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imnotasuperhero · 9 months

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Tou you, my heart I surrender. (Prologue to SB)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The memories and the painful hunt Wanda's ghost had on you, found you swallowing for air as you were left alone to pick up the pieces after Wanda had broken up with you, resulting in you accepting an offer to move to the other side of the world just to find yourself.

A/N: This had started as a scene my mind created and it had evolved into some kind of self introspection? I just found myself writing this and I thought it'd be a nice prologue to my baker!Wanda AU? Anyways, I hope you like this and remember that whatever storm is looming over you, the weather gets better and life will grant you sunlight again.

This hasn't been proofread.

Allowing the air to fill your lungs and the oxygen power through your blood, you took the courage needed to ring the bell, focusing on anything that crossed your mind except the possibilities that could arise from such a mundane act.

"Oh, hi Y/N," the brunette showing through the ajar door greeted you politely.

"Hi," you nodded, intending to calm your erratic insides. "I'm sorry to bother you, it's just my key broke, so I was wondering if you still had a copy of it?" You asked, hopeful. The idea of the hustle that it was to find a locksmith at such a late hour of the night after the stressful day you had was enough for you to just call it a night and sleep at the park bench.

"Oh, sure. Come on in," Wanda promptly left you standing awkwardly in there while she wandered inside the apartment. But before you could get lost in the ideas your mind was quickly creating, a soft purr had you smiling tenderly as you kneeled and picked the cat noir you've got too attached to.

"Hello to you too, bally," you scratched in between his ears as Liho snoozed in your arms.

Basking in the calmness the furry always provided, you absentmindedly sat on the couch, legs crossed and humming to a tune too muffled for you to decipher where it was from, as you fought hard to calm the stormy cloud that seemed to have moved from the sky above into your mind.

"Some things never change." You looked up quizzically from your place on the sofa as you watched Wanda approaching with the shiny object in her hand.

"I suppose," you frowned, trying to decipher the meaning of those words. "Thank you for searching for it," you shuddered as your fingers grazed hers for a little too long. The painful burn was enough to make you gasp.

"It's no problem," she smiled gently and your heart ached with the knowledge that smile doesn't belong to you anymore.

"I should go, now," you scratched Liho's ear as you placed a few small kisses on his head. “Goodbye, handsome. See you soon.” You placed him on the couch before standing up, ready to make your exit.

“Thanks again,” you smiled crookedly once you reached the door.

“Anytime,” she offered and you made the mistake of looking into her eyes, discovering some spark that disappeared as soon as it came.

“Bye, Wands.” You nodded your goodbye, exhaling all the air you didn’t know you were holding all this time as you leaned against the wall, trying to compose yourself. It was right then, right there, you confirmed the fact that you’d never get over her.

Almost as in acting on autopilot, the next day you finally got up after your back had started hurting from laying in bed for so long. One look at the clock on your bedside had you sighing mockingly at the grunting in your stomach. Padding your way to the kitchen, you opened the fridge looking for something appealing that could provide the comfort your empty soul needed. But before you could decide, the doorbell echoed through the place.

Opening the door you couldn’t help smiling at the brown bag and the tray of coffee that greeted you.

“Thought you’d need this,” Pietro shrugged, walking inside.

“Like always, you’re my savior.” You took one of the two cups, sipping the beverage, allowing its warmth to ease your insides.

“How are you?” The look in his eyes warned you to open up. And on the contrary of feeling menaced, you found calmness knowing you had people who cared about your feelings. Pietro always being on the top list.

Breathing in deeply, you slumped your shoulders. “I thought it’d be easy, but seeing her, hearing her soft voice… it left me hurting,” you confessed. “Last night was like a stab to my heart, but I can’t find it in myself to be mad at her.”

Nodding, Pietro pursed his lips for a moment too long. “Will you accept the offer?”

Feeling his inspecting eyes looming over you, you sighed peacefully. “Yes.” You paused, allowing the decision you had made to sink in.

“I have to find myself, and to do so, I gotta move on from her. Even if I break myself in the process, I know it’ll be for the better.”

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” his hand found yours on your lap and squeezed it tenderly. “You’ve been together for as long as we’ve met, I believe going away in search of yourself is the only right thing to do. Even if that means I’ll miss you.”

“It’s not like you’ll never see me again,” you giggled. “But yeah. I’m gonna miss you too. All of you.”

“You better,” he warned as he took a bite of his chocolatey muffin. “What you say we catch up on one of our shows?”

Smiling from ear to ear, you turned your body to face the TV. “Your turn to pick.”

And so, the next few hours had been spent in the company of your best friend, basking in his presence before you had to begin your journey far from the city and the people you loved.

-----

At first, the days moved smoothly for the majority of it. But when the night came, the pain inside you only seemed to magnify as the memories of the greatest love you’ve ever had played in front of you.

The way Wanda had gotten under your skin, marking every part of your body and soul as hers, was something you could never loathe. Having been the prey of her charming persona, was something you could never regret, for she had been the one who loved you the deepest. Even if in the end, she left you alone to pick up the pieces.

But as time passed by and you started to work on yourself by going outside and exploring new places, you started to feel lighter.

What once seemed like something unthinkable, you now learned to enjoy, like for instance- a cup of steamy tea in a cozy café all by yourself. And the loneliness that you found yourself in, soon shifted into a comfortable cocoon where you recharged your soul and provided you with the clarity to understand your way of thinking, allowing yourself to dissect your thoughts and learn from them.

As the days, weeks and months went by, you allowed yourself to experience life through a new lens, finding yourself enjoying every sunray and every raindrop, having understood that you can’t have rainbows without a fair share of rain and sun in your life.

As time passed by and you discovered yourself, you made your peace with the owner of your heart. After all, Wanda had shown you how to love and how to cherish the littlest things in life.

Smiling at the tears running down your face, you thanked the universe for this experience.

The open scenery surrounding you, lured you to sit in the grass and let the sun's rays warm your body, like a soothing balm on your scarred soul.

Granted, some days were –still are- harder than others. But you patted your back for the long way you’ve come.

Your work and the neverending walks you took whenever your rushed life allowed you, have been a great pillar to your self-healing. And as you saw the few couples around you, her memory didn’t hurt you anymore.

Despite the fact Wanda had taken part of you with her, the mention of her name and her pictures of the moments you couldn't be part of didn’t tear your soul apart anymore.

And after a year and a half, you were finally able to come back home and be at peace with her looming presence in your life.

With your mind set on keep being this new –better- version of yourself, you swore that even though your heart had surrendered to Wanda forever, she could never break you again.

Taglist: @wandabear @red1culous @fxckmiup @anaaam (If you want to be tagged, let me know(: )

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #sweet blesing #my writing

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thedawningofthehour · 8 months

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6, 14, 17, 18, and 29 for the fic writer asks (or however many of those you want to answer!! I know thats a lot sorry lol)

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

@spectralsleuth's Little Scraps of Wisdom. It's the perfect blend of just fluffy enough to not require tons of mental energy, but also serious and angsty enough to keep my attention. Also the format makes it really easy to pick a section and just dip in-perfect for my ADHD ass.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Doth, at least parts of it. The whole thing wouldn't translate well to visual media-there's tons of introspection, conversations that wouldn't be all that interesting visually. (at least not animated-you don't really get Cersei Lannister-esque performances from animated characters) Stuff like the actions scenes, big scenes with multiple people speaking, those would probably translate the best.

My Dishonored fic, god no. It's video game media and it's very obvious that that's the source material. It would be incredibly boring if you weren't in Daud's head the whole time.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Uhh. Like. So much stuff?

For doth, it's been insanely broad. On any given day, my writing window might be filled with Wikipedia pages on scientific topics, cultural, history, law. Right now I have a bunch of pages open about military tactics and technology, a Google Maps of NYC, and then some articles on nobility and royal titles.

For The Red Queen, I had to learn a lot of architecture terms when writing Daud running around doing backflips off rooftops. I don't even think half of them even made it into the text, but I had to know what he was perched on top of like a daddy seagull. I also did a whole dive into the Black Death for that one. Oh, if you want an interesting fact, did you know the plague was actually carried by fleas and not rats like many assumed? That's partially why it was so bad in cities. Poland actually had a much lower death toll than the rest of Europe in part because of its high Jewish population (mostly refugees because many cities blamed them for the plague-because of fucking course they did) who washed more frequently than the average peasant at the time and their neighbors decided to get in on that too. Milan survived relatively unscathed because whenever someone showed signs of plague, they and their family members were walled up in their homes and set on fire.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

I like the entire exchange between Leo and Draxum on the roof. There were a lot of details written into those lines that gave extra information or conveyed something about their mental states.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

I've played around with writing out Cass's consensual kidnapping and walking in on Gale being brainwashed, with some blurbs about her adjusting to life in the Hidden City. They never really got past scraps, but I can post this scrap.

She’s just getting back from school, last week before winter break, her head swarming with final this and final that. Tom says hello to her from where he’s working at the dining room table. Casey says hello back and promptly excuses herself to go work on her final paper for English.

He should be happy about that. She’s actually doing her homework.

Tom’s not bad, she supposes. He’s nice enough and doesn’t try to catch her coming out of the shower. He and Cindy offered to pay the fee if she rejoined the hockey team this year. But he gets on her every last nerve. She’s their first foster and they are absolutely trying too hard. At least Cindy isn’t home enough to annoy her.

She shuts her bedroom door and drops her backpack on the floor. Ugh. She could kill whoever invented academic papers. Well, the Odyssey isn’t going to write about itself.

“I have to say, this wasn’t-”

Casey whirls around, grabbing the first thing she registers-some Hello Kitty knick-knack she keeps on her dresser, in this case-and hurls it at the intruder.

Draxum bats it away, barely raising an eyebrow.

#doth asks #ask game

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formylove4119 · 2 years

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December 6th, 2022.

1:24 am.

The other night you came and stayed over for the first time since we got back together. The night started out a little more stressful. I asked you to help me take the ac out of my window and bring it to my nanas. I coukd tell you really didn't want to, and I wasn't going to push you, but you did it anyways. I always admire your motivation to push yourself even when you're not at 100%. We brought it over to nanas and stayed an chatted in the doorway for a few minutes while holind ran up and down the stairs with excitement giving nana kisses everytime he passed by. I could tell she was nervous at first, but it quickly calmed when she realized how friendly and happy holind is! We ended up getting him back in the car and said our goodbyes to head back home. On the way I could tell something was off and I called you out on it. You told me that you were happy to help out, but that you thought I was capable of and should have already done it myself. We had a short fight about it and then drove the rest of the way home in silence. When we got in I went to the other room without a sound and by this point I think you caught on that I was pretty upset, because your whole demeanor changed. I was angerly decorating the tree when I heard "mekasseeee, come toke with meee" in a playful voice from the kitchen. I came to the room to smoke a bowl with you, still looking fairly grumpy, and you were just standing there smiling. It immediately calmed the frustration I was feeling, but not quite all the way. Then you told me I was cute, you were enjoying my grumpy face and promptly gave me a big hug to ease the rest of my angst. I felt so happy, warm, comfy, peaceful and just overall at home in your arms. I always do.

We then went back to my living room to finish decorating the Christmas tree. A few ornaments in, you found my pokemon monopoly board and seemed pretty excited to play. I love board games and I love you so I was more than down to play. The whome time, a home video of my family the Christmas one week before I was born and some footage of me as a baby was playing in the background. I'm glad I got to show you that tape.

We eventually decided to retire the monopoly game to the bedroom and threw on the documentary "died suddenly" in the background. We ended up getting really into the movie so we ended the game where it was and you definitely kicked my butt (I was playing the late game 😉). The movie was really good and extremely insightful, but it also ended up being almost detrimentally introspective as well. We both had a little cry through the film thinking about our loved ones and worrying about their future health. But we just held eachother tighter throughout the documentary.

Once it was done we were just about ready to sleep. We were chatting about the movie while cuddling and then out of the blue you held me so tight in your arms and exclamed the word "mine". The expression was immediately brought to a pause, a fearful yet amused look was left on your face. This was the first true expression of intense emotion you felt for me in the moment I had experienced from you yet. I loved it, and felt so happy you were comfortable enough at that time to show your love in such a way. Even if it was accidental, it was how you were feeling and you couldn't hold it in. And I feel this way about you often as well and am also becoming much more comfortable expressing it without fear of scaring you off.

We've come even further the past few days but it's getting late so that is another story for another night written out for my love to be able to relive the first moments we both allowed ourselves to fully fall in love with eachother.

-E

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ibijau · 3 years

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Futures Past pt 11 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixun chat while punished together, and discover they have more in common than they'd like.

warning for brief mentions of past physical and verbal violence against a child

Nie Huaisang had hoped that he would be allowed to wait until his nose had returned to its usual shape before his punishment. A hope quickly extinguished when Lan Qiren pointed out that he didn't need his nose to be kneeling and thinking about his behaviour. And so, one day after that fight, his face still swollen, Nie Huaisang found himself kneeling after class inside the discipline hall, next to Jin Zixun.

They’d been ordered to kneel inside the courtyard, with their backs to the gate. That way the gravel dug into their knees, and they were exposed to the view of anyone passing by, their shame on display for good, dutiful young people to behold.

Nie Huaisang didn’t much care about shame, but he certainly minded discomfort, and he was in plenty of it. Kneeling like this for so long, without any movement allowed, was the most cruel thing he’d ever been forced to endure in his entire life, he quickly decided. And he had to remain unmoving. Lan Wangji, who had been tasked with watching over them even though he was their junior, had announced that if one of them didn’t stay still, they would both be given lines to copy in punishment. He’d meant it, too, and already Nie Huaisang had gotten them two such sets of lines to do later.

“I’ll break your neck if you don’t stop fidgeting already,” Jin Zixun threatened in a whisper after the second time.

“I’m doing my best,” Nie Huaisang replied in the same tone.

“No talking,” Lan Wangji ordered.

He didn’t say they’d be punished if they chatted again, but of course he didn’t need to. This was the Cloud Recesses. Everything got you punished in this hellish place. Nie Huaisang missed home so badly, more than he’d ever thought possible. When he got home, he would be a good, dutiful, obedient brother, and he would never again complain about the way they did things in the Unclean Realm. Maybe that was the secret to Lan Qiren’s success in turning young men into perfect gentlemen. Everyone was so terrified of being forced to deal again with Gusu Lan’s rules and its awful food that they behaved just enough to never be sent back.

Bored to pieces, his knees hurt by gravel, and his legs cramping, Nie Huaisang tried to entertain himself by mentally reciting every bit of poetry he’d ever enjoyed. Then he tried to see if he could remember every rule of Gusu Lan. Then, in despair, he decided to compose some poetry of his own, all of it about the pains and horror of being far from home and among cruel strangers.

When he glanced at the sky, the sun’s position told him that only a quarter of a shichen had passed, if even that.

It was going to be a very long week.

After an eternity, Nie Huaisang heard something near the gate and spotted Su She lingering there. It made him smile. Probably it was coming close to dinner time, and Su She wanted to catch some time with him on the way to the dining halls. Su She didn’t dare come too close of course, not when Lan Wangji was there, so severe he might have been forty instead of fourteen. But Nie Huaisang was glad to have a friend nearby, and it made the whole thing feel a little less unpleasant.

A little after, Nie Huaisang noticed that Lan Wangji was looking at something. He threw another glance back, only to discover that Lan Xichen was there too, quietly talking with Su She. Neither looked very happy to be in such company, while also making great effort to pretend otherwise. It made Nie Huaisang snort, and that in turn made him wince because of his nose.

When he checked toward the door one last time, both Su She and Lan Xichen were gone. Soon after, the bell calling for dinner rang at last, and Lan Wangji announced that his two victims were free to go.

“Return after dinner,” he reminded them. “If you are late, there will be more punishment.”

After staying so long in the same position, Nie Huaisang found that he almost couldn’t stand at all. His only comfort was to see Jin Zixun didn’t appear in much better shape in spite of a higher cultivation. Together they hobbled toward the dining halls, both pretending not to see the other. By the time they arrived, everyone else had already started eating, but the Lans very generously didn’t remark on that. Nie Huaisang quickly found his place with the other Nie disciples, who served him food and slipped him some snacks they’d sneaked in. For once that their young master acted like a proper Nie, they were determined to encourage him, perhaps in hope that next time he would not just start a fight but also win it.

The second day of punishment was much like the first, except this time Su She didn’t come to visit. It was probably for the best if he didn’t come anywhere near Jin Zixun for a while, Nie Huaisang thought, and he was half sure Lan Xichen must have come to the same conclusion. Perhaps Lan Xichen had asked, or even ordered, that Su She stay away for the time being.

Nie Huaisang tried not to feel upset about that.

He also tried to count how many shades of grey he could differentiate in the gravel of the courtyard. At a little over two thousand, he stopped counting and decided that being bored was, in fact, less boring than that.

On the third day of punishment, a different disciple was overseeing them, one a little less vicious than Lan Wangji. That boy, older than them by a few years but not old enough to be called a man, looked as though he enjoyed being there as little as they did. While Lan Wangji usually either meditated or studied while watching over his victims, that Lan boy quickly grew restless and took to walking around. At some point he even went out the doors to check on something, leaving Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixun alone.

While Nie Huaisang didn’t dare to move, in case Lan Wangji popped by to check on them, Jin Zixun immediately started stretching his limbs, even sitting cross-legged for a little bit once he figured the Lan disciple went for a long walk.

“So, your merchant friend didn’t come around today either,” Jin Zixun said, apparently unable to not be an ass for even an incense stick’s time. “Guess you forgot to pay him his due for the week? You’d have to pay him. How else would anyone spend time with someone like you?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have to pay people to be my friends,” Nie Huaisang replied, still a little unhappy that Su She hadn’t tried to come again but refusing to let it show. “Or do you think those other Jin guys hang out with you because they like you?”

“Shut up!”

“Well, I guess it’s really your uncle paying them to stay around you,” Nie Huaisang mused, carefully stretching a little as well. “It must be costing him a fortune, too.”

“Maybe you’re not paying them, but you think your brother isn’t forcing his disciples to hang out with you too?” Jin Zixun scoffed. “You think your merchant friend would have bothered with you if you weren’t so high up in Qinghe Nie’s hierarchy? Someone like you, aside from your connexions, what’s your appeal?”

“Shut up, it’s not like that. Su-xiong doesn’t care about these things,” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, allowing his voice to rise higher than was prudent.

The Lan disciple in charge of them, alerted by the sudden noise, returned and mildly scolded them for not being quiet, though he said nothing about both of them having obviously changed position while he was gone. He didn’t leave again for the rest of their time in the disciple halls, for which Nie Huaisang was secretly a little glad. He hadn’t liked at all where that conversation was going.

Su She wasn’t the sort to use others for their connexions. He was too proud for that, too determined to succeed by the strength of his own hard work. He was Nie Huaisang’s friend, sincerely so. And just because Su She had not tried again to see Nie Huaisang since the beginning of his punishment, since Lan Xichen had been manipulated into taking his side at last, offering him the support within his sect he'd always wanted…

Nie Huaisang was angry at himself for having that sort of doubts, and angry at Su She for acting in a manner that allowed doubts to be formed.

