#she asks him why the sky is blue and he explains it to her entirely LOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowgurrrl · 9 months

Note

Okay this is soooo very out there in actual probability of this being logical but the idea of a pool in Jackson or like people are allowed to go out to lake or something or they dig a lake like idek but something that involves reader in a swimsuit and Joel like 😳 in public so maybe a lil bit of jealous Joel in there, I just think it would be so cute and fun and spicy and idek if this makes sense hahaha, I’m so sorry for being awful at explaining ideassss🤦‍♀️🤣

The Snake River actually runs through Jackson so it’s entirely plausible (yes, I did do research for this)

Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: I didn’t go into this wanting to write smut but it happened and I don’t hate it?? Please be nice to me I’m just a girl

Summary: Joel has something planned for you [3.3k]

Warnings: language, murder jokes, Joel being a little insecure, Joel the Menace making a return, smut (18+ MINORS DNI), fingering, dirty talk, sex in a semi-public place??, almost getting caught, brief mention of a safe word

Joel Miller is not a spontaneous person. It was one of the first things you found out about him. He hates surprises almost as much as he hates planning them. He's someone who likes to know what's happening and when. He loves a plan. But he loves you more.

Everyone has gone back to school, and the seasons are in a neverending battle of when one begins and the other ends. The hazy August heat permeates the windows of your house as you lie in bed, hiding from the sun and the rest of your responsibilities. This time of year makes you especially grateful for your early morning patrol shifts. You get to finish up your work before the world has the opportunity to finish preheating, and then the town is quiet after that, with people shuffling off to work or school. Maybe that's why Joel wanders into your shared bedroom with your backpacks in hand.

"Are you doin' anythin' for the rest of the day?" He asks, and you give him a confused look.

"Besides waiting for our daughter to come home from school? No, I didn't have any major plans." You tease, and he rolls his eyes before tossing your bag at you.

"Meet me downstairs in five minutes." He says.

"For what?"

"It's a surprise."

"Are you finally going to kill me?" You ask, and he scoffs.

"Honey, if I was gonna kill you, I woulda done it a long time ago."

"Fair point. Suspicion always points to the spouse first," you say, sitting up in bed. "Where are we going?"

"Does the word 'surprise' mean nothin' to you?"

"Only when it's coming from your mouth."

"Downstairs. Five minutes." He says, effectively ending the conversation by turning on his heels and walking away. You groan in protest but get up anyways. If it's something he planned, it's probably worth getting out of bed for. Still, you shuffle your feet lazily as you put more distance between yourself and an afternoon nap.

He's almost giddy as you walk out of the house and into the blaring sunshine. Ellie still has a few more hours of school left, and even then, she's gotten over you and Joel walking her to and from class. She's becoming more independent as she gets older, which is fine, but seeing her not need you as much hurts. You talk about it on the way to wherever you're going. Joel says he's noticed the same thing but doesn't want to pry too much and risk being labeled "uncool." You have to literally bite your tongue to keep from asking when he was ever cool.

When you're far enough outside Jackson's walls, Joel grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers, swinging them a little as you walk through the fields. Rock jasmines and asters shake in the window around you, painting the world in shades of white, blue, pink, and yellow. Sometimes it's easy to forget just how beautiful Wyoming can be, but when vast meadows stretch out to the mountain slopes, and the sky is unbelievably clear, you remember. You look over at Joel with his long, graying hair and scruffy facial hair and smile. It's also easy to forget just how beautiful he can be with his gentle hands and crooked nose. He turns to meet your eyes, taking away your view of his side profile, and gives you a look.

"What?" He asks, and you shake your head. "You're starin'."

"I just like looking at you." You admit, making him scoff. Joel is probably the only person in this world who's unaware of how attractive he is.

"Needa get your eyes checked." He mumbles under his breath.

"Big talk coming from a man who refuses to wear his glasses even though he desperately needs them."

"I don't desperately need 'em."

"Really?" You ask, and he hums. You lift your free hand away from your body and hold up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He tugs on the hand he's holding and pulls you against him until your chest collides with his. The wind gets knocked out of you, either because of the impact or because you can see all his freckles when you get this close to him. He smirks as he stares at you, glancing between your eyes and fingers.

"Three." He says easily, leaning in to kiss you. You move back enough to make him huff in annoyance.

"That's cheating."

"Mm, I think it's called bein' resourceful."

"Is that right?" You ask, and he hums as he finally kisses you. You indulge him for a second or two before moving back again. "Could you really not see that far?" He sighs and mumbles your name, but you refuse to let it go. "Joel, if your vision's that bad, you need to be wearing them on patrol. I don't want you to make stupid mistakes because you can't see six feet in front of you."

"Look, I hear you. I do. I just..." he trails off, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "It's stupid."

"Stupider than not wearing them at all?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes—the drama.

"They make me look old, okay? That's why I don't wanna wear 'em," he says. Once again, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. "I'm already one of the oldest guys on patrol, and that's enough for the younger guys to make fun of me. If I start wearin' 'em on patrol, I'll never hear the end of it, especially from Tommy."

"You really care what they think about you?" You ask.

"No," he starts, but quickly shakes his head. "Yes. It didn't bother me, but then they started sayin' they didn't know what you see in an old buzzkill like me, and I just... I don't know." He says. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms around his neck.

"Does this have anything to do with you suddenly planning surprises for me?"

"I told you it was stupid." He avoids the question, but you still find an answer. He tries to hide his face in your shoulder, embarrassed, but your hands find his jaw and stop him.

"I don't think it's stupid. I think the other guys on patrol are stupid for saying that and making you think I'm anything but grossly in love with you. I think they don't know what the fuck they're talking about," you say, your thumb brushing against the patches in his beard. "And I think you don't realize just how hot you look wearing glasses," he scoffs, but you don't let him wiggle out of your grasp. "I'm being serious, Joel." You assert, and something behind his eyes shifts.

"Really?"

"Are you kidding me? It's, like, annoying how good they make you look," you say, and he smirks. "It's also sexy for you to try to stay alive. So, it's a win-win." He laughs, the sound making the sun shine a little brighter.

"I mean, who am I to argue with my wife?" He asks, relenting, and you hum.

"Exactly," you say as you kiss him. It was supposed to be quick, a passing kiss to remind him you love him, but when you try to pull away, he's back on you. His big hands snake their way into your hair as he kisses you like he's drowning and trying to pull the air from you. The buzzing bees and chirping birds of the field disappear, and all you can do is hold him. His body is firm against yours, and the soft flannel of his shirt feels perfect beneath your palms. "Was my surprise making out in a meadow? That's pretty romantic, even for you, Joel." You ask as you break away to take a breath that's not his. He groans and rolls his head back to look at the cloudless sky.

"Almost forgot bout the surprise," he says, looking back at you. "You're distractin' me."

"What did I do?" You ask. He grabs your hand and starts leading you through the flowers.

"You were tryna use your woman powers on me."

"Please, explain to me what 'woman powers' you think I possess."

"If you don't know, I can't tell you." He says like he's answering a riddle, and you laugh. The rest of the walk is spent hand-in-hand with his shoulder bumping yours occasionally as your feet walk over the summer grass. As soon as you hear water lapping over smooth rocks, you look at Joel, who pretends not to hear the same thing. He smiles when you hit the break in the trees, and the crystal water of the river sparkles in the sun.

You've heard rumors about the water being safe to swim in, but you didn't trust it. Not that it mattered. You and Joel have swum in way dirtier water than the winding blue river in front of you. Still, you were sure that it was a set-up by Raiders. But now, with Joel by your side, in the daylight, it's taking everything in you to not jump in the water. "I thought it might be nice. Just the two of us." Joel says. You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, looping an arm under his and holding his bicep.

"It is nice," you agree. "But we don't own swimsuits," you say, immediately clocking the excited expression on his face. "You're a menace."

"What? I planned a very nice day for us, and I just... forgot we needed swimsuits."

"Oh, you forgot?" You ask, and he nods.

"I told you, I'm an old man. I forget things easily."

"Give me a break." You roll your eyes before letting go of his arm and walking over to a big tree. You bend down to take off your boots and socks, and Joel quickly follows suit. His eyes stick to you as you pull your shirt off your head, faded scars catching the sunlight. Once you're left in your bra and underwear, you pause and look at Joel. He's stripped down to just his underwear, too, and you have a full view of his broad frame.

His muscular chest is littered with scars, some old and silver against his tan skin and others new and still raised and angry. Your favorite is from where he got caught under some fence a million years ago. It vaguely looks like a thunderbolt striking from his collarbone to his shoulder. You can see the goosebumps rising on his thick biceps from where you're standing. His hands are relaxed and open at his sides, visible veins thrumming blood through his body. His belly has rounded just a little since you've settled in Jackson, something he grew insecure about while you reminded him every day that you loved the softness of his body. His strong thighs are a little paler than the rest of him, considering his patrol schedule in the summer, but they're still freckled and scarred like the rest of him. Your breath catches in your throat when he pulls down his underwear and stands fully naked in front of you.

I guess we're actually doing this, you think as you unclasp your bra. You leave your clothes in a pile under the tree before darting into the cold water together. He ducks his entire head under while you tread, letting yourself get used to the temperature and laughing when Joel comes up with a sharp gasp. "Oh, you think that's funny?" He asks before shaking his head in your direction, frigid water droplets landing on your skin. You shriek and splash at him to get him to stop. He splashes back, making huge swells with his arms, and you have to dive under to swim away.

Once you call a truce on the water fight, you just swim together. You alternate between floating on your back, watching the clouds float by, and diving deep under the water to see what might be down there. After a few minutes, your bodies adjust to the water, and you can actually enjoy the river currents working against you. It reminds you of all the summers you spent in pools, the ocean, rivers, and lakes before the Outbreak. The memory presses on a familiar bruise in your chest, but it doesn't hurt. At least, not as much. Not when you're here with Joel, making new memories in a new world.

You swim over to where Joel is standing, his long curls touching the water as he looks up at the sky. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist once you're close enough, and he meets your eyes with a smile. His hands grip your thighs and trace patterns into your skin, the warmth of his touch a welcome relief in the cold. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as you stare at him. "This a good surprise?" He asks, his voice low in his chest, and you nod.

"I like doing things like this with you," you say. "But I also don't want you to worry about keeping me interested in you," he sighs at your words but doesn't break away from you. "We've been together for years now. We went halfway across the country together. We have Ellie. You're it for me. I don't care what the younger guys on patrol have to say about it."

"You don't think I'm an old buzzkill?"

"Not all the time."

"Alright, smart ass."

"I mean, I don't know a lot of buzzkills who go skinny-dipping with their wives."

"See? Gimme a little credit here." He says, pinching your thigh, and you laugh. As the sound dies in your throat, his gaze hangs heavily on you. Suddenly, you're all too aware of his sturdy body under you and his hands on you. You get a little closer to him, and his stomach brushes against your core. A quiet, shaky breath leaves you, and Joel hears it. His lips ghost over yours as his hand dips down, a deft finger grazing your clit.

"Joel," you cry softly, clinging to him tighter when he presses a little harder. He shushes you as his middle finger ventures lower and just barely pushes into you. More. You need more, and he knows it. Asshole, you think to yourself, but your brain shuts off when he inches a digit into you so fucking slowly. You can feel his smirk when he leans down to mouth at the column of your throat.

"That good?" He rasps in your ear, and you nod as his hand adjusts to thumb at your clit. You jump a little at the molten pleasure pulsing through you. He chuckles lowly and nips at your earlobe. "I've barely touched you, honey, and I can already feel you squeezin' me." You can't even formulate a response once he starts moving. The slow drag of his finger against your walls is enough to drive any sane person insane. You whine when he pushes another into you and claw at his shoulders.

Your heart is fast against his chest. Everything you breathe, hear, and feel is Joel. You can't think about anything other than the weight of his hand working you over in the broad fucking daylight. You're close enough to the shore that anyone would be able to see you, but you hope you just look like a clingy couple enjoying a mid-day swim. It's a long shot, especially since he's mumbling absolutely filthy things to you. "You always sound so damn pretty." "Gonna let me fuck you like this?" "You're so good for me, baby." Every syllable makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. His fingers languidly move in and out of you like he has nothing better to do before stopping completely, and you whine in protest.

"You're f," your sentence breaks off when he quickens suddenly.

"What was that, sweetheart? Where's that smart mouth now?" He asks. Your hips start moving in time with his ministrations, and he watches you like a man starved. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as his fingers move faster inside you. You think your blood is thundering through your ears as bliss overtakes your senses, but you quickly realize it's hooves. You don't know if Joel hears it, but if he does, he doesn't stop.

"Joel, I think, fuck," he rubs at your clit with more fervor, making you see stars. "Someone's coming." You breathe, and his teeth scrape under your jaw. It's all too much. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, losing all motivation to get him to stop.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, and you nod. "C'mon, I know you can do it. Come for me." He hooks his fingers, nudging that spongy part inside you, and that's all it takes. Your mouth falls open, and fuzziness takes over your senses. You hold Joel closer as he works you through your orgasm with encouraging words and gentle strokes. Finally, you have to reach for his wrist to stop because you're so overstimulated, and he would live between your thighs if he could.

"Y'all alright?" A voice comes out of nowhere, and you jump. You and Joel turn to see one of the patrolmen from Jackson, James, on his horse a few hundred yards away. He's far enough away that he wouldn't be able to see you're both naked, but he can clearly see your clothes and backpacks on the shoreline.

"Yeah, we're alright. Just... havin' ourselves a date." Joel says, his voice annoyingly even. James looks confused, so you nod in agreement even though Joel still has two fingers knuckle-deep inside you. If he doesn't kill you, embarrassment just might.

"Well, then," James says awkwardly. "Y'all don't stay out too long. Maria'll have your ass if y'all come back hurt or somethin'." Joel shifts his hand as he nods, and you choke on a moan but try to play it off as a cough. Still, James gives you a look. "You good?"

"Yeah, are you alright, honey?" Joel asks in a mocking tone. You grit your teeth and dig your nails into his arm before nodding at James.

"All good. Just had a little tickle. We'll start heading back to town now. Thanks for checking on us." You quickly dismiss the patrolman, who is more than happy to get the hell out of Dodge. Even if he didn't suspect anything was happening, you know he's terrified of you and Joel. His ideal patrol is not having to deal with either of you and now he just got the whole package plus some. As soon as he's out of earshot, you smack Joel's arm.

"Are you fucking insane? He could've heard us!"

"Us? I'm not the one who was screamin'!"

"Okay, first of all," you start, holding up one finger. "I was not screaming. Second of all, I told you someone was coming, and you kept going!" He doesn't exactly look apologetic, but then again, you're not really mad.

"You know the safe word just as well as I do, sweetheart. I woulda stopped if you said it," he says, and you sigh. He's right. You hate it, but he's right. You try to hide your smile and shake your head as he kisses you. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you, swallowing your over-sensitive whines down with gentle licks. A stupid thought wiggles its way into your brain, and you laugh against Joel's lips. Once you start, you can't stop, and Joel looks at you like you're a crazy person. "Now, what is so goddamn funny?" He asks, and you compose yourself enough to look at him.

"Think they'll still tease you over being old after you just made your wife come faster than they ever could?"

#can you tell I’m queer because all my smut is focused on female pleasure #mom June’s being a lesbian on the internet again #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of request #joel miller requests #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel the last of us #the last of us fluff #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #joel tlou

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borathae · 10 months

Text

↳ Index [Chapter 37 - Heilmittel]

• Heilmittel (German, cure)

Warnings: scary dark underground tunnels, violence in the form of stabbing, so many tears too

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: i don’t care what anyone says, writing OC acting like that is so much fun. we stan a slightly mad queen, she’s so hot for that hahahah

“Sweetest, you are back”, Taehyung greets you atop the marvel stairs, hurrying down in light steps, “you look well-rested. How were your days by the coast?” he asks.

Jimin is atop the stairs as well, appearing after having heard Taehyung call out for you. He is still in his painting clothes, cheek covered in the remnants of a light sky blue.

“Yeah, yeah they were good. Really good. I can’t stay for long, I have to test something out”, you dismiss him, slipping out of your coat quickly with his help.

Taehyung, who wanted to lean in for a sweet kiss, gets denied as you hurry past him with nothing but the cellar in mind.

“So…it didn’t help”, Taehyung says with utter heartbreak in his voice, dropping your coat on the ground as his body sinks into itself in defeat.

“Don’t run away! Taehyung asked you a question”, Jimin calls out, placing a protective arm over Taehyung’s shoulder. He even tries to make himself bigger by puffing out his chest.

“What?” you stop, looking over your shoulder, “oh no, they helped. I finally figured it out, Tae. I know what to do.”

“What?”

“I know what to do. I can save Yoongi”, you say and smile before turning away to hurry to the cellar.

The vampires follow you.

“How did you figure it out? Where are we going? What are you doing?” Taehyung asks.

“The cellar, I have to test it out before I actually do it”, you tell him, unlocking the door with the keys you keep in the dresser just next to the heavy door.

“So that is where you keep those keys. How is that possible? I looked into those drawers a dozen times before and they were always empty”, Taehyung mumbles.

“Protection spell. I hid them for everyone but me”, you explain, lighting the torches with a snap of your fingers. They flicker to life one by one until the entire staircase is lit, now guiding your eyes into the blinding darkness down below.

“Why would you hide them?”

“Because I couldn’t have you guys finding them and taking them away from me. I know you would have tried something like that.”

“I wouldn’t-“, Taehyung stops talking when you send him a look over your shoulder. Flustered, he fixes his gaze to the side, “-I would have had very good reason for doing it”, he gives in, “just like I still do. I told you to find relaxation by the coast and what did you do? You continued thinking about it.”

“Technically we didn’t go to the coast”, you explain, lighting the torches in the cellar as well. They flicker on one by one, guiding the way to the heavy iron gate at the end of the long corridor. Groaning of your captives greets your ears as you pass them. Like always you stop in your steps to cast your eyes on the wall behind which – and three more heavy doors – Namjoon is living out his eternal sentence. Like always you lower your eyes in pure hatred, but today, only today, you dare to add just a hint of glee in it. You found a cure. Namjoon lied. You didn’t lose everything. You fucking won.

“What do you mean by that?” Taehyung rips you back to reality by gripping your shoulder tightly to turn you to him. His worried eyes meet yours, “where else did you go?”

“Back to Meredith and then my grandmother’s house.”

“What?” Taehyung gasps, looking over his shoulder at Jungkook, “did, did you know about that?”

“It was my idea”, Jungkook says, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t give up Yoongi either.”

“Well, neither do I! I want Yoongi’s return just as much as you do. But I trusted in you to keep her distracted. She needed some time away from all of this and you dragged her right into it again”, Taehyung’s voice is raised. He points his finger at Jungkook, “when you told me that you will take her because you can see how stressed I am, this was a lie wasn’t it? You didn’t want me to have some distance from her, you wanted to take her to Meredith. You, you deceived me.”

