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chocolatecakeandbl · 1 year

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Prapai’s Past - Character Study with Headcanons

Out of the blue, we had a very interesting convo yesterday at the server. It started with ‘Prapai’s happiness’ and turned into ‘What might have happened in Prapai’s past?’

A lot of headcanons came up, halfway turned into a deep character study we want to share with everyone.

Buckle yourself in, get a drink. This will take some time :3

A short Prapai Character Study

We often joke about Prapai being empty-headed about anything that is not Sky and Sky's body, but we never think of him as just a dopey guy. He has to be brilliant at his job. His father wouldn't have made him CEO if he were an idiot. He has brilliant emotional intelligence. He just plays the smiley fuckboi, because that's what people expect him to be.

Prapai the CEO.

The amount of burden he has to carry on his shoulders must be beyond imagination.

The pressure? The expectations?

Prapai’s family seems to be supportive, but they still loaded expectations upon expectations on him.

Prapai the family anchor.

The boy raised his siblings, said so himself. How fast has he had to grow up? How old was he when he lost his childhood?

Where was Pai's mother in this? Why did the responsibility for his siblings fall on Pai? Why not someone else? They are rich. They could have had help. Nannys? Other family members? Literally anyone but Pai? So why Pai?

A possible headcanon:

Pai's mom was there when Phan and Plerng were still small, but when they got older, it fell on Pai. Largely because Pai was always present and wanted to take care of them, loved them more than himself - that's how this boy is, really. In the end, Pai was too protective to let someone else care for them?

In a way, if looked for deep enough, it becomes tragic. Why? Because he had the money for a place to live, all the food and stuff he might have wanted. But he was too young to carry the responsibility of a family, and it led him to make hard choices.

Prapai, the man behind the mask.

Prapai is incredibly intense in whatever he does.

He was given a lot of responsibility since a young age, not only from his parents because his dad most likely already had the intention for him to become CEO the moment he was born, but also because he cared for his siblings the way he did. It might have ended up coming naturally to him, not only because he IS loving like that, but because he's been slowly put into a position of "taking care of things", whatever those may be. Started off as helping out his brother with a bruise, ended up in making deals and ensuring the status of the company.

On the other side, we see what happens IF Pai stops wearing that mask of smiles, and his charming sunny boy self. It's been a thing when Sky cut him off. But what really got us was the way he looked when he got up to repay Gun’s efforts.

There wasn’t a trace of a smile. Prapai’s eyes were intense, focused. His stance was tall, grand, room filling. Someone hurt the man who is his heart? His life?

This is the moment the mask falls completely. What we find is an intense Prapai. A protective Prapai. A Prapai who doesn’t fear to keep those safe he wants to have safe no matter what it costs.

This Pai is the real Pai.

Why the smiles?

If you have no idea why he keeps smiling and being the sunny boy, it's easy to say that he just is like that because he never had to worry about anything. He's from a rich family. He had his future set out. He's pretty.

But what does it need to be a young CEO?

That is what many underestimate. How there's ALWAYS people telling you how you are too young for the job, that there's no way the company survives under your hands. That you only got the position bc of X instead of your own hard work. If you leash out, it's all over. Everyone goes "Told you. He's not made for the position." So what is left? Smile. Be charming. Maybe add a bit of puppy eyes and acting innocent because it always helps. We all see it at Pai. We hc he not only got hurt relationship wise, but also has to take slights on an everyday base. He has a way to cope with it, but it's a thing many people choose to not see.

Inevitable questions we never got answers to:

Why was Prapai ‘raised’ by his uncle?

Why did he end up having to raise his siblings?

Where had his parents been?

Why had he had to take over the company at such a young age?

Prapai as a teenager

Prapai wearing his heart on his sleeve is so true and we can only imagine a much younger Prapai, being his lovely golden retriever self trying to give someone his heart, only for it to be stomped on. How long he might’ve been a ‘kicked puppy’, who decided that all smiles, swaggering fuckboi was the mask he needed to wear from then on?

What if this is what happened? Teenage Prapai who lost his heart to someone only to have it crashed...

What made him into the 'fuckboi' we got to know? Did he sit down, over his broken heart, seeing the sadness in his eyes in the mirror, and go "No one will ever get to know about it?" only to adapt a "Single life is best." attitude we saw he had (and conveyed to his siblings)?

What if he tried again, got shot down again, then realized people only wanted him for one thing.

OR.... Maybe he overheard someone talking about him. Young Pai, pondering on whatever he's pondering on, maybe he's in school or college, he overhears a conversation about him, and as he's about to walk in and say hi, he hears himself described in ways that break his heart.

It's hard to believe he just chose “Single life is the best!” out of the blue and that he always wanted the "single heartthrob" vibe for himself. Prapai is TOO lovely to simply be a player.

He didn’t go through a trauma like Sky went through, but he might have gone through a period of time with someone whom he cared for a lot but who didn't treat him the way he deserved. "Why should I even give my heart to anyone if people just use it however they'd like?"

Considering he was raised to care for everything, he wouldn't just go around "fucking and finding out".

What if we go deeper into this headcanon?

What if he tried relationships?

He freaking tried but got so badly hurt he decided he’s either not worth it or everyone is the same so there’s no point in trying. In high school, or while in UK. Being cheated on, being used for money, being a game in someone’s bet (I dare you to get into Pai’s pants and make him head over heels for you kind of bet). A different hurt from Sky’s, but still one creating a huge scar in his heart.

So many people just go for looks.

And Pai fits in that part. Not only does he come from a monetary background, and social status, but he has the looks as well.

He is a charming boy, it's hard to not want him.

Maybe he's how he is because he got hurt. He got used. And to avoid it happening again, he opened a playground where he could live out the frustration his life inevitably brings, while at the same time getting that tad bit of intimacy (aka bedroom activities) keeping him sated enough to go through daily life.

We think Pai is someone, who IF he had a relationship before, got cut off because he is very caring. And so many out there just aren't able to cope with it. Too many feelings. Too much care. Too much focus.

It’s easily overwhelming for too many.

Prapai’s Happiness

We often talk about how Pai made Sky happy, made him feel safe, but we talk way too little about how Sky taught Pai to be happy and showed him that happiness in a relationship is a thing too. Before Sky, Prapai had no idea how real relationships work. He didn’t know the joy that came from it, nor that slightly different feeling of support and feeling home.

Now, Sky showed him what real, genuine romantic love is, what does it mean to hold someone in your arms feeling content simply because that person is next to you and you can hug them.

That your love’s happiness is often your happiness.

Sky showed him that fuzzy warm feeling. He rid him of loneliness and gave Pai stability. The way that boy smiles in EP11 after the NC, when he holds Sky in his arms, and in EP13 when he peppers him with all the kisses?

It’s a totally different smile from all the smiles he showed us before. His eyes sparkle with unconfined joy.

We think Pai never experienced something like this before.

It’s proven by how often Prapai says something along the lines of "I've never done this before, you know?" And how it's a sign of the journey of discovery he's in.

He's finding out all of these new things in his first ever relationship.

He wants to share them with Sky. And since he's an eager puppy, he’s all happily going "Look! I did this for the first time!"

In turn for Sky, who has been in a relationship before, but was not cared for during it, all of Prapai's discoveries are discoveries for himself too. He's finding out what real love is like.

Prapai: You know, I've never cleaned up someone before.

Sky: You know, no one has ever done this for me before.

They discover and learn together.

Sky teaches Prapai how a true relationship should look like - the boy isn’t even aware he does, he’s just being himself, but with his feelings for Prapai it’s inevitable. The love he offers Prapai is the guide.

Prapai teaches Sky how to be happy again, how to love again, how to not be afraid again.

But who said Prapai isn’t scared himself? The man has all the love to give, he’s a natural caretaker. He’s been born to give.

But with it comes the inevitable danger of being used. Sky doesn’t use Pai. And maybe, this is the whole point.

Prapai and Sky

It says a lot that Prapai waited for 3 months before actively going to PhayuRain's place one day to get a hold of Sky’s number. We see he tried before, but got interrupted. But if we go deeper, if Pai would have REALLY wanted Sky's number, he could have gotten it before. He waited 3 months to get it. And we think that's the cue. He'd been debating with himself for weeks, because he couldn't get Sky out of his mind. He couldn't sleep with others anymore because it just didn't bring any joy anymore. It felt wrong. It's safe to say the three times he slept with someone might have happened within a week after he met Sky (because let’s be honest, Pai is on the active side when it's about sex. He doesn't need to wait) It took him approx, a week to realise he wants Sky, and no one else when it's about sexual pleasure. It took him 3 months (!!) to really make up his mind and for SURE get Sky's number. We think this is what says it all.

If he hadn't been burned before, he wouldn't have waited that long. He could have gotten Sky's number before through Phayu or Rain. He could have tried to get another night with Sky. Just sex. GREAT sex, but after all, only sex. But no. He decided to ponder over Sky, kept replaying their time. A clear sign he's debating with himself. Should he? Should he not? Pai is a smart boy. Yet, he went to Saifah, “Hey, what's the meaning if I can't stop thinking about him?" A question he could easily answer himself. He got the validation he searched for through Saifah, and promptly went ahead with a plan he surely had in mind for a while.

All the scenes we didn't see, but would have been highly interesting, would have clued us in.

Aka the drive from the university to Sky's apartment, when Pai "picked up" Sky the first time.What did they do during the drive? Did they talk? Did Pai steal glances?

Another key scene for us is when Sky falls into the memory right in front of Pai before they got breakfast.

Cards on the table..

Who would be able to make sense of the retreat from Sky, who hadn't been hurt before?

Pai sees the hurt. And for someone to be able to see the hurt, the one must have experienced hurt before.

He reacts perfectly that moment. He draws Sky out of the building to get food (bc we all know food can help immensely in such a situation bc it changes the body reaction) I don't think anyone would do it/see it, who doesn't have any experience with it.

Again, in summary, and I can’t stress enough about it: Who’d do that if they didn’t know what being hurt feels like?

What does it NEED for someone to see it in someone else? And how much MORE does it need for someone to go "How can I help you?" after recognizing the hurt in the other?

Prapai was genuinely concerned. He dropped all his smiles and playboy-ish ways immediately. All masks fell.

Another instance is the boardroom scene.

Excuse me if we go a bit off course for a moment, but there is literally no other way to word it:

The boardroom behind the scenes was very telling.

How Fort and Peat remain in their position on top of the table, not just because they're doing a scene, but we think deep down Fort is caging Peat with his body, he can easily just wrap himself on top of him to protect him if needed. And we think it's something he shows in Prapai too.

When did Pai fall for Sky?

Hard to say. We can’t possibly know. But what we know is:

When Sky kept pushing Prapai away and not falling for his charms/money/sex, Prapai might have hoped that maybe this time risking his heart to love again would not be a bad idea. And maybe this time this "cold" person might be exactly who he's been looking for all this time.

Prapai saw in Sky his own façade. To be a playboy, you also need to play a role. Sky was the ice prince, Prapai was all smiles and charm, but in some of his interactions he's also straight up sassy and cold. We think he definitely did his fair share of "this means nothing, it's sex, just take what you want and leave me be" like Sky did to him.

It is an instant connection?

This study is a collab of @fortpeat (who also did ALL the work with the screencaps *smooches*) and @moriano and @akitbeast and @bird-inacage and @mb-praiskyfortpeat and ofc me :3

#prapaisky #love in the air #paisky #lita #prapai x sky #skyprapai #love in the air series #love in the air the series #fortpeat #lita meta

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kaeyapilled · 9 months

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trying to put my (mostly) child kaeya headcanons in one spot. brace yourself this is gonna be so long

first i think he was around 8 years old when he was left in mondstadt.

before that he lived with his father always moving from place to place. or maybe... i dont know honestly. they didn't live in khaenri'ah (whatever's left of it) because i like the idea that kaeya is the last hope for a place he's only heard stories about. for people he has barely met. and he yearns for it all the same, enough to run away as a stowaway on a ship just for the slim chance he'll get to meet it, to return to a place he only knows through other people's memories... yeah it's a thought i like to entertain. so anyway i dont know where exactly kaeya lived before my headcanons for this are really vague lmao. im torn between making him be raised in some corner of teyvat, or somewhere very abyss touched, or... a secret third thing i dont yet know...

i think his mother died when he was so young he has barely any recollection of her and it haunts him a bit. he cant remember what she looked like. to have an idea he can just look in a mirror though. he's her spitting image.

unsure about siblings... i think he didnt have any

i dont think his father was abusive. neglectful maybe. he was really awful at the father job but mostly because of how emotionally distant he was. he never hit kaeya or went out of his way to be cruel to him, he was just very stern. kaeya was a child who didn't really know comfort. all his basic needs were met, but his father just wasn't the type to hug or say words of encouragement, to calm him down from nightmares, to soothe a fever beyond just bitter medicine and leaving kaeya laid down on the cot alone. i think the closest they ever got to that sort of connection was when he taught kaeya their clan's history, which we know he did from canon. that piece of paper where the handwriting shows an adult guiding a child's hand on the paper makes me. Feel Things. he was not a soft man or a good father by any means but. *gestures vaguely*

and you know what. i think he loved kaeya in his own way. which is to say that he loved kaeya more as a means to an end than as a son. or maybe not. maybe leaving kaeya was more difficult for him than i give him credit for. i cant really decide. either way 2/10 for effort his parenting sucked and left deep scars in this poor poor child BUT he was not a heartless asshole is what im trying to say

anyway kaeya has very bittersweet very mixed feelings about him. he left his own son all alone in an unfamiliar land for unclear reasons. placed a burden nobody should ever have to carry on the shoulders of a child. he never embraced him or told him he loved him. but at the same time we see kaeya in game trying to understand his father's motivations for abandoning him there. that maybe a happier life could have been a factor. his safety. assuming this is, like, true. i headcanon that it is. it's not the entire reason by far. but it could have been part of it. maybe that's called "wishful thinking". we'll find out one day i hope

i don't really know what to make of the entire "you're our last hope" thing. as in, what exactly does that entail. what did his father tell him. im just kinda waiting patiently for them to actually tell us what's up. i can tell you it was a ridiculous amount of pressure on kaeya though. he might have been mature for his age and forced to grow up faster than he should have but a lot of it was simply beyond his comprehension. like, that's an entire seven year old child. he shouldve been playing with toys. anyway. kaeya who has felt guilt as his standard everyday main emotion since he was little

i think kaeya's father taught him to speak, read and write in common, so kaeya could understand people pretty well when he was left in mondstadt and could read basic stuff

an extension of this headcanon: i think each region has their own language besides just common tongue, and that in general people can speak both, especially in the big cities, while in rural areas people will probably only speak the region's mother tongue. i read a mutual's headcanon like this once and it rewired my brain so i borrowed it. also common varies from place to place because there are different dialects from mixing with the nations' other languages. to make it fun!

so when kaeya gets to mondstadt he can't speak mondstadtian specifically but he can speak common and the ragnvindrs can all speak both. eventually as he stays there kaeya learns mondstadt's language and loses the accent (a very conscious effort from his part)

more on the accent: if you listen closely to him nowadays, some word or other still sounds odd, maybe too stiff, the way he rolls his tongue on certain letters- but it's very subtle

kaeya hasn't spoken his mother tongue in so long he inevitably has forgotten certain things, and he was so young when he stopped speaking it that there are things he simply never learned. i think this haunts kaeya sooo bad. he's someone who's always trying to keep little pieces of his past, of things that have a lot of emotional value for him; he's someone who values memories, in particular physical, tangible pieces of memories. and we see him do this with his roots, like adding khaenri'ahn symbols and motifs to his outfits, saving slips of paper written by his father about his family's story, etc..

so anyway the fact he's forgetting bits and pieces of his mother tongue makes him grasp desperately at whatever's still left of it in his memory. i wonder if he writes what he can om scraps of paper, or maybe an actual notebook; i wonder also if he did similar things as a child too? though it's something he'd have to keep insanely well hidden and the paranoia about someone finding it out would absolutely eat him alive

okay back to his childhood. when he's taken in by the ragnvindrs i think he's very quiet and only speaks when spoken to. he is so unfathomably scared and lonely and everything is terrifyingly unfamiliar but any genuine manifestation of fear and anxiety and homesickness is saved for the dead of night when everyone's asleep and won't see/hear him cry. he keeps to himself, acts very polite, doesn't bother anyone with asking for help or for anything beyond what he's already been offered.

diluc was very happy about having another kid his age living under the same roof and almost immediately saw him as a little brother and kaeya simply could not match the enthusiasm. they took it as him just being shy, and to an extent that was part of it, but also he simply did not want to be there at all. no matter how wonderfully kind those people were to him, kaeya missed his father and his mother and the homeland he didnt even know in person but that was his biggest responsibility. it was such an enormous change and he missed the familiarity so much it made him ill. like literally. i think he spent his first or second week with the ragnvindrs bedridden

im very fond of the hc that kaeya took ill easily as a child.

kaeya had nightmares often. i absolutely cannot see him asking for comfort in any direct way. most of the time he'd just hold his own hand through it. other times he'd slip out of bed and see there was still light coming from the study. he'd sit on an armchair next to crepus, who already knew kaeya would hardly ever speak about what was making him upset, and watch him work until he fell asleep again.

i think kaeya was a very scrawny kid who looked a bit younger than he actually was. next to diluc (who im always torn between making just seven months older than him, or a year and seven months older) he seemed even tinier. while diluc was the picture of a healthy boy, all full red cheeks and bright eyes, kaeya was too lean, eyes too tired, sometimes distant, like he's not entirely present, lost in thought. you could see a sadness in him sometimes that seemed deeper than anything a child his age should know. kaeya was quiet not just because he didn't speak a lot, but because he seemed to exist silently. if he disappeared to be alone for a while and didn't want you to find him, you would not find him.

and anyway. i like the idea of him slowly allowing himself to be louder as he becomes more comfortable with the ragnvindrs. and revealing his more sarcastic side lol. he's always been quick witted, he was just too timid at first

child kaeya who was such a weird kid. he spoke in a way that often lacked the childishness expected from someone who's yet to turn nine. said odd cryptic things with zero explanation. banned from sharing bedtime stories after scaring diluc with overly fucked up khaenri'ahn folk tales. normalest child alive. i think he bit into a crystalfly once

oh and kaeya absolutely came up with the whole "i come from a family of pirates" thing as a kid. i think he read about pirates in a book once and was completely enamored with the idea. and one side effect of being a secret agent pawn spy is the ability to spin wild tales on the spot. so anyway did he convince diluc he was toootally a pirate. yes. diluc believed him for way too long

no wonder he's so good at telling stories to kids nowadays. he's had practice

about the eyepatch: i can never settle on just one headcanon!! option one: his eye was fine as a kid and he only wore it sometimes for the pirate roleplay, then he started wearing it everyday after The Fight because diluc wounded him; option two: he always wore the eyepatch because there is something abyss/khaenri'ah related going on with his right eye (don't ask me what exactly. though im fond of the idea that it's connected to his father and it's basically what allows him to fulfill the spy role, in some nebulous way.) and during the fight diluc aimed for it on purpose; there's probably a secret third option im forgetting about. i lean more towards option one these days i think.

okay im out of headcanons for now. i bet that the moment i click post im gonna remember ten more. but its ok. i can make another post if needed. never forget that i can speak about kaeya for literal hours and that, if prompted, i will do so

#is anyone going to read this this is SO long #my posts #kaeyaposting #kaeya #kaeya alberich #there. it's alive

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tiredassmage · 9 months

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from the 25 questions post, let's have 1, 7, annnd 14 for trooper!Tyr :)

[25 Character Questions for the Writer] Kicks my feet! Thank you for indulging me. x3

1 - What is your character's favorite food and why?

Keep your high-rated restaurants and meticulously planned dates. Tyr is scouring the streets for the corner food truck selling fried kebabs and greased concoctions. And Elara has, unfortunately, hooked him on Kaasi brandy. She’s taken to smacking him on the shoulder when he breaks out a bottle from Force-knows-not what sources, but it certainly must be to his fancy for him to risk potentially trading with Imperial interests even by proxy or distantly.