But Su She had to have an excellent reason for keeping his distance, and Jin Zixun was just jealous because nobody would ever take a hit to protect him.

Besides, even if they both only had an entourage because people were forced to hang out with them due to their rank, at least Nie Huaisang had a better one. His brother’s disciples, even after three days, were still sneaking him sweets and medicine at dinner, to help him deal with his punishment, still whispering that the whole thing was unfair, that Jin Zixun had been asking for trouble and everyone knew the gossip about him was true. Meanwhile, the Jin disciples were mostly avoiding conversation with Jin Zixun unless he talked first, and didn’t appear to particularly worry for his well-being. Every time Nie Huaisang glanced that way during meals, Jin Zixun was looking sullen and quite lonely.

It made sense because Jin Zixun was the worst person in the world, while Nie Huaisang knew himself to be lovely and delightful.

Well.

He knew himself to be kind of funny and generous with sharing the perks that came with his position, anyway, and that was almost the same.

On the fourth day of punishment, Nie Huaisang ended up doing some comparison of his and Jin Zixun’s situation. He hadn’t meant to. But Lan Wangji was the one watching them again, Nie Huaisang was so bored, and he just didn’t have anything to occupy himself except introspection.

Jin Zixun, he promptly decided, was an awful prick and people were right to dislike him. But at the same time, there was a good chance that some people had disliked him from the start, just because of who he was and how he was born, which might have turned him into a prick as a reaction. Nie Huaisang knew he’d been close to doing the same when he was younger, except he was too lazy for that, and also he’d always had his brother who both sincerely supported him and didn’t let him get away with hurting others on those occasions Nie Huaisang had tried abusing his position.

There would have been nobody to be there for Jin Zixun like that, he figured. Maybe his mother, but everyone knew she kept away from the world these days. His uncle could, and certainly should have been a model and a guide, but since the uncle in question was Jin Guangshan, and with the whole scandal around Jin Zixun’s birth… At that point Madam Jin should have stepped up when her husband failed to take care of the nephew they were half raising, but that wasn’t going to happen, not when she was well known to despise all of Jin Guangshan’s bastards. And aside from these two, who could have dared to stand up to that young master, second in line to inherit their sect and with a personality so awful that he was sure to develop a personal grudge against anyone who opposed him?

Maybe in another sect, someone would still have had that courage. But Lanling Jin was a sect of ambitious cowards, or so Nie Huaisang thought after listening to his brother rant against them.

So the only difference between Nie Huaisang and Jin Zixun was that one had been raised right, while the other had barely been raised at all. It made for an unpleasant conclusion: they weren't so different.

And then, there was the matter of gossip. Both of their births had been tainted by scandals caused by adults who really ought to have behaved better. Nie Huaisang had suffered a little from it, mostly when he was very young, but it had been years since anyone but his father had thrown that to his face. But Jin Zixun… everyone knew about Jin Zixun, and everyone brought it up every time he was annoying, which of course happened a lot.

It had to be awful, Nie Huaisang thought as he knelt over gravel, stealing a glance at his companion of misfortune. And so, having reached that realisation, Nie Huaisang felt some guilt over the way he’d acted that day. Sure he had just been trying to protect Su She but maybe, just maybe, he’d taken that a little too far when he’d started insulting Jin Zixun’s birth instead of just his sect and atrocious personality.

Then, to make everything worse, Nie Huaisang realised that just like in his own case, everything about Jin Zixun might have just been baseless gossip, a complete invention.

That ruined his mood for the rest of the day. When he saw Jin Zixun being ignored by the other Jins at dinner, Nie Huaisang almost sprung from his sitting place to publicly apologise to him.

He might have, if he hadn’t disliked Jin Zixun too much to be nice to him in front of an audience.

When day five arrived, and it was again that rather less serious Lan disciple watching them rather than Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang realised he really was guilty for what he’d said to Jin Zixun, guilty enough to consider making an apology. A real one, too, not just the tearful thing he’d already planned on reciting in front of Lan Qiren.

Because while Jin Zixun was, in fact, the most disagreeable person in the world, a bully, an asshole, self important, and just generally unpleasant… throwing it in his face that he might be an unwanted bastard was a low blow, and had nothing to do with the things that were so detestable about him.

Nie Huaisang waited until, once again, the Lan disciple grew bored of watching them kneel silently and went for a walk. He then waited a moment more to make sure they were alone, before finally daring to speak.

“So, I think I should apologise.”

“Keep that for later,” Jin Zixun snapped at him. “It’s Lan Qiren you’ll need to impress, not me.”

“Old man Lan is a different problem, I’ll convince him,” Nie Huaisang boasted. “But you… This is a real apology. I shouldn't have said that. About your father. I shouldn't have."

Jin Zixun glared at him, looking furious enough that Nie Huaisang feared he was going to be punched again. In the end though, Jin Zixun wasn’t stupid enough to do that again when it had gotten him in such trouble the first time, so he just shrugged.

"Everyone says it anyway. Why should I expect any better, especially from an idiot like you?"

"Because I should know better. I'm… at home, they say the same about me."

Jin Zixun threw him a suspicious look. Probably he'd heard that Nie Huaisang's mother had a bad reputation or he wouldn’t have mentioned her that time, but he'd likely never heard the actual story, though their parents' generation were usually aware of the scandal. Nie Huaisang himself avoided talking about it. It was something of a sore point to this day. He wouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone normally, happy to let the matter be forgotten, but then again he hadn’t really ever met anyone else whose situation was quite so close to his own.

And what was the worst that Jin Zixun could do anyway, when every grown up already knew the story? When they'd just fought so publicly, and sharing gossip would just be seen by other kids their age as a petty and pointless attempt at revenge?

"My mom was married to another man when she started seeing my dad," Nie Huaisang whispered, glancing around to make sure there were no Lans around waiting to punish them for chatting. "A magistrate, I've heard. A bad man, for sure. My father always said he was a very corrupt man, very cruel to the people depending on him."

Nie Huaisang paused for a moment. It was never easy to think about his father, even worse to think about his mother. He missed them both, even if he didn’t remember either too well, and what he could recall was unpleasant in both cases. His mother had died so young, and his father...

"I think my father killed that man, but I'm not sure,” Nie Huaisang continued. “Everyone says if he did, it was a good deed. But anyway, my mother was with child already when she came to the Unclean Realm, so of course people said…"

"With the way your cultivation sucks, they might be right," Jin Zixun said in a flat voice. Nie Huaisang looked around, and punched him in the shoulder. Jin Zixun didn't even wince. "What? It's true, you're terrible at this! What sort of cultivator faints just from being punched? But if neither of your parents are cultivators, I’m surprised someone like you made it this far."

"Shut up! My dad is my dad," Nie Huaisang insisted. "He always said he was sure of it, no matter how many others doubted it. He'd say my mother also was sure, and he never let anyone say otherwise. I was his second wife's son, so I was his son, and anyone who had a problem with it could fight him. And he never changed his mind about that!"

Not until his sabre broke and his mind with it, anyway. Then he'd taken to calling Nie Huaisang a bastard when they were alone, a conniving schemer trying to steal his true son's inheritance, the son of a corrupt man, no better than a cuckoo taking space in a nest that wasn’t his.

Nie Huaisang’s father had had many things to say, by the end, and Nie Huaisang, who’d been ten at the time, hadn’t been so sure anymore who his father was. Not until Nie Mingjue had started pointing out how much he looked like this or that cousin, how the two of them had their father’s eyes.

Nie Mingjue had protected his brother before and after their father died. If he hadn’t been there...

But those last few months didn't matter. That wasn't who Nie Huaisang’s father had really been. Just an empty shell with his face.

"Lucky," Jin Zixun grumbled.

Nie Huaisang thought of his father threatening to strangle him, a few days before finally dying, and nodded anyway. He was lucky, compared to some others.

He was lucky compared to Jin Zixun.

"My dad never defended me," Jin Zixun said after a moment of silence. "The idiot died too soon."

A little surprised that Jin Zixun would make such a confidence, Nie Huaisang still nodded.

It was a well known story, and the Jin hadn't managed to smother as efficiently as the Nie had done with their own scandal. Mostly, they hadn't really tried.

Jin Zixun's father had been Jin Guangshan's younger brother, and he had married a famed beauty who many men of their generation had set their eyes on. Jin Guangshan himself had tried his chance, only to be forced instead into a political engagement with a woman he didn't like while his brother got the true prize. Of course, being Jin Guangshan, neither his own engagement nor the lady's wedding to his brother had changed his interest in her. He had pursued her with ruthless persistence, while she had avoided him with growing desperation.

Only a few weeks after the marriage, the unfortunate lady became a widow when her husband died during a Night Hunt, and it said something about Jin Guangshan that whenever Nie Huaisang had heard that story recounted, everyone always felt the need to point out it really had been an accident. As for his sister-in-law, she immediately announced she would enter permanent seclusion, out of respect for her husband she'd said.

To put herself out of reach of her lecherous brother-in-law, everyone believed.

That seclusion hadn't lasted a month when it was announced that the lady was pregnant. She gave birth shortly after Jin Guangshan's wedding to the fearsome Madam Jin, only for Jin Guangshan to promptly announce that his sister-in-law's son would be his heir if he didn't have sons from his own wife.

With all this happening in less than a year, of course people gossiped. The true parentage of Jin Zixun, then and now, was a matter of much debate.

It didn't help that he looked so much like his uncle.

"I've heard that your mother has always denied all the rumours," Nie Huaisang said, more out of pity than conviction. "And, I mean, she'd know, right ? And if you were your uncle's son you'd have a real claim to Lanling Jin, so she could have tried to scheme and..."

"My mother is an honourable woman!” Jin Zixun barked. “She'd never have borne it!"

"And your uncle is a prick."

Jin Zixun grabbed Nie Huaisang by the collar, and dragged him closer.

"Take that back, or I'll find another part of your face to break!"

Nie Huaisang looked around, in case that outburst had been heard, then shrugged.

"Your uncle is a prick, or else he'd have done more to defend your mom's reputation. I bet he likes that people think he seduced her."

"I'll break your teeth!” Jin Zixun threatened, but he released Nie Huaisang's collar. “Uncle said nothing because gossip aren't worth his time. Only the weak and powerless care about rumours, so he refused to give them any consideration."

"And he likes to have people think he can seduce any woman,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, straightening his clothes. “You know, I've heard that he even went after Qin Furen, from Laoling. You know, that beautiful lady? And…"

"Shouldn't you know better than to spread gossip?" Jin Zixun snapped.

That was the whole problem of course. Nie Huaisang should have known better. It annoyed him to no end when people talked about his parents, because he knew the truth, and they’d told the truth to everyone, so it was ridiculous of people to still debate that.

But other people’s gossip was fun to collect, and sometimes fun to spread as well. Especially when it had a chance of being the actual truth...

"Shouldn't you know better than to bully people for their origins like you do for Su-xiong?" Nie Huaisang grumbled. "Anyway, it's not real gossip, it's real truth. My da-ge saw your uncle try to kiss Qin Furen once some years back, only he interrupted, and later she thanked him for it."

Jin Zixun gritted his teeth. He fell silent a moment, considering the information.

"She's very beautiful," Jin Zixun said with some reluctance. "And just his type. It could be true."

"Da-ge says you can usually trust the women when they speak about these things. He says my mom never showed any doubt at all, no matter how many people pestered her. And I guess your mom's the same. So don't worry, I think we're both our fathers' sons."

"Of course I am," Jin Zixun grumbled. "I didn't need some second rate cultivator like you to tell me that." He paused a moment, and sighed. "I guess I should say thanks anyway. Most people just say my mom wouldn't say it even if the gossip were true. And that's not fair. She's a good person, she wouldn't lie!"

Nie Huaisang looked away to hide a grin. Jin Zixun was a prick and a bully, but he might also be a bit of a mama's boy.

It was kind of cute.

"What's she like, your mom?" he asked.

"Why should you care?"

Nie Huaisang shrugged. He glanced back toward the gate, just to make sure the Lan disciple in charge of them wasn't returning. But they'd truly been abandoned.

"We can have a nice chat,” Nie Huaisang offered, “or we can continue reflecting on what awful people we are for having a personality, which is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. C'mon, tell me something fun instead. Like how your parents met? And I can tell you about mine? Anything as long as I can forget how bad my knees hurt."

Jin Zixun huffed and puffed, but he started telling the story of his parents' meeting. He was a horrible storyteller, but Nie Huaisang balanced it out by being a great audience.

When the end of the week arrived, and they had to make formal apologies to each other, Nie Huaisang's was more earnest that he'd ever planned it to be. He thought, also, that Jin Zixun seemed a little sorry as well, but that might have only been wishful thinking.

#xisang #nie huaisang #jin zixun #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel

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acciocrzychickfics · 3 years

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2020 Remadora Fanfic Recommendations

So these are not all of my favorites because there are so many, many to choose from but these are. Also I rarely read fluff, so I struggled with that list, sorry. I have put an * next to any story that is fabulous read by has been abandoned.

MutliChapter Rec

1. If Only by LoquaciousLupin

Tonks meets a mysterious, charming and handsome man at a muggle bar, imagine her surprise when the next time she bumps into him is at her first Order meeting! Will they continue their flirtatious relationship or push aside their feelings in the name of the Order?

Rating: K Status: Complete

2. The Bureaucratic Error by Iniga

After his death, Remus finds himself 5 years in the past, having undone Voldemort's defeat and Teddy's birth. He's going to need his old friend Sirius to help him with this one.

Rating: T Status : Incomplete*

3. Chasing Grindylows by Firetoflame

She pens the note on official Ministry letterhead. Remus Lupin, it reads. You are hereby summoned to attend an Auror interview regarding case file number 713, suspect to be named, Sirius Black. You are required to attend promptly at nine o'clock on the morning of Tuesday the twenty-first. Sincerely, Nymphadora Tonks, Auror Department

Rating: M Status: Complete

4. Lycanthropy, Love and Other Curses by Thora Jane

This is the story of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks from beginning...to end.

Rating: T Status: In-Progress (last updated on 12/13/20)

5. A Marriage of Convivence? by BDA

The Ministry of Magic is preparing to pass new and extremely restrictive laws against magical beings. The Order must scramble to protect Remus, who will be greatly affected by the restrictions on werewolves. Thankfully Dumbledore has a solution. It is decided that Remus will marry Tonks - a pretend relationship to take advantage of a loophole in the laws. Will it work? How will the pair find being married to each other?

Rating: E Status: Complete

6. A Crinkle of Fate by AFaith1192

What if you were given a second chance? An opportunity to change everything... At the last minute before dying, Nymphadora Tonks makes a desperate wish; a wish to save more than one life. But changing the future has a price, and she will have to learn how to pay it.

Rating: T Status: In-Progress (last updated on 11/15/20)

7. Flying Colours Series by TauraNorma

The ‘Flying Colours’ trilogy follows Lupin and Tonks’ romance across the canon timeline, from the beginning of the Order of the Phoenix until the end of the Deathly Hallows.

Rating: E Status: In-Progress

8. Snapshots by brainyisalwayssexy

Mini scenes and moments that could’ve, should’ve been in the films, but weren’t. Movie-canon semi-compliant. Not meant to make sense from chapter to chapter, and not in chronological order.

Rating: M Status: In-Progress (last updated on 12/21/20)

9.Muggle AU Series by AyashiTetsuko132

A school teacher with a rebellious past. A punk musician with a dynamic present. They have an interesting future together.

Rating: T Status: Complete

10. Protection Detail by LoquaciousLupin

As she can't actively be involved with the search for Black, Tonks is sent to co-ordinate the protection of Hogwarts and Harry Potter whilst Sirius is on the loose. Whilst there, she befriends a charming but secretive new professor. Set during Prisoner of Azkaban. AU in later chapters. Rated for language! Remus/Tonks centred fic.

Rating: T Status: Incomplete (last updated 06/27/20)

11. Worth the Risk by HeadintheCloudsForever

AU. Odyssey-length long fic. Tonks/Remus. Following an Order mission gone horribly wrong that results in Tonks becoming gravely wounded, she meets Remus Lupin when he and Moody rescue her, and Dumbledore assigns Lupin as her new partner for the year, and during the painful time of healing as the young witch recovers from her injuries, she slowly begins to warm up to the man and falls in love with him. Remadora.

Rating: T Status: Complete

Angst/Hurt/Comfort

1. I Can't Tell Her by accio_spaceman

He couldn't tell her- it would ruin everything. But can he stop himself? Originally written about Remadora but written in such a way that you could make it about pretty much anyone.

Rating: K Status: Complete

2. In Denial by secretfanficlover

Remus and Tonks try their best to prevent Tonks from becoming pregnant, a war wasn't the time or place for a child, but Teddy was going to become part of the family whether they liked it or not.

Rating: K Status: Complete

3. The First Goodbye by couldbemoresonic

“I’m leaving. Albus,” he nodded to the Hogwarts Headmaster, who nodded in return, “has asked me to go into the Underground to help with recruiting.” A few people gasped, Molly audibly said, “Remus no, that’s far too dangerous!” Remus didn’t look at Molly Weasley though. He found himself instead, looking directly into the pale grey eyes of Nymphadora Tonks.

Remus leaves to be a Werewolf spy for the Order, but stops in to say goodbye first.

Rating: G Status: Complete

4. Clearing the Desk by HecateA

Harry inherited a certain someone's desk in the Auror Office and finds out just how many slices of someone's life can be contained in a couple of drawers. Oneshot.

Rating: K Status: Complete

5. For the Sake of the Daughter by Gilpin

Tonks brings Remus home to see her parents and it's a meeting of mixed emotions for all. Set just after the end of HBP

Rating: T Status: Complete

Fluffy, Fluff

1. The Order’s Most Eligible Bachelors by cafei-au-lei

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors, or: the ladies indulge in some firewhiskey and gossip. Sirius and Remus stumble upon a game they're not sure they want to be privy to (okay, maybe Sirius does.) The results lead to some necessary conversation and introspection for a few of the parties involved. Oneshot.

Rating: T Status: Complete

2. Lucky Stars by Sirussly

Series of oneshots (most are fluffly haha)

Rating: G Status: Incomplete*

3. Chapter by Chapter by HecateA

Due to a mix-up in the school library, McGonagall's new TA gets the book that Remus needs, which leads to some slow and painful torture. Oneshot. University/College AU.

Rating: K Status: Complete

4. Strange Magic by ItsSoRonksItsRight

Molly comes across a pair of bright purple female short-style lace briefs, what will Remus do? Ronks. Rated T to be safe. One-shot. Disclaimer: I do not own anything relatable to Harry Potter, I'm just borrowing.

Rating: T Status: Complete

5. The Love Life of Nymphadora Tonks by miniandminie

After Tonks slips to Sirius that she likes someone, the entire Order of the Phoenix is on her case to find out who that ‘someone’ is, including the ‘someone’ himself: Remus Lupin. RLNT, Remadora.

Rating: K Status: Complete

Family (Remus/Tonks/Teddy)

1. The Talk, Or The (Lighthearted) Trauma of Teddy R. Lupin by cafei-au-lei

Teddy knew when Dad brought out the firewhiskey that something was suspicious. Then again, maybe he wasn't giving Dad enough credit for being the cool parent. AU. Remus and Tonks survive to raise their son and give him The Dreaded Talk. Oneshot.

