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allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

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i don’t wanna do this (i don’t wanna lose this)

eighteen plus blog minors dni

summary -> it’s all fake, every piece of it scripted and perfected for the camera, even the upcoming break-up you pretend doesn’t break your heart.

words -> 2.5k

warnings -> fake relationship, use of name (bucky calls the reader by her character’s name, lucia, once) nickname uses (baby, sweetheart) co-workers/friends to lovers, no smut, not beta’d

notes -> this is for the lovely maera’s ( @ambrosiase ) hotel indigo writing challenge i absolutely love this idea mae and am so appreciative that you created this challenge, it really pushed me out of my comfort zone and i got to explore an entirely new au.

room & service -> business meets pleasure with celebrity bucky barnes -> bucky and reader are co-stars in a fake relationship in a hotel for their final comic-con together.

— ➶ —

Bucky has been doing interviews with Sam all day today.

You’ve been working together for six seasons and have both been to too many comic-cons to count. Every single one of them you and Bucky had been paired up to do interviews and photo-ops together.

A scripted piece of a scripted relationship. Agreed upon when your characters romance began to pick up popularity and designed to look perfect until the end.

Tomorrow an article with be released ‘leaking’ the details of your perfect break-up too. A source close to the both of you will comment that wrapping of the show and being forced to go long distance just wasn’t working for you two. The writer will supply photos of today, the two of you avoiding sitting near one another and not speaking. They’ll write that their source confirmed this convention is actually the first time you’ve seen each other in months.

Even more articles have already been planted periodically questioning whether the two of you were still together, generating buzz around the show and what happens between your characters. It’s a brilliant job, honestly.

Except, you and Bucky had been in a fake relationship for so long, it had begun to feel real. This distance between you two felt purposeful in a way that hurt you more than it ever should have.

Your assistant is supposed to go through your instagram soon and begin archiving posts and pieces of your fake life with Bucky. He’s been glaringly absent from your social media recently and it makes your heart ache at the idea of him being nonexistent.

Your fans have noticed too. You read comment after comment all asking the same thing; What happened to you and Bucky?

“Oh, Lucia! My dear, Lucia.” You bite down a grin at the sound of Bucky’s voice through your door. His words were filtered by the wall between you and a little slurred from the drinks he had no doubt consumed at the hotel bar. “Open the door, please.”

You lock your phone and lay it on the bed beside you. “I’m busy, Bucky! Go bother Sam.” You call back despite already walking towards the door.

“Bother Sam? On our last night together?” You can see Bucky smile teasingly though the peephole. Despite his joking tone the words hurt. “Four years together and this is how things end? Through a hotel room door?”

His fist comes up to bang against the door and a hand comes up to his heart. He’s putting on a show for you, fully away of your eye watching carefully through the peephole. “How much have you had to drink, Bucky Barnes?” You ask as the door remains closed.

Bucky holds his fingers up in a pinch too small to be true. “Not much.” When his hand falls back to his side he smiles up at the peephole. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

You melt, becoming putty in his hand as you quickly move to unlatch the door. “I’ve missed you too.” You admit to him, face to face, as you lean against the door jam.

A smirk replaces Bucky’s sweet smile as his hands reach out to grip your hips. “This break-up is tough on me, baby.” He pushes you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. “One more night. One last time. You and me.”

“Shut up!” You force his hands off of you and turn towards the mini bar in your room. “You’re such a dweeb. I’m glad we’re breaking up.” You pull out the miniature bottle of wine and twist the top off.

Bucky’s hand slams across his chest as he falls against the wall in dramatic fashion. “You’re… Glad? My frail heart can’t take it,” he falls to his knees, “Please. Tell my mother, I loved her.”

You watch, unamused, as Bucky falls to the floor in front of you. “You’re obnoxious.” A beaming smile breaks out onto Bucky’s face that makes you grin.

“I was serious, about missing you.” Bucky moves to sit up with his back against the edge of your bed. You move to sit beside him on the floor. “These junkets and photos just aren’t the same without you by my side, cracking jokes in my ear.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “Me too. I love Wanda, but it’s just not the same.” You admit quietly.

There’s so much that you want to say to him. What if this wasn’t fake? What if we didn’t go through with the break-up plan? “Did they send you our social media plan?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You swallow thickly, “I have my assistant going through my account for me soon. We’re supposed to start untagging and deleting photos of each other this week.”

Bucky snorts. “How fucking sweet. Four years together and they have us untag each other to confirm a break up.” His fingers tap against his thigh as the two of you sit on the carpeted floor together.

“Has it really been four years?” You ask quietly. It’s more of a question to yourself, but Bucky answers it with a nod anyways.

“My longest relationship ever and it was fake.” Bucky’s awkward laugh makes the air tense as he stares down at his hands. “I’ve wasted so much of my life. So many chances gone.”

You know the words aren’t said with ill intent, but that doesn’t stop the crack from forming in your heart. You can’t fathom the idea of all your time together, fake or not, being a waste.

Your eyes cut away from him in embarrassment. ��Was it really all a waste?” You ask quietly. The words are unintentional, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re out in the air.

“What?” You can feel his eyes settle on you in an attempt to read your face or body language, but a career in acting comes in handy. Your back is ramrod straight and your face turned away perfectly to hide the emotions in your eyes. “It was fake when we could have had something real with people we actually cared about.”

It’s a knife to your broken heart. “People we actually care about?”

“You know, like, other girls and guys who we wanted to pursue but couldn’t because of the contract.” Bucky reaches out to wrap a hand around yours, but you pull away. “I don’t understand what’s wrong here.”

You shake your head, the regret of your words settling over you. “Nothing. I’m just… It’s been a long day.” You use the edge of the bed to help you stand while Bucky remains on the floor, watching you in confusion. “I’m tired, you should go.”

“Woah. What’s this one-eighty?” Bucky stands too and follows you as you move around to gather your toothbrush and skincare. “Two seconds ago we were joking about a fake break-up and now you’re all quiet and weird? You expect me to just leave?”

“Please.” You plead. The last thing you want to do is dump all your feelings out to Bucky, on the last day you two were officially contracted to each other, and make him feel guilty for feeling free. “I just need to be alone, Buck.”

You move to push past him towards your bathroom, but Bucky’s hand wraps around your wrist. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t do this closing yourself off thing.”

“I’m not.” You say stubbornly. “I’m tired.” You try again to move past him, but his grip only tightens as he forces you to actually face him. “Buck-“

“You can tell me, you know?” He says quietly as his grip slackens. Your eyes meet his, pools of blue staring back at you with something akin to hurt. “You can trust me. We’re best friends, right? You’re my-“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Bucky. Pretend to care. You can go back to the bar and…” You pull your hand from him and cross your arms over your chest. “And tomorrow we can start being with people we actually care about.”

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut as his own words are repeated back and left out in the open between you two. “That’s not what I…”

“What did you mean then?” You cut him off. You want to sound angry, but your tone is sad and tired. “Enlighten me, please.”

“I just meant… I meant we could date who we wanted to date, I didn’t mean for it to sound so awful.” He answers quietly. “I care about you a lot. We’ve been friends for over half a decade, of course I care about you.”

You swallow thickly. “What if I don’t want to date anyone else?” You force yourself to ask. If not now, then when? Ten years from now at a reunion of your show? You couldn’t live with this what if.

“What?” Bucky’s hand falls from your wrist as he takes a step back like your words have burned him.

You push through the thundering of your heart and ringing in your ears to ask, “haven’t you ever thought about it? I mean, four years of just us, all those dates and premieres, was it really all just work for you?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” Bucky rubs a hand over his jaw as you stare at him expectantly. “Have you?”

“I asked the question I think that would imply…” You trail off as his answer weighs down on your mind. It feels like a no. No. No. No. It’s on repeat in your mind as you move to sit down on your bed. “After a while the dates and photos and sappy posts didn’t feel all that forced anymore.” You admit quietly.

Bucky paces silently in front of you. You’re unsure of what’s going through his mind as he does it and it’s all you can do to not tap anxiously as you watch.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finally asks when he finally pauses in front of you. You look up at him unsure of what to say. “I mean… When did you start…” He trails off like he doesn’t want the answer.

You look down at your hands in your lap. Despite your worries in telling Bucky you guess you had never truly thought of this conversation ending up this way. All these questions felt like Bucky preparing for a gentle rejection.

“I don’t know. After our second anniversary?” You keep your answer to him vague despite you being fully aware of when you started seeing Bucky differently. “That post you wrote for me that day. All the ones after. All of those words were fake?”

Your mind drifts to his words that day. The sweet and short caption had made butterflies erupt as you scrolled through the photos he had posted with it. Despite you both being required to post something, the photos he had chosen had been entirely genuine.

Pictures the two of you had taken together on set, selfies during your fake dates, and even a sweet set of photo booth pictures from your first premiere together.

You had stared at the post far too long as emotions rushed through you. Your heart raced at the idea of Bucky taking his time to pick photos that meant something to the both of you.

“I think that..” You shake your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the painful reminders. “I think you should go.” You stand up suddenly, your hands pushing gently at his chest.

Bucky’s eyes widen as his hands come up grip your arms in an attempt to stop you. “Woah. Let’s talk about this. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

“Figure it out? What is there to figure out, Bucky?” You cry out, shoving harder. “If you don’t know how you feel then you should figure it out on your own.” You move past him to open the door.

Bucky follows after you hastily. “Sweetheart, wait, please. I just need a moment.” You grip his forearms tightly using Bucky’s own momentum against him as you guide him to the hallway outside your room. “I wasn’t expecting this. We have articles and photos and interviews planned about a break-up tomorrow.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Bucky.” The two of you are back where your night began. Opposite sides of the door as you stare, unsure of what to say. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? The article will be published and we’ll confirm it and life will move on.”

The door slams shut in his face without warning, not giving him a chance to say anything else. You stare blankly at the ugly, green shade its painted in silence as you remind yourself; It was all fake. A script you had been given and followed to a tee. One you had gotten too caught up in.

You’re feelings don’t change the ending.

There’s a slow knock on your door. You suck in a breath as you move to open it an apology on the tip of your tongue.

“Bucky.” You’re cut off as his hands come up to rest on your cheeks and he pulls you towards him. Anything you had to say dissipates as his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

Your hands come up to grip his t-shirt tightly as you kiss him back your tongue slipping into his mouth while he pulls you flush against his body.

An arm wraps around your waist and Bucky pushes you back into your room, his foot kicking your door closed harshly.

The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and you finally pull away to look at Bucky, but he speaks before you can say anything.

“Of course I’ve thought about it.” He breathes out. His eyes are wide with nerves and his cheeks flushed red. The sight of it mixed with his kiss makes your heart pound. “I’ve thought about kissing you for real, not in a room filled with crew and cameras. About what it would be like to be on a date where paparazzi hasn’t been tipped off. Baby,” his hands rest on your cheeks again as he forces your eyes to meet his, “I’ve thought about it all. What it would be like to be with you, to really be with you in every way. Sometimes it’s all I think about when we’re together.”

You take pause, your eyes widening and hands freezing in place as you listen to what he’s saying. “Why didn’t you say anything then? Why’d you just pace and ask me all those questions?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He smiles brightly when you giggle. “Because I couldn’t believe you actually felt the same way. I was in shock.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You smile up at him softly. “What do we do about the article tomorrow?” You whisper your question.

You feel giddy with excitement as Bucky’s hands land on your hips to hold you in place, flush against him. “We deny it.”

“What about our managers?” Your smile doesn’t fade even as stress over the situation arises. “And…And our separate interviews tomorrow?”

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Bucky smiles. “We’ll tell them all about how in love we still are. That the source in the article was a dud and we’ve just been private recently as the show wraps.”

“We will?” You ask quietly. Your heart racing at his words. “You want to say all that?”

Bucky nods his head. “I do.”

You don’t say anything else he leans in for another kiss, you could worry tomorrow.

Bonus -> The Next Day

liked by buckybarnes, samwilson and 134,759 others

yourinstagram the final season of our show premieres this weekend and we’re so excited for you all to see how it ends. the first photo is from tonight and the second from our first season! the past six years has brought me so much joy and i’m so grateful for everything this show has given me. most importantly though, i’m thankful for you, bucky barnes. my adrian to my lucia. my best friend. my lover. thanks for making this show so fun.

View all 15,398 comments

samwilson we made a great show. love you guys.

buckyfan thought y’all were a pr stunt lmao

yourinstagram apparently you’re not supposed to really fall in love for those to work…

buckybarnes i am most grateful for you. you made work worth it every god damn day.

yourfan my favorite couple on and off the screen.

— ➶ —

notes -> this is my first ever time joining a writing challenge, it really pushed me to work through block and focus on this instead of letting is die out like i have with other projects despite liking them so much!

(hoping you guys don’t hate the extra instagram idea, i just felt it fit in!)

hopefully you enjoyed and if you did, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader

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lesbian-deadpool · 3 years

Text

Take A Slice

Part Seven: Goodbye, My Love

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,002

Warnings: Blackmail, angst, talks of drugs, talks of cheating, forced break up.

Summary: You should have known that it would never last.

A/N: Bold and italics = Text Messages.

Ko-Fi

(Not My GIF)

***

It had been three, anxiety-filled days since you had received that last text message.

Yet you could feel your time left here counting down.

"Y/N?" Where are you?"

Natasha's soft, husky voice draws you out of your mind.

"Sorry," you say, blinking back into reality. "There's just been a lot on my mind lately."

She made a pitying sound in the back of her throat. "Anything I can help with?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wade give you a pointed look. As he set up another round of the game, he and Natasha were playing, on the console, he brought over to her apartment.

"No," you shook your head, "I'll sort it out."

"Well, if you ever need me, just ask."

"I know, babe."

"You two are so sweet together. It's sickening."

Your girlfriend laughed at your best friend's dry words, happily taking the controller from him.

Natasha's attention was drawn over her shoulder, watching as you read a message you had just received. The pure look of dread, that you had attempted to hide, covered your face. Causing her eyebrows to scrunch up in curiosity. Anxiety flowing through her, at what might be happening with you.

Little did she know what the message read.

You have two days to get on a plane and never show you face here, ever again.

You didn't want to leave. That much was obvious.

But you had no other choice. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You had to leave.

For Natasha.

"Who are you texting?" Natasha asked, making you snap your attention up to see her face you already.

Wade's eye's bulging in the reflection of the TV, knowing who it probably was.

"It seems important."

"Hmm? Oh, it's just my cousin, ranting about school. He wants me to go see him soon."

Nice lying, Y/L/N.

Natasha nodded at your lie, turning back to the game at hand. Still suspicious.

"So, how was the test?"

A sense of dread washed over you at her words. You hadn't briefed Wade on the lie you had told her, before rushing from her apartment, a few days ago. And he was far too into his game, to be able to think on his feet.

"What test."

Here we go.

"The one you reminded Y/N about, a few days ago," she clarified, with a small smile.

"I never did that."

You could have stopped him.

You should have stopped him.

But you were stuck to your seat, watching it all unfold before your eyes, unable to do anything to stop it.

"What?" Natasha slowly turned on her spot, beside Wade on her coffee table, to face you. "Y/N? What's going on?"

"Natasha, you're dying-" Wade said, thumbs moving over the controller, with practised speed.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Natasha-"

"Where did you go that night?"

The dread that previously filled you grew like no other, as Natasha rose from her seat, now facing you head-on.

"Babe, it's a complicated story."

"You don't think I can handle complicated?"

"No, of course, you can-!" You rushed to say.

"You're getting annihilated, Natasha. What are you doing?" Wade save a small chuckle.

"-It's just... it really, really sucks."

"I'm an adult, Y/N," Natasha stated, folding her arms across her chest, "I can handle whatever it is."

You were just about to tell her when she cut you off before you got to say a word.

"Y'know I wouldn't have cared as much if you were fucking other women before we got together. But how dare you cheat on me?"

Of course, she went there.

Who wouldn't, really?

"Wait." You raised your hands. "What? What? You think I'm cheating on you? I wouldn't do that, Nat."

Wade cringed when he suddenly came back into the real world after the game had finished. His shoulder's tensing and eye's bulging.

"I uh..." he drawled, placing his controller down onto the coffee table below him, "I gotta go." And then he ran from the apartment, without a bat of the eye, from either of you.

"Well, what do you expect me to think?!" Natasha yelled, "You lie to me about your test just so you can leave. You've been looking at your phone like you've got some hidden secret- Were you even texting Wade, that night?"

It was time.

Time to be honest. To come clean about everything that had been going on, behind her back.

"No." You shook your head slightly.

"Then who was it?!"

"I'm being blackmailed!"

Well... maybe you could have said it better than that.

Natasha looked at you like you had grown another head, mouth bobbing as she tried to find the right words to say. That is until she just blurted, "What?!"

"I got a text a few weeks ago from someone- Rumlow! I got a text from him! And he. He somehow had a copy of the video we made together, I'm pretty sure he hacked my phone. But he's been blackmailing me."

"Y/N. Y/N. What are you talking about?" She stopped your rambling explanation. "This is crazy. If this is just a lie, so I won't think you're cheating on me-"

"It's not! You know me, I wouldn't do this shit. And even if I did, I'm fucking smart enough not to use this as an excuse."

Reaching into your pocket you griped your phone, pulling up all of the texts between you and Rumlow, starting from the beginning. "Here, see."

"You fucked his girlfriend?" Natasha asked after a few anxious minutes of her flicking through the texts.

"Yes, but that was so long ago, I totally forgot about her up until now. She told me she was single! I'm not a fucking homewrecker."

"Well, what does he want from you? Money?"

"No. At first, he made me drop off drugs for him-"

"He did what?!"

You ignored her yell, instead choosing to continue your sentence.

"But now he just wants me out of the school."

"What?" she asked, breath stolen away by the shock you statement had caused her.

"I've already put in my transfer- I know I'm an asshole! And an idiot, and I should- I should have told you all of this way before now. I should have told you the day I got the first texts! It's just..." you heaved a great sigh, "I wanted to spend as much time with you, in denial to the real world, for as long as I could. It was selfish of me, and it wasn't fair to you. And I'm sorry about that. I truly am, Nat."

Tears welled up in her eyes but never trailed down her soft, beautiful face. One of the only other trace of the salty drops, was evident in her voice, as she spoke.

"Why? Why? If you would have just told me all fo this was going on, when it first began, it could have been fixed by now. You wouldn't have to leave."

"Well, as I said before," you started, "I'm an idiot... I thought I could handle it myself. Turns out, I could only make things worse."

So much fucking worse.

Natasha chuckled wetly, "You think?"

"I'm sorry." Tears began to roll down your face. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"I know you are."

***

The last two days you had together went quickly.

Way too quickly.

And now it was time for you to say goodbye.

Natasha had offered to drive you to the airport. Which you gladly took.

You had said goodbye to Wade before you left. He almost wouldn't let go of you, as he hugged you goodbye, tightly.

Anxiety and dread filled you, causing you to fiddle with anything and everything. Eye's filtering from one thing to another, and another, and another. All the while, Natasha locked up her car. The red-head coming to stand beside you, noticing your state right away. Instinctively you pulled your cigarettes from your pocket, before realizing you were trying to quit, then pushed them back into their previous place.

"For God's sake, Y/N. Just have a smoke."

"But you don't like-"

"Just-" She pulled your packet of cigarettes out of your pants, and gently pushed one into your mouth, "You're stressed. You need to calm your nerves."

You nodded after a few moments of your eyes shifting from side to side as you thought before you gave in and lit the stick.

The walk from the car towards the airport, and then to the gate you were meant to board your plane on, was simultaneously the longest and shortest walk of your life. And before you know it. It was time for you to leave.

"If you don't let go of me now, I'm not going to be able to leave."

"Good. Don't go. Stay," Natasha was so incredibly close to begging you, holding onto the lapels of your jacket, hoping that that small action would get you to stay with her.

"I can't," you whispered hoarsely, tears burning your eyes, "You know I can't, I have to go. I can't ruin your life, Natasha."

"I don't care! I want you."

"Don't be stupid. This is what you're destined to be. You love your job, and you're a fantastic teacher. I can't take that away from you, and you know that."

"But I don't want to lose you." Tears poured from her eyes, and down her soft milky cheeks.

"And I don't want to lose you. But sometimes we have to lose what we love."

"What?" Natasha asked breathlessly.

"What?"

"You love me?"

"I... yes," you whispered, "I do. I love you."

More salty tears spilt from her eyes, but you didn't have enough time to even try to wipe them away before you were pulled into a passionate kiss.

"I love you too," was husked against your lips, "I love you, so much." Then her lips returned to yours.

Peck after peck. You both took as much as you could, until the moment you were dragged away.

The last boarding reminder rang in the air.

"I really have to go now."

"I know. I know."

But Natasha still never let go of your jacket.

Your eyes were full of sadness as you raised your hands and gently pulled hers from you.

"I love you," you said one last time. Getting the same back.

The red-headed woman never once stopped crying as she watched you board the plane, and then when the plane took off and disappeared from her view.