Street vendors range from some of the best food you can find this side of the Hydian Way to downright ireputable, and Tyr would like to think many years running past a fair lot of them back and forth to work before his official days in service to the Republic has given him an alright enough eye to discern what you’re looking for. Point him at something with a bit of spice or heat, or a truck with smoke pluming out the side, and he’s going to be eyeing that menu. Leave no stone unturned. The strongest of his cravings would prefer a spot that forgoes such nuisances as cutlery. Dig in with your hands or it’s just not the right stuff.

As for why? It's relatively universal, and a mash of familiar comforts and whatever might be local. It's a bit of an adventure. And Tyr, admittedly, probably doesn't realize that he likes the adrenaline of such. xD

[And now the rest are about to give me lots of emotions below klsnflsdfs]

7 - What does your character miss the most?

Honestly? I think he misses that exhausted look his mother used to give him… a lot. Because he was… a bit of a handful. They moved around a lot, bouncing from job to job - sometimes world to world - for his mother as she could find employment after the nebulous hole his father left behind in their lives (she’d never talk about it, never tell him more than the man was never present, and he didn’t need to be).

As… tends to happen, her rambunctious teen of a son often told her she worried too much, and gave her the crooked smile to match. Yes, even the day she found out he’d been illegally racing swoopbikes for months without telling her.

He promised he’d stay in touch when he up and enlisted with the Republic SIS. He’s kept sending her parts of his paychecks for years now, but getting into SpecForces put strain on a somewhat already burdened relationship. There’s times he misses coming home with his busted lip and scuffed up knees because he got in the way of the wrong type of crowd trying to make it home from the mechanic’s shop or the tracks, the way she’d tilt his head up and click her tongue in disapproval at him before setting their meager dinner preparations aside to clean him up. It was a gentle and stinging love, all at once. She’d always tell him he was going to get in over his head someday.

I think a part of him sometimes wishes he could tell her, you were right, ma. And it sucks. He’s not… very sure of the man he’s grown into. But his mother's love was unconditional still, despite their imperfections. And he's not entirely lost a younger boy's longing for the galaxy to just make sense. And to be told it's all going to be alright.

14 - Who would your character never betray?

Ough, loredumping warning because this is. This one's got a bit of a loaded answer.

It’s a bit of a contradictory answer, but his core teammates of Havoc Squad come to mean a lot to him. Hyroh (@exeuntlegacy ehehehe new blog tag new blog tag) and Aric have been by his side from the beginning and Elara quickly finds a place among the boys. Even if they drive her to wit’s end sometimes. [Please send her some brandy and maybe get her a raise. She’s dealing with far too much of Their Shit sometimes.]

In short, it’s contradictory because he does, technically, start out betraying all of them before he even knows them. As a plant from the SIS in SpecForce to investigate Garza’s command and rumors of SpecForce defections, and given the two departments’ notorious mistrust for one another, the news does… not go well when Tyr pipes up and reveals the truth about his recruitment to the squad and the general after trading information about Havoc’s reason for being on Nar Shadaa freely with their contact there, SIS Agent Jonas Balkar.

But what follows over the next several years of their continued service together in Havoc is admittedly a roller coaster. There’s some highs in their victories, and there’s some definite lows and fuck-ups on Tyr’s part as a young and relatively inexperienced commanding officer - one of them is, indeed, being a once-SIS plant. But ultimately, Tyr’s left to his place in Havoc by the SIS because the squad’s already in a bad way and by General Garza because Tyr, while he says he won’t fight the general if she wants to strip his rank and position in Havoc and SpecForce entirely, does make a fair argument that she’ll only make more problems for herself, and kicking him out will only draw attention and detract from the hunt for Tavus.

Again, not all of this pleases his squadmates. But they don’t ever entirely give up on him in… a way the SIS seems to. He’s cut loose, essentially, traded over to actually fully live in his position with Havoc. And that stings a little, honestly.

Tyr manages to piss off Hyroh several times. Tyr fucks up, really. They have different opinions because of their exposures to the galaxy, to the Republic’s underbelly and its flaws. Tyr’s a bright-eyed idealist and, early on, pretty damn loyal to it to actual fault. Hyroh actually breaks his nose over it when Tyr puts a blaster bolt through Tavus. And, with time, Tyr eventually recognizes he… deserved that, more than likely. [In time, Tyr will express this as a badge of honor, much to Hyroh's embarrassment.]

Aric and him go… a bit back and forth. Jorgan’s a more experienced soldier, a more experienced leader, and in a way scruffs his new Lieutenant carefully by his little scarves and tries to teach him the ropes as best he can because they might as well try not to get each other killed. Tyr’s an alright kid, he’s just. Inexperienced. An idealist. Aric doesn’t like the truth that he’s an SIS spy, but they smooth things out, eventually. They come back around. Havoc’s really the only place left that Tyr has to hold to at that point. The SIS has left him, Garza’s been successfully pissed off that the SIS went around her. He’s really got no choice but to try to work through it with the rest of them. And, despite the initial blow up, Tyr tries. He does. Genuinely. He learns. And Jorgan can’t hold that against him. And he makes Hyroh happy. That’s… still his younger brother, even if their relationship is… only sort of on the mend, at that point.

And Elara is perhaps the most steadfast of his supporters. Her line of, “I’ve always preferred hard truths to easy lies,” really shows up for him. It’s unsettling, sure, but she recognizes it must have taken a lot for Tyr to come forward with his SIS ties willingly, without official orders from his superiors to do so. While she’s less actively a teacher to him, he does learn a lot from her. And, admittedly, he had his reservations at first, her being a former Imperial. But she doesn’t ever let him down. So, the three of them in particular. The rest of the squad, he’s more distant with but, by the end of things, Tyr learns a lot about how you count on the people actively beside you. He learns kinda what drove Tavus to act as he did, even if its several years too late and after he’s gotten a lot of blood on his hands about it. Havoc's not afraid to challenge him when he’s in the wrong. But they haven’t abandoned him, either. He’s made a lot of fucking mistakes along the way. He has. Maybe he doesn’t really deserve their faith in him, but… to Havoc Squad. Whatever this galaxy throws their way, he intends to do his damned best to see them through it together.

This is all sealed particularly by their experiences together on Oricon as part of the wildly under-prepared rescue operation for the forces the Republic had already lost on the planet and then getting roped into fighting the Revanites alongside Theron Shan and Lana Beniko. Tyr's realization of the... kind of systematic flaws in their operations for the Republic, and the Republic's handling of such operations overall is... a kind of gradual and building experience - something Hyroh and Aric, especially, are familiar with well before Tyr has entirely grappled with that particular serpent. So it's... all the more of a statement to him that they never cast him out.

They get real damn begrudging sometimes, lol. Sometimes it's a bit like, how many times must we teach you this lesson, young man? But. Y'know. What's family if you don't occasionally squabble about ideals and execution, I guess?

#answered #vs: kiss with a fist / self control in locker room showers [trooper!tyr]#i simply have. so many feelings about this man.#i also owe trooper an apology letter bc of him like. it really hit me this time.#i also owe one to jorgan i've grown. i've grown really fond of him this time and their dynamic together.#swtor ocs #friends ocs #ch: hyroh kaah #trooper!hyroh #clutching them in my fist and watching them go squeak squeak squeak tbh #like a stress ball.

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sparklyslug · 2 years

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Thoughts on Steve being an Aragorn-type character, and do any of the other ST characters give you the lotr feelings?

I’d love to hear your ST/Lotr thoughts!

WHOA WHAT A GIFT OF AN ANON MESSAGE! Expound upon random LOTR/ST thoughts? Don't threaten me with a good time, sheesh.

(Promo moment: @greenlikethesea and I wrote a fic about Steve and Eddie going to see the Fellowship movie release, and having talks about what character they see themselves as, you can read it here)

STEVE AS ARAGORN: Look at Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, and tell me he isn't the reluctant babysitter of this bunch. But also, he is brave, he is adept as a warrior (LISTEN just because Steve gets his ass handed to him a lot of the time doesn't mean he CAN'T FIGHT, it unfortunately just means other people can fight better, this is not untrue for Aragorn as well), he has a deeply romantic heart and his most personal goals are aligned towards that: he just wants love, kinship, family, even with all these "bigger" dramas and goals happening around him. He inspires loyalty in others, his family background is WOOOOO COMPLICATED but that hasn't left him incapable of extending compassion and love to others. Aragorn is also a certified wifeguy, so jot that down too.

And there's the way that Aragorn is kind of in between two places when it comes to his identity. He is someone who was born with a sort of status, but is very much betwixt and between two worlds. He was raised very aware of his heritage, but can't access it. He was brought up in Rivendell, but he is not an elf. He is part of the Dundedain rangers, but they're a wandering bunch and though they do rally around him at the end of the saga (I get why the movies didn't have the scope to bring in more of the rangers, but DAMN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN COOL TO SEE THEM) he operates alone a lot of the time. Steve similarly across the reach of the series is frequently operating alone, especially in s1 and s2 when he's fully in his own bubble of the plot until he connects with Dustin and then further in s3 with Robin. Steve is kind of of a "normal" popular world, but also increasingly divorced from it. He's an outsider on multiple levels: he's not really a part of the world of status and popularity he once embodied, but he is also not easily accepted by your Robins and your Eddies, who know who he is enough that they can't initially see him as one of them, even though he's not really the guy he used to be either. There's a lot of distrust of Aragorn, especially in Fellowship, and it takes a lot of slow plodding on his part to really work his way into the group.

I also was literally having this message exchange with @andropogonfalons yesterday, and he said something that absolutely has haunted me: that Steve wears the legacy of being the king, of literally being King Steve, with a lot of doubt, a lot of complicated shame and uncertainty. But it's a mantle that he'll pick back up when it's necessary (facing down Billy comes to mind first, there are other examples I'm sure), and I think as the series goes on and the situation calls for it he finds ways of occupying that kind of power of King Steve (the confidence, the leadership, etc) on his own terms, so it becomes less of a burden on him and more something he can apply his own skills to, to shape into being the type of king he wants to be, feels he can be.

JONATHAN AS BOROMIR. what you need to know about me is that I AM A BOROMIR GIRL, OKAY? I fucking love that guy, so never think that anything I say about him is at all with a feeling of disrespect because hooooooooo my emotions. Jonathan, like Boromir, had to grow up too soon. Had to shoulder the burdens of his entire family's expectations and needs, without getting a lot of thanks for it (even from his mom, in early s1 especially, it is heartbreaking). He is clearly Lonnie's "preferred" son, and he fucking hates that, it is no kind of privilege or honor to be so obviously the favorite. In his mind if Lonnie can't be a father to Will, he sure as shit is no kind of father to Jonathan. Likewise, he points out in s1 that Lonnie only ever wants to push his interests onto his sons, without regarding them as people, who they are and what they want or enjoy for themselves. BIG OL DENETHOR VIBES THERE. The way Boromir is so protective of the hobbits, specifically good to them and literally laying down his life for them-- gOSH. Boromir is the ultimate big brother, in his life and for the Fellowship, and that's Jonathan.

EDDIE AS BOROMIR. Okay like I said I have a lot of Boromir thoughts and feelings they can't be contained in one person. I think if there's any one person in the show who cuts himself no slack at all for his one moment of human weakness, it's Eddie. No one can resist the ring, and no one could have helped Chrissy in that moment, but Eddie can't see that. He can't let himself off the hook for that in any way, and his guilt and shame over that one lapse in "strength" defines his further choices and ultimately leads to his death. Ha! Fuck!

EDDIE AS FARAMIR. So while I think maybe Eddie would cast himself as Boromir, I think it would be for all the shameful fuckup reasons, and not giving himself (OR BOROMIR) enough credit for Boromir's essential kindness, his strength, his nobility, his ability to lead in a way that's different than what Aragorn does but is no less powerful and inspiring. And these qualities are all also shared by Faramir. No one expects anything from Faramir. No one looks to him for great deeds or saving the day, they're just like-- there's Faramir, off in the corner, with his books and his learning and shit, he's no warrior, whatever. But Faramir has the capacity for greatness in him, and has in fact been expressing leadership and power the entire time, just not in ways the people around him can see it. Faramir is likewise pretty hard on himself, doesn't really recognize his own qualities either, because he's spent long enough being told that they don't exist. Power has no appeal to Faramir, being one of the few men (few BEINGS, damn) who specifically can resist the ring, and who easily yields up his Stewardship of Gondor so Aragorn can be king with like a, yeah no big man, it's all yours. Power is not a motivator for him, he just wants to do what's right, and look after the people under his command, the people he cares about. He is also someone who would say he has a cynical heart while spouting the most romantic shit imaginable, and if you want to just like, think about his courtship of Eowyn with me and cry, that would be nice.

ELEVEN AS GANDALF. A powerful being whose origins are largely unknown to the people around her, she has otherworldly gifts but really mostly wants to spend her time with her goofy hobbit friends, being a part of their normal lives and holding their safety as being basically on equal importance to the safety of, like, the world. As long as the Shire remains, hope remains. As long as Hawkins remains, hope remains, etc. Gandalf is literally Tolkien's analog to more or less angels, and yet with all that ultimate cosmic power he really wants to spend his time in the Shire mostly using his powers for party tricks and smoking weed. It's not only a preference, I think it's something like a need. When you have all that otherworldly power, when you are so apart from the rest of the people around you, you need that anchoring force of like, the hobbits who just think you're cool and funny and trust you even though you're kind of weird. El's relationship to the Party has again and again anchored her back into her humanity, bringing her back from the edge when she's teetering over a line towards some truly dark places. There's also connectivity in how she loses her powers (the death of Gandalf the Grey) but then comes back even stronger (Gandalf the White).

WILL AS FRODO. It's not just in the haunted big eyes. Frodo gets caught up in a global conflict beyond his understanding and certainly beyond what he's prepared for. Frodo certainly has more of a choice than Will does, at least in that he is presented with one at all at the council of Elrond, but Will makes choices too when it comes to fighting off the Mind Flayer's possession, continuing to help his friends. He pays the price, arguably higher than basically any of them, his role in the events not just a physical burden but an emotional and mental strain that chips away at him. I don't know what s5 is gonna be, obviously, but if it's more Will-centric I can envision (EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES ME V SAD) some variation of the yes, we did save the Shire-- but not for me conclusion for Will. Sometimes the price is too high, and even if you pay it and you win, there isn't always a way to just come back from that and live "normally". Also: haunted big eyes. Also: he is gay.

MIKE AS SAM: I really started this by going "will is frodo but mike is nOT SAM" and the more I thought about it the more I was like, fuck, yeah no that actually really works. The stubborn loyalty, the drive to get shit done while everyone else is kind of standing around going ????what do we do. Mike has an essential core of decency, and if he is the heart of the party then the heart of the party is absolutely Sam. Also, if Will gets his Frodo conclusion to the show, then I can see Mike being the one who is able to settle back into normal life, marry Rosie Cotton and raise a family. Not out of any lack of love or respect for Will and what they've been through (I don't ship it, but I do love the complications of the childhood best friendship that as you grow up gets strained and confused but no less loving) but just because he hasn't suffered in the same ways, and carries different burdens differently.

LUCAS AS MERRY, DUSTIN AS PIPPIN: the comparisons aren't always that deep and like, I feel like the show is genre-savvy enough that it consciously knows this. Four hobbits, four buddies, it just works. The carefree two of the bunch who get swept up into the broader action, without any specific skin in the game other than their desire to help and protect their friends. Merry, the more mature of the two, seeks to grow up a little into the conflict they're thrust into, through his service to Theoden and further heroism particularly (so the Rohirrim are...Hawkins basketball?? Hey maybe. Jason in this case is certainly not Theoden, because I love Theoden and Jason can kick rocks, though they certainly both know their way around a rousing motivational speech, fuck, wait okay maybe in this case Grima is like, the forces of classicism and privilege and prejudice whispering in Jason's ear and warping his worldview? NO STOP HANNAH WALK AWAY). Dustin is presented as comic relief, but he has his own journey of maturation while still staying true to himself (NEVER CHANGE DUSTIN HENDERSON) and also goes about collecting big brother mentor figures and protectors like nobody's business.

NANCY AS LEGOLAS, ROBIN AS GIMLI. Okay admittedly this was started as just a haha! who's left! kind of thing but also THE MORE I THINK ABOUT IT-- Nancy as the heir to a family situation that she's not really comfortable with, is very much OF her family but doesn't really connect with it and honestly from the events of Fellowship on, like, if Legolas even goes back to Mirkwood it's not for long, and he certainly doesn't ever take up his father's throne. The badass sharpshooter with a dry sense of humor and a SHARP sense of what's going on, not that anyone listens to her pronouncements of doom when they REALLY REALLY SHOULD BE. Robin as Gimli is just fucking funny okay, she's got no filter and she'll say what she needs to say but also fuck with her at your peril because she's got a core of iron. And, also, a soft spot for the ladies (three strands of Vickie's hair?? oMG AN HEIRLOOM A TREASURE) and also something something axe as a historic symbol of lesbianism.

VECNA AS SAURON. Okay yes this is a little bit of an easy reach, but I am thinking specifically of Sauron in the fall of Numenor (reaching for that Silmarillion lore now babyyyyy), and Vecna as Henry Creel: the seductive beauty, the easy way of getting others on his side and influencing them, the ability to persuade that despite his obvious and known allyship to the forces of extreme darkness (Sauron to Morgoth, Henry to being a proto serial killer who murdered his mother and sister), he is still able to win the confidence of others enough so that they keep him around, thinking he's controlled but really enabling his acts of future villainy, just with more subtlety. We just get the quickest little bit of how Henry became One, but the fact that he not only went through that training process but also was kept on as an orderly? BREMMER WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? Clearly the trust wasn't absolute (tasers, yikes) but also clearly this is someone who was otherwise able to interact freely with the kids at Hawkins lab, under serious watch but otherwise able to operate with impunity within those confines, just as Sauron was. Even El tries to appeal to him as though he can be redeemed, which speaks as much about her as it does about him honestly, but despite everything he's done she really seems to believe he's not a monster. Serious Sauron behavior. And then, yeah, easy reach time, when his ultimate villainy is revealed he is robbed of the ability to hide it behind a beautiful exterior and can only be seen as the monster he truly is. If this is the way anyone finds out that Sauron used to be a hottie bo bottie before he was a disembodied eye, I consider it my great honor.

#this was a very fun self indulgent way to spend my morning thank you anon #stranger rings #EYYYYYYY #asks #lotr #stranger things #stranger things meta #mop #fair ithilien verse

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thepoetfrommars · 2 years

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A note to myself...

Hey lil guy, how are you doing? Look, I hope this letter finds you, through heart or magic, but I hope it finds you. If it doesn't, at least it's something we can use to teach our children isn't it?

I know life is hard. Mom and dad growing apart and without a pilar in your life it must be awful to have to deal with all those emotions and happenings all at the same time. You keep thinking you can't open up to others as to not be a burden don't you? The whole schmuck of your feelings weighing too much in your shoulders so what would happen if you put them in someone else's. But hey, things get better. I can't say our problems go away or anything like that, but they grow and become different ones. You become a different person. We are still learning how to deal with depression, dad is learning how to deal with us and we are learning how to deal with mom. She has had depression for the longest time and we never even noticed, always though she was the happiest (and most tired) person on earth didn't you? Oh well. Look, cry when you have to. Cry your pain away, scream when you have to. Do the drama you deserve and let those feelings out. If I could i would hug you, believe me. I know how much you need a tight one. But look at me! Fill yourself with hope! I'm doing biology like we always dreamed of and it's way cooler than we could ever think of it. We met fantastic people and we're getting out footing on he scene. Will we get to thirty? I don't know. I cant make promises for our future future me, but you can be damn sure I'll try. Not just for them. Mom, dad, grandma, all of them. For ourselves too. I love you lil guy. I love you a lot because your strength got us where we are. You are beyond the superhero you always dreamed of being. And remember, even in the dark that is the night sky, the moon always watched over us. She always loved us. And becoming a star is something we'll only do when our work here is done and we've left a footprint in this life.