Rating: T Status: Complete

2. Grocery Shopping with the Lupins by Deletinvthissoon

What happens when Teddy Lupin gets lost in the grocery store?

Rating: K Status: Complete

3. In Case I Don’t Live Forever by ThatHCWriter

While cleaning out her attic years after the war, Andromeda discovers a strange muggle media device. She turns it on, and when it begins, Andromeda's world stops.

"Is this thing on? Teddy! It's your dad."

Or, how an accidental discovery allows Teddy Lupin to hear a message from beyond the grave.

Rating: T Status: Complete

4. Remus, Teddy! by LadyLoss15

Remadora oneshot Tonks spends an amazing day with Remus just to realize at the end of the day that, to her horror, they have forgotten about bringing Teddy home from the kindergarten. Or have they really?

Rating: NR Status: Complete

5. The Miracle of Accidental Magic by Mills87

Teddy has a bout of accidental magic when he and his Grandma are attacked by a remnant group of Voldemort supporters on his third birthday. His magic transports him and Andromeda back in time to three years before he was born. With no way back to their time will Andromeda find a way to safely alter time to save her loved ones, what consequences may lie ahead?

Rating: T Status: Incomplete*

Smut/PWP

1. Awake at Night by Skelpielimmer

Tonks muses on her newfound obsession with Remus Lupin's hands. OotP. Rated M for adult content!

Rating: M Status: Complete

2. The Perils of Patrol by Worthfull1

Things get a little heated when patrolling undercover. Rated M for swearing and smut. One-shot.

Rating: E Status: Complete

3. Under the Invisibility Cloak by AWideEyedPhoenix84

Lupin and Tonks find themselves in a precarious situation on a mission for the Order, and months of pent-up passion come out right before the full moon.

Rating: E Status: Complete

4. Under the Desk by immahorny

Tonks pays Lupin a visit at Hogwarts. What will happen. AU - Remus is still a teacher when they have an established relationship Book 6 . ***CAUTION: HEAVY SMUT. RATED M FOR A REASON. DON'T LIKE DON'T READ***

Rating: M Status: Complete

5. Phantom Touch by Fleshisonlyflesh

Dora is unable to sleep, and her fantasies of a certain werewolf cause her to find a way to relax...

Rating: E Status: Complete

General/Romance

1. First Meeting and She’s a Piece of Work by firetoflame

He doesn't even know her, not really, and somehow she's ended up with his wand. He thinks maybe next time he'll listen when Sirius tells him his cousin is a real piece of work.

Rating: G Status: Complete

2. Remus, Interrupted by Tonkswyrda

Sirius likes to interrupt people when they're in the middle of things.

Rating: K Status: Complete

3. Things Sirius Black Cannot Unsee by HecateA

In which Sirius doesn't know how to knock, sees something he shouldn't have, and can't keep it to himself—especially not during a very serious Order meeting. Oneshot.

Rating: T Status: Complete

4. Pluto by bikelock28

A series of Lupin/ Tonks one-shots. Canon universe. Ch84 now up. "Did you send him away, Professor? Or did he ask to go?".

Rating: T Status: In-Progress (last updated on 12/18/20)

5. Girlish Giggle by failuretoland

Sirius could always tell when Remus had an enjoyable evening, and he had a bad habit of announcing it to anyone who would listen.

Rating: G Status: Complete

6. The Dawn Patrol by aegle

Mundungus Fletcher resents being dragged to Yorkshire by Remus and Tonks. He laments.

Rating: T Status: Complete

7. On First Impressions by cafei-au-lei

"'You know,' Sirius said, 'it's kind of funny. For someone who thinks Remus is so annoying, you sure can't seem to stop talking about him.'" A series of moments in Remus and Tonks' developing relationship as they get to know each other and learn that maybe first impressions aren't necessarily everything. OOTP. Oneshot.

Rating: T Status: Complete

8. Tuesday by Moreofaguestage

“Sure, Okay let's go get married” Tonks replied brightly. “Where do people get married at 8pm on a Tuesday evening?”

Rating: G Status: Complete

9. Find Us in a Week by myscribblinquill

Tonks' new case is different to those she's had before. First off, there's no crime to solve, all she has to do it collect information on the mark and pass it along to her client. But the problem is there's nothing to pass along, he's so boring and yet, somehow, Tonks can't stop following him.

Rating: G Status: Complete

10. Dora by notoriously

Meetings with the Order are long and boring, and Don't-Call-Me-Nymphadora Tonks doesn't do long and boring. She takes some time out of her duties to carefully consider Remus Lupin, and he quite-significantly-less-carefully considers the name that leaves his mouth when addressing her.

Rating: G Status: Complete

#remadora fanfic recs #hp fanfic recs #remadora #its finally done #thank god this took forever for me to do haha #i will make a seperate one for the holidays

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years

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Byleth: *watches her dad who according to this fic was the best dad ever get brutally murdered, is left to experience that trauma on her own, is basically told to "suck it up buttercup" by Edel, is sent into a black void to wander endlessly until the end of her days, only escapes after having to part from the goddess who was her steadfast companion* Eagles: *cricket noises* Byleth: *decides to spend more time with the Church folk who actually fucking talk to her* Eagles: *surprised Pikachu meme*

Honestly kinda shocked at just how like. Bad, everyone is. Everyone is just a horrible person - or, more charitable though meaner, incredibly stupid - who's incapable of seeing anyone else's pain but their own.

Ashe was suffering during Lonato - better never actually check up on him! It's enough to just make sure he's off the mission, can't actually go and see if he's holding up okay (#ClaudeIsRight). Sylvain was suffering during Miklan - better scold him for behaving badly because of it! Really, he was being selfish, couldn't he see how much he was inconveniencing Ingrid (#DimitriIsRight)? We already know how everyone's pain is actually Edelgard's in disguise, of course. We conveniently take the camera off of Seteth and Flayn during their emotional paralogue unless it's to make Seteth look bad and them both look suspicious - better not actually let them be the focus of their own story. Byleth is acting strangely after two hugely traumatic events - how inhuman of her! Doesn't she know that the Black Eagles don't like her acting a certain way? And so on and so forth

This story never really explores other characters' pain when it comes up - Edelgard swoops in and says she "understands" it, and it gets promptly pushed to the side. Like, with Sylvain and Miklan, it wasn't Sylvain doing most of the talking about how he felt about what he's going through, we barely got any insight into how Sylvain felt; Edelgard and Ingrid just kinda turned his pain into being about them, actually, with the guy barely getting more than a half-hearted attempt at comfort after the attention was already taken off of him. That's been the prevailing pattern when it comes to discussing pain in this fic, honestly. There's barely any introspection from the character actually going through the tough time presently, it usually goes back into how someone else - almost always Edelgard - felt about something kinda similar that happened to them in the past.

Of course, the one exception to this is Edelgard; her pain gets to be completely hers, with others giving their sympathetic listening ear and comforting words and gestures to make sure that she feels that little bit better than before. Or, rarely, you'll get someone genuinely opening up to her, in an attempt to make her not feel alone. As in, they actually talk about their pain to her and don't just say they vaguely "understand" her; that cringey Stones to Abbigale scene in Chapter 21 has Byleth do this for Edelgard, telling her about the scar on Byleth's chest (that exists at least for the purposes of this fic) that she was told by Jeralt to never tell anyone. She breaks the rule her beloved father told her never to break in order to comfort Edelgard (which in any other fic, with any other characters, might have actually been somewhat moving). It is not often that that - genuine empathy - is given to anyone else, and of course Edelgard is one of the few people who receive it.

It's just so baffling that an author can make their own characters that they're writing look this bad and have it be completely unintentional. You lay it out so simply nonnie; oh wow, I wonder why Byleth is preferring to be with the Lettuce Fam! Maybe it's because they're actually talking to her? Actually engaging with her? At the absolute minimum, Flayn would be treating Byleth as a person and not some inhuman thing like that Black Eagles apparently saw her as. And this is during a time where Byleth was going through some rough fuckin' shit, all while those she thought were close to her sat back and watched her life get fuckin' ruined and did nothin' to help her.

Look. Maybe I'm jumping the gun right? Maybe this'll be explained in a bit - I stopped at Chapter 35, which ends right after Byleth makes her choice to protect Edelgard. Maybe once Edelgard and Byleth reunite with the rest of the Black Eagles their shitty behavior towards her will be addressed. But, like. Damn man

#ask #anon #o captain my captain #exqueuese me princess #everyone's an asshole and I hate it here

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kryzobi-wan · 3 years

Text

Dancing in the Dark

"What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?"

---

Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey <3 Completely self-indulgent Reylo angst and fluff. Plus a little slow dancing 🥲

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN

Ben Solo had learned what it meant to be lonely. Growing up surrounded by droids instead of family taught a kid that particular lesson pretty quickly. Still, that aching longing for human connection never quite left him, even after so many years of immersing himself in the cool, unfeeling darkness in hopes that it would drown out that part of himself. He had everything he had ever wanted, he tried to convince himself. Power, control, strength… it should have been enough.

But that flicker of light—of warmth—within him that he never could quite get rid of felt like the piercing, burning bite of a lightsaber wound on his flesh. If the light was supposed to bring comfort and peace, then why did its presence hurt so much?

After his solitary childhood and early adulthood, it shouldn’t have been possible to feel any more lonely than he already did. Then she had come crashing into his life, entangling their respective destinies in a mess of unacceptable feelings and emotions, and leaving Kylo more unbalanced than he had ever been since joining the First Order. Her light had illuminated the truth of every crude approximation of connection Kylo had forged over the years in his chosen place of belonging. Where once the officers of the First Order, the Knights of Ren, even Hux, had provided some semblance of stability and companionship, he now saw them for what they were: hollow, resentful beings who couldn’t care less if he lived or if he died.

For a few brief moments he had thought that Rey might fill the gaping hole this realization left in the very depths of his soul. How naïve that had been. Now she had left him, scorned him, and he was truly on his own, with not even the sickening but constant presence of Snoke to keep him company.

Weeks passed. Hux had finally stopped reprimanding Kylo for his failure on Crait, and in fact hadn’t spoken to him in days, leaving him without even that sense of consistency. In the quiet isolation of his chambers, the weight of his father’s death at his hand finally settled firmly on his shoulders. With Snoke gone, his recollection of that fateful moment came with a different kind of clarity that was most unwelcome. This kind of introspection was dangerous, and he did his best not to entertain it. But he was weak. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to those peaceful moments in his childhood—as rare as they were—where for just one moment he thought his parents might really care, that he wasn’t truly alone. The ache of soured happiness came attached with those memories, now that he had been disillusioned from their lies.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he had once believed in the beauty of the galaxy. Ben—Kylo—remembered a time when the stars seemed brighter, the air more pure and refreshing. When he could feel the bubbling of joy and frivolity in his chest, giving him the sensation of weightlessness as he passed through life ignorant of how truly alone he was.

Oh, how he longed for that beauty.

He had always been drawn to such things. The artful strokes of calligraphy, flowing from the tip of his pen. The feeling of soft, green grass between his fingers, and the touch of cold, crisp water on his toes. The gentle lilt of music playing somewhere in the distance, the tune floating through his bedroom window as he closed his eyes in sleep.

What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?

There was no such thing. Kylo Ren could never be worthy of it. Every beautiful thing he touched met its end sooner or later. He was poison to it, so fundamentally contrary to everything it stood for that it could be corrupted by his mere presence.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Rey had closed their connection. Since that moment on Crait when she looked down on him in his defeat, he had only seen her a handful of times, and only long enough for her to scowl at him and shut him out.

So he was alone. As usual.

Wandering the halls of the new flagship star destroyer, Kylo was acutely aware of this fact. Some days were worse than others, but this was bad as it got. Something inside him was begging for someone—anyone—to see him. To remind him that he wasn’t just some ghostly apparition with no corporeal form.

Not a single passing trooper or officer acknowledged him.

Perhaps it was his own fault. After all, you can’t have both the fear of your subordinates and the good opinion of them. He had chosen what made sense for the leader of an army, and he refused to consider any other option. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He did what he had to do.

As it turns out, it’s lonely to be the one on top of the pyramid.

Kylo passed by a group of stormtroopers, his cape billowing behind him. They seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps one of them had received a promotion or passed a particularly difficult round of training. They patted each other on the back, excitedly chattering in low whispers about whatever it was that spurred this reaction. Despite the armor and helmets, he could see the camaraderie they shared. They were happy.

That was enough to trigger another episode.

They were coming more frequently now. It was different than his bursts of anger and violence, where he could reach some sort of catharsis by tearing apart his immediate surroundings with the slash of his fiery weapon. This kind of attack did quite the opposite, causing him to shut down completely, barely able to move or speak until he could manage to calm himself down to an acceptable level. His breathing quickened and he was forced to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

Kylo sucked in a deep breath as he willed the prickling of tears in his eyes to go away. He felt exposed without his mask. His traitorous expressive face betrayed every emotion that he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He couldn’t let his subordinates see this weakness, or he’d be ousted by a mutiny before the end of the day cycle. No, he had to get away before he went catatonic. Stumbling and suddenly dizzy, Kylo made his way toward his chambers. The lights on the walls and ceiling swirled in his vision like the flash of stars through hyperspace, and it was all he could do to remain upright as he burst into his quarters and shut the door behind him. Immediately upon entering, he ripped his cape and the outer layer of his tunic off, feeling suffocated by them. Removing his heavy boots, he focused on the chill of the cold durasteel floors seeping through his dark socks, connecting him to his surroundings.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned out the lights and collapsed onto the nearest chair, resting his head atop his knees, and clasping his hands behind his head as he tried his best to stop trembling. He allowed the quiet darkness to envelop him like a blanket, hiding the tears as they streamed from his eyes.

Whenever this happened, it felt as if the air around him was pressing inwards as it slowly crushed him. He needed something real, something physical to ground him. No matter how tightly he clutched at his own body, how much he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stem the flow of tears, it was not enough. The pain radiated outward from himself. It was as if he were a bomb threatening to explode at any moment, at which point he would cease to exist entirely. He could be floating in the lifeless vacuum of space for all that he felt. There was nothing to hold him together.

Completely and utterly alone.

He was well-practiced by now in self-treating these sudden attacks. It may take several minutes, but eventually he would be able to breathe out one last shuddering breath and still the shaking in his shoulders and knees. The floor stilled beneath him, and he no longer felt like his screams were trapped inside his body, begging to be let out.

All he felt in the wake of an episode like this, was numb.

He stared tiredly at the floor, now propping his head up on his hands as exhaustion flooded his body.

It was frustrating, feeling so out of control of one’s emotions. Despite the fact that his master was now dead and gone, he could still feel the disappointment he would have had in his apprentice. The words Snoke would have said echoed through his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. You are too unstable. The darkness will reject you. Your emotions cause you to fail. Everyone who ever claimed to care about you threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them.

Perhaps he had been projecting a little when he said those last words to Rey.

As if his thoughts had caused it, he suddenly felt the familiar shift in the Force that signaled the start of a connection. The rumbling sounds of his ship faded into a comfortable silence that was, for once, welcome in the aftermath of his anxiety attack.

He breathed out a sigh of relief before opening his bleary eyes and lifting his head slightly to peer about his room. She was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to stand to go look for her, Rey appeared in his doorway, looking irritated and disappointed as usual as her eyes settled on him. She promptly turned with a huff and disappeared from view as fast as she had come, though the connection remained open.

“Rey, wait,” Ben (because he was always Ben during these connections) called out to her before she could shut him out. He stood abruptly, rushing to stand in the doorway. She stilled, her back to him and apparently awaiting his next words before she decided to leave him anyway or not. “Please don’t go,” he hated how fragile the words sounded as they escaped his lips.

Rey let out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Panic began to rise in Ben’s stomach again as he felt Rey start to force the connection closed. “Stay! Please, just for a few more moments,” he said desperately. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He wanted to pretend just for a little while that he wasn’t alone. Once he regained his stability, she could leave if she wanted. He just needed someone for a few minutes to keep him from falling apart.

As if she could sense this, she turned to face him, setting her jaw firmly as she stared at him with caution behind her eyes. Relief flooded his veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out with one hand and clutched Rey’s arm, using it to keep himself upright. She didn’t move a muscle, though she stared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. He bowed his head, breathing deep, calming breaths in and out.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment.

Rey nodded once but said nothing. Her silence had become the usual ever since Crait, and as much as it pained him, he was grateful that this time she at least acknowledged his existence.

Once upon a time, she had told him he wasn’t alone. That had meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same things to her. He just wanted to feel like he did in that moment. When they had touched hands, he felt a flutter of happiness and a spark of hope that he never thought he’d feel again. He saw a flash of beauty, like something had peeled back the dark shroud that obscured his view of the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could be happy with her. That neither of them would ever have to be alone for the rest of their days.

Ben’s eyes flashed up to where his gloved hand met her skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a chill running up his spine. He lost himself in the feel of human contact, nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation after so long without it. Perhaps the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down was that layer of leather still between them.

Slowly, as if he were not even in control of his own movements, his other hand gingerly brushed against the same arm, inspecting the fresh scar there. His hands were trembling as they traced the contours of her arm, down, down, down to her hand where they stopped, cradling her fingers with the softest touch.

“Ben?” Rey finally spoke, breaking him out of his entranced state. He looked up to her, tears pooling in his eyes once more. His hand instinctively tightened around hers.

“Will you dance with me?”

His words were unexpected. There was something about being there, with her, that made him wish more than ever for the things of beauty in this galaxy. They seemed to have reached a temporary truce, considering the fact that Rey hadn’t ripped her hand away from his yet. He couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Rey asked incredulously. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Ben began to feel the tug of her hand against his, hesitating but wanting to let go.

“I just—” Ben stepped closer, patting her hand lightly with one of his and bowing his head again to look only at their hands rather than her face. He shook his head in disappointment with himself as it became clear that he didn’t have the words to articulate what he was trying to say.

I need you, he finished in his mind, but Rey seemed to hear it loud and clear. Her eyes softened, though a hint of hesitation remained.

“Okay.”

Ben’s gaze snapped back to hers, his mouth parted slightly in surprise that she had actually said yes. Something like nervousness or excitement fluttered in his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He nodded, speechless and blurry-eyed, and dropped her hand long enough only to remove his dark gloves, casting them carelessly on the floor. When he stepped into her space again, the corners of his trembling lips teased the smallest hint of a smile, which was reflected in his widened, somehow younger-looking eyes.

Slowly, in his disbelief that this was really happening, Ben scooped up each of her hands in his own, clutching them to his sweater-clad chest. There was no music, but the beating of their hearts seemed to be amplified in the space that stretched between them and their bond. It was the only sound they could hear, aside from the shaky breaths each was breathing in anticipation for this new closeness, this tender moment.

Rey moved one hand to Ben’s shoulder, allowing him to wrap his arm around her. His palm splayed across her back, reveling in the feeling of her textured taupe-colored wrappings on his fingertips. Electricity sparked where their hands met, and he saw it again. A vision of beauty. Togetherness. The rightness of it all.