“I didn’t deceive you. I just…I wanted you to have some time away from all of this, I really did and then you had that idea for the trip and I knew that I could combine it with my own plans. My initial plans were to take ___ and leave one night without telling you guys.”

“Oh my god”, Taehyung stumbles back, “you are all a bunch of deceiving liars.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lie to you. I really didn’t”, Jungkook insists, stepping closer to take Taehyung’s hands but Jimin stops him with a firm hand on his chest.

“This is close enough”, he grumbles with a grim expression.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously.”

Jungkook studies Jimin’s face and gives up with a sigh, “Tae baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did and I’m sorry for that. I really am.”

“No. I’m too upset to forgive you right now”, Taehyung says, turning away from Jungkook and you, “I’m leaving. I can’t take another one of your lies.”

You stop him.

“My darling”, you say calmly, touching his chest. He is breathing heavily, letting you know just how upset over your betrayal he was, “I know you feel hurt and betrayed right now, but please stay with me for a little while longer. I promise you, it will all make sense soon.”

“No. I can’t bear to watch you fall further and further into madness.”

“Please trust me”, you insist, “I need you with me on this one, please.”

“As did I”, Taehyung wipes your hands off his chest on a swift and angry movement, “I needed you to go to the coast and relax and yet you didn’t.”

“I did. I relaxed, I promise you. I, I slept and ate and talked to my grandmother and I feel refreshed.”

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head, “you told me that she died years ago.”

“Yes, but we saw her. I’m serious. We actually saw her.”

“More lies. How wonderful”, Taehyung exclaims, throwing his hands over his head in defeat, “now you’re thinking me a complete fool.”

“Tae, hey look at me”, you cup his face even if he flinches back at first, “I’m not lying to you. We saw her. We visited her in this weird world somewhere between my memories and the spirit realm and we spent two days at her home and once we woke up again, two days actually passed, but my body didn’t feel tired. It felt as if I truly took a vacation at her home.”

“I never even heard of this being possible.”

“Neither did I. But it happened and, and she finally gave me what I needed all this time. She gave me an answer, Tae.”

“I don’t believe you. You, you most definitely passed out again and, and hallucinated. You’re losing your mind to the research, please ___ just relax for once, please.”

“I will. After I freed Yoongi, I will finally relax. I promise you”, you say, “please trust me. One last time. Please.”

“I don’t know if I can”, Taehyung whispers with heartbreak in his voice and his shoulder sagging from all the weight of emotion dragging him down.

“Please? Just one more time.”

“And if it won’t work?”

“It will, trust me. It will work. This time around it will work.”

“And if it won’t?” Taehyung insists, furrowing his brows in desperate anger.

“Then….I don’t know”, you say, whispering your next words with trembling in your voice, “then you get the satisfaction of telling me that I have gone mad.”

“I wouldn’t find satisfaction in telling you that! Each word I speak about your madness pierces my heart with glowing blades”, Taehyung’s eyes fill with tears, “I’m dying slowly because of the pain, ___. Seeing you fail again would bring me no satisfaction.”

“I know”, you take Taehyung’s trembling hands, “trust me, I know and, and I don’t want to hurt you. I just…need you to come with me one last time, please.”

“Fine”, Taehyung gives up, hissing the word at you, “I will come with you, but I won’t find enjoyment in it. Know that much.”

“Thank you”, you whisper, guiding his knuckles to your lips to kiss them softly, “I don’t take your support for granted.”

Taehyung pulls his hands free and takes a step back, “just take me wherever you want to go”, he says coldly.

“Come. Follow me, I’ll lead the way”, you say and after grabbing a torch you turn to strut away in big steps.

Taehyung draws close to Jimin. You hear the latter ask him if he was okay to which Taehyung gives him no answer, but you figure that he either shook or nodded his head. You may know the answer already, feeling too guilty to dwell on it any longer. You really do feel for Taehyung and you understand where he is coming from, but you are so close to making everything right. You are so close to making your family whole again and to bring Yoongi back. You can’t fix the thing with Taehyung when the solution to fixing everything was so close.

Jungkook tries to hold Taehyung’s hand, but the latter merely pulls his hand away before that could happen. So Jungkook walks next to Taehyung with sagging shoulders and a big pout on his lips. He feels really fucking guilty too. He never wanted to hurt Taehyung.

You stop when you reach the iron gate, pulling out the big black key to unlock it.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t go in there”, Taehyung gasps, reaching out to stop you but too late.

The gate opens with a loud squeak.

“It’s okay. I know my way around.”

“What? How?”

“I spent too many nights down here.”

“What?” even Jungkook sounds surprised at your confession.

Yes, you will go there. You will reveal your greatest secret to them. Perhaps you are acting irrationally and perhaps you are making a huge mistake, but you have never felt as much hope as you do right now. If anyone can solve your problem then it must be your grandmother. She must be right with what she told you. And because she was right, you feel confident in revealing your greatest secret to them. You won’t be needing it anymore after today. Because you will have Yoongi back.

“How is this possible? We told you to stay out of those tunnels. They are dangerous.”

“Oh I know, trust me”, you say and laugh breathily, “I met the danger, but they’re not here anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means”, you look over your shoulder. Shadows swallow half of your face while the other side is illuminated by the fading shine of the torches way, way back. “it means that they’re not here anymore.”

“How can we understand that?” Jimin asks.

The three vampires take a small cautionary step back upon watching your lips curl into an almost menacing smile, “I made them safe”, you say and snicker darkly.

“Oh.”

You turn your face away from them again and continue your confident walk.

“Careful of that one though”, you say, pointing down a dark tunnel of nothingness, “there’s water in this one. It reaches up to my chin at the third step. I think that there’s a whole system down there which will never be entered by people again.”

The vampires look into the darkness. You were right. You may not be able to see it, but those steps lead into deep, cold water. It sends shivers of fear down their spines. Sometimes seeing what the darkness hides is scarier than the darkness in itself.

“Where are we going anyway?” Jungkook asks.

“The round room.”

“What?” Jungkook’s loud exclaim echoes throughout the entire system, bouncing off the walls and returning to your ears as loud and messy voices, “why would we go back there?”

“Because this is where it is.”

“Where what is? What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see. It’s not far anymore.”

“You’re seriously giving me the creeps”, Jimin murmurs.

“Don’t be scared, it’s just me”, you assure him with just enough mindlessness in your voice that it sounds dishonest.

“Yeah fucking exactly”, he whispers just quietly enough that you can’t hear him. He intertwines his fingers with Taehyung, holding his hand as tightly as possible.

“What were you doing in the round room?” Taehyung asks you, following you as you take a sharp turn into a side tunnel. The air smells like rotting flesh.

“Careful now, there’s some…” you let out a scoff, shaking your head, “just be careful with what you breathe in.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s not far anymore”, you ignore Jimin’s question, “oh, I’m so excited. You guys won’t even believe how excited I am. This is everything I fucking wanted for months. Fucking victory. Yes!”

Jimin actually yells in shock because of your loud exclaim, hiding behind Taehyung.

You whip around, grinning at them. The flames contort your face into a mask of madness.

“I’m fucking winning. Namjoon was wrong, I didn’t lose. He did”, you laugh loudly, pointing your finger into the direction of where Namjoon is captured far far away, “today is the day where he will finally see that he was wrong.”

“What, what do you mean?”

“Victory, my friends”, your lips curl into a crazed smile, “victory will be ours today.”

“O-okay?”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. You step closer, “what’s wrong?” you repeat your question, squinting your eyes as you study them. “Why are you all holding hands?”

“We uhm, we aren’t”, Jungkook stutters, releasing Taehyung’s hand which he previously almost crushed from holding it so tightly.

You furrow your brows, “don’t be scared, it’s just me. You know that”, you say and whip back around to continue your fast walk, “you guys should stop worrying about all this silly stuff when there is much more pressing matters to take care of. Come, it’s just down that tunnel.”

The vampires exchange a weary look with each other. They can still see you. Far in the distance, walking with not even an ounce of fear in your steps. The shadows swallow you more and more until it even smothers the shine of your torch. They blink in surprise. How are they unable to see you? What happened?

“Are you coming?!” you call out from the darkness.

“Coming!” Jungkook answers you and then drags Taehyung and Jimin with him.

You wait for them to join your side. The shine of the torch has returned, illuminating your features weakly.

“You guys can’t see shit, can you?” you ask them.

“No, we can’t.”

“Good.”

“What do you mean good?”

“We’re close.”

“Close to what?”

“Victory, good Jimin.”

“Can you talk like you’re normally talk? You’re being creepy.”

“I’m not creepy”, you say, shining the light into Jimin’s face, “what do you want me to tell you? Stupid fucking stories about myself? We don’t have time for that.”

“Why can’t we see in the darkness?”

“A curse, duh”, you say, leading the way again.

“A curse?”

“Yes. Stay close”, you tell them, taking a turn to the right, “it’s cast all over that stupid system. I think Namjoon’s stupid coven cast it to mask the entrance to the round room. It starts by those two statues we passed.”

“We passed statues?” Jungkook gasps.

“Yes. Two demons. Ugly bastards, if you ask me. I think they’re the beacons for the curse”, you say, “it ends right under the university by two statues of angels. It’s hilarious isn’t it?” you say and laugh, “the university is so close if only you know where to walk.”

“We’ve been walking for too long. You’re only imagining that it’s not taking long.”

“Perhaps. Now quiet and stay close. There are rats nearby.”

“We can handle a few rats.”

“You don’t wanna meet those rats. The curse made them different. Trust me”, you say.

“How do you know?”

“Who do you think cleared out most of those tunnels?” you hiss, sending him a dark look.

“Who are you?” Jimin asks.

“I am me”, you answer him and stop, “we’re here.”

“Fuck. I can smell the ammoniac”, Jungkook says, swallowing heavily.

Taehyung, who notices how he begins to shake, intertwines his fingers with Jungkook.

“It is going to be alright. We are right here with you”, he whispers.

A smile tugs at Jungkook’s lips. He squeezes Taehyung’s hand.

“Thank you”, he whispers and Taehyung simply leans in and kisses his cheek. No words need to be exchanged between them afterwards for both of them to know that the fight of before was forgiven and forgotten.

“Okay, it’s done”, you pull their attention back to you.

“What’s done?”

“I lifted the barrier spell. You should be able to enter now.”

“Barrier spell?”

“Yeah. To keep you guys out and them in.”

“Them?”

You open the door and step inside. The three vampires follow with a lump in their throat.

You snap your fingers to light the torches at once, revealing the round room and your captives chained to the wall. They hiss and groan at the sudden light, cowering away in fear upon laying eyes on you.

“What the actual fuck?” Jimin exclaims, “why the fuck do you have guys chained up here?”

“Not guys. Vampires”, you correct him.

“What?” Jimin’s voice is squeaky in shock.

You look over your shoulder. You are already by your captives, currently removing one of them from the wall chains.

“Superiors. Don’t worry, they’re not just any vampires.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you have vampires chained up in, in this awful room surrounded by demonic curses and a, a barrier spell”, Taehyung is the one to speak up.

“Research obviously”, you answer him, “follow me, don’t fucking fight me”, you hiss at the vampire you are currently dragging to the chair.

“Research?”

“I mean, I couldn’t have done it on you guys, could I?”

“Done what?!”

You slam the vampire down in the chair, holding him down with strong magic so you can chain his limbs tightly.

“What are you doing to him?” Jungkook asks you, feeling taken back to the time he was chained up in this awful room.

“I’m making sure that he doesn’t escape. Those chains are enchanted because unlike Namjoon, the moron, I don’t want my vampires to fight themselves free”, you explain, patting the vampire's shoulder, “there we go, now you can’t escape.”

“Guys please help me, she is fucking crazy. She killed Melanie and, and Rich and Eric and now she is going to kill me”, the vampire begs, looking over his shoulder at the others.

“Way to snitch on me. The fuck?” you gasp, stealing his voice with one swirl of your wrist.

The vampire opens and closes his mouth fruitlessly, looking at your friends with scared eyes.

“What did you do to him?”

“I stole his voice. He was ruining the conversation”, you explain nonchalantly as you grind up the wood.

“Is this true? Did you kill people?”

“Yes. They failed the research”, you explain, stepping closer to the vampire.

“What research? What are you talking about?”

“The search for a cure. How did you not figure that out?” you hiss, “isn’t it obvious yet? I’m trying to find a bloody cure.”

Their eyes flit to the bowl of ground wood in your hand.

“___ what are you going to do with this wood?” Jungkook asks.

“Force it into his lungs. Just like Namjoon did with Yoongi.”

“What? Are you insane? This is going to kill him”, Taehyung gasps.

“Only if the antidote fails, but it won’t. Not this time. I know it won’t”, you say and grab the vampire by its throat, “this is gonna sting for a little, I’m not sorry about that.”

Taehyung lets out a sound which was a mixture of a scoff and a gasp. You lift your eyes from the vampire, cocking your brow at Taehyung.

“What?” you ask him.

“Who are you?”

“I am me! How often do I have to tell you that?”

“No, no you aren’t you. I, I barely even recognise you.”

“Well, get used to it because this is who I am.”

“No”, Taehyung shakes his head, “no, this isn’t you.”

“It is!” you yell at him.

The room is dead silent instantly.

“This is who I am. This is me”, you dig your finger into your own chest, “all my life I spent feeling weird and different and like something was wrong with me, but not anymore. This?” you light your hand on fire with nothing but a thought. It was solely to make a point, “this is who I am. This is the fucking reason why I felt different and I won’t let you tell me that this isn’t me when I spent twenty five fucking years of my life searching for who I am.”

“Killing vampires for fun is not who you are”, Taehyung says. His voice is raised as well.

“I’m not doing this for fun. I’m doing this to save Yoongi. I find no enjoyment in this. Do you think I get off on failing over and over again? No. I want this to be over”, you hiss.

“Killing them is still not the answer.”

“I’m not even killing vampires. I’m killing monsters!” you throw back, grabbing the chained vampire by his hair to tug on it harshly and in the process, force his mouth to open, “they’re no different than those cursed rats outside or the demons lurking in those shadows. They’re monsters.”

Taehyung shakes his head, “no, they’re not. They’re like us.”

“They are nothing like you. They’re nothing but Namjoon’s ugly scum. You are my family.”

“We were once Namjoon’s scum too”, Taehyung says, “how are you so certain that they wanted this life for themselves?”

“I know what you are trying to do here. I know that you want me to see the better of myself. But this is the better version of me. I have never felt more like myself than I do right now.”

“No, it’s not. This is madness.”

“Do not speak to me of madness, Kim Taehyung, when I stumbled into this life because you and Jimin wanted a snack”, you growl, finally releasing the vampire's hair to instead, pull out the dagger of your grandmother.

Taehyung closes his mouth, staring at you with widened eyes.

“The madness started long before all of this, but it will end tonight”, you say.

“___ please”, Taehyung tries only to be silenced by you with a lift of your finger.

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“It does. Now look away if you don’t want to relive how it was to lose Yoongi”, you tell them and blow the wood into the vampire’s face.

There is nothing for a second and then he begins writhing and squirming in agony, crying out silently because his voice was still gone.

“Holy fucking shit, you’re actually crazy”, Jimin gasps, stumbling back because he thought that he would never have to watch something as gruesome as a vampire choking on wood splinters again and yet here he was, having to watch it again.

You can’t react, you have to concentrate. Have to do what your grandmother told you to do. Have to safe that vampire from dying.

“Esrever”, you begin chanting the word she told you to speak until the blade glows golden. And then, only then, you ram it into the chest of the dying vampire, deep enough that you can feel the blade touch the ribs at his back.

“No. I’m fucking out”, Jimin says and turns away, “you’re actually fucking insane.”

“Please don’t do this”, Taehyung begs with his hand thrown over his mouth.

Jungkook just stares wordlessly, feeling his stomach twist while deep down a glimmer of hope begins flickering.

Despite the blade in his chest, the vampire stops squirming in agony. He stops squirming. He actually stops squirming. Until finally it is gone.

You pull the blade out, staring at the vampire with your entire body shaking in emotion.

“Holy shit”, you whisper shakily, staring at the blade in your hand. It is covered in black blood. Runes have appeared on the metal. The golden glow in them is consuming the black wood splinters trapped in the blade, “holy shit.”

With a swirl of your wrist you give the vampire his voice back.

“H-how, how are you feeling?”

“Like, like myself. What, what did you do to me?” the vampire stutters and although his voice is terribly ruined as a remnant from his death fight, he looks healthy.

“Holy shit”, you press out, stumbling back and dropping the knife in the process, “it fucking worked”, you manage to get out and then nine weeks of pain, heartbreak and hopelessness come crushing down on you, dragging you to your knees as you break down in relieved tears.

You have no recollection of the minutes which follow. You don’t know if you cried or screamed or laughed or perhaps fell victim to a mixture of everything. You don’t know what happened because your brain didn’t keep any of those seconds as memories. Perhaps the cry was as much trauma as it was relief. Perhaps having to keep the memories of this cry would have been too burdening to do. Perhaps however you couldn’t remember anything, because for the first time in seventy long nights, you don’t have to think of anything. No new loss to stomach, no new seconds of self loathing, no new moments of grief and no new fear of more hours spent researching the hopeless. You don’t have to think of anything anymore, because you finally won.

“I fucking won”, you wail, laughing just as much as you are crying, “I goddamn fucking won!”

You think that you jumped up and flipped the table in happiness. You can’t really remember a lot, because it all happened too fast.

“Fucking take that Kim Namjoon! I won!” you scream, ripping the door open to yell it into the endlessness of the tunnels, “I won! I beat you! Holy fucking shit, I beat you!” you screech and overtaken by your emotions, you retch only to empty the entire contents of your stomach on the ground.

“Hey, it’s okay”, Jungkook is by your side instantly, rubbing your back. He is crying just as much, “it’s okay. You did it, baby. You can rest now.”

You don’t even mind that you threw up. It is over as fast as it happened. Your body minds as you feel terribly dizzy and out of it afterwards, but you fight through those feelings, lifting your head.

“___”, Taehyung gasps, hurrying to you, “you are bleeding.”

“I fucking won”, you croak, barely registering when both Jungkook and Taehyung try to wipe the blood from your nose, “I’m getting Yoongi back”, you press out, head pounding like crazy, “okay fuck, I..feel…I, I need help”, you say, vision going black and head hitting Jungkook’s chest.

Someone is holding your hand. Both of them. Two pairs of hands hold them. So two people are holding your hand. Fuck, your head is pounding. Every inch of your body feels heavy in exhaustion. Did you fall asleep? Where are you? What happened? You open your eyes. It is bright outside. It’s the typical brightness the day gets when it is about to snow. What happened? Why are you in your bed? You try to sit up only to have the sharpest pain in humankind shoot through your brain.

“Fucking shit”, you press out, pulling a grimace of agony. Your head is pounding like crazy and breathing is so goddamn hard because of your stuffy nose.

“Darling?”

You turn your head where the voice came from, watching as Taehyung lifts his forehead from your hand.

“You’re finally awake”, his voice is heavy in tiredness, “oh god, I was so worried”, he presses out as his eyes fill with tears, “Kook, she’s awake!”