Raise a toast. To the greatest poet to ever Wal the earth. Mars himself.

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thesleepy1 · 2 years

Text

Papa Witcher And His Witcherling

A/N: So @jezebel1945 requested a Lambert fic! Whoop whoop. We got another one ladies, gents, and non-binary individuals. One with a happy ending no less. What a challenge lol.

I don’t usually write gendered readers but this one was specifically requested so I wanted to do what the request asked for. Typically, my fics have gender neutral readers unless stated otherwise. So just a head’s up to those who come to my page for non gendered fics.

“...Is there a chance you could write Lambert x Female reader where she tells him by some miracle she’s pregnant and what his reaction would be? And how protective he would get the further along you get? I would love a happy ending for it as well…”

Pairings: Lambert x F!reader

Summary: You're pregnant and your witcher is infertile. You really should not have taken that potion from the passing mage. Especially if you had known how protective Lambert would get when you started to show. Hopefully the little one doesn’t mind the attention.

Word count: 2,384

Warnings: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, miscommunication, foul language, suggestive themes, threats of violence,

Part 2

It was a cool spring day. The birds were chirping and there was the scent of lavender in the air. A light fog had greeted you that morning so the noon was filled with a dewy mist covering every blade of grass. On such a day, you came to the conclusion that you were without a doubt, stupid.

That was simply what you were. Very, very unintelligent and lacking any proper common sense. It did not take a scholar to know not to take potions from passing mages. Even if those potions smelled like honeyed hibiscus and rose tea. And especially if the potion was labeled in elder and even with the lessons Lambert gave you, you could not read them.

The mage had been so kind too. You had been in the market on a bustling day and she was running a stand selling all sorts of potions. You had gone out to run your daily chores but were distracted by a sweet older man and his children. The man had three children, two that were clearly twins and one a year or two older. They had been playing some sort of game that involved lots of running around. The eldest of the three had bumped into and quickly apologized before running off. The man, having had seen the little accident, merely clapped his eldest on the shoulder and kindly explained to watch where they were going. There was no scolding in the gentlemen’s tone as he spoke to his child. He merely wanted his child to be careful.

The longing on your face must have been anything but subtle because the mage kindly cleared her throat to get your attention. “Would you be interested in some tea to soothe the soul? It won’t guarantee everything you want in life, but it can help you get there,” she had said in a soft, melodious voice. The sound reached you, despite the ceaseless hum of the crowd and you were then inexplicably drawn to it.

So you bought the potion off her hands not truly knowing what it was and drank it with your afternoon meal. Then Lambert had returned to your little cottage later that night. He had been in the mood for something other than sleep and rest. Your rough around the edges witcher had held you so sweetly that night that you did not even notice the faint glow to your lower abdomen. Neither had Lambert, seeing as he was currently clueless to your foolishness.

And he would continue to be so if you didn’t work up the courage to tell him. Oh dear, how would he react? Did he ever want children? Ever had time to consider the prospect given who he was and his job? What if he did not want the burden of a child and left? Oh dear, indeed. What were you going to do if he left? You were not equipped to raise a child alone, let alone one that might either have magic or the likeness of a witcher.

You were not even certain if you would make it that far. There had never been a person on the continent that ever existed that had given birth with a witcher. That had carried a witcher’s child for that matter. You were not guaranteed to live and neither was the child currently swimming inside of you. The thought alone had you sinking onto the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest to have something to clutch onto.

Before you knew it, hours had passed with you on the floor and Lambert had returned from caring for his equipment. He entered the cottage only to be greeted with your dull-witted mess of a person. Instantly, because he was a kind witcher that loved you, he was on the ground with you. He did not dare touch you without your permissioned, just sat close and spoke to you in a cautious tone. You had heard the voice when he feral animals. “What’s wrong, my whirlwind?

“Oh, Lambchop, I’ve been such an idiot,” you moaned into your knees, hiding your face from Lambert’s gaze.

“Please, whirlwind. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things better.” With his sweet words, you cried. You could not bring yourself to tell your dear witcher. He was so good and he had never asked for the responsibility that came with caring for another living creature. “Please,” he begged once more, “If it's something I did, tell me and I’ll never do it again. Promise.”

You threw yourself into his chest, your face buried against his torso. “I’m pregnant.”

Lambert stiffened underneath you, his arms laid to his side. You cried harder, holding him tighter to savor the last few moments you would get with them. Tentatively he spoke, voice the roughest thing about him. “Oh…uh… Congratulations to you and your lover. Does一does he know?”

Sucking in a breath, you regrettably push yourself back from Lambert to stare up into his eyes. In the dark of the cottage, his eyes glowed the most tender of hues. “He does now.”

A beat and then Lambert spoke with confusion. “He一he does? Whirlwind, there’s no need to soften the blow for me. If there’s some other farmer or lord out there for you, I won’t stop you from going to him.” Tears were in Lambert’s eyes perhaps without his knowing. “He’ll be so h-happy to know the gift he’ll have once the little one is born.”

Lambert’s head sunk forward, ragged breaths entering his lungs. “And you’d be happier with someone who could even give you a baby in the first place.”

Your hand went to cradle his jaw and he let you. The weight of his head against the palm of your hand had you gasping for breath, for assurances. “Oh, Lampchop. I made a terrible mistake and took a draught made by a mage. I didn’t know what it would do. I promise you, I truly didn’t know. But I’m pregnant and I know without a doubt that they are yours.”

“You're pregnant with my child?”

A breath, the inhale and exhale of the lungs. “Yes.”

“Then why were you on the floor in the dark? What made you so distressed?” Lambert held the hand on his jaw with both of his own. The dirt from the stables had clung to his palms, dirtying your own fingers.

“Because I didn’t know how you would react. I-I feared that if you had known, you would leave. Lambert, you mean more to me than anything. And I know you have never once asked for this.” You pressed your head into his chest, unable to keep in contact with his intense gaze. “I didn’t want to push this onto you and make you feel as if you owed something to me. You owe me nothing Lambert. This baby owes you nothing. We owe you nothing.”

“Y-you don’t have to stay.”

The softest pair of lips were on you. He tasted of salt from tears and you tasted of the same. You cradled each other’s heads in your hands, leaning in until you were forced to part for air. Even then, it had ended too quickly. Lambert lifted your chin up to face him with the guide of his finger. “Whirlwind, I would stay forever if you’d have me. If your babe would have me for even a faction as long, I would be the happiest witcher to have ever lived. I would be so honored if you allowed me to be a father.”

You nuzzled your nose against Lambert’s, a smile forcing its way onto your face. “Thank you, thank you.” Gently, you grabbed his hand and laid it on the flat of your stomach. There was not yet a bump, only skin that was ever so slightly distended. “We would be ecstatic to have you in our lives, papa witcher.”

*****

Lambert had taken to being a father like a fish in water. The baby was not even born yet and he had begun to act like a highly paid knight. Your ever faithful soldier went wherever you went and did practically whatever you wanted. He was at your every beck and call. If you felt cold and wanted a blanket, he would give you three. If your feet were sore from a day of walking he would spend the rest of the afternoon messaging the aches away. If you were feeling peckish he would go out and hunt you a fat deer. The leftover meat would be dried, the marrow in the bones made into stew, and the hide became leather for little boots for the babe.

When Lambert had shown you the little boots that fit into the palm of his hands, you started crying with tears of joy and embraced Lambert as tightly as your extended stomach would allow. Lambert had never felt prouder of something in his entire life.

Then you had begun to show and things started to change. It was not like Lambert became distant or mean to you. It was far from that actually. He seemed to become more protective if that was even possible.

Before, whenever someone’s gaze would linger too long or made a poor comment they were met with a stare from a grumpy witcher. Now, if anyone did those things, they were lucky if they did not go home with a black eye and a sword through their chest. A witcher scared the most brave of men while he was out on a stroll. A witcher with a baby on the way made men shit themselves senseless.

It was honestly beginning to be quite difficult to get anything done with a fatherly witcher on your tail.

“Lampchop,” you stated firmly, expression dissatisfied with his latest antics. “Did you have to threaten the woodworker?” The new crib was fastened to the cart pulled by Lambert’s horse. It was a beautiful thing made out of madrone and birch. New linens and blankets were neatly folded over the horse’s back. You held the handful of fabrics to be made into different sized clothes when the time came.

“She was trying to cheat you out of more coin,” Lambert replied gruffly as if that explained the way he almost scared the poor woman trying to do her job to death.

“It was a very fine crib,” you insisted, “The coin spent would have been worth it.”

“Not if you didn’t need to spend it.”

“Lampchop.”

“What?”

“I want you to take the items we purchased home and then go back and apologize.”

He looked like he wanted to argue and if it had been earlier on in your relationship, he would have. Instead, the witcher who had grown since he met you all those years ago merely gave you a guilty expression and nodded. “Yes, my whirlwind.”

*****

A little corner in your little cottage was turned into a nursery. Lambert’s leather boots rested on the windowsill along with little wooden dolls and horses he whittled down for the baby. They were smooth as river stones and in the shapes of tiny witchers and tiny mages. You had giggled when he had shown them to you, an all knowing look in your eyes. “What if the little one wanted the toy mages to be heroes instead of the toy witchers?”

“My boy would not betray me so deeply,” Lambert feigned offense, hand over his heart. “He’ll be as smart as his mother. He’ll know who are the true heroes and who are the true villains, I’m sure of it.”

“What makes you so sure that the little one will be a boy?” you teased, hand gliding over the rail of the crib. “What if she's a girl?” Your hand gripped the wood tightly, awaiting Lambert’s response.

He must have sensed your concern because his face turned into a proud grin. “Then she’ll know that the horses are the heroes of every story and make sure no villainous mage or witcher lays a hand on her herd.” Lambert gestured to the somewhat large herd of toy horses. He had very enjoyed whittling and it showed with his mass cast of characters.

“We’ll even name her Geralt so that chestnut horses far and wide know she is friend not foe.”

You burst out laughing, the sound unbound by any guilt. The babe in kicked at the sound, wanting very much to be a part of the excitement. You clutched at them through your skin but could not stop laughing. “We’re not naming her Geralt.”

“Geralta?”

*****

When the babe was born in the early winter later that year, she was not named Geralta. You and Lambert were so preoccupied showing the babe all the love in the world that she did not gain a name until weeks into her life. It seemed like such a big thing to forget, but the three of you had fared fine without a name for her. She was simply referred to as love, darling, the greatest thing to have ever lived, bug, witcherling, and little whirlwind. On some occasions, little menace, when she was being just a little menace to society.

But finally, you and Lambert settled on a name after the issue was brought to your attention. She was named Mare after the fact that she was exactly as Lambert had described her to be. She must have heard in the womb or Lambert must have some prophetic abilities. Her little tuft of hair was the same chestnut as Geralt’s horse and her eyes shone with the same hue of a witcher’s. Mare had your face, the same nose and the same lips, but there was no doubt that she was a little witcherling.

A little witcherling with an affinity for horses just as her uncle Geralt. When he came to visit along with the others of the keep, he and Mare were attached at the hip. Where Geralt would wander, Mare would want to follow despite her limited mobility skills. Lambert had almost grown jealous if it were not for the fact that Mare still reached out her small hands for Lambert’s help.

No matter if she was more fond of Geralt’s company or horses, Lambert was still her papa witcher.

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landinoandco · 3 years

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Hey could you do one with max verstappen, where the reader a fight about him not helping around the house (witch he doesnt do because he is just tired from working hard but the reader dont know) so they yell at max and he suddenly walks away but then they find him crying in bed, because hes overworked and feels like hes never gonna be good enough at being a driver and the readers boyfriend. And feels like he can only dissapoint the reader, his dad and cristian. But the reader comforts him. Tnx

Because I'm not good enough...

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: angsty

Word count: 2 k

Requests are open :)

You were sat at the dining room table, staring out at the empty seat in front of you. Your arms crossed across your chest and your lip in between your teeth. You had been sat there for an hour - in the grand scheme of things an hour didn’t seem like such a long time but it was his final warning and an hour was just long enough to allow for your anger to boil over.

Dinner was in the fridge - the same dinner you had cooked an hour ago, your phone lay screen up on the table - the same phone you used to call Max two hours and a half hours ago, he told you he was on his way home. Home whilst you were in the UK was 25 minutes away from the Redbull HQ. This was becoming a regular occurrence, some nights he would come home so late that you had already taken yourself to bed. The atmosphere in the house seemed to freeze over whenever he was around even though you were yet to come out of summer, there was something hanging over the pair of you - unspoken feelings and as of now a red hot anger that threatened to escape from your usually composed nature.

Ever since the championship had taken a turn in the favour of Redbull, Max had started to become much more distant. It started off with him not inviting you along to the races, leaving on the Wednesday before race weekend and sometimes not seeing him until the following Tuesday and that was on a stand alone race weekend. On the triple headers, it could be nearing two weeks until you two were spared 5 minutes alone and even then it was a brief conversation before he rushed back to the factory or to train.

You thought you knew what you signed up for and since yours and Max’s relationship and that was three years ago so you thought you had seen it all - been through it all with him, witnessed every high and every low. This was a new territory and you knew that if it wasn’t tackled soon -

The click of the door lock echoed in the hallway, you straightened in your seat - eyes locked ahead of you and your knee bouncing.

Max sighed loudly and wiped his hand over his face, it had been a long day - he had been at the factory up until Christian had invited him out to lunch, it was nice to catch up with his boss and Max felt like he owed the man so much; guiding him through the years that had led up to the moment they found themselves in. Max felt like over the past years he had matured as a person, sometimes still short tempered but being an F1 driver it wasn’t necessarily a bad trait. After his lunch with Christian, his dad had called him - the less said about the conversation the better. By the time you had called, the last thing he wanted to do was come home and risk upsetting you. He had taken himself on a run - to clear his head and focus on what he was going to say to you because he felt like something definitely needed to be said.

He also owed a lot to you, you had put up with so much over the years and standing by his side even when he had made a mistake - although you were very quick to tell him when he was in the wrong. You seemed to be on his level, a blunt and forward look at life - there was no time for dawdling about when you had things to be done. Life was short and there was no time to waste.

Recently however, he was putting so much pressure and stress on himself about work that the hours slipped away from him and so did the time spent with you. He felt the atmosphere change around the pair of you - as though he was always walking on thin ice, the cracks beginning to show. The guilt he felt was nothing like he had ever felt before, all he wanted to do was talk to you but he was scared of pushing you away - which is ironic because not talking and letting the pent up anger build up was having the same effect. He was never that good when it came to talking about how he felt - as much as he wanted to he felt as though he would be a burden and that he would put too much pressure on you. He could never tell you what he really felt like inside. It was embarrassing, he knew that a professional athlete should never feel what he felt. It weakened him and having weaknesses in a sport like Formula 1 was not an option.

Max shrugged his coat off and walked through to the main room of the apartment - the room where you were sat waiting to pounce as though he was your unsuspecting prey.

He offered a tired smile, in response he got a sneer. Swallowing hard, you felt the anger take over, like some monster escaping from a cage.

“I have been sitting here for an hour, Max -” You shot to your feet, pointing at the table, your voice cracked slightly. “For months, you’ve been leaving me - it’s me who’s been cooking for us both, cleaning, washing - everything, Max. By myself.” You were shouting now, your heart threatening to break free from your chest. Max just stood there, a blank expression on his face - his gaze fixed to the ground. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Max. We were happy, hell, we spoke to each other. Now, I’m alone. In fact, I may as well be alone if this doesn’t change.” The words had fallen out of your mouth before you had any time to consider them - or the consequences. Your eyes went round with shock and you fell back to your seat. A loud silence filled the room.

Max, too, had not expected the words that had initiated the silence. He opened his mouth, eyes still on the ground, then closed it again before raising his head and looking you dead in the eye.

“You don’t mean that.” He managed to mutter, barely being able to raise his voice any louder. He felt a tired emptiness, this was the last thing he had wanted to happen.

“That’s all you have to say to me.” You rounded on him again, angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“No - I -” He stuttered, then closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “I just don’t think we should talk things through whilst you’re angry -” He saw you about to interject, when he raised his hands. “You have every right to be. That’s not what I’m saying. I think we should wait to talk about it so we don’t say things we are going to regret later.” Max could feel his throat constricting, he was battling to keep his emotions at bay.

You sniffed and nodded slowly, placing your head in your hands - hot tears escaping and shoulders tensed.

Max swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with tears. He made a move and after no interruption left the room. He had only made it to the stairs before he collapsed, the fatigue getting the better of him. He was such an idiot, a fact he was certainly aware of now, how could he have let things get this bad. Did that make him a selfish person?

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, a harsh sob escaping from his mouth - fingers shaking and his head a loud mess.

As soon as Max had left the room, you had gotten up to get some water - when you paused, a sound catching your attention - a deep sounding sob. You waited, a line appeared between your brows. Slowly and carefully, you inched towards the door - waiting with baited breath for the sound again.

It was coming from the stairs and there was only one person it could be. Regret instantly pooled in the pit of your stomach, you hadn’t meant for him to cry. You were just so angry and he needed to know that.

“Max.” You called out softly, unsurprisingly there was no response. You went in the direction of the stairs and hunched over in front of you was your boyfriend - attempting to stifle his sobs. You rushed forwards, placing your arms around his shoulders and pulled his body into yours. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he continued to cry - you allowed him to empty his emotions out; some tears of your own betraying you entirely.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Came a muffled voice. Pausing, you released your hold of him and placed your hands either side of his face - offering him a watery smile. Then, using your sleeves you wiped his tears away - he watched your every move, waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he braced himself - lips trembling; he knew it was now or never. He had to tell you how he really felt.

“I’m not good enough.” He stated simply, his eyes glossy. Your forehead furrowed. “I’m never going to be good enough to take the championship, I’m going to let everyone down. Everyone that has ever believed in me - it doesn’t matter what I do, how much work I put in - I’m never good enough. And you -” He paused, meeting your gaze, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I keep letting you down, time and time again. I was the one who caused this, I’m never going to be good enough for you.”

“If you believe that -” You began, kissing the newly formed tears away, “Then I will eat your race shoe.” You moved to sit next to him on the stairs, pulling him into your side. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt.”

You felt Max shrug, the side of his head resting on yours. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of my problems, you already put up with so much.”

“I will always have time for you, Max.” Grasping his hand in yours, “You are enough, you are more than enough. You are Max Verstappen, the fastest, strongest guy I know.” You chuckled lightly, “I know it may sometimes feel like that and that’s ok. You are putting yourself through so much - maybe, it’s time to give some consideration for your personal life. It’s unhealthy to work all of the time - then we run into issues like these.” You spoke softly, almost whispering but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you spoke. “I love you, Max. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. He chewed on his bottom lip, processing your words.

“I love you too, more than anything.” He murmured, placing his forehead on yours. You lifted your head slightly to leave a soft kiss on his nose, earning the corners of his lips to quirk up.

Closing your eyes, you relished being in his arms again, to have him close to you. You had missed it. You had missed him. Both of you knew you had a lot to work through, that it wouldn’t simply disappear but both of you were going to do it together. Hand in hand. And that was more than enough.

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 13

Summary: Terrified of losing Y/N, the Darkling lets his defenses fall.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine // Part ten // Part eleven // Part twelve

=================================

“Stay with me”, the Darkling trembled as he rushed back to the camp. He held her body close to his chest, her head slumped right where his heart beats thunderstorms in her name.

She’s slipping away, he can feel it. The injuries she suffered and the power she used weakened her irreversibly.

He should be angry with her, enraged, but he had no strength to spare for violent emotions. His heart couldn’t bare much more than the pain he found himself drowning in. It wasn’t the pain of his own wounds, rather the pain of her parted lips and ragged breaths that came like final gushes of air her lungs released.

“HEALER!” He shouted, hoping, praying to the Saints he never believed in before.