He pulled her in close, resting his cheek against her silky brown hair and closing his eyes to soak in the peacefulness of the moment as they began to sway. Fresh tears trailed down his cheek, mingling with her hair. She hesitantly leaned her head into his chest and brought her hand up to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking it comfortingly. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, exactly why he had asked her to stay. Could she really see through him that easily? Or was the bond stronger than they thought? If so, what could that mean?

He knew who she was. She was a nobody, right? Then why did she feel like everything to him?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

They danced, in the calming darkness of the night. Peace washed over Ben Solo, evening his breathing to quiet, content breaths. There were so many things he wanted to say; confessions he needed to get off his chest, apologies, explanations… but nothing could get past the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with looking out the viewport behind Rey, taking in the majesty of the stars beyond. Long ago, he had lost the sense of wonder and awe he used to feel when immersed in the view of open space. The endless black expanse began to feel empty and cold. It reflected his own loneliness back at him.

How had he missed the numerous stars and planets that dotted the sky? They shone brightly, their warmth reminding him that there would always be life, hope, and a future—beyond.

Skywalker… Ben heard an unfamiliar voice, gravelly but laced with amusement. Still looking to the horizon…

The world around them had disappeared. The two swayed and twirled amidst the infinite vastness of space, and Ben felt weightless, like they were floating through the galaxy without a single worry or care. There was no Resistance, no First Order, no Jedi, and no Sith. There was only Rey, and the stars that illuminated her glistening eyes.

That same sense of awe, the hope and contentment of his boyhood innocence, filled his heart with every brush of her hand against his, every time their eyes met, the beating of her heart next to his own…

Rey pulled back a few inches, enough that she could tilt her head back to study his face. The hand he was holding in his dropped before she placed it on his other shoulder, her hands firmly but gently gripping them. If Ben were told that her touch was the one thing keeping him from shattering into a billion pieces, literallyholding him together, he would believe it without question. Her fingers tangled in the loose fabric of his thin sweater, rubbing soft circles over his skin. It was a comfort he was not used to, a balm for the crawling discomfort of starvation from human contact which he had felt for so long.

His eyes fluttered closed and he could scarcely breathe. They continued to sway as Ben moved his free hand up to Rey’s face, experimentally trailing his fingertips over her skin with a touch so light, she might not have even noticed had she not been so in tune with what he was feeling.

When he opened his eyes again, he observed her image through his lashes, unbothered by the sadness or pity she held for him in her eyes. He did not care what thoughts or emotions kept her here, he was just glad that she was.

In his exploration of the contours of her face, his hand brushed against a stray piece of her hair, drawing his intense focus away from her soft skin. He held it lightly between his thumb and forefinger in fascination and wonder, tousling it gently before following the path of her hair to the three buns at the back, which he threaded between his fingers.

Following his lead, Rey cupped a hand over his jaw, setting his nervous system ablaze. It was almost too much to handle. His head dipped forward until his forehead was practically touching hers, all the while they continued to sway. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, mere inches separating their lips from each other’s.

Before the situation could slip any further out of Ben’s control than it already had, Rey pulled back, her body stilling as she stared at him as if in study. His arms felt suddenly empty, but the sharp pain of loneliness from earlier had faded to a dull ache. He no longer felt like he was at risk of imploding, which was a relief to his tormented soul.

Eyes meeting hers, he silently conveyed his gratefulness for what she had done, finding words to be insufficient. He worked his jaw absentmindedly as his gaze flicked over her features, trying to gauge what she might be thinking in that beautiful mind of hers.

Without warning, she rushed forward and enveloped him in her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. The embrace was as short as it was sudden, but it was like heaven coming down to him. He had barely managed to reciprocate the action before she released him and stepped back, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Her voice came back in little more than a whisper, and he thought he saw a tear escape from the corner of her eye. “I understand,” was all she said, her jaw firmly set in that look of determination that Ben was so used to seeing.

And maybe she did.

Of all the people in the universe, Rey would know the heartache of loneliness better than anyone. All those years alone, waiting for the return of those who could never come back… Maybe she needed this as much as he did.

Rey stared intently into his eyes, and it felt like she was able to see directly into his soul. She nodded, perhaps in answer to his line of thinking. Perhaps it was just a gesture to reassure Ben that everything would be okay. Either way, he felt a part of himself melt away under the influence of her light, leaving him with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever felt.

With that, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, disappearing without consequence.

Ben breathed out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, stumbling backwards to his couch to think. The ghost of her touch on his skin remained, and it brought him a lasting comfort.

He should have felt scared, or worried, that his mortal enemy knew his vulnerabilities and sorrows so intimately, but he wasn’t. He had shared with her a moment of beauty and of happiness, and something about it told him it would be a significant turning point in the story of the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he could have sworn that he felt her gentle touch on his forehead, brushing through his dark wavy hair in comforting strokes. Tender words of encouragement graced his ears, and whether they were real or imagined, he took them to heart.

He dreamed.

Of the cool, still waters of a lake.

The light of the moon reflecting on its glassy surface.

The velvety blackness of the night sky,

Decorated with the pinpricks of diamonds glittering from above.

And the mountains,

Standing strong and steadfast in the distance,

A friendly shadow on the horizon.

He dreamed.

The woman in his arms,

Illuminating the world around her,

Her light shining like the sun,

Her smile a warm glow that nurtured his soul.

And he danced.

-.-.-

Comments greatly appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed! Much love, Reylos <3

#Reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #star wars #star wars tlj #post star wars tlj #ben solo #touch starved ben solo #kylo ren #ben solo x rey #ben solo cries a lot #rey #rey nobody #rey from nowhere #rey from jakku #pov ben solo #reylo dancing #my fanfic

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arrow-guy · 4 years

Text

The Lighthouse (9/??)

Summary: The town is sleepy, the people are nice enough, but life gets turned upside-down when the God of Thunder literally falls out of the sky.

A/N: Hello, hello, time for more of our regularly scheduled Q+A where we ask some questions and get some answers, but never the ones we want. I swear we’re getting to the meat of things, but we have to go through all of this before we get to it, This being the filler stuff that happens before we can get to the real action. That being said, I’m really happy with what I’m putting out today, so please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ThorxReader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None

Part 8

"So…okay, so what you're saying is Asgard is gone, this Thanos guy attacked the ship, and you're the only one who got away?"

"Yes."

"But how?"

“What is it you humans say… a magician never reveals his tricks?”

I scowl. “You’re no magician, and that couldn’t have been a simple trick. How did you get away, if Heimdall didn’t send you himself?”

He sighs. “I used the Tesseract.”

“That stupid thing everyone was fighting over in New York all those years ago?”

“And here I was, thinking Earth had forgotten about that.”

“How could we forget an alien invasion?” I shake my head. “A literal alien invasion, and you just expect us to forget about it. Maybe you really are crazy.”

“Forget about New York for now. The Cube itself hides a very powerful object,” Loki explains. “It’s called the Space Stone, and it allows whoever wields it, provided they can withstand its power, to travel through space at will.”

“So you used it to get away before whatever happened messed with everyone’s heads?”

“Yes, but Heimdall was able to send one man off before anything happened.”

“Who?”

“Bruce Banner.”

“Wait, he was with you?”

“He was.”

“Then we have to get in contact with the Avengers!” I exclaim “If he’s earth-side, they would know.”

“Are you mad?” He shakes his head. “You can’t really believe they’d help, knowing that I have anything to do with this.”

“You didn’t cause this.”

“Not directly. But I’m involved.”

“So is Thor.”

“And so are you,” he says. “They don’t even know you.”

“I don’t know if that’ll work for us or against us in this situation.” I pause. “What the hell do you mean you aren’t directly involved? You were on that ship and you’re the only one who remembers what happened!”

“But it wasn’t my fault this time!”

“In what world does being involved mean that you’re at fault?” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “At any rate, any kind of alien anything falls under the purview of the Avengers.”

Loki scowls. “You’re not going to drop this.”

“Why would I?” I shake my head. “I said I’d help, and taking this to someone who actually can is obviously part of that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“(Y/N?)” Thor croaks.

I don’t hesitate in shuffling over to him. He reaches out to me and takes my face in his hands. His eyes are filled with tears and his face is red and splotchy. He looks me over, almost as if he’s trying to decide if I’m real.

“I’m here,” I murmur. “It’s okay to let go.”

His bottom lip wobbles and he gathers me up in his arms and carefully holds me to his chest. I manage to wriggle my arms out of his hold and wrap one around his shoulders. I comb my fingers through his hair and slowly rock him from side to side as his entire body begins to shake with the force of his sobs.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whisper. “You’ve lost so much… I’m so sorry, Thor.”

“There was so much,” he whispers.

“I know.”

He balls up big handfuls of my shirt and takes a deep, shaking breath. I sit and hold him until he can calm down. Loki doesn't even shift from his spot behind me, but it does little to put me at ease.

"That was a lot to take in at once," I murmur. Thor nods against my shoulder and I kiss the side of his head. "How about we get you upstairs? You can get some rest and process what you saw."

"I don't know…"

"I'm sure Daisy could be persuaded to come cuddle with you."

"I…" he sighs. "Alright."

It takes a moment for him to haul himself to his feet, but he allows me to lead him towards the door. I can feel Loki's eyes on us the entire time and it makes my skin crawl.

Once out in the hall, I call out to Daisy and she comes bounding up the stairs.

"That's a good girl!" I pat her side and she brushes up against Thor's leg. "Upstairs, Daisy lady, let's go."

She turns and does as she's told. By the time Thor and I make it up the stairs, she's situated herself on top of the covers. Her eyebrows perk up when she sees us and her tail thumps against the duvet. Thor lowers himself to the edge of the bed and tugs me down into his lap. He wraps his arms around me and presses his nose to my shoulder. The angle is awkward and I can't embrace him the way I was able to earlier.

"I'm so sorry," he says.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You're overwhelmed and mourning a sister you never knew you had, your father, your home. I… I don't know how you're feeling, but I know that it's more than anyone should have to go through on their own."

"He told you?"

I nod. "Everything. I know what happened on Asgard and on that ship. I-I am so sorry, honey. I wish there had been a better way for you to find out."

"I needed to know."

"That's true, but," I lean away and push his hair out of his eyes. "I don't like seeing you in pain." He opens his mouth and I press my fingertips to his lips. "I know you were bound to get hurt at some point while we're together. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon and to feel so… so helpless when it did."

I press my lips together to stop myself from saying anything else. Thor opens his mouth, but thinks better of what he was going to say and simply repositions me so that I can actually hug him. He loops my arms around his shoulders and circles his around my middle. He kisses me in an attempt to reassure me and I rest my forehead against his when we pull away.

"I don't seek out pain," he says, carefully choosing his words. "But it always seems to find me. I've lost so much, just in the last few years. I don't want to lose you too. I don't want to drive you away with my past."

"You won't. We're partners in this relationship." I lean back to meet his eyes and smile. "That means a lot of things, and one of them is dealing with each other's crazy."

"My crazy far outweighs yours, (Y/N)."

I shrug. "Mine is getting up there. I mean, I live alone in a lighthouse, was magically prompted to wander out into the woods to find a god, promptly fell for said god, started learning magic and looking for his brother and then dragged him out of the house in the middle of the night to literally go dig him up."

Thor laughs. "Still."

"On a human level, all of that sounds absolutely nuts, no matter how you swing it."

He nods. "That's true."

I smile and peck him on the lips. "You need to rest."

"What will you do?"

"I have to keep an eye on Loki. He doesn't know where he is. I'm sure he has questions."

"I don't know how I feel about you being alone with him."

"I'm not helpless."

"He has a silver tongue and he's manipulative. As much as I care about my brother, I know that he's not exactly trustworthy."

"Okay," I get to my feet and silently coax Thor into laying down. "If anything, and I mean anything weird happens, I'll come get you immediately."

He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. "I don't know-"

"Thor, I'm an inch away from knocking you out myself." I pull the blankets up to his chin when he protests again and direct Daisy to lay across his chest. He shakes his head and tries to hide his smile. "Sleep. We'll be here when you're ready."

"Alright."

"Okay."

I stoop down and kiss his forehead before leaving the room.

When I return to the bedroom, Loki is exactly where I left him. I lean in the doorway and fold my arms.

“You hungry?” I ask.

His head shoots up. “What?”

I jerk my head towards the hallway. “Come on. I’ll make us some tea.”

He follows me downstairs and hovers while I put the kettle on and place peppermint tea sachets in mugs. I catch him folding his arms and glancing around out of the corner of my eye.

“Spit it out,” I say.

“What?”

“I can see that you want to say something.” I turn and lean against the counter. “So say it.”

His brow furrows. “You really care about him.”

“He’s my partner. Of course I care about him.”

“I see.”

“What’s your problem with me, anyway?” I tilt my head to the side. “Is it because I’m human?”

“Partially.”

“And the rest?”

“I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen it.” He scowls. “I’m not with him because he’s a god. Thor is a good man. He’s kind and intelligent and gentle. Most of all, he’s patient with me.”

Loki snorts. “The last thing I’d associate with my brother is patience.”

“I can’t say he’s patient in the day to day. I mean, everything is so fragile and fleeting on our planet, it’s easy to get frustrated. But, he’s patient with me.” I shake my head. “I don’t see why you’d be worried about him, though. From what I know about you, you’re not particularly concerned with that sort of thing.”

“I’m allowed the occasional change of heart, am I not?”

“I don’t know.” The kettle comes to a boil and I wait for the bubbles to calm before pouring water into each mug. “Are you?”

He stares me down and only answers when I hand him his mug.

"I'm not sure," he admits. "It's something I'm still sorting out for myself."

"I see. Well, I guess that's all I can ask of you, right? A little introspection never hurt anyone."

He falls silent and I take that time to drain the sachet and add a packet of sweetener to my tea. I blow across the surface of the tea before taking a sip and immediately regretting it. I ask him if he takes any sweetener in his tea and he shakes his head.

“I wonder if I might ask a few questions,” he says.

“Such as?”

“Where are we?”

“A little no-name town on an inlet in Maine.” I lead him to the living room and gesture to the stairs. “I live in and operate the lighthouse.”

“And you truly speak with Heimdall?”

“Mhm.” Charles jumps up into my lap when I sit on the couch. He places his paws on my chest and tries to put his face in my tea. “Not for you, bud. It’s hot.”

He tried again and I pushed him off. He made a little indignant noise and nosed at my hand.

“Who’s this?” Loki asks.

“This is Charles.” Charles doesn’t take his eyes off the mug and I sigh. “You can’t have the tea, dude. What kind of mother would I be if I let you burn yourself?”

“He seems like a handful.”

“Believe it or not, the handful is curled up with your brother upstairs.” I scowl at Charles. “Would you just sit down?”

I set the mug on the end table and scratch up and down his sides. His back arches and he rubs his face against my cheeks. I scrunch up my face and wait till he’s finished. He eventually settles in my lap and I sigh and grab my tea.

“You can take a seat too,” I say, gesturing for Loki to sit.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch and sips his tea. “You said something about someone with Thor?”

“Right. My dog, Daisy, is keeping him company.” I laugh when his brows pinch together. “He’s her absolute best friend. She follows him all around the house.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, I didn’t answer your question earlier.” I took a big gulp of my cooling tea and set it to the side. “Yes, I do talk to Heimdall. I’m the only one who he’s been able to contact since Thor crash landed a few months back.”

“Odd.” He leans forward and tilts his head to the side. “And how did you discover your magic?”

“My family has a history with magic. My father said an aunt of mine actually had magic and he kept a set of protection runes around in case we needed them. Heimdall theorized that my magic is the reason he was able to contact me and no one else.”

Loki hums. “I see.”

“Heimdall did what he could to teach me how to control it, but magic for me is, I don’t know…” I gesture vaguely. “Kind of just this amorphous blob?”

“Then how do you contain it?”

“How do you mean?”

“Magic isn’t just something that you call on whenever you please, it’s all around you. How do you contain it?”

“Oh, uh…” I shrug. “It’s always just there. I used to get really tired when I tried to cast something, but it’s gotten easier.”

“Explain.”

“I was pulled into some kind of pocket where I was able to see Heimdall. He and I were able to work together to make a kind of magic circuit in order for him and Thor to speak. I practically fainted when that happened, but in the weeks it took to find you I was fine by comparison.”

His jaw clenches, but he simply nods and sips at his tea.

We sit in silence while we finish our drinks. Loki wanders back upstairs to the bedroom he woke up in and I start on making the shepherd’s pie I had planned for dinner. Once it’s in the oven, I go back to my office and finish what I can of the work I had been pulled away from when Loki woke earlier.

The smell of baking cheese eventually draws Loki out into the stairwell and he creeps down to the kitchen when I tell him dinner was ready. He disappears into his room as soon as he clears his plate. While packing up leftovers, I consider leaving out a portion for Thor, but decide against it. If he didn’t wake up for dinner, chances are slim that he’ll wake up for it later. Instead, I put the leftovers in the fridge and go upstairs to get ready for bed.

About an hour later, I crawl into bed and Thor rolls over and wraps his arms around me. With my back against his chest, I grab his hand and kiss his knuckles before settling against him. Charles curls up against my stomach and I eventually doze off.

--------

Part 10

Alright, so we’ve got more Loki and, unintentionally, more questions than answers, probably. Sorry! Everything will be answered in due time, I promise.

That being said, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter! Your feedback fuels my inspirations, which means more fic for you in the future, so comment, like, reblog, and/or shoot me an ask!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

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#thor odinsonxreader #readerxthor odinson #thor odinson x reader #reader x thor odinson #thorxreader #readerxthor #thor x reader #reader x thor #thor odinso #thor #the golden boi #reader insert marvel fic

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mythriteshah · 3 years

Text

The Valide’s Pride

WARNING: Upon clicking the read-more link below, several cutscenes will play in sequence. It is recommended that you set aside sufficient time to read these scenes in their entirety.

Furthermore, while this will reveal some major details regarding Thiji and the Regalia, some of the content disclosed within may be offensive for some audiences. As such, should you find yourself discouraged to continue, you may close this page/tab at any time and no dishonor shall be brought upon you.

Another moonlit night graces the Near East, though Menphina's light shone with a golden intensity as opposed to its usual silver luminescence. Save for the towers strewn about the land, all was relatively peaceful as the Telophoroi had been driven back yet again. Everyone is fighting tooth and nail for the salvation of the star - as they should. Should these ruinous portents continue, there would certainly be untold chaos engulfing the realm. With a reprieve finally in sight, the time had come to reflect and contemplate.