Someone stirs beside you.

“___?” Jungkook gasps.

You turn your head to him, watching as he props himself up on his elbow. He scoots closer, letting go of your hand to instead touch your cheeks.

“You’re finally awake”, Jungkook presses out, spilling tears just as Taehyung does, “I’m so fucking relieved.”

“What happened?”

“You passed out. It’s been ten hours since”, Taehyung explains.

You look at him, “ten hours? What? I don’t understand.”

“You were bleeding out of your nose and then you passed out against my chest”, Jungkook explains, “we tried to get you to wake up again, but you didn’t want to wake up anymore. We, we were so worried. We kept managing your heartbeat and, and even called Hobi to take a look at you, but you were out cold.”

“I passed out?” you try to sit up, but get stopped by both Jungkook and Taehyung pushing you back into the sheets.

“Don’t get up yet. Rest”, Taehyung says sternly.

“Okay?” you blink the sudden dizziness away, “I don’t understand what happened.”

“You were overwhelmed. The magic and the release of stress most definitely did it to you.”

“I see. Fuck”, you touch your forehead, “my head’s killing me.”

“Should I get you some pain medicine?” Jungkook offers.

“Yeah, maybe”, you say.

“I’ll get the others too”, Jungkook says, pecking your cheek, “don’t leave this bed until I’m back”, he orders and then disappears to get everything you need.

You turn your head to Taehyung, eyes closing halfway when he begins running his fingers over your forehead and temple. He is still holding your hand, clutching it so tightly you wonder if he will ever let you go again.

“I’m sorry for ever doubting you”, he whispers.

“Don’t.”

“No, I want to apologise. I was being unfair to you. If I knew how much you actually did, I would have never yelled at you.”

“Don’t apologise. You had every right to doubt me. And for yelling at me. I’m sorry for making you worry so much.”

He shakes his head, “I already forgave you. I understand now. All of it. You wanted to save Yoongi and you wanted to stop at nothing. Not even at killing…”, he hesitates with his choice of words, “monsters”, he decides in the end.

“I didn’t want to kill them. I really didn’t. But I had to. They were the only choice I had.”

“I know. I understand, I think. I don’t know, it is still a little difficult to come to terms with everything you hid from us.”

“I only did it to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Just…from what I became. You were right a little. I’m not a killer and I hadn’t noticed it, but I think that I did go a little mad.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but the fondness in his eyes lets you know that he wasn’t angry at you. Not anymore.

“But I won’t apologise for anything else. I haven’t felt more like myself than I do ever since I found my powers and, and I won’t hide them. Not anymore.”

“I never wanted you to hide them. Oh darling”, Taehyung cups your cheek, “the only thing I wanted you to do was reconsider your choice of killing the vampire. But even that turned out to be an unnecessary worry”, his lips curl into a smile, “you found a cure.”

“I know”, you get out, eyes filling with tears, “I can’t believe that I did it. I want to cry.”

“I know, me too”, Taehyung says, kissing your tears away. He rests his forehead against yours afterwards, “I’m proud of you”, he whispers “you are a true fighter and I won’t ever doubt you again.”

“Thank you”, you whisper, crying silent tears, “and I want you to know that I would do the same for you. If you were the one with wood in your lungs I mean. I would do the same for you and, and the others too. I’d fucking fight until I’ll find a cure. Especially now that I am finally actually helpful. You, you are all my family and I can’t lose-”

“I know”, he interrupts you in a soft voice, cupping your cheek, “you don’t have to tell me. I know.”

“So you don’t think that I gave up on you when you were still imprisoned?”

“No, I don’t. I should have never said those awful words.”

“Thank you”, you get out, releasing your breath shakily as your eyes fall closed in relief. He isn’t angry anymore. This feels so good to know.

“I also learned not to mess with you. You frightening me a little in those tunnels”, he jokes, “I don’t even want to find out what you could actually do to us poor, weak vampires.”

You laugh, “no please don’t be scared of me. I would never hurt you.”

“I know, I was just making a silly joke”, he chuckles.

You snicker, moving your head away just enough that you could look into his eyes. They race between yours, glimmering in fondness.

“Thank you, Tae darling. I know it wasn’t easy to trust me, so thank you for still following me.”

He dismisses you with a shake of his head, “I’m just glad that you are finally awake again.”

You give him a small smile, nodding your head in agreement.

Taehyung takes your hand, tracing your knuckles slowly.

“___darling”, he begins, “my sweetest, Kookie told me about your panic attack”, he lifts his eyes, looking at you with great regret, “and I want to apologise. It should have been obvious to me that sending you away would trigger panic in you, but it wasn’t obvious. I am so incredibly sorry.”

“I went out of my own accord.”

“Did you truly?”

You hesitate and lower your eyes.

“See? Oh my sweetest darling, I have been awfully unfair to you. You stayed by my side when I grieved Jimin, tolerated my heartbroken stupidity and here I was acting like I had any right to turn you into a villain.”

He scoots closer and places his other hand over your hand as well.

“I understand your grief. I always did. But I think in my own heartbreak and frustration, I forgot for a second and I am sorry that I did.”

“No, it’s okay. I acted like an idiot.”

“___, just take the apology.”

It feels peculiar. You didn’t even think that you needed an apology and yet it feels good to hear it. While the beginning of the trip felt like unfair punishment, it ended in you finally finding the cure, so all the terrible feelings you had in the beginning were forgotten by you. The wounds still seemed to have remained however, because hearing Sorry from Taehyung felt healing. You think that you were the angriest at him. Subconsciously, but angry nonetheless.

“Thank you for the apology”, you say, “I could never explain why I felt so wronged by you in particular, but now I can, so thank you for apologising.”

“Of course, this is the least I can do.”

“And for reassuring me that you understand my grief.”

“Of course, oh my darling of course.”

“You won’t have to understand it anymore”, you smile, “really soon”, you add and squeeze his hand, “really, really soon.”

Taehyung gives you a smile and nods his head, “yes, very soon.”

“___”, Jungkook calls out for you as he enters your room, followed by Hoseok and Jimin, “I’m back, I got you everything you need.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re actually awake”, Jimin says, carrying what seems to be a bowl of food.

“Hey there, I’m glad that you’re awake”, Hoseok says, hurrying to the bed with his doctor bag in his hand.

Taehyung stands up from the chair for him, letting him close to you so he could look at you.

“How are you feeling? Tell me everything”, Hoseok says, checking your temperature with the back of his hand.

“My head hurts and my nose is stuffy and I just feel…sick. I don’t know, I feel like I’m having the flu or something.”

“Mhm, I see”, Hoseok furrows his brows as he gets into his serious mode, “I’ll take a quick check up if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah sure, do your thing”, you allow him, trying to sit up.

Jungkook is on the bed instantly, helping you and keeping his hand on your back afterwards to support you. He holds your hand for good measures, eyes racing over your face in worry. All while Hoseok checks your body for any signs of a more serious illness, asking you questions about how certain spots and places feel.

“Okay, I think we’re done”, he says, lowering his stethoscope after checking your lungs.

“And?” Taehyung asks, having watched the whole scene whilst completely ruining his fingernails by biting them vigorously.

“I’m pretty sure that you caught the nastiest flu as a result of your body finally burning out”, Hoseok tells you, looking over his shoulder at Taehyung for just a quick second.

“So she got burn out, is that what you’re insinuating?”

“Yes, very much so. I can’t say if it’s human burn out or magical burn out, but it’s definitely one of those if not both.”

“What? But that’s impossible”, you gasp, “I didn’t even do anything.”

“Yeah sure”, Hoseok scoffs, “you didn’t work yourself into madness these past nine weeks. Be for real, ___. You’re lucky that you only burned out instead of just dropping dead.”

You lower your eyes in shame. How far did you lose yourself?

“So what can we do to help?” Jungkook asks.

“We should let her rest”, Hoseok says, “do you hear me, ___? Rest. That’s all you need right now. To rest and to recover”, Hoseok explains, storing his tools in his bag, “and to actually eat something again. You look starved.”

“I know”, you say.

“Here. I made you some stew”, Jimin says, presenting the bowl of hot stew with rice to you, “there’s lots of veggies in there for vitamins. You should try it.”

“I’ll try it a little later, I have to do one more thing.”

“___”, Hoseok warns in a stern voice.

“It’s not going to take long, I promise”, you insist.

“What do you even want to do?”

“I just…” you hesitate.

“You want to use the knife on Yoongi, don’t you?” Taehyung asks.

“Maybe?” you whisper.

“But it made you bleed last time”, Jungkook protests.

“Yes, but that was because I didn’t sleep and I, I was emotional. I know how to control myself now. It’s not going to make me bleed again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I slept and I feel good.”

“You said that the last time as well”, Taehyung protests, “I didn’t want to be angry at you anymore, but you are not making it easy not to. Didn’t you hear what Hoseok just told you?”

“I, I did and I’m planning on taking the biggest and laziest rest afterwards. I just have to know that Yoongi is alive and well. I can’t relax beforehand, even talking to you guys makes me anxious because I could already be with him, saving him.”

The four vampires exchange looks. They seem to be lost for words. All of them.

“See? You guys know that I’m right. So let me do the one thing I have been aching to do for the past seventy days.”

“And afterwards you will finally rest?”

“Yes, I will. I promise you guys.”

“Fuck. Then do what you must, it is not like we can actually stop you”, Taehyung gives up.

“Yes, you really can’t”, you say, “Kook, help me out of bed, I need to get up.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Yoongi wouldn’t want you dying for him, you know that he’d rather die with you than wake up and have you be dead”, Jungkook says, lifting you out of bed. He sets you down as gently as possible, holding your hands as support.

“I know, but I’m not going to die. The magic isn’t even that strong. I can handle it”, you assure him, “thank you”, you thank Hoseok after he helped you slip on your morning robe.

“I’m on Jungkook’s side by the way. I really think that you should rest for at least a day or two.”

“I will”, you give him a reassuring smile, “after I saved Yoongi. Now follow me guys, let’s get Yoongi back”, you say, taking the knife from the bedside table to finally get your love.

“This is such a bad idea, I can’t believe that I am letting her do this”, you hear Taehyung talk to Jimin, but ignore it. Your head may be pounding like crazy and your every step feels like too much, but you have a job to finish. Even if it is the last thing you will ever do. You won’t abandon Yoongi.

“What happened to the captives?” you ask Jungkook as you hurry to Yoongi’s wing together. Hoseok is by your other side, holding your other hand. Jimin and Taehyung follow right behind you, eyeing you with suspicious worry.

“We put them back into their original cells”, Jungkook tells you.

“Okay. Good. And the vampire I saved?”

“He’s still alive. The stab wound healed and he says that he feels the same.”

“Good. That’s good. I can’t believe that it actually worked. Holy shit, I’m getting Yoongi back”, you murmur, opening the door to his wing.

“If it works. I’m telling you, if I see you beginning to die because of the spell, I’m stopping it. I can’t lose you too.”

“It won’t fail, I’m sure of it.”

The bedroom door opens swiftly. You quicken your steps now that Yoongi was so near.

He looks like he always does.

“Hey there, my love”, you greet him, cupping his cheek, “holy shit, since when did your skin get so grey?”

“It’s always been this grey.”

“It has?” you run your eyes over his features. Sunken in eyes, prominent cheekbones, purple lips and grey skin and hair which has lost every shine and life. He doesn’t look healthy. He looks sick. How have you never noticed?

You feel emotions well up in your chest. How blind to his state were you? Clutching the handle of the knife, you force control back into your chest. You can’t become emotional now. You have to save him. It is right here, in your palm. The solution to his current awful state lies within your palm. You just have to step closer and push the blade inside his chest.

“What are you waiting for?” Jimin asks.

“I’m scared”, you confess, “what if I do it wrong?”

“You won’t do it wrong. I’ve watched you do it to that vampire like you’ve done it a million times before.”

“Yes, but that was because I didn’t care if he died or not. What if I mess up now?”

“If you start doubting yourself, you will talk your body into messing up. It’s best to just do it.”

“I know”, you tighten the grip on the knife, gaze switching between Yoongi’s sick face and his chest. You can get him back. You have done so much. You fought the most terrible of nightmares in the tunnels and you won. You won. You won against Namjoon. You found a cure. It worked on his creation and it will work on Yoongi.

“I love you, my prince. I’m getting you back”, you whisper and then you begin chanting the words as the knife pierces his chest.

The silver glow around him fades more and more. The knife feels like burning coal between your fingers.

“Okay wait, it’s actually working. Keep going”, Jungkook gasps, touching your back for support, “you’re doing it, baby. You’re actually doing it.”

Your vision is blurry from the pain of your head. Your voice can barely produce the right words without struggle for air. Blood drips from your nose.

“___ you? Wait, stop, you’re bleeding again. Wait.”

“Darling please stop right now”, Taehyung begs.

You only begin chanting louder, drowning out their begging. You can feel it working. The knife may be burning your flesh to the bone but you are getting him back. You are actually lifting the curse.

“Ah!” you exclaim, ripping your hands away as the knife begins melting in your fingers.

“It’s melting?” Jimin gasps.

“No, Yoongi” you exclaim, pulling it out of his chest even if you have never felt such pain before. You drop it afterwards, staring at your ruined hand with tears of pain in your eyes.

“What did you do? Your hand!” Taehyung gasps.

“I’m fine”, you croak, “what, what happened?” you stutter. You can taste the blood in your mouth as it runs out of your nose.

“It didn’t work, please let’s rest now. I’ll heal your hand and then rest with you”, Taehyung insists, trying to pull you away from Yoongi’s bed.

“No! No it should have worked! It, it worked on the other vampire!”

“Maybe it worked because it was regular wood.”

“No!” you yell so loud your voice bounces off the walls, “no, it should have worked! Why didn’t it work?!”

“Let’s just rest, please darling.”

“No”, you shake yourself free of his grasp, “no, why didn’t it work? It, it should have worked!” you scream, grabbing Yoongi by the collar of his shirt, “wake up, Yoongi! Please my love wake up!”

“Don’t do that. Your hands are ruined, you have to let me heal you.”

You can’t hear what Taehyung is saying. It didn’t work. After everything you did, it didn’t work.

“Please Yoongi, I’m fucking begging you, please come back to me.”

“Let’s just go”, Taehyung whispers with heartbreak in his voice. It pains him that you failed. He wanted for you to be successful. He really, really did.

“Let go of me, I have to try again. Where, where is the knife?” you fight him, crazed eyes scanning the ground, “there. No!”

Taehyung lifts you before you can bend down.

“Let me go! What’s wrong with you? Let go of me!” you protest, fighting him with nails and feet.

“You have to rest, it didn’t work and, and you are hurt”, Taehyung says.

“No Yoongi! Let me go! Yoongi please wake up, please!” you beg as you get carried away further and further.

Taehyung turns you so you couldn’t look at the bed anymore.

“Let me go! I hate you! I fucking hate you so much! Let me go!”

“I’m sorry”, Taehyung whispers shakily, swallowing down the painful sob he wants to let out.

“Yoongi, please wake up! Don’t fucking go where I can’t follow, please!” you beg, clutching the doorframe even if your fingers ache like the never ached before, “let me go!”

Taehyung wins and manages to get you out of Yoongi’s bedroom.

“Yoongi! Let me go! Yoongi!”

You lost. You lost. You lost your Yoongi. You lost.

“No”, you wail, “I want to die, I want to fucking die. Just kill me, please.”

“Please stop, please just-”, Taehyung begs only to be stopped by Hoseok screaming your names.

He appears in the doorframe a second later. Jungkook screams your name in the background, begging you to come back.

“Come back. Yoongi! Something’s happening!”

“What?” you push yourself away from Taehyung, overwhelm him and fight free. Your feet drop on the ground hard and rough, shaking you through so much that you feel dizzy as you run, “Yoongi! I’m coming!”

“___ come here, quick come here”, Jungkook stresses.

You fall into him from just how quickly you ran to the bed. But neither you nor Jungkook feel the impact, holding each other as your teary eyes are focused on Yoongi’s face. Jimin and Taehyung appear behind you a second later.

“What’s happening?” Taehyung asks.

“Holy fuck”, you press out. You can barely see what is happening as your vision becomes darker and darker. Everything aches so terribly. You feel so weak. And yet you keep looking, watching with tears streaming down your face, as Yoongi’s features morph into the healthy face you have fallen in love with. His hair changes from a dull silver to dark black, the grey of his skin becomes less and less.

“It worked”, Jungkook whispers, “holy fuck, it worked.”

His cheeks gain in softness again and his once sunken eyes move back into place. His once purple, chapped lips become the soft, pink lips you will always love to kiss.

“It worked, you-”, Jungkook stops upon seeing the state you find yourself in, “___, are you okay?”

Yoongi’s eyes open just as yours fall closed.

132 notes · View notes

tiniedemon · 1 year

Text

— ♡

two birds

kyle broflovski / reader

— ♡

cw. | angst

“i want to move away,” you whispered into the darkness of your room. kyle jolted from his spot beside you, head lifting from your bare chest.

“what makes you say that?” he responded, genuinely confused and hurt. you’d lived in south park your entire life. your entire family was here. he was here. why would you want to move away?

“i hate this stupid town.” he let out a shaky sigh, pulling you closer to him, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

“i hate it too, but it’s home. it’s always been home,” he whispered, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. you sighed softly, a void opening in your stomach, and plastered a soft smile on your face.

“yeah, you’re right,” you agreed. you swallowed the lump in your throat as his head rested against your chest, releasing a shaky sigh. a single tear rolled towards your hairline.

—

“i can’t stand this stupid town,” you murmured, flicking the ash from the end of your cigarette. kenny grunted in agreement, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair.

“i can’t either. if i could leave, i would,” kenny responded, his eyes mirroring the hurt trapped in his mind. “but i’ve got karen to worry about. shit sucks.”

you sighed. your gaze wandered to the sky, clouds floating against a blue backdrop. you envied the clouds. they’d seen so much more of the world than you. they were free to move with the breezes of life’s natural path.

“yeah, i get it,” you finally responded, a plume of smoke leaving your mouth. you watched as it floated to join the puffy white forms in the atmosphere, the longing in your heart and the void in your stomach growing.

“i just hate this town, is all.”

—

“hey, baby?” kyle called from the other room, voice perplexed. you heaved a sigh, seemingly the only thing you knew to do nowadays, and trekked to the kitchen area of your small apartment. kyle’s freckled face was illuminated only by the blue luminescence of his laptop screen. paperwork lined the table in front of them.

“yes?” you inquired, stopping behind him and leaning your elbows against the chair. your fingers instinctively combed through the cropped curls on the back of his neck, eyes tracing the sharp curve of his tensed jaw.

“why do you have six thousand dollars in savings?”

your body froze, your lungs forgetting to breathe. you’d forgotten all about kyle’s access to your bank account. years worth of savings were open for his eyes to see, transactions stretching over nearly six years.

“baby?” he asked softly, eyes softening as he saw the panic on your face. his hand gripped onto yours, fingers lacing together, and as his eyes met yours, you could breathe again.