“HEALER!” There was something in his screams for help, an unimaginable pain behind it.

Y/N’s fingers twitched, her chest rising in a strange manner; what should expand with an inhale suddenly draws in, a paradox he had seen in dying soldiers.

“HEALER!” It was the kind of scream that went straight for the heart.

Everyone tensed, following the Darkling – a man who never showed genuine emotion other than rage. His call for healers felt like a cry from the heart and soul that stretched across the foundations of who he is. The anguish tore through him as he saw a healer run toward him.

Letting out a shuddered breath in relief, he collapsed to his knees. “Not me!” He growled as the healer tried placing her hands on him, “Help her! Save my wife!”

Nodding, the healer looked down at Y/N with wide eyes. Another healer arrived too, then another, and another.

The Darkling refused to let her out of his embrace as two of the healers tried to take her away. “No!”

“We have to take her”, the first healer insisted. “She doesn’t have long and we have to act fast and that’s not going to happen while you’re clinging to her!” Eyes wide, she covers her mouth as it dawns on her who she’s speaking to. “Respectfully, General.”

Staring at her with raw suffering, Aleksander licked his trembling lips. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her temple instead of her forehead – forehead kisses in this moment would feel as if he’s kissing her corpse before her final rest.

He couldn’t stomach that thought.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you”, he whispers.

This isn’t how it’s meant to be, how it’s supposed to be. He could never believe anyone ever loved anyone the way he loves her.

Nothing ever made him so frightened as the thought of losing her.

“Take her”, Mal tells them. Looking down at Kirigan who seemed incapable of standing back up on his own, he realized he had to take over.. “And send someone for your General. Send everyone for the wounded in the field.”

Aleksander looked up, jaw clenched and eyes swimming in tears he has yet to shed.

“I’m not leaving”, Mal quipped. “She’s my General.”

Y/N wasn’t able to scream, despite the pain darkening her mind. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying alive. The only awareness she had was of Aleksander’s arms around her – she felt his scent. When he touched her face, when he tried to gain her attention, she couldn’t open her eyes. Her ears kept ringing, mixing with a rumbling inside his chest. She managed to blink her eyes open once, just one more time to see him, but all she managed to get was a glimpse of his chin and beard.

She wondered how he’d look without it, if it would make him seem boyish, softer. Maybe it would have erased the burden on his shoulders - they may be wide, but they shouldn’t have to carry all that weight alone.

Suddenly, his scent was gone. She tried to reach for him, but her arms could not move, hanging freely instead. Cold seeped in, clinging to her insides, wrapping itself around her heart.

Slowly, her agony had faded. The pain gradually lifted, dissipating like fog. For a moment, she wondered if this is what death feels like – no more pain? No more suffering? Being alone and cold?

Despite everything, if she had a choice, she’d embrace the pain. If pain means she would return to him, to his warm arms, she’d gladly suffer.

Dizzy, confused, she felt herself being pulled up into reality. The disjointed haze receded enough for her to make sense of the world around her. Her eyelids feel heavy as she opens her eyes, the edges of her vision flickering. Blinking fast, her eyebrows knitted as her vision blurred.

‘Aleksander’, she wanted to call, but couldn’t say a word.

How odd it is that he’s the last one she thought about when she thought she’d die and he’s still the first one to come to mind when she wakes?

She no longer felt cold. He always had the ability to keep the cold away.

Sniffling, she jerked her hands away as she became aware of another’s touch. Sitting up on a table she was laid upon, she pulled herself aside before looking to the one who touched her earlier.

“It’s just me”, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I needed to see you.” His voice is soft, sweet like honey.

Scoffing, she narrows her eyes at him and the cup of water he held out for her to take. Her mouth is dry, her throat like sandpaper. She may be angry with him, but the water he held out felt more important than their fight.

“Are you in any pain?” He asks, watching her drink all of the water in one go. “I could have them come and take it away.”

Letting out a loud sigh, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Raising an eyebrow, she licked her dry lips.

“Can they take you away?”

Snorting, he suppresses a smile. As long as she’s capable of annoying him, she’s going to be fine.

“What were you thinking?” Threading his fingers through his hair, Aleksander frowned. “You could have died.”

“Would have saved you a lot of trouble in the future”, she quips. Standing, she stumbles.

Feeling his hands on her waist, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Even now, when she’d like nothing more than to walk away, her body reacts to him. Looking up at him, she inhales sharply as she sees the tears in his eyes.

“I’m scared”, he admitted and she blinked.

“Of what?” She frowned, “Me?” Does her power frighten him? Because it frightens her.

He shook his head, “Of me”, he looked at her. His hands trembled as they touched her skin, “I’m scared of hurting you.”

“I’m scared of you hurting me, too.”

Dropping his hand, he takes a step back. “I don’t think I’m capable of ever hurting you.”

“Tell that to my neck”, she remarks. Her hand brushes over where his hand had tightened its grip just the night before, fixing his gaze on him. He seemed to regret it.

‘Good’, she thought. ‘I hope it haunts him, because it will haunt me.’

“I apologize”, Aleksander swallows thickly. He can’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. A part of him questioned if he ever apologized for anything he’s done in his unusually long life. “I had no right to act the way I did.”

“You once told me I could choose the way to punish you if you ever hurt me”, she takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.

Aleksander nods, “I’m a man of my word.”

“What’s your name”, she asks. “Real name.”

His eyes locked on hers like magnets of different polarities. Isn’t that exactly what they are? She’s his polar opposite in every way, fated to attract.

“Aleksander Morozova.” He uttered a name long forgotten; a name he wanted to forget.

Aleksander was a weak boy who failed everyone that cared for him. He was soft, young, naïve and a damned fool for ever believing Grisha would ever be free. Even now as he elevated their status, Grisha had to serve a human – the Tsar.

Her eyes held barely contained anger. As her hands clasped, a few stray flickers of light appeared on her fingertips. Unclasping her hands immediately, she raised her chin up. “I want to know everything. Tell me your story.”

“And when will I hear yours?” Darkling demanded, swiping his thumb under his lower lip.

“You seem to mistake this for negotiations”, she maintained eye contact defiantly. “Last night you told me to either go back to the Palace or to cross the fold and return to my father. It’s a choice that would easily mean I can choose to stay with you or leave and never look back.”

Placing a hand on his chest, Y/N smirked. “You can either tell me the whole truth or watch me leave.” She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t push me unless you’re willing to lose.”

Cupping his left cheek, she allowed a luminescent glow cast a light on his handsome features. She was angry, so angry and tired and her own power often terrified her. For once, she wanted to use it for her own benefit rather than hide it.

“What good will it do?” Aleksander’s bottom lip quivers as her light illuminates tears collecting in his dark eyes. “You’ll hate me as they all do. Even my mother saw me as a monster.”

“I’ve seen what you really are. And I never turned away…what makes you think I will now?”

She felt his jaw clench under the palm of her hand as he swallowed thickly, “You would if you could see my heart, all of it.”

Exhaling through her nose, she shook her head. Her eyes soften, her lips parting. How could she ever be indifferent to his suffering? She wished she could be colder, to leave him in tears and not look back. Hearing his words, his belief that he’s unlovable tugged at her heartstrings.

"Have you no faith in me?"

In a fight, they’re lethal, but around each other their armor is gone.

“I’ve waited for you for centuries. I dreamed about you for hundreds of years before I ever saw your face. I longed for you, missed you, died and lived for you.” Taking her face in his hands, Aleksander bends. His forehead meets hers as his nose brushes against the tip of hers.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you, my dreams have been clearer, focused on you. And in my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been’”, his eyes overflow with tears as he continues with a fractured smile. “I say, ‘I’ve been lost, but I’m here now’.”

Swallowing thickly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. “You’re the only person who has ever been able to find the real me. You saw me underneath all the darkness.” Reaching for her hand, his fingers tremble. “I was waiting for you without knowing it. I’ll make up for all the mistakes, for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.”

“So why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?” She whispers, her hands trembling as they hold onto his shoulders.

His frown deepens, “Why weren’t you honest with me?”

“You once joked and said I’m no Inferni”, she shrugged. “You were right about that. My mother was. Father never knew about either of us. Your turn.”

“I was honest”, he sighs. Stepping back, he frowns. “I told you my name, I answered your questions about the black heretic.”

Reaching for him, she felt her heartache intensify once his tears began to flow freely across his cheeks.

“Don’t”, he recoiled from her touch. She wrapped her arms around her own waist, hurt by the rejection.

“It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. It’s as if I’m cutting myself open, letting the ugliness spill out. It’s not painless.” Swallowing thickly, Darkling’s eyes widen as he tries to hold back more tears from escaping him. “It would have been simpler to close myself off and find an unremarkable lover who’d never dare defy me, but I keep taking the risk because I want to be with you and I hope that one day you will feel the same way about me.”

“I want”, she stopped, tucking her hair behind her ears.

His voice was quieter, “What do you want? I’ll give you everything.”

“I don’t know”, she replied honestly. “I’m hurt, Aleks. You hurt me after you promised to protect me.”

Running a hand across his face, wiping his tears away. He averts his gaze. Watching her break because of him deepens the cracks in his poorly stapled, bleeding heart.

“What do you want”, she looked to him with a weight in her chest. How can loving someone hurt so badly even when the love is reciprocated?

“Never mind what I want”, he turned away. Facing her now would have chipped away at his fragile sanity, so he did what a coward would – he hid.

“You asked what I want”, she placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know what you want.”

Shaking his head, he let out a breathless chuckle. “You”, he smiled. “I’ll always want you.”

Closing the distance between them, she closed her arms around his neck. Before she could reach for him, he gripped her by her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct, she got lost in the rush of blood to her head when he pinned her against the table behind her. He paused, searching her eyes.

Whatever he was looking for, she hoped he found it.

“I don’t own you”, his eyes flicker to her lips as she sinks her front teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “I never did. Human or Grisha, you always owned me. I was just too blind to see it.”

Brushing his lips against hers, Aleksander smiled in resignation. His eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than she ever imagined eyes could be.

“Your silver tongue won’t get you far”, she struggled to keep her eyes open with his lips a whisper away. “But you’re free to try.”

She felt his burning gaze, finding it hard to concentrate on much besides breathing. He observed her, capturing her soft, naturally charming and appealing nature. She’s genuine and sweet, the reason why everyone’s head turns when she walks into the room.

How did he not realize it before?

She’s the sun.

She always was.

He always did squint angrily at her like he does with the fireball in the sky.

Y/N’s hands ran up and down his chest as her lips claimed his - passionately, roughly, determinedly. Without a word, she started to unbutton his kefta, her cold fingertips brushing his warm skin - until she lost patience and ripped the bottom part wide open, pressing her palm against his chest as he broke the kiss.

“Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

“I’ll be mad at you tomorrow. Kiss me”, she ordered, drawing a smile on his lips as she pulled him closer, her lips reattaching to his, her teeth sinking into his lower one.

Pushing him onto the floor, she didn’t waste time. Her bottoms were down so quickly he hardly had time to take a proper breath before she unfastened his pants too.

Heaving, Aleksander could hardly get enough of the view on top of him - her beautiful mouth opening in pleasure every time she sunk down on him, her eyes rolling back into her head, her hands placed over his chest to keep herself steady. She speeds up, prompting his loud, uninhibited moans that drew an honest smile upon her lips. He trusted up and into her as his high hit fully, taking her by surprise. She gasped, his thrust giving her an unexpected release as she clenched around him.

Gasping for breath, she laid on top of him. Y/N was very aware of his arm around her as it pulled her close, his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. He leaned into her, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her temple, making her tingle with anticipation of something more - something she shouldn’t think about after their argument.

How can she trust his change of heart has nothing to do with the fact she’s the Sun Summoner? How can she ever trust him at all?

Clearing her throat, she pulled herself off Aleksander. “Put something on, someone might come in”, she told him as she secured her pants back on. She could hardly look at him, afraid he’d weaken her resolve. She couldn’t forgive him so easily, even if her heart ached for him.

“Let me in”, a voice from outside the tent made Y/N look to the entrance with a frown.

She crossed the distance swiftly, her hands ready in case she had to use her sword. She goes to place her hand on the hilt only to find her sword is not on her.

It’s a good thing that’s not her only weapon.

“Hey!” She shouts at the Grisha as they pulled someone away. “Stop!”

“General?!” Mal laughs as he manages to look back at her, fighting against the Grisha.

“Mal?” She chuckles, glad to see he’s still alive.

“Leave him alone!” She orders, feeling a presence behind her. She didn’t need to look to know it’s Aleksander. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t in the mood for anymore talking.

“You’re alive?!” Mal goes in for the hug, but his eyes catch a glimpse of Kirigan’s glare and he slowly backs away. “We need to regroup.”

“How many have we lost?” She frowns.

“You’re Grisha now”, Aleksander speaks up. “You don’t have to fight for the humans.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she scoffs at him. How could he even think she’d give up on her people now?

“That’s not something I’d like. I enjoy my humanity.”

She was the flame who lit his life on fire and while he was burning, he wanted to thank her for it and ask her to stay a while longer. Darkling nearly chuckled at the thought of calling her fire, but she is and he craves the burn.

The Darkling wanted Y/N to be the one addicted to him, in equal measure as he was addicted to her. He wanted to give her a reason to stay with him, if not for love, then for lust. He’d find a way to her heart in the meantime and knowing they’ll have a forever comforts him, but he needed to have her in every other way until then.

He knew he could make her truly happy if she’d let him and he wasn’t about to let her go.

Not without a fight.

Watching her walk away with the soldier, he clicked his tongue. Mal, whoever he is, poses a threat he needs to handle.

Swiftly.

=============================

A/N - I struggled so much writing this chapter, hope you guys like it. I’m probably gonna pass out now, I’m exhausted. xx

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl @yagorlemmalyn @gonehopelessgirl @fefethecoffeeaddict @naughtynecromancer @poison-of-the-ivie @strawb3rrydr3ss @supersouthy @theilliterateironman @evyiione @kimoranelson03 @wizardwheezes @woodsabby6 @liajiah @its-carlerrr

PART 14

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadown and bone

746 notes · View notes

ethereaiin · 3 years

Note

2B likes to carry Reader but doesn't like to admit it?

changed your rq a bit since i wanted some comfort fluff. also this reignited my motivation to write for my nier fic so thanks <3

features; you and 2B + some bonus 9S.

[au]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Being the only human left in the world meant a lot of things.

The weight of responsibility weighed heavily on your shoulders. There was never a day that went by you weren’t reminded of how precious your life was and how losing it meant the end of humanity. The androids you’ve come to know and love never let you forget that fact. You were their salvation; their hope and most of all, their most cherished person.

2B was especially fond of you. While she was reserved with her emotions, opting to use actions to display her care, you knew that she held a soft spot for you. She treated you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world; like the slightest harm against you would break you completely. Compared to an android, of course you were weaker. Yet 2B was maybe a little too cautious.

“Is this really necessary?”

You say with a slight pout as 2B lifts you from the ground and you immediately wrap your arms around her neck. At this point, she’s done it so many times that it felt more like an instinctual habit rather than something you did to ensure you wouldn’t fall. Knowing her, it was unlikely she’d ever let you slip through her grasp. Her wary nature wouldn’t allow it.

At this point, you were somewhat used to the coldness of an android’s body. They were different from humans and they didn’t possess the natural heat you exuded. When you clung to her, it felt no different from any other person, yet the lack of warmth was like a gentle reminder. Nothing here was the same as you remembered it to be and the beings that you were surrounded with on a daily basis that appeared so human were, in fact, anything but.

2B makes no verbal sound of irritation at your question and she answers you as diligently as she always does. “Of course. We can’t afford you getting sick or hurt.”

Though she rarely ever spoke with emotion, you could still hear the tinge of concern in her voice. It only made the heat in your cheeks feel especially warmer. “A-At least let me ride on your back! You can’t fight like this with me here!”

“You’re fine right where you are.”

Your lips part to protest but quickly close when you recall the promise you made to her earlier that day. It was her condition that if you were to roam about the city, you needed to listen to everything she told you to do. No matter how you felt about it. Even if it was a little embarrassing.

Yet, this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence when it came to 2B. No matter where you were, 2B wanted to be in some form of contact with you. At the camp, she’d sit so close that you could feel the brush of her sleeves against your skin, and whenever you were given the chance to roam about, you always found yourself either in her arms or on her back.

You thought it was nothing more than android curiosity. You were the first human she’s ever interacted with after all and it wasn’t as if it were any different for you. You couldn’t deny that you too were interested in androids, especially how they all came to be. For them, they’ve always known humans as their elusive creators, but for you, it felt as if the androids seemingly came from nowhere.

You couldn’t remember much of your old life before you woke up and for now, the desolate and decrepit city you wandered in was your new home. At least until you regain the lost memories 2B promised she’d help you recover.

“So, where are we going today?” You finally ask after a brief walk in silence.

2B’s stride doesn’t break and you feel almost lulled by her rhythmic steps. She didn’t even seem the least burdened with carrying you. She was stronger than an average human, it was something you came to learn after watching her mercilessly beat down a hunk of sentient metal. Just with her fists alone she was able to put a dent in steel. To her, your weight was of little consequence.

Often, you wondered what you felt like in her arms.

She glanced down at you, visage half shrouded by the blindfold around her eyes though the curve of a smile on her lips shows her excitement. “. . . You’ll see.”

She doesn’t say anymore after that and the both of you continue on in silence. Not that you minded it too much. 2B was never a conversationalist, she relied more on actions than words to convey how she felt. You liked that part of her. Her actions were always well thought out and held meaning, Whether she knew it or not, it made every little thing she did for you feel a little more sincere.

From your place in her arms, you took in the sights of the city. As dilapidated and broken as the world around you seemed, it was oddly beautiful. Never had you seen so much green in your life. Flora grew from the cracks between the roads and overtook the concrete buildings towering above you. Looking up towards the sky, you could see flocks of birds flying towards a destination you would never know, their distant calls an interruption to the silence. You don’t remember much of the old world, but you knew this city was never meant to be this quiet.

You desperately wished to regain your lost memories, yet there was a part of you who wasn’t so eager. Often the thought crossed your mind; maybe you were better off without them. Remembering would only leave you with the desire for a world long gone along with the total realization of your unfathomable luck. You, the last of your kind, were left all alone while the world died and withered without you. If there was a god, surely they wouldn’t have condemned you to such a lonely fate.

“Look,”

At the sound of her voice, you glance up at her only to direct your sight towards whatever she was referring to. While you were deep in thought you hadn’t noticed the direction she was heading in and you found yourself atop a wooden bridge placed just behind the walls of what looked to be an amusement park. From where 2B stood, you couldn’t see much, but you were given an incredible view of the distant castle.

“I-Is that an- Woah!”

The words died right on your tongue as an explosion of color suddenly took over the sky. Even from the great distance between you and the park, you were able to hear the crackling of fireworks. The sky, which you thought the sun would never set for, was darkened with the smoke from the war 2B and 9S constantly talked about. The colors were brightened against it, making their visibility clearer and their colors vivid. With your eyes locked onto the sight before you, you tapped on 2B’s shoulder as a silent request to be let down. She complied, allowing you to step near the edge of the bridge to take a closer look at the fireworks.

You thought you couldn’t remember anything from the old world, yet the moment you gazed upon the fireworks lighting up the sky; you remembered them instantaneously. You remembered their putrid smell, how loud they could be, and the fear you used to harbor for them when you were younger.

Even if you used to be scared of them, even if you thought they were too loud and hated the way they smelled; at this moment, you thought they were the prettiest things you’ve ever seen.

Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and it was only until you felt them run down your cheeks that you paid them any mind. Though before you could even attempt to wipe them, you felt the distinct sensation of leather gently running across your cheek.

2B stood at your side, looking down at you with a small smile on her face, one you gladly returned. She doesn’t ask you the reason for your tears, nor does she look hurt by their appearance. She lets you be, standing at your side for as long as you allow her whilst providing unspoken support. It warmed you to the deepest part of your heart. Her kindness, although silent and unvoiced, was always apparent to you. She cared deeply for you. You didn’t need her to say it for you to know.