Upon the balcony within her azure and ivory chambers, Mimizo Higuri, Valide Sultan of the Higuri Regalia, stood in silence, a bladed fan obscuring the lower half of her face as she gazed upon the vast jungles of Thavnair which surrounded the city-state of Radz-at-Han. Her husband Fafastima slept soundly in his chambers, blissfully unaware that she was still up and about during so late a bell. One would suspect that something was weighing heavily upon her mind so that it was difficult for her to even rest. And sure enough, the Valide Sultan did indeed have some introspection of which to take care. Mimizo directed her gaze upward, towards the gilded moon which shone proudly against the night sky, drinking in the scenery of the sunless sea until she slowly closed her eyes. Her mind then whisked her away to a similar moment: she stood on that same balcony, gazing at the moon, though silvery, with her favored son, Thiji. They had been talking for a good half-bell, it seemed, discussing matters which pertained to the developments of the other lands. Nyra was perched upon a post, resting peacefully. Fafastima was absent in this scene, apparently returning from an excursion with the Wavetraders. It was then that they would hear a knock upon the door to Mimizo's chambers. "Enter," she promptly ordered. The double doors would open, revealing the beautiful platinum-blonde Dunesfolk of aqua eyes: Veeveena Veena, Higuri Regalia Main Branch Advisor. Her unannounced arrival surprised Mimizo and Thiji both, expecting Thiji's dear Angel to have been within the sweet surrender of sleep for at least two bells now. Wearing her evening gown along with the Periapt of Patience, she gave a curt bow before she crossed the threshold, hands folded at the front. An expression of sorrow was evident on her face, for her eyes seemed to have begun welling up... "Miss Veeveena..." Thiji greeted. "'Tis something the matter?" "Yes, My Sultan," the Advisor replied immediately as she came closer, stopping at the center of the chambers. "Something most certainly is." "Speak freely, dear," Mimizo followed. Though Mimizo was good at reading the hearts of particular individuals, she already knew what Veeveena was doing here. Nevertheless, she decided to play along. "No more, Valide..." Veeveena said, her head bowed low, hiding her tears, which had begun to shed as she spoke. "I cannot bear this anymore. The truth must be revealed!" "Miss Veeveena -" was all Thiji could get out before he would be interrupted by his Advisor. "Forgive me, My Sultan, but pray hear me and do not speak," Veeveena interjected. The Mythrite Sultan trusted his Angels - his Advisors especially - and complied, putting his arms behind his back, watching and listening intently to Veeveena. He - and his mothers - would expect a lengthy statement to be made. "I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive us, my lord, but your mother and I have been keeping a secret for some time now. We decided on a private ultimatum that you and I would be wed should you fail to find your Sultana by your thirtieth Nameday." Thiji's eyes went somewhat wide by this. Mimizo was taken aback that she had revealed their plan so far ahead of schedule. Veeveena's tears glinted like silver stars from her face before they stained the rug, desperately fighting back the urge to bawl. "I am... truly flattered, Miss Veeveena," Thiji began, "but you know of the policy put in place." "I do, My Sultan..." she replied. "However, I cannot suffer this any longer - and nor should you. This is not what Lady Mamai would want - may she rest peacefully in the Lifestream. She would want to see you happy, as would any of us who have been with you for many summers. And though I am your Apsara of Patience... even mine can run thin, and I will not deny my heart any longer." She revealed her tear-stained face, bright pink from her sobbing, before she stood ilms before her lord. Mimizo was shocked, to say the least, but beamed in eagerness to see this event play out in its entirety. She took a step back and spectated, placing her fan within her palm as she did. "I have had the pleasure of witnessing all the amazing feats and events you have done, my lord. You are truly a blessing to this realm, and anyone who thinks or says otherwise will meet the swift and brutal sentence of death by my hand, personally. Your dream - your ambition that is sweeter than any lassi or berry - of becoming a Sorceress' Knight - is so precious and touching that hearing of you ending it shattered many of us. You have been through loss after loss; trial after trial, and though you came out stronger as a result, you were never truly given the comfort you so rightfully deserve. It crushed me, watching you from afar, alone at night with naught an audience but the stars above as you cursed Menphina and Nymeia for conspiring against you since when first you arrived in Eorzea. I hated seeing you so distraught, and yet I sat and stood idly by: my beloved Mythrite Sultan, whom I have served with unwavering loyalty for many summers, suffering in silence. And yet all this time, you soldiered on, using your wealth and resources to bring smiles to the less privileged and destitute; uplifting the spirits of others with your presence, and establishing alliances which I know will transcend the test of time. You've hid this away for so long, and that smile on your face - the one you make when a project has come to fruition - is the one thing I loved seeing with each turn of the sun. But my heart cannot bear this burden any longer... I wish to see that smile more; I wish to see your dream come to fruition; I wish to see my Mythrite Sultan truly happy... " Veeveena then took Thiji's hands, placing hers on his as she stared at the Mythrite Sultan with a gaze and a countenance that could only be emulated by that of a lover's. Mimizo and Nyra - who had flew over to the former's side during Veeveena's speech - were moved by her words, though she still had more to say... "Which is why... if you'll have me, My Sultan, I will abdicate the position of Advisor, as well as my status as an Angel... to become your Mythrite Sultana." Nyra's eyes went wide - wider than normal for an owl - upon hearing her declaration. A quiet gasp was the only thing which escaped Mimizo's lips. As for Thiji, his gaze softened as a result - he knew Veeveena harbored feelings for him, but he was not aware of how passionate she was about his situation. The policy established by an agreement between himself and his Angels stated that he, under no circumstances whatsoever, was allowed to court his Angels in a romantic setting, or vice versa. Thiji means to deviate from the corrupted form of a harem, which alone earned him the respect of his peers and even his maidservants. With Veeveena's intent made clear, her abdication from being an Angel meant that she was no longer fettered by the stipulations heretofore placed. Thiji's eyes slowly moved to the left, thinking back to the countless suns where he had a vacant space beside him - a lone merchant-lord who disregarded his own shortcomings (Lalafell pun not intended) in order to bring joy and the enlightenment of high fashion to the realm. Though it was no small secret that the Higuri Clan was secure thanks to his brother and Umimi - along with having seven other siblings - he still bore the burden as the head of the Regalia. Everyone knew that Thiji was Mimizo's favored son - her greatest pride and joy - and it was a notion well-deserved. As a man of twenty-eight summers, he was definitely growing sick, tired, and even jaded by lonely days and lonelier nights. His only true companions were Glacius and Nyra - both of whom have already spawned progeny of their own. Everyone seemed to have been winning in this race, and Thiji has been left in the dust for quite a while. There may have been times where he did not care, but having someone near and dear beside oneself was truly an incredible feeling that could never be replaced. He turned his gaze back to Veeveena, tears still falling from her limpid aqua orbs, staring intently into Thiji's ice-blue-and-silver-white eyes. He sighed and shook his head, but not because he had intended to deny Veeveena, but as a sign of the lifting of his burden, like a ten-tonze weight finally being removed from his shoulders. Thiji would then direct his gaze towards Mimizo... "Mother," he spoke, "Inform the other Angels. They must know; they must come... And they must see their Sultana." "No need, Lord Thiji!" A voice was heard from within their ears. Apparently a linkpearl was active sometime before Veeveena's arrival. It sounded like Sesena's! "We're already en route to Radz-at-Han via airship to see our beautiful Veeveena become your betrothed! We're so happy for you both! Within the sennight, Veeveena Veena shall become the Mythrite Sultana! And don't worry - no one else but the Regalia will know of this. I like the gossip coming from people calling Lord Thiji the 'Mythrite Bachelor', so this marriage will be secret!" "Thank you, Miss Sesena," Thiji acknowledged before cutting the transmission. Mimizo was absolutely elated by this, her grin wide as she walked over to give them both a pat on the shoulder, leaving them both alone for now to make preparations for the coming wedding. Veeveena then fell into Thiji's arms, catching her in a loving embrace. She then whispered to him: "My Sultan... never again at night... shall you be welcomed by a cold and empty bed." Snapping back to the present, Mimizo gave a quiet sigh, the recollection causing some beads of sweat to fall from her brow. She fanned herself for a brief moment and made her way to the dresser, whereupon she gazed at a mythril-framed portrait of Thiji and Veeveena, happily married and brought into the family as her Daughter-in-Law. She smiled at this sight, proud of Veeveena's bold yet caring heart. Her efforts had finally bore fruit as her dearest firstborn would have a Sultana both strong and beautiful. A second time she would close her eyes and delve into the confines of her memory. This time, her mind's eye would show Veeveena in luxurious garbs befitting of a Sultana, resting upon the sofa where she spent many a bell beside Thiji during his moments of reflection. Another moonlit night upon Radz-at-Han, and Thiji was away tending to other matters in Eorzea. A blissful smile was bare on Lady Veeveena's face as she reclined in light slumber, before a voice was heard from amidst the shadows... "Sister. You're looking well already." Veeveena stirred from the voice, sitting upright to properly address this woman, whom was apparently her sister. Out from the shrouded chambers and into the silvery spotlight stood a Dunesfolk lady with hair and complexion to similar to Veeveena's, but with one distinction: her eyes were an emerald green. From afar, these two would seem identical, though this woman had a more stern look upon her face as opposed to Veeveena's smile-prone antics. She secured her platinum-blonde tresses with a bow and the excess dangled over her left shoulder. She was adorned in the ice blue dancer garbs of her people, but sported serrated daggers of purest mythrite holstered at her hips. "Veeveera," the Mythrite Sultana spoke, though softly. "Full glad am I to see you. I am sorry recent events had forced you out of hiding." "Think naught of it, Veena," she replied with a wave of her hand. "Someone had to fill the role of Advisor, and it only made sense that I'd return from my work in Uznair to take care of my elder sister." Veeveena giggled, rising from her seat to turn to Veeveera. The latter came to the former's side, bowing to her as she faced Veeveena. "House Higuri is secured - as is our house - thanks to you, Your Grace. You took well of our lord's seed, and have given birth to two strong and beautiful heirs - a son and a daughter both - for our Mythrite Sultan. Two pure Dunesfolk, as the Valide desired."

"I am merely happy to finally bring joy to my lord and love," Veeveena said back with a smile. "Though I am his wife, my duty to him still remains. Ours are souls yearning for battle, and now that I've experienced motherhood just as Lady Umimi, our savagery can only be amplified tenfold!" "Spoken like a true warrior, Veena," Veeveera acknowledged as she began pacing the floor. Still, I would not have it any other way - nor would Lady Mimizo. She would have been incensed beyond belief if our lord sullied his family's genes with any other race. And don't even get me started on those feral kittens and fragile lizards whose body structures are akin to that of twigs. Honestly, I do not see the appeal behind these tailed waifs. Being the traditionalists that we Dunesfolk are, the mere notion of hybrids is right out. Thavnair's nobles should not be tainted by such wanton, disgusting acts of interracial breeding..." "If it is any consolation, Veera," the Mythrite Sultana interjected, "Our lord has caught the eyes of many a courtesan, with the intent on bedding him! His charisma alone is a testament to the attention he is receiving as of late. Also, some of the other races are from Thavnair as well; are they not kin?" "Of that I am well aware..." Veera retorted with a sigh, arms crossed. "Whether they choose to have the honor and privilege of taking deep of our lord's seed and bearing his children is entirely up to them. The truth hurts, and if they wish to protest, they are more than welcome to see me personally. Though I cannot guarantee they will leave without a dagger or three in their throats. As for your latter question, Your Grace, I said nary a word regarding the origin of individuals. I was merely commenting on the principle of the overlying matter: copulation with other non-Lalafell, be they from Thavnair or otherwise, is frowned upon, regardless of it being... openly practiced in other areas of the realm. There is a reason we have none with tails within the Regalia’s employ. And to be quite honest, I pray it stays that way. Were it not for these recent events, the noble houses would not even be getting together to discuss the welcoming of adventurers." "Such venom, Veera... but I would be inclined to agree!" Veera exclaimed. "The Angels are so relieved to know that my Lord Thiji finally has progeny to carry on that beautiful man's legacy... He has suffered overlong - far, far overlong. Valide Sultan knew it, and still we hoped; still, we dared. But that is in the past, and we must move on from it, lest we be consumed and held back by it. Now all that matters is to ensure our children remain safe and secure Thavnair from the Telophoroi. I refuse to let my Sultan's beloved heirs meet a terrible fate. A repeat of the Nanago tragedy will not reoccur." "Hmph... that bitch," Veera seethed. "This is all her fault; good riddance to her. First she secretly indulges in contraceptives to deny our Sultan his rightful heirs, and on the eve she forgets them, she is at last with child, only for moons later to supplement her aether reserves and perishes out of existence, leaving behind only her Sorceress powers. An infanticide-suicide in one fell swoop... As if a good night's sleep and healthy meals would not have done the job just the same - if not better - than gorging oneself on the stored aether of Anima weapons." It was certainly clear as day that Veeveera was livid by all the misfortunes that befell Thiji to so passionately address them before her elder sister. She balled a fist in anger and turned sharply around towards the shadows, grumbling to herself. Veeveena simply laid a hand upon her sister's shoulder, giving her that Near Eastern sun smile. "I know, Veera... I know," she assured. "She wasn't worthy. Very few are. But this is the path he chose, and I feel he would gladly make his decisions again. His power has grown by leaps and bounds since he was but a lordling learning the ways of weaving and gemcraft. And now, here we are, at the crux of the Regalia's prosperity, whose golden age will now be extended with the introduction of Thiji II and Sesera. I am grateful to you for keeping me safe during my time in labor, and though I am still resting, I will be looking forward to the day I once again fight alongside Veeveera the Sanguine." "Good," Veeveera concurred. "I'd love to see just how much deadlier Veeveena the Visceral becomes now that she is a mother. But I've lingered overlong. I believe your husband is returning soon, and you've a bed to warm, sister. I'll return to the jungles in the meantime." Veeveera left with a before disappearing into the shadows, once more leaving Veeveena alone with her thoughts. She disrobed herself down to her smallclothes as she approached the bed, neatly placing her lehenga on a chair by the dresser. "Every eve, My Sultan, so long as I am your wife, you will know naught but bliss." Snapping back once more, Mimizo placed the portrait down upon the dresser, and directed her eyes to the mirror, finding Fafastima standing beside her with a smile. She turned around and greeted her husband with a soft hug and a gentle kiss upon the lips. "Dearest wife of mine!" he greeted, "You're still up?! What troubles you so? It is not like a Thavnairian jewel such as yourself to look so down!" "My beloved Fafa," sighed Mimizo, "I am simply... reflecting on all that has happened. I cannot help but feel guilty making our beloved boy wait so many summers when we could have simply arranged a joining with him and Veeveena. She and I wanted to cling to hope - hope that someone out there in Eorzea would fall in love with our son. But we should have known better." "Sweetheart! Don't be that way!" Fafastima interjected, lightly shaking her by the shoulders. "Mimi, I've never doubted your judgment! You've got a gift when it comes to matchmaking. I'm sure you just wanted to see if there were any worthier suitresses for our Thiji! Don't be so hard on yourself; he's powerful as all hells, a master of his craft, showing the realm at large the power of high fashion, and his charisma and philanthropy has given the Regalia so much exposure and adoration than I would ever dare to imagine! All the meanwhile you’ve groomed Veeveena to be the ideal woman and warrior our son deserves as a contingency! I've always been proud of our son, Mimi, and though I, too, wanted to see him with a pretty little something around his arm, he had other matters to attend, especially now that I passed on the reins to him!" These words gave Mimizo some comfort; she beamed at her husband before kissing his cheek. She definitely had no means of being so tough. "Be prideful, Mimi!" Fafastima urged triumphantly. "Our firstborn son made it! And we're officially grandsires! HAHA!" "Fafa... we've been grandparents thanks to Horu and Umimi," Mimizo retorted. "You know what I mean, love!" Fafastima returned. "But our Mythrite Sultan is coming home! Let's go for a stroll and meet him as we enjoy this well-earned victory while we can, yes? After all, there are still matters to attend regarding the other noble houses!" Mimizo responded with a nod as Fafastima stretched and got his sherwani ready. Mimizo slowly approached the balcony as she saw the sails of the Mythril Wavetraders on the horizon - Thiji was finally home. She unfolded her fan, returning to her original spot and kept her gaze fixed on the approaching vessels, still lost in thought...

"Everyone is going to miss you dearly, my son... When next they see you, it will be here, in Thavnair. I know our talks will succeed, and we will ensure that your secrets are well-hidden. You've endured far too much in this life, and at long last, you have what you so rightfully deserve. I cannot shake the guilt so easily, but it is but a flicker compared to the pride swelling within my breast. This realm may not be ready for you as you say... but it is definitely time for them to get ready. The Near East awaits our foreign allies... perhaps the peerless beauty of our land will serve as the perfect diversion for the Regalia. For after all, there is always Power... in Beauty."

#thiji higuri #Higuri Regalia #Lalafell #lalafell master race #short story #valide sultan #mythrite sultan #thavnair #hannish #radz at han #thavnairian

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pilot-boi · 4 years

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Blooming: Chapter Ten

The Fourth Time

Planting seeds during a lull in the tournament, and a little destiny related introspection

AO3 LINK

Jaune tucked the little paper bag of seeds into his pocket and went to find Pyrrha, because she’d had a meeting with the Headmaster earlier and hopefully it was done now. Even more hopefully it wasn’t anything serious.

Luckily he didn’t have to uproot the whole freaking school to find her, because that would be really pushing his luck with Goodwitch, even with how strangely understanding she was being. He found her under one of the Forever Fall trees that lined the courtyard, reading some thick book.

The kind bound in brown leather with golden letters for a title, and Jaune was pretty sure it was poetry, because Pyrrha was just like that.

Struck dumb for a moment at the sight of her sitting and looking so peaceful, with the leaves falling around her exactly the same shade as her hair, Jaune nearly forget what he was doing. She looked like a painting of a long revered hero, the kind that his mom would hang up from a yard sale and dust every day.

Once he remembered, he didn’t hesitate to disturb her peace and accepted no objections, real or fake, as he tugged her from the ground and dragged her along. It was obvious that Pyrrha was more curious and endeared than she was upset about being denied her reading time. She hadn’t really been focused enough to read anyway.

Jaune also refused to tell her what he was up to this time, aside from the fact that no, Nora was not in trouble. And no neither was he, seriously Pyrrha did you not trust him at all?

She did, but not when it came to not ending up neck-deep in chaos for more than ten seconds.

They took a detour to Professor Peach’s classroom closet, which Jaune knew well enough from having hid in it from Weiss’s wrath once. And Weiss had thankfully waited for him outside because she was a classy lady who had something against walking headfirst into dusty old cobwebs.

Jaune made Pyrrha wait outside as well, even though he knew full well she wouldn’t have the same hang ups. He was going to take any chance to extend this surprise that he could.

He eventually emerged with a gardening shovel and a watering can and refused to give Pyrrha either of them. Or tell her what they were for. Knowing Jaune’s reputation for seat-of-his-pants plans, he really hoped Pyrrha wasn’t guessing the obvious, considering that was exactly the plan.

Filling the watering can was yet another adventure that involved Jaune accidentally getting both of their shoes soaked. Pyrrha repaid him by cutting off his string of apologies with a laugh and a spritz of water in his face.

Watering can momentarily abandoned and then promptly kicked over on accident, Jaune yelped and thoroughly botched his escape.

When Jaune finally flopped down with a refilled watering can on the ground where he wanted to plant, Pyrrha sat next to him. Much more gracefully, he had to admit, but without any hesitation. “Jaune, what-”

“We’re gonna plant some flowers!” Jaune cut in excitedly, tugging the packet of seeds out from his pocket. It was a bit of a hassle honestly, because admittedly, he probably should’ve done that when he was still standing up.