“i’d rather not talk about it,” you whispered in a hoarse voice. kyle hesitated, but nodded, and the tension relaxed from your chest.

“i understand. just know you can trust me,” kyle murmured. you gave an absentminded nod, returning to your shared bedroom in a haze.

you didn’t know how much longer you could do this for.

—

“only a few more months until you move. have you told kyle yet?” bebe asked, body reclined and feet up against the coffee table. you chuckled sadly from your mirrored position next to her, tossing her a mournful glance from your phone screen. the look she gave you was pure pity, but you chose to ignore it for your own sanity.

“i mentioned it to him once. he acted like he didn’t really like idea of moving away from his whole family, so i didn’t push. i can do it on my own,” you explained, absentmindedly scrolling through videos as you spoke. bebe sighed beside you, nudging you with her elbow.

“try to tell him soon, okay? he needs time to prepare,” she hummed. you hesitated, but nodded nonetheless.

this was slowly turning out to be more stressful than you’d originally thought.

—

“i want to move away,” you spoke again, kyle looking up at you from his book. his eyebrows were furrowed, concern in his eyes. you could see the worry from a mile away.

“why do you want to?” he asked. finally, you felt seen. you felt heard. he wasn’t brushing you off. the relief was only minute in the face of the decision you’d made for yourself.

“i feel so trapped, ky,” you murmured, looking at the ceiling. you couldn’t look at him. not in this situation. “i just have to get out of south park. i can’t live here anymore.”

kyle sucked in sharply, and you could imagine the fallen expression he wore. you worried your lip between your teeth, awaiting his response.

“i can’t come with you,” he whispered. the tension in the room was so thick you could barely breathe. your heart shattered in your chest, tears rising to your eyes.

“i know.”

the silence was deafening.

—

“i can’t believe you’re actually leaving,” kyle murmured, hand in yours as you stood beside your car. you blinked back tears, plastering a weak smile on your lips.

“i can come visit soon,” you lied. you wouldn’t be back for a long time. not to this trashy hick town. there was nothing here for you except kyle, but even he wasn’t enough to bring you back.

“i’m gonna miss having you in my bed,” he sighed, tugging you into a tight embrace. you inhaled his scent, committed it to memory, basked in the warmth of his chest.

“i love you,” you whispered. kyle pressed a kiss to the top of your head, returning the sentiment in a cracking voice, before he finally released you.

you didn’t look back as south park disappeared from your rear view.

—

your phone buzzed against your blanket, lighting the ceiling with an incoming call. you released a shaky, tearful sigh, unwilling to look at the screen.

you knew it was kyle, and you knew you couldn’t answer. dodging his calls was the most difficult thing you’d ever done, but it was necessary. he had to forget about you, for his own sake.

you double clicked the power button, turned your phone over, and cried.

as much as you hated leaving him, you hated south park more.

—

the doorbell was startling. you’d nearly dumped a cup of scalding tea on yourself with how hard you jolted. frightened and confused, you rose from your couch. you didn’t have any friends in this new town.

but you did in your hometown.

kyle was startled upon seeing you, taking in the changes in your appearance. your skin looked healthier, your hair looked shinier, your face looked happier. overall, you looked better. he hadn’t noticed how half dead you’d looked until you were at your best.

“kyle?” you managed to utter through your surprise. he scuffed his foot against the pavement of your porch, hands in his pockets, sheepish smile on his face.

“i missed you in my bed,” he stated shyly. your heart pounded in your chest, tears rising to the surface. “i was wondering if i could stay in yours from now on?”

you were quick to nod, stomach twisting and face smiling. he brought you into the tightest embrace of your life yet, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead.

“i love you so much,” you whispered into his ear. he guided the two of you into your home, shutting the door with his foot, collapsing against you atop the couch. he whispered his undying love to you between desperate kisses, fingers bruising with how hard he cherished you.

as the saying goes, if you love something, let it go, and if it comes back, it’s meant to be.

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader

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heartslobbf · 10 months

Note

could you talk about food in rgu as a kind of symbol for incest? it doesn't have to be anything too coherent or anything i just loved that post and would like to hear a bit more abt it!

hello yes absolutely!!!!! i appreciate you enabling me to be incoherent because whilst i claim to be a writer, i am godawful at putting anything polished out thanks to my perfectionism. you do not want to see my rgu essay drafts.

anyway. food and incest in rgu. i made a post saying that every food item in rgu at least tangentially relates to the show's exploration of incestuous abuse and how that is directly enabled by the institution of family. underneath the cut im gonna talk about my favourite and most notable examples of this. note that i will be closely discussing examples of incestuous abuse and csa in rgu.

my big thesis on this topic stems from the fact that anthy can't cook but akio can. anthy is capable of making non-substantial food, and otherwise entirely incompetent in the kitchen. she can't really provide for herself, and thus is dependent on others (namely akio) to live. akio is an adult who prides himself on his supposed independence (note how that independence helps shape his americanised masculinity), and not only does he cook and therefore provide for anthy, later utena and nanami, but he's shown to be beyond competent in the kitchen. he bakes a cake in episode 30 which both utena and wakaba comment on as being impressive, and in episode 32 he makes a rose hip jam that suggests his culinary skills go beyond standard measures.

the family institution makes it incredibly difficult for people to leave abusive families, especially when they are children. the ability to feed oneself in rgu determines how stuck in ohtori's system a character is. wakaba, for instance, is presented as an amateurish cook, and despite having proximity to the duels and akio is never fully subsumed by them. saionji and tsuwabuki are probably the other characters most notable for culinary skills, and for both of them they are only ever shown preparing food for themselves or nanami. with tsuwabuki, this is another of his unintentionally sinister attempts to be close with nanami. he is essentially trying to make her depend upon him to live, but he's literally 10 and doesn't really understand the implications of what he's doing. he just wants to provide for her! saionji offers to make nanami eggs when he notices that she's distressed, and i think this gets at the nuance of dependence on others, and being a provider. namely, you will and should be dependent upon others to an extent. offering and accepting help alike is important. saionji offering to make nanami eggs is a nice and genuine moment between them, and is distinctly different from some other instances ive discussed because their relationship isn't abusive or toxic or pseudo-incestuous or whatever else.

i'd like to suggest that miki and kozue's milkshake is actually quite similar to the eggs, even though their relationship is both toxic and incestuous. when kozue asks miki for a milkshake at the end of episode 15, she's extending an olive branch. the milkshake is complicated undoubtedly, but i think it pretty effectively summarises the issues in their relationship a la purity and knowledge and independence. i would write more on this if i'd rewatched ep 15 recently but it's worth noting that the milkshake is textually childish and non-substantive, and that's why kozue initially rejects it whilst miki makes and drinks it.

my magnum opus of incestuous food is the shaved ice, which is kind of like saying the sky is blue. like gee i wonder why anthy tells nanami in episode 4 that mixing the red and yellow syrrups together tastes so good like i just cant work it out its too subtle as utena always is. and of course the shaved ice reprises in episodes 31 and 32, or as i like to call them, Hey Check Out This Show's Thesis On Incestuous Abuse. dont think i need to explain whats going on when anthy feeds akio shaved ice in front of nanami and theyre both horribly uncomfortably coy and flirtatious the whole time. i definitely think theres something in anthy's shaved ice facilitating incestuous implications in all its appearances, but im not sure what. the ice isnt about forcing people to depend upon their family members, it's childish and indulgent and there's certainly something in that which relates to anthy. i actually have a lot of thoughts about anthy's perception of incest, namely because she loves to make jokes about it and all of them make me very sad. all instances of shaved ice are about taunting nanami, also. lots of thoughts here.

final big cornerstone in food = incest relates to a throwaway moment at the start of ep 11 where utena reveals that she intended to eat a single pre-packaged piece of convenience food for lunch, and wakaba and anthy both provide elaborate bentos for her instead. utena is an orphan. there's no one to provide for her in any socially conventional way, her parents aren't making her lunches nor have they taught her how to. returning to my Akio Can Cook point, in episode 26 akio tells utena that he considers her 'practically family'. there is a pseudo-incestuous nature to akio's relationships with both utena and touga, which is a broader point for a broader topic, but what's really important here is that utena feels she can depend upon akio to provide for her. and, horribly, she can! this makes it all the more difficult to reject him, because he is everything she has wanted ever since her parents died. you can also link to tsuwabuki here with pseudo-incest, and returning to touga momentarily there's something about the kiryuu family and all of their food being made by staff and also, you know, incest and pseudo-incest.

i think these are the big things to hit in regards to this idea. the curry episode is also absolutely fascinating, as is kanae and the apple, as is the cantarella scene and tea and cookies in ten years time. im kind of just throwing ideas around now but im not trying to write some deeply considered essay here, more so throw around some ideas ive had and see if anything sticks with anyone else.

#hope this was interesting lol its kind of just a thought dump!!#anon #answered #rgu #incest mention

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the-rad-pineapple · 1 month

Text

Exposed (Rewritten)

Ahsoka finds out about Anakin and Padme's relationship.

5k words

ao3

Ahsoka sighed. “Why do we have to come to this again?” she asked as she looked up at her master. They were approaching the banquet hall, the large double-doors in view.

“You know we can’t do the fun and exciting stuff all the time , Snips. War is more than just fighting. It’s politics as well,” Anakin explained, “and besides, we also need to honor Senator Amidala and her accomplishments. We’re her friends and we need to support her.”

Ahsoka sighed again. She hadn’t expected a lecture. At least it hadn’t been a long one. “Yeah, but Jedi do the fun and exciting stuff in the war, not the politics part.”

“We won’t be the only Jedi there. Obi-Wan will be there, too.”

“Oh, yay,” Ahsoka said sarcastically, “I feel so much better.”

Anakin laughed and shook his head. They reached the doors, and Anakin was about to grab one when it swung open, revealing Senator Amidala.

She was wearing an ornate gown the cool pale blue of the sky just before sunrise. She beamed at him. “Anakin! I’m glad you came.”

“Anything for you,” he said, smiling.

She moved as if to embrace him, but froze when her eyes landed on Ahsoka. Which was strange. Hugging wasn’t forbidden, but it was a false stereotype many people believed since Jedi weren’t supposed to keep emotional attachments with others or whatever it was the Council had instructed Ahsoka a million times before. It really said something about their teachings since she couldn’t even remember the exact wording of that rule now.

But Senator Amidala’s smile was still warm when she said, “It’s nice to see you too, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka returned her smile. “And it’s nice to see you, Senator,” she replied politely. Politeness and mildness didn’t come easy to Ahsoka, but it was easier around the senator. She had a calming presence and wasn’t all stuck-up like most of the other senators.

“You can call me Padmé when it’s just us, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka’s smile widened.

“But keep it formal in front of the other senators and Jedi,” Anakin instructed, suddenly serious.

Ahsoka caught Padmé’s eye, and she rolled them but then grinned afterwards. It was an exchange only the two of them were a part of, and it made Ahsoka feel special. And liked. She wasn’t often liked by others, and it made her feel as if she and Padmé were closer than acquaintances. Maybe even friends. But she wouldn’t go that far until she heard it from the senator herself.

Padmé invited them inside, and Ahsoka knew this was going to be a long night . The room was covered in fancy, glimmering decorations, the likes of which Ahsoka had only ever seen on Coruscant. Old and snobby senators alike milled about the entire room slowly sipping on their drinks, waiting for the main course to begin. It didn’t help Ahsoka hardly recognized any of them, and she knew she would be hearing more than enough politics tonight than she would ever like to know about. This was going to be a boring one. She turned to her master to commiserate their horrible situation (Ahsoka would honestly prefer a fleet of battle droids right now), but he was still talking to Padmé. And their conversation must have been really exciting because they were both completely engrossed in their conversation. Great . She was going to have to venture into the scary world of politics alone. Why couldn’t Rex be here?

Half an hour later, most of the senators had politely greeted Ahsoka, but they didn’t really say much to her. Thankfully. But then a really old senator approached her and started lecturing her about how the Senate was using its money. He was really going into detail. Ahsoka had no idea what half the words that he was using even meant. She decided to focus on the other party guests instead. She studied their clothing, their accents, even what drinks they were drinking. She was mentally going through the list of planets all of the senators originated from when a voice said,

“Ahsoka? Are you listening to me, child?” the old senator was saying to her. “This is extremely important.”

“Oh, um, of course,” Ahsoka lied, throwing him a fake smile.

“I am about to tell you how my people catalog their documents. It’s really quite fascinating. The system we use is extremely unique.” The senator took a breath, and Ahsoka knew this was her doom.

Then, miraculously, a tinging sound resounded throughout the banquet, interrupting the senator glued to Ahsoka’s side before he could begin blathering away again. Everyone looked to Padmé as she clinked her drink with a spoon. Anakin was still beside her. It was as if those two hadn’t talked to anyone else. Those traitors had abandoned her! Ahsoka tried to glare at her master, but his eyes were fixed on Padmé. Oh, she’d get him back for this.

“Hello, everyone,” Padmé addressed, “I’m so glad you all were able to make it tonight. As you know, this is a major accomplishment that will change not only the Senate, but the Republic as a whole for the greater good. We are going to begin dining soon, so please make your way to the table.”

“Why don’t you sit with me?” the old senator asked. “Then we can finish our talk about documentation.”

No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

The elder senator put his arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders and began guiding her to the table. She had to do something and fast . She threw a panicked look at Anakin. She had to catch his eye. That’s all she had to do, then he would get her out of this. But he wouldn’t look away from Padmé for one second . That was all she needed. One second! But then her window for receiving help passed; it was too late. Ahsoka and the elder senator had arrived at the dining table. Once they sat down, Ahsoka looked up and saw that her master and Padmé were sitting across from her. So close.

Entrees were served, and the night really began. There was a dish for each major system represented. And an explanation of the culture behind each dish. Which was kinda fun the first three times, but Ahsoka grimaced when the droids began to bring out the fourth course. She finally met Anakin’s gaze, and they both exchanged a look of shared misery.

It was during the fourth course when Ahsoka knew she couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to die from this; slowly being overfed while some old-ass senator, whose name she still didn’t know, melted her brain with mind-numbing lectures about things that no one, even the Supreme Chancellor, would care about. Literally worse than war. She had to stop this—even for only a single second. Ahsoka dropped her fork.

“Oh sorry,” Ahsoka said, interrupting the senator. He was currently talking about the history of boots, and the significance they had to his people. So, you know, super fucking boring . “I dropped my fork. I’m just going to get it real fast.” Ahsoka slowly bent down to get her fork. She “accidentally” pushed it farther under the table.

As she was retrieving her fork, Ahsoka noticed something. She saw two people holding hands. A man and a woman, judging by the clothes. Strange they felt the need to hide their hands. Maybe it was more comfortable under the table? Or…there was drama. Finally , something exciting. She’ll have to tell Ana—

Oh.

Oh .

Ahsoka quickly sat up in her chair and looked across the table at her master and Padmé. They weren’t looking at each other. And Padmé was speaking with the senator on her left. And Anakin…he looked just as bored as Ahsoka was. Maybe she’d imagined it. Because there was no way . Being friends with someone was one thing, but having an attachment like this ? This would be enough for suspension. Or worse! But before Ahsoka could study her master and Padmé any further, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned.

“Now, where were we?” the ancient senator said. “Ah, yes, the boot. Did you know the boot plays a significant part in my people’s culture? It is quite captivating. Let me tell you about it.”

Ahsoka groaned.

---

The next morning, Ahsoka awoke ready for the day. Nothing could be worse than that banquet. The elder senator had talked to Ahsoka for the rest of the night— through the entire seven-course meal, through the dancing, and through Padmé’s speech at the end. But today was a new day. No more old senators for her!

Ahsoka and Anakin had been assigned a mission. Not anything big. There was a small earthquake on one of the planets in the Outer Rim, and she and her master were going to help the people there.

Ahsoka lied in bed until she was in danger of becoming late before she got ready. She rushed through her hygiene routine and bursted out of her room exactly a half hour before take-off. This was the plan for every mission she and Anakin had: to meet outside her room 30 minutes before they left. But Anakin wasn’t here. Which was not unheard of. But then five minutes passed. Five more. Nearly fifteen minutes in total passed before Ahsoka decided to seek out Rex since he was coming with them on this mission. But when she finally found him and asked him if he had seen her master, he said he didn’t know where he was.

Time was ticking, and Ahsoka began to get a little desperate. She started to search for her master in every place she could think of. Even completely unlikely and illogical places like the storage room in the hangar and the 501st’s temporary lodgings. But he was nowhere to be found! She felt like she had searched for him everywhere. Where could he possibly be ?

…There was the entire Senate wing of the building left. Why Anakin would be there, she had no idea, but she was honestly out of options. So, Ahsoka decided to go to Padmé’s office. It wasn't like she knew many senators, and it wasn’t like she knew many senators she liked . Padmé happened to be both, so she was really the only option.

Plus, Ahsoka was secretly hoping the senator would help her find her master. There were hardly any other people Ahsoka knew this closely, and so what if she wanted to indulge in some time with someone who actually had a sense of adventure? She thought last night went well, and Padmé had seemed genuinely glad she was there. But that could also be wishful thinking.

Shaking the self-doubt away, Ahsoka clicked the button to open the door to Padmé’s office, and it silently slid open.

To reveal Padmé and Anakin on the couch.

Kissing.

But, no.

Kissing would be too tame a term for this . No, this— this— was making out . Like, Padmé’s fingers tangled in Anakin’s hair sort of making out. Like, Ahsoka realizing Anakin’s hands were wandering to places she did not want to see the destination of type of making out.

It all happened in one instant. And it was too much to see. It was too personal to see.

And it wasn’t allowed.

Oh, fuck.

In a rush of adrenaline, Ahsoka clicked the button to close the door. She didn’t even remember racing down the hallway and into the restroom, but now here she was, standing in a locked stall, deep breaths echoing loudly in the empty bathroom.

What. The. Fuck.

What the fuck !!!

The image of them kissing flashed through her mind before she could stop it.

Oh, shit. Shit . That was so fucking gross . And, also, what the fuck !!

There was no way. There was no fucking way that really happened.

She needed to calm down. She needed to think more clearly about this.

She remembered their wandering hands and couldn’t stop the disgusted noise that crawled its way up her throat.

Why?!

How long had this been happening?! How had she not known ?!

Did she…did she really see what she saw?

Her mind unhelpfully conjured the memory up for her. Again. She shivered in disgust. Okay, yup. It was real. There was no way she could make that up. No fucking way.

And, oh, shit. Anakin! He should not be doing this. This…this thing …was definitely not free from emotional entanglement. This was bad . So bad. He knew better than this!

Oh, what was she going to do ??

Ahsoka couldn’t snitch on him. She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t lose him. That just wasn’t an option. Especially not over something like this . Something so trivial in comparison to the other times she had been afraid to lose him. The only threat to losing Anakin should be on the battlefield. Not anywhere else.