That's it.

It was over.

You were gone.

***

Stepping off of the plane, and into the large airport. The warm sun, flowing through the shiny floor to ceiling windows, as you walked through the crisp white building, spotting the one person who promised to meet you when you got there.

"There's the troublemaker!" Tony smiled, playfully, "It was only a matter of time."

"Do you ever know when to stop?" You asked the man who threw his arm around your shoulder's, pulling you into a side hug as you walked to grab you bags.

"Nope. You should know this by now."

You let out a humorous sound that seemed to be a mix between a scoff and a chuckle, as you shook your head.

Looking over, Tony could tell you were heartbroken. And he would be here for you.

Every step of the way.

"C'mon, there's a room all set up for you in my place. You'll have a good home there."

"Thanks, Tony," you said, staring him in the eyes, yours showing him just how grateful you were, "I like the beard you're growing in." You poinded to your own chin, in reference to the mans newly sprouted stubble.

"It's actually a goatee, thank you very much."

"Oh, my mistake."

Maybe. Just maybe, things would be so bad here in L.A..

This might just be the fresh start you were craving for.

You were kidding yourself by dating your teacher, anyway.

Things like that never worked out.***

Take A Slice Tag List:

@wannabe-fic-writer, @ohfuckno, @uglipotata72829

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000

#original work #original fanfiction #original series #take a slice series #take a slice thursday #take a slice #tas series #tas thursday #tas #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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delicatewerewolfsoul · 3 years

Text

Praise Me - Lee Felix

–pairing: lee felix x reader

–genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, school au

–word count: 2,1k

– summary: what happens when reader stumbles upon a beautiful person singing?

– @districtninewriters writer’s room, inspired by bar’s quote (@yyxgin) in her fic sweet night :

“ I wish you sang more, I like your voice”

You find yourself scrolling through the empty hall of the third store of the school for the third time this week. It was exam week and you were desperate for a quiet place to study. The halls around the actual classes and the wards outside were too chaotic and stressful for you to actually be able to relax and be able to concentrate easier, and since the third floor was actually almost always empty, since most of the classes were downstairs, it remained empty for the most part of the day so it perfect for studying. You pass all the empty classrooms and take a seat at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the rooftop. You put your open book at the stairs and open your drink to sip it as your eyes take in the material in front of you. You still had time till that test but you felt it was better to finish studying the materials quickly to have more time for more difficult subjects.

How long will this continuing routine of studying keep going? You think as you finish studying the first half of what you had to learn. It was the student's duty to learn what the teacher said like the back of their hand, but what would happen if you didn’t learn the way it is in books? What if you took a step back and actually thought before consuming everything? You sign, putting your back against the wall of the building, taking a look outside of the big windows of the halls. Too many thoughts on your head, but you decide it’s not worth putting energy in them, deciding on finishing your school life peacefully.

A faint voice, coming from across the hall, breaks you out of your thoughts. A sweet, yet deep, musculine melodic voice was coming from somewhere, pulling you in. Curious about it, you stand up to investigate. You’ve never heard that beautiful voice before in the music events the school heard before, who was that person, singing so beautifully?

You slowly approach towards the open doors of the classrooms, coming closer and closer to that sweet tune. You hear his sigh midday in his singing, he seems unconfident, and it’s making you frown. What is making him feel like that? His singing is wonderful and definitely worth praised for. You finally peek inside the room he’s into and you almost gasp.

A beautiful boy was sitting beside the window. His eyes were closed as he sang the song over and over again, obviously getting tired for the many times he practised the same thing, but still not satisfied by it. He looks too pretty for this world, sun falling nicely on his freckled skin, the slight wind browning his hair back slightly. You swore to yourself that there wasn’t a more beautiful sight as the one you had in front of your eyes. In your daze, you move your feet slightly and it accidentally hits the door, startling both you and the poor kid. You take a few steps back in panic at the fear of him catching you looking at him singing and you run, you run to hide back at the same stairs you were hiding before. You put your back against the wall again letting out a breath as you put your hand on your fast beating heart. What did just happen?

“ Do you mayhaps know who he is?” you say pointing to the boy that was currently leaning on his friend's shoulder, covering his mouth as he was laughing hard at something someone told him. Hyunjin turns around and smiles as he spots him. “That is Felix actually, one of the popular kids, why?” he says putting their head on his hands, very interested in your very sudden interest towards the well known sunny boy.

“Do you know what club he’s in?” you say, your attention still on Felix, as he is now asking something, his friend and you smile slightly, as you swear you notice stars in his eyes. “Volleyball” he says and they raise his one eyebrow in question. “What’s with all these questions y/n, please tell me” he says and you sigh and you put your chin on the table in front of you. “You know… I caught him singing yesterday” you say and he gasps. “you caught Lee Felix singing? When?”

Startled by the volume of his voice, you put your hand on his mouth to sush him panicked. “Not that loud! From your reaction, I’m guessing people don’t know about this” you sigh as you lean back, “anyways, it was yesterday, while I was studying in the third store”. “His voice was truly amazing but I think he wasn’t really confident about it” you sigh thinking about all the times he gasped in between his singing, frowning.

“The real question is… Does he know you heard him?” Hyunjin wonders and you flinch at the memory of almost getting caught. “No he doesn’t… He almost caught me listening but I got away fast” you say and Hyunjin laughs at his awkward friend in front of him and it’s sudden interest in another human being.

“But I think I’ll reveal myself today… I want to actually compliment him, if i get to hear him again” you say and he nods his head smiling, happy with how everything is going. It felt like it was the best way to do this. No one knew what would come out of this new interaction, new friends or a love interest? Regardless of the outcome, a little compliment never killed anybody, maybe you’d be able to boost his confidence and then he’ll be able to bless everyone with his miraculous voice. All you had to do was take the first step and approach him.

Free period comes again and you can’t help how excited you were. You go up the stairs quickly with your books clutched to your chest, quickly plopping on your usual spot, with a big smile on your face. Was he going to sing today? What was the right thing to say to him without sounding weird? Deep on your thoughts again, you almost miss the soft singing, softer than last time and definitely more hesitant than yesterday. “He must be hesitant since what happened yesterday” you pout and you stand up, not missing any more minutes.

You approach him slowly and you spot him again in the same chair as yesterday, his back turned to you, as he sang the same song from yesterday.

“I wish you sang more, I like your voice” you say softly, without even thinking, the words are already out of your mouth. You gasp when you realise what you did putting your hand on your mouth and he turns around shocked, a light blush decorating his face. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you” you say putting your hands up, and your palms forward, clearly showing how flustered you are. You wait for a response, anything, that would show that you didn’t actually destroy the very important first meeting by speaking your mind without any filter beforehand.

What you don’t expect him to do is to shyly smile at you, and rub the back of his neck “Really?” he says kinda high pitched, clearly not believing what you said. “Definitely, I was mesmerised yesterday… I would love to hear you sing again” you say smiling back at him, relieved that he didn’t actually think you were a weirdo.

“I swear, I won’t bother you, I’ll just sit here silently and read” you say taking a seat close to him and he laughs finding your attinks cute.“I would really enjoy it if you joined my singing sessions, really, I would love to have someone here with me… Maybe then I’ll be able to sing live”. You didn’t talk more that day, you just simply stayed by his side, as he practiced his song over and over again, with a smile on your face because of how the vents turned out.

From that day on, you kept getting closer and closer to Felix. It became a routine to spend the free period in that empty classroom, next to him. Felix started becoming more confident with his singing, day by day, his voice getting more clear and strong around you and you couldn’t be happier. But with all of what’s happening, you notice some changes in the way he treats you as well. He became more sweet around you, he treated you more gently than his other friends, greeting you with a big smile in the busy halls between all these loud students. He brought drinks for you and even gave baked goods, and that made everyone confused, as to why he was taking so good care of you.

“y/n, what is this container?” Hyunjin laughs as you get into class struggling with holding your books and the big container Felix gave you. “These are brownies, Felix gave them to me” you say as you put the container on your desk, and your books in your bag. “This is weird, this is the third time this week that you have a container this big in your hands. First cookies, then cupcakes, now this, there’s no way this has no meaning behind it, he wants to tell you something” he says and his eyes land at the orange note stuck at the back of the container. “AH” he gasps “What is this?” he says as he takes the note as his hands and opens it:

“Dear y/n,

Inside this envelope is a ticket for the little concert the music club does at the end of the next week, I would be incredibly happy if you’ll be able to come

yours, Felix”

“This is it y/n, he’s going to confess!” says Hyunjin, waving the note above his hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no way” you say, feeling your heart starting to beat faster “he just wants me to be with him during an activity that he loves, that’s all” you say excited for the event.

You arrive at the event that Friday and you can’t wait for what’s about to happen. Since you never hang out with Felix outside of school, you don’t really know what to expect. You enter the room and Hyunjin waves at you, so you can come closer to him.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper yell at him as you take a seat beside him. “I’m here to watch the show!” he said and you roll your eyes since you know he means you. “Anyways, your seat in the front, Felix told me, go sit there” he says and you obediently go and sit on the front, waiting for Felix to appear.

The show starts with no sign of Felix. You start feeling antsy, did he stand you up? You look at Hyunjin and he smiles at you, murmuring to you to be patient. A text for Felix appears, saying that he won’t be late and you sigh in relief, sinking back in your seat.

What you don’t expect is Felix to appear on the stage in front of you, dressed so elegantly, and beautiful you can’t help but gasp. “Hello, this is Lee Felix and I’ll sing a song about a very special person that helped me be more confident in myself and praised me whenever they could” he says, locking eye contact with you, giving you a sweet smile and you really can’t believe your eyes. Lee Felix, about to sing in front of a crowd. The boy that couldn’t even sign without his voice shaking of fear, being confident enough to do it.

And he starts singing, and you feel your eyes watering, too many emotions from the beautiful voice that made you fall in love, for that boy that with a single glance, stole your heart. You feel yourself lost in the moment his voice taking you in, a single tear dropping from your eyes. As the song ends, he bows at the crowd and you stand up to clap at him, and the whole does as well.

“This song was actually made for y/n. I wanted to thank them for helping be more me and taking care of me” he says into the mic and gasp, not expecting to actually mention your name. He steps down from the stage and takes delicately both of your hands in his and says “I don’t really know if this is okay, but will you date me?” he says looking hopeful in your eyes. In the back, you hear someone cheering, and you’re sure it’s Hyunjin.“Absolutely” you say and kiss his cheek, making him burst into giggles.

tagging: @fluffyskzclub

#districtninewriters #fluffyskzclub #stray kids #felix #lee felix #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #stray kids fluff #stray kids oneshot #felix scenarios #felix imagines #felix fluff #lee felix scenarios #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff

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hintofcolor · 3 years

Text

The Fabric of the Human Psyche

1/17/21

It’s amazing the amount of ourselves we put out there for people to see without even realizing it. It still hurts when it gets stripped away.

——————————————————————————

This is stupid Kon thinks, staring into the mirror. He’s thankful that the tears are clouding his vision because he really doesn’t want to see what he looks like right now. This is so so stupid.

Berating thoughts dance around his head like they belong there. Naturally flowing around, blending into the trauma that has made itself at home. He keeps staring, non moving, like if he moves it will be real. So, tears flow freely down his cheeks as looks into a reflection that isn’t him.

His hair has been cut, his curls gone and now instead of a fade it’s a buzz cut, all his piercing have been taken and glasses sit filtering his green eyes. It’s ridiculous, he knows that, to think that glasses can change the color of your eyes, it’s just glass, clear glass, but they look different to him, duller. He’s wearing a flannel, buttoned all the way up to the top button. It’s long enough to cover his bulky belt, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. His jeans are a worn blue and they’re straight cut. They would hit the ground too, if it wasn’t for his brown work boots. The primary color of his shirt seems blinding, his boots feel too heavy, like if he tried to fly they would keep him on the ground.

He gained the courage to move, lifting his arm to run a hand through his hair. The moment he made contact he flinched. He stumbled back sitting on the corner of his bed. He knew why he had to dress like this, he did, truly, But he looked different, ugly, boring, not himself, like Clark. Everything that made him, him, was gone, replaced by the past of someone who doesn’t want anything to do with who he is. He took off the glasses and sat them on the bed next to him. Finally rubbing his eyes and blinking away the tears. Here he was. Kon-el, Conner Kent, Superboy, crying on his bed in the middle of the day because of clothes. After everything he’s been through, the mind control, the memories of torture from Cadmus bleeding back in, Lex, enough said about that one, why was this getting to him so much. They’re just pieces of fabric. Because his style is his own. Because its not something he inherited. Because he genuinely likes the way he looks, and the way he dresses, and they make him feel like his own person. Now he’s being shoved to the back to make way for the new Conner. The improved Conner. The Conner that doesn’t stick out, the Conner that says yes ma’am and no sir, that doesn’t pick fights, that stays quiet and small and out of everyone’s way.

He looked over to his closet. The leather jackets, and cropped or distressed shirts are pushed to the side out of the way. The band logos and old hoodies barely seen. His jeans, all ripped or painted on, are in a box in the top of it, next to his shoes. He glances in the mirror one more time before deciding to get rid of it when he gains the strength to move.

The reasoning is simple enough. He looked too much like Superboy. The piercings, the leather, the hair, the attitude, was all a direct link to Superboy. He probably could have gotten away with it if he lived in Metropolis. Nobody there would bat an eye at him, but in tiny town Kansas, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone stared when he walked down the street, he was the talk of the town. The weird kid who had no business being a Kent. So he had to blend. It made sense. Not to mention, the moment Superboy is found out, it’s not that hard to make the connection to Clark. This means Superboy is allowed to stay the same the piercings, the leather, the attitude. He even still has clothes that look like him at the tower, for whenever they go out in San Francisco. People there have probably put two and two together about all of them, but that’s what Kon likes about that place, people know how to mind their business.

That should help, he knows that should help, but still, Kon wishes he was allowed to more than just Superboy. He wishes he was allowed to be Conner Kent without compromise. Without feeling like he’s letting down Clark. That hurts too, caring so much about what Clark thinks, especially considering he knows Clark doesn’t think twice about him. So he’s stuck alternating between these three different people and it’s exhausting. Why can’t Kon-el and Conner Kent be the same person.

He was laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The tears gone, now he was just numb. That’s when his pity party got crashed.

A knock came from his door, while the door was opening, the person on the other side not waiting for a response. That’s how he knew it wasn’t Ma or Pa. They knew what privacy meant and always waited for a response. Out of curiosity he lifted his head to see who just burst in. And to no surprise the person who doesn’t know how knocking works, was his personal bat he got prescribed when he started wearing the shield.

Nononononono

When nothing was said Kon sat up. Tim was just standing there, staring. He looked confused. Kon shifted uncomfortable under the stare.

“Can I help you with something?” Kon asked, growing tired of the silence.

“I had a meeting in Metropolis, and last time I went to Metropolis and didn’t stop by to visit, you yelled at me.” he rushed through his explanation. “What are you wearing?”

Kon groaned at the question laying back down. He threw his hands over his eyes. If he couldn’t see Tim, Tim couldn’t see him, right? “That bad, huh?” he asked instead of responding. He’s still not mentally ready to talk about it, yet.

“That’s not what I meant.” Tim responded sitting next to him on the bed. “It’s just...” He hesitated, briefly, but long enough for Kon to play ‘fill in the blank’

“Terrible, ugly, like I sleep in barn, like I’, wearing an elderly man’s ‘good’ outfit.”

“...not you.” Tim finished with an eye roll.

That was it, Kon felt the tears start to come back and he mentally cursed himself. This is so stupid. He pressed the heel of his hands deeper into his eyes. A tear slipped out and he prayed that Tim didn’t notice.

“Hey, Kon what happened.” Tim asked worried, a hand moving to his to peel away the hands that were pushing his eyes deeper into his head. After he gently got the hands away from his face he held them there. Kon had a habit of hiding behind his hands when he wants to avoid things. Typically he would brush it off, but Tim sounds concerned and he doesn’t want him to worry.

“It’s stupid.” Was his simple response. He could see Tim’s eyeroll even through his eyes were still closed. He could sense it at this point.

“If it’s upsetting you, then it’s not stupid. Now spill.” Tim’s response was soft. It was slightly uncharacteristic. Tim was always gentle, kind, when Kon was upset, but this was different.

“I just hate what I’m wearing. It feels...off. See stupid, can we drop it.”

“Why are you wearing it if you hate it?” And Kon should have known Tim wouldn’t let it go. Not with Kon still visibly upset.

“Clark thought it would be a good idea if I tried to blend in more. Y’know because of the whole secret I.D thing, so...” Kon gestured down to his clothes to make a point.

Tim sat quiet so Kon finally opened his eyes and when he did, Tim was staring, again. This time his look was soft, so soft.

“It’s not stupid, Kon” Tim spoke barely above a whisper. “You spent your entire life being compared to Clark. Being ‘the clone’. The world seeing you as just another superman. You found something that was yours, that proved you are so much more than just Superman’s clone. You’re your own person, with their own thoughts, their own soul, their own personality. You had something that was uniquely yours, and it was taken from you. Not only was it taken, but it was replaced with something so blatantly Clark. It makes sense that it hurts. And it makes sense to cry when things hurt. It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid to be upset, no matter how small it might seem. You are allowed to feel things, Kon.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Tim laughed.

Oh no.

“I think I want food.” Yes, change the subject, avoid everything. That’s healthy, Conner.

“Get changed we’ll go to Metropolis, my treat.”

Stop that.

“I figured that went without saying.” There’s that sixth sense again. “Hey wonder boy.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“You should be allowed to be your own person, I for one like that person. It seems wrong to hide him.”

Yup this isn’t going away anytime soon.

“When did you turn into such a sap.” This isn’t healthy. You should acknowledge this. Talk to him.

“It’s for one day only.” Tim turned, a blinding smile plastered on his face as he met Kon’s eyes.

This is going to be interesting.

Even with Tim’s words in the back of is mind, he couldn’t help but feel kind of pathetic not being able to look in the mirror. Like he was being dramatic, over reacting. He catches himself staring in the reflections in windows, walking downtown. Looking at a version of himself that has since been dead and buried. And school. The whole reason for this change. He had to start school. He was still a teenager. But school, school was the worst. People were nice enough. Coming up and introducing themselves, wanting to be friends. But the harsh reality, he knew these people would have steered cleared if he looked like himself.

And that’s the thing about all of this, he guesses. Knowing you exist in a world that doesn’t want you there, enough that it forces you into a mold you don’t fit.

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Edit: I had to change the ending. I hated it. It’s still not quite how I wanted it to end but it’s defiantly better than the abrupt ending it had before.

#dc comics #conner kent #kon el #tim drake #timkon #kons having a break down #he just wants to be himself #Clark kent is a bad dad #I dont know how to tag this #this based off a drawing i saw #but i cant find it #if you have drawn identity crisis kon #please let me know #this is my first time posting my writing #please be nice #im sensitive #and will cry

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thornedrose44 · 4 years

Text

What Would It Take?

Read on AO3

Their friendship was stronger than it had ever been but it was also so, so, so different to what it once was for Kara.

They were open and honest about their day, their fears, their hopes… everything. And with all that came vulnerability, laying yourself bare and exposed.

For Lena, things were probably no different to the last time, she had always been open, had never hidden away parts of herself from Kara Danvers, had been honest about her relationship with Lex and all the positives and negatives that came with that.

But for Kara this was an entirely new experience.

Previously, Kara had kept her walls up and had hidden her defences behind lies and subterfuge. She would empathise with Lena but never reveal shared experiences, would keep her loss and pain close to the chest, would allude but never directly explain. Now, Kara was Kara Zor-El with Lena. There were no shadows to hide in, nor half-formed lies and rushed excuses to duck behind. She was no longer keeping a part of herself hidden away and protected.

When they re-started their friendship it came with the understanding that there would be no more lies or secrets between them. That for their friendship to work it had to be built on honesty at its most fundamental level.

With that agreement in place, over the course of their first few interactions, Kara came to a realisation that broke her.

It was the realisation that this (honesty and openness) was easier for Lena to do than it was for Kara. It was the realisation that Kara didn’t know how to have a relationship without some kind of secret to hide behind; even with Alex there were no-go topics and parts of themselves neither wanted to share. It was the realisation that Lena had time and time again, prior to the reveal, put herself out there thinking Kara was stood by her side, equally exposed and vulnerable.

With that realisation came a whole swathe of emotions.

Guilt.

Shame.

Pain.

Confusion.

But there also came a commitment.

A commitment to meet Lena halfway. To let herself be truly vulnerable with another person. Not just for Lena but for herself.

With that commitment came a strong friendship. A real one. More real than any Kara had ever had before.

Kara no longer filtered her thoughts to hide parts of herself. She spoke her mind and that… that was where the trouble really started.

For a number of reasons.

“Rao, you look beautiful.”

“Your mind is incredible.”

“You’re so graceful and elegant.”