He showed the packet to Pyrrha, who took it from his hand and just stared at it in silence for a while. A smile slowly spread on her lips until she shook her head very, very fondly, and Jaune was positively beaming.

“Oh, Jaune,” Pyrrha laughed, shaking her head a couple more times.

And maybe she sounded a little choked up, she wasn’t sure, but she felt choked up because gods damn it. Gods damn it, this idiot. This absolute wonderful idiot, who was really honestly wasn’t that dumb, because he was truly too smart for his own good.

And so, so kind. And for some stupid reason he insisted on spending all that kindness on Pyrrha of all people. And she just didn’t know how to handle that sometimes, that he really cared about her and not the Invincible Girl. She didn’t know how to show how much he meant to her, how to accept his kindness, how to give any of it back.

So she just dropped her head onto Jaune’s shoulder, nuzzling her forehead against him forcefully, until she felt Jaune stop tensing and his head come to a rest atop hers. And then they just sat there.

Her face was pushed into the cloth of his sweatshirt, and she was smiling and mumbling something that she hoped was an incredibly well thought out thank you. The packet of lily seeds was still clutched tightly in her hands.

In that moment she loved Jaune so much she felt like she forgot how to breath, discipline be damned.

They ended up getting mud on their clothes and even some on their faces and definitely much, much more on their hands. Dirt black crescents were under their nails and Pyrrha’s sweater was splotched with soil.

But it was fine, because it was fun. Pyrrha was terrible at gardening, not having much experience, but Jaune tried his best to draw on every last thing he remembered from his childhood. And lilies were resilient little creatures anyway, so it was fine.

And once they were done, the once pristine flower bed was torn up and muddy but the watering can was empty. And then empty again after an extra round of water, because they planted a lot of seeds.

They stayed sitting there on the ground side by side, the sun warm on their skin and their dirt-covered hands intertwined. This time Jaune was the one to drop his head onto Pyrrha’s shoulder, and from the way he leaned into her, the way his thumb traced back and forth against the back of her hand, she wondered if somehow he knew that she was suddenly feeling a tired, sad kind of dread.

Planting flowers was great until you started wondering if you’d ever see them sprout.

Lilies were resilient creatures, not unlike her, and she knew that. It wasn’t the weather or the quality of the seed that she was worried about. It was time. The time that she might not have much left of, anymore. After her meeting with the Headmaster, and the rest of them, and the Maidens, and the magic, she didn’t know how much time she had left.

Pyrrha could suddenly count on her fingers how many days she had left to live if things didn’t go to plan. Or maybe if they did go to plan, because she still didn’t know if the plan she was working off of matched up with theirs.

Jaune pressed his face into her hair then, saying things he wasn’t sure she heard much less believed. “You’re gonna be fine, kay? I don’t know what’s wrong… really, but I’m here to help. You’re gonna be fine.” A futile promise against her unknowable fate, but a promise he couldn’t help but make over and over, hoping that one day he wouldn't have to.

“And you-”

She tugged her hand out of Jaune’s, but he wrapped the arm around her instead, and he immediately squeezed her closer as he felt her start to cry.

This weird sort of crying that she’d undoubtedly learned at some point in her celebrity life. Her breaths steady and even but the rest of her shaking, with whines that got swallowed in her throat. She made up for her lack of sobs with endlessly flowing tears.

If she let herself cry normally, the mask she wore in public would shatter, and it occurred to Jaune for the hundredth time just how cruel that was.

“I really don’t know what’s wrong, but you can do this,” he reassured her, trying to keep the shake out of his voice because gods dammit he was trying to be the strong reliable one right now, voice don’t you dare betray him. He pressed a kiss to her head and set his chin on top of it. Pyrrha could feel his voice rumbling in his chest.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” And Pyrrha’s voice did hitch at that “I know you can do this.”

Pyrrha was scared, she was scared to die. But she was more scared to watch others die because she decided to make the wrong decision. She was scared to plunge headlong into this fight that wasn’t supposed to start yet.

She didn’t want to think about her upcoming decision, or the tournament fights that would precede it. And she really didn’t want to think about after either, because who knew who she would even be on the other side, if she made it at all. With her foreseeable life possibly being barely more than a week, she didn’t want to think about anything at all.

But then Jaune’s words made her think about training on the roof. And having to stop Nora from punching him awake in the middle of class after they trained too late. And this made her think of the way his expression then mirrored the affronted look he’d worn during their first bout of the tournament when they’d teased him about the team attack names.

And for a moment, she almost laughed. But then her thoughts drifted forward to the vault, and the conversation there, and she was back to being terrified.

“After,” he started, and even despite all his effort he definitely one hundred percent sounded like he was crying. “After we’ve won the tournament” And because that wasn’t touching close enough to his actual question, he added, “What are you gonna do?”

He wished he was as focused on just winning as he tried to make himself sound. Wished that his entire world wasn’t hanging on what Pyrrha’s answer was.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Pyrrha admitted, nuzzling her head into his shoulder that was now soaked from her tears, and she wished that she could answer the question that she could hear hiding underneath the one he’d actually said. “Not much, anyway.”

Because she was scared to. Because this was the Destiny she’d been striving for all this time. The only goal she’d ever had, so what came after that?

Her life had been written like a script for her ever since she started training and felt how right her spear felt in her hands. So what would happen when the words on the page ran out? When the blank pages were held out in front of her, what would she write now that she had the power?

Pyrrha barely dared to hope that there would be a page for her to write on at all.

“I have,” Jaune said, and his chest wasn’t hitching anymore, thank the gods. Pyrrha watched as his free hand picked at the muddy grass below them.

She willed the familiar nervous energy the motion held to calm her down. Pyrrha hummed. “Any ideas?” Because she didn’t have any for once. Her book was quite possibly coming to a close, so any ideas he had of what to do to add new pages was welcome.

Jaune’s hand stilled, and he stayed quiet for a few breath’s time. Pyrrha didn’t rush him. “Ask me when we get there.”

And when he pressed another kiss into her hair, Pyrrha wished that she could promise to do that.

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos #glynda goodwitch #professor ozpin #weiss schnee #mine #my writing #blooming #chapter 10

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 4 years

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Day 4 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: Just to See You Happy

Summary: Time Travel AU. Frodo has carried the Ring and deserves as much rest as any mortal can bear. He refuses to see his mission as complete until Bilbo finds his happiness. And if that happiness is found in a group of dwarves from long ago, Frodo will fight the Valar above to see it done. Along the way though, he may learn it’s not the ‘dwarves’ but perhaps one dwarf in particular.

POV: Frodo

Bilbo Baggins was many things in the eyes of his nephew both before and after the incident with the ring. He was courageous. He was kind. He was encouraging. He was everything Frodo needed him to be when suffering the tragedy of losing his parents. He could so clearly recall the memory of running out as a tween without a waistcoat in his eagerness to get to the market to get the first pick of raspberries for Bilbo’s tarts.

Of course, he had managed to run into Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who gave him such a scolding on the shame he brought his family name to be underdressed, running wild, with uncombed feet hair to top. Frodo could barely stomach the lashing, and ran back to Bag End, tears in his eyes, ready to never leave the hole again. Well, that certainly wouldn’t do for ‘Mad’ Baggins as he promptly stepped out in his bathrobe of all things! Returned Lobelia’s barb words tenfold making sure she knew just who the shame upon the family name of Baggins was, and then sent Frodo out into the woods where the ‘best wild berries’ lay hid.

It really was no wonder Frodo offered to walk upon the slopes of Mount Doom itself just to protect his uncle. He would do anything for his uncle’s piece of mind. And while the Big Folk may sit around and argue as to whether or not Bilbo could be faulted for picking up what he deemed a harmless trinket that turned out to be the singularly most evil item in all of Middle Earth, Frodo decided he could carry those invisible sins. All for Bilbo’s happiness.

Happiness. A curious word in retrospect. If one had asked Frodo prior to the whole mess with the ring if his uncle was happy, he would have said yes easily. After all, he had shared laughs and smiles with Bilbo. He had been subjected to tender hugs and kisses as a faunt. He knew the stories that could tickle him pink. What else could happiness entail?

However, in the weeks leading up to their departure to the Undying Lands, Frodo looked introspectively, and realized Bilbo had been happy in the Shire in the same way Frodo was happy now. A mask of contentedness that hid the drowsy emptiness inside. A phantom pain that couldn’t be explained, and that couldn’t be chased away. A sad thing that clings to the back of the mind once they were alone. Perhaps it was the way one felt after having witnessed true tragedy, and there was no cure. Or perhaps it was the lingering effects of the ring that refused to give up even after its destruction. Either way, Frodo hoped with his entire being that the Undying Lands were the answer. That sailing west with the elves would heal this hurt upon his and Bilbo’s minds to show them true happiness once more.

Frodo watched his uncle’s face light up in pure delight when he deemed himself ready for ‘one last adventure’. It was so nice to see Bilbo coherent once more. That was the one thing he feared the most as he grew older, the loss of his wits. Seeing that he found them once more gave Frodo hope as he climbed into the boat with him. That hope was dashed within the first hour of their voyage.

“As soon as we land in Valinor, we must stop at the Gardens of Yavanna and maybe the Lands of Lorien before we head to the Halls of Aule.” Bilbo began to murmur excitedly.

“The Halls of Aule?” Frodo questioned with a laugh. “What business do you have in the Valar’s Smithy?”

“The Valar’s Smithy indeed.” Bilbo huffed. “I’ll have you know that is where my dwarves are, and I intend to see them.”

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, you and Frodo are the first mortals to get to visit Valinor.” Gandalf pointed out delicately.

“Meaning what exactly?” Bilbo asked with a raised brow.

“Meaning you won’t exactly have free reign to wander into anyone’s afterlife. You will be treated as a mortal in an immortal’s land.” Elrond answered gently.

The joy that had been shining in his eyes swiftly left making the already old hobbit seem nearly decrepit. After that, it was hard to get Bilbo to engage with them again. He just sat there looking out across the ocean with that pained look Frodo knew only too well. However, now he was wondering if the reason behind that look had nothing to do with the Ring. What if it had to do with something that happened during Bilbo’s adventure?

Frodo went to sleep that night wishing for more than anything to just be able to erase that look from Bilbo’s eyes forever. After closing his eyes, Frodo actually began to dream for the first time in a long time. He was standing amongst the stars where several tall figures began to appear.

The first was a blind man with hair fairer than Lady Galadriel. He looked over at Frodo and winked before turning to the rest of the gathering. With a jolt, Frodo realized what he was witnessing. He was in a meeting of the Valar, and that man was Lorien, Master of Dreams and Desires. As he spun around, more names became associated with the faces above him.

Lady Yavanna, earthy and proud, next to her husband in the dwarven armor and long red beard, Aule the Smith. Manwe’s electric blue eyes practically radiated the power as King stood next to his wife and queen, Varda, shining stronger than the stars around them. Mandos, Nienna, Este, Tulkas, every lord and lady Frodo had ever grown up learning about was present, and not a single one of them was aware of his meager presence. Well, until Lady Yavanna had the gull to wink at him.

“Why have you summoned us, Lorien?” The impressive voice of Manwe bellowed.

“To answer the call of your Chosen.” The blind Vala answered.

“Yavanna and Aule’s children?” The shadowed persona of Mandos questioned. “Have we not already granted them asylum?”

Yavanna shared a look with her husband, giving his hand a squeeze of support.

“After the service they have done us, is it too much to give them an audience?” Aule gruffed.

“Oh yes! Please, let us hear Frodo Baggins out.” Nienna pleaded her Mercy with tears streaming down her face.

Frodo suddenly found himself the intense victim of the immortals’ weighted gaze. The fact that his legs hadn’t given out on him yet was a strong reminder that this was only a dream.

“Well, let’s have it.” Este’s sweet voice, as the Lady of Healing would have, carried down to Frodo making him feel almost giddy. “What would you desire of us, Young One?”

Frodo gulped struggling for a moment to find an answer for the Vala.

“You see, it’s my uncle, Bilbo Baggins. I just want him to be happy. He doesn’t deserve to be so burdened. The choice to Bear the Ring was mine and mine alone, but Uncle...he just thought he was helping thirteen dwarves get home.”

Eyes shifted to Vaire, the Weaver, as she pondered Frodo’s request.

“It’s true there were many paths laid out before Bilbo Baggins, but...it was the fall of the Line of Durin that sealed his pain. I cannot free him without going back nearly eighty years in the mortal’s lifetime.”

Yavanna gripped Aule’s hand in support as his face twisted into a pained grimace.

“The three deaths in question were young and unnecessary, but unavoidable when considering the proximity of the One Ring that Bilbo Baggins carried at the time.” Aule pointed out.

“And we cannot surrender that front.” Manwe interjected. “This mortal’s pain is unavoidable.”

“Not necessarily.” Lorien gave a tight grin. “I have called us all here because I have heard the calls from both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins, and I believe there is a way to fulfill their desires. Vaire, could there be a path to peace created from the presence of Frodo Baggins after what the mortals referred to as the Fell Winter?”

Gasps were heard around the room.

“That far back?”

“Can it be done?”

Vaire seemed to give this a considerable amount of thought, and as she thought her fingers glided through the starry landscape as if she were sewing a pattern in the vastness of the sky. Her eyes widened at whatever it was she saw, and she turned towards the rest intrigued.

“There is a pattern I see. It’s very risky, but it can be done.”

“You’re asking us to risk the fate of the world on the happiness of a single mortal?” Manwe scoffed. “Why would we ever consider such a thing?”

“Because if anyone deserves happiness, it’s the ones we burdened with our shame and inaction.” Nienna cried out. “We must give Frodo Baggins a chance.”

Varda took that moment to address Frodo causing silence amongst the rest of the Valar.

“Frodo Baggins, do you understand what is being asked of you?”

“Forgive me, My Lady, but I’m afraid I do not.” He admitted.

She nodded gently but her voice still rang firm. “If we grant this wish for you. To see your uncle’s happiness, you will have to carry the One Ring once more. Could you bear such a burden again?”

Frodo hesitated and the pain in his shoulder from the Nazgul’s blade throbbed as if in denial of the deed that lay before him. He was broken from the quest the first time. Would there be anything left if he had to carry such evil once more? He came to the Undying Lands in search of peace. Peace for himself and for Bilbo. This entire conversation seemed to counter that point. His anxiety must have shown on his face, because Este’s calm broke through his dark thoughts.

“I cannot see the future, Frodo Baggins. But I can feel out this timeline, and if you succeed, you and Bilbo will finally be free of the pain you carry.”

Frodo heaved a heavy sigh. There was really no question then, was there?

“I don’t know if I am truly the right person for such a monumental task as this. But for Bilbo...for myself, I would be willing to try.”

Tulkas laughed hard enough to shake the foundation upon which they stood.

“What did you do to these ones to make them so courageous, Aule?” He questioned.

Frodo stared at the smith in confusion as he just smiled fondly.

“I let my wife have some input in the design. She wanted them born with a healthy dose of hope.”

“Then let us carry that hope forward. Manwe, with your permission, I wish to send Frodo back in the timeline where he can make a real difference. He will remember much of his previous life, and he will know of the task that lies before him.”

Manwe sighed a gust that threatened to blow Frodo over. “So mote it be.”

“So mote it be.” Everyone else repeated.

Frodo looked expectantly up at Lorien who was gazing down at him softly. “Go Little One. May you fulfill all your wishes, and if you need guidance, may you always know where to find me.”

Slowly, the world faded around him until he was once again enclosed in darkness. Waking up instantly, Frodo found himself in a world much unlike the one he just left. And the first thing he noticed was how it was unbearably cold.

#7 days of plot bunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #frodo centric #birthdayplotbunnies #starterdrabble #that one time Frodo traveled through time #to be his uncle's wingman

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crowbarstodd · 5 years

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Course Of Nature (3)

Chapter Summary: Marinette doesn’t hate Robin, Chat and Nightwing have basically adopted each other, and the kids finally get to hear something about The Light from the secretive adults. Rating: Still G Word Count: 2,532 (it increases with every chapter ooft) Pairing: Daminette

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four

When she was seven years old, Marinette was grounded for the first time. It was nothing big; no television for a whole day, but the events leading up to it stuck with her as she grew.

It was early spring and the bakery her parents ran had been up for only four months, bringing about a slew of changes her younger self was hardly prepared for. One of the worst of which (worst being subjective to the temperament of her seven-year-old-self) was the plum dacquoise.

Dacquoise was typically made with hazelnuts and almonds, a delicious combination in their own right. But the addition of the tarty fruit taste of fresh plums was heaven on her tongue.

Plum dacquoise was her favourite cake — her favourite dessert. It was, in the Dupain-Cheng household, her cake. So when she found her father baking it one morning, she let herself dissolve in delight like sugar in water.

The plum dacquoise sat on the bakery display case, and not once did her parents offer her a slice. Instead, as 7pm rolled around, they gave it to Mrs. Bisset in a pink box, tied shut with a white bow.

Marinette cried.

Her cake was in the hands of some evil stranger and her parents smiled as the witch exited the bakery. Exited the bakery with her cake.

She didn’t understand, and her parents didn’t understand her anger, not until she lobbed a plum at her own father’s head, shrieking her head off the entire time.

“I didn’t realise, sweetheart,” her father said, holding her tight in his arms, both apologetic and drained. “But you have nothing to be jealous about.”

They still sold the cake, it would be silly not to when it was undoubtedly a bestseller, but they did rename it ‘Marinette’s Dacquoise,’ and she was content to settle for that.

(Her parents, however, weren’t and promptly sent her to her room and told her not to even think about asking to watch Totally Spies when she was naughty enough to throw a fruit at her dad.)

————————

Marinette didn’t notice the nail marks on the palms of her hands until Alya pointed them out during class the next day. “Girl! She gasped, running a smooth thumb over the blistering marks, “what happened?!”

She had got a well of bad excuses to offer so she faked a laugh and offered the easiest one. “I guess I must have gotten too stressed about designing and managed to do this without realising.”

Alya shot her a look, one that made it obvious her best friend knew she was lying, but wouldn’t ask out of respect, and the fact that she had her own secrets, leaving Marinette to stew in guilt and whatever other feelings her inevitable zone-out introspection uncovered. Coming late at least had the perk of avoiding questions and over-thinking. Not that she was excusing her usual temporal tendencies, but kwami she really could have had a pleasant morning if she just let herself sleep in again.

The indents on the inside of Marinette’s hand were a faded pink, and if she was careful, they would be gone within the next three days. Stupid Robin. Sure, he didn’t press his nails against her skin, but if he hadn’t been so infuriatingly overbearing, she wouldn’t have hurt herself thinking about him. No, not thinking — fuming about him.

Alya’s focus on her new injuries was abated when Nino walked into the classroom, complaining loudly to a mildly bemused looking Adrien. “And all he does is get mad at LB. That’s so not cool man. I mean, at least I heard he did anyway.”

Interest peaked, Alya inserted herself into their conversation. “Who gets mad at Ladybug?”

“That new hero,” Nino frowned, “Lark or whatever — the bird one. I heard he’s like, mad rude.”