Your hand slips into hers all too naturally and under the crackling fireworks above, you think of only the promising future.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extra:

“Why do you like to carry me so much?”

The question was asked more straightforward than what they were used to hearing from you. If there was anything 2B and 9S learned from their journey with you so far, it was that you never said what you felt. You looked for gentler ways to word your questions as if your care would be understood by androids who had no grasp of discretion.

2B, like always, never fails to leave your question unanswered and replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you’re warm.”

2B’s forthright reply even shocked 9S who was walking alongside her. “2B! Don’t you think that’s a little. . .”

You blushed slightly at her reply, burying your face against her shoulder as if that would take away from your embarrassment. From your place on her back, you were unable to see what kind of face she was making. As if that damned blindfold would give you the opportunity anyway. Though you doubted she would feel even a pinch of shame. 2B spoke nothing but the truth and that only made her words all the more brazen.

“What? You don’t agree?” She pauses in her steps, turning towards him which then forces you to face him as well. “Have you never touched her?”

You felt as if you would just die right then and there, yet you can’t help yourself from timidly peeking out at 9S from over 2B’s shoulder. He looks like he’s in thought for a moment, with a gloved hand on his chin and his lips twisted to the side. There’s only a moment’s delay between 2B’s question and his answer.

“Well. . . yeah, you’re not wrong. She’s even nicer to hug.”

Having enough of this conversation, you raise up your head to throw 9S a light glare. “Guys, can we please just get back to camp already?”

Throwing his hands up, 9S cheekily grins at you before continuing down the road towards the resistance camp. 2B follows shortly after him, her lips spread into an equally amused smile. While it might have been normal for 9S to show emotion resembling that of a human’s the feeling that stirred in 2B’s chest was quite foreign to her. She didn’t know what to call this feeling, but she didn’t hate it. It was a delightful buzz, one that she often felt around you and only you.

“Humans are softer than I imagined.” She added, her smile brightening at the sound of your muffled groan.

9S didn't hesitate to tag in on the teasing even from his place further ahead of you. “You know, I think we should include that in our report to the Commander. . .”

“Guys!”

#requests #finished requests #nier 2B #2B #2B x reader #x reader #reader insert fanfiction #female reader #2nd person pov #you/your #nier fanfiction #alternate universe #i havent written for my nier fic in MONTHS #also a little 9s x reader #just a tiny bit #fluff

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Distance

Characters: Childe, Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,280

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: What other explanation could there be? Surely this is the one logical answer. Even if it hurts, even if it doesn’t make sense.

In which the reader’s s/o assumes the reader is no longer interested.

Author’s Note: This prompt is really fun to write so far but I feel terrible torturing the poor characters like this. Oops.

Childe

The warm wind tickled Childe’s hair, causing the Harbinger to bat a few orange strands out of his face, eyes still pinned on the harbor that was fast approaching. The balmy breeze of Liyue was refreshing – a reminder of all the things he had been missing on his long-drawn-out trip. Now Childe leaned against the railing of the ship, eager to touch land, unable to contain the excitement he felt at the knowledge of what was awaiting him upon the dock.

Though he didn’t like to admit it this trip had been a particularly harrowing one, not just for Childe but for you as well. The post was notoriously touch-and-go across the Seven nations, especially with the deep snows whirling into Snezhnaya this time of year. The fact that he was gone almost a month certainly didn’t help. If he had to admit it Childe had found himself worrying about the time more than usual, worried how it might affect you. Now he was eager to push all those thoughts away, to once more find himself next to you, all well with the world. As the crew bustled around him to prepare the junk for docking the Harbinger took a deep breath in. There was nothing to worry about. Soon all would be well.

The empty dock was a jarring sight. Though saying it was devoid of people wouldn’t technically be accurate, business was going on as usual after all, to Childe it might as well have been a ghost town. Stumbling slightly, suddenly unsure of where to go, Childe climbed up the ramp awkwardly. Finding no one waiting for him on the stone pier as well, anxiety began to coil in Childe’s stomach. Had something happened? Ignoring the thoughts that flurried through his mind he quickly wove his way through the streets of Liyue. Though the city was bustling as always, laughter and shouting echoing through the air as people haggled and joked and went about their business, Childe found himself disconnected from his surroundings. His only thought was to find you, hopefully safe and sound and happy to see him.

There was no sign of anything wrong as Childe approached the door to your shared apartment. Sighing softly he dug around in his pack for the keys. You’d probably just fallen asleep, having recently taken up the habit of afternoon naps, according to your letters. Childe couldn’t really complain if that were the case, after all rest was important and you could hardly be blamed for not being aware of the time while conked out. Yes, surely you were asleep. Then Childe could give you the surprise of waking next to him. A smirk graced Childe’s lips at the thought of it, and as he turned the key in the lock he reassured himself. There was nothing to be worried about.

Unfortunately the Harbinger’s genius hypothesis had proven to be a false one. A quick scouring of the apartment revealed that you were not there, and no signs of any abnormal activity could be found as an explanation. Anxiety seeping into Childe’s mind he barely set down his pack before bolting out of the door, trying somewhat unconvincingly to keep his pace to a fast walk. Had something happened to you? Surely not! Childe knew you, knew that you could very well take care of yourself. He shouldn’t worry.

Still the thought passed through his head, combined with an even more unpleasant one. Had you simply forgotten about him? What if you didn’t care? Shaking his head the Harbinger took in a deep breath. He was overthinking things, still stuck in the mindset of a Harbinger. Not everything in life was a battle, hadn’t you told him that many times, teasing his constant need to see an obstacle to beat somewhere? He really should take your advice more seriously, at least in this case. Slowly down slightly Childe walked to the city center. He was sure his answer would be here; and that it would be so mundane as to not bother a second thought.

His pulse jumped in his throat as you finally entered his field of vision. You were sitting around with a few people, coworkers if the Guild crest and weaponry didn’t serve him wrong, chatting and smiling and overall having a wonderful time. Emotions stirred through Childe, the urge to run up to you, to stalk away, to find the nearest fountain and jump into it; but he stayed put, staring at your laughing face, pain flashing in his chest. He supposed he should’ve felt angry, felt like he’d been stood up. Instead all he felt was sadness, sadness and guilt.

Finally turning around Childe plodded back down the street, steps slow and sluggish. What did he expect really, for you to wait around for him forever? How was that fair? There was no reason you shouldn’t grow sick of waiting, shouldn’t want more out of your life. You were perfectly within your rights to want such a thing. Yet the pain continued, spreading throughout his chest until Childe felt like his lungs were on fire and his throat was crumpled in a fist of his own making.

Arriving back at the apartment a supernatural urge seemed to seize the Harbinger. Pack, he needed to pack. He wouldn’t burden you anymore, wouldn’t continue to strain your emotions by hanging around like a phantom. Luckily Childe wasn’t the kind of person to own a lot of things. Not that you really were either, between the both of you purchases mainly went into gifts for each other rather than personal buys. Childe now stood looking down at some of the things you’d bought or made for him. Scarves, books, a stuffed animal that had reminded you of his Delusion; all of these things lay peacefully on the shelf, giving the books behind them a slightly trapped looked. It was so homey and so comforting that Childe found tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Wiping his eyes roughly the Harbinger collapsed onto the couch. What was he doing? Part of him wondered if he shouldn’t just wait for you to come home, wait and see where you two really were. But it seemed unfair to do that. After all, what kind of sleazy person left their partner for a month then begged for their love and attention right after coming home? It was completely within your rights to want more, hadn’t Childe already made that clear to himself? And yet it hurt, it hurt so much. How had he managed to mess this all up, to let the thing most precious to him fall out of his hands? He had been so careless.

Giving himself up to his emotions Childe let the pooling tears stream down his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed so very heavy. Closing his eyes for a moment Childe sighed. Five minutes, he would give himself five minutes before returning to his packing. Yet the familiar comfort of the couch beckoned to him, and soon fatigue overwhelmed him, dragging him down into the realm of sleep. Thankfully, he dreamt of nothing.

“Childe what are you doing?!”

Lurching up Childe glanced around wildly, hands automatically moving to summon his weapon. For a few seconds he found himself utterly confused, unable to comprehend where he was or what was going on. Soon enough however, the situation came crashing back to him and the Harbinger lowered his weapon. Glancing up at you he braced himself for whatever was going to happen next.

Well you certainly seemed upset, though not exactly in the way Childe might have expected. Instead of anger there seemed something more akin to panic in your eyes, and the red patches on your face certainly pointed to distress more than anything else.

“Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong, you tell me that!” You took in a few erratic breaths, but your tone remained panicky. “Why are you packing? Do you have another trip? Why are you leaving?”

“I, I thought that it would be easier if I just left.” Childe lowered his head, unable to look you in the eyes. “I figured that I would spare you the pain of having to kick me out yourself.”

“Why in Teyvat would I kick you out?” You sat down on the couch next to Childe, and he could feel your eyes piercing through him. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t see you at the docks when I returned.” Childe paused, gathering his thoughts. “At first I thought that you’d just fallen asleep or something but you weren’t home. And when I saw you out with your friends, well it made me realize how distant I’ve really been; physically, emotionally, everything. I realized that, and I realized that you deserved better, that I hadn’t been doing enough. I realized that you deserve more, deserve a partner who will always be there for you, who you won’t always have to be waiting for.”

“Oh Ajax.” You whispered softly.

Raising his head Childe could see no relief in your expression. Instead sadness was plainly plastered upon your face. Reaching out your hands you let Childe slump against you, carding your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry my darling, I thought you were coming back tomorrow. That’s why I was out. I would never think such a thing as abandoning you,” you spoke softly, tone achingly soft, “I mean it. Our relationship isn’t conventional, that’s true; but I would never trade it for anything. I would never think that you weren’t giving enough, I know how hard you work and how much you put into everything you know. Believe me Ajax, I don’t begrudge you any distance, I’ve never lacked love from you.”

“But what if one day you want something more,” Childe couldn’t help but ask, “what if one day letters aren’t enough? What if one day, what if one day I’m not enough?”

“I promise that will never happen,” you let out a soft sigh, “really Ajax you hold yourself too cheaply. You shouldn’t underestimate yourself, or underestimate me for that matter. You will always be enough for me. There will never be a day I want anything or anyone different, and if need be I will remind you of that every. single. day.”

Punctuation the last three words with kisses to Childe’s head you smiled as he titled his face up to gaze into yours. Though the panic had evaporated from you there was still sadness, and for a moment Childe felt guilt wash over him, guilt that he had caused you so many trials and that he hadn’t even had the courage to face you about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Although I do appreciate you understanding that almost stealing out into the night nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Not my brightest moment.” Childe admitted.

“Perhaps not,” you laughed, “I mean really, you’d think that it was the second act of a tragedy or something, and not one I’d like to participate in.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! Just don’t do it again, or next time I’ll get genuinely angry, and then you won’t get off the hook so easily.”

Childe pressed his lips to yours, another unspoken apology. Though you let out a small huff of impatience you nevertheless leaned into the kiss, smiling against his lips as you let your hands drift from his hair to his shoulders.

That night Childe lay awake, listening to the soft cadence of your breath, indulging in the feeling of peace that lay over him. Though he knew that his worries and insecurities would never truly leave him, Childe nonetheless felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Maybe one days his fears would come true, maybe one day this life wouldn’t be enough. But “ifs” and “maybes” weren’t guarantees, and until that day happened Childe would cherish the time he spent with you.

Besides, Childe trusted no one as much as he trusted you. If you said that such a day would never come to pass, then surely you were right.

Kaeya

You were working late again.

Kaeya supposed that it shouldn’t have bothered him, but then again he also supposed that almost anyone would feel somewhat uneasy if their colleague and partner was suddenly avoiding them like the plague.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much in Kaeya’s mind. Of course, if this were some sort of habit then he would hardly mind; but after months of making it a tradition to always walk home together, well, safe to say the whole thing didn’t sit well. Nor was it simply a matter of you staying to work late, even the days where you finished earlier than him it seemed that you were always dashing off somewhere, leaving him painfully out of the loop.

Now Kaeya stood across the room from you, fingers drumming on his arm, face carefully hiding the irritation and concern that rose up inside him, threatening to spill over.

“I’m really sorry Kaeya!” Your tone was sincere, and the apology in your eyes seemed genuine enough. “It’s just that Jean asked me to look over the ledgers for the infantry. You know the captain is out this week, but Jean didn’t want to have to owe the City and the soldiers in terms of late funds. I promise it won’t take that long, I’ll be done as fast as I can.”

“Why don’t I help you with it?” Kaeya could feel the sarcasm sweetening his tone, attempted to rein it in he stared at you silently.

“You’ve been working so hard, I wouldn’t want to bother you with extra work.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother at all. Anything for my dear partner.”

“Really, it’s fine!” You twisted your hands, a nervous habit that Kaeya had long ago picked up on. “I’ll be done in time for dinner. And then we can the new recipe you’ve been telling me about; okay?”

“Very well.”

“Thanks for understanding!”

Though you seemed happy enough by the proposition Kaeya noticed how fast your head moved to the papers on your desk. Closing the door behind him he heard you let out a loud sigh. Clenching his hands, as if to remind himself that he was still in a semi-public setting, Kaeya stalked out of the Knight’s Headquarters. The thoughts in his head felt like static, and he worried that if he remained still for one more moment it would swallow him up.

Walking the streets of Mondstadt, Kaeya tried to reflect back upon the past few weeks. Had he done something wrong? Wracking his brain for any serious disputes Kaeya came up frustratingly emptyhanded. If you had fought over something this whole debacle would be one thing. Kaeya had a temper of his own, and petty acts of anger was something he admittedly struggled with often enough. He could hardly fault you if you acted in a similar way, or at least not without admitting to his own faults.

And yet nothing had happened, nothing that might cause such a dispute. Clenching his hands one more, aware that his knuckles must’ve been bone white, Kaeya let his thoughts drift to darker waters. What if you were just sick of him? It was certainly plausible, or at least Kaeya thought so. It would certainly explain why you now seemed to be avoiding him like the plague outside of work.

The thought hurt, as it might well do, but surprisingly most of the pain didn’t come from the idea itself, but from the idea that you wouldn’t tell him such a thing. You falling out of love with Kaeya would be been incredibly painful. You not trusting him enough to the point you were simply avoiding him, well the thought was enough to knock the wind out of him. Did you really think so ill of him? The idea filled Kaeya with smoldering rage and indignation – fueled in no little part by the fact that Kaeya ultimately might agree with you. Usually thoughts like those were the kinds you hated, the kinds you chased away with a stick, assuring Kaeya that no matter his past decisions he was still worthwhile. But you weren’t here now, and those dark thoughts were now kindling for the fire that burned in Kaeya’s mind.

By the time he’d reached the apartment Kaeya was almost sure of his hypothesis. Though a small part of his brain reminded him that he was working of a diet of sleep deprivation and anger, such logical thinking was easy enough to shrug off. After all, the signs were there. You were evidently getting quite sick of him, it was hardly Kaeya’s fault that he caught on.

Throwing his equipment on the floor, not bothering to even put his sword up on its stand, the Cavalry Captain walked towards the kitchen. What he needed was drink, maybe even two. Really if it were up to him he’d spend the next hour or so getting as drunk as possible before passing out in the tub. Thankfully though his reason hadn’t completely left him, and Kaeya managed to limit himself to two and a half glasses of cider. He needed to be at least on the side of sober for the conversation that was bound to pass once you came home after all.

The lateness of the hour in which you arrived felt like a personal insult, though really it was only 21:00 or so.

“Kaeya?” You called out, whipping the Cavalry Captain out of his thoughts.

Stepping into the kitchen the grin on your face was a stark contrast to the emotions that swirled in Kaeya’s mind. Hands clasped behind your back you stood in the doorframe as if expecting something. You’d probably be in for a nasty surprise. Kaeya smiled sweetly at you, words burning in his mouth, mixing with the alcohol. This was a bad idea.

“How was the paperwork?”

“The paperwork? Oh! It was boring enough I suppose. I kept getting distracted though, I really should’ve had you there, you could’ve kept me from nodding off.”

“I’m sure I would have. Tell me something my dear, I have a question that’s been burning in my mind.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me why it is that out lovely Acting Grandmaster asked you to go over the ledgers when I was assigned to that exact thing yesterday?”

Ignoring the blotches of red that immediately spread across your cheeks Kaeya stood up. Carefully going to clean the glass he’d been using he stared into the sink, not trusting himself to look at you. If he did all the words he wanted to say would fly out at once, and something that probably shouldn’t be said with them.

“Did she ask you that? How odd! She must’ve wanted a second pair of eyes or something, I guess.”

“Are my eyes not good enough?”

“Kaeya, you know I wasn’t insulting your work.” A sort of shocked irritation ran through your voice. “You’re the best knight in Mondstadt after all.”

“Oh really? Well if you think so highly of me then why have you been avoiding me so much?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Then let me ask a different question; when was the last time we walked home together?”

“I don’t know, a week and a half ago?”

“Try two and a half.” Kaeya finally turned around, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you!” Indignation shot through your words as you shook your head. “I’m just busy recently.”

“Busy with made up work.”

“It’s not made up!”

“Oh really, then tell me what was your work last night?”

“I had to oil the bow strings for my regiment.”

“They couldn’t do it themselves according to protocol?”

“Not the new recruits they couldn’t!”

“Then what about the day before?”

“Kaeya!” You finally burst out. “I don’t know why you’re so quick to find fault with me right now! Just tell me what you’re getting at, if you’re going to insult me you might as well do it head on.”

A part of him admired you for wanting to look at the problem right in the face, another part of him thought of how well you knew him, how attuned you were to his moods. Just as he had figured out that you were avoiding him, so could you tell that his jabs were a misdirection. It was almost funny really, seeing the things you both had picked up about one another now used at the end.

“Fine.” Kaeya crossed his arms, hoping his expression was at least somewhat neutral. “It seems obvious to me that you’ve been avoiding me, and that you no longer want my company. What I am getting at is the fact that you want to break up, and that you evidently trust me so little with that fact that the only solution you’ve come up with is to avoid me.”

Your face went slack with shock, pupils turning to pinpricks as you stumbled backwards. Finally letting your arms fall to your sides you grabbed the side of the doorframe, as if unable to process what he just come out of your partner’s mouth.

“What?”

“Do you really trust me so little?” Kaeya pressed on, feeling his emotions begin to spill over. “Am I really so untrustworthy that you can’t even tell me you want to end things? Am I, am I really that untrustworthy?”

Everything seemed to be going all wrong. Kaeya had expected you to immediately fess up, had expected guilt and relief and then the end. Instead all he got was incredulous silence, incredulous silence and a look that screamed utter and total disbelief.

“Do you really think that I would do that to you?”

The question was a simple enough one, one that anyone might ask during a conversation of this nature. Still your tone was so dispassionate that Kaeya couldn’t help but pause. Did he really think that you would do such a thing? His anger certainly thought so, helped a great deal by his current buzzed state. All that aside however, did he really think that? When he woke up tomorrow, would these thoughts still be swirling through his head, these angry thoughts that threatened to burn through his happiness.

“I don’t know.” It was the best answer he could give.

“Then why would you accuse me of something you weren’t even sure of?”

“I…”

“Kaeya have you really thought so little about what you just told me?”

He almost wanted to apologize for how stupid his words seemed in retrospect.

“Would it help you if I told you where I actually was?”

Your voice was still quiet, but not entirely closed. Nodding stiffly Kaeya felt his fingers still.

“Very well. You were right about one thing, I wasn’t actually checking the ledgers for Jean; and I wasn’t oiling bowstrings all day either, I mean our troops should know how to do that at least. But you made one mistake in your judgement Kaeya, the idea that I was avoiding you. In truth I was gathering materials, I wanted to make a new sword for you. Your current one is so brittle and since I know you don’t want to use the sword you were given as an heirloom, well I thought that I wouldn’t wait for your current one to break and that your new one would be a present.”