“Lena, you’re just… fantastic, have I told you that recently?”

“I adore your eyes.”

All of those were said in a single day. Scratch that, a two hour period. Games Night to be exact.

Kara hadn’t even known she was doing it, let alone that frequently, until Nia had jumped into the air shouting “Bingo” after Kara had complimented Lena’s hair. Turns out the Superfriends (Kara was thinking of retracting that title) had started a ‘Compliment Bingo’ that they had been playing in secret for the last three months to capitalise on Kara’s tendency to sing Lena’s praises (literally singing Lena’s praises was on Alex and Brainy’s bingo charts and had won them the game at least twice). Nia and Alex had confessed all of this to Kara rather sheepishly after Lena had been pulled back to L-Corp to handle a business crisis following Nia’s ‘bingo’ exclamation.

Bingo-gate probably should have put an end to the compliments but by that point Kara had become somewhat addicted to the pink blush that would dust Lena’s lovely cheeks whenever Kara blurted out a compliment without thinking (having put her filter aside at the restart of their friendship).

See, the thing is… the big realisation at the restart of their friendship wasn’t just about Kara’s sudden self reflection nor her guilt for the earlier handling of her friendship with Lena. They were big parts, huge even, but they weren’t everything. And they weren’t the part that was plaguing Kara now, six months later.

The big realisation, the actual one that had come with having Lena in her life in a full and complete way after being deprived for so long, after thinking that she might never have her back again, never hold her hand, never hug her was…

Love.

Kara loved her.

The big kind of love.

The love Alex had been telling her about over the course of countless sister nights when it came to Maggie and now to Kelly.

The kind of love that meant every time you looked at them you saw something that was just so perfect and wonderful that you can barely keep the words of adoration back (not that Kara even tried to anymore). The kind of love that meant you wanted them safe and cared for.

And despite six months of carefully reconstructed friendship. Six months of coming to grips with the big realisation. Six months of being vulnerable with Lena. Six months of her eyes being open to a new reality where she was in love with her best friend.

Six life-changing months and it never even crossed her mind that Lena could feel the same way about her.

That was until today...

Today, Kara was going food shopping and, since she was also getting snacks for games night later that evening, Lena had offered to come along and help.

It was something that had become standard between them now. Keeping each other company for random chores and daily life excursions. Kara accompanied Lena to the gym to provide the CEO with light conversation and motivation despite not receiving any tangible benefit from the activity (though Kara found the sight of Lena, with a light sheen of sweat, stretching after a workout was a reward beyond anything she could have imagined). Lena, meanwhile, helped Kara with her taxes and happily kept Kara company when she had to sort out her laundry.

Kara had never had a friendship like this before. All of her other friendships (not including Alex) had required that there was some form of entertainment to go alongside every interaction. With Lena, there was no longer that pressure there. Lena would happily work away on her laptop whilst Kara edited her recent article without complaint, in fact, the raven-haired woman seemed to likewise appreciate how at ease they both felt when silent.

Therefore, when Lena offered to come food-shopping with her, Kara didn’t think twice about saying yes.

Kara worried her bottom lip as she looked between the two loaves of bread. One was freshly baked and still slightly warm to the touch. The other was store-branded, squashed on one side and far less appetising but it was a dollar cheaper. Kara let out a regretful sigh, as she put back the warm new loaf and grabbed two of the cheaper variety. Kara headed back to the trolley, tossing in her latest picks before dropping her gaze to scrutinise her scribbled list of items.

“Why didn’t you buy the other one?” Lena asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Hmm…” Kara hummed, glancing over at the raven haired woman who had an unreadable expression on her face.

“The other loaf of bread.”

“This one’s cheaper.” Kara replied gesturing to the squashed loaves in the trolley.

“Why not get both?” Lena prompted.

“I don’t need both.”

“You may not need that particular loaf but you definitely need more than two.” Lena asserted, moving forward to lean against the side of Kara’s trolley, bringing her into Kara’s space.

Kara barely held back the ‘Rao, your eyes are the purest green’ that flitted through her mind as she struggled to stay focused on the rather bizarre conversation she was having right now. “I only ever buy two.” Kara pointed out.

“Yes but you need more.” Lena insisted, her gaze narrowing.

“I do?” Kara said dumbly, uncertain where Lena’s intensity was coming from.

“Yes!” Lena declared, “With the number of calories you burn through due to your ‘extra-curricular’ activities, you require a far more substantive intake that what you are currently acquiring for yourself.”

“Huh?” Kara blinked, she had definitely been listening but her attention had been only half on what Lena was saying; the other half had been on the way Lena’s long, delicate fingers twisted around the wired bars of the trolley so elegantly.

“Kara…” Lena sighed, her green eyes going soft and melancholic in that particular way that always made Kara’s heart flutter and twist in her chest as if it wanted to reach out itself to soothe the other woman. “The amount of food you have in your trolley and how much you intend to buy are nowhere near enough to cover your daily requirements. If my calculations are correct, you need to be buying out the entire store every other week.”

Kara’s face reddened with embarrassment at the far too accurate assessment causing her to rub the back of her neck nervously.

It was the fact that they had promised to be honest with one another in tandem with the destruction of Kara’s filter when it came to Lena, that resulted in the following words coming out of the blonde’s mouth so easily, “Shockingly enough, not everyone can buy an entire store.”

Kara hadn’t said it to be cruel or to disparage Lena’s own wealthy status. It wasn’t about that.

It was simply an honest statement.

One which revealed far more about Kara’s financial woes than she had ever let anyone find out. Not even Alex knew how Kara struggled to afford the food costs that came with being Supergirl. Alex had never joined the dots that Kara’s increased power usage would require an increased calorie count.

One which Kara frequently struggled to afford.

Lena, however, had already made the connection if the unsurprised look on her face at Kara’s response was anything to go by.

“What would it take for you to let me pay for it?” Lena questioned cutting right to the chase.

Kara was suddenly struck with the clarity that this was why Lena had requested to come with her to the supermarket in the first place.

“No, Lena, you can’t.” Kara rejected without even bothering to consider it as an option.

“Why not?” Lena tilted her head to the side expectantly, obviously wanting a clear cut reason, “Is it pride?”

“You’re my friend.” Kara reasoned futilely.

“Your friend, who wants to help.” Lena pointed out.

“It’s too much.” Kara tried instead.

“It’s food, Kara.” Lena said simply, “It’s a basic necessity that is never too much.” Lena reached out and placed a hand atop of Kara’s one that was tightly gripping her list of food that she could afford. Lena’s touch was gentle and grounding. “It is the bare minimum especially considering all you do for this city.”

Kara shook her head, dropping her gaze to the ground, “I don’t do that expecting anything in return.”

“I know that, that’s one of the reasons why I-” Lena’s voice cut off causing Kara to look up sharply at her, “Just...” Lena huffed out a breath of frustration, “Just tell me what it would take.”

“Lena…”

“What would it take?” Lena pushed.

“Why does it matter so much?” Kara asked instead of answering, switching the focus around. “I’ve been fine for years like this, Lena. Why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter?!” Lena spluttered, looking positively outraged. “It matters because it’s you. It matters because you deserve to have as much food as you need without worrying about paying rent. It matters because you matter. It matters because I-” Lena paled, biting down on her bottom lip hard.

“Because you?” Kara whispered, blue eyes wide with shock and hope as her heart hammered against the cage of her chest.

Lena opened and closed her mouth, her whole body tense and rigid before she exhaled deeply causing her entire being to deflate in acceptance and her head to hang, depriving Kara of bright green, “We promised each other honesty.” Lena muttered helplessly to herself, before she raised her chin determinedly, “Because I love you.”

The whole world went still. Everything went quiet. And Kara completely forgot how to breathe as Lena, yet again, took that first step of vulnerability. Yet again ventured forward, tearing down her own walls, to do something Kara didn’t know how to do.

Rao, Kara was in total awe of this woman.

This woman she adored. This woman that loved her.

This woman that made her want to strip away all her armour so that all of her could feel what it was like to bask in the presence of the one and only Lena Luthor.

“It matters for all the other reasons I said as well.” Lena continued, utterly unaware of how she had caused Kara’s entire being to unravel. “But it also matters because I love you and I can’t do nothing, Kara. I can’t do nothing when I have the very means to help you. So, please, please, please just tell me what it would take. Tell me what-”

Lena’s demands were cut off yet again.

Though this time it wasn’t her own doing, but Kara’s.

Kara’s lips pressed against hers to be exact.

It was there in the bread aisle of the local supermarket that Kara Zor-El did the first thing in her life solely as and for herself. The first time that Kara Zor-El was simply Kara Zor-El with no barriers, no armour, no secrets… and the free version of her wanted nothing more than to kiss the woman she loved.

So she did.

And it was… transcendent…

Kara cupped Lena’s cheeks with her hands so, so, so gently. She wasn’t keeping her in place or even guiding, her palms were barely brushing Lena’s skin but Kara had never needed something so much, to feel like she had her whole world safely cherished in her hands.

Lena’s lips were soft and pliable and Kara took so much care in mapping them out. Finding out how to slot their lips so that they fit perfectly together. Where to apply pressure to cause Lena’s breath to stutter. How to coax Lena’s lips gently open with the lightest swipe of her tongue.

Kara eventually pulled back an infinitesimal distance, parting so that their lips were just out of touch and their foreheads resting against each other.

“Marry me.” Kara breathed out.

“What?” Lena gasped, jerking backwards, green eyes wide and kiss-swollen lips parted in shock.

Kara laughed gleefully as she dropped her hands away from Lena’s face to wrap them around the other woman’s waist and pull her close.

“Did… did you-” Lena stuttered.

“Answer your question.” Kara grinned, pressing swift and delicate kisses to Lena’s jaw.

“My question?” Lena murmured, turning her head to the side to allow Kara a path down her neck.

“What would it take.” Kara muttered, nipping at Lena’s tendon and producing a sharp intake of breath. “For you to buy the whole store for me every other week.”

“Oh…” Lena leaned back to arch a sharp eyebrow at the blonde as a mischievous smile took over her face, “Well, now I have a goal to work towards.”

Kara’s eyes crinkled at the edges with joy, “Yeah, I guess you do.”

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 3 years

Note

Just want to say I ♥️ your blog & your writings!! That being said, I'd like to request a prompt where Shoto confess his feelings to Izuku, only for said confession to trigger Izu's unpleasant memories from his middle school days. (Think of the bad memories as/like the flashback prom scene from the 1999 film "Never Been Kissed") 'K, that's all I want to say. TYSM & ILYSM 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Ohmigosh thank you so much ILY2?!?!?! Of course, friendo - hope you enjoy! 💖💖💖 (I haven’t watched Never Been Kissed, but I looked up the scene for reference and changed a few things, hope that’s okay! :))

(Izuku, sweetie, I am so sorry for what I’m about to do to you, but it’ll be okay in the end I promise)

Izuku stared at Aizawa's back tiredly and sighed. Usually, he'd be scribbling away in his workbook at the mere prospect of learning more about the emergence of heroes, but he found that his heart just wasn't in it today.

He hadn’t slept much the night before and the quirk training that his class had completed last period was still on his mind, draining all of his energy in more ways than one. Not only was Izuku physically exhausted from it, but his mind was also reaching its wit’s end. Every time he closed his eyes, instead of strategies and new ways to adapt One for All, his vision was filled with very distracting images of Todoroki.

The two of them had been sparring partners for their training and it had started off great. Both of them had been performing quite admirably, he reckoned, until his crush had somehow managed to burn his shirt off again, causing Izuku to stumble on his feet for a moment. Eventually, he had managed to pin his friend to the ground, claiming his victory in front of the class, but it didn’t stop there. While his peers had let out a series of whoops, Izuku could focus only on the way Todoroki had gazed up at him, flustered and panting heavily; he looked like he wanted to tell Izuku something.

He was jolted out of his stupor when a clump of paper hit him across the face and fell onto his desk. Looking at the offending material with suspicion, he discreetly opened it to find Uraraka's handwriting staring back at him.

“Todoroki-kun is watching you.”

Izuku looked up to meet his friend's knowing eyes and scowled. Uraraka merely smirked in response and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Unable to stop himself, he lobbed the paper back at her. The ball hit his friend square in the forehead, eliciting a surprised shriek from her. Izuku felt a little guilty when Aizawa turned to look at her, unimpressed, but that didn’t stop a smug grin from plastering to his face.

He then chanced a look back and found Todoroki gazing at him almost longingly. When they made eye contact, Izuku’s eyes widened and he quickly whipped his head back around, trying to ignore the heat flooding to his cheeks.

Todoroki-kun was watching me!

☀️🌙

'Deku-kun, you can't keep going like this!'

'I can, I shall and I will.' Izuku replied easily, gathering his things into his backpack. The last bell had just rung, prompting Uraraka to immediately bolt out of her seat to nag him about Todoroki.

'Come on! He totally likes you back! He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you straddled him in front of the class - not that he doesn't always stare at you, but usually he has more tact-'

'Uraraka-chan, stop. It's not gonna happen.' As much as he knew that his friend was only trying to help, he didn't like it. Uraraka was giving him hope and Izuku had learnt early on in his life that hope almost always ended in disappointment.

He sighed heavily. 'He doesn't even think of me that wa-'

Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder and Izuku leapt several metres into the air with a shriek, promptly bashed his head on the ceiling and collapsed to the ground with a groan.

'Midoriya!' Todoroki knelt down beside him, his expression one of concern, while Uraraka's distant cackling could be heard in the background. 'Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you.'

'N- No, it's okay, Todoroki-kun! Sorry for worrying you.' He accepted his friend's outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet, dusting his clothes. Izuku then peered up at his crush to find him staring at his shoes, clearly nervous. 'What did you want to talk about?'

Pink dusted Todoroki's cheeks and Izuku had to restrain himself from outwardly cooing.

'Can we talk in private?' He rubbed the back of his neck, quickly glancing at Uraraka, who seemed to take the hint, for once.

'Okayyyy! Meet you two back in the common room!' As she bounced past them, she gave Izuku a knowing look and mouthed details later, before shutting the door behind her.

Silence fell over them then, broken only by Izuku's rapid heartbeat that was drumming in his ears. He watched as Todoroki shuffled on his feet and scratched his cheek out of habit.

‘I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while but I’m not very good with words, not like you are. I tried writing it down, practicing in front of a mirror - I even asked Yaoyorozu for help, but I don’t think it was very useful, so I gave up and tried to forget about it.’ Todoroki swallowed heavily and raised his eyes to where Izuku’s tie was. ‘But I can’t. Everywhere I go, I think of you; your smile, the way you can light up an entire room, everything about you is just so unforgettable.’

‘Todoroki-kun...’

‘And then we had that sparring session and you pinned me, but I wasn’t even mad about losing. All I could think about was the way you were looking at me. You looked so gorgeous and I felt so lucky. I wanted to tell you as much, but then everyone started cheering, so I didn’t, but in that moment I realised that if I don’t tell you, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, so here it goes.’

Todoroki finally looked up to meet his eyes.

'I think I'm in love with you, Midoriya.'

Izuku's heart stopped.

☀️🌙

Before he could comprehend what was happening, someone grabbed his hand and pulled him into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind them.

Taking in his surroundings, Izuku turned to find Aina, a girl from his class that he had harboured a crush for, for a while now. She looked at him through heavy-lidded blue eyes. Immediately, a blush formed across his face and Izuku swallowed thickly - no one had ever looked at him like that before.

'Er… I-' His attempt to gain some insight into the situation was quickly stifled by his inability to speak without stuttering. 'Wha- How can I he-'

'I think I'm in love with you.' She suddenly exclaimed, passion laced in her voice.

Izuku blinked once, then twice… Then he scrambled to hide his face with his arms as the weight of the confession finally hit him.

'WHAT?!' He squeaked a little bit too loudly.

Aina relaxed a little bit and smiled softly at him.

'I said, I think I'm in love with you.' She stepped forward, now less than a metre away. 'You're so handsome and intelligent. I've had a crush on you since last year. I didn't want to say anything because you're too good for me, but I just can't keep it in anymore.'

Izuku took a step back, but Aina just took a step forward to counter him. 'I want to be with you. Please, Midoriya-kun!'

So many thoughts raced through his mind. Aina wanted to be with him?! Aina, who had guys fawning over her 24/7, who was smart and athletic, and had such a useful quirk that allowed her to create basic foods. She really loved him? Quirkless, useless Deku, who liked to mumble to himself and carry around notebooks full of information about heroes that he had never met? It was almost laughable.

‘But I’m quirkless.’ He tilted his head to the side in question. ‘I’m a crybaby who mutters to himself. You can’t possibly like me.’

Aina chuckled quietly at that, which further confused Izuku.

‘I don’t care if you’re quirkless - you have a big heart and that’s all that matters.’ She took another step forward; Izuku blushed at the proximity. ‘I love it when men cry and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. You’re inspiring, Midoriya-kun, truly.’

Izuku knew he shouldn’t believe her - years of developing a thick skin had taught him not to trust anyone… But Aina was looking at him with such sincerity that Izuku allowed himself to hope that maybe it was real. After all, he had always tried to look at things positively. Maybe it wasn’t too bad to allow one person into his life? Aina had never given him any reason to doubt her - she never picked on him like Kacchan and the others did.

‘Really?’ He whispered, tears brimming from the corner of his eyes.

‘Really.’ Aina replied. She rose to her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around Izuku’s neck, eliciting a small squeak from him.

So close!

‘Can I...’ Aina bit her bottom lip, a blush forming across her cheeks. ‘Can I kiss you, Midoriya?’

Izuku's breath hitched and, before he could stop himself, he nodded awkwardly.

Aina laughed and whispered, ‘Close your eyes.’

Izuku swallowed heavily and complied. His eyes fluttered shut and he waited, frantically trying to calm his breathing as his heart pounded against his chest. He felt Aina edge closer to him, until her breath fanned his face and he could smell her perfume. He exhaled shakily, parting his lips in preparation. However, before their lips could meet, his crush suddenly ducked to the side.

She chuckled and whispered into the shell of his ear. ‘Did you really think someone like me could love a quirkless freak like you?’

Izuku’s eyes shot wide open and his stomach dropped when Aina stepped back to smirk at him. She wasn’t alone though; while his eyes had been closed, several others, including Kacchan, had filtered into the room and were staring at him. Some glared at him with disgust, others sniggered with amusement, while Kacchan sneered at him with outright disdain.

‘I- I don’t understand.’ Izuku stuttered out, stepping backwards and knocking the back of his legs against a desk.

‘This is a lesson, Deku.’ Kacchan spat, while Aina grinned from his side. ‘Never hope for anything in your miserable life. You’ll never be a hero.’ He stepped forward. ‘You’ll never have friends.‘

He took another step; Izuku could see himself in the reflection of Kacchan’s crimson irises. ‘And you’ll never be loved by anyone except your poor mum who has no other choice.’

He set off an explosion in Izuku’s face then, knocking him back against the desk. The moment he fell, Aina called out ‘Now’ and the others in the room bustled to action. Before Izuku could comprehend what was happening, several eggs were thrown at him. The first one cracked against his chest, padded by his uniform, but when the next one hit, he wasn’t so lucky. A brittle shell cracked against his forehead, sending its runny innards trailing down his face and sealing his eye shut.

Izuku hastily tried to wipe the yolk away, but when another egg slammed against his left temple, he cried out and curled in on himself. Forgoing any attempts to clean himself or fight back, he crawled into a ball position and waited it out as several more eggs smashed against him, until his shirt was sticky and his hair was plastered to his face.

He wouldn’t cry though. He refused to give them the satisfaction. He panted to control his breathing and when his peers eventually stopped, he gingerly raised his head from his arms. He rubbed at his stinging eye and sat up to find Kacchan and Aina standing over him.

‘Have you learnt your lesson yet, Deku?’ The blonde spoke dangerously. Before Izuku could even open his mouth to respond though, Kacchan raised his arm and, using his quirk, threw his final egg at him.

It struck his nose with a crack and blood shot out of his nostrils. Izuku cried out then, the sheer power behind it sending him back to the dirty floor. Cracked shells dug into his face as he used the sleeve of his uniform to pinch his nose.

Aina bent down then and Izuku stared at her at best as he could with his one working eye. Any feelings he had for her had quickly transformed into a deep loathing that he had only ever felt towards Kacchan.

Blood trickled down into his mouth and Izuku spat it out onto the carpet, indifferent to the way it mixed in with the yellow yolks around him.

‘Anything to say?’ She asked, voice sickeningly sweet. When Izuku remained silent, she snorted, before standing up and following Kacchan out of the room. However, when they reached the door, she looked over her shoulder at him, her words echoing across the room.

‘You are nothing.’

☀️🌙

‘Midoriya? Midoriya, are you okay?’

Izuku sobbed into his hands, eyes squeezed shut as he crouched down. When Todoroki called his name again, the ghost of egg shells cracking against him tickled his skin cruelly and he found himself pushing his friend’s hand away when he tried to touch him.