Marinette raised her brows at his words. He’d patrolled with her and Robin earlier in the week so she knew that he knew Robin’s name. She wasn’t sure if his sudden forgetfulness was to enforce his civilian cover, but she had a feeling he was at least slightly motivated by spite. Robin hadn’t been kind to him at all, reacting to all his friendly advances with harsh words and cold looks.

Adrien placed a placating hand on Nino’s shoulders as they sat. “Maybe he just seemed rude. Nobody’s really met him yet, and he might be nicer than you think.”

It was pretty typical of Adrien to try and play peacemaker, but this time Marinette winced, knowing that they were the complete wrong words to say. “I’m just saying what I saw!” Nino insisted, “but that new hero shouldn’t be wandering around Paris. He’ll cause more Akumas than he’ll stop.”

Alya leaned forward and tapped on her desk, looking far too used to Nino’s rant. “Watch what you say,” she warned. “Ladybug probably picked him like she picked most of the new heroes, I’m sure she wouldn’t choose someone for no reason.”

Alya’s argument was presented with mild boredom, as if she was repeating an argument. Marinate figured she probably was, seeing how Alya and Nino knew of each other’s identities. and she tried not to feel bad knowing she’d caused two of her friends such grief all while resisting the urge to bang her head on the table. Yeah, in no universe would she pick someone like him.

“No way,” Nino said, “Ladybug hates him!”

Marinette defended him without thinking. Sure he was controlling and arrogant, and they were more like tectonic plates on a collision course than actual partners, but she didn’t hate him. “Maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot about him yet,” she suggested. “Besides, how would you even know if Ladybug hated him?”

Adrien nodded as if she had made a very good point, which she would have if she didn’t know exactly why Nino thought Ladybug would hate Robin. Poor Carpace had been caught in the middle of a particularly turbulent screaming match between herself and her new bird-brained companion, and had suffered from their tempestuous personalities the most. Yeah, she felt a little bad pushing him into the corner like this, but her stomach stirred, unsettled, the more she heard Nino talk bad about Robin.

“He might turn out to be a really good guy,” Marinette continued. “If he was so bad, why would he waste his time helping people?”

Truth be told, Robin was the opposite of a really good guy. He was terrible, and yet Marinette found that it gnawed on her when someone other than herself was spitting insults about him behind his back.

It’s because she knew him, or at least knew him the best out of the Parisian heroes, she thought. (On some level, she was aware that this was probably not the only reason for her discomfort, but she wasn’t particularly keen on exploring that certain part of her brain, so she shoved it aside and left it alone with all her other, more minor issues.)

Marinette was more than a little relieved when Miss Bustier entered the room, timely as ever, calling for class to begin.

Six heroes sat cross-legged around a small, round tea-table, and all Marinette could think was how the whole situation felt like a set-up for a joke.

Across from her was Batman, sipping tentatively from Master Fu’s ceramic cups, struggling to fit more than three fingers into the handle. It was unsettling to be in his presence, more so now in the stifling silence than the first time they’d met when she and Robin had been a second away from hurtling furniture at each other. The whites of his mask blocked out his eyes completely, the same as Robin and Nightwing, though with Batman it looked far more threatening, making him appear like some sort of spectre or creature of the night. (A cryptid, the stranger part of her brain supplied.)

Marinette took the quiet moment as a chance to finally inspect her new allies’ outfits. She recognised some materials used; the very obvious skin-tight kevlar that Nightwing and Batman preferred, durable and bulletproof. (When was the last time she’d even seen a gun in Paris? They were removed probably a month after the first Akuma, she’d genuinely forgotten they were real concerns outside France.) The inside of Robin and Batman’s cowls were Nomex or something similar, though upon closer inspection she realised that the capes didn’t look quite so loose or light, appearing firm for some unknown reason. Marinate itched with the urge to ask what material and fabrics they used.

She mapped their costumes out in her mind, imagining how she’d sew kevlar together, black and dyed blue to form the abstract shape of a bird, or how she’d construct the shape of Batman’s helmet (did it even have a specific reason for being bat-shaped?) with a styrofoam head of her own design for there was no way a typical store would sell a bat-shaped bust.

“We’ve decided to work with the League on this situation,” Batman announced, pulling her from her thoughts, finally breaking the silence with a small ‘clink’ as he set his cup down. “We’ll be working in units to dismantle The Light player by player. The Miraculous holders of Paris and the heroes assigned to Gotham will be working against Hawkmoth and Queen Bee. Do not attempt to engage with other major players, the League has it handled. Further instructions will be given at the appropriate time.”

He said it as if he expected them all to accept it. Marinate didn’t even know what The League was. If she was sure of anything, it was that she was sorely disappointed, as the announcement had killed any chance of her working with Wonder Woman in the future. Unless the Amazon unexpectedly moved to Gotham? Was that even allowed?

It didn’t escape her notice how Robin absorbed the new orders quietly, accepting it with a simple nod like some sort of soldier, though he was very obviously scowling, as if offended by something Batman had said or done.

Nightwing groaned at the announcement, slouching in his seat. “There’s no chance of you telling us about the other teams is there?”

“The more you know, the more dangerous it is if you get compromised,” Batman grunted. “Focus on your mission.”

Master Fu hummed in agreement, refilling teacups as though this was a quaint Sunday tea and not an official hero briefing. Marinate admired him for it.

“When you say Miraculous holders of Paris…”

“Yes,” Master Fu said, answering her unfinished question, “we will be needing help from at least three other heroes. I’m sorry Ladybug, but this time I took the liberty of choosing them.” He opened his palm to pass over three miraculous’.

From her peripherals, she spotted Robin lean forward slightly, obviously curious, but still too stiff to be clear with his emotions. Chat had no such qualms, invading her private space so he could have clear view of the jewelry. He spluttered out a surprised squawk, turning his head to watch her reaction, then turning it back to the jewellery, oscillating rigidly like a broken fan.

In Master Fu’s palm, three miraculous’ sat, gleaming softly as the metal reflected the yellow lights of the living room. The turtle and the fox were unsurprising, expected even. It was the bee that had shocked both herself and Chat into silence.

“Queen B?” Marinette asked, disbelieving. “Are you sure Master? I thought it was unsafe for her to continue?”

Chloe was stubborn at best, and though she’d taken steps to improve since she’d first become a hero, she really wasn’t somebody Marinette would trust to save the world.

Master Fu hummed, taking his time to respond to her questions as usual. “It took a lot of deliberating,” he admitted, “but we need her tenacity.”

She took the Miraculous’ from his, still unsure, but trusting of his judgment. “If you really think so…”

“Woah, so they all have different powers?” Nightwing’s voice broke through the cotton building in Marinette’s head, and she took a moment to admire his vivacity. It was easy in their line of work to fall into sullenness, but he seemed energetic and friendly beyond belief, she couldn’t help but grin.

Yeah, he would be great for her Kitty.

“Sure thing,” Chat said, “Except for Ladybug, she has two abilities, and Paris would be lost without her wielding them.”

She shoved Chat’s shoulders lightly, though it was obvious that she was pleased with his compliments. “Paris needs the cat too,” she said, speaking frankly. “The best offense a miraculous could provide.”

“Definitely seems like it,” Nightwing agreed readily. “The cat is the best one for sure.”

More delighted at his praise toward her partner than offended at his obvious disregard of her, Marinette beamed at his words, glancing at Chat to discern his reaction. Her partner was staring at the older hero as if he had hung the moon himself and declared it belong to Chat.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

There was something else there, something that Marinette was missing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to pry when Chat was glowing so bright he outshone the sun.

“You really are the best,” she said instead of asking. She wasn’t totally sure what they were on, but her friend more than deserved the reassurance she often forgot to give him, and now was as good a time as any.

Robin tutted loudly, fuse blown by something that had happened during the exchange, though she didn’t know what, storming off. He was polite enough not to slam the door, knowing he was a guest at Master Fu’s house, but Marinette didn’t miss the way he pressed harder on his steps on purpose so that his stomps were heard loud and clear.

Marinette recognised the heated exit; the wordless anger and the need to attract attention. It reminded her of plum dacquoise.

The silence that followed was tense and confusing.

“Sorry about him,” Nightwing said, though Robin was neither his fault or his responsibility, at least in Marinette’s mind.

Master Fu and Batman had left sometime in their conversation, Jasmine tea cold indicating that they were long gone (there was no way Master Fu would ever let tea turn cold in his presence) and Marinette appreciated the small victory. At least there was no adult to lecture them about whatever it was that just transpired.

Chugging the rest of his tea, Nightwing stood. He worried his lip, obviously concerned about Robin, eyes flickering from the door to Chat. “I have to go get him,” he said.

It was Chat’s turn to patrol that night with his new partner, which was the only reason Marinette let herself say, “I’ll go.”

Unwilling as she was to do it, she wouldn’t quit until she’d calmed him down or sent him home safely. (Not that she knew where he lived, but he’d be fine in a tree of sorts, he was a bird after all.) Something told her he wouldn’t settle for a simple re-naming, or anything simple at all.

End Notes: Someone’s jealous~!

Hope you guys liked this chapter! The next one is gonna be a bit of a monster though it will feature a splash of Tikki, Tim and Alya, and more civilian Mari. I feel like this story is taking so long to fully set up, I want MariDami to be friends already but hhhhh,,, development.

I sort of wanted to pick Deathstroke or Ra’s instead of Queen Bee so it’d be more personal but she just worked better with the plot that I wanted to write so rip.

Tag List:

@just-rant-and-write-fic-idea @kceedraws @mystery-5-5 @2sunchild2 @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @treebrosha @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @aarushi-03 @ladylb @crazylittlemunchkin @kurogaya913 @ki117h3dr4g0n @xxmadamjinxx @sidefrienda @7-sage-7 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @felicityroth @tritaledkitsune @constancetruggle

