black hair, his facial hair, the contrast between his grey eyes and the tanned skin. How come he has always been so handsome, but I’ve never seemed to fully realize?.

The whistle of the kettle intensified as the water started boiling, but I was so into admiring my best friend's beauty that I didn’t notice. Law turned to me and woke me up from my reverie shouting “Oi, Y/N, the kettle!”. My stupid smile quickly erased from my face, and my whole skin turned red. “Sorry”, I said straight away and turned off the burner.

I served two cups, noticing that the tea has an amazing scent. I believe it was hibiscus mixed with some other spices, perhaps some cardamom and maybe a little hint of clover. The smell of the tea mixed with the slightly one from the logs burning, was wonderful.

I walked to where my captain was, “Here, I think you may like it”, I said and handed him a cup. Our fingers brushed softly when grabbed the tea, he looked at me and said “Thanks”. I sat not so near him over one of the cushions and sipped a little bit of my tea. Law looked at me and stood up from his place. I could sense how awkward he felt when he made a little pause, and then walked away.

Why is he leaving? Did I make him feel uncomfortable?, I asked myself trying to hide little stings of pain on my chest that traveled to my throat. Somehow I felt like crying, and when my eyes started to get slightly watery, Law approached me placing his hand over my right shoulder.

I turned my face to him, looking up with a slightly pouty face. I was about to cry, and I didn’t even know why when I noticed a blue little box on his hand.

He sat next to me and said, "Do you remember when we were 15?, that day when I gave you that necklace I made myself for your birthday? I looked at him confused but I answered, "yes, of course, I got it on my memory box, I'm afraid to wear it outside the polar cause it might get lost and I wouldn't forgive myself if I lose it". He was now looking at the little box moving it around nervously and finally said "I got you a better one". He handed me the little box still not looking at me.

"A present?? OMG Law, thank you very much!" When did you buy it??" I almost shouted in excitement while opening the box. Inside there was a fine rose gold necklace that has a little anatomical heart figure as a pendant. I grabbed it and admired the beauty of the jewelry I had in my hands. The heart had a little red stone crimped on it, that shined with every movement.

"Law, this is too much! It must have cost you a lot of Berries, I don't deserve such a fine jewel!, thank you so much", I expressed with a big smile on my face.

"You do deserve more than this, you know. I'm glad you like it", he said, a little embarrassed. “When you were buying the sweaters, I asked some children there if they knew a jewelry store, turned out it was just around the corner”, he confessed.

“Thank you so much, it is just perfect! You know how I adore hearts; they remind me of you.. “Doctor Heart Stealer”” I almost shouted, realizing I have said too much…

I tried to put it on my neck, but I couldn’t clip it right, so I asked him for help. He stood up, kneel at my back and passed from behind the necklace around my neck.

Some branches hit the window violently as they were suffering the merciless wind of the snowstorm outside.

He struggled a little and finally fastened the collar and when he did, the electric power went off. The fireplace was the only source of light, the dance of the fire created figures with shadows and highlights all around the walls of the cabin. We remained silent, maybe a little scared or even surprised, but enjoying the sound of the weather and the creak of the fire.

He was still behind me, and after a few seconds he placed a soft kiss on my back that sent a shiver through my spine. Once again I was unable to speak, did he… did he just kiss my back?.. Before I could say or do something Law stood up and headed to one of the windows. “The storm seems to be even worse than earlier; don’t you think?”, he said, trying to device something through the window.

I couldn’t focus on anything else than the kiss he softly planted on my nape, minutes ago. He suddenly yawned and walked to the mattress that was in the center of the room, on the floor. He then took his jeans off and hopped inside the bed, naturally. I remained on my spot, contemplating his actions. “How could he be acting so normal?, I’m right here. He just gave me a necklace, kissed my skin and now he just goes to sleep?” I said to myself, still with a confused expression on my face.

“Oi, aren’t you coming to bed?”, he asked me, freely. “Yes… give me a second”, I said, and ran to the bathroom. The toilet was pretty tiny and basic, but enough for me to hide for a few minutes. “Come on, Y/N you slept with him two nights ago, it’s ok, he is like your brother, it’s ok…” I thought, trying to calm myself down.

I finally left my hiding place and headed to the mattress. Law was lying there, he took off his sweater, probably while I was in the bathroom, so he was only using a white tight undershirt, that molded his torso anatomy. Some blankets were covering the under part of his body from his hips. He had his forearm over his eyes, covering them with his neck stretched back.

I bite my lip, as a reaction for such a tempting scene. I was enjoying it, watching him breathe peacefully. I started feeling hot, so I took off the sweater but not my jeans and approached the “bed”.

I thought Law was already asleep, so I got in bed trying not to wake him up. I muffled myself up with the sheets. I remained still, hearing the snowstorm, fixing my eyes on the wooden ceiling, as the memories of my childhood flooded my mind. It must be the snowstorm, the wind, the cold that triggered these memories. eventually I fell asleep.

“No, stop it, my family, leave us alone!!!!”, I screamed. “Y/n-ya! Y/n-ya!, wake up!” said Law, pulling me out from the terrific oneiric world I was submerged in. I got lost into his eyes, and remained there with tears streaming from my eyes, rolling into my cheeks. Law was holding me close to his body around his arms. “Are you having those nightmares, again? why didn’t you tell me?”, he asked, worried. “This is the first time in ages, I think it must be the storm, perhaps the orphanage, the children…”, I expressed amid tears. My best friend brushed his tattooed fingers through my hair, moving it out of my face, and then wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“Oi, do you remember what happened when I gave you the first necklace?” he asked, trying to distract me. A feeling of warmth invaded my insides, suddenly I felt happy. “I do...” I said, laughing timidly, and continued, “It was my first kiss”. He smiled back at me, and said, “Mine too”.

For a second we both closed our eyes. I was grabbing the pendant with my left hand cherishing it and the memories of our younger days when we kissed for the first time. We haven't had much time to think about love while striving to survive so we forgot about it, letting the days, months and years pass, leaving the experience as a mere child’s play.

Suddenly we started laughing, Law didn't let go of me, and our faces were pretty close. “Everything's better when you laugh, I hate it when you cry, it makes me so sad…” he said, rubbing his thumb over my right cheek. I stopped laughing, as he got even closer. Almost as if the point of our noses were about to touch. I could feel the warmth of his breath over my lips, and he did too. My heart started racing, and the only thing I could hear was the blood pumping on my ears. I wasn’t moving, I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted to kiss him… I just didn’t care that he was my best friend, I just needed him to kiss me. What is taking him so long? Why am I not moving if I wanted this more than anything?. After a good minute, that felt eternal, he exclaimed “Fuck it”, and plant the sweetest kiss over my lips. A feeling of happiness filled my insides, I’ve never been so joyful in ages, it felt the same way as the first time. I was like a teenage girl experimenting love for the first time. Both smiled still with our lips pressed. I doubted for a second if succumbing to my deepest desires was the right thing to do until he decided to turn the cute kiss into a more passionate one. From then on, the desire I’d been accumulating inside of me took control of my body…

We kept on kissing; Law slid a hand under my shirt timidly caressing the skin of my tummy. The kisses migrated from my mouth to my neck, mixed with little bites that surely would turn into hickies tomorrow.

“Law…” I gasped when his hands reached my breasts. “What?” he replied, whispering next to my ear and pinching one of my nipples in between two fingers…

Chapter 3

Ch1: Link

#Trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #Trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader

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