‘You don’t mean that!’ He shouted, hating how wet his voice sounded. Why Todoroki? Out of all the people, why did it have to be him? Was this another cruel joke? Was Kacchan going to appear with the rest of his class and taunt him like last time?

'I do mean it.' Todoroki pressed, voice almost pleading.

'You can't!' Izuku grit his teeth and pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes. 'I trusted you! Why are you doing this?!'

'I- I'm-' His crush stuttered through his words, the hurt in his voice echoing that of Izuku's heart. 'I'm sorry. I just needed you to know-'

'You're lying!' Izuku exclaimed, tearing his hands away and looking up at Todoroki with red-rimmed eyes. Any other time and he would've quickly noticed just how distraught his friend was, but right now, his mind was plagued by the sniggering faces and humiliating taunts of his peers. He felt nothing but the ache of the purple bruises that had stained his skin for over a week after the incident. He thought of how he had opened his heart once before, only to have had it thrown back in his face.

He blinked as more tears escaped him. 'You don't love me! No one can love me. I'm useless Deku. I am nothing!'

'What are you talking about?' Todoroki frowned; a look of anger flashed across his face and he knelt down to look Izuku in the eye. 'That's not fair, Midoriya. You don't get to tell me how to feel. You don't have to like it, but I love you. Feel free to hate me, to push me away, to wish I was gone from your life forever, but do not call me a liar when I've never been anything but honest with you!'

Izuku froze at that. Memories of when he had finally told Todoroki about One for All came flooding back to him. He remembered how upset his friend had been at the prospect of Izuku not trusting him, how he had promised never to lie to Todoroki again. He remembered how his friend had promised to do the same, even though he had no reason to, and at that moment, Izuku finally realised how foolish he had been.

This wasn't Kacchan or Aina. This was Todoroki, kind, brave and caring. Todoroki, who had followed Izuku into danger more times than he could count. Todoroki, who constantly told him just how amazing he was.

Todoroki... Who had just told Izuku that he loved him.

'Fuck.' He muttered to himself, running his hands down his face. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Todoroki-kun. I wasn't- I didn't…'

'What's wrong?' Dichromatic eyes searched his own for answers. 'Please, Midoriya.'

'This has happened before.' Izuku admitted, wiping his runny nose with his sleeve. He took a deep breath and retold what had occurred all those years ago. As he spoke, he noticed the anger that had resurfaced on Todoroki’s face, albeit it was not directed at him this time.

When Izuku finally finished explaining, he exhaled and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Well, now you know.’

‘Midoriya-’ Todoroki began, shaking his head. ‘You- You know I would never do that to you, right?'

Izuku remained silent. Todoroki was right - he knew deep down that he had no reason to doubt his friend, but the nagging voice in his head didn’t care about logic.

Todoroki sighed heavily. ‘You’re my best friend, my first ever friend. I would never intentionally hurt you. I meant what I said before. I love you and we don’t deliberately hurt the ones we love. You taught me that. Be that as it may though, I understand that you don’t feel the same way about me and that’s okay. I can push my feelings aside for the sake of our friendship. Having you in my life is already more than I deserve-’

‘No.’ Izuku reached out a trembling hand and rested it against his friend’s scarred cheek. ‘I don’t deserve you. You’re- You’re amazing, Todoroki-kun, and I-’

He turned away then and bit his lip. It was silly - Izuku had always worn his heart on his sleeve. Why was it now so difficult for him to tell his friend how he was really feeling? He trusted Todoroki with his life, yet something was holding him back.

You’ll never be loved by anyone.

His vision blurred.

You are nothing.

A hand came up to rest against his own and Izuku’s head shot upwards to find Todoroki nuzzling his cheek against his calloused palm. Izuku stared unabashedly at his friend, at the way his jaw relaxed as he gazed right back at him, at the way his dichromatic eyes shone like the sky as the classroom light reflected off his brimming tears, at the way his cheeks were dusted a slight pink and radiated warmth from the contact, and at the way his mouth was slightly upturned as he urged Izuku to carry on, even if it meant rejection.

Todoroki’s courage inspired his own.

‘I- I love you too.’ Izuku squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Truly, I do, and it scares me. It scares me because so much could go wrong. Even if you’re not cruel like Kacchan and Aina, something else could go wrong and I don’t think I could take it if that happened.’

‘Don’t you think it’s worth the risk?’ Todoroki gently removed Izuku’s hand to intertwine their fingers. ‘There’s always a possibility of something going wrong - even if we weren’t training to be heroes. The one thing I am certain of though is that I would never hurt you. I would hold you and treasure you and there isn't a person alive who could stop me from caring about you.’

Izuku's body moved before he could comprehend what was happening. He threw himself forwards and tackled Todoroki to the ground, eliciting a surprised grunt from his friend. As they fell, he held the back of Todoroki's head to protect his crush from the hard floor, not minding the way his knuckles stung slightly from the impact.

'Todoroki-kun…' Izuku nuzzled into his friend's neck, warmth seeping into his very core when gentle arms wrapped around his waist. 'You truly are perfect. Nothing could ever stop me from caring about you either. I love you. I love you so much, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for-'

'I forgive you.' Todoroki leant his cheek against Izuku's hair, arms tightening around him. 'You were scared. I know what that's like, but you helped me, remember? Let me help you.’

Izuku’s tears drenched his friend’s uniform, but Todoroki said nothing, instead rubbing soothing circles across his back as he sobbed against him. When his eyes eventually dried out and his voice was hoarse, Izuku finally pulled away to look down at his friend. The view was oddly reminiscent of their fight from earlier.

‘Can… Can I kiss you, Midoriya?’ Todoroki asked, raising a hand to cup his jaw.

Izuku smiled down at him, before nodding once. He had had crushes before, but nothing compared to how he was feeling right now. Todoroki wasn’t just some crush, he was his friend, and Izuku would do anything for him without a second thought.

‘Yes.’

Todoroki flashed him a soft smile, before gently guiding Izuku’s head down, lifting his own to meet him halfway. Izuku met soft lips and he felt warmth that he hadn’t known was possible. Their noses bumped together and neither of them seemed to know what to do next, but it was more perfect than he could have ever imagined because he was kissing Todoroki.

‘I love you.’ Izuku whispered against his mouth, relishing in the way Todoroki let out a breathy laugh in response before pressing another kiss to his lips.

Yeah, hope led to disappointment most of the time, but nothing about Todoroki could ever be disappointing to Izuku.

#tododeku #midoriya izuku #todoroki shoto #tw: blood #tw: bullying #bitchy ocs #bk is a bully and a bad person #flashbacks #tw: food #angst #hurt/comfort #AgarJelly writes #wingman ochaco

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littlemisslol-fic · 4 years

Link

Varigo week continues!!! @alistairwrites these prompts are so fun omg

Day Two: First Kiss 😘😘

They said that if you wanted a favor, you could always go ask the Witch of the Iron Wood.

Varian’s sure it’s bullshit, of course it is. Witches aren’t real- the only magic that he’s ever come across is from artifacts and space rocks; things that, no matter how you looked at it, are already goddamn weird to start with. Magic is just a type of power they have yet to harness, something celestial and ancient- but within the parameters of science.

He’s never believed the rumours, that if you went to the woods bordering Corona and the Iron Kingdom and walked so deep into the woods you risked getting lost, you might come across the esteemed witch. For a price, they said, the witch would grant you a single wish and be done with you. Your debt would be paid, and you’d wake up in your own bed without a clue as to how you got there, with your wish fulfilled. Varian’s never believed it, never wanted to believe it- he’s a man of science, damn it, and he’ll stick to science, thank you very much.

But…

Then his dad had gotten sick.

Something in Quirin’s lungs- potentially too many cold mornings working in the field, maybe too long trapped in the amber, or perhaps just a stroke of bad luck- had festered and eaten away at him, leaving the man nearly bedridden in a matter of weeks. Varian, only twenty, had been forced to listen as the doctor recommended that Quirin start writing an airtight will, just in case, to assure that Varian would be taken care of in case… in case Quirin didn’t make it.

Varian had worked himself into a tizzy, refusing to leave his father’s side, brewing medicine and other alchemical solutions in an attempt to find a cure, a fix-it, something, anything, to save his father. But nothing had worked, and Varian was at his wits end.

So when someone had spoken of their own failed trek to find the witch, Varian- desperate as he was- had packed a bag and started running.

It was a long shot, longer than he liked to think, but if there was even a semblance of a chance that this Witch of the Iron Wood could help his father… then Varian was willing to try. So he’d packed a bag, left his father in the competent care of Old Corona’s best physician, and had started the three-day trek to the Iron Wood.

The forest was ancient, and it wore its years well. Grand trees stood nearly thirty meters tall, gnarled and drooping with ivy and vines, covered every inch of the woods in a way that suffocated light and sound. Standing at the threshold Varian had nearly turned back- what good was he to his father if he ended up lost in the woods… or dead?- but the memory of Quirin’s pale face and limp chest spurred him forwards, allowing the woods to swallow him whole.

He’d wandered for a two days, tripping over twisted roots and sleeping in trees to keep himself away from curious wildlife. It’s on the third day, when Varian’s well and truly lost, that he stumbles upon the cabin. It’s plain, humble. well kept but obviously old in the way the creeping ivy had grown close around the building, digging deep into the stone over the course of years.

It's set in a small clearing, surrounded by a lush garden of herbs and plants Varian has no name for- he’s never been one for the apothecary side of the sciences- and a prim, well built fence. It’s a modest cabin, made of cobblestone and thick wooden timbers, with a single chimney merrily spitting a small plume of smoke. The windows are large, and Varian can catch sight of rows of plants poking out from under the curtains inside.

The cabin is warm, inviting.

Suspicious.

Varian approaches with caution, walking forwards with a tenseness to his shoulders. He can’t be sure if this the cabin, or just a cabin, but it’s best to approach as if it were a trap- better to be wrong and look strange, than be too casual and end up dead. Birdsong rings through the calm clearing; sunlight beams down in shining pillars that sets the grass aglow. He doesn’t trust it for a second.

There’s a little stone path that leads up to the front door. Varian follows it with a measured step, ignoring the happy little bees that gently float between the flowers. For all he knows, this is a trap. The Witch of the Iron Wood could be a con artist, a thief, hell, even an actual witch who wasn’t super into the idea of helping people so much as sacrificing them for weird witch-spells.

Magic bullshit. Can’t be too careful.

Still, Varian wasn’t raised in a barn; when he reaches the oak front door he still knocks like a normal person, and waits for an answer. It doesn’t come. Curiously, he raises his hand to knock against the old door again, only for the door to swing wide open by itself with a long, drawn out creak of old hinges.

“Oh, that’s creepy.” Varian mutters to himself, peeking into the dark interior of the cabin beyond. “Super creepy.”

He peeks behind himself, looking back down the path with a grimace. He could just turn around, go home… but then what if Quirin wasn’t improving? What if he was worse, and Varian had turned away from an option to save him because he was scared? Varian’s hands clench at the thought, so tightly he can feel his nails through his gloves. He turns back around and gazes into the darkness in front of him.

Teeth grit, Varian walks forwards into the cabin.

The interior of the building is just as well maintained as the exterior. The room Varian steps into is a great room of some sort, a larger space with a small kitchen pushed to the side and a series of mismatched, but well loved, couches and chairs surrounding a large fireplace in the very center of the room. Hanging above the fireplace is a large cauldron, filled to the brim with a smoking, bright purple concoction. The light from outside filters through the wall of plants Varian had noticed while outside, keeping the interior relatively dark.

“This place just keeps getting creepier,” Varian grumbles into the empty air, approaching the cauldron with hesitant steps.

“Well, thank you, I built it myself.” Comes a snarky voice from behind, startling Varian into flinging himself forwards, hiding behind the cast iron cauldron. For a brief second, he considers making a break for the door-

Which slams shut of its own accord.

Perfect.

Varian risks a peek up and over the edge of the cauldron, the steam hazing his vision over as he crouches on the floorboards. Before him stands a blond man, looking at Varian with an expectant expression. It tugs at his pale face in an attractive way, tilts his glasses askew in a way that compliments the choppy blond hair and pony tail the taller boy sports. He’s dressed in green, a similar shade to his honestly stunning eyes and-

Wow. Wow okay time to tone that down.

Varian peeks over the lip of the cauldron a little more, sizing the taller man up. The other stands between Varian and the door, he’d have to get around him to get out-

“So, what is it that you want?” The blond asks, and Varian realizes how out of place he is.

“I- sorry!” Varian crows, stepping back from the cauldron as if it’d burnt him. “Sorry, the door was open, and I’m actually looking for someone that lives out here, and-”

“Listen.” Blondie cuts him off. “I know that you’re here to ask your favour, so. What is it? Gold, immortality, love? I don’t have all day, spit it out.”

“I-”

“Wait, no, I bet you I can guess. You look like a nerd, something to do with fame? Glory?”

“No!”

Blondie raises a brow. There’s a brief second of pause, before Varian finally fully creeps out from behind the cauldron. He takes a breath. For dad, he thinks.

“My name is Varian,” He starts. The blond man raises a brow, looking rather confused to be given a name. “What’s yours?”

“H-Hugo.” The blond stutters a bit, like he wasn’t ready to be asked that. Varian smiles.

“Hugo,” He repeats. “Nice to meet you. Are you the one everyone’s been calling a witch?”

“Sure am.” Hugo replies, taking a step forward. Varian feels his face light up, even as he’s passed by in lieu of the cauldron. Hugo begins to stir the liquid, looking at it judgementally. He twists around towards one of the plants on the windowsill, plucking a leaf off it and tossing it in. The mixture goes a shade of green, not unlike pea soup.

“Great!” Varian chirps, “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me?”

“Yeah, your wish, right?” Hugo mutters, “That’s all anyone ever cares about. So what is it you want?”

“I- that’s a little sad.” Varian says, “No one ever just visits you?”

“Nope,” Hugo says, popping the p. “And neither did you, so spit it out.”

“My… my father is sick.” Varian finally says, looking to the floor. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to help him get better, but nothing works.”

Hugo pauses in his stirring, looking back to Varian with a calculating look. “You realize you could ask for anything, right?” He says, “Eternal life, endless fortune, riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I didn’t think that was real.” Varian replies, frankly. “I thought you would just be a skilled healer. That’s all I was looking for.”

“Just medicine.” Hugo says, as if he thinks it’s a joke. His face twists into something confused when Varian nods.

“Just medicine.” The shorter of them says with conviction. “Nothing else. Whatever your price is, I’ll pay it; I just want my father to be well again.”

Hugo looks to Varian like he’s grown a second head. Varian looks at him with a schooled expression, choking back the anxiety boiling in his gut. If this didn’t work, if this Hugo couldn’t help him, then Quirin would surely not have long left-

“Fine.” Hugo says, “I think that’s a stupid wish, but who am I to stop you from throwing it away?”

Varian’s expression must do something stupid, because Hugo laughs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” He mutters, reaching forwards towards Varian with a grin. The shorter of them feels his face heat up in a blush, going red at their sudden closeness, but winces when Hugo reaches up and tugs a single strand of hair from his hair.

“Ow,” Varian whines, rubbing at the spot the hair had been tugged from. “Why’d you do that?”

“Ingredients.” Hugo chides, “And unless you’re going to stop asking stupid questions, you can go wait outside.”

Varian pauses at that, quietly taking a seat on one of the chairs. Hugo looks at him with another questioning expression, but eventually the blond shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He mutters, and goes back to his work.

Varian watches with rapt attention as herbs and other ingredients get tossed into the cauldron in precise amounts, the mixture going every colour of the rainbow over the next hour. Hugo works quickly, focused on his… potion? Elixir? Varian’s not sure what to call it actually. While Varian keeps from asking questions, that doesn’t stop him from watching with a keen eye as the mixture continues to bubble. After an hour, it eventually turns a rather pleasant shade of lilac purple and stops smoking. Hugo looks smug about it, so Varian assumes the mixture must be finished.

Hugo takes a small pipette from a nearby shelf of strange looking glass instruments- Varian would kill to be able to know what they all did, though Hugo doesn’t seem apt to share- and uses the tool to transfer some of the mixture into a small, glass vial. He does this three more times, making a total of four, before placing them into a small bag.

“And done.” Hugo says, more to himself than to Varian. He twists around with a smarmy grin, holding the bag out. Varian looks at it with a sense of wonderous apprehension, reaching out a hand but stopping himself before he can touch the crushed red velvet. He stands from the couch, pursing his lips.

“What’s the trade?” He asks without malice, but with a hefty amount of suspicion. Hugo’s smile draws wider, and Varian brings his hand fully back to his chest. Always a catch, with magic, something cynical in him groans, absolute bullshit.

“Well,” Hugo muses, “There’s always things that I need from around, though to be honest I’m pretty stocked up on anything I could want.”

“Surely there’s something?” Varian says with a hint of panic- Hugo wouldn’t make the stupid potion only to refuse to trade Varian for it, right? The previous anxiety rears its head again; stupid magic, honestly, always being so contrived.

“There is one thing,” Hugo muses, eyes trailing on Varian’s face. The shorter man feels himself blush again as Hugo steps close, cupping his chin in a way that feels scarily intimate for someone he’s only just met. “One, tiny thing…” Hugo says, trailing off. Varian can’t help but feel a little thrill, pressing closer, unconsciously, to the extremely attractive man in front of him.

“Anything.” Varian says with a small grin of his own, having half an idea of where Hugo might be going with this from the way the blond’s gaze lingers on Varian’s own lips. He’s not against it, not at all; Varian’s not the type, usually, but something about the blond in front of him draws him in. Hugo’s smile widens at the permission, leaning forwards.

It’s a chaste kiss, a little too soft and sweet for strangers, but one that Varian can say he enjoys. He’s never been kissed before, but if this is what it’s like- the smooth press of lips against his own, the soft feeling of a body pressed up against his front- suddenly all those romantic ballads make a lot more sense.

Varian’s eyes slip closed, barely registering as the bag is slipped into his hands. After what could be hours, or merely seconds, Hugo pulls back. Varian keeps his eyes closed, hoping to entice the blond to come back and kiss him again.

“Have your father drink that twice a day, every twelve hours.” Hugo says, his tone somewhat sad. When Varian opens his eyes again, he is standing in his bedroom, alone. He brings up a dazed hand to lightly touch at his lips, blinking in shock.

The sudden silence rings in his ears.

BANNER

“Well, Olivia.” Hugo says to his beloved pet, “Another few hours to go, and then we’ll break for dinner.”

He’s out in his garden, weeding. Nimble, long fingers deftly pull undesirable plants from his herbs, tossing them into a nearby pile. Oliva, small little mouse that she is, does her own work of yanking out the smaller plants, working on her own pile. Hugo smiles as she chirps her assent at his idea, plopping a rogue dandelion on her pile with a squeak.

It had been nearly a week since Varian had come to ask for his favour from Hugo- the blond couldn’t help but miss his company, to be honest. After the few hours they’d spent together, Hugo found himself to be a little enamoured. Hugo’s had dealt with every thrill seeker in the book, those who came to his cabin demanding fame, or glory, or riches, but he’d yet to encounter someone who had been so willing to make the dangerous walk to Hugo’s home for the sake of a family member. Varian had asked his name before asking for his help, had commented that it was sad that no one visited him. He’d been… genuine. Nice. Treated Hugo’s skills like they were less something to be demanded, and more like a gift to be asked for. He had been sweet, and it made something in Hugo bitter.

It was a lonely life, out in the woods, but a peaceful one. Hugo was willing to live alone if it meant he was mostly left to his own devices, though times like when Varian had arrived, he couldn’t help but feel the sting of the isolation creeping in. Perhaps that was why he’d asked for the kiss, though now Hugo felt rather stupid about it. What else could he have asked from Varian? Something more useful for sure. Supplies, food, anything really to save him a walk. But instead his stupid brain had seen a pretty boy and gone totally blank. Hugo can’t help but be a little concerned at that- if he started giving things out for free, he’d surely be in trouble when winter rolled around.

Oliva squeaked again, this time something that sounded concerned. Hugo looked up from his plot of dirt to see her rush over to him, the little mouse scrambling up his shirt to perch on his shoulder. He looked up to where she had come from, seeing a familiar figure standing on the edge of the grove.

“Hi, Hugo!” Varian said with a grin, holding up a small basket. “I was wondering if you wanted some company?”

Hugo… short circuits. “What?” He asks dumbly as Varian walks towards him. The shorter man pauses at the gate, his face asking to be let in. Hugo nods, still stunned as Varian- Varian had come back????- lets himself in and strides over to Hugo with a smile.

“Well, you said no one ever came to visit.” Varian said softly, “So I thought I’d change that.”

“You… don’t want anything?” Hugo asks, struck stupid.

“Well, I mean, I want to talk to you.” Varian flushes, biting at his lip. “And I wanted to thank you. And so does my dad! He helped me make this for you.” Varian shoves the basket at Hugo with a sudden motion, as if embarrassed to have it now that he’s dragged it all the way here.