“…I see.”

It was all Kaeya could get out; how else could he reply? Shame and guilt mingled within his mind, quickly dousing any anger that he might’ve felt. He really fucked up this one didn’t he. He let his emotions slip once more and now he had made a fool of himself. More than that he had refused to trust you, had ended up doing the exact thing he had just accused you of. Now what was there to do? He couldn’t exactly slink away with his dignity; even if he had managed to retain that, there weren’t many places to go.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Kaeya jerked his head up from the spot he’d been examining on the floor, confused by the sudden turn of the conversation. You stared into his eyes, shrugging slightly.

“I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry Kaeya, I should’ve come up with a better method. I didn’t mean to make you worried, or to make you feel like I wanted to no longer associate with you. Believe me that’s the last thing I want to do. So I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.”

“I was the one who accused you of all those things that weren’t true.”

“You did. I’m not very happy about that to be honest; you’re going to be doing some serious penance for the next week. I just figured that before that I would apologize. Then we could be even. Okay?”

Reaching out your hand Kaeya finally noticed what you’d been hiding. The windwheel aster was slightly limp, the breeze that gave it its beauty nowhere to be found. Nevertheless it seemed at the moment the most beautiful flower in the world. Walking over to you Kaeya tentatively took the flower in his hand. Smiling softly he leaned down to kiss you.

“I’m sorry.”

Tomorrow he’d start making it up to you. Tomorrow he wouldn’t listen to his demons, wouldn’t let his own lack of self-worth hurt you. Tomorrow he would do better by you and more. Today he would say sorry.

After all, he had plenty of time.

#genshin impact fanfiction #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #childe #kaeya #genshin impact #requested #scenarios #my writing #sorry forgot to strike ningguang and zhongli from fhe character list they’re coming tomorrow(/today)

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thetargaryenbride · 3 years

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A break [Levi x Fem!Reader]

Requested by: @emmaandemmal Hi, I love your works! Can I request one where Levi and his fem s/o have been a couple since before they were captured by the scouts in the underground? After the deaths of Isabel and Farlan, the reader tries to convince Levi to leave the scouts with her to go and live together in a safer place, but he refuses saying that he believes in Erwin's vision of the scouts and the two begin to fight badly. The reader eventually stays in the scouts because she doesn't want to leave without him, but the relationship between Levi and the reader is getting colder and more detached. The reader begins to think that Levi is no longer interested in her after noticing his growing friendship with Petra and she decides to leave the scouts thinking it's the best decision for her and for Levi. When Levi finds out, he tries to find her, but without success. Only a few years later, he catches a glimpse of her in the crowd after the scouts have returned from an expedition and he follows her. Once they arrive at the reader's house, she and Levi make up and the reader claims that she has been selfish in the past and that she would like to return to the scouts to fight against the titans and to claim the deaths of Isabel and Farlan. Eventually the reader and Levi resume their relationship and Levi promises her that nothing would separate them again. I'm really sorry that it's so long, if you consider this idea feel free to modify it as you wish. Sorry for my English too... it’s not very good. Thank you so much, you're one of the best Levi writers I know! ❤️

I’m sorry for the delay, dear. I was struggling with a mini writer’s block and was focusing more on art but I’m slowly getting back on track! Thank you so much for the request and thank you for your kind words. This really means a lot to me! As far as modifying goes, the only thing I modified is the timeskip. Instead of a few years, I made it one year. I hope you don’t mind ^^

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Very Brief mention of suicide, prostitution and self-harm

Hope you like it ❤️ Feedback is deeply appreciated! ^^

Also, if Levi seems OOC, please feel free to correct me~ I accept constructive criticism ^^

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You were arguing.

You never argued.

But the situation that had befallen you made you feel all sort of ways and neither of you knew how to express those emotions, that stress, which is why it had slowly turned into a fight.

“You shouldn’t have agreed! We have no idea how the world above works! We’re going to fuck up, Levi,” you raised your voice, hands clenching into fists by your sides, levels of anger rising at Levi’s indifference at the situation. You knew that it was only a façade and that deep down Levi wasn’t indifferent. You knew he was probably worried just as much as you were. But right now you were so scared and you wanted him to just show some more emotion, fight back, shower you with words of reassurance, hug you…anything…not just stand with crossed arms, staring at you.

“So what, I should’ve let the bushy eyebrowed bastard send us in prison?” he raised an eyebrow as if challenging you to give him a good reason for your big distaste of joining the Survey Corpse. He couldn’t understand why you had exploded like that when he had agreed. It was the perfect opportunity for the fulfillment of your mission…Not that you had been very accepting of the mission either. Your paranoia and distrust always clawed at you, many a time ripping any semblance of reason and logic. But he couldn’t’ exactly blame you. He was similar in a way. He supposed that this is what living in the Underground did to you.

Living?

No. More like struggling, digging in the mud, to survive.

And the two of you had been doing this since you were kids.

“I’d rather rot in a prison cell than a titan’s stomach. And since when do you trust nobles anyways? It’s mostly because of them that we all fester here in this dump,” you spat out and he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh.

“If you are so against this mission, why are you even joining?” he shot back and you choked on whatever words you had the intention of spilling.

You took a deep breath as you slumped next to him on the couch, body completely slacking in defeat as your anger simmered down a bit.

“Do you even have to ask me that?” you muttered as you stared at the ceiling, the hands in your lap fiddling with your fingers. “It’s because I would never turn my back on my family…on you,” you murmured as you straightened up and turned to face him. “Even if it’s the stupidest decision which would probably result in something shitty, I’ll still stick with you. You are all I have…I love you,” you timidly uttered the last words, casting your eyes downwards as a slight blush spread over your cheeks. The man sighed before his hands went to grab yours, successfully stopping your fiddling and wringing, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Look at me,” he ushered you gently yet firmly and you lifted your head, locking eyes with his. “We’ll be fine.”

You let out another sigh before you leaned, letting his arms encircle your form as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I pray that you’re right,” you whispered and just when you thought you could have a moment of peace, Farlan entered the room with a constipated expression. You couldn’t blame him. You were all beaten and battered by the soldiers and your ego was bruised, even though you let them capture you. And now they were all standing in your home or surrounding it while you packed the little of your belongings, breathing down your neck.

It was suffocating.

“We’ve packed everything. It’s time to go.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You wanted to blame him.

You wanted to tell him – “I told you so.”

But that wouldn’t bring back Farlan and Isabel.

It wouldn’t stitch back their ripped bodies.

They were gone and the only thing you could blame was this world.

Because it was so cruel.

And the only beauty you found in it was your love for Levi and his love for you.

He had no fault. Nobody knew that things would turn out like this. That fate would decide to cackle in your faces.

The two of you stuck together like glue more than ever after that day. You even went as far as to disregard rules as you would sneak into the men’s barracks just to sleep with him because he was the only one who managed to chase away the nightmares and wipe your tears. And you knew, even without him saying it directly, that you were the only one who could comfort him when he was feeling the burden of the world crushing his shoulders. And Farlan and Isabel’s deaths really did feel like the whole world just crumbled on top of you two. The only difference was that you were more prone to emotions and didn’t find such a difficulty at expressing them unlike Levi who preferred to bottle everything inside, feign indifference and coldness and find toxic coping mechanisms like not sleeping which as time passed shaped into the ugly form of his insomnia, despite all the scolding you’ve done.

Time passed. The first weeks after Isabel and Farlan’s deaths, you had been inseparable. But that slowly began to change after the date of the next expedition was announced. Your paranoia spiked up one night after you had tried suppressing it for days and that resulted in a breakdown.

You wanted out.

You wanted to leave the Scouts.

You had even gone as far as to talk to Erwin and the Commander, literally begging them to help you with the citizenship matters and let you and Levi leave. But of course, they refused and Erwin even went to speak to Levi about this, not knowing that the man had no idea about your plans and wishes.

Levi was angry that you did something like that behind his back. He understood your fear. He understood very well because he was afraid too. He was afraid that he was going to lose you too – the only person he had left. But he didn’t appreciate that you hadn’t been straightforward with him regarding such a serious matter, only revealing everything you have done and felt at the heat of the moment.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl, hiding in the wardrobe, listening how man after man would use my mother every night. Dreaming about a life, safely tucked in the corner of the world, surrounded by beautiful nature, peace and quiet, alongside my beloved person... Is it so bad that I want this for us?” you had asked with trembling voice and Levi’s expression had softened, a sign that he had forgiven you for everything and that he didn’t want to argue anymore.

“As much as I want that too, we can’t have it when the titans are roaming everywhere, threatening to wipe out Humanity. If we don’t destroy them now, we are only delaying our doom,” he muttered as his hand went to softly caress your cheek, making you sigh as you leaned into his touch. “But that man, Erwin Smith, sees something that I don’t. He has a plan to save humanity and… he sees victory… That’s why I want to stay in the Survey Corps and fight,” he admitted and at that moment, you found yourself captured by that determination burning in his eyes.

His desire to fight for a better future.

Not only for the sake of you two, but for the sake of thousands of people.

And while you weren’t completely sure yet that you were ready to sacrifice your happiness and life for a bunch of people you didn’t know or care about, you knew that you were ready to sacrifice anything and everything for him.

And that’s why you stayed.

And he knew that. He knew you better than you knew yourself. But he chose not to call you out for this. Because he understood how you felt. He didn’t belittle you. He didn’t call you selfish or insensitive or a bad person just because you didn’t want to care about anyone else but him. What does selfish, insensitive or bad even mean? They are just vague concepts that are different from every person’s point of view.

And as more time passed, after every expedition, he could see why you wanted to leave. He could see why you didn’t want to fight. Every expedition, every death, left an impact on you, stealing bit by bit from your sunny personality and shaping you into a depressed, miserable person.

Even if you claimed that you didn’t care about strangers dying, deep, deep down, he knew you did. It was just the person you were, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about anyone but him in order to protect yourself. But on a deeper level you still cared and you were still affected and he knew that you hated feeling like this – it brought only chaos, confusion and misery to your mind and soul as you desperately tried to live up to your own expectations and build walls around yourself only for every brick to be broken as a comrade would send you a smile or compliment you or help you out with something. And after every expedition, he would gain a better understanding as to why you wanted to be selfish and leave. Why you wanted – why you tried forcing yourself – to stop caring about anything and everyone and run away with him – the one and only person who – you tried to convince yourself – mattered.

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t follow you. On many occasions, he felt the same. But somehow, for some reason, he would always find a way back to Erwin – back to the goal they shared for humanity. He didn’t know where that sudden loyalty for the blonde had come from – the same blonde who more or less had been the reason as to why Farlan and Isabel had died. But it was exactly this loyal bond that had formed between them that prevented Levi from following you and he hated himself for it because he could see how this life of soldiers was destroying you from the inside out and there were moments when he would lay at night and dark thoughts would cross his mind – of your body hanging from somewhere or him finding you drowned or with sliced wrists or a bullet stuck in the head.

It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to turn to self-harm as a coping mechanism and some even committed suicide.

The fight against the titans wasn’t something to be underestimated and it left an irreparable damage on everyone.

And he could see you were heading that way and he hated himself for not being able to put a stop to this and just grab your hand and run away from everything – as you wanted.

That’s why he decided to distance himself from you. He thought that maybe if he started ignoring you, if he was being cold and distant, it would put a rift in your relationship. It would make you think that he didn’t love you anymore. That you were a painful reminder of the past. And once your bond was severed, nothing would be holding you back. Nothing would stop you from leaving. Because he was the only thing, the only reason, as to why you were still sticking around. And then maybe you would finally be able to find the peace and quiet you had been seeking for ages.

His conversations with you became shorter. His answers – curt. His affection and acts of service decreased. It had brought you to tears, thinking that you had done something wrong and it tore him apart when he caught you crying one night. But it was for your own good so he had to grit his teeth and bear with it never mind how much it hurt that he was causing you this suffering.

Him being promoted to a Captain helped a lot. Now he didn’t need to find reasons or excuses to not spend time with you because he was genuinely so busy all the time. The stress was making him snappy too so he tried avoiding conversations altogether, not wanting to actually say something hurtful because then he would feel even more pain and regret and that would have his resolve crumble and he would go back to being loving and affectionate which was far, far from the goal he had.

Then Oluo and Petra had entered the picture – two members fresh into the Survey Corps, graduated from the same trainee squad with incredible talent and promising skills. He had taken them into his squad but he didn’t know that this would be the final straw to put such a rift in your relationship.

It was true that Petra was a bit clingy. Her infatuation, devotion and loyalty to him were obvious. But he thought it was a childish, fleeting crush which is why he didn’t find it necessary to confront her about it. He thought it would disappear over time, especially with how both she and Oluo seemed like an old married couple more and more with each passing day. He didn’t want to push away the members of his own squad. He wanted to embrace them. To embrace their friendship. On a subconscious level, he was trying to fill the gaps left behind from the people he lost. The gaps oozing loneliness and pain. The gaps you couldn’t fill because he wasn’t allowing you to in his haste to push you away.

And when one day he went to have lunch with Erwin, as the two needed to discuss important matters in his office, he wasn’t expecting the blonde to deliver such mortifying news to him.

“Look, Levi…I’m sorry to say this but… Y/N left the Survey Corps,” told him the Commander with a sombre tone and Levi felt his entire world shift.

Suddenly, regret flooded him, chilling him to the very last atom.

Erwin saw each and every emotion flashing in his eyes. And even if he wanted to remind his friend of the words he had told him years ago, he couldn’t.

Because there were things in this life that were impossible not to regret.

Like losing a loved one because of your or their own demons.

It was one thing to lose a loved one to death. And completely another to lose them because of your decision.

Levi didn’t utter a word, pressing his lips in a thin line as he swiftly stood up and turned on his heel, leaving the office with ebony bangs covering his eyes, shielding him from his friend’s look of pity and compassion.

He needed to think.

He needed time.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You don’t realize how much someone or something means to you until you lose them.

No, that’s not exactly it.

Levi cherished you a lot. Levi loved you a lot. You meant the world to him. That’s why he wanted you to leave. He wanted you to find peace. He wanted you to live a good life away from that misery and bloodshed.

Even if it killed him on the inside.

Because if you truly love someone, you would let them go if it was for the sake of their happiness.

But now that he’s finally gone and done it. Now that he not only pushed you away as a lover but pushed you away from his life altogether, he felt lost.

He felt lost and miserable.

As if life was drained from any sound and colour, leaving him to float in some abyss, soaking in his own negative feelings.

The sorrow, the pain, the dread, the loneliness.

If he had to list them all, he would waste all of Erwin’s expensive parchment.

And as he laid there in his bed, after thinking and reflecting on everything for hours on end, staring at the ceiling with an empty bottle of alcohol shattered into pieces against the opposite wall – alcohol that barely got him tipsy – he realized that maybe he wanted to be selfish too. That, combined with the regrets of pushing you away, burned at his soul, melting any doubts he had, like a blacksmith melting steel, and solidified his resolve to find you and bring you back, like a new sword being forged.

So next day after he had gotten all his emotions, thoughts and feelings in check and after he had taken a decision, he approached Erwin and asked for your location.

He was unpleased when his friend told him that he had no idea where you went off to. Part of Levi wanted to be angry and yell at him. Accuse him of lying. But he was so tired after the emotional and mental battle he had wielded that he just gave up on his anger and frustration and decided that instead of letting such negative emotions rule over him, he would brush them aside instead and pave way for that same scorching determination he had for the Survey Corpse’s cause, now combining it with the determination of finding you.

And he didn’t stop.

Once he started, he didn’t stop.

He would visit every town, every village, whenever he was free from his duty.

He never stopped looking for you.

It took him roughly a year to scout most of Wall Rose’s lands.

But it was during one fateful evening, after the Scouts were returning from an expedition, when he spotted you.

The sun had just set, allowing the sky to be painted in purples and blues with shimmering stars being sprinkled onto the canvas. The street lanterns shone brightly and the comforting light spewing from them had illuminated a very familiar form.

A form that Levi knew like the lines of his own palm.

He hadn’t wasted time to jump from his black mare and chase after you. He didn’t want to approach and confront you right away so he just settled for walking at a slow pace behind you, trying his best to not be noticed or come off as some creep.

He seriously couldn’t believe his luck.

Knowing your thought pattern, he believed that you had run away somewhere far. Back in the days when you lived in the Underground, whenever you had arguments – which was very rare – you would always run away from home and hide somewhere far, knowing that it would be hard for him to find you and nearly giving him heart attacks because of it. But this time you had decided to hide right under his nose – near Trost district which was not far away from the SC HQ.

He counted himself outsmarted and he didn’t know whether to be annoyed by this or proud of you.

You looked radiant even in the dusk. The cream dress you were wearing made you look like a vision, glowing in the dark. It reached a bit past your knees, revealing some of your calves while the upper part left your collarbones in the open. He longed to run his fingers over your skin. Through your hair. To touch you. To feel you. To hold you. To tell you what an idiot he was. How he wanted you back in his life because he couldn’t exist without you by his side.

To apologize.

“Are you going to keep following me or are you going to help me carry the basket?” your voice interrupted his train of thought and he cursed lightly under his breath. You chuckled and stopped in your tracks, turning around ever so slightly, eyes finally landing on the person you were so anxious to see again but didn’t have the courage to approach.

He wordlessly took the basket from your hands and began walking next to you.

All the way to your house you stayed silent.

He didn’t even comment when you exited the District and neared the woods, only lifting an eyebrow.

Your shoes and his boots clinked against the cobblestone pathway, the little door of the wooded fence creaking under your touch as you pushed it. His eyes scanned the yard, taking notice of the freely roaming chicken, a few lambs, one cow and one horse – your horse from the Survey Corps. He could vaguely make out a garden peeking from behind the house so he supposed you also had a backyard where you were growing your food. He almost flinched when a huge dog – almost as big as you and him – came running in your direction, demanding head pats which you gladly gave.

Levi was impatient. He wanted to enter the damn house already and talk. But at the same time, a part of him was happy about the delay. He almost gulped nervously at the thought of the following confrontation.

Almost.

At last, you unlocked the front door and the two took off your shoes, putting on slippers, and moved into the house. You took the basket from his hands and placed it on the kitchen counter before you grabbed a rag to wipe the table and beckoned the man to sit down. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, taking a step towards the chair before halting, looking at you rigidly, and resuming his journey until he was finally sat. You clenched and unclenched the rag before you threw it away and sat across him, fingers now playing with the soft fabric of your dress. You looked at the ground and he looked at your feet, noticing your toes curling and uncurling from nerves even through the slippers.

“I-“

“Levi-“

You both said at the same time and you chuckled lightly at the cliché situation.

“You first,” uttered the man and you gulped, sending him a wobbly smile.

“I want to apologize-“ you took a short pause and an intake of air when you saw his eyes widening as his features twisted in a dumbstruck expression as if he was unable to process why you were apologizing. “-for leaving so suddenly without uttering a word. It was…childish,” you quieted down and he closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “You were walking further and further away from me, getting extra busy with being a Captain and…and then Petra came into the picture,” you muttered but were fast to wave your hands in defence, “Not that I ever doubted your loyalty! My trust in you would never waver but…I just thought that maybe we both needed a break. We needed to breathe and clear our heads and start thinking properly. That’s why I decided to leave and give us some space. I never truly intended on leaving the Survey Corps or abandoning you…You mean so much to me…but I’m still sorry that I-“

“Stop,” he rose to his feet and you quickly followed, anticipation and fear at his next possible words, building up inside of you, making you feel like burning. “You don’t have to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

That calmed you down a bit, the fear leaving your mind, but instead, worry settled as you looked at the way he lowered his head and bit his lip.

“I acted wrongly…I was foolish by thinking that pushing you away would bring you the freedom and happiness you sought,” he muttered and your face softened. “I just,” he sighed as his trembling hand went through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. “I just saw how impacted you would get after every expedition…how you started losing that glow of yours, your bubbly and sunny persona…I saw how hard you were trying to force yourself to stop caring, to be selfish and leave, but you still couldn’t because…because you’re not like that… damnit,” he grit out as he tugged on a few strands before letting his hand fall and rest against his hip limply.

