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#ill be alright though! everything is fine; mentally just dancing the same old dance it seems to the same old songs
angelictaehyun · 4 years
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PAIRING: guardian angel!taehyun x fem!reader
GENRE: guardian angel au, soulmate au, fluff, angst
WC. 8,400+
WARNINGS: major character(s) illness, minor alcohol usage, mild language
SYNOPSIS: Kang Taehyun, a sassy, young guardian angel, didn’t think anyone could be more of an absolute mess… boy, was he mistaken.
PART ONE || PART TWO || INTERLUDE || PART THREE
.
taehyun was right, something you didn’t care much to admit. 
you absolutely adored kai. 
if you searched “lovable younger brother” in a dictionary, no doubt kai’s picture would appear beside the definition. he was childish, a bit odd, sweet as honey, and outstandingly attentive. the dynamic was quite different with him. he was just as protective and loving as taehyun, but there was a