“He’s doing better, then?” Hugo says, taking the basket without thinking. It’s got some weight to it. A peek under the lid shows about four loaves of fresh bread, tucked away and kept good by a thick towel.

“Much, thank you.” Varian says earnestly, “He was up and walking the day after I came to see you.”

“That’s good.” Hugo muses, lost in thought. No one had ever come back to see him after they’d gotten their wish, let alone to thank him and bring him another gift.

Varian nods with a smile, one that’s bright and happier than the one he’d worn before. Hugo likes it on him. “It’s fantastic.” He breathes, “I owe you more than you could ever know.”

“Nah, we’re even.” Hugo says, flushing at the memory of Varian’s lips on his. “Your debt’s been paid.”

“Oh,” Varian says, looking sideways. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure you don’t want to- uh. Again. Never mind.”

Oh.

“Hm.” Hugo muses, catching on quick, “Actually, you know, I think something went wrong the first time.”

Varian perks up at that, looking to Hugo with a small grin. “Oh?” He asks, “Should we- maybe…”

“Sorry, goggles.” Hugo shrugs, leaning forwards, “Looks like we’ll need a second payment.”

“Aw, shucks.” Varian rolls his eyes, leaning forwards with a smirk, “Whatever am I going to do?”

“Eh, we’ll figure it out. Put you on a repayment plan.” Hugo grins, teasing for just a second more before Varian grabs him by the collar and drags Hugo down into a fiery kiss, their smiles melding together in the quiet of the grove. When they split for air, Varian smiles.

“I can live with that,” He says, and Hugo can feel the grin splitting his face as he leans back down.

Their third kiss is the best one yet.

#varigo #varian #tangled the series #tts #fic #varigo appreciation week #BLESS THIS WEEK IM LIVING

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potatotrash0 · 4 years

Text

neptune (hold me close)

“As his luck would have it, he looks up just in time to see Hinata and Nanami lean into each other and share a kiss as the rest of the attendees cheer.

He can almost feel the amount of hope radiating from the scene, and it makes Nagito want to vomit when he realizes the only thing filling his veins is despair.”

—

Nagito is invited to Hajime and Chiaki’s wedding, but he can’t quite seem to enjoy it past his own pining.

Rating: T for like. one swear. Warnings: none, maybe nagito’s self-deprecation Word Count: ~2700 Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Also on AO3 under the same user.

It isn’t so bad at first.

It’s easy to focus on the decorations and chatter of the rest of the guests. To distract himself with Souda’s endless rambling and Kamukura’s interjections, not quite as scathing as usual.

The floral arrangements are beautiful, he notes with a small smile, not overwhelmingly colorful but still striking. Everything is subtle, perfectly suited to Hinata and Nanami’s more subdued personalities.

It’s when they begin the ceremony that Nagito starts feeling his stomach twist, trying and most likely failing to keep his feelings in his chest.

His fingers twitch slightly as they rest on this thighs, his eyes trained forward. He knows Kamukura’s gaze is fixated on him, no doubt picking up on the unease in his too-straight posture. He doesn’t say anything though, and for that, Nagito is immensely grateful.

He feels a feeling of contempt for himself rise in his throat as the pianist begins playing. How disgusting, he thinks. He has the honor and privilege of attending one of the most important events of Hinata’s life, and all he can feel is resentment? Truly, absolutely revolting of him.

He still can’t manage a single drop of joy as he turns his head to watch Nanami walk down the aisle. She looks gorgeous, the pink and white dress complimenting her so well. A glance at Hinata shows that he’s stunned, and even from where Nagito is sitting, he can clearly see Hinata’s bright red flush.

Standing next to each other, Nagito can’t deny that they look perfect together. Like a match made in heaven. It’s a real shame all he can think of is being in Nanami’s place, he muses darkly.

He barely registers the pair’s vows, his mind going wild with so many things at once.

He imagines being able to get a first-row seat to Hinata’s blushing and stuttering, being the one to slip a ring onto the brunette. Being able to pull him close, have a reason to look into his eyes, and kiss him.

The thought almost makes him laugh. As if he, as the lowly, unfathomably pathetic piece of garbage that he is, would ever be worthy enough to even breathe the same air as Hinata, let alone marry him.

As his luck would have it, he looks up just in time to see Hinata and Nanami lean into each other and share a kiss as the rest of the attendees cheer. He can almost feel the amount of hope radiating from the scene, and it makes Nagito want to vomit when he realizes the only thing filling his veins is despair.

Once again, he feels Kamukura’s eyes on him, and when he glances over, Kamukura has an expression like he’s picking Nagito apart.

“You’re unhappy,” he points out, acting it’s like a fact, his red eyes burning holes into Nagito as he speaks.

Nagito laughs mirthlessly, every fiber of his being knowing how true that statement is and wanting desperately to just leave already. “Was I that obvious?”

Kamukura doesn’t respond, but Nagito can see just the smallest flicker of concern in his unblinking eyes.

Nagito shakes his head, letting his head hang as his hair falls into his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Please, don’t worry about me. This is a special day for Hinata-kun and Nanami-san, I would hate to ruin it with my selfish wishes.”

Kamukura seems to want to press further, if the firm press of his lips is anything to go by, but his eyes soften as he looks at Nagito’s face. He must look especially pitiful.

Souda is the first to jump up and run to Hinata and Nanami, everyone else quick to follow. Kamukura lags behind, glancing back at Nagito with a frown before turning away again.

Nagito can feel his body begin to shake, his vision blurring at the edges, and he jumps up with perhaps too much energy. He bumps into someone as he almost runs away, he thinks it’s Kuzuryuu from the small stature and glimpse of short, blond hair, and mutters an apology without looking back. He knows it’s suspicious, but he reasons that it’s surely not the most concerning thing he’s done.

Blindly, he stumbles to the bathroom, slamming the door too loudly behind him. The room is quiet, and the only sound in his ears is his own breathing and heartbeat.

He manages to make it three seconds before his eyes overflow and his legs decide it’s a great time to give out.

He slides down the door, shaking violently. He suddenly can’t breathe, his gasps for air too loud when he’s so close to the door, and every single one of his brain cells screams at him to shut up before someone hears him.

But even as he slaps both hands over his mouth in a weak attempt to keep quiet, his sobs escape out into the tiled room like his hands are made of air.

“Pathetic,” he laughs, his hands coming up and pulling at his hair as his head bangs against the door. “Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.” His voice cracks as he repeats it to himself.

What would Hinata think of him, knowing he’s not even grateful to have been invited to the Ultimate Hope’s wedding? It must have taken so much effort to spend time with a worthless waste of space such as himself, but Hinata still did it.

And for what, so Nagito could dare cry and despair because Hinata didn’t force himself to deal with Nagito even more than he already did?

Disgusting. He truly was an ungrateful, undeserving piece of shit.

He’s startled by a knock on the door.

A familiar voice follows the sound. “Hey, Komaeda, you in there?”

Nagito’s breath hitches in his throat.

Hinata.

He can’t decide if this is good or bad luck.

Maybe if he doesn’t answer, Hinata will go away? It’s a desperate grab, but surely he wouldn’t stand there forever.

Yes, he thinks, shoving down the sob that wants to come out and biting his tongue. Hinata is kind, too kind, but he doesn’t have an infinite supply of patience. He’s bound to leave at some point.

Another knock. “Komaeda, I thought I heard you crying in here. You okay?”

He wipes at the tears on his cheeks, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to stop them from flowing further. He feels horrible for ignoring Hinata, but it would only disturb him to see Nagito in such a deplorable state. He doesn’t deserve that, not on his wedding day.

Hinata’s knock is more forceful now. “Come on, you’re worrying me.”

Nagito’s eyes widen, and he almost loses his grasp on his filter. Half of him wants to persist with his silence, but the other half itches to protest Hinata’s misplaced concern.

He can hear Hinata’s sigh from through the door. He doesn’t knock this time, but he does continue attempting to coax Nagito out of hiding. “Komaeda, what’s wrong?”

Nagito smiles bitterly. Hinata says he’s mean, an ‘asshole’ in his words, but then he turns around and pulls stunts like this. He always insists Nagito doesn’t give himself enough credit but never says anything about underselling his own benevolence.

“I’m serious here, Komaeda. Kamukura told me you were upset about something, and Kuzuryuu said you ran off in a hurry. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

Ah. So Kamukura sold him out.

Nagito sighs and untangles his hands from his hair, not missing how several strands come away on his palms. He interrupts when Hinata speaks next.

“Komaeda—“

“If I may ask, Hinata-kun, what did Kamukura-kun say?”

Hinata is silent for a moment before he responds. His tone suggests he’s surprised, most likely because he didn’t expect a reply from Nagito. “Uh...not much. He said he couldn’t tell me much more besides the fact that you were upset about something.”

Nagito nods, his face blank. He pulls his legs to his chest, resting his arms on his knees. He glances at the door when Hinata speaks again.

“Are you okay? Can you at least open the door?”

Nagito barely considers the request before shooting it down, shaking his head even though he knows Hinata can’t see him.

“You would only be disgusted. I look even more unsightly than usual,” he says with a quiet laugh. He hasn’t looked in the mirror, but he already knows it’s true.

Hinata replies instantly, almost forcefully. “That’s bullshit.”

Nagito blinks and stares at the door like he might be able to see Hinata past the wood.

He can hear a loud, sharp sound, suspiciously similar to a wince. “I-I mean, you don’t—! It...it can’t be that bad, right? I don’t think you’re actually as...um.”

Hinata doesn’t continue that sentence, and a small part of Nagito really wants him to, but he forces himself to shake off the thought and stand up to open the door.

Hinata’s facial expression seems to lighten up for a split second when he sees Nagito, before he sharply sucks in a breath and doesn’t exhale.

Of course. Nagito smiles, not quite looking Hinata in the eyes as he speaks. “Ah. I suppose I was right to assume I looked like repulsive.”

Hinata seems to panic, for some reason unknown to Nagito. “What? N-No, no, you’re fine, I’m just. Uh. Surprised?” Nagito almost laughs at the instant grimace that lines Hinata’s face afterwards.

Nagito leans against the doorframe as he watches Hinata take a deep breath before speaking again.

“Um...you were crying, weren't you?” Hinata seems hesitant, like he’s afraid of offending Nagito or something.

Nagito’s eyebrows furrow as he responds, looking down at Hinata properly. “You don’t have to worry about me, Hinata-kun. It was selfish to make you leave your own wedding reception to check on me of all people.”

“What? Komaeda, no, I wanted to see if you were okay. You didn’t answer my question, by the way,” Hinata says, a familiar expression on his face that Nagito knows means Hinata is irritated.

Nagito stays silent for a moment before answering quietly. “Yes. It’s nothing too important.”

Hinata pinches the bridge of his nose and grumbles, “If you’re running off in tears right after the ceremony, I think it’s pretty damn important.”

He stares at Nagito for a moment before an exasperated, knowing look crosses his face, and his arms cross against his chest. “You’re not gonna talk about it, huh?”

Nagito attempts to resist the urge to smile. “I’m rather easy to read today, aren’t I?”

Hinata sighs heavily. “Fine. But we’re discussing this at some point, alright?”

Nagito hesitates, but he knows from experience that Hinata will probably insist on it whether he likes it or not. He nods without a word.

Hinata seems to be satisfied with that, his expression relaxing as he turns on his heel to, presumably, make his way back to the reception. “Come on. Souda and the other guys will be glad to see you’re alright.”

Nagito follows along a few steps behind, biting the inside of his lip. ‘The guys? Does that mean...Hinata wasn’t the only one concerned?’

“Komaeda, I can practically hear you chewing yourself out.” Hinata doesn’t sound impressed.

He stops walking and turns to Nagito, putting his hands on his shoulders. He speaks gently this time.

“You might think you’re a burden, but people do genuinely care about you, Nagito.” Hinata makes it a point to look him in the eyes as he says this. “I think even Kuzuryuu would agree when I say that you’re too hard on yourself.”

With what might be the warmest smile Nagito’s ever seen, Hinata continues softly, ”You’re not as horrible as you think you are, Komaeda.”

Nagito can’t bring himself to look away from Hinata, as much as he wants to. When he croaks out his next sentence, he finds himself dangerously close to tears again.

“Hinata-kun...you’re too kind. I don’t deserve this much compassion.” His voice cracks on that last word, his eyes slipping shut as he begins to shake again.

Hinata’s hands loosen their grip the slightest bit, and Nagito takes the chance to stagger back, wrapping his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to try and make himself smaller.

“I-I’m,” Nagito gasps, trying to talk past the new round of sobs threatening to come tumbling out, “I’m sorry, Hinata-kun. You shouldn’t—!”

Hinata is quick to step forward, tugging Nagito into his arms like he isn’t crying hysterically. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” he says softly into Nagito’s ear, arms wrapped around his waist.

Nagito tenses up, trembling as he hiccups. Hinata manages to pull him closer still, and that’s really all it takes for Nagito to start bawling even harder.

His arms wind themselves around Hinata’s neck, and he feels awful for ruining Hinata’s suit, but when he tries to apologize, all he gets is a gentle shush.

Hinata’s hand rubs circles on Nagito’s back, and he really can’t understand why Hinata refuses to accept that he’s simply too kind when he does things like this on days where it’s supposed to be about him.

At some point or another, Nagito had sunk to the floor, he realizes when his eyes begin to dry. He looks to Hinata with a slight panic, but Hinata doesn’t seem to care. Rather, he smiles, and Nagito feels so close to crying again, but he stops himself as Hinata speaks.

“You alright?” Hinata says, not quite a whisper, but not as loud as he would normally speak.

Nagito wants to answer, but he doesn’t trust his voice, so he settles for a mute nod.

“You’re okay to head back to the reception?” Hinata asks, in that same soft tone that he keeps using, and that makes Nagito ache with how head over heels in love he is.

Nagito nods again mindlessly, not wanting to keep Hinata any longer than he already has, but in hindsight, he probably should have known Hinata would realize something was wrong.

Hinata presses his lips together, before releasing his hold on Nagito’s waist. Nagito mourns the loss before his breath catches in his throat for the thousandth time that day as Hinata’s hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Hinata raises an eyebrow at him, the small smirk on his face mildly distracting. “You really think I’m not gonna notice you trying to lie again? After I just caught you crying twice in a row?”

Nagito blinks, brain buffering for a moment before he chuckles. “That’s...I suppose I’m not a very good liar in the first place.”

Hinata’s smile widens a fraction, before dropping. “But really. I won’t stop you from leaving if you really want to.”

Nagito opens his mouth to reply, but something makes him pause. He should be honest with this, he decides, but he doesn’t really know if he could handle seeing Nanami without feeling horribly guilty.

“No one will be mad or upset with you if that’s what you’re worried about. Chiaki was probably the most concerned besides me and Kamukura, she almost came with me to check on you,” Hinata says, a knowing tone to his voice.

Nagito sniffles and his human arm drifts up, his fingers lightly brushing Hinata’s hand. Even when he whispers, his voice is shaky, “Nanami-san...Kamukura-kun...Hinata-kun. Everyone is so kind. I don’t...I’m really not worth this much concern.”

Hinata sighs, but a smile that borders on fond plays on his lips, if he dared label it so. “Komaeda, how many times am I going to have to tell you? I—we care about you more than you think.”

Nagito swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “Yes,” he blurts out. “I-I can handle being at the reception, I think.”

Hinata’s grin is so bright, so sudden, and so pretty, Komaeda really thinks he might finally keel over, to be having such amazing luck. ”Perfect.”

---

Izuru kicked Hinata’s leg, staring at him. Hinata flinched, muttering a quiet ‘ow,’ and glared at him.

“What was that for?”

“Please tell me you’re not going to keep tip-toeing around each other like this.”

“W-What the hell—“

“Hinata.”

“...I mean, I’ll tell him at some point! Like, I don’t know, when I know I’m not gonna be shot down...”

Izuru sighed and let his head bang gently on the table. He and Nanami might actually have to intervene to get these idiots together in this lifetime.

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pidayforpi · 4 years

Text

Alistair Boorswan walked down the street, past the lamp posts, avoiding illuminated areas.

Beak’s down. Hands in pockets.

Everyone knew him. Everyone knew he’s having a bad day. Everyone knew why he’s having a bad day.

It’s all on the news: The famous film director experienced his first project cancellation.

He who once walked proudly under the limelight, he who once strode with his head up...Gone in a single day, in a single fire.

He’s the first to make a reboot of the legendary Darkwing Duck. Now he’s the first to have the egg broken before it hatched.

To make it worse, he’s the first to ever seek funding from McDuck Enterprises. Now he’s the first to be refused sequential funding from Scrooge McDuck himself.

To make it even worse, he’s the first to allow a child to lead a film production. Now he’s the first to have his film production destroyed by a child.

Once the reigning king in the sector, now a joke in the industry.

If it wasn’t for the “mask” around his eyes, everyone could see the swan had been crying himself to sleep every night since.

Alistair pushed open the café door, the motion ringing the bell hanging from the door frame. It was awfully quiet in the café. Nice. Alistair didn’t want more attention. He’d had enough fun talking to the paparazzis.

“The usual?” Asked the barista. The owl behind the counters questioned his patron as he put away his book.

Alistair nodded. “No decaf this time, Franklin.”

The owl barista signed. “You ain’t gonna be up next morning, sonny. Don’t be a night owl like me.”

“Day and night seem the same to me, anyway.” Alistair said as he picked his usual seat: Next to the glass wall, observing the streets. “I would rather stay up all night and sleep all day. I don’t have to deal with anyone this way.”

Even without looking at his face, Franklin could see his customer’s devastated expression. Shrugging, the barista started brewing Alistair’s favourite espresso.

“Whatever suits you, buddy.”

———————————————————————————————

The bell rang again as the coffee machine rumbled.

Franklin raised an eyebrow as he fixed the beverage, but didn’t look back. If someone wanted him dead, he would be dead no matter he noticed or not.

Alistair also didn’t notice. His eyes were so fixated on the street at night, his ears so focused on the sounds of the city, he didn’t realise he was no longer the only customer in the shop.

Let alone that customer was someone he didn’t want to meet.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

No response. Except for the sound of something metallic being dragged against the wooden floor.

It wasn’t the first time someone weird entered the shop. The shopkeeper had seen it all. But from the reflection on the silver coffee machine, the late night customer was someone he knew. Someone everybody knew.  The duck sat in front of Alistair, dropping his huge chainsaw onto the floor with a thud. It was half the height of the duck, not to mention its spiked tip was stained with blood. The intruder took off his oversized fedora, and tossed it to his side. His feathers were ruffled and unkempt, as if he had just been in a fight. An odour of pungent sewage water could be smelled from his body. A crazed, blue-green colour could be seen from his double-layered irises. If it wasn’t late at night (and the blood-stained chainsaw), Franklin would had kindly asked him to leave the shop.

It wasn’t until the duck placed his order that Alistair noticed his new, unwanted coffee mate.

“A cup of cappuccino, boss.” Ordered the customer in his hoarse, sickly voice.

Franklin replied with a nod, hands still focused on fixing his last order.

“Roger, Mister Starling.”

Alistair snapped out of his ponder when he heard the name he had feared for a month.

He shifted his focused from the streets to the pale reflection on the glass window.

He’s right there.

Just when he thought fate had taken everything away from him, someone’s there to take his life as well.

Alistair felt his body move on its own, standing up and reaching for the exit. It was almost like a reflex arc. He didn’t have to know for sure the danger in front of him. He’s making a run subconsciously.

Of course, his unwanted guest wouldn’t let the host leave before being at least greeted.

“Sit down, swan.”

With just a command, Alistair was frozen in place. The chainsaw was not even touched, yet he obeyed the order as if his legs were being amputated.

He instinctively looked at his opponent, and he regretted that very moment. When his frightened eyes met the killer’s powerful gaze, the calendar on the wall shifted back to a month ago.

In a burning studio, a wide-eyed Alistair stared at the charged cannon. When it fired, he would be a goner. He knew the “props” cannons were real - He saw the kid ordered them, directly from the laboratory. Those particles weren’t just special effects. They were real, lethal electricity. One shot, and his fast beating heart would stop. It truly was a miracle Drake Mallard survived the attacks.

Alistair had never been more scared in his life. Nowhere to escape in the fire. Nowhere to hide in the rubbles. Running away was futile: There’s no way he could outrun a lightning bolt. He ruined Jim’s career, and Jim was going to ruin his life.

“Jim Starling never cuts!” was what Alistair heard when he rushed to the recording camera. Yes. The legendary actor never allowed any failure. Not by himself. Not by others.

Jim failed to eliminate him the first time, he’s probably finishing the job now.

Franklin took a peek at his back to ensure his patron’s head was still on his neck, and hurried with both orders. The only thing he could do to avoid a murder was to facilitate the conversation between the two artists.