He kicked himself inwardly. He was never good at expressing himself. The moment he had seen you in the crowd, the moment he had set a goal to talk to you and sort everything out, he had been reciting in his head and thinking what exactly he was going to tell you and how he was going to explain himself and the reasoning behind his actions.

“I just-“

“-wanted me to be happy…So you thought that by being a dick and pushing me away, you would make me leave so I can find my peace and quiet somewhere far, far away,” you finished for him, deciding to help him out which caused him to halt in his speech and just stare at you, waiting for your next words, the terror of you rejecting him or telling him that you didn’t feel the same anymore felt like a nettle rope around his neck, getting tighter and tighter with each second, suffocating and scathing him. “Listen, while you might have been partially right, you were also wrong. Because even if I do find happiness away from all the bloodshed, it just wouldn’t be the same without you, silly,” you shook your head as you sent him a sad smile. “I’d rather endure all the pain and suffering in the world than be separated from you,” you finally took the courage to close the space between you as you laid your head on his chest, arms slowly sliding around his torso. He didn’t hesitate to return the hug, sharply bringing you closer, if that was possible, and squeezing you so hard you didn’t know whether to groan from pain or chuckle at seeing him express himself so openly and in such a sweet, boyish manner. It kind of brought back memories from the days you lived in the Underground and how he would hug you exactly like that when you would do something stupid that would put you at risk, albeit a bit more awkwardly since back when you were teenagers you both had no idea how to express your love for each other.

“Deep down I knew you were onto something. Because why would you start acting like that so suddenly? It just wasn’t in your style. But at the same time I felt…” he tightened his embrace even more and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and letting it comfort his tortured mind. He had missed you so unbearably much.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” he whispered and you sighed as you ran your hands over his back in a soothing manner.

“I forgive you, Levi…I understand that you did it for my own good. But believe me when I say that I can’t find true freedom or happiness without you by my side,” you placed a kiss on his shoulder before pulling away to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever try to make me leave. Let’s just stick together through thick and thin as we’ve done since we were kids, ok?” you asked and he nodded, leaning hesitantly. You met his lips halfway and you kissed gently which slowly turned into a passionate, hungry, heated and desperate make out as you tried to feel one another after a whole year of being apart. When you finally broke it off, needing air, you rested your forehead against his and let yourself soak in his presence. He did the same. You just stayed like that, foreheads touching, arms around one another as you swayed ever so slightly.

“Want to help me pack?”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #reader #reader imagine #aot x reader #snk x reader

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emmyhem · 3 years

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always (l.r.h) part two

a/n: hi everybody! here is always part two, this is actually one of my favorite writings and one that I was looking forward to writing and posting a lot. it’s another angsty piece but with a sappy happy ending :) also it’s unedited but what else is new. i’ll probably post again tomorrow either a bestfriend!calum piece or a roomate!luke piece that are titled in my masterlist. i hope everyone enjoys and is having a wonderful day. i definitely am after that livestream today. (i would say that i didn’t cry because of how good and happy they all looked but that would be a lie) anyway i hope you enjoy and as always my messages are always open to chat or whatever and feedback and comments are always appreciated. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: it’s time for you decide whether or not luke’s mistake is worth losing the love of your life.

warning(s): mentions of alcohol, cursing, angst (but with a happy ending), self doubt, insecurity, mention of throwing up

word count: 2.9k

pt. 1

The longer you watched the window the more you were convinced mother nature was taunting you. The rain droplets that cascaded down the glass mirroring the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since you left Luke speechless in the driveway. It had to be for your benefit, I mean it was Los Angeles. California was in a drought for god’s sake.

Despite the fact that nature was mocking you, you couldn’t dare pull your eyes away. The alternative was to face the endless voicemails waiting for you on your phone that glowed dimly beside you. You knew you would have to hear them eventually but right now you knew that even a breath, let alone full sentences from Luke would break you in every sense of the word. You feared the sound almost as much as the content behind it.

You weren’t ready to be okay, you needed to wallow in your pain for a bit longer. As bad as that sounds you knew it was the only way you could convince yourself to let him back in, to forgive him. It was also the only way you could forgive yourself. Your body needed to feel how tortured you were without him, how much you needed his affection, his love, and him. Not his money.

Part of you knew deep down that Luke didn’t mean what he said, the part that awakened the butterflies that had taken permanent residence in your stomach since he had entered your life. The part that caused all your senses to align when Luke kissed you the night you finally understood what it meant to love someone with everything you have. The same part that was clawing at your heart right now as your mind replayed the look of pure devastation that was painted on Luke’s pretty features as you drove away from him. That part was itching for you to run to him, to cuddle into his embrace and say “I forgive you. I’ll never leave you again. Love me?”

But, it was the other part of you that was causing the problems right now, the part that snuck up on you each time you felt secure in yourself and tore it all down in seconds. The part that told you there was no way you were good enough for your boyfriend when you stared at your reflection in the mirror for even a second too long. The part that Luke was typically the one to silence when it overwhelmed you in a crowded room, with just a tender kiss to the forehead, or squeeze of your hand. The same part that constantly craved for Luke to be proud of you the way you were of him in anything he decided to pursue. That part was completely shattered last week when, whether intentionally or not he showed you that not only was he not proud, but also felt burdened by your lack of brilliance.

“Y/n,” your friend called, breaking you from your self-loathing thoughts as she approached your brittle body, enveloped in every single fuzzy blanket you could get your hands on.

“Hi.” you croaked, pulling your stinging eyes from where they had settled on a particularly large rain droplet that had stolen your interest as you wondered how much more water it could withstand before it burst from its flawless embodiment and shattered to the sill below. You wondered the same about Luke, how much more of your insecurity and emotional baggage would it take for him to burst. How much more of your mediocrity could he compensate for before you began to strip him of his excellence?

“Have you talked to him yet?” she inquired, eyes going soft as she looked at you with sympathy.

“No.” you groaned, pulling yourself up. “Do I have to?”

She shook her head, dismissing you. “You know that you’re welcome here as long as you want, but anyone could tell that you’re completely miserable without him, even if he is being an epic prick.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around your best friend.

“Am I an idiot for wanting to forgive him?” you spoke into her hair.

She returned the embrace and settled next to you in the bed, “I think if he really is sorry then you’re incredibly strong for it. And you’re never an idiot, that would be your blonde haired beau.”

You laughed softly at her innocent dig, the giggle catching slightly in your throat as it had only been releasing pathetic pleas, and broken sobs for the past few days.

Y/f/n handed you your phone, the photo of Luke and Petunia sitting by the pool being almost completely covered by all the missed call notifications that had taken over your lock screen.

“I think you should at least hear what he has to say babe, for your sake if not for his.”

You let out a heavy sigh and accepted the phone, wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders and dragging your feet to the bathroom for some privacy.

You took a seat in the empty bathtub throwing the blanket across your body. You reasoned it was the perfect place to listen to the messages because as soon as Luke’s voice flooded the room you would be completely submerged in him and you didn’t trust your legs to hold you up.

You clicked the most recent voicemail, time stamped from 1:28 am last night. As you selected the speaker option you allowed your eyes to fall closed and without noticing or trying you held your breath.

“Y/n,”

Only one word in you could immediately tell two things without a trace of doubt. One, he’d been crying, and two he was drunk. If you had to guess you would say tequila, it had always been his favorite and he had a bad habit of nursing his wounds in the liquor cabinet. It shattered your heart to think of him broken, and vulnerable and as he continued to speak you found yourself wrapping your arms around your body for comfort.

“I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his voice cut off as a sob played through your phone. You released a matching one while squeezing your eyes tighter, a shaky hand bringing your phone closer as if it would bring him as well.

As he continued, your mind began to paint a vivid picture. You saw him sitting on the kitchen floor, an old ratty sweatshirt struggling to keep him warm, damp tear stains spoiling the sleeves. There was a half empty bottle to his side and the tip of his nose was red as it peeked out from the hood. You shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the image that felt like your personal nightmare.

“I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby.” he spoke through gasps of breath that caused worry to spread across your body.

You paused the message as a dull ache creeped up from the bottom of your stomach and to your throat which was tightening by the second. You tossed your phone onto the blanket which you had kicked off as your body heated up, and sprung out of the tub landing firmly in front of the toilet. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail in your hand you hunched over and retched into the bowl. Y/f/n burst through the door as you gagged and coughed repeatedly, she took your hair from you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you tried to focus your breathing through your nose. This wasn’t the first time you had cried yourself into throwing up during your stay so she knew what to do to calm you down and settle your stomach.

As you finished the glass of water she had poured from the sink while you brushed your teeth she held your car keys out to you.

“Please go see him. I can’t see you like this anymore.”

You nodded accepting the keys reluctantly and made your way to your car.

Once outside you noted that the rain had started coming down harder, it seemed fitting as your situation reached its climax. By the time you got into the car your hair was wet and stringy, dripping onto Luke’s shirt that you had been wearing since the night you left. You quickly tied it back and drove away, hoping the sound of the rain could calm your nerves before you got back to your house.

When you got there the sun was setting and the rain was still falling steadily, you grabbed a jacket from the back seat and held it over your head as you ran to the house. The jacket didn’t give you much protection from the water and you were soaked by the time you reached the door. Taking one big breath, in through your nose, and out from your mouth as you had been repeating the whole ride there, you raised your quivering hand and knocked three times.

Expecting it to take a few minutes for him to reach the door you were shocked when it swung open in just a few seconds. Your heart sunk as you took in Luke’s appearance, although you were sure you looked just as bad if not worse. Deep dark circles sat beneath his bloodshot eyes, his stubble had grown in a bit longer than he typically liked it and his lips were chapped and bitten down. Guilt panged in your chest, how awful of a girlfriend were you to let it get to this point? The thought made you question if he would even want you here.

Apparently the time apart had completely fucked with your ability to read Luke’s face because even frozen in shock, his eyes began to fade into that special soft color of blue they only got to around you. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest and just as it had been since the moment you left the only word running through his head was “y/n.”

He didn’t see your messy, wet hair or the ratty tshirt that swallowed your figure. He didn’t see your eyes puffy from crying or your bitten down nails that you were bringing back up to your mouth in that moment as your nerves got the best of you. All he saw was y/n. His y/n. You came home to him and as far as he was concerned you looked like an angel. Warm, sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect.

Your eyes ran over his face anxiously, waiting for him to say something, or invite you in, or even slam the door in your face. Anything. After a minute of silence you gathered up the courage to speak first.

“Sorry I never called you bac-'' your words were knocked from your mouth when Luke took a step forward and wrapped you up into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. Your limbs fit together perfectly, and the second your bodies met you felt recharged, as if everything was in place once again. And Luke felt like for the first time in a week he could breathe.

“I don’t deserve you.” he sighed as you pressed your nose into his chest deeply breathing in the smell you could only describe as home. “Thank you for coming back to me, I don’t work without you.”

From your position in his arms you could see the mess splayed on the floor behind him. It was just as you had pictured it earlier, a thin blanket and scratchy throw pillow were scattered on the floor in front of the sink, a bottle lying on it’s side just next to them. Guilt inched up your spine when your eyes made contact with a framed picture of the two of you on top of the blanket.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed into his chest, your hands clawing at the material of his sweatshirt.

He pulled back quickly, keeping his hands on either sides of your waist, “No baby, why’re you sorry. This is all my fault, I was awful. You...you’re perfect.” he pressed as you shook your head in distress, unable to stop your tears.

“N-no I stayed away for so long, even when I knew I wa-wanted to forgive you. I was embarrassed and...and selfish.” you struggled to speak over your tears while Luke looked down at you sad and confused.

“What’re you talking about, love?”

You sniffed and dropped your hands from Luke’s chest, “I j-just wanted you to be proud of me.” the end of your sentence was nearly lost in your sobs but Luke understood. And in that moment he regretted going into music instead of engineering, or science, or whatever would’ve helped him to invent a time machine so he could go back and beat the shit out of whoever or whatever had possessed him last week.

His hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip.

“I am proud of you baby.”

He leaned in slowly, and hesitantly, almost as if he was testing the waters, like this was new. As if he hadn’t kissed you thousands of times before. You looked up at him through your lashes littered with unshed tears and nodded your head slowly. He still had so much left to say, you still had so much left to say but you both had been needing this for as long as you’d lost it. He pressed his lips to yours gently, afraid that even one wrong move and you would decide that you had made the wrong choice in coming back. He wouldn’t survive that, he couldn’t lose you twice.

As he went to pull away you snaked a hand around the back of his neck pulling him back towards you. This time when your lips collided his body sagged into it, both arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up to the tips of your toes. Your eyes drifted shut and you reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against you like this. When the kiss broke you kept your faces close enough that your noses were touching, and opened your eyes to see Luke’s still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his forehead to you.

“You’re what I’m most proud of.” he exhaled, his eyelids still shut lightly. “My greatest achievement is getting you to love me and I can’t believe I almost blew it.”

You brought a hand to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, the feeling of his overgrown stubble foreign to your fingers.

“It would take a lot more to get rid of me.” you assured. “I think m’too in love with you.”

He opened his eyes, locking them with your own, and spoke firmly but with a softness that was and would always be reserved for only you.

“I want to make it clear that you do not in any way leech.” he dragged the last word out, laced in disgust as if it were hard for him to say. “I lucked out. I actually just seem to keep lucking out, my job, my life, and you.” He placed a hand across your jaw and tilted your chin up before continuing. “I completely lucked out with you. I have lots of money, more than I need actually and it makes me feel fucking incredible that I can take care of you. That’s all I wanna do for the rest of my life.”

Your mouth broke into a smile hearing him verbally commit to a lifetime with you.

“But, with that being said I know you don’t need me-”

“I do need you.” you interrupted.

Luke threw his head back at your words, a toothy grin overtaking his face before he pressed a chaste peck to your forehead.

“Y’know what? You’re too fucking cute. I meant financially baby, m’trying to apologize here.”

You nodded for him to continue, struggling to contain your own beaming smile.

“Anything you decide to do occupationally or otherwise could never, ever let me down. You’re physically incapable of it. I’d be a lucky guy if you let me stick around for it all and I promise to never forget that again. I’m sorry I did in the first place.” he took a deep breath before finishing his rant. “M’only able to give you the world if you let me. Let me?”

You answered his question by attaching your lips once again, desire and need radiating off of the place where your lips met. As your taste buds reacquainted themselves with Luke’s mouth you wondered how you had gone even a day without him.

Luke felt like he was flying and he couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone in the world could live without, seeing you, knowing you, and kissing you. He also knew that he would do anything to ensure that he never had to go a day without you for the rest of his life.

“How long does it take to get an engagement ring sized?” he wondered to himself.

If he could’ve read your mind he would’ve seen white gowns, tiered cakes, and little blue eyed, curly haired monsters running amuck.

“I want everything with you, the whole world.” you affirmed when you pulled apart for air.

“Yea?” he responded.

You hummed against his lips, “Always.”

469 notes · View notes

eliemo · 3 years

Text

Little Talks

Summary: As Logan starts spending more time with the Duke in an effort to keep him under control, Remus has to come to terms with the fact that the way he treated Logan may have caused lasting damage after all.

TWs: RSD, violent thoughts, strong language, blood mention (it's Remus, what did you expect)

Pairings: Developing friendship. Can be seen as platonic or romantic Intrulogical

Notes: Thank you to @cheshirevalentine for helping me create and edit this. They're amazing and I love them dearly. Their AO3 is here!

Having Logan in his room was… weird.

Remus had known it was going to be happening. Logan had made the offer to stop by Remus’s room and let the Duke bounce his ideas off of someone. He’d let Remus ramble, listen to the flood of intrusive thoughts and gory, outrageous ideas, all so that Thomas wouldn’t have to.

Remus had cheerfully referred to Logic as his “test subject” the first time he’d come in, laughing outright at the way Logan’s face had screwed up in indignation.

He didn’t really plan on actually doing anything to Logan, despite the incredibly dangerous position the light side had put himself into. He mostly just talked, reciting each and every thought that came to his head in detail, watching to see if he could get an entertaining reaction out of the ever-stoic Logan Sanders.

It didn’t really work. Logan was stupidly boring with his stuffy clothes and perfect schedule and condescending eyebrow raises. He didn’t say much the first few times he stopped by, their “talks” only lasting ten-to-fifteen minutes at most, but after a week he seemed to warm up to the idea of talking to Remus a little.

He’d ask questions- ask where Remus had gotten an idea, or ask him to expand on a particularly disturbing thought- and while Remus didn’t always have an answer, it was nice to not be completely shoved aside and ignored for once. Besides, Remus always thought of the best answers to those sorts of things on the spot. He liked the challenge of having to think on his feet.

It was still weird, though. But Logan kept showing up, day after day, and Remus could almost pretend he wasn’t the only one enjoying their talks.

He knew that Logan didn’t want to be here, of course. Their meetings were on his calendar, so it was obviously an obligation. He was doing it so Thomas could get some sleep, and Remus could be a little less of a burden. Of course.

Remus had only only expected it to last a few days, if he was honest. A week at most. He knew he was a lot to deal with, especially alone, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until Logan decided it was all too much and forgot all about their little “arrangement”.

But Logan came back the next week, and the week after that, and soon fifteen minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and some days he even stayed almost a whole hour.

Remus found he actually felt a little less agitated after Logan left, his head just a tiny bit more quiet. Tormenting Thomas was the closest thing he’d ever had to talking things out, and it was a little discouraging when the reactions were either horrified screams, insults, or pretending he didn’t exist.

Logan actually listened. He listened and engaged.

Remus loved Janus. And Deceit did what he could, but he didn’t have the same tolerance as Logan did for some of the gross things Remus came up with.

Maybe Logic would be open to dissecting something with him sometime…?

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Nobody stuck around Remus very long. He always did something to fuck it up.

He really should have known the way he’d treated Logan when he’d first made his appearance would be a problem. Logic separated himself from the Imagination, the side grounded deeply in reality, but a lack of lasting damage didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

Remus had still hurt Logan to prove a point. And then had promptly moved on and forgotten about it until the next time it was brought up. Sometimes object permanence- or lack thereof- was a pain in the ass.

Remus had been ranting as usual, pacing around his room while Logan watched from the chair. He honestly couldn’t even remember what he was talking about, his mouth moving without much thought as it tended to do.

Whatever it was, he’d gotten worked up and excited, pacing the room, waving and flapping his arms as he talked, smile bright and mischievous and he whirled back to face Logan and-

And Logan flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands clutched the arm of his chair, shoulders hunched protectively.

It only lasted a second, Logan quickly pulling himself together and compulsively smoothing his tie once again. He seemed to do that when he was trying to pretend he was collected, Remus had noticed. His shoulders uncurled as he leaned forward again, but he wouldn’t quite look Remus in the eyes.

“Continue,” Logan said, when he realized Remus had stopped talking. “You were rambling about...something objectively disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Remus said, crossing his arms and ignoring the stupid, pointless hurt that blossomed in his chest when Logan couldn’t even recall what Remus had been saying. “I saw that.”

Logan blinked, staring at the Duke blankly. “Saw what?”

“You flinched.”

Logan scoffed, adjusting his glasses to avoid meeting Remus’s eyes. Again. “I did no such thing.”

“No, you did. I saw it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said, jumping right back into that emotionless facade he was so obsessed with. “Are you going to continue?”

Remus couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about, his head flooded with images of Logan flinching away, eyes wide in terror, scrambling to get away.

Logan with a throwing star embedded in his forehead, with his mouth full of blood, crimson dripping down his forehead and chin, seeping into his pristine clothes and staining his tie. The thoughts seemed to dip into that spiral they always went down, swirling down the metaphorical drain pipe into his metaphorical pit-of-sewage excuse for a brain.

“No,” Remus said, shaking the thoughts away for the moment. Like stirring the cesspool a little so all the muck settled to the bottom. Metaphorically. “I’m good.”