Ahsoka couldn’t go through the process of getting a new master either. But…if worse came to worse, she could probably become Obi-Wan’s Padawan, and she knew he’d let her spend time with Anakin. So…maybe…it wouldn’t be so bad.

But only if Anakin didn’t get expelled. Which…was a very high possibility. And she would never, ever be the reason he got expelled. So…telling anyone about this was completely out of the question.

What was she supposed to do??

She needed to calm down. That was what she needed to do right now. She needed to center herself. Get herself together. So she took a deep breath. And then another. And another. Until she was breathing normally again.

She had to ask him. She had to know for certain if there even was anything to freak out about. But, until then, she wasn’t going to think about it. It wasn’t even going to cross her mind.

…But the more she tried not to think about it, the more she did.

She had to get out of the bathroom. That was the first step.

Ahsoka unlocked the stall door, and it opened with a painful squeak. She caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the sinks and mirror, and she looked terrified. She forced herself to relax, letting the tension bleed from her shoulders. She looked a little more natural now, but still a bit stiff. She sighed. Moments like these made her wonder what exactly her life was.

When she opened the restroom door, movement down the hallway caught her eye, and she turned. Anakin was just now stepping out of Padmé’s office. He must’ve felt her nearby because he turned and then smiled when their eyes met.

Ahsoka’s heart jumped at directly looking at the person whose secret she knew. Fuck. Keeping this hidden from him was going to be super difficult . It was one thing to keep a secret, but it was another thing entirely to keep a secret from the person you spend the most time with about the person you spend the most time with. This entire situation was a time bomb.

How the hell did Anakin keep this secret?

She must already be giving something away, because he asked, “Are you okay, Ahsoka?”

She smiled something painful. “Oh, yeah, totally. I’m so good right now. Yup!” She smiled even wider to try to convince him.

It didn’t seem to work, because he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Okay,” he said unconvinced, “if you say so.”

But he didn’t push it any further and began to lead them down the hallway towards the ship they were going to take on their mission. The silence was excruciating, but Ahsoka didn’t know what to say. It was weird. It was wrong . This knowledge changed everything , and she hated it.

The silence persisted, and Ahsoka began to drown in it.

Should she say anything? What would she normally be talking about? It had all been so effortless before. Talking with Anakin had been easy before. Will it never be easy again?

A small icy panic clutched at her heart. Is everything between them ruined now??

---

Ahsoka bolted out of the ship the second they landed. She plowed onward so quickly and so determinedly that she missed the rubble entirely until she tripped over it. She stumbled over a large piece of crumbling building and blinked up at the scene before her. The day was bright and sunny with only a few clouds in the sky, but the earthquake's destruction was obvious. Large cracks slashed across the land, and broken speeders and droids were strewn all over the fractured street like electronic skeletons. Buildings were nothing more than large piles of rubble. People were sifting through them, and Ahsoka realized some of them were crying. These must be their homes—reduced to nothing but meaningless pieces. Others huddled in groups, tense, but together. Hopelessness filled the air. It was awful.

“Ahsoka!”

It was Anakin. Ahsoka closed her eyes and summoned a deep breath for courage.

She turned and grinned. “Yes, Master?”

He reached her, and she watched his eyes flick over her, taking in her tense stance and the distance she’d placed between them.

He asked, “Is there something we need to talk about?”

She could easily say no. She could easily lie. But when she met his gaze, she knew she couldn’t. Because this was Anakin . Her master. The most important person in her life. Someone who felt more like a brother to her—more like family— than was probably allowed. But what was “allowed” didn’t matter. Not really. Not now. What mattered was him . And how important he was to her. And how important she was to him. She could see it now, in the way he was looking at her with such strong concern.

“Yes,” she finally admitted.

“Okay,” he said gently. “What’s going on?”

It was difficult to hold his gaze, but she did. Her heart was pounding as if she was engaged in battle. It was distracting and a bit embarrassing how affected she was over a conversation.

She asked, “Do you have, um…feelings for someone?”

Maybe she should’ve been more direct. Maybe she should’ve just told him outright what she saw. But this was hard . And she was trying . …Struggling might have been a more accurate word.

“Why?” He stepped closer. “Is this about someone you’ve met?”

Intrusively, the phrase overprotective brother popped into her mind.

She shoved it away. “No!” she exclaimed frustratedly. “I’m talking about you ! Do you have feelings for someone!”

He immediately tensed. Defensive. This was exactly what she didn’t want. Her outburst probably hadn’t helped, and she internally chided herself for not having better control over her emotions.

“Ahsoka, that is inevitable. I think we’ve all had feelings for someone at some point in our lives,” he answered vaguely. “Now what is this really about?”

Ahsoka deflated. “I saw you today,” she began, “with Padmé.” She raised her eyebrows, signaling for him to get the message , so she wouldn’t have to explain it in any more detail. Because she did not even want to think about the details, let alone say any of them out loud .

It took Anakin a moment to understand what she meant, and then his face turned a bright shade of red. It was almost funny if she wasn’t on the verge of panicking.

“I’m not sure what you thought you saw,” Anakin began, but his face was still red, so there was no denying that they both knew what she’d seen.

Ahsoka glared and crossed her arms. “I know what I saw. Anakin .”

The use of his name was surprisingly effective, and he startled when she said it. “Okay, well, look.” His eyes danced around, never settling on anything for more than a second. “There’s an explanation. For what you saw.”

She had never seen her master panic like this before, and it was hilarious . She’d seen him stare down countless battle droids and Separatist generals without batting an eye, but now he was a complete mess over a kiss ? She could hardly believe it!

Ahsoka almost didn’t hide her grin in time when she taunted, “Oh, please, do tell .”

“Well. Okay. We were…” He still didn’t look her in the eyes.

“You were what ?”

“...Have you already told Obi-Wan?” he asked quietly, and when he managed to lift his eyes, he looked devastated .

Oh.

“No,” she said softly. “No, Master, I didn’t.” She took a couple steps closer. His eyes were glued to her, and he suddenly looked so young . Like he really was just a few years older than she was. Like he was only a teenager himself almost a year ago. “I didn’t tell anyone,” she promised.

Anakin frowned. “But I— This is a violation of the Jedi Code.”

“And? We break the rules all the time, don’t we?”

Steadfastly and unrelenting, “This is different, Ahsoka.”

“How?” she challenged.

“It’s been– We…”

An uncomfortable beat.

“It’s serious . Isn’t it?” she asked, her tone softer.

He nodded.

“You… Are you in love with her?”

His features lightened then into something soft and vulnerable— lovesick —and the tension left him so fast, his shoulders slumped in relief. “Ahsoka…” He hesitated. His eyes were fierce when he spoke, “You understand you can tell no one .”

“I know.”

And she really did. She had discovered his most well-hidden, deepest secret. Something he held closer to his heart than anything else. She had looked into a part of him that almost no one else knew about. This was Anakin in his purest—his most vulnerable—form: a man willing to risk everything to keep the woman he loved. To continue to exist in defiance to the life he swore all for love . It was incredible, and it was something he thought he had to hide. That he had been taught to hide.

Then Ahsoka realized that he didn’t answer her question.

But it was like he read her mind, because he said, “I married her.”

Before Ahsoka could even begin to process that , the ground started to shake. It jolted , and Ahsoka nearly lost her balance. People screamed. Troopers rushed about, assisting anyone they could. For a moment, Ahsoka could feel the terror of the destruction the original quake had caused. It nearly drowned her, but then Anakin’s hand was on her shoulder, sharply bringing her back to the present.

It was only an aftershock that lasted for a few seconds, and the dust settled and people quieted. Except for one. Someone was continuing to scream. Anakin and Ahsoka quickly exchanged a look before racing towards the sound.

A woman was crying near a house with a door completely blocked by debris. Anakin knelt down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“My child! My little girl is stuck in the house!” she cried. “She was in the basement during the aftershock, but now it’s blocked! I can’t even get into the house!” Then she bursted into tears.

“Watch her,” Anakin instructed. “I’ll find a way inside.” He jumped to his feet.

“Master!”

He paused.

“Be careful,” Ahsoka pleaded.

He smiled warmly, and his eyes finally lit back up to how they usually were. “Don’t worry about me, Snips. I’ll be fine.”

She watched as he took off, easily finding an entrance through one of the windows at the front of the house. A strange ache filled her chest, making her want to run after him. She pushed it down and turned to the woman and placed a hand on her shoulder like Anakin had been doing moments before.

“It’s going to be alright,” Ahsoka comforted. “He’ll get her out of there.”

Through choked tears, the woman asked, “How can you be sure?”

“Because I know him,” Ahsoka said, “and he’ll do everything he can to make sure your daughter is rescued. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“You’re Jedi.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Saving people is kind of our thing.”

The woman furrowed her brow as if she disagreed, but before she could speak, another aftershock hit. This one was more violent than the first. The ground pitched beneath them and threw them both on their backs. The ground continued to shake in rough, jerky shudders, making it impossible to stand. A horrible crackling sound erupted near the house. More debris rained down from what was left of the house, and most of the roof caved in. The woman beside Ahsoka screamed and attempted to race towards the house, but Ahsoka grabbed her and held onto her.

The woman struggled against Ahsoka’s hold. “Let me go!” She thrashed. “Let me save my daughter! Please !”

“Wait! Wait !” Ahsoka commanded and strengthened her grip on the woman.

A defeated sob tore its way from the woman’s throat, but she stilled. She shook in Ahsoka’s arms, and the Padawan didn’t know whether to keep holding onto her or not. But she wasn’t stuck in indecision for long because the aftershock quickly faded, dust stirring before finally settling, new ruins appearing out of the haze.

Ahsoka hesitated for several tense moments, but eventually said, “I’m going to see if they need help.”

“H-How can they need help if they’re dead?” she sobbed.

“They’re not dead,” Ahsoka reassured firmly before standing and walking over to the house.

At least, Anakin wasn’t dead. She would’ve felt it. She wasn’t sure about the daughter, but she forced herself not to dwell on that until she knew for sure.

The rubble covering the house was unstable. Smaller bits continued to rain down, falling into the house through dark holes and cracks. The house itself was littered with fractures and barely standing; it was slowly collapsing and would probably be nothing more than a pile of rubble by the end of the day. One wrong move, and the entire structure would crumble, crushing anyone inside.

It was a death trap.

“Master!” Ahsoka called. “Can you hear me?”

“—soka! Ahsoka!” He sounded from deep within the rubble. Impossibly far. As if he was somehow farther below the debris.

A basement. He’d found safety in a basement. Oh, please, let the girl be alive.

Ahsoka shouted, “Don’t move anything! It’s all about to collapse on you!”

“What! How are we supposed to get out then?”

We . The girl was still alive.

“I can do it.”

“What?” he shouted.

“I can do it! I can use the Force to move everything off of you!” she shouted back.

He replied, but it was too muffled for her to hear.

“What!” she called.

“Are you sure?” he yelled. “Do you need to get Obi-Wan?”

“No! There’s no time! The house will collapse before he gets here! I can do it!” she reassured.

There was a pause so long Ahsoka thought she might need to repeat herself.

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes! There might be another aftershock. I have to do this now. Just hold on, Master.”

She waited for his response, but she heard nothing.

She shouted at the crumbling building, “You have to trust me!” Her voice echoed across the rubble, causing the following silence to feel more desolate than before.

Ahsoka took a step back to assess the house and the way the debris had landed to best see which parts she needed to lift first.

Belatedly, Anakin replied, “Okay, Ahsoka! I’m trusting you with my life!”

It was his tone. He sounded more desperate than she was used to hearing. Her master never faltered in high-stakes situations like this. And he always trusted her.

Because it wasn’t about Ahsoka lifting the rocks. It was about Padmé. It was about Anakin’s marriage . He hadn’t really been given a choice in sharing it with her. She had stumbled upon it. But now he was trusting it to her. He was relying on her to keep his secret—to keep the most important thing in his life safe .

It was something he hadn’t given to anyone else. Of this, Ahsoka was absolutely certain.

“I’ll keep you both safe,” she promised in a whisper, unheard by anyone but herself.

---

It went smoothly after that. Moving the unstable debris off of the house proved to be an easier task than Ahsoka had first thought. Some of her training before she became a Padawan had been more difficult.

The daughter was saved, and the mother thanked Ahsoka profusely for her help, tightly embracing her with tear-stained cheeks. Strangely, it was the small moments like those that made Ahsoka actually feel as if they were making a positive difference. None of the battles she had ever fought felt as good as that small moment had.

The town came together and cooked for the clones and Jedi with their broken utensils and limited ovens as a way of saying thanks. It was oddly touching, having people who just lost everything provide for them.

Anakin and Ahsoka sat with their dinner shared on a blanket between them, the sun beginning to set, casting a golden glow. There weren’t enough chairs to go around, and the two of them didn’t mind sitting on the ground. It drew them closer, and Ahsoka caught Anakin staring at her with a warm grin on his face.

She thought she wouldn’t see it again. That they’d been ruined by what she had discovered.

Ahsoka smiled back. “So,” she said while popping a native fruit into her mouth, her confidence renewed by Anakin’s smile, “are you and Padmé officially… you know.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Married?” he finished for her.

Ahsoka nodded.

“You can’t tell anyone , Ahsoka.” After seeing her unimpressed expression, he added, “I mean it!”

Seriously, “I know.” An echo from earlier. She reached across and grabbed his hand.

He held hers back, his grip steadfast and firm. He smiled brightly at the ground, and said softly, happily , “Yeah, we’re official.”

She leaned forward. Because that was crazy ! It was against the rules big time for Jedi, and Padmé was a senator ! And the fact that the two of them had made it official meant there was documentation as proof !! If this ever got out, it would be the biggest scandal of the entire galaxy!

“Really!” she replied giddily, voice breathless. “When?” Her mind raced, trying to fill in gaps when this could have occurred. “Was it when I got sick for a week a few months ago?”

He was blushing as he shook his head. “No,” he said sheepishly. “It was…it was way before I met you.”

Ahsoka’s jaw dropped. “ What !! Wait, how long have you been married??”

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. He looked up, bright eyes catching hers. “If you want the full story, it started the day we met.”

#star wars #star wars fanfic #clone wars #clone wars fanfic #clone wars oneshot #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #padme amidala #oneshot #angst with a happy ending #anakin fanfiction #radpineapple

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daggerspared · 2 years

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i wrote this very quickly trying to get the writing juices flowing for another fic but pls enjoy

natasha is not a woman in the habit of feeling stupid. if she does, she’ll never admit it. it’s one of the symptoms of being who she is, where she is. she’s the phoenix, the one who goes down in a blaze of fire and then walks it off like it was all according to plan.

however, lying with her feet kicked up against the wall, answering the top twenty questions for team building, she will concede that at least a little bit of stupidity is present.

it was her new wso’s idea. robert “bob” floyd. from lemoore. who wears stephen king protagonist glasses, plays a mean game of pool, and has a belief in ice breaker games instilled by four years of high school band camp.

and maybe they’re both a little drunk.

“biggest fear?” he asks, voice still light with laughter from her answer to ‘childhood crush.’

she scoffs. “diving into the deep end, huh, floyd?”

“i mean, we’re supposed to be able to read each other’s minds,” he says, “and how am i supposed to trust you just based off the fact you like olives on pizza?”

he’s not as much of a wallflower as she thought. smiles with a frantic sort of energy, wipes his hands on his khakis compulsively, but has an answer for every comment and didn’t even falter as he explained extensively why teleportation is the best superpower to have.

he grows, if you give him the space.

she hums, mind working.

snakes is her go to answer. it’s acceptable enough that people don’t give her shit for it. real enough that no one tries to call crap. common enough that no one sees too deep into anything she doesn’t want to see.

“um, i don’t know,” she says, “pass.”

he rolls his head to face her. his glasses squish against his face and the floor. “that’s cheating.”

“you can’t cheat at a bonding game.” she turns to meet his eyes. they’re blue, darker than they looked underneath the bar lights. more like the ocean, less like the sky. “what about you then?” when he opens his mouth to respond, she cuts him off. “wait, no, let me guess... big parties? getting shoved into a locker?”

it’s a cheap shot, at his glasses and unassuming presence, and unfair of her given everything she’s learned about him in these last few hours. she feels a bit like jake for it, but bob seems to take it well enough, rolls his eyes and lets the corner of his mouth pop up.

“you’re not wrong about the parties. i don’t really do crowds. i like people, though. talking to them.” after a beat, he adds, “like this.”

“that why you were so nervous at the hard deck?”

his shoulders scrape the floor in a shrug. “everyone seems to know each other. i do kind of feel like i’m in high school again, trying to find somewhere to sit in the cafeteria.” he looks up at her, quirks his lips in what she’s starting to recognize as mischief on him. “hangman’s regina george, of course.”

that startles a laugh out of her, bright and bursting in her chest. the imagery of jake and javy in pink cardigans and mini skirts pops into her mind. she snorts.

bob gives his own amused exhale at her reaction.

"don’t be scared of hangman,” she says, after she’s calmed down. “his ego’s over the hard deck, but at least he can back it up. you learn to live with him.”

bob shakes his head. “i’m not scared of bagman.” she smiles at the nickname. “i’m pretty scared of you,” he admits.

usually that’d be satisfying to natasha—the wary way rooster eyes her when he’s done something stupid, how payback never bets against her in pool, fanboy taking extra care to get her coffee order right—natasha trace is a woman living in a man’s world, and she’s spent her entire career trying to make it her own.

but maybe she doesn’t want bob floyd, who is easy to overlook but whose grip was firm when he took the pool cue from her, to shy away from her like that.

don’t let me overlook you.

“don’t be,” she says.

phoenix is not a woman in the habit of being stupid. she’ll go down with her mistakes in a blaze of fire and then walk it off like it was all according to plan.

but there was that split second in the cockpit where she thought she was going to take bob down with her.

that was the mistake. that was not in the plan.

it’s maverick’s voice, finally getting through to her, you can’t save it, eject, eject.

it feels like admitting to something she hates.

“phoenix,” a soft voice interrupts her thoughts.

instinctively, she turns, despite the room being so dark that she can’t make out anything besides a vague, blurry outline on the bed next to her.

bob speaks again, “phoenix. are you okay?”

“yeah,” she says, voice steady. “are you?”

“a little banged up and i can’t seem to sleep.” she can hear his smile. “but i’d almost say i’m too good to be true.”

she exhales through her nose. “after that ejection, us being alive is too good to be true.”

“yeah, that was scary—”

“i wasn’t scared,” she says, sharp. more compulsion than anything.

bob doesn’t say anything. he waits for her.

“i’m not— i’m not afraid of that.” she takes a steadying breath.

she thinks of phoenix, it’s on fire, don’t— she thinks of phoenix! bob! punch out! punch out! she thinks of we’re going down, phoenix! but most of all, she thinks of bob, there in her backseat, until she finally called it, eject eject eject, just a hair short of tell it to his family.

“i am a little afraid of you.”

“what? me?” she still can’t see his expression.

“yeah,” she says, “you.”