On the other hand, Alistair sat down meekly, hands on his laps, legs hanging straight down. Opposite of him, Jim got himself comfortable on the chair as if on a throne: One hand on the table, another supporting his tilted head. He sat cross-legged, his right leg hanging lazily on his left one. The only thing left to complete his criminal mastermind persona was his signature grin, which showed his sharp, menacing fangs.

But Jim right now was wearing a frown instead.

Alistair wasn’t more comfortable, though. He started fidgeting his fingers, his hand movements speeding up for each second Jim remained silent.

It didn’t take long for the awkward silence to break, thankfully.

“An espresso for you, and a cappuccino for you, good sirs. Enjoy.”

Franklin emerged from behind his counter, delivering the beverages to the two fowls. After his last orders for the night were complete, he returned to his reading, yet keeping an eye on his clients.

Rich aroma soon filled the seats. Jim was the first to take a sip at his cappuccino. Foam covered the tip of his beak when he put down the cup. Alistair dared not to mention it, let alone laugh at it, no matter how silly it looked. He used to be a smug person, saying out what was in his heart without filter. But not when his life was at stake.

Alistair didn’t touch his beverage for half a minute. His hands were still holding themselves tight, his eyes fixated on the duck in front of him.

“Drink it, don’t be shy.” Jim reminded (or ordered, in Alistair’s ears). “I ain’t paying for your cup.” Followed by another sip of his cappuccino.

Alistair slowly held out his shaking hand, putting a finger through the middle of the cup handle, pulled his drink closer to himself and paused. However fragrant the coffee was, Alistair couldn’t afford to let himself get blinded. God knows if he put down the mug after a sip, a chainsaw wouldn’t appear at his neck?

He predicted Jim would be impatient with his hesitation and yell at him. But he was just taking his time, waiting for his partner to get comfortable.

Eventually, Alistair pulled the mug close to his beak, and drank. A rather large portion of his espresso, mainly because he didn’t want to put down the mug. He wouldn’t want to know how he would die.

But he felt no pain. No sensation at all, except for the scalding hotness in his throat...

Alistair literally spat out the liquid back into the mug, choking and holding his burnt throat in pain. Jim, on the other hand, burst into laughter, holding his abdomen while laughing loudly in his dry voice. Hearing his mockery, another hot feeling emerged from his cheeks and ears, which were red with embarrassment.

If a passerby saw that scene, they would probably think it was a carefree reunion of two old friends.

Jim grabbed a glass of iced water from the counter, which Franklin had already prepared after seeing Alistair about to drain the freshly-brewed, steaming hot coffee. Jim pushed the glass of water towards Alistair, who immediately gulped down the whole glass and laid back in relief.

Alistair really did let his guard down for a moment, before again realising who was in front of him when the person spoke.

“Feeling better, Alistair?” Jim tried to comfort, showing a kind smile. No one called Alistair by his first name, not even Jim when they first met. Always “Mr Boorswan” or “Director Boorswan”. Alistair looked up and into those eyes, this time in confusion instead of fear.

“W-what do you...want from me?” Alistair finally spoke. “If you want my life, just...d-drag me out into a dark alley and chop off my head. No need for crocodile tears.”

Alistair lowered his voice, visibly sulking. “You know I can’t defend myself...I won’t defend myself.”

It was Jim’s turn to stay silent.

“I know why you are here. I ruined your only comeback chance. I let that brat destroy the movie. I couldn’t get that geezer to support the production. I...didn’t cast you as the main character. Your main character.” Alistair continued, each sentence making him remember what happened just a month ago.

“So you are here to take revenge on me. This classy British director who knows nothing about children’s TV shows. Who only loves disgusting, gritty psychological thrillers. Who...”

Alistair paused. Then again, Jim probably already knew the truth.

“...who broke his own neck, ruining his own career, dethroning himself from his own industry.”

He felt his heart getting sour. He was just a centimetre from crying.

“I have nothing more to lose.”

“If you want me dead, just do it. No one will be sad for me. I’m just everyone’s laughing stock now.”

He could feel the black feathers around his eyes got wet. The street lights outside the window blurred.

Jim let go of his cup, looking down at his feet. If it wasn’t for the tears, Alistair could see Jim’s eyes were filled with sadness as well.

“Forgiveness.”

Jim uttered.

“I want your forgiveness.”

——————————————————————————————

The store returned to silence, the rumbling of vehicles could be faintly heard across the window.

Franklin took advantage of the silence to interrupt.

“Want me to leave, misters?”

“No, it’s fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Jim replied to the barista. If Franklin left, Alistair probably wouldn’t want to be alone with Jim.

Franklin nodded, before focusing himself into reading again, silently listening to the conversation of the two.

Jim turned to face the surprised swan.

“I’m here to apologise, Alistair.”

Of all things, apologising was not one of the reasons Alistair thought Jim was here for him.

“You aren’t the one to ruin the movie. I am.”

Jim put down his originally crossed legs, both hands on the table.

“I was selfish, arrogant, rude...I thought I was and would be the only Darkwing in the world. The one and only Darkwing...the hero on the TV screen in the past, the memory in the heart of those then children in the present.”

“When I knew Darkwing was about to return - from a child, no less - I was excited. Too excited. I was blinded by past fame and former glory, that the excitement channelled into wrath when I knew I was being ‘replaced’. In fact, there wasn’t a thing called ‘replaced’. Darkwing Duck is a character. Anyone can play him. Just because I was the first to have the honour doesn’t mean I have to be the only one. I was just being a grumpy old man on the outside, a spoiled brat in the inside.”

Jim looked up from the table to meet Alistair’s blue eyes, making a sad, regretful smile.

“Not to mention that was your movie in the first place. Your artwork. You have the choice to let anyone past on and receive the torch. You have the right to make Darkwing the person you imagine to be. I should have just stayed in the auditorium and cheered for you.”

“An artist’s integrity really is sacred and inviolable, eh?”

Jim quoted the motto Alistair had lived by, the motto that had brought him to the top of the industry, that had given him the fame he once had.

“I shouldn’t have acted on my own. I shouldn’t have barged into the studio. Hell, I shouldn’t even have met you in the office the first day. You would have done better if you didn’t have me in your life.”

Alistair had been blinking rapidly to hold back tears, but now it was too much for him to bear. Alistair never thought that Jim would say sorry to him. Alistair never expected anyone would say sorry to him. But now, it’s as if someone was there to take the blame with him, standing up for him in front of the crowd. Someone was there to share the pain. Someone was there to be with him.

“I’m sorry, Alistair.”

Jim could see the swan sniffing and whimpering, his eyes twinkling with tears. Just after he said his apology, Alistair burst into tears. Teardrops ran from his mask to his cheeks, dropping onto the now warm espresso. Wails echoed throughout the coffee shop, cries filled the café. Alistair wiped the tears with his purple scarf, but a long accumulated cumulus would had to rain for a while.

Jim moved to the opposite bench, and gave the weeping swan a hug. Jim never knew how to comfort someone - He never would nor had to. Awkward it might be, he really wanted to do something for Alistair.

Surprisingly, Alistair hugged back. He couldn’t care more, whether the duck had any plans in mind, or just wanted to literally stab him in the back. He had been crying alone for so many nights, it felt like a blessing to have someone willing to lend a hand.

At least for one night, Alistair wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep.

———————————————————————————————

“Okay, I’m good now.”

Alistair sniffed and rubbed his eyes one last time, before gently pushing Jim away. Jim pulled his cup from across the table, and pushed Alistair’s mug towards him. He emptied half of the cup in a single gulp, before returning to his rude self.

Alistair looked at the his mug, seeing his reflection on the liquid surface. He looked even more pathetic after crying, but his heart felt lighter.

Just when he was about to finish his drink, a strong, choking smell replaced the coffee aroma, making Alistair scrunched his face up.

Jim put down his cup to see Alistair staring at him while holding his nose. He stared back with a puzzled expression. “What? Coffee’s gone sour?”

Alistair shook his head, still holding his nose and breath. He pointed at the filthy duck in front of him with his other hand, and managed to whisper without using up much air. “You...stink.”

Jim blinked for a few seconds, and sniffed his body like a stray dog. He then retaliated, shrugging. “Then are you lending me your cologne, pretty boy? It doesn’t seem like you have used it for a month, anyway.”

“And your hair.” Jim continued, pointing at the swan’s supposedly groomed hair. “You look even worse than that Dorkwing boy. Don’t tell me the greatest director of all time can’t even afford a comb?”

“You were saying?” Alistair pointed back at the duck’s feathered whiskers. “You look like you haven’t taken a shower in a month. Don’t tell me the mightiest crime lord of all time can’t even afford a bath?”

Jim sat back, arms crossed. “Yes, I haven’t. Deal with it. It doesn’t seem like you have, either.”

“I...” Alistair paused mid-sentence, not wanting to admit the fact that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. It had been a month, and he already looked as though he was stranded on a deserted island for a year.

Jim sighed, putting a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Listen, you are one of the most talented persons I have met. From the papers to the TV, I have learnt a lot about you. Even my team knows you, Alistair! Some people may mock you for your failure, but many more are sad about it.”

Alistair looked up from the ground, turning to face Jim’s warm smile.

“A lot of people desperately waited for ‘Darkwing: First Darkness’, and despaired when it got cancelled. After all, who wouldn’t like a childhood reminiscence, brought to them by the one and only Alistair Boorswan? You don’t know how many people are sorry for you, how many people are cheering you on, waiting for you to come back.”

“McDuck won’t fund the movie? Glomgold and Waddles will! One wants to beat McDuck, while the other wants to get onto the red carpet. Find that Mallard kid - He is more than willing to cosplay. You’ve got the script done, the movie will be done in a jiffy. Make Darkwing a thing. Make your dream a thing. We are all artists, and artists got to do what they think is art.”

Jim picked up his fedora, rubbing its scratched brim edges. “I won’t be able to join you on set this time, but reserve a seat for me at the premiere. Five seats, to be exact. I’m sure my boys would beg to see it.”

The duck suddenly put his oversized hat onto Alistair’s head, covering his eyes. Alistair protested a bit, before struggling to get the accessory off. He held the worn-out fedora tightly with both hands, about to return it to its owner before being declined.

“Keep it. Consider it a parting gift. For now, at least. We will surely meet again, Alistair.” Jim winked at the swan, who put on the hat after a nod.

“Before then, don’t go dying, m’kay? I’m waiting to kidnap you at the prize-giving ceremony, so don’t prepare too long a speech. Alright?” Jim held out his cup towards Alistair, signalling a “cheers”.

Alistair took a silent deep breath to suppress his surging emotions, and held out his own mug, bumping the duck’s cup.

“Alright. I promise.”

———————————————————————————————

“They’re on the house, celebs.”

Franklin confirmed when Alistair was about to take out his wallet.

“That’s for your patronage.” The owl barista motioned to Alistair with his book, and then shifted to Jim. “And that’s for not making my shop a crime scene.”

Jim snickered, and picked up his chainsaw from the floor. “Thanks, boss.”

“Thank you, pal.” Alistair smiled at Franklin, waving goodbye with his new red fedora before being stopped.

“One thing in return, director.” Alistair looked over his shoulder to face his old friend.

“Make that six seats, capiche?”

———————————————————

(I don’t really have much to say but I want to say something)

-I lost track of when I started writing this. I finished it on July 7, and coincidentally, the local TV broadcasted “The Duck Knight Returns!” (DT17 S02E16) on July 5.

-Also I couldn’t think of an interesting title.

-I really want to see more of Alistair Boorswan (or at least, Jim Starling, please?) in Season 3. I really like Alistair he’s so cute okay?

-sorry edgar wright

(I blame @sheepmouse for my sudden surge of interest in Alistair Boorswan/Jim Starling.)

#alistair boorswan #jim starling #negaduck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #the duck knight returns #story #short story #storyteller

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bylerchoseme · 4 years

Text

Anna’s love for Elsa (An in depth analysis)

The Next Right Thing was specifically written for Anna to show the audience the intensity of Anna’s love for Elsa. The truth of the matter is there is only darkness for Anna when Elsa isn’t a part of her life. We saw her fall into depression because her star supposedly died. She was ready to surrender herself. There is no life for Anna without Elsa. This bothers people.

Anna being in love with Elsa and wanting to follow her everywhere she goes doesn’t make her Co-Dependent. She needs to be with the love of her life. Co-Dependent is a label used by people that want to avoid the Elsanna ship or don’t want to admit the truth behind why Anna is acting this way. The term is overused and repeated many times. It would be out of character for Anna to leave Elsa alone when she feels something beyond sisterly feelings.

As difficult as it may be for some people to grasp, Anna is coded as being in love with Elsa. If you want to see it, it’s there in front of you. If you don’t want to see it, it’s still there regardless. Her story is being told in a very blatant way. A lot of people are questioning things between Anna and Elsa (more than ever before) and I will respect the integrity of these people by not making their comments public.

For a sisterly dynamic, boundaries need to be met. Anna and Elsa have no filter especially Anna. Disney didn’t even try to hide anything either. Their comment about not listening to fans demands and writing the story they want to tell ties into this too. Over the years Elsanna became very popular and people complained about shipping two sisters. They could have been written lightly in the second film to not give fans more reasons to love Anna and Elsa together romantically. However, the opposite happened.

In Frozen 2, Anna found reasons to touch Elsa. Some Things Never Change is at the beginning of the movie. Anna and Elsa were holding hands shortly during this song and at the end Anna pulled Elsa in for a tight hug. It’s the how she does it that gets to me. She extends her hand like a partner would and looked at her in a particular way. She didn’t hesitate waiting one second before bringing her closer. They appeared to be in a relationship.

Call me crazy but every new scene Anna shared with Elsa further validated how deeply, truly, and irrevocably Anna was in love with Elsa. I’ve never seen a character so willing to go to such lengths for someone and not giving it second thought. Anna teaches us about patience, loyalty, trust, certainty, and determination. She is something else. She is the first character I came across that became a game changer.

The only consistency in all of Frozen is Anna’s love for Elsa. Anna has never (not once) second guessed herself when it came to Elsa. Her feelings for Elsa didn’t change before, during, and after the six years. Elsa was a constant in her life. The writers didn’t ruin this part of Frozen. When we begin to consider everything, Anna hasn’t been out of character when it came to Elsa. She loved her then and now maybe even more.

I didn’t think it was possible for Anna to fall harder for Elsa. She proved me wrong. Her heart has unlimited love for Elsa on an unreachable level. I could even call it ‘the rarest of the rarest love.’ It means exactly as it sounds.Her love for Elsa is unstoppable. We’ve seen how far that love went.

Anna climbed the North mountain for Elsa. She froze for Elsa. She went into fire for Elsa. She did The Next Right Thing for Elsa. She jumped a cliff, put herself in danger with the trolls, and stood on the Dam as the stones were coming at her in memory of Elsa. I know this sounds a bit absurd but let me explain. She fought hard to not survive. She didn’t want to live. She wanted to die and forget her misery.

There isn’t anything Anna wouldn’t do for Elsa. She loves her more than humanely possible. To love someone so much is to love like you’ve never loved someone at all. Elsa is her first, only, and last love. She is absolutely crazy about her. I am not sure if Anna is aware of the degree of her love for Elsa. She doesn’t have to think about it.

Anna’s love for Elsa has been emphasized intensively in both films and the shorts. All of her actions, words, and tone of voice when she says certain words aren’t light. She doesn’t know how to be a sister. That’s not her fault. She wasn’t raised to be a sisterly figure to Elsa. She doesn’t want to be a sister to her even by choice.

A saying I came up with is “Sisters by chance, lovers by choice.” You don’t choose who to love. Love chooses you. It’s almost like Disney wanted reactions out of us in regards to Anna and Elsa to sell their original idea of romantic love interests. We saw right through them. The truth eventually comes out. They should have made Anna and Elsa friends.

Anna climbed the North Mountain for Elsa and they were strangers. She didn’t know anything about her and yet she was willing to fight for her no matter the outcome. How do you go so far for someone you barely even knew or know at the time? What was her motivation? Why did she do this? The answer is simple. I don’t even have to explain anything. Elsa was a mystery. Anna wanted to know that side of her because she wanted to be the first person to let her in while everyone else was scared.

Next thing you know... Anna froze for Elsa. The question about whether or not she knew she would die is somewhat subjective. I guess there is a part of her that didn’t care either way. The point is she gave her life. She died loving Elsa. I know some people like to say she would have eventually unfroze with or without Elsa’s love but the message is true love. A hug broke the spell and brought her back to life. She needed to feel Elsa’s love.

Following Elsa into fire went along the lines of “If you die, we die together.” There wasn’t another option. Anna experienced life and death situations for Elsa. The possibility of dying from fire exposure didn’t cross her mind when Elsa was in trouble. She wanted to save her even if she didn’t make it. Anna’s loyalty to Elsa is everlasting. She will go the distance for her no matter how far or life threatening.

The cliff jump was reckless. She didn’t have any ounce of guilt. She wanted to be where Elsa was and was determined to get there somehow. I watched this sequence a few times and noticed how little she paid attention to reaching the other side. If she didn’t make it, she didn’t make it. If she made it, she made it. Her mind was already dark. She was long gone.

Finally, the dam moment. That’s the final moment of Anna. I keep imagining the stones not missing and hitting her directly. Only when the dam was collapsing did she attempt to fight for her life but when you consider the proximity of the stones when the giants first started throwing them, she wanted to be hit. There wasn’t a response from her at all. That’s how little she cared about living. This is all as a result of Elsa presumed dead. Anna’s story arc was dark. We didn’t see her like this before because she had nothing to lose until she lost everything.

A small part of me wishes the writers followed through with Elsa’s death to show the full impact on Anna coping with the loss of her true love. The story would have changed drastically. I know this would have been too much for a children’s movie but death is inevitable. Elsa dying over the separation makes sense. I have a head-canon about Anna finding Elsa dead. I feel like Elsa should have been washed on shore from the sea and Anna seeing her lifeless body and as she held her singing her solo number. Now of course I don’t want Elsa dead which is why there would be a twist in the story-line.

Anna’s love for Elsa is permanent. If she were to stop loving Elsa, it would be a shock and character assassination. I can’t fathom Anna putting anyone above Elsa. That’s wishful thinking for some people. Whenever I think she could not love her more, she proves me wrong. Elsa gives Anna reasons to keep falling in love with her even though she hurts her. Love isn’t meant to be busy.

Find someone that loves you as much as Anna loves Elsa. To say that’s impossible would be an understatement of the year. No one except Anna is capable of loving a person in such a jaw dropping way. That’s why there are struggles in real life relationships. No ones love for another comes close to Anna’s love for Elsa. I’m not exaggerating. I mean it.

Elsa is very lucky to have Anna. No one can love her like Anna which is why Elsa being in a relationship with anyone else is unrealistic. They can’t give her what Anna does. She is all set. No one can come in between them. Elsa has to stay single.

Another part of me wonders if Anna was the one to die, how would Elsa deal with that? Imagine Anna breaking the dam to fulfill the last right thing and Elsa returning to her sister dead. Elsa learning Anna saved her but had to die in the process would be devastating. She would be faced with a dilemma. Neither deserves to suffer. However, I am imagining different possibilities.

Fate decided Anna had to fall in love with Elsa. Fate is always certain. Things happen for a reason. Anna and Elsa use the word sister or sis so loosely. Just because they say it doesn’t mean that’s how they feel. Actions speak louder than words. Words have to mean something. That’s why the sis and sister label doesn’t translate well.

Anna is usually the first one to initiate something with Elsa. She needs her touch. She needs her closeness. She needs to feel her. She needs it all. I can’t remember a time when Anna didn’t want to be in physical contact with Elsa. She would hold her forever if time were to freeze and let them be.

It takes determination to show up at Elsa’s closed door everyday for 13 years. Anna had hope they would one day come face to face. She tried everything she could to be a constant in Elsa’s life even though a door was blocking them. Love is a powerful force in the world. If you believe in love, anything is possible. She was dedicated. She didn’t leave Elsa behind.

One of the saddest moments is Anna’s last memory of Elsa before she died. She was angry with her. Little did Anna know that might’ve been the last time she saw Elsa alive. Somewhere along the way, Anna forgave her. Staying mad at her for too long isn’t in Anna’s personality. On the bright side...she was able to hug Elsa before her world crashed down.

Anna’s love for Elsa is immerse. She loves her wholeheartedly. She gives so much of her heart to Elsa. If only we could all feel the same love Elsa does whenever Anna does something for her or delivers a heartfelt speech. Fantasy overtook reality in the sense it’s our reality.

Anna’s love for Elsa may have ruined romance for me. In other words, Elsanna is the summary of my relationship. Watching Anna love Elsa makes me not want a romantic partner in real life because it won’t measure up to that. She raised the bar of how a person should be loved.

Elsa ruined Anna for other people. The struggles of being related to Elsa must be complicated for Anna or are they of the same blood? Unless you’re Elsa, the chances of having a successful future with Anna decreases the odds. Is there anyone more compatible for Anna than Elsa? No. They can relate to each other. They have history.