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rosinna18 · 3 years

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🌹 Episode 10 Recap 🌹

(Click below the cut for a full summary)

~~~

Previously on... 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓻

Only the Top 3 remained as Devonte took the girls to Salvadorado for fantasy suite dates to test each of their connections one more time before deciding on who would become the final 2. ~

The first date went to Johanna, who received the most votes in the favorites poll, earning her 3 directed interactions. They went out to a museum to take in some local art and artifacts. Smitten as usual the couple spent a good deal of time standing outside, lost in each other's gaze, before Johanna beat Devonte to the punch, asking him to be her boyfriend. Eventually they spent some time looking at the art before having a candlelit dinner outside, sharing a few sweet moments between one another before heading back to the fantasy suite. They relaxed in the hot tub for a little bit before promptly going to bed, tired from a long day and just enjoying being able to cuddle up to one another for the first time. The next morning they got up to some WooHooing before Johanna left, ending a wonderful date all around.

The next date belonged to Delphine, who only received 1 vote in the favorites poll this week. He took her to a park to explore a bit of the jungle they were nestled in. This time Devonte was the one to not waste any time, quickly asking Delphine to be his girlfriend. They spent some time slow dancing and holding each other close, talking the day away before exploring the great outdoors a little more. As the sun began to set, Devonte grilled some dinner for them to have a picnic under the stars. Though they did not converse a ton over the meal, they left off with some stargazing before heading back to the fantasy suite. This time Delphine wasted no time getting to some hanky panky with Devonte just inside the door, the two heading to sleep straight after. We couldn't help but notice that Johanna was still on his mind in the morning though, even though the two had a lovely time and shared one more kiss goodbye as Delphine headed off.

Lastly Haylee got a date of course, her also receiving 1 vote in the favorite's poll. Devonte took her out to a local bar for some drinks and dancing and experiencing the local culture. The two chatted for a bit outside before quickly heading indoors to literally save Haylee's hide. They decided to dance together some, having a fun time until Devonte's flirty charm snuck up again and he made a quick pass at a local. Haylee was far from happy about this storming off to the other room. Devonte followed trying to do damage control but Haylee was having none of it. Going into the dinner with an icy vibe, the two made small talk most of the time. By the end of the meal Haylee seemed to calm down and they got a bit more flirty as they discussed the situation a bit more. Devonte finally asked her to be his girlfriend and lead to her to the fantasy suite where Haylee promptly took him to the hot tub to WooHoo. As Devonte slept, Haylee stayed up most of the night really contemplating her feelings and the happenings of the night. They shared one more sweet kiss and reassurances in the morning, Haylee clearly deciding she was still on board as she went back to her room, awaiting her fate that night.

Devonte then had the rest of the day to sit with his feelings, look deep inside himself and reflect on the passed three days, as that night he would have to make the most difficult decision thus far, knowing he must break the heart of one of the ladies he had grown to care about so much in order to decide on the final two...

At last it was time for the newly corpse free rose ceremony. Each of the ladies trickled in, more nervous than ever as emotions had grown incredibly strong at this point, and Devonte was clearly distraught having to make this decision, but after much introspection, he knew what must be done. The first rose went to Johanna. For a long time Johanna had been at the forefront of his mind and they had more than made up for their recent rough patch. After a splendid day together and a wonderful night where they did a good amount of enjoying each other's bodies and each other's companies, Devonte was more secure than ever that they had something special together. Thus Delphine and Haylee were left. Delphine had found herself in the bottom 2 for the third week in a row. They had a beautiful date together, sharing a passionate night and countless romantic moments between the two. But was the passion as strong with her as it was with the other ladies? And was the freakier side of Delphine that Devonte seemed to bring out a good thing? Or releasing a side of her she would rather keep tucked away? Haylee on the other hand had ridden the middle for a long time before ending last week as the front runner, her bond to Devonte growing stronger each week. Less picturesque, Haylee's date involved some trouble in paradise. But was that fight enough to call it quits? Or was it what Devonte needed to realize just how strongly he cared for her? Devonte knew he loved them both a great deal, but deep down he knew that only one lady he could feel himself falling in love with... and that was Delphine, who received the final rose of the night. Unfortunately the disconnect with Haylee during their date proved that their bond wasn't as comfortable and soothing as the other two and that his eyes just weren't for her alone when they were together. With a heavy heart, he walked her out and sent our little vampire home.

And now we are left with only 2. After weeks of drama and passion, only Delphine and Johanna remain.

Eliminated Episode 10:

🥀 Haylee

#rosinna18 #twitch #stream #sims stream #streamer #sims 4 #sims 4 bachelor #sims bachelor #bachelor s1 #bachelor s1 weekly #devonte kellogg #johanna ogden #haylee burleson #delphine shepherd

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blue-honeycomb · 5 years

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Quiet Devotion 2 [Hawks x Reader]

Since so many people enjoyed the first and asked for a continuation, I decided to make one since I have the day off today. Be warned though, you know what they say about sequels. Also, beware of a possible (most likely going to happen) trilogy.

Summary: Continuation of 'Quiet Devotion'...

Reader Details: Emotional, humble, loyal, introspective.

Quirk: Unbreakable Silk.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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The soft whisper of thread soothed your frantic heart, made calm that which should be a deafening roar. Too soon though, the sharp snip of your delicate pattern work unraveling under your unfocused touch roused you from your thoughts. Too late though, for three hours of work now lie ruined in your grasp, a reminder of your uncharacteristic distraction.

Beside you a crisply folded paper sits unmoving upon your desk, untouched since first you read its contents. Within its perfectly straight creases exists the reason for your distraction, your distress. You'd scold yourself had you the heart to, for though you knew this day would come you still felt overwhelmed by it.

You look around your workshop, taking it in with steady eyes despite the pain searing into the depths of your heart. Silk, cotton and wool creations from generations passed hang proudly along the walls, beautiful and ancient in a way few things are. On their surfaces stories great and small are immortalized, the deeds of heros born before the dawn of quirks, the labors of the common folk. All present, all important, a silent history captured by a weaver's guiding hand.

You look to the paper again, silent. You are not ready, but you doubt you ever will be. There is still so much you do not know, so many things your elders and peers have yet to teach you. Here, you have a life you've just started to live, a place you've begun to make your own: A quiet heaven.

Life moves forward though, as it always has. You know that. You learned that truth years ago in that dark and hopeless place that when life moves forward so must you for there is only one other option. Only one.

Setting your ruined work aside you reach out for the letter and take it carefully in your hands, as though it would burn you if provoked unduly. The first thing to draw you attention is the number sitting unchangingly at the top of the paper, neat and bold against the stark white of the lease notice. Your heart quakes at the sight, but you take a fortifying breath and continue on.

Life holds still for no one after all.

---

Hawk's half-lidded gaze scans lazily over the video footage as it plays mutely before him, head tilting slightly as the object of his attention moves ever closer to the security camera overhead. He'd expected that you'd linger for a while near the mail slot, as most do, but to his surprise you'd merely shoved the package into the slot and walked away without a backwards glace. He'd almost think you felt put upon by how quickly you left, but the smile on your face was more than enough to disprove those thoughts.

His rests his chin in his newly re-gloved palm, enjoying the silken feel of it resting against his skin and stubble. He takes a moment to regret not being able to wear the whole set, but the persistent chill and distracting vibrations that would ensue from it soundly nipped that impulse. Instead, he makes note to be a particularly troublesome nuisance for his support department to encourage them to make his soon-to-be newest outfit their top priority once they receive it.

He replays the video again for perhaps the fourth time that hour because there's something familiar about you he should remember. He's sure of this in a way that strikes him as unusual, concerning even, as he doesn't recognize your face despite his near perfect vision and excellent memory. In his hand he holds a single feather, letting it rest fulling against the glove and watching as it quivers softly against the smooth surface.

That subtle interaction is familiar too, but only distantly so as though feeling a shift of movement underwater or experiencing a phantom ache. It's one of the main reasons he knows he should recognize you from somewhere despite the lack of recognition though, because the sensory input from his wings is not something he's prone to forget or misidentify. Lives literally depend on him being able to control and interpret his quirk.

Leaning back into his chair he props his feet onto his table and smirks, dismissing the concern for now. He'd just have to meet with you in person, simple as that. No better way to get the ball rolling than by just getting it done. He didn't get this far up the rankings by thinking about it after all.

A large, cunning smile crossed his lips, maybe with a bit more teeth than was strictly necessary. Surely, making sure the creator of his newest hero uniform was on hand is what any good hero would do. It's a tough job. You never know when you'll need a patch job. Can't have the Number Two flying around in a tattered costume after all. Wouldn't fit his image.

And so a few calls later and a couple favors shorter, he had your file in hand, flipping through it nonchalantly between bouts of paperwork that never seemed to stop coming.

About halfway through the file he finally comes across what he's looking for, and this time the smile that crosses his expression is fond.

'You really are as pretty as I'd thought you'd be.'

---

Seven Years Ago

---

The feather in your hand has been trying to escape your gasp, likely to return to its originator, but for the life of you you cannot unfurl your fingers from around it. It is your lifeline, your only assurance that there is someone out there, a Hero, who is coming for you even if you cannot see them yet.

The feather tugs in your grasp again and you keen softly, bringing it to your chest to clutch it as tightly as possible in your weakened state.

It could hurt you, you know, slice through your flesh and bone like warm butter with just as much effort. You may not remember the name of the young hero it belongs to but you've seen enough glimpses of him over the news to know that the only reason the feather has not escaped yet is because it doesn't want to hurt you. That the only reason it's stayed this long is because you cannot let go of it. That as selfish as it may seem to an outsider, the trauma and desperation that'd once overtaken you was still there, stayed only by the tangible piece of hope trapped tightly in your hand.

You just cannot let go.

Time passes and the feather still vibrates, soothing your frayed nerves as they try to fill your mind with scenerio after scenerio as to what could have gone wrong up top, each one more convoluted than the last.

Then it happens. The vibrations are no longer just in your hand but all around you, low and quiet as though done with the utmost care. You realize very quickly that it sounds that way because that's exactly what's happening. It takes mere moments for the first ray of light to pierce through the darkness to your far right, followed promptly by the emergence of a helmet cover head you can just make out with your limited sight.

"Is anyone down here?" The voice of the man speaking was rough like gravel and just as grating, but it was one of the most beautiful sounds you'd even heard in all your years of existing.

Once more, for what was beginning to feel like a never ending cycle in your life, you begun to cry.

---

Your extraction was quick, though not nearly quick enough for your liking. Mostly you stayed quiet after your initial outburst of tears, not from embarrassment as some may be lead to believe, but from the sheer exhaustion that overcame you the moment large, warm hands came to help you stand.

After adjusting to the change in lighting you looked to the man helping you and found him dressed in something that looked suspiciously like a onesie/jumper hybrid. Though you suppose such an outfit made sense in his line of work in terms of functionality. Besides, not too many people care about what a person's wearing when they're literally plucking them out of the weckage of what could be the worst day of their lives. You certainly don't.

"Damn. We thought you were a goner. It's a good thing that Hawks kid showed up when he did. Awesome quirk, that one." The strangely dressed hero exclaims with a friendly grin while he supports your back and upper torso, perhaps trying to be assuring or funny but missing the mark on both accounts. "I mean, you were so far down even Radar couldn't sense you! That you survived at all is incredible! You must be a super strong person, no doubt about that!" He smiled even wider, eyes kind and genuinely happy for your survival, but the implications of his words stay with you even as he hands you over to the medics to continue his own hero duties.

'They thought I was dead,' You think numbly as the medic gives you a thorough check up. 'They weren't going to come for me.' Something like panic wanted to crawl up your throat, but you were too tired for it to truly spiral. 'They always recover the bodies last. It could have taken days before they got to that stage.' The implications were not lost on you.

It made sense, really. Why waste effort recovering dead bodies when there were people that needed rescuing and reassuring. Why waste precious life-saving hours looking for corpses that no longer had a time limit when the living had so much more to lose.

It was the right thing to do, you knew. Prioritizing the living was always the right thing to do, but it didn't stop the quiet hurt that settled in your heart. The living have worth, a corpse does not. It stung to think that even if you'd died down there you would have been a low priority issue. That for a while there, you were a low priority.

The feather tugged again and you startled- having forgotten about it in your daze- startling the medic in turn. When they turned to ask you what was wrong you merely shook your head, murmuring softly in reassurance. You knew that had the circumstances been different the medic would have pried, but as it was there was no time for a full Psych evaluation. There were still lives that needed saving and only so much time to do so. In the light of day you could see that well enough on your own, despite both your eyes being nearly swollen shut from the bruising and irritation.

What had started off as a small hero vs. villian battle had somehow devolved into a five block catastrophe of sinkholes and fires. Entire sections of road was missing, likely buried under the untold amount of sand scattered as far as your limited vision would allow you to see. No less than six buildings were near collapsed, some even gone entirely. It was mind boggling just to look at, let alone begin to make sense of.

Still, despite the devastation, one thought remained prevalent above all others.

'They thought I was dead but he checked anyway. He checked because they didn't know for sure and there was still a chance someone had survived the fall. He came when no one else would bother.'

The feather tugged again, and this time you let it go, watching as it dashed away into the chaos.

'I was his number one priority. Not because he knew I was alive, but because there was a chance of it.'

You took a deep breath, and despite the numbing pain all long your body and the hurt that still echoed in your heart, you were lighter for it.

'I'm alive. Thank you.'

#BNHA #Takami Keigo #Hawks x Reader #Takami Keigo x Reader #Quiet Devotion

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edelwoodsouls · 4 years

Text

all roads lead - ch. 5

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

Word Count: 3,292 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4,

Chapter 5: SUNSHINE

The smell of cooking meat and spices fills the air soon after John shows them their room. It's relatively large, painted in cool tones of blue. A double bed, a desk and wardrobe. Large windows overlooking the back garden, which backs onto the preserve.

The window is noticeably easily to climb out of, the wrap-around porch and flower lattices a perfect ladder to the ground. Very useful for a werewolf, he thinks.

Malia splays herself out on the bed, testing its comfort. "It's no New York," she says seriously, as she bounces up and down, before burrowing into the covers. "But it'll do."

She's still sulking at the thought of going to school again. Peter had given up trying to make her school when she'd returned from Eichen House, homeschooling her instead, and allowing her to forgo any subject she decided she hated - math and history, mainly.

"You don't have to pass or anything," he'd reminded her. "I've got enough magic to handle cheating a few pop quizes. And maybe we can get in a study group, meet real teenagers. Get someone cute as a personal tutor, I'm sure you'll be a straight A student in months."

"I am a physical learner," she'd nodded sagely; he'd thrown a cushion at her.

Now he curls up into her arms beneath the covers. The duvet is thick but not too heavy, and the furnace they create almost chases away the cold in his fingers.

"Do you think your dad took that all a bit too easily?" Malia says softly, words muffled by his hair.

"Definitely," he admits. He's been steadfastly ignoring this fact until now. "Beacon Hills is a weird town, though. I'm sure he's seen all sorts of fucked up shit."

"He definitely knows about werewolves."

Stiles grimaces. "Yeah, probably. It's a bit hard to miss. Especially with a bitten wolf under the same roof."

"It's probably for the best."

"You think?" He shifts to look up at her dark brown eyes, unusually heavy with storm clouds.

"Now if he finds out, he's less likely to have a heart attack and die on the spot."

Stiles snorts. "I guess. He's already had a big enough shock with me coming back from the dead. The glowing eyes and fangs might be a bit too much to handle."

Under these warm covers, with Malia beside him, Stiles practically feels the shackles melt from his ankles. It truly is safe here, a perfect microcosm of everything he needs. He could never move from this place, with the steady rhythm of Malia's breathing to lull him to sleep, and die happy.

"Stiles," Malia says. There's something in her voice- not sharp, exactly. Not angry, it's too soft for that. Disappointed? He looks up to her again.

Her fingers rest lightly against his arm. Harsh black veins crawl up her skin, reaching high, disappearing beneath her sleeves. A grimace twists her lips.

Stiles goes suddenly cold. He reaches back along the bond, wrenches the pain she's stealing back into himself. He feels it hit him all at once, the breath vanishing from his chest for an instant.

But it is his pain, and it settles quickly back into his bones where it always sits. Where it has lived so long he has all but forgotten it exists there.

"Don't do that," he says sharply.

"I don't like seeing you suffer," Malia's eyes are fierce in that way he usually loves, that says she won't back down. "Especially not alone. Stiles, you're always in pain. You think you hide it well, but I see it. You haven't had a moment of rest since the nogitsune left, and if I can shoulder the burden long enough for you to sleep through a whole night, I'm going to do it."

"It's my burden to bear." My punishment. He may not have the scars to match, but the constant dull ache the nogitsune left behind feels right, feels good. This unnatural body, one that looks like his, but has never actually seen his childhood home, never hugged his mother, should not be comfortable.

"I'm your beta," Malia hisses, suddenly furious. Now she's angry. "You spent all that time bearing burdens Peter never even knew you carried for him, but you won't let me do the same? One rule for you, one for everyone else?"

Yes, he wants to say, because Peter never deserved the tragedy that piled upon his life, but Stiles does. And because he is not Peter. He loved Peter, but the man was never exactly a model alpha. His temper was too short, too violent. Sometimes too controlling. All easily explained away by his trauma, but not excused by it.

Malia deserves a better alpha. Better than Peter, better than Stiles, too- but he's the only one up for the job right now, and he'll do everything he can to live up to the role. He will not let her suffer on his behalf, though he knows she would throw herself on the pyre for him in an instant.

He wants to say all of this, but before he can form the words to make her understand, the front door opens with a loud thud, accompanied by a sudden maelstrom of footsteps and voices.

Stiles flinches, feeling Malia freeze beside him as they strain to listen.

Two new voices. Male. Excited, arguing playfully back and forth. Scott and Isaac.

Both unmistakeably werewolves.

"Showtime," Stiles mutters, as the voices go quiet, most likely sniffing out the two new, definitively human scents twined a floor above them. They listen as John comes out of the kitchen to explain the situation. What could he possibly say to make sense of it?

"We've got this," Malia murmurs, though her fingers are gripping his arm tightly now. "Should we look busy?"

"We already do," Stiles snickers, earning a sharp whack to the back of his head.

Steps thunder up the stairs, rocketing across the landing, almost falling over themselves. They come to a skidding halt just outside the door, as if remembering only at the last second that barging into a room is impolite.

A knock against the door, so tentative, as if scared any harder could break through the wood.

"Come in?" Stiles says, reluctantly extricating himself from the cocoon of Malia and bedding.

Whilst the years have not been kind to Stiles, or his father, Scott McCall wears his age like a mantel. Thick muscles wrap a straight-standing frame, unbent by pressure and trauma. His eyes are bright, his smile easy and so genuinely curious it seems to strike Stiles like lightning.

There are many differences, from the thick black bands tattooed on his arm, the scar on his cheek, to the overwhelming scent of power that curls off him in waves. But his jaw is still as crooked as ever, his expression like a cloudless, sunny sky.

That the world has not managed to break Scott McCall is a miracle Stiles is suddenly, desperately grateful for.

"Stiles!" Scott's voice is so much deeper than that ten year old he knew - of course it is - and filled with so much enthusiasm it almost smothers the confusion, the suspicion-

The hurt. Because his father isn't the only thing Stiles abandoned.

"Hey, Scotty," Stiles tries for a smile, finding it comes far more easily than usual. As if Scott has alleviated his burdens, too, for just a moment.

"Your dad said you just turned up today! Are you okay? What happened to you? Oh my god, it's been so long-" Scott stops suddenly, grins bashfully as he puts a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, that was a lot. I'm sure you'll talk about it when you're ready."

Stiles blinks, so stunned by Scott's unexpected restraint it takes a moment for him to realise the other boy is introducing him to someone. "-don't know if you remember him, he's living with us now that...well, he's living with us."

The boy in question is an incredibly tall bundle of blond hair and too-sad eyes. He hunches, as if to diminish his imposing figure. Stiles remembers, vaguely- Isaac Lahey, quiet and introspective, whose mother had been killed in a hit and run shortly after Claudia Stilinski died.

He remembers sitting with the young boy at the sheriff's station. Not talking, because what could words possibly say? But sitting together, sharing their grief. The memory brings up others Stiles doesn't like to consider, and he looks away quickly, even as he sees from Isaac's expression that they are sharing it.

Malia promptly pokes him in the ribs. "Am I just wallpaper now?"

"You're perfectly capable of introducing yourself, Mal," he snaps back playfully.

"Hm." Malia climbs out of the bed, shoving Stiles unceremoniously onto the floor in the process. "I'm Malia. Not Mal. Nice to meet you."

She sticks her hand out awkwardly, but Scott takes it all in stride, shaking it eagerly. "Nice to meet you, really. How do you know Stiles?"

Stiles is half expecting her to simply come out with it. He's my alpha. He murdered my father. Lying is not Malia's strong suit; every bone in her body rings with blunt honesty. But living with Peter and Stiles must have rubbed off on her at some point, because she simply smiles back and says, "We met in New York."

Which is A, a lie, and B, brings up a whole host of new questions. But still. Progress.

Stiles was a year bitten when he met Malia Tate - not in the far flung starlight of New York, but right here in Beacon Hills.

His life had changed drastically since that first day, when a stranger with sharp eyes had offered him the freedom he could only dream of.

He knows he probably should feel guilty for running, for how quickly he left with Peter - for how easily he’d allowed werewolf to become the excuse he needed to cut ties. But he was a child desperate to flee, haunted by the scent of whiskey and his mother’s perfume. And the newborn wolf inside him was already howling for home in a way that had nothing to do with Beacon Hills, and everything to do with the alpha cleaning his wounds.

So when Peter Hale said New York, there was no answer except yes.

Of course, he was still a ten year old boy, uncomfortable with the idea of comfort after so long spent in crisis. He got angry, a lot. Frustrated. Threatened to leave. And Peter, twenty-one years old, buried in guilt and responsibility and absolutely not ready for any of it, reacted in kind.

And Stiles did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran away.

Usually he fled into the woods, exploring it just as he had the preserve - he really hadn’t learned his lesson on that one - or lost himself in the sounds and scents of the city. He always came back after a day or so.

This time was different. Your father, Peter had begun, and the wall Stiles had built between himself and Beacon Hills had come crashing down.

Shot in the line of duty. The words ricocheted through his head, endlessly, repetitively, until Stiles’ feet drove him out of the door to think, to breathe, to try to escape them.

He hadn’t left with the intention of coming here, and yet where else would he have gone?

Looking back now, he hears the careful words Peter chose, how he danced around things such as killed and dead. How he let Stiles grieve without ever having to dirty his hands in a lie. A convenient omission that Stiles does not know how to judge. To spare him the pain of having a living but abandoned father? To tie Stiles tighter to him, to New York, so he'd be less likely to leave?

The lie turns over and over in his head in a maddening refrain, all the worse for the fact that this is the one riddle he will never know the answer to.

Stiles had gotten buses most of the way back to Beacon Hills, dropping him at the northern edge of the preserve. He needed to walk the rest of the way, to feel the pain this pilgrimage had cost him on a bone-deep level. He left his phone buried deep in his backpack, ignoring the angry buzzing that started up on day three. He was hungry, and tired, and yet his feet drove him on.

He hiked through the preserve for two days. His old memories of the forest felt like little more than fuzzy, black and white photographs in the face of what his wolf could sense. Even that first day, everything had been so much, too much, ending up blurred just the same.

Now he walked with his head turned to the sky, taking in every leaf and branch in the canopy. Listening to each rustle of twigs, his mind racing as two legs became four legs became coyote, twenty feet to the left, hiding in the bushes.

Hiding. Because for Stiles there was nothing to fear, now. He was the scariest creature in the forest.

The thing that struck him most was how different these woods were to the ones he traversed in New York. Older, certainly. More alive. There was a pressure in the air, a presence that existed everywhere at once, directionless. Every rustle of leaves, every breath of wind, sounded more like a murmured voice than the creak of trees. Did that voice belong to the trees? To the spirits winding in between their trunks? To the dead?

It took him several minutes, distracted by his awe, to realise that the coyote was following him. At a distance, moving through the underbrush with the fluid movements of something used to being invisible.

But not to Stiles. He could smell its hunger seeping into the air, the ravenous desperation of an animal willing to try anything. He tried to stay calm, keep his pace and breath as relaxed as they had been before. But all he could think of was the last time he had been alone in these woods. The scent of blood was thick in his nose, the echo of pain sharp against his leg.

He could take a coyote, couldn't he? He had never been in a fight, never faced any danger except that first bite. He had become so comfortable in his own rush of new power, he had forgotten the world was still willing to do him harm. The wolf inside him less of a wall than a veil, still easily perforated. Like his skin, fragile, though it healed quickly.

His heart raced despite himself as his thoughts began to spin; he could feel the moment the other animal sensed his temperament.

The moment he became prey, about to bolt.

It sprang from the bushes suddenly, so fast even Stiles was unprepared. He was on the ground in an instant, a tangle of fur and claws. He tried to snarl, to push back against the creature, but desperation made his moves sloppy where it made the coyote powerful. Claws and teeth sank into any flesh available.

The worst thing wasn't the pain, or the certainty that fate had merely waited an extra year to claim him. It was the heat, the breath on his cheek, the coarse fur scratching against him. The feeling of something alien against his skin, violating the carefully constructed barriers around himself in such an open, direct way.

He stopped struggling. He still can't say, even years later, why he found himself staring at the cold daylight through the canopy, watching a pair of blackbirds whirling through the sky, utterly still. The world felt distant and unimportant.

And just as sudden, the weight vanished from him. He heard animal yelps, the gut-wrenching, slick sound of teeth tearing into flesh. A whimper- then silence. The rustling of leaves brushed away by a tail.

Slowly, he inched his body up. Blood, fresh and brighter than he thinks blood should be, soaked his jumper. Every movement felt like a new slash across his skin, and the world wheeling and shifting at an alarming rate.

He threw up water and blood, the only things left in his stomach.

Across the clearing was a coyote- not the one that had attacked him, he knew somehow, though he never saw the first. This one was larger, fur sleek in shades of grey and pale yellow; blood dripping steadily from its maw, though it made no move to clear it. It watched him with an intelligence that startled him.

The other coyote lay in a crumpled heap, leaves half-heartedly kicked over its fur.

Stiles knew all too well what that felt like. He retched, but there was nothing left to expel.

When he looked up again, shivering, the coyote was right beside him. Slowly, as if testing his reactions, it pushed its nose against his hand, leaving a smear of blood against his pale skin. He felt his wolf eyes flickering automatically, ringing with liquid gold. The coyote stared at him with deliberate, widened eyes.

Which glowed an icy, bright blue.

He had never met a full shifter except Peter, whose true form had been brutalised by his madness. This creature looked no different from the coyote under the leaves, save for that supernatural blue.

The one thing Peter had made clear, over and over again, as if afraid Stiles might forget: do not trust other shifters. Do not trust creatures who do not share your pack, share that bond closer than blood he could feel thrumming somewhere deep and hot inside his soul.

Looking into Malia's eyes then, those words had risen up in his mind. They had become meaningless already. He was tired of mistrust, though it had chiselled itself deep in his bones.

And where that singular, bright flame he knew to be Peter's bond had been, he felt a second flicker to life, tying him to the creature now curling close against his wounds, lending its warmth and companionship as he felt himself, every so slowly, begin to heal.

They had been inseparable ever since. Codependent, Peter used to scoff, an accusation that fell half-heartedly short in the face of their closely knit family unit.

Besides, there had been no one else.

No one else, except these ghosts that Stiles had let himself forget beneath a haze of anger. Just because the clouds eclipsed the sun doesn't mean it wasn't there.

"New York?" Scott asks, face so open and curious Stiles feels the words tugging at his tongue in an instant. This is a face he would tell his darkest secrets to, if asked.

A dangerous face. But one Stiles wants to let below his guard nevertheless.

"I ended up there for a while," Stiles shrugs, steadying his heart against prying ears. "Malia's a life saver, pulled me from the fire more than once. Some things just stick you together for life, y'know?"

Scott glances at Isaac, and Stiles is sure he does know. They're both thinking of that rope-tight bond between pack, a fire in itself. Indescribable to those who have never felt what it is to let another soul make a home in your heart.

Maybe this can work. Even with two packs, two alphas under the same roof. Because they all have that fire. And they all share loss - inextricably entwined with the love written in every line of their faces.

And maybe that shared understanding is enough. No more spilt blood.

No more spilt blood, Stiles promises, and allows himself a smile.

He only hopes it lasts a little longer this time.

#fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #malia tate #scott mccall #isaac lahey #own work #morgan writes

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