Logan sighed, and Remus stepped away as the logical side stood up from his chair. “Then we’re done for the day.”

“Bye then.”

If there was one thing Remus was good at, it was pretending not to be bothered by the little things, by the way everyone perceived him. He was a terror and a burden, and he enjoyed it. It was funny! He didn’t care if he was liked, intrusive thoughts were never liked.

Remus flopped down on his bed, watching Logan’s back as he left. He was moving quickly, almost panicked, slipping out the door and closing it shut behind him.

Remus didn’t care if the stupid light sides liked him. He never had. But Logan… Logan was scared. Of him.

Scaring people was never the goal. Making Logan flinch like Remus was going to hurt him was never the goal.

Logan would deny it to his grave, of course. He was stupidly stubborn like that, somehow more stubborn than even Remus at times.

He’d insist that Logic had never felt a revolting feeling like fear in his life. He had no feelings on the matter, and Remus couldn’t frighten him because Logan had no feelings at all. Not enjoyment, not dislike, and not fear. Remus was another obligation on his schedule. Something to attend to. Nothing more.

And while Remus knew all of that was true… he also knew Logan was full of shit. He had feelings. His feelings might even be stronger than Patton’s or Roman’s. (Though it was doubtful. Weepy bitches they were- far too emotional for Remus’s tastes.)

And he was afraid of Remus. He’d made that perfectly clear today.

He… didn’t know how to fix that. His job wasn’t to fix problems. He made the problems. It’s better to start now than to never start at all, he supposed.

Well, obviously he had to start by finding a new coping mechanism. Logan was helpful, and possibly the healthiest outlet Remus had ever had, but he wouldn’t force someone who was terrified of him to come sit in his room and listen to him talk about guts and gore for an hour. He would have to find something to do in place of their talks.

A part of him doubted Logan would even come back again. Remus had caught him flinching, and with Remus’s reputation he wouldn’t be surprised if Logan assumed he would use the fear to his advantage.

And yeah, maybe under different circumstances he would have. Scaring people was fun but… not like this.

But that was fine, he could readjust to being alone. He’d done it before. He could lock himself in the Imagination, annoy Janus until he finally snapped and drove him away, maybe even pay Thomas another visit if he really got desperate.

He wasn’t disappointed. He’d gone his whole life without Logan’s company, he had no reason to miss it. It wasn’t fair to miss something he had barely begun to get used to. Logan was annoying and boring and stuck up, and Remus didn’t know why he enjoyed his company in the first place.

Not that he enjoyed it. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

He spent all night feeding himself those repeating lies, preparing to entertain himself all on his own tomorrow, so he was almost more annoyed than surprised when Logan walked right into his room the next day, same time as always.

Remus sat up in bed, watching in disbelief as Logan made his way to the chair and set his notebook on the table, settling in like nothing had changed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Logan looked up at him, hands folded neatly in his lap. “I said I would make an effort to see you everyday. I put it in my schedule. If I’m not going to be able to make it, I will inform you the day before.”

“Oh,” Remus said, not bothering to move from the bed. “Well, that’s boring and predictable.”

“I prefer to have a schedule rather than do things on a whim. And I’m here now.”

“Yes,” Remus said, shifting to stare blankly at the wall beside Logan’s head. He bet he could spit that far if he really tried. “You are.”

There was a beat of silence that didn’t often exist in Remus’s room. Usually he would start talking right away about whatever late night thoughts he’d been plagued with, chatting on excitedly until Logan cut in to add something dumb and nerdy.

Remus didn’t plan on breaking the silence this time, choosing to sit and quietly dwell on his thoughts on his own, smirking at the utterly baffled look on Logan’s face.

Logan cleared his throat, frowning slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Lot’s of things!”

“Are you going to talk about them?” Logan asked. “That is why I’m here.”

“Nah.” He hated this, hated the way Logan was pretending to care, like he didn’t want to get up right now and run as far away from Remus as possible. Just like everyone else. “Intrusive thoughts aren’t always words, Nerdy Wolverine.”

He saw Logan shift uncomfortably, eyes darting briefly to the door, and Remus realized that might not have been the best way to phrase things.

“Ah,” Logan said, sitting back like he wasn’t terrified. “You can always show me instead. That is what I’m here for.”

“I’m good,” Remus said, doing his best to sound uncaring. “It’s gross.”

“Yes, I’m aware it probably is.” Another beat of silence and Logan sighed, standing from his chair. “Remus. The point of me being here is to keep Thomas’s intrusive thoughts under control. We’ve discussed this.”

And Remus knew Logan didn’t actually enjoy Remus’s company, he’d known that from the beginning, but it still hurt to hear. It hurt something fierce, a deep, sharp slash in his chest that he would swear he could feel, that he was just something to “keep under control”.

He pushed the feeling down, flashing Logan a toothy grin that he knew looked ridiculously fake. “Okay.”

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Remus wondered if he could frustrate Logic into storming out. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You do,” Logan argued, like he had any idea. “Surely talking to someone is better than being alone with your thoughts,”

Remus scowled, shoving himself off the bed and stalking past Logan, moving towards one of the various piles of rubble and bones scattered around his room. He bet Logan hated how cluttered it was in here.

“At least my thoughts don’t pretend to care about me.”

Remus kicked idly at something that looked a bit like a spine, staring blankly at the floor as he let his words settle.

“What?” Logan sounded genuinely confused for the first time. “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” Remus glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “What did I say?”

Logan stepped forward, shoes clicking against the floor, echoing against the now silent room. “I do not understand why you’re suddenly being difficult.”

“Suddenly?”

“Yes, suddenly,” Logan said, and Remus turned away again with an eye roll. “We had an arrangement.”

“Did we?”

“Yes.” Logan touched his arm, and Remus yanked away so fast he thought he might have pulled something. “This is beneficial for everyone.”

“Right,” Remus scoffed. “For everyone.”

Logan actually had the audacity to look taken aback, brow drawing in further confusion. “Yes? You have an outlet, and Thomas gets a break.”

“I don’t need it. I can bash skulls in the Imagination.”

“Which is significantly more unhealthy.”

Remus shrugged, kicking another bone until it slammed into the wall. “It’s easy and fun.”

“We were doing fine,” Logan said, trying to move around him so Remus would meet his gaze. “I thought coming in to talk to you was helping.”

“You don’t care,” Remus snapped. “And you don’t want to listen.”

“I want to,” Logan said. “That is why I’m here.”

“Right.”

“I am incredibly busy, Remus,” Logan said, and Remus felt like he was being lectured. “I would not be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Then get gone!” Remus spun around gesturing to the door. “Just fucking leave already!”

“I think I’d prefer to stay.”

“You said you’re busy,” Remus snarled. “If you’re so busy you don’t need to carve out time for me.”

“I chose to.”

“Thomas can live with intrusive thoughts,” Remus said. “He’ll be fine. Patton and Virgil will ease up eventually. You should be focused on them.”

“I have been.” Logan was still staring at him, and at this point Remus was considering storming out of his own room. “I have time for you.”

“I thought you were busy,” Remus argued, back to being difficult on purpose. “Which is it? Are you busy or do you have time?”

Logan sighed, and now Remus felt like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve made time. I’m making time for you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t understand what changed,” Logan said. “I thought you were getting some enjoyment out of our talks.”

“Yeah, I was,” Remus admitted because despite everything, that was the truth. “But you aren’t.”

It took a moment for Logan to respond, no less confused than before. “I am perfectly content.”

“Yeah?” Remus finally turned around to face him, looking the logical side right in the eyes. “Then why did you flinch?”

Logan blinked, shoulders tense, a mix of panic and understanding flickering in his eyes. “I...did not flinch.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie.”

It was Logan’s turn to scoff, like Remus was being ridiculous and dramatic. And he often was, but he was serious this time. “I don’t see how one involuntary movement has become such a big deal.”

Remus didn’t look away, even as Logan’s eyes began to wander. “You’re afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. “I do not feel fear.”

“Yes you do.” Remus stepped closer, taking in the way Logan’s jaw clenched. “You have feelings.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“You’re figuratively jumping to conclusions,” Logan said, quickly changing the subject. “I am perfectly content spending time with you.”

“I’m not jumping to anything,” Remus said. “You’re scared.”

Logan rolled his eyes, hands lifting to brush over his tie before crossing his arms across his chest. Compulsory comfort action.

“You think you saw me flinch once and now you believe that I’m afraid of you, when there is no logical reason to be. You cannot cause any lasting damage to me, so I—”

Remus lifted a hand without warning, fast and sudden like he was going to strike Logan, keeping it frozen in the air as he took in the reaction before him.

Logan flinched back as soon as Remus moved, his own hands moving to protect his face, eyes glued to Remus’s raised arm, widening in genuine fear and shock.

Remus sighed, slowly lowering his hand as he watched Logan struggle to compose himself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No,” Logan still had the audacity to argue. “I am not.”

“You flinched.”

Logan fixed his tie again. Remus knew it was some kind of nervous tic. “You startled me.”

“I lifted my hand.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “Unexpectedly.”

Remus sighed and stepped back out of Logan’s space, too tired to keep arguing.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He winced at his own words, images flashing in his mind of Logan stumbling backwards with wide eyes, of Logan covered in blood, of Patton screaming. “Not again, anyway.”

“Well,” Logan said, carefully clearing his throat. “You can understand that I wasn’t exactly…sure. That does not mean I dislike you. Or that I’m frightened of you.”

Remus found himself looking at his shoes, trying and failing to get images of Logan hurt, Logan dying, out of his stupid cesspool sewage pipe head.

He wondered if this was what guilt felt like. If it was, maybe he should start being nicer to Patton. This sucked dick and balls.

“I won’t.”

“And I appreciate that,” Logan said. “But you could not cause any lasting damage to me anyway.”

“So? It still, like… hurt you. I’m not gonna do it again.”

“Well then, I have no reason to be afraid.” Logan straightened, smiling at Remus like that had just solved everything. “Which I wasn’t in the first place.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“Yes I did,” Logan admitted. “I apologize for that. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Remus didn’t move, staring at Logan in disbelief, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He hoped the exhaustion on his face resembled a glare at least a little bit.

“I don’t… understand,” Logan said, and Remus couldn't even stay mad at him. “Was an apology not what you wanted?”

“No, Logan. I don’t want anything.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brow furrowed, and Remus could practically see the gears turning as he looked Remus over. “You’re still upset.”

“Why’re you still here?” Remus finally demanded, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “If you’re afraid of me why don’t you just leave?”

Logan blinked, seemingly unfazed. “Because I enjoy talking to you.”

Logic may as well have just punched him right in the chest, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as he took a step back, choking out a shocked laugh. “That can’t be it.”

Logan frowned. “Why not?”

“Nobody enjoys talking to me.”

“Well,” Logan said slowly, and it was like Remus could see some of his walls coming down. “If it helps, no one particularly enjoys talking to me, either.”

Remus wasn’t entirely convinced that was true, but he figured he wasn’t the right one to give Logan a talk on self esteem.

“I like talking to you,” he said instead. “I just think you’re kinda stuffy.”

“I enjoy talking to you as well,” Logan said, and it really did sound like he meant it. “I would just prefer if your more violent thoughts were not physically manifested.”

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, absolutely refusing to show Logic how much this meant to him. He wasn’t going to cry. “Yeah, I can...do that. Sure.”

“Then I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Logan said, right back to the stiff, professional persona Remus was learning to see right through. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remus nodded, and realized he was actually starting to believe him this time. “Yeah. Ok. That’s good.”

Logan stepped back out of Remus’s space and Remus quickly did the same, the two of them standing on opposite sides of the Duke’s now painfully silent bedroom.

“I can leave,” Logan said after a moment. “If you’d still like me to.”

Remus hesitated, fighting to keep acting like he didn’t care. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not particularly,” Logan said, and Remus hadn’t expected to feel so relieved. “But it’s your room. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Remus moved back to his bed, dropping himself unceremoniously onto his back. “Don’t leave if you don’t want to. I don’t care.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

Logan pulled up his usual chair, leaning back comfortably as he picked his notebook back up and began flipping idly through it. He looked content and relaxed when Remus risked a glance in his direction, and he smiled to himself.

“You can talk if you like,” Logan said, glancing up from the pages. “I’m listening.”

Remus did eventually start talking, dumping his latest ideas on Logan like he usually did, diving into last night’s fantasy of setting an office building on fire in the middle of the week.

Logan had added on, and Remus had listened intently as he’d recited statistics and calculations, the likelihood of survival, and the two of them eventually decided it would be a waste of time, the fire likely to be put out before even causing any real damage to the building.

That was a talent Logan had. He could get Remus to let go of a thought that typically wouldn’t have left him alone for weeks.

It wasn’t until Logan had stood up to leave for dinner, promising he’d be back at the same time tomorrow, that Remus realized Logan had stayed twice as long as he usually did.

Huh.

Weird.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #platonic intrulogical #intrulogical #hurt/comfort #ts remus #ts logan #blood mention tw #violence mention tw #fanfiction #writing

245 notes · View notes

bored-storyteller · 3 years

Text

(Little general warning: I understand that my mind when it comes to Uta imagines the reader as human by default, so if you don't like it please specify it in the request)

Hi Anon!

I'll be honest, this time I'm not satisfied. I am not convinced that I have written anything that can really make you feel emotions. In my head, I had imagined a more bloodthirsty scenario (I like to write this kind of thing with him) and also with Uta appearing as Kakuja, but then all that violence seemed out of place if not requested so I calmed down a bit the things. Despite this, I still have the desire to write something similar. Anyway, I'm sorry, I'm willing to rewrite it if you don't like it.

64- Tokyo ghoul, Uta x human! Reader

From the prompt list

3- "What would you do if I didn't come back?"

Uta sometimes raises doubts, lately more than usual.

It's not unusual for his eyes to scan you and linger on you. He stopped listening to you for a while, while you talk to someone on the phone.

You look annoyed, you are declining an invitation, perhaps, or otherwise you are giving up on something. For him, of course.

His lids tighten slightly around your figure, while his cheek rests lazily on the back of his hand.

"You should really go with them." His quiet voice reaches you as soon as your call closes. You turn to look at him, the only other living being besides you among all those lifeless masks.

You smile at him, as you always do.

"I wouldn't go anyway." Your answer is ready and prepared. How true is it? How much of what you do and what you don't do is for your free choice, and not to protect him or yourself? He is not even convinced that he fully understands how much you have to give up on your human life.

He doesn’t doubt that maybe at the beginning it was worth it, for you. But now, how much is true affection, yours, and how much just habit? A risky, deadly habit.

Your fingers gently pick up the sketches he left on the table, you flip through them as you always do and he looks at you, from his sitting position.

He does not believe that you are forced to be with him, or that you are afraid of leaving him, but there is the doubt that your love is slowly being replaced by the everyday life of your relationship.

"What would you do if I didn't come back?"

His question was asked casually, almost as if he were pointing out to you how the rain made the afternoon air humid.

Your gaze suddenly lost and upset for a moment almost made him go back on the question. "Forget it" he was about to tell you, yet his teeth bite his tongue and that ambiguity remains suspended between you two.

"What does it mean?" You ask him, and a slight uncertain smile is painted on your fragile lips, almost asking him to joke "Why are you asking me this question now?"

Your uncertain voice always makes his heart tremble. When he feels you scared, or fearful, it's somehow as if he shares the same anxieties as you. Yet, deep inside him, the most selfish part of him is happy if you at least suffer a little for him.

"I would come to look for you ..." You murmur in response when you realize that he is still waiting. Your words are so light and fragile that he himself cannot find the courage to push them further.

It’s obvious that you answer like this, that you there in front of him have neither the desire nor the courage to really imagine yourself in a situation in which Uta will not come back into your life. That's right, he's sure you're fond of him, but do you still really love him? Do you love him as in the beginning?

The alleged absence of him scares you, but if it really happened, perhaps, in the real situation, you would notice the less weight on your shoulders, the absence of the chains that keep you tied to constant danger.

But maybe you can't see it now, not if you don't have to change your daily life.

. . .

Uta never believed that his heart could make itself so present. He feels it throbbing violently against his ribcage taking away space for his lungs to breathe, he feels it forcefully pumping the blood into his veins and wrists so much that if you focus you could see the vibrations under his skin. He never believed his body could go into such a state of agitation, even his distorted kagune wriggled inside him to be able to get out and release that tension.

The smell of your blood was enough. This was enough, and the world around Uta had darkened and there was for him that dangerous red trail that led him to you. And even if his face seems calm and focused, the terror of never seeing you again grips him.

Why are you there in the first place? You don't have to be there, he warned you. He always warns you, to keep you safe - to keep you from seeing.

It's hard for him to hold back when his mental state is in that situation. When he needs blood, fun and killing, when he needs it to stay who he is. And as much as he would like it, not even your presence can allay that need.

Indeed, you are a stimulus. Your eyes that silently scrutinize him from your hiding place are a charge for him to do better. He might say to himself that it's his revenge on whoever hurt you, but the truth is that he's now free to vent that part of him in front of you too. That part of him that he always tries to keep you safe from, that part of himself that you shouldn't be there for, not where the Clowns were operating.

That part of him that will make you go away.

It is at that thought that calm him down. Him, the world, his heart. Suddenly, when there is nothing but him and his dirty hands, your presence in that place becomes concrete, almost heavy.

His eyes seek you, hidden as you are in his half of the battlefield.

"It's me ..." the sweet note of his voice echoes in the calm after the storm "It's just me."

It's just him. No hero ready to save you, only Uta in his natural madness.

Your head pops out from behind your makeshift barrier, and he frantically approaches to check on you. Thank goodness you are fine, thank goodness the wound is not serious, thank goodness you seem not to feel too much pain, thank goodness ...

"Uta!"

His attention is on you, on your worried eyes.

Oh, you're still there. You didn't run away. You are there, kneeling in front of him, and he is leaning over you looking at your injured shoulder, but you don't seem to care.

"What are you doing here?" It wasn't actually the first question he wanted to ask. He had to ask you if you were okay, what that idiot had done to you, he had to take care of you. But all he could think was that you didn't have to see, you didn't have to imagine reality.

Because the weight on your shoulders would have been too much, and you would never come back.

"You never came back." Your voice again interrupts his thoughts as they wriggled again like agitated snakes in his head.

"You never came back, I came to look for you."

You say it with a look so clear and sincere that Uta for a moment is almost afraid to say anything. It seems that nothing is wrong with you in any of this; neither the danger you ran, nor the wound on your shoulder, nor his inhuman violence. You were looking for him. You were afraid that he would never come back to you, and you looked for him, as you said.

You did not remain silent waiting, you did not hope for a while to get rid of him, nor did you plan to remain without him. Instead, those words of him had remained inside you to the point of putting you in danger.

The truth is that Uta had thought he was not enough for you, or rather that you considered him as such by now. After all the sacrifices, after all the burdens you carried because of him, he really thought that you had stopped loving him, wanting him to be yours.

Perhaps this is because Uta has stopped loving himself for a long time.

But you got there, because you want him back, and if he hadn't arrived, whether you are aware of it or not, it would have been you who did not come back.

You wouldn't be back.

"Forgive me." His voice is little more than a whisper as his palm gently wraps your cheek "Does it hurt a lot?"

He pulls you close to him, into his arms. He needs to feel you, feel your warmth, your weight, your cold hands on his body. His face bends into the hollow of your neck, inhaling your perfume, smelling you not as a prey but as something of him, to be loved and protected.

"You won't go away, will you?"

Your question is innocent as you curl up in him, likewise seeking your presence.

His nose cuddles against your temple, continuing to perceive you with all possible senses.

If all renunciations of your human life are your choice, then he's not going to stop you from doing it.

"Not as long as you want me."

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul uta #uta tg #uta x human reader #uta x reader #uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul x reader #angst/comfort #request #writing prompt list

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vimeddiart · 3 years

Text

Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

#d&d #tuhka turunen #lazarus astrophel #ash & salt #mine #almost forgot to post this

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