To sum up Anna’s love for Elsa......Frozen 2 was a love letter indeed. It was a love letter because Anna couldn’t deny her love for Elsa. Rather than a typical love letter, it was a love letter come to life. Anna was living in her love for her true love. True love is a constant reminder for Anna and Elsa. Anna should have sang this phrase “Some things stay the same like the love that I feel for her.” This is Anna’s story.

#elsanna #elsa and anna #frozen 2 #frozen

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!—such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

********

Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

#frankenstein #Frankenstein's Monster #monster x reader #the creature x reader #monster x human #my writing #much shorter update I hope it doesn't feel rushed? I wrote it surprisingly quickly #everything starts happening really fast now

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azure-steel · 3 years

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@mercyxkilling said: mercy drew in a breath, steeling herself for the impending confrontation that awaited her once she crossed that threshold. she’d gotten into a fairly heated argument with cloud while they were on their last assignment and she probably... no, she KNEW she could have handled it better. but being emotionally inarticulate rendered her incapable of having a constructive conversation as opposed to a screaming match.

but she needed to repair this. they couldn’t continue to work together if things felt so off. so with that she stepped into the mess hall and sashayed across the room to his table, but before she spoke the woman turned to give a few of the crew sitting nearby a sharp look as she cleared her throat. they needed no more than that, recognizing this as a signal to get the fuck outta dodge.

once they were gone she seated herself not in a nearby chair but on the table. mercy maintained a bit of distance between them, but made sure they were still close enough that he’d be able to read her expressions and know that she was coming from someplace genuine.

“i know that you’re prob’ly still mad at me, but i hope you’ll still give me a chance to explain myself.” but then she was quiet for a long time after that opener, and she turned away so she could avoid his gaze. “i’m really bad at this. but i’m gonna give it my best shot. so just... listen.” reaching up she ran her slender fingers through her hair as she searched for the right words, looking nothing like her usual confident self. “i yelled at you. and i’m sorry i did. i shouldn’t have, and i acknowledge that. i was wrong. don’t tell anyone that, though. i have a reputation around here.”

mercy was trying add a bit of levity to the situation. she’d never been good at handling anything too heavy. and admitting to being wrong or talking about something like this was uncomfortable probably not only for her, but for cloud as well. but she had to do this.

“i just need you to know that... i’m not mad that things didn’t go as planned or that the deal fell through. there’ll be others and it’s not like we’re hurting for money. i was mad because... i saw you out there, and you were just... i don’t know, my man, it was like you just were holding back or you gave up or you didn’t care. i don’t know what’s going on, and you don’t have to tell me anything unless you want me to know. that part is fine. what isn’t okay is watching you convince yourself that you can’t do something or that you aren’t capable or whatever. i can’t say for sure but i know there’s something going on up there.”

she lifted her gaze to look at him and pressed a finger to her temple to emphasize her point before going on. she was speaking pretty fast, clearly trying to push through everything because she has no idea what she was doing.

“i just. i would never, ever ask you to do something that i wasn’t fully confident that you were capable of handling it. and not only handling it, but fucking crushing it. i would never set you up to fail because, despite what it might seem like, i actually care how you feel and want what’s best for you. you’re part of the crew now. i’m here to support and protect you. so you need to know that no matter what you think of me or what you have in your head holding you back... you’re absolutely better than what you think. you need to give yourself more credit. so the next time you and i go out, promise me you’ll do better. because you absolutely can and you absolutely will, because you’re capable of handling anything i ask of you and more.”

and then she heaves a sigh, as if that was the signal that this whole awkward experience was finally over. mercy then stood up straight again and motioned over her shoulder.

“yeah, so. this was real weird so i’ll be in my cabin so i can spend the next foreseeable future stressing about what i said. let me know if you need me okay? my door is always open.”

before she left, though, she made it a point to rest a hand, gentle and light, upon his shoulder, lingering for a moment to offer him an uncertain kind of smile. at least, though, it was genuine. and with that she disappeared into the corridor so she could retreat to her room. Unprompted Ask - ALWAYS ACCEPTING

He’s had a face like a slapped backside since the unfortunate spat. Cloud was no stranger to confrontation, hell, sometimes he even thrived on it given the right circumstances and on occasion the wrong circumstances. What he didn’t enjoy was being chewed out in front of colleagues for a mistake he’d made in the field. Cloud knew he’d fucked up, fucked up majorly and with consequences which affected the entire crew, but there was something about Mercy’s humiliation tactics which didn’t sit well with him.

In fact it settled in his guts like a stone. Though he guesses all of this isn’t aided by the fact that his failing was down to something so very deep rooted and difficult to shake; a very simple lack of self-confidence, despite the cocksure demeanour he enjoyed fronting. Though he worked well under pressure there were instances - just like this one - where everything just went blank.

Still, if she was going to scream at him the way she had done, he would have much preferred it been away from the many ears who had been unfortunate enough to witness it. Though he guessed a bullet to the back of the head would hurt far less than how she’d bruised his ego just now even if he was already dragging it behind him after that sorry show he put on today. Still, this hadn’t stopped him yelling back, cussing her out and ultimately throwing his hands in the air and stalking off. He’d been advised by a couple of the guys that perhaps retaliating wasn’t the best course of action, though they were swiftly met with a steely gaze and a sour expression, deeming Cloud practically off limits to anyone else for the remainder of that day.

He was used to being on his own anyway, he liked it this way, right? With any luck they’ll just drop him off on the nearest moon and leave him there. Wouldn’t be the first time.

That was until the very source of his foul mood appeared within the archway of the mess, and she was making right for him. Needless to say that Cloud didn’t feel ready for another throat slitting, though rather than physically remove himself from the situation he chooses to remain seated (with his feet crossed upon the table of course in his act of immature defiance) and offer the woman a disdainful glare.

It seemed however, a verbal lashing wasn’t what she had in mind, and it showed mostly through her offset expression as well as the casual way she settled herself upon the table, though this was after she’d shot her men a glare of her own to disperse them from the hall, and Cloud was certain one of them had offered his ‘Sorry, man, you’re on your own’ face as he upped and left. He didn’t motion to shift his feet to make way for her though, Cloud was nothing at all if not utterly childish when it came to matters of discipline and it was rather apparent that he held issue with authority; and if Mercy had learned anything today it was the fact that Strife did not like being proven wrong.

So the sullen expression remained even as that irritation towards the woman who pulled him up on his failings began to turn inward, even when his gaze had sunk so low beneath the weight of that knowledge - that he was a liability, and it wasn’t until now that he realises there’s no worse feeling than knowing you are the weakest link in the chain. And yet there was something good to be taken from all of this, Cloud knew, because she wasn’t casting him aside but offering a chance to better himself, a chance to prove her right, not wrong.

When was the last time anyone had this much faith in him? When was the last time he’d been offered this level of compassion? Cloud couldn’t quite remember, and it only made this whole situation sting that little bit more.

He remains silent throughout her spiel, arms folded defensively, legs still supported on that table in the guise of a barrier between them and allowing the shame of what happened that day to filter into his face. And he had no grounds to argue or defend his corner, because he knew, deep down in his heart of hearts, that everything Mercy said... was right, not that this knowledge made it any easier to hear. Cloud reacts only to that hand on his shoulder, gifting the contact only the slight lilt of his head and a glance out of the corner of his eye. The woman vanishes out of sight then, leaving him to lament on the events, how he could have performed better, how he could have done things so differently... how he’d actually deserved to have his hide tanned for such a blatant blunder on his part.

And Mercy had enough about her to apologise for her outburst when she really didn’t need to... surely that said far more about him than it truly did about her.

Cloud isn’t entirely sure how long he sits there, feeling sorry for himself and just wondering for the life of him how to let it go and move on. Maybe it was his turn to clear the air instead of sitting back and doing nothing like usual. Upon exiting the mess hall, he’s actually surprised that he catches her only moments away from vanishing into her cabin; the urge to bail was strong and his legs threatened to turn him right around and retreat back the way his came, though it seemed his mouth was working faster than his basic impulses.

“Mercy... wait...” he calls, though not without the hue of uncertainty hanging in his tone and he stands there for a moment just staring back at her, to gain his bearings and muster the courage he needs to just close that insufferable distance.

“I don’t want you going in there regretting you spoke to me. ‘Cos this ain’t about you and your management style, yeah? It’s about me and my inability to just... let go.” There’s a crease to his brow, uncertain, defensive and he swallows audibly in a frail attempt to gather himself and simply offer an explanation.

“I don’t wanna make excuses, but... there’s a lot about me you don’t know, and I ain’t sure I’m ready for you to hear it. Not yet. But, I’ve never been a part of anything before, not really. Always on the outside looking in, no handles of control, just... freefalling and hoping for the best. Always just... the rat. Disposable, easily replaced, only good for making up numbers, you know?” Cloud’s unable to maintain eye contact with her, and not for the want of trying, and with a brisk hand through his hair does he puff out an exasperated sigh, frustrated with himself it seemed before delivering a non-committal shrug.

“You give me a chance that I never thanked you for, and then I do so by screwing up. And I deserved everything I got thereon after, I did. You ain’t telling me shit that I don’t need to hear, or even shit I don’t already know. Usually they don’t bother at all and I go on floundering to the next problem until I fuck up again.” He’s rambling, he realises, and he rubs the back of his head somewhat bashfully, uttering a chuckle through his nose, a low and deeply unhappy sound.

“I let you down. I let you all down and I take full responsibility for that, I’ll own it because it’s mine. I promise it won’t happen again, I’ll do better in future, yeah? Just... thanks, for not giving up on me. Enjoy your evening, Mercy.” Cloud leaves it there with a single respectful nod before he’s turning on his heel and making his way back down the hall, just eager for a scalding hot shower to wash away the unpleasantness that was today.

#mercyxkilling #{what do you want? - asks}#{This feeling's so volatile it must be love - Cloud x Mercy}#Honestly #they need more moments like this #just...#talking #So wholesome and cathartic #;o;#long post

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iwhumpyou · 4 years

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BTHB: Hurts to Breathe

Rose - requested, Origami Rose - filled. Anyone can request any square, any character, any universe.

The second half of @whumpedupvesper‘s request.

Masterlist. Kyran.

Bedside Vigil.

~#~#~#~#~#~

His breaths were agonizing. That was the very first thing he registered, before everything else came filtering back into his head, and it was really nothing more than he expected – between an angel who never snapped his wings back in and several distinctly unfriendly glares, he had long since gotten used to being short of breath, to burning as he forced his lungs to take in breaths despite the suffocating pressure and the lightheadedness and the ringing in his ears.

And it had only gotten worse after the cave, with magic still slipping against his fingers and nothing to brace against the pressure, to stop the panic catching in his throat and –

Elizabeth, sneering. Gabriel, snarling. A punch, and it was so much more than physical pain. The weight on him, the panic clawing against his veins, the magic that wouldn’t come, the pressure that became all too real as fingers closed and his windpipe was inexorably crushed and those dark, hate-filled eyes –

Kyran startled up, gasping, his fingers flying to find pressure that didn’t exist, grasping his neck to assure himself that the constricting bands were only in his mind.

His neck was bare, but every breath felt like fire. His ribs were unbroken, but pressure contracted around his lungs. There was nothing stopping him from breathing – nothing except memories, years of them, of hateful eyes and sneers and restrained power just waiting to snap.

Dark eyes, a clouded face – no wings, but he flinched back all the same, because the last time he’d seen this particular angel, he’d been dying.

He could still feel the fingers around his throat – not a memory, not a bruise, no, he could still feel them, and he had to grasp his neck himself to make sure that it wasn’t real.

“You’re awake,” Gabriel croaked. He sounded like he’d been choked, his voice raspy and hoarse. But there were no dark bruises around Gabriel’s neck. And magic still bled dully inside Kyran, sparking at his touch, and there was no way Kyran could’ve fought an angel without magic.

“No thanks to you,” Kyran said in a voice that sounded like crushed gravel, and Gabriel flinched at the blow.

Actually, now that Kyran was paying attention, Gabriel looked horrible. He was slouched in the chair, his skin waxy and his eyes rimmed in darkness, and he stared at Kyran like he couldn’t move. In all fairness, Kyran felt worse, but it wasn’t a competition.

“It was a hex,” Gabriel said haltingly, “Rae destroyed it.”

Kyran took a deep breath and let it out, abruptly exhausted. “Of course it was,” he murmured, sliding back into bed. He kept an arm curled around his neck.

Gabriel didn’t move as Kyran slipped back into sleep.

~#~

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to confusion and an eerie sense of timelessness. The sun shining through the windows had shifted to the shadowy light of dusk, but Gabriel hadn’t moved an inch. He sat with the same slouched posture, hands twisted together, staring at Kyran.

“You’re awake,” he said again, as though he’d decided to take on the job of stating the obvious.

Kyran didn’t feel awake. Kyran felt like he was trapped in a dream.

He couldn’t breathe. He could hear the gasping breaths, could feel his chest rise up and down, but he couldn’t breathe.

He closed his eyes.

~#~

Gabriel had moved this time, though not by much. The chair had been adjusted to afford a better view out the window, even though Gabriel was still staring at him. His hair was damp and he looked tired.

It was the last that sparked the rage. Gabriel had no right to be tired.

“Get out,” Kyran said, levelly, steadily, neutral if they both ignored how his voice couldn’t rise beyond a rasp.

“Kyran,” Gabriel started.

“Get out,” Kyran said, and he didn’t have the energy to make the words hurt. He didn’t have the energy to enforce them.

Gabriel sighed and stood up and walked out.

Kyran took a deep breath.

~#~

Rae was next. She was waiting for him when he woke, and she handed him a glass of water to soothe his throat.

Gabriel hadn’t given him water. Gabriel had perhaps assumed, rightly so, that Kyran would never take a glass of water from him again. As it was, Kyran dipped a finger in it to ensure it was truly just water before he drank it.

“It was a hex,” she said. Kyran hummed. “We destroyed it.” Kyran focused on taking small sips. “Lilith and I have been focused on building better wards.”

Of course. Because Kyran couldn’t, because he was useless now that he couldn’t do magic.

Rae took the glass from him when he was done.

~#~

Adam looked terrible, even worse than Gabriel had, and Kyran blinked at him, confused, before it dawned on him. The witch. The puppet. The control they’d exerted over Adam, until the blood of hundreds stained his hands.

No, Adam wouldn’t have taken kindly to magic controlling his movements once again.

They had nothing to say to each other, but Adam looked slightly better when he could see Kyran, could reassure himself that the demon wasn’t dead, and, if nothing else, Kyran knew that Adam hated being controlled far too much to do it to someone else.

It was not impossible to breathe with Adam in the room, but it was still difficult.

~#~

Lilith chattered. About magic, about her day, about what she’d eaten for her last meal – when she’d eaten, however, she did not mention – about the leaves outside the window. She brought him water, and food, and books. She didn’t want a response to anything she said, which was the only reason her presence was tolerable.

She didn’t mention the hex. She didn’t mention Gabriel. But her eyes never strayed long from the bruises around his neck.

~#~

He hadn’t expected to see Elizabeth at all. He barely knew her – once the warrior princess that had massacred his people, then the tragic martyr. A death he’d carried – no, not carried. It had never been his to carry. But it hounded at his heels, no matter how far or fast he ran, and when he thought he was safe it would snap at him again.

He would never forget Gabriel’s eyes, wide with horror and terror and grief.

He had made himself into a monster for this woman, for the sake of her death, for all the people she’d left behind. And he had no idea who she was.

Elizabeth had haunted him for years, but the truth of it was that she had never known who he was. He’d been shackled to her murder, had cursed her name and life and death, but she had never even heard his name.

“Do you want some water?” she asked. A princess’ courtesy, polite but distant.

“No.” He didn’t know her. He didn’t trust her. And whatever else she claimed, she had been Zane’s sister once.

She merely nodded, as though that was perfectly reasonable.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Kyran couldn’t stop his eyebrows from raising.

“Excuse me?” he rasped.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, still polite, “You’re not a piece of trash, or scum. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It was the hex,” Kyran said hoarsely, eyeing her with suspicion, “Not you.”

“The rage was the hex,” Elizabeth said, her tone steady, “The words came out of my mouth. For that, I’m sorry. You should not have had to hear that.”

He stared at her. He had not expected that.

He also did not fail to note that hers was the first apology he’d heard.

“You’re healing very slowly,” she said, and he’d seen it on everyone’s faces when they looked at him, when they skipped from gray skin to the bruises he could still feel to the exhaustion he couldn’t hide. “I was under the impression that demons healed faster than this.”

Kyran had been under the same impression. But wielding magic still hurt and the exhaustion had settled into his bones long before he’d been choked by Gabriel. Long before Elizabeth had burst into being. Long before everything, because he couldn’t remember a time when he was not tired.

“I can’t breathe,” he confessed.

Her face went sharp as he swallowed, bringing a hand to his throat. “I can’t – I don’t know what – it hurts,” he said, and his chest burned with every gasp, “I can’t breathe.”

“What do you need?” Elizabeth asked, still princess-soft, but there was steel in her tone and determination in her eyes. Her posture had straightened and she looked at him expectantly – a warrior, awaiting orders, a strategist, seeking information. A queen, who could not solve the problem unless she knew what it was.

Kyran thought about it. His throat constricted and his lungs seared and he thought about the way Gabriel filled the room and tightened the pressure around his ribs and the way Rae’s gaze felt like an iron on his chest and Adam’s haunted gaze twisting something inside Kyran and Lilith and the way her words never seemed to give him space to take a breath. He thought about Elizabeth, the living proof that he did not kill her, and Gabriel, who choked on guilt and stayed in silence. He thought about breathing.

“I need to leave,” he said. Something in her face shifted. “I cannot stay here. I cannot breathe here.”

“Will you be safe?” she asked. There was no skepticism in her tone, no doubt, no judgement, but the weight of her gaze was heavy.

Kyran dredged up a smirk. “I lived many years after your death, princess,” he said, “I am not that easy to kill.”

She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she watched as he levered himself out of bed, wincing as the movement pulled at bruises and sore muscles. She followed him as he stumbled out of the room and down the steps. The house was dark and silent. She watched him as he stepped outside, taking a full, deep breath of the chill night air.

“Remember,” she called after him, her voice calm and sure, “Remember you can always come back. Whenever you like.” He turned back to stare at her. “This is still your home.”

No. This was never his home. But he appreciated her words all the same.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you, princess,” he smiled, and he kept walking.

It still hurt to breathe, but it was getting easier.

#whumpfic #badthingshappenbingo #hurts to breathe #kyran #arc: orb #suffocation #emotional whump #kyran is just tired #of everyone #me: these assholes don't deserve kyran #me @ me: you're the one that wrote them that way #me: he deserves to make his own goddamn choices #me @ me: ...you're the writer #me: SCREW THEM ALL KYRAN REFUSES THEIR COMFORT #me @ me: (facepalms)#request fill

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starwarringavengers · 4 years

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learn me (Rey x Kylo Ren/Ben Solo)

Summary: Lightsaber building, Force bonding, and smut. Ben is a secret softie. This was an excuse for me to write something from Ben’s POV. Sort of a continuation of one of the scenes from my fic Force of Nature, which you should also check out!

Rating: M

WC: 2,526

“You’re doing it wrong,”

His voice invades her space and Rey nearly drops the lightsaber’s crystal as she’s holding it. She’d been so distracted that she hadn’t even noticed the Bond opened but he’s there, standing in front of her with his hands behind his back, dark eyebrow raised. He looks like he’s just come from a meeting, based on the lines of his face and the holopad in his hand when he turns and shrugs off his cloak. Rey growls under her breath and resolves to totally ignore him.

At least, that would be her plan if he didn’t sit down across from her in a chair on whatever First Order ship he’s on, projecting everything he knows about building a lightsaber into her mind. Suddenly, she sees it. More than that, she gets it. It makes sense.

She’s tempted, for a very small second, to ask him why he would help her when every interaction they’ve had through the Bond since Crait has included them screaming at each other in some way or another, but she gets distracted, fingers working to repair the lightsaber that’s in pieces before her on the control panel of the Falcon. In her head, his voice is soft, his instructions clear and temper patient even when she almost fucks up.

Try again. He tells her, quietly, like he’s telling her a story to fall asleep to. Rey catches her breath and slides the last few pieces into place, and the lightsaber once again begins to hum in her palm. She looks up at him with excitement only to find him staring down at her with a gentle gaze, nodding.

Kylo Ren finds himself blushing a little bit under the gaze of this scavenger girl, who has made his life a living hell for the last few months, and who is sitting before him grinning like a child as she holds a new dual-bladed lightsaber in her hand. He finds himself sighing.

“Ben? Thank you.” She says then.

He hates it when she calls him that, but he hates it more when she calls him anything else. He only hates it because it feels too intimate. But it wouldn’t feel right to hear the name Kylo come from her lips, not now. He just nods, as if to shrug the whole thing off.