#bobnix #platonic or romantic really #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick #blu posts #my writing

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paragonrobits · 6 months

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random snippet i might consider as making a feature of an adventure time/SU crossover I've been thinking about expanding upon:

-----

Peridot squinted, delicately holding up a reader, or at least something that she said was for measuring levels of magic.

The human boy that acted like a dog and moved like a bear tilted his head, watching it solemnly. His head tilted to one side almost exactly like a dog, and again it struck Steven that his new friend moved in ways that reminded him of the Gems, too.

The boy, Finn, had a strangely reserved way of moving, alternating between sudden bursts of energy and careful, measured movements. The whole time he was watching everything around him, and it gave Steven the impression Finn was silently weighing things up and working out if they were threats or not. More than once he'd seen Finn warily sizing things up and Steven had realized in those moments that Finn was preparing to fight, no matter how seemingly harmless the situation really was.

He tensed up whenever they were around people; given how dense cities tended to be, Steven had found himself edging nearer to Finn just to make him feel more comfortable, and true enough Finn had slowly acclimatized to it. But it left Steven wondering: what had Finn lived through to make him so unfamiliar with the idea of lots of humans together in one place? It seemed strangely exotic to Finn, or at least Steven had interpreted it as such.

It was about as the strange nostalgia he noticed in Finn when the radio had played rock music from about a few decades ago, or how he had seem inexplicably on the verge of tears when he smelled bubblegum candy, or fixated on little bulldogs like he was waiting for them to recognize him.

"Just thinking about home," he had replied shortly, when Steven worked up the nerve to ask.

Secrets; the boy had lots and lots of them. Steven had been in his dreams once. It had left him with even more questions and nightmares and he wasn't sure he wanted to know more.

(Steven still dreamed of some... thing. A skeleton, patchy bits of flesh still clinging on, holding a single finger to its teeth and whispering for silence. And in its eye sockets, pools of blackness with a single green mote of light, staring at him from the other side of an unimaginable abyss. The end is already here, his dreams said, and he didn't know what it meant or why those little green lights left him shaking and sickly, or why looking at a mushroom later that day gave him an awful since of... not foreboding, exactly. But inevitability.)

"Odd," Peridot said, aloud. "That can't be right..."

Finn tilted his head. A few more stray hairs, so pale in color they were nearly white and strangely ghostly, flickered out from beneath the furry hood he wore. "What is?"

Peridot paused. Finn spoke clearly enough, but the common language of Steven's area was clearly not his first, or even second language, and people usually needed a moment to parse the fast, harsh barks he spoke in. "I'm reading a LOT of magic off you. Last I checked, humans don't have magic in them, so I don't know what's causing it."

"Let me see," said Pearl, sidling over. She and Finn shared a very brief glance. On Pearl's side, it was cordial wariness, and from Finn, there was an evident desire to duel her. "Hmm. I see. Okay, there's a lot of magical energy bound up into your body, which might explain a few things... hmm. There's a lot of it incorporated directly into your organic make-up, and from... your mind, I think?"

"Soul energy," Finn said.

Pearl considered this. "Hrm. Not dissimilar from the natural charge of magic Gems build up, but I've never heard of anything happening with a human."

(Inside, Finn thought of a blue comet, falling from the sky. The equal and opposite to a green comet, heralding death.)

Out loud, Finn just shrugged.

"Hrm," Pearl said again, frowning slightly and indicating she didn't entirely believe him. Finn shrugged again, giving a convincing performance that the inside of his skull was empty space. "Ah! A lot of it is coming from that thing you're carrying. I... oh. Peridot! Look at this, please!"

Peridot leaned over. "What is it? Oh. OH. Ohhh, that is... rather concerning, actually."

Steven peeked at the reader. It was currently outlining the weapon Finn carried, which was so intensely radiant with magical energies that the screen was having difficulty rendering it. "That's... not supposed to happen, is it?"

Peridot shook her head. "That thing is packing more magic than Gem weapons! Which are made FROM magic! What IS that thing?"

Finn awkwardly extended the weapon in question for inspection. "Please be careful with it," he said, more seriously than anyone there had ever seen him. It was an axe; a double-headed axe about the same size as an electric guitar. It was the most unusual weapon Steven had seen, and he wasn't sure it was entirely artificial, or had at least been made by human or Gem. It was strangely organic, made of a red substance not quite crystalline and not quite like dried blood, but some inbetween thing. Not plastic or metal nor stone, as if someone had taken a huge chunk of solidified blood and roughly carved it into shape. It shone like metal, and it was faintly pulsing like a heartbeat. It had apparently been modified to function as a guitar, too, with a complex arrangement of strings and some alterations to the head for sound design.

Finn refused to let it go. It beat, and he breathed it. It beat, and he breathed out.

(He felt the heartbeat of the Abadeer axe.

He closed his eyes.

He thought of teal eyes, dark hair reaching the ground; he thought of a monstrous smile hiding the kindest soul he'd ever known.)

Aloud he said, "I borrowed it, from one of my best friends in the world." His gaze turned imploring. "Please. Be careful with it."

Pearl moved as if to take it, and then she stopped. Her hand wavered, and then lowered itself.

Later, she told Steven; in that moment, she saw a shadow of the same loss she knew, and suddenly she had thought that taking it even for a short time would have been like abandoning a memory of Rose.

Both of them saw Finn breath out a sigh of relief, his apparently instinctive wariness completely dropping. He hugged it to himself, his gaze distant and fixed on a memory.

#adventure time #steven universe #crossover #finn mertens #marceline #steven demayo universe #pearl su #steven universe su #peridot su #fics #my writing

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brendathedoodler · 1 year

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The scene in the comic where Legend takes ahold of Twilight’s shadow crystal goes pretty different in the adventure swap au, especially considering it’s Legend’s shadow crystal in the first place.

~~~~~

To be quite frank, Warriors regret coming over here at all. Was this how Sky felt all the time? Confused, bewildered, and completely and utterly done with whatever new insanity decided to grace them?

“Why couldn’t you put some clothes on before shouting for me?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Proxi chimed something he didn’t quite catch from her place by his shoulder, though he was reasonably sure she was agreeing with him.

Resting just in front of him, submerged from the shoulders down in a small freshwater pond the group had been using to bathe, was Legend. He was pressed up against the edge, the water deep enough to thankfully prevent anyone from seeing him unclothed (though really, Warriors was fairly certain Legend was more concerned with anyone seeing his arm than he was with anyone seeing him naked).

Color had been steadily rising in the teen’s face ever since Warriors first showed up, and now his cheeks matched his pink hair.

“Shut up!”

Very eloquent, Warriors thought with no small amount of sarcasm.

“This is an emergency!” Legend shouted, waving his normal arm around for emphasis. All that accomplished was flinging a few lingering soap suds around.

Warriors hummed, entirely unconcerned with it. “And what sort of ‘emergency’ came from…” he trailed off. “This,” he added, gesturing vaguely to the situation Legend seemed to have found himself in.

All that earned him was a loud groan, which trailed off into those inhuman clicks that Legend was so fond of making.

“Look, okay, Loft turned into a bird-“

What.

“-the old man is currently trying to fight him-“

What.

“-and somebody stole my clothes!”

What.

Warriors stared at Legend for a few long seconds. Long enough for Proxi to burst into a fit of laughter at the entire situation.

Rather than chide her for it (he knew it would do absolutely nothing), he simply grabbed her and tucked her into the folds of his scarf (much to her displeasure).

“I’ll handle the bird thing,” Warriors said firmly. “Which way did they go?”

Legend pointed and gave a vague description of the direction they’d been heading, and Warriors was heading off before he’d even finished explaining. Already a thousand scenarios were running through his mind, though his most pressing concern handling Time’s infamous dislike of birds and ensuring he didn’t maim their transformed companion.

“Hey- wait! You’ll need the master sword!” Legend insisted as Wars left the clearing. That should be simple enough, seeing as the blade damn well never left Wild’s side.

Warriors began to run as Legend shouted something about getting him some clothes. He’d leave that particular problem to someone else.

~~~~~

It was well known that Time didn’t like birds. It was on the same level of infamy as Legend’s complete and utter hatred of carrots, though at least Time refrained from going on long tirades about the subject of his distain.

He was willing to set aside this perfectly reasonable bias for only a few things: his wife, his best friend, his siblings, and his kids.

It was that last one that had convinced him to stop his very reasonable attempts to fight what he’d assumed to be some sort of enemy. Granted, the kid in question wasn’t related to him by blood, but this adventure certainly made him feel like he’d become a father of eight overnight. Said kid had also run off, leaving him alone with the bird he’d just been trying to fight minutes before.

“I’m still not convinced,” he told the bird, earning an indignant squawk in reply.

It was an impressively large thing. Not nearly as massive as the Helmaroc King, but still large enough that Time was sure he could sit on the creature’s back and it could fly without issue. Unruly blue feathers stuck out in ways Time was certain they weren’t supposed to, and there were several bald spots and pin feathers sticking out to give it an even more disheveled appearance. If it weren’t for the very clearly intelligent behavior he’d witnessed from it and Wind’s insistence he stop, Time was certain he’d still be swinging his sword at it.

That didn’t mean he believed it when it tried to tell him it was Wild. The clawed name in the dirt was impressive, yes, and so was the only vaguely recognizable lettering from Wild’s era. He was willing to hear it out, but not entirely willing to just believe whatever it tried to tell him.

The bird hopped all over the spot of dirt it had clawed the single word in, stamping it down until it could write again. Time shifted where he sat on a particularly flat rock, waiting patiently for the bird’s uncoordinated claws to deliver its next message.

Footsteps nearby caught his attention immediately. Time stood quickly, hand flicking to the hilt of his sword as he scanned the treeline for any sign of who might be there.

A familiar Hylian emerged, and Time’s hand fell away from his weapon as soon as he processed the familiar dusty blue of Warriors’ scarf.

“Good to see you haven’t skewered Hylia’s chosen hero,” were the first words out of Warriors’ mouth, giving Time pause.

The bird chirped happily and hobbled over to the wastelander, stopping just short of making contact with him. It was Warriors who bridged the gap, placing a hand on the bird—on Wild’s—feathered head.

Before Time could think of anything adequate to say (was there really anything he could say in response to discovering he’d tried to fight his own teammate?), Warriors continued.

“Crypt explained. Sort of, he at least explained that Loft got turned into a bird,” he said, glancing over at Time. “Surprised you aren’t still trying to fight him.”

“You can thank Addie for that,” was all Time had to say on the matter. His and Wind’s views on birds tended to clash from time to time, though it was usually played up as a joke between the two. Not today, apparently, as Time was fairly certain he’d have an impressive bruise on his shin after the young veteran had taken his attack on the bird personally.

Time was certainly thankful for it now. He’d have to get him something to show for it—once he made it up to Wild for this whole incident.

“I would hope Cryptid knows how to fix this,” Time commented.

“All I heard was something about the master sword,” Warriors answered. “I’m guessing you don’t have it on you?” he directed at Wild, who simply shook his head in response.

Time raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t come with you?” he asked. Legend generally preferred to know exactly what was going on at any given time; leaving this situation to play out without any sort of intervention was out of character for him.

“He was bathing,” Warriors answered. “Apparently something took his clothes.”

Wild let out a huff that might’ve been some sort of laugh, while Time just hummed in reply. “In that case, we better find that master sword.”

Warriors barked out a laugh, all too willing to leave their pink haired companion to his own troubles. “Cloud should still be at camp. He should have his own master sword at the very least, if not both of yours,” he said, and Wild only let out a chirp of agreement as the trio set out.

~~~~~

Part of Twilight’s daily tasks involved organizing his bag, something that wouldn’t be necessary if it weren’t for a particular meddling minish always shoving random crap in there as and when she pleased.

He glanced over to the fire pit in the center of camp, where said minish woman warmed her tiny paws. It didn’t fool Twilight in the slightest. Small as they may be, those paws were capable of causing immense mischief. He’d seen it firsthand, even helped on some occasions.

His eyes trailed away from Midna to the others of the group. Only Sky and Four remained at camp, the others having gone out to do who knows what. As worrying as it was, none of them had been gone for long, and most of them had gone with at least one person. So far it was Hyrule he was most concerned for. He already had plans to sneak away in wolf form and herd him back to the group, probably with anyone else he found on the way.

He’d save that for after he finished organizing his bag. He turned to it, pulling out small bottles of random herbs and plants he didn’t recognize. Four and Sky’s conversation about woodcarving and blacksmithing made for a nice background noise as he sorted the random items Midna had acquired over the course of the day.

Herbs, mushrooms, a few stray rupees, several seashells, a few neat rocks, all normal things Midna tended to snatch. The next thing he pulled out was neither normal nor pleasant. It was, in fact, a dirty sock.

Twilight made a face as he pulled it out, setting it aside. He took a deep breath (through his mouth, since the sock’s smell was none too pleasant) and prepared himself for whatever other nonsense Midna had shoved into his bag. There was absolutely no way she’d just pick up some random sock. There had to be more.

He was unfortunately right. The next thing he pulled out was a rather familiar red tunic. It took him a moment to place it, but as soon as he connected the dots his head swiveled over to where Midna sat by the fire. She grinned over at him with a sort of glee that told him all he needed to know.

Twilight’s eyes flicked over to his two companions, and once he was sure they weren’t paying attention to him, he narrowed his eyes at Midna. Chiding her for messing with people was much harder with his teammates around, but his glare said everything he couldn’t speak aloud. Her grin just widened in response.

Fine. If she wasn’t going to help, he’d just bring the clothes back to Legend himself. He set them aside, folding each article of clothing in a small stack. Just as he opened his mouth to ask the other two where the hero in question was, a few of his teammates entered the clearing.

Alongside them was a massive, ugly bird. That certainly gave him pause, and it caught the attention of Sky and Four.

“Um… Is this Wolfie 2?” Sky asked, a bit unsure of what exactly was going on. Twilight almost felt offended by the comparison.

Warriors just chuckled in response. “It’s Loft, actually. I don’t know how it happened, but Cryptid said the master sword would help.”

Sky’s first instinct was to reach for the blade strapped to his back, though he paused and instead reached for the sword resting just beside him. Wild’s own master sword was usually placed in Sky’s trust if he, for whatever reason, didn’t have it on his person.

Sky offered the hilt of the blade to Wild, who took it awkwardly in his beak. With a flash of light that Twilight had to shield his eyes from, the huge scruffy bird shifted into the chosen hero they’d all come to know.

Wild’s hair was a horrific mess. Strands clumped together as though trying to emulate feathers, and the colorful ribbons framing his face were hardly visible in the sorry excuse for a braid they were tied in. Twilight had to suppress a wince at the idea of taking his usual ponytail down. It resembled a rat’s nest more than it resembled hair, and Twilight was already reaching for his bag to find the detangler he kept in there for his horse. It worked great on Epona, so he was sure it would work well on Wild’s magically-induced mess of tangles.

“Hey, Soul.”

The sound of his nickname made him perk up, and he glanced over at Wild. “Yes?”

“Are those Cryptid’s clothes?” he asked, glancing down at the folded garments in Twilight’s lap. There was something in Wild’s tone that made him narrow his eyes.

“…Yes?” he answered, trying to figure out what exactly Wild was getting at.

Warriors laughed aloud at his response. “I can’t believe it! Soul was the one who stole the fish boy’s clothes!”

Twilight froze in place, eyes going wide as they focused on the minish currently laughing at his misfortune. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Midna had set it all up on purpose.

Legend would never let him hear the end of it.

~~~~~

“What do you mean you don’t have a song for that!?”

Hyrule sputtered. “That’s a pretty specific request!” he defended, trying to convince himself that not having a specific song that could turn a bird into a Hylian wasn’t weird. It would probably be weirder if he did have one!

Wind seemed incredibly displeased with it. “But you have a song for everything!” he insisted. “You had a song specifically for flower allergies! Flowergies!”

Now probably wasn’t the best time to try and convince Wind that ‘flowergies’ was not a real word. “You have magical items for everything, why don’t you have an item to turn him back?” came Hyrule’s retort.

Wind was about to continue voicing his disagreement, paused, and then finally muttered, “touché.”

Hyrule wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he assumed it meant he’d won this argument. “Maybe it’s some sort of mask?” he suggested, beginning to head back in the direction of camp. “If it’s a mask that turned him into a bird, I’m certain I can fix it.”

“Oh so you have a song that’ll stop a transformation mask from transforming people, but not a song that’ll fix Loft from being a bird?” Wind asked, still seeming to take it personally that Hyrule didn’t have a song for every possible situation. “Why do you even have a song like that?”

Hyrule sighed. “It was relevant on my adventure.”

Wind’s face scrunched up as it so often did when he got an answer he didn’t like. His expression shifted quickly to one of realization. “Hey, wait, if you used transformation masks, is that why your eyes are so-“

“We’re here!” Hyrule announced, jogging over to camp. Knowing a deflection when he saw one, Wind decided not to press him for any details.

He grinned as he saw Wild in his normal Hylian form. “Hey! You’re not a bird anymore!” he said, a grin coming to his face.

“Nope, you can thank Fi for that,” Wild replied, gently patting the sheath of his beloved master sword.

“What exactly happened?” Hyrule asked, sitting down next to Time and Sky.

Wild grinned and eagerly launched into a chaotic tale of the evening’s events, starting from when he’d picked up Legend’s strange shadowy pendant, to Time trying to fight him, then to the discovery that Twilight had apparently yoinked Legend’s clothes while he was bathing.

Wind laughed along with Wild’s storytelling, and when Twilight himself walked back into camp soaking wet from head to toe, he laughed twice as hard.

#linked universe #lu adventure swap au #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wild #lu time #lu twilight #lu wind #lu midna #brenda’s writing

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judasofsuburbia · 1 year

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a lil excerpt from a wip i'll be posting here in the next few days!!

March 30th, 1986

When Steve arrives in this dream, he’s almost certain it’s a nightmare. He’s in the Upside Down a couple of feet away from where Eddie Munson took his last breath. Only, he’s not there.

Steve hears soft guitar strums and mumbling. He turns his head to see Eddie sitting on a nearby park bench with his guitar. He looks gruff and dirty like they left him but he’s not bloody anymore. He’s completely mobile too as he bounces his head and moves his deft fingers up and down the neck of his sweetheart.

He keeps strumming the wrong chord and cursing to himself before starting the verse over. Steve is trying to wake himself up before he sees Eddie with his eyes sucked out or his limbs snapped like twigs. Or something worse entirely, because Vecna is really good at making any horrors a reality.

Eddie looks up and smiles widely. “Harrington! What are you doing here?”

Steve can feel the tears before he registers what’s happening. Just hearing his voice washes him with a wave of guilt. He looks up at the dark blue, foggy sky and prays for the nightmare to hurry up already because he needs to go. Like now.

“Are you crying? What’s got you so blue?” Eddie asks with a soft tone. He pats the spot next to him on the grubby bench. “Wanna tell Dr. Munson?”

Steve swallows his underlying fear and walks across the veiny ground, no longer worried about waking anyone up. He sits next to Eddie who is looking at him so friendly and so silly and god, it fucking hurts. It’s so fucking mean for Vecna to do this to him.