“It’s nice to do something other than fight,” Rey says quietly. Kylo is intent on ignoring her, but she doesn’t seem to want to let him, because she’s staring at him as he refuses to meet her eye. He can feel what she’s thinking - she’s projecting without even trying. She likes the way his hair falls? That’s what she’s thinking?

“Rey,” he growls, “You’re projecting.”

“I’m what?”

“I can hear your thoughts.”

She goes bright red, suddenly stammering for words and avoiding his gaze like she’ll turn to stone if she meets his eye. He finds himself chuckling a little, catching the little remnants of her thoughts that continue to filter into his mind, even as she tries to hide them. Hair - smile - freckles - hands - the way he says my name -

“I’m sorry,” Rey finally gasps, seeming to get a grip on her emotions and subsequently her thoughts, but she’s too late. He’s already seen everything she’s been thinking in the past few lonely months she’s been with the Resistance. She likes when their Bond opens, and she likes their bickering - she likes it because it’s so alive, when everything else feels a little bit dull and dead.

“I do, too,” Kylo tells her, clearing his throat when she flicks her eyes up to him, “Like our Bond, I mean.”

Rey nods a little bit, setting the lightsaber down onto the control panel before her and standing from her seat. He’s in the copilot’s chair, opposite her, or at least that’s where their Bond has put him. If he focuses, he can see everything around her, but he doesn’t really care to. He just wants to see her.

“I want to,” Rey begins, “Can I-“

Kylo raises an eyebrow as she cuts herself off, his hands folded over his knee as he leans back in the chair, waiting for her to plot her course of action. It’s abrupt, when she reaches out and touches his hair, fingers carding through it and he barely has time to breathe, let alone think about the fact that she’s touching him. Not with the onslaught of emotion that hits him, so powerful he’s unsure if it’s her or him or perhaps both of them together. It’s shocking, to say the very least.

Kylo reaches out and takes Rey’s wrist in his hand, startling himself even more than her when he drags her hand down and presses her knuckles against his lips, hoping to memorize the feel of her skin under his kiss. She stumbles into him and he’s there to catch her hips in his hands, sliding them up her back as hers tangle into his hair. They’re going into this whole thing blind, very clearly frightened of each other, but diving headfirst all the same.

It takes a long few moments for their lips to finally meet. A few long moments after he finds himself shuddering under her touch, under her nails dragging over his scalp, and he’s vaguely wondering if he’s truly that starved for touch, that her hands in his hair could have such an effect on him. Rey whispers his name, the moment before their lips touch, and it’s as if she’s breathing life back into him, back into the name - into the boy who was Ben Solo, who might have been worthy of her. Her kiss feels like redemption, like peace - and yet, guilt tears through him.

Rey is gentle with him, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of it. But he wants her, he wants her terribly.

“Stop,” Rey whispers, and he moves to pull away, “No. I can feel it, what you’re doing to yourself. Stop that.” She says, taking his cheek in her smaller hand and quietly asking him to kiss her again, and Ben feels his brain melt - no thoughts of right or wrong exist. It’s only her.

“Where are you?” He asks then, their lips still brushing.

“What?”

“Where are you, where can I find you?”

She moves to push him away, but Ben grabs her close with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you, or anyone else,” he assures, “But I do want to kiss you. For real.”

Rey searches his eyes for a moment, and after seeming to find him trustworthy, gives him a shy smile. “Come and find me, Ben.”

Their connection severs, and she disappears into the air. In a moment, he’s up from his seat and headed straight for his ship, without bothering to tell anyone where he’s headed. Come and find me.

He’s always hated meditation. But, the fact that he is capable of sometimes sitting still comes in handy when he has to do it.

One look is all it takes, one push of his mind against hers, and he finds her. Like a string is drawing taught, pulling him across the stars to her. It doesn’t take long to set course to her, and he uses what he hopes is a combination of the Force and his very best judgement to land somewhere near where he can feel her, but far enough away that there are no lights to be seen from where he lands, in the middle of a patch of valleys, covered with green. It’s an Outer Rim planet he doesn’t recognize, but it hardly matters. He’s not even sure what it’s called. He just knows that she’s here.

Kylo paces around his ship for a few minutes until he finally hears the tell-tale roar of the Falcon as it lands, the hiss of the ramp sliding down as he practically skids down his to meet her in the middle. Rey steps into the grass, looking exactly like she did when they’d been connected by the Bond.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” she says, but it’s half-hearted, as if she doesn’t truly mean it even as she says it. Kylo shakes his head.

“Probably not,” he admits, stepping towards her.

They step forward until they’re toe to toe, until he can catch the scent of wildflowers that always seems to linger in her hair. The Force hums between them, like an electric current, even fiercer than what they’d felt in the Bond. She’s like fire, standing before him.

Rey moves first. As always.

She takes the minuscule step forward and practically climbs him, tangling her arms around his neck and into his hair and pressing her body solidly against his, sighing into his mouth in the most beautifully sinful way when he picks her up in his arms. Slim thighs lock around his waist and Ben has to keep one eye open to find his way back to his ship, carrying her all the while as she presses soft, mind-melting kisses to the skin of his neck. When they’re inside the ship, the door hisses shut and he has to set her back down on the ground, only to press her back into the wall and take her face in his hands. She’s small in front of him, but filled with fiery passion that makes her seem ten times taller. She’s also really fucking strong, and even if Ben wanted to keep her against the wall, she wouldn’t have let him. With a solid shove against his chest, Rey forces him back and her fingers catch the zipper of his jacket and tug it down in one swift movement.

“Do you really want -“

“Yes,” she breathes, not even letting him finish his question before replying, hands now working at tugging his belt. “I want you.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Ben - he has to be Ben in this moment, before her - undresses Rey as she undresses him, his hands skimming down every beautiful inch of skin that he uncovers. She’s covered in freckles and sunspots and little scars, and he can’t wait to connect the constellations on her skin eventually, maybe while she’s lying next to him, quiet with peace. But for now, he forces himself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other when she drags him towards the bed and they fall, as if gravity has let them go willingly, back onto the dark silk sheets. She’s warm against him, trembling with every pass of his fingers against her spine and along her thigh as they tangle together.

Rey takes Ben’s hand in her own then, moving it from where it’s tangled in her soft brown hair and lets him trace a line down her body as she lies beneath him, until their hands reach the place where she’s warmest. “You can touch me, Ben,” Rey whispers. “I won’t break.”

“You could never break, my little scavenger,” Ben replies, grinning through their kiss.

“Then touch me, please.”

He can follow orders pretty damn well, he thinks.

The gasp she lets leave her lips when he touches her is the only thing he wants to hear for the rest of his days, he’s convinced. It’s delicious - soft and sharp and full all at once. But it’s nothing compared to her moan when he finds that perfect place inside her with his fingers, the one that makes her back arch and her mouth fall open in the prettiest way. He gives her no warning when he slides down her body and hooks her thigh over his shoulder, intent on burying his face in her cunt.

“Ben,” she gasps, the sound swallowed by another one of those moans as he kisses her, drinking her in. He’s thoroughly convinced that it’s the best moment of his life, that nothing can top the way it feels to bring her all the way to an orgasm that causes her body to tremble and goosebumps to rise on her skin.

“Please,” Rey whispers when he finally looks up at her. Ben lets her hands pull him up to meet her, lets her find the spot that she wants to be in before taking him in hand and urging him forward, to sink inside of her before he can properly comprehend anything beyond her taste.

Rey sighs and whimpers as he moves against her, their eyes meeting in the dim light of the room, the Force swirling around them like a hurricane as they come together, as if it’s been waiting for this moment. Sighs of Ben, and yes, and just like that, when he finds the angle that grazes against her just right, that has her turning into a puddle beneath him.

She teaches him her - her body and her soul and everything else, and he’s all too happy to be a student in this moment. In fact, he feels quite privileged to be the one learning her this way, the one to know how she sighs and the sounds that she makes and the way she blushes all the way down her chest as she comes.

They crash together, finding a state of bliss that makes the air around them hum and vibrate with pleasure.

For a few minutes, they’re quiet, and Ben rests his head on Rey’s chest as her heartbeat begins to slow and her fingers begin to twist back up in his hair. Then suddenly she stops, and Ben moves out of the way as Rey sits up, avoiding his gaze.

He tries to reach out to her, to call her name.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Rey gasps, more to herself than to him. Something inside him sinks, cracks like the glass window of a ship as it fissures from the pressure of the atmosphere. “Ben, we can’t. We can’t ever do this again.”

A million different things dance on the tip of his tongue as he looks at her, standing there naked in front of him, the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“Tell me this won’t happen again,” she pleads, but makes no move to leave, or to pick up the clothes that are strewn across the floor of his ship.

“I can’t tell you that, Rey,” Ben says, honesty dripping through every word.

“We can’t -“

“Do you regret it?”

Rey blinks. “Do I, what?”

“Do you regret it?”

She stutters for the words. “I, no, I don’t but - but that’s not the point. We shouldn’t have -“ she gasps, her hand pressed to her face in exasperation.

“You’ll have plenty of time to think about it later,” Ben says, reaching out and taking her hand, unsurprised when she steps back towards him as if she’d wanted to do it all along. “Hasn’t anybody ever taught you that sometimes you’re allowed to just feel?”

“Feel? What I feel is confusion, Ben Solo,” Rey states, the barest hint of a smile in her voice as Ben sits up and presses his lips to her sternum, thumbs rubbing over her hips as he pulls her closer.

“Learn to feel pleasure then, Rey.”

#rey #i love rey #reylo #rey x ben solo #rey x ben solo fanfic #rey x kylo ren #rey x kylo ren fanfic #reylo fanfic #star wars #star wars fic #rey fanfiction #tros fanfiction #ben solo and rey #ben solo fanfiction

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obviouslyelementary · 4 years

Text

It’s about family - Chapter 4

Ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198928/chapters/58289167

Warnings: Remus being rude to everyone, specially Roman.

Ships: Still Demus. Will be for a while.

Tags: @yuna-dan

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

Chapter 4 - Private Talks

Life truly was a strange little thing.

Most people said life passed too fast, that you had to make the most of it while you had time, and that your entire life passed in front of your eyes before you died. Life could be surprising, and Patton kinda understood where that came from now. But he was sure life didn't just pass before your eyes when you died.

Or else, that would be an unbelievably bad end for a nice party.

The world surrounding him went blurry and slow motion. The party songs seemed to turn into a merely buzzing sound at the back of his brain, and he couldn't look away even if he tried. And Janus stared back at him, his eyes always so... him. Patton couldn't look anywhere else. He took in his form, his sharper jaw line, lifted nose, the way his hair fell over his face, half hiding the mark on his left side, the earrings that fell over his shoulders so long they were, and his slim figure, dressed in the most pretty of golds and blacks, almost in a dress format, so beautiful and extravagant as him.

The volcano of feelings that erupted inside Patton was too intense and strong to stop, making his stomach twist, his heart squeeze, his lungs shrink, his legs tremble, his muscles contract, and it was almost like he was having a complete malfunction of all organs as he just stared at the person he hadn't seen in so long.

It felt so weird.

"...on... Patton..." he heard someone saying in the middle of all the confusion of feelings he was having, but he only really came back to reality when a hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to see Logan, looking at him with the most worried face he had ever seen. "Patton... are you okay?"

"Oh me? Oh I'm fine!" he said, suddenly, a bit too hyper, before turning back and hearing the loud beat of the song again, all the people screaming over the music, and all of the others just stared at him like he was crazy. "Sorry I doze off for a second, it is a pleasure to meet you, Remus, Janus!"

"He... hadn't said his name" Roman said, and Patton felt a dread in his stomach before he laughed loudly and extensively and waved his hand.

"Oops, I guess I am too good at guessing hehehe... well it is a pleasure nevertheless."

"It surely is..." Janus said, slow and with his usual displeased tone, before he turned back to Remus and smiled at him, holding one of his cheeks with his hand. "Now honey, would you mind not flirting with every single guest? I would truly appreciate if you gave me some attention tonight."

"My little snake, I will give you all the attention tonight! Why don't we all go somewhere more reserved? I would really like to talk to my brother and his friends without, you know, the extreme banging of songs in my ears!" Remus said, his arm wrapped around Janus, sending something very dark and bad into Patton's stomach.

"Oh of course. Follow me" Janus said, waving his hand, and after a quick glance, the four friends followed the couple through the crowd. Roman had to keep begging for Virgil not to leave, while Logan looked at Patton, one hand placed comfortingly on his lower back.

"Pat... do you really want to stay? We can leave at any time" he whispered, and Patton looked at him, giving him a smile.

"I'm fine Lo. Don't worry about it. Also we can't leave Roman and Virgil on their own. They clearly are not very happy where they are" he said, looking at their younger friends, watching as they quietly discussed in front of the group. "We need to be their support!"

"We can't support anyone when we are feeling miserable Patton, we discussed this already" Logan said, firmly, but Patton brushed him off and gave him a confident smile.

"I am not feeling miserable Lo, I swear. Now come on, we have to make sure they won't kill each other. Or kill Remus. Or cry."

"That... we do" Logan sighed, and headed upstairs after Virgil and Roman, looking as the crowd stayed behind them and the music turned faint and far away.

Janus and Remus guided them to the second floor, into a hallway that had a few people that also wanted some privilege, and took them to a separated room that looked like a lounge area for guests. Janus closed the door once everyone was inside, giving Patton a side glance that didn't pass unnoticed, while Remus turned on the lights and grabbed some whiskey and wine for them.

"Make yourselves at home while I serve you all some drinks" he said, politely, and Patton took a moment to look around. It was magnificent, with three large couches, comfy chairs, fluffy rugs, a TV on top of a very nice fireplace, decorations all over the walls and tables, a full liquor bar on the back, with stools, and even a private bathroom and a few games like chess and darts, everything very bar-like.

They found their ways into the couches, the four of them sitting next to each other, with Roman on one end and Patton on the other, Virgil and Logan in between, while Janus took his already full glass of wine and sat down on one of the single chairs, crossing his legs, sipping his drink, eyes never leaving Patton. He knew that because he barely shifted his own away from him for too long.

There was an awkward and long silence while Remus served them drinks, and when he returned, he handed all of them a wine glass and a whiskey glass, something that internally Patton was grateful for because fuck if he didn't want to get drunk right now.

"Why is everyone so quiet? Come on, this is home!" Remus said, and Virgil shifted uncomfortably. No one seemed to want to make the first move, so Logan, the always perfect ice breaker, rose the wine glass to his nose and hummed.

"This is a cabernet sauvignon, is it not?" he asked, and Remus chuckled, sitting on a chair on the opposite side of Janus, which meant he was the closest to Roman, furthest from Patton.

"Yes it is. Not everyone can smell a wine's grapes" he teased, and Logan raised his eyebrow.

"I saw the bottle when you were serving it."

"Oh yes, I know" Remus smirked, and leaned in closer, eyeing them all in a way that could very easily be considered creepy. "I have to be honest, I never expected my brother and Virgil to become friends of people like... you two."

"What about you don't act honest and just shut up?" Virgil asked, seeming to immediately get defensive, but Remus was not taken back, simply smirking and leaning backwards against the chair.

"Come on Virgil, that is no way of treating your party host. Besides, I let you all come inside with no hesitation, even though I only invited Roman, so I am being nice."

"You can't ever be nice, and believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it was for me. None of us would. And I actually really want to leave" Virgil said, he had no filter when he was feeling cornered.

"You are welcome to leave at any time, I don't want anyone to be forced in here. I wasn't even expecting neither of you to show up, so this is good enough. I thought my brother's hatred and jealousy would never allow him to step inside my mansion" Remus said, in a way that sounded so genuine and honest, but that held so much venom behind it that even Patton flinched.

"I am aware that you and Roman haven’t talked in years, and I also know we don't know each other for so long, but just believe me when I say Roman doesn't allow his feelings to interfere in important subjects such as seeing his brother again" Logan said immediately jumping to defend his friends. Patton was thankful for it, because his brain was not working. "In any way, could you please tell us more about yourself? Roman was surprised when he told us you were moving, do you mind telling us what happened?"

Remus seemed to lose a bit of his character at that, surely not expecting them to say anything back, and huffed softly before drinking a large gulp of whiskey before regaining his balance again and smirking at Logan.

"You are a curious one, I like it. Well, this town is relatively small and it has many business opportunities, and as I am certain Roman has told you, we come from a very wealthy family, so I took my savings and moved here, to be closer to my brother, and to open my new tattoo shop, which has always been my dream." He said, and Patton had to hold back his surprise at finding out that Roman was rich.

He had never heard of that before.

"I-I mean, I didn't-" Roman tried, clearly looking for an excuse, but Logan was quicker than him, smiling at Remus in such a cold way that even Patton was surprised. Logan could be emotionless, but he was never cold.

"Yes, he did tell us, and he also told us he wanted to pursue a more honest way of living, thus why he doesn't use your parents' money. Of course, if that is the real reason or not, it doesn't matter. Roman is a very successful designer now, he surely doesn't need any support. Although I do hope your tattoo shop works out for you, even if I should point out that almost no tattoo artist ever becomes rich enough to endorse in the type of... high society activities you seem to enjoy. So perhaps you should try a broader field, if you wish to remain monetarily successful."

Patton's eyes were wide as he looked at Logan, and so were Virgil's and Roman's. Roman actually looked like he was about to cry, while Virgil had a spark in his face that basically said 'fuck you he's right' in a way that made Patton feel more relieved. And the look in Remus' face... it wasn't good at all. All his proud and loud façade seemed to fall flat, and he was looking so angry that Patton started to see how honest Roman and Virgil's fears were.

Remus did not look like a good person in the slightest.

But he couldn't help but steal a glance at Janus, who seemed both offended and amused by the whole discussion going on, two expressions that Patton had never seen in the same person at the same time. Still, there it was, and Janus was quick to fix himself on his chair and sigh.

"Please, boys, can we stop fighting in between the lines? Remus, behave" he said, firm and classy, and Remus leaned away and drank his whiskey while Patton held Logan's hand and smiled. Virgil and Roman seemed to immediately get more comfortable on their spots, regaining their normal body language, seeming to have won a battle they didn't even participate in. "So. Roman. Remus told me quite a lot about you. We didn't know you were a designer."

"Oh yes I am" Roman said, loud and proud, placing a hand on his own chest. "I design clothes for a company here in the area. It is a very rewarding job in the material way, but I also work with a group of children and teach them theater for free, because that enriches the soul."

"That is lovely, I do enjoy myself some voluntary work sometimes. And what about you... Virgil?" Janus asked, and Virgil sighed, arms crossing over his chest.

"I'm a florist. I like flowers" he said, dryly, and Janus gave hima confused look before nodding slowly and sipping on his wine.

"Interesting... Logan, what do you do in life?" he asked, while Logan rolled his eyes impatiently. Someone really wasn't enjoying their time.

"I teach. Science. To a school" he said, annoyed, and Janus nodded slowly without adding anything before turning his head towards Patton, glance seeming to... soften? No. No, Patton was seeing things.

"And you... Patton?" he said, almost in a whisper, his lips over the glass of wine, his legs crossing again so he could turn his whole body towards Patton, eyes digging into his soul like they always did... they always did...

"What do you want to do, after we graduate?"

"I don't know... start a family?"

"That's for girls, Pat. What do you want to work on?"

"I don't know..."

'I don't know...'

"I..." Patton whispered, and then blinked away the memory, shaking his head and breathing in quickly. "I work at a toy store! And I have a kid!"

'I have a kid!'

'Family'

'Family...'

"You have a kid?" Remus said, interrupting the moment, and Patton snapped his head towards him, seeing his disdained look. "Where's your partner? Not up for parties? Dead?"

"I don't have one" he said, softly, and couldn't help but frown. "Also that is very rude to say, what if I had a deceased partner? What would you say?"

"I would say that they are lucky not to be around an idiot like you anymore. You know because those puns downstairs were-"

"Remus!" Janus said, loudly, and angry, and everyone turned to him surprised, even Remus himself. Janus recomposed himself, noticing he had gone a bit too far, and sighed loudly. "Stop being rude to our guests. I know you hate your brother as much as the next person, but chill for god's sake! Here, go grab me some more wine. Downstairs. And don't come back until you are feeling better."

Janus handed his glass of wine to Remus, who after a loud groan took it and left the room, like a dog being told no. Roman's eyes widened, and Virgil couldn't help but snort, both of them looking at Janus impressed.

"How did you do that?!" Virgil said, excited, and Patton relaxed a bit now that the attention was away from him. Janus chuckled as Roman and Virgil started to bombard him with questions about how he had tamed Remus, answering to their questions with laughs and bows, all while Logan held Patton's hand and looked at him.

They had a short conversation through their glances, and Logan stood up, excusing them to go to the bathroom. Patton followed, because of course he did, knowing very well what Logan wanted to talk about.

Still, he couldn't help the skipping of his heart when he heard Janus' laugh in the background.

#it's about family #it's about family chapter 4 #my fanfic #demus #janus #patton #roman #logan #virgil #remus #rude remus #sanders sides #human au

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