“Woman troubles, perhaps?” Eddie asks in a faux professional tone. He holds out his hands like he’s writing down in a notebook.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs.

“Oof, that sounds worse than woman troubles. What kind of demons does Harrington battle on a day-to-day basis?” Eddie places his guitar on his lap and gives Steve his full attention.

“Besides the regular ones?” Steve jokes with a humorless tone.

“Besides those, yeah,” Eddie smiles. God, why is he so smiley?

“You’re dead, dude,” Steve states. “It fucking sucks.”

Eddie tilts his head and his smile fades. “I’m dead?”

Okay, so the nightmare is explaining Eddie’s death to him. Well damn, Vecna, that’s pretty fucking creative. Your nightmare writer’s room knows exactly what they’re doing. Steve closes his eyes and swallows the dusty air. It burns his throat but not as much as his next words are going to.

“Uh, yeah. The demo bats got you. Worse than they got me. A whole swarm of them. You distracted them from going after us. Pulled your little cutesy hero stunt and inadvertently saved us all.”

Eddie huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, that can't be me. I’m no hero, Harrington.”

“Oh, but you are. Even after you promised me you wouldn’t be. Kept Dustin safe, kept him alive, but shit dude, he still found you. Held you until your last words.”

Eddie shoves his shoulder. “Hey, man, that’s not funny.”

“No, the fuck it’s not,” Steve snaps. Eddie flinches and Steve slumps back into the seat. “Found Dustin that way. He clung to you and he screamed at me to carry you out of here even though you were absolutely 100% gone. I don’t know if that little shrimp will ever forgive me. The only thing that made him move was the fact that Max got hurt.”

“Max got hurt?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve nods. “She’s in a coma now. Vecna got her with the limbs and almost the eyes. They don’t know when or if she will wake up.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve flashes him a look. “Are you apologizing for dying right now? Are you really doing that?”

Eddie lets out a frustrated laugh. “What else am I supposed to say?”

Steve exhales and picks at his nails. “I don’t know.”

They sit in wallowing silence for a few moments. The Upside Down is eerily quiet now. Maybe this is how it is when there are no intruders. No one to snap in half. No one to possess. Steve hates that it’s almost peaceful. If only there will sunlight and no particles floating in the air. The veiny surfaces are also a little unnerving. Someone should hire a decorator or something.

“A decorator,” Eddie giggles. “That’s a good one, Harrington.”

Steve stammers. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

Eddie shrugs. “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, y’know?”

Steve takes the time to wipe the appropriate tears before gesturing to Eddie’s guitar. “What were you working on before I got here?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” Eddie admits with a helpless look at his guitar. “Some song that keeps playing really softly in the distance.”

“Play it for me?” Steve requests with a kind smile.

Eddie picks his guitar back up and plucks out the first few notes. It sounds familiar. Sounds…festive?

“That’s all I can figure out,” Eddie says.

“Do it again?”

“Are you sure this is a real song?” Eddie jokes.

“I think so. Try it again.”

Eddie does. The same rhythm. Steve hums along. He motions with his hands for Eddie to play it again.

“I’ll have a blue Christmas, without you. I’ll be so blue just thinkin’ about you.” Steve sings quietly. He gasps and points excitedly at the guitar. “It’s Elvis Presley! It’s Blue Christmas!”

Eddie plays it one more time and his face brightens up despite the hellish environment they’re existing in. Steve reckons Eddie’s the brightest thing down here right now. “You’re telling me I’m strumming a Christmas song in March?

“Maybe Vecna’s a real Elvis girl,” Steve says while Eddie groans.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get struck down for that.”

“I mean no offense,” Steve raises his hands and talks up to the sky. “Elvis is a pretty cool guy. Just…you know he has other songs, right?”

“You’re a little early, Vecna, my guy,” Eddie shouts in the same direction. No lightning or a league of shadows and bats swarm them while they’re giggling to themselves.

“One of the better Christmas songs, I’d argue,” Steve says.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Why? It’s sad as hell.”

“No, no. It’s romantic. It’s about long-lost love. Wanting to hold the one you love during Christmas.”

“But not getting to. Hence why it’s a blue Christmas.”

Steve considers this but makes a disagreeing noise. “Still romantic. Hopeless but romantic.”

Eddie nudges Steve’s shoulder with his own. “You’re a sweet guy, huh?”

“I don’t know. The jury’s still out I think, considering this is where karma has led me.”

Eddie looks around and shakes his head. Drums his fingers on the body of his guitar.

Steve doesn’t want to ask this. He knows, okay he knows, this is just a dream (or an upcoming nightmare). Something that’s made to feel real but isn’t. Still, he asks, “Are you actually alive?”

Eddie glances up at him. His big, brown eyes are shimmering with naive, joyful hope. “You tell me, big boy.”

#emily writes #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fics

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 1 year

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Begged & Borrowed Time (vi, ao3)

(Chapter six: After dinner with the Inner Circle, Cassian goes to Rita's with Mor and Azriel, and spends the entire time thinking of Nesta. (Alternate of that chapter in ACOMAF, where Feyre first goes out with the IC and afterwards, Rhys walks her home). (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

Cassian watched as Rhys turned back and headed for home.

Watched, as his brother turned for Feyre, his violet eyes searching, searching— and finding, as her steps halted on pavements worn smooth with time. She paused, glancing up the steeply sloping street as Cassian climbed the incline, with Mor and Azriel at his side.

Mor wanted to dance, and Cassian…

Cassian wanted to forget. So he’d nodded, fallen into step with Mor and Az, and let his aching feet carry him up the carved stone steps.

There was alchemy in the air, he’d swear. He could taste it. Feel it. It was the Cursebreaker’s first night out in Velaris proper, and even after the morning spent below the wall, even after the Attor’s attack and the Hewn City… Feyre had smiled. Cassian had watched as Rhys was struck dumb, as his violet eyes had widened with something like awe, something like devotion, as Feyre sat in that restaurant and… smiled.

She lifted one hand in farewell now, the tattoos that Rhys had woven into her skin stark in the silvered light. Her fingers curled into the night air as the dusky blue sky above began to melt into darkness. Cassian waved, too. A goodbye conveyed across the distance, a see you later in each of their upraised palms.

He couldn’t help but wonder why her sister hadn’t afforded him the same.

On those white stone steps mounting the incline of the street, Mor had paused too, her hand still in the air, still bidding good night to their High Lord and the woman who just might turn out to be his everything.

“Rita’s, then?” she asked, her smile dazzling. Her golden hair was alight beneath the stars, and as they reached the top of the steep hill, Azriel nodded his agreement, stretching his wings in the breeze.

Like a breath before a storm, Cassian tried to let the calm wash over him. The night air was cool, chilled as he breathed it in, tasting the salt on the air carried over the Sidra from the sea beyond. The pavement beneath his boots was smooth, a polish acquired through centuries of footsteps, tracks worn into stone— tracks his own feet had helped carve on all those nights he’d walked up these steps, walked these streets. Home— he was home.

So why did it feel like something was missing?

He cast another glance back at Rhys. They were all home, after so long spent separated, so many decades apart. Drifting up from the streets below, a busker somewhere was playing as night descended, the music sweet and soothing. Yet there was a kind of emptiness gnawing at his edges, a kernel of space inside him that he’d never noticed before.

He didn’t look ahead, to the road that would lead them to Rita’s. He looked back, back at Rhys and Feyre at the bottom of the sloping hill, their backs turned as, together, they made for home.

Faelights the colour of living flame burned in tall lampposts, turning the white stone beneath his feet golden, and the lights of the city played in the reflection on the river, glistening and shifting beneath the moon. But Cassian couldn’t find the beauty in Velaris that night, too transfixed was he on the sight of Feyre, on the moonlight casting her in a glow so ethereal it was hard to believe she hadn’t been born fae. And her hair— in the fading light, it was so similar to her sisters’.

He couldn’t explain - or perhaps just didn’t want to explain - why, as he looked at the silver light brushing Feyre’s skin… Mother help him, he wondered what Nesta would look like beneath a Velarian sky.

Would she glow, like Feyre? Or dazzle, like Mor?

Would she be something else entirely, something enchanting and bewitching, something guaranteed to bring him to his knees?

Would she like Rita’s? Or would she choose one of the fancy wine bars on the other side of the Sidra instead? If she had the chance, if she were here, in his city… Where would she go? Who would she be?

He thought of her on that lonely little road away from the village, the rain falling and settling on her braids, clinging like diamonds to her eyelashes. Thought of the fire in her eyes, the determination and stubbornness. He ought to forget all of it, but… If she were here, would she smile, like Feyre had smiled?

Still standing on those steps, watching his brother lead the youngest Archeron home - as though, already, Rhys wouldn’t go where she wouldn’t follow - Cassian cursed that pulling in his chest.

Gods— why did it even matter? Why was she the only thing he thought of, even as he walked the streets of his home— why was she the one he looked for?

“Cass?” Azriel said, nudging him in the shoulder. “You coming?”

“Yeah— Yeah.” Cassian shook himself, cleared his head with a sharp inhale of crisp night air. That tugging in his chest was pulling south now, a compass with a broken needle. South, south, south. His blood was urging him to go there instead, not to Rita’s. But Azriel was clapping Cassian on the shoulder, and Mor was practically bouncing on the smooth-stoned street, and there was nothing he could do but ignore that yearning in his blood, and follow as Mor led them through the gathering dark.

***

Cassian scowled darkly at the glass sitting before him.

So vibrantly pink it was nauseating, the drink Mor pushed towards him had a rim dusted with sugar, in a glass so dainty it looked like it would break beneath his fingers. Her crimson lips parted in a wicked, mischievous grin as she set it down with a flourish, and as Cassian traced the edge of the tiny pink umbrella perching delicately against the rim, he looked up at her and blinked.

“What is that.”

She slid into the booth beside him, her smile turning positively feline. On the other side of the rounded table, Azriel slipped in too, bearing two short glasses of amber liquid.

“I said I’d get you a drink if you’d mind the table,” Mor said, faux innocence dancing in her eyes under pink-and-blue faelights. She pushed the glass further towards him with the tip of a red-painted nail. “So,” she lifted a matching drink of her own, the pink inside turning neon under the lights. “Cheers!”

“I thought you meant a real drink,” Cassian muttered with a frown, watching the drink shimmer. There was glitter in there— swirling and shifting silver glimmering in the pink. His eyebrows knitted together, wondering how Mor could even stand to drink this thing, this little glass of sugar and ostentation. Beside him, Azriel sniggered. He didn’t have some ridiculously frilly cocktail, Cassian noted bitterly. No— Azriel had two glasses of what looked like the whiskey from the top shelf. Expensive and smooth and strong—

Mor nudged the glass further towards him with a pointed look. That smirk still pulled at the edges of her painted lips, and Cassian’s scowl deepened. He wanted to drink. The day had been so agonisingly long that part of him wanted only for his bed, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Not when he could think only of a certain mortal, of the way she had argued with him, called him a sparrow, and reached for his blade. He needed something to take the edge off, to wash away those lingering thoughts and help him forget the way he’d frozen on those steps outside, watching Feyre walk away. He needed to forget how Nesta had walked away, turned her back on him and left him standing alone on that little road in the middle of nowhere.

He didn’t think Mor’s pretty little cocktail was anywhere near strong enough for that.

But her grin was taunting, challenging, and so Cassian lifted the glass, the light from his siphon refracting through the stem and bouncing off of her shining curls, the gloss on her lips. Already, he could smell the sugar. Could taste it before he even opened his mouth, and as he wrinkled his nose, Mor laughed again. Laughed louder. With a soft snarl and a glare that said he wasn’t ever one to be outdone, Cassian tipped the glass towards her in a silent toast and knocked it back, downing it all in one.

It was nothing but sweetness and sugared berries, obnoxious in his mouth as the sugar from the rim stuck to his tongue. Not enough— it wasn’t enough to drag his mind away from the realm beneath the wall, from everything that had happened that morning. He grimaced and shook his head, for all the world looking like he was just trying to banish the taste of that too-sweet mixture of syrup and alcohol and sugar… But in truth, he was just trying to find some way of forgetting her, of ignoring that pull in his chest that made him long to speak her name.

Sitting at the curving edge of the round table, Azriel slid him one of those glasses of whiskey. With one last shake of his head, Cassian pushed away the empty cocktail glass and took the liquor with a relieved and grateful sigh.

Lifting it to his lips, he wanted it to swallow him whole— the music, the darkness, the sharp, biting taste of the whiskey. He let it clear his head, just for a minute. Let the burning in his throat be the only thing he thought of.

Az lifted his own glass and drank deeply. He was leaving at dawn for the mortal lands, for the queens on the continent, to try and glean any information he could about their half of the Book, but instead of going home to rest, Az had chosen to come out, too. Cassian wondered what he was trying to forget— whether the torture he’d enacted at the Hewn City that morning lay heavy on his shoulders.

The shadowsinger let out a breath as the whiskey settled in him, as it burned a path from his tongue to his stomach.

“Should you be drinking the night before a mission?” Mor asked, nodding at the glass Azriel set back down on the table. She swirled the umbrella in her own drink, sipping delicately at the sugared rim. Cassian practically winced as he watched her drink, the taste resurfacing on his own tongue. He clutched his whiskey a little tighter, held it a little more dearly.

Az raised an eyebrow, and lifted his glass to take another drink, just to prove a point. “I think I can handle it,” he said dryly.

Mor only shrugged, and leaned her head against the high leather back of their usual booth. Her cheeks were flushed, and under the glimmering lights, her smile was stunning. Once, Cassian had thought her the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Right from the moment he’d met her, sitting at the kitchen table in Rhys’ mother’s Windhaven house, he’d been besotted. He’d been nothing but a boy— a foolish youth, daring to think he knew what love was. What it felt like. He looked at her now, her beautiful face limned by the pulsing lights, and felt none of that lust. None of that desire that had ridden him so hard all those years ago. It had burned out centuries ago, leaving behind nothing but familial affection. She was his sister, as much as Rhys and Az were his brothers. Nothing less— and nothing more.

He didn’t know why but it felt important, somehow, to remind himself of that now. To remember that Mor hadn’t been the one for him, no matter how convinced of it he’d been at seventeen.

Clearing his throat, Azriel leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table.

“So,” he began casually, but Cassian could tell by the look on his brother’s face that this wasn’t casual at all. His shadows were lurking, and looking at that too-innocent, curving smile on Azriel’s lips… Cassian knew this was an interrogation of some kind. That Az had picked up on something, and he wouldn’t rest until he had it unravelled. “What happened with the letter?"

“You know what happened with the letter,” Cassian shrugged. “I told you.”

He’d told all of them. When he returned to Velaris, they’d gathered in the town house sitting room and gone through all of it. Rhys had recounted what he’d learned at the Hewn City, and Cassian had nodded and said that Nesta had posted the letter, that he’d watched her hand it over and pay for its passage with his own eyes. Mor hummed now, sipping idly at her cocktail.

Azriel darted a hand across the small distance between them, pulling Cassian’s whiskey back and holding it ransom. “You came back looking like you’d had a punch to the gut,” he said, placing a palm flat over the top of Cassian’s glass and drumming his fingers on the side. A perfect picture of mild curiosity— but his eyes were sharp, and his shadows were gathered at his elbows, and Cassian thought only of the way Az had looked at him in the Hewn City, the curiosity that had flashed across his face when the Attor had mentioned Nesta and Cassian had lost his temper. “Is Nesta that bad?”

“It was fine,” Cassian insisted, snatching the glass back from beneath Azriel’s scarred, siphon-topped hand. The amber liquid licked the sides of the glass, brushing the rim and almost spilling over. Azriel raised a brow, and Cassian took a sip, needing to feel that burn, that distracting, diverting burn. Doubt shone in the spymaster’s eyes, and Cassian scowled again because he didn’t have words anyway.

How did he begin to articulate it— that no, Nesta wasn’t that bad. That she was something else entirely— that she stunned him, and infatuated him, and incited him, and enticed him, all in equal measure. His irritation and his frustration had walked hand in hand today with something much more interesting, something that made every part of him sit up and want to… play.

On his other side, Mor had gone still. Her fingers wrapped tight around her ridiculously pink cocktail, her eyes narrowed. Through pursed lips she took a sip, those eyes flicking to him as though she heard all of those things he didn’t say. Her gift was truth— and Cassian wondered if she knew anyway, if she’d sensed the confusion, the contradiction, boiling his blood.

Beneath the pounding music Cassian sighed, and didn’t meet her eye as his gaze shifted to the empty space at the table. A void filled with meaning— any other night, Rhys would have been sitting in this booth with them, in that empty space. Before Amarantha, before the mountain… He’d have been drinking one of Mor’s ridiculous cocktails too, making eyes at any pretty girl that happened to look his way. Since returning, Rhys had accompanied them only a few times to the club, and each time, it was as though he was trying to forget something. Trying to find distraction at the bottom of his cups. Cassian knew what that felt like now, as he looked at his whiskey and needed the burn to erase the memory of storm-grey eyes and elegant fingers wrapped around his dagger.

He looked at that empty space, the one Rhys had left vacant in favour of walking Feyre home. A soft smiled pulled at his lips, a gentle warmth filling his chest.

He’d been a romantic, once.

Back when he’d thought himself in love with Mor, long before his soul had been bruised by war and grief and loss. Now, when he looked at that empty seat… Gods, he wanted Rhys to be happy.

“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked, nodding to the space between Azriel and Mor and changing the subject, steering them firmly away from him and Nesta.

“About what?” Az asked slowly.

“Rhys,” Cassian said with another nod at that gap. “How about a wager— how long will it be before he admits he’s head over heels for Feyre?”

Mor set her glass down on the table, so decidedly she set the little umbrella bobbing. “Leave it alone, Cass,” she said, giving him a flat look, one of warning. He wondered what she knew— what that gift of truth had told her. Whether it had told her anything.

“What?” Cassian asked, throwing up his palms in surrender. “It’s not like he’s subtle.”

His brother was about as subtle as a brick. Putting Feyre in crowns and jewels, risking civil war to save her from Tamlin… honestly, it was a wonder Feyre hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mor said softly, shaking her head. “Just let it be.” With a sigh, she drained her cocktail, the glitter lingering, sticking to the sides of the glass. She shook her head again, golden tresses bouncing as she got to her feet and slipped out of the booth. “I’m going to dance.”

She didn’t wait for either of them to join her, and Cassian watched her go, watched her slip through the crowd easily, her steps sure and even as she made her way to the dance floor. Oh, she knew something alright, and it wasn’t hard to guess what. After all, it had been Mor that Rhys had found first upon returning from the mountain, Mor that he sent to get Feyre from Spring that day.

“They’re mates, aren’t they?” Cassian said to Azriel, dragging a finger around the rim of his whiskey glass, hearing it whistle beneath his touch. “Rhys and Feyre.”

Az looked flatly at the dance floor, at Mor’s golden hair shining in the dim. Ruefully, he shook his head. “You and I both know there’s no way of telling yet.”

Cassian snorted. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Azriel shook his head and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the edge of the table. His gaze was inscrutable, unshakable, and Cassian knew that whatever effort he’d made to change the subject… it hadn’t worked. No, as Azriel’s shadows danced along the edge of the table, Cassian knew Az hadn’t bought it.

The shadowsinger tilted his head curiously, a mirror of how he’d looked at Cassian in the bowels of the Hewn City earlier. When he’d damn near turned feral because the Attor had spoken Nesta’s name.

A wisp of shadow danced along the spymaster’s shoulder as he said, in a voice so soft it could have been a whisper, “What did happen this morning, when the rest of us were in the forest?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cassian answered with a shrug, fighting for nonchalance, for composure even as his tongue lurched to betray him. As his heart did too, its beat ratcheting, getting faster as her name balanced on the edge of his tongue, begging, begging to be said aloud.

“You and Nesta were at each other’s throats, and yet after the Attor attacked-”

“Nothing happened,” Cassian cut in, keeping his voice even. Casual. The lie burned within him, because a far cry from nothing had happened in that room but… Cassian wouldn’t say it. Didn’t dare mention how Nesta had let that mask of cruel indifference drop, how her eyes had turned frantic, pained as she spat at him and told him truths even her sisters weren’t aware of.

Az hummed, the low sound barely even audible over the loud music. He sipped at his whiskey - almost drained now - and Cassian did the same, just to have something to do with his hands. Just to keep his mouth occupied. He almost laughed— a five hundred year old warrior, sitting in a nightclub, cradling a glass of whiskey because out of all the things he’d faced in his long life… Nesta was the one thing he didn’t know how to handle.

“I’ve never known anybody get under your skin like that,” Az continued blandly, knowing that he was pushing, prodding, as if determined to make Cassian bleed. “Not so quickly. And so effortlessly, too.” He shrugged. “You almost have to admire it.”

Cassian snorted. Oh, he admired it alright. Admired it and hated it and longed for it. A walking contradiction.

“And then, of course, there was what happened with the Attor,” Az said softly, so damned casually he might have been talking about the weather. Cassian felt the jaws of some invisible trap snap shut around him as his breath stilled, halted. His eyes flicked to the shadows at Azriel’s neck, but his brother only smirked, leaning back in his seat with triumph in his eyes— as whatever look that had just flitted across Cassian’s face had just confirmed something, had been some kind of answer. Cassian hadn't even said a word and yet… Azriel knew. Somehow, the bastard knew that something else had happened today.

That’s what happens, Cassian supposed, when you know someone for five centuries. Just as he could see it written all over Rhys’ face every time he looked at Feyre… Az could see something else written on his own.

And Cauldron boil him alive, he didn’t even know why he’d reacted the way he did when the Attor had rasped her name in the confines of the Hewn City. He’d been telling himself all day that it was just because Nesta was an innocent, but deep down - far further than he wanted to delve - he knew it was more than that. The creature had mentioned Elain too, and though Cassian had been angry, he hadn’t been murderous. Only when it uttered Nesta’s name had his anger honed itself into something far more vicious. Far more dangerous.

Cassian swore under his breath. He was on a knife edge, caught between logic and whatever it was that whispered in his blood. He should think her selfish and cold— even despite the truth of her marriage, she’d still let Feyre hunt in those woods, hadn’t she? She was cruel and haughty, and even though she had asked for his name, she hadn’t bothered to say goodbye.

She hadn’t said goodbye.

And it bothered him. Needled at him more than he’d care to admit.

He didn’t want to think about how his blood had suddenly started to sing today. How his heart seemed to be beating faster. How, for the first time in his life, he’d been left speechless. Didn’t want to think about what it meant. A knife edge… Balanced, precariously, and he couldn’t tell which way he was going to fall.

He huffed and looked away, at the crowd of bodies dancing under the glimmering lights.

“Rhys wants me to take another letter in a few days,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Because it had been riding him hard, and when Cassian had returned from below the wall, Rhys had looked almost apologetic as he’d asked if Cassian would deliver the next piece of correspondence too. Cassian had sighed and made a damn good show of being inconvenienced… but Mother help him, he’d been glad. He wanted to see her again, even though every ounce of logic, every kernel of common sense, told him it was madness. Unrelenting madness.

Another smirk cut across Azriel’s handsome face. “Try not to get at her throat this time,” he said dryly, an eyebrow raising suggestively. “In any sense.”

Cassian groaned. Swore again, and punched his brother in the arm. He tried to ignore how the double entendre of being at her throat had his pulse hammering. The pulling in his chest kicked like a second heartbeat, and he ignored it as Azriel rested an arm casually over the back of the booth. He smirked again, and though Cassian refused to break… Fucking hell, he was bending.

“Really, Cass,” Azriel said more seriously, leaning forwards again. “What happened this morning?”

A bitter sigh broke from his lips as Cassian tipped his head back, looking up at the strings of coloured faelighs above.

“I don’t know,” he said after a long moment, his voice low as he drained his whiskey to the last drop. “She said some things that made me… reconsider my first impression of her.” He swallowed against the burn on his tongue, thinking back to her in that morning room, standing wide-eyed and ready to damn the world to hell to defend Elain. With another muttered curse, he pushed his empty glass away, wishing he’d left a little more to steel him for this conversation. “I don’t think we…” He trailed off. No, he thought. Not we. “I don’t think I realised how different her side of the story would be.”

“No,” Az said slowly, contemplatively. He didn’t pry, or ask for the other side of that story, as if he knew that it was only Nesta’s to tell. Only hers to give. Cassian exhaled heavily, thinking back to how he’d spat at her across the dinner table. How he’d blamed her for every hurt Feyre had endured and forgotten to consider that she’d been hurt, too.

A fool. He’d been a damned fool.

“She’s stubborn,” Cassian continued after a moment. “Stubborn and proud, with a spine of fucking steel.” He laughed to himself, the sound low and rueful as he shook his head in something like disbelief. “She grabbed my dagger on the walk into the village.”

“She grabbed your dagger?” Az repeated.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, feeling his fingers snag on the knots that had gathered. He nodded. “A mortal, with no training whatsoever, on a lonely little path below the wall, caught me completely off guard.”

“You’re losing your touch,” Az said dryly.

He tried the same thing, a scarred hand darting out in a manoeuvre far more practised, far smoother, than Nesta’s had been. He reached for the weapon still sheathed at Cassian’s thigh, but the general smacked his hand away before it even got close. Only Nesta, it seemed, could catch him so off guard. Only Nesta could tunnel beneath each and every one of his defences.

“Fuck off,” he said, his palm connecting with Azriel’s knuckles as he went for the dagger a second time. He paused, and then— “She’s… different.”

He dragged his hand through his hair again, thinking of how there hadn’t been an ounce of fear in her eyes when she went for his blade, not even a flicker. How beautiful she had looked, with her hand wrapped around that hilt, her grey eyes depthless. Stunning. He’d told Azriel nothing had happened, but Gods, it had. Everything had happened, tilting the ground beneath his feet until he wasn’t sure that the ground he stood on was stable anymore.

She’d gone for that dagger, and now he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her, wishing that she’d do it again. Longing to have her here beside him, in Velaris, where she could go toe-to-toe with him every damned day.

“She’s mortal too, Cass,” Azriel said softly. A warning— as if Cassian needed the reminder.

As if that wasn’t the only thing - the only damned thing - he forced himself to remember. A crutch for his self-restraint. Mortal— every time he thought of her, of her glare, or those eyes, or that twist of her lips— Mortal. Married.

Every time he pictured her hands, elegant and soft, but chilled because she didn’t have any gloves. Every time he saw the rain falling on her braids, the light glancing off her cheekbones. Every time he heard her voice, the sharp lilting sound of it, and every time his heart beat in answer.

Mortal. Married.

And unhappy— desperately unhappy, and neither of her sisters had noticed. He thought of the set of her shoulders, her clasped hands, that look of ire and indignation she pinned him with. The music grew louder, and there he was again, back to wondering what she would be like above the wall, in this city. No amount of whiskey could clear it, no amount of pretending could dampen it— he wanted to know what songs would make her eyes glaze and her breath hitch. What drink she would choose at the bar. Whether, if she were here instead of Feyre, she’d have come out tonight to dance, or gone home like her sister.

Mortal. Married.

They poked and prodded at once another, riled each other up, and parted without a real goodbye— and yet, he’d given her a compliment and she’d asked for his name. She’d given him the truth when everybody else around her was given lies, and it was pointless trying to deny it… He was drawn to her. Inexplicably— because she was mortal, and she was married, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about either. Sitting in that booth, as the music echoed and the lights danced, Cassian repeated those words like a mantra, but whatever he did, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make them stick. Couldn’t make them sink in.

Mortal.

Married.

Perhaps it didn’t matter.

Perhaps he didn’t care.

As he swallowed against the rising tide of anguish, he thought of those eyes, and decided that the next time he saw her…

The next time he wouldn’t let her get away without saying goodbye.

Tagging: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss

#nessian #nessian fic #begged & borrowed time

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crows-home · 2 years

Text

guess who wrote 2k words about shadow and associating certain colors with the people he cares about :D

(read on ao3)

Maria wears blue. A lot. Her dress is blue. So is her headband. So are her eyes. the walls of her room on the ARK are painted a pleasing sky blue.

You ask her why, one day. You two are in the middle of playing a game. The doctor bought it for her, and everything she has, she has always been more than happy to share with you. Shes about to put her piece down, when she stops to look at you.

‘its my favorite color,’ she says.

You frown, confused. ‘but, why?’

‘it makes me happy when I look at it,’ she says.

It still does not make sense. Preferring one color over all others is entirely illogical. It serves no purpose. You go to ask her to explain further, but then she coughs. You start to go to her, but she waves you off with an attempted smile. The cough worsens, however, and she ends hunched over the game board, her frail body quivering with the force of them.

‘you are not well,’ you tell her.

She smiles up at you again. ‘what else is new?’

You usher her back to her bed with an unamused face. she goes without any more resistance.

You try your best to find out what she means about colors. You look at different ones. the yellow of the stars, the whites of the clouds on the planet below, even the different fruits that make it aboard the ship. Your favorite fruits are apples and pomegranates. They are both warm colors, but you don’t think that’s why you like them.

It’s because you like sharing them with her.

Maria asks the doctor for a book on color theory, and you two skim through the pages together.

You are nestled on her lap while she lays in bed. Her blanket, blue and warm and soft, covers her legs.

‘here-‘ she reaches a page full of different shades of purple. ‘these are nice, aren’t they?’

You hum.

‘oh come on,’ she pokes you. ‘you’re not even a little fond of purple? Not even the pastel one? You enjoy the lavender soap we have.’

‘it is the one that least offends my nostrils.’ You say.

‘sure it is,’ you don’t see it, but you can tell she’s rolling her eyes at you. it makes you smile, almost. Because it means she is feeling good today. Well, as good as she can be, anyway. you love these days, when her voice is not heavy with exhaustion and her eyes are not clouded and weary.

You will make her better. You and the doctor. You will help him in whatever research he requires, train as hard as you can, so that she can be well and you can explore the world alongside her.

‘how about reds, Shadow? Any emotions when you see red?’

You close your eyes and grunt. ‘my quills are red,’ you say. ‘it is a color I am accustomed to. If I had an opinion on them, either positive or negative, I would either be vain or self-loathing. And I am neither of those things-‘

‘yeah, yeah, alright. No red then.’ She flips the page and scratches behind your ear. Suddenly, she closes the book. You open your eyes and look up at her curiously. ‘how about this, tell me the first thing that comes to your mind when I tell you a color. It’s almost like a game.’

‘alright,’ you do not move to sit up.

She covers your eyes with both of her hands. ‘no peaking.’ There is a smile in her voice, and you smile as well.

‘green.’ She begins.

‘fauna,’ you answer.

‘but does it make you happy? When you think about fauna?’

You frown. You want to say, not particularly, as I have never seen many of them up close. But she is doing this for you. she has been patient, so you should try harder. After a few moments, you speak. ‘I feel…impatient. I want to see it all up close already, and not just see them in your books.’

Maria rubs your quills. ‘I feel the same,’ she says sadly.

And it continues.

‘red.’

‘I think of myself. I feel bored because I have seen it so many times.’

‘orange?’

‘it is a bright color. It reminds me of the sun. I don’t think I would like to look at it for too long…’

Maria laughs. She has stopped covering your eyes, but you keep them closed. ‘I’m assuming yellow is the same.’ You nod. ‘I figured. How about brown?’

‘I think of the grain they serve aboard the ship. I think of dirt.’ You consider your words. ‘it is not unpleasant…but I don’t think I would prefer it.’

She goes through a list. Purple makes you think of lavender soap. You enjoy the smell. You think you might enjoy it. White is the color of the clouds and paper and stars, sometimes. You think it is fine, if a bit too bright and bland. Grey is the color of the metal of the ship. Of needles and harsh floors. You do not like grey. Maria yawns, and you find yourself wanting to do the same.

‘and blue?’ she murmurs.

Blue. The ocean. On earth, apparently, the sky is blue. Maria has shown him pictures before. But also, these walls. The blanket underneath your head. Maria’s favorite dress, which she says is her favorite because it is her favorite color and a gift from her mother and very comfortable. Maria’s headband, a gift from the doctor. Her eyes-

‘you,’ you say, as sleeps consumes you. ‘I think of you.’ and finally. ‘it’s nice.’

Blue is maria’s color. It is the way her eyes shine when they speak of traveling the world. With the hope of long lives for the people on earth. It’s the color you seek when you’ve come back from a particularly difficult round of testing. Blue means comfort and quiet talks and someone who touches you without pain.

‘maybe it’s too soon for you to choose one,’ maria says. you’re both standing by the largest window on the ARK, looking over the earth. ‘you haven’t experienced much of anything yet.’

You turn to her. She is watching the world, but she is distant. ‘when you are free from here, when you go below and live your life, I hope you can choose a color that makes you as happy as ever.’

You hate when she speaks like this. She speaks like she will not get to see it all with you. she speaks like she won’t be around long enough to see it.

Stop it, you want to say. Because the thought of losing the only person as close to family as you will ever have will nearly drive you insane. It does drive you insane, some nights. To realize how alone you are with the only comfort being in your sister’s arms.

‘You’ll be healthy and happy and maybe your favorite color will be green. When you touch it and feel it for yourself. Or maybe you’ll get to feel the warmth of sunshine and it will be yellow. Or maybe even-‘

‘Blue,’ you interrupt. She stops and stares at you.

‘I have decided,’ you say. ‘The color I most prefer is blue.’

She stares at you and for a few long moments, says nothing. You almost regret it. You do not sweat, so why are your palms so warm?

Finally, she smiles. It is bright and warm and releases the pressure building in your chest.

Yes, blue is your favorite color because it is the color of her. Her kindness and patience and mercy. And for her, you would do anything.

Blue was the color of maria. Of her dress, now more red than blue, from a bullet wound that you can’t pinpoint. It was the color of her headband, slipped off her hair as you two ran for your lives.

Blue was the color of her eyes when she said goodbye, slumped over the panel to sending you down, down, down. You bang on the glass, begging and pleading.

Blue is the color of the ocean you hurtle towards.

Blue was the color of maria.

Blue was your favorite color. And now you have come down here and experienced the world and all that color has given you is pain and grief.

That goddamn hedgehog. He’s the fastest, apparently. Their hero. But he looks at you with a fire and rage that almost match your own. You run, and he catches up to you. you would be impressed if you weren’t so hellbent on ending his life.

Just looking at him fills you with rage. He stares you down, unflinching, and fights you head-on. When you fight in the jungle, he is a remarkably easy target. His blue quills catch your eyes without much thinking.

Blue. If it wasn’t enough that he goes on and on about wanting to save and protect this plant (a planet that does not deserve to be saved. A planet with people in power who kill children for no reason- no reason. They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve the mercy that she was never shown. The mercy she so freely handed out, just like this goddamn blue hedgehog-) if that wasn’t enough, he has to go and be her color.

He is not worthy, and you will damn well make sure he knows it.

‘she wouldn’t want this, shadow.’

And you have to stop yourself from screaming.

Don’t tell me what she would want. Don’t speak as if you knew her or cared about her at all. Don’t speak like you understand what its like to lose everything. The world is unfair, I’ll make sure everyone understands.

That’s what she would have wanted, you think.

Why is everyone here so loud? Sonic and his friends, even the bat, Rouge that you have slightly acquainted yourself with. They laugh and tease each other and risk everything so the person they care about remains unharmed.

Its pathetic.

Were you this pathetic, once? Are you still?

Is it pathetic of your heart to jump at the sight of a blue blur, because where you once thought of warmth and tenderness, you now think of challenge? He challenges you in a way few have ever. You are excited, is all. Excited to watch him fall. Excited to give the color back to her, because she was the only one fit to wear it.

Blue was the color of maria. You knew. Somewhere inside you, you always knew. But now you remember. You remember mercy, and kindness, and patience, and laughter and god-

How could you forget?

Blue is forgiveness. Blue is compassion and understanding and encouragement, and isn’t it fitting that Sonic would share these things with her?

and if they are all like her, don’t they deserve a chance at life?

You decide. You will keep your promise, your true promise. It’s what she would have wanted. Its what you want too.

Gold is the color of your rings. It’s the color of you and Sonic, when you save the world.

It’s the color you see when he reaches for you, desperately, stupidly, mercifully, trying to save your life. And you shove him away, content with this being your end. How fitting, for another creature who wears blue to be your saving grace, and your demise. You’ve kept your promise to her and ensured they would have a decent chance for a future. They deserve it, just like she did.

You fall again, and this time you shut your eyes, and think of blue.

‘when you are free from here, when you go below and live your life, I hope you can choose a color that makes you as happy as ever.’

And you lived, and you will keep living.

Pink is the color or Amy Rose, sweet-faced and kind, but also remarkably dangerous (you really need to ask her about the rings she wears so similar to your own). Orange is the color of Tails, soaring by you, never far from Sonic’s side. A good kid, worth a good amount of respect. Purple reminds you of Rouge and the dishes she lets pile up, but also of the movies she drags you to and the times she makes you help her apply eyeshadow. Red is blood and fire, but also Omega and his unwavering stability. also Knuckles the echidna that you love to rile up.

But blue will always be special to you. for the memories, and the emotions it brings up. Because in the middle of battle, you catch a glimpse of blue out of the corner of your eye and feel your strength increase. When you go for a run and he runs by you, cocky grin on his face. your heart leaps at the challenge, every time. Blue is annoyance, respect, compassion, and so much more. Blue is a throbbing in your heart that you cant explain, after everything you two have been through.

Blue is one of your favorite colors. (you have many, not that anyone needs to know)

Blue was the color of maria. And blue is the color of Sonic.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #maria robotnik #sonadow #kinda?? it can be read that way i guess #idk man i got sad thinking about shadow and maria #my writing #please for the love of god dont tag this as shadowxmaria i wrote them as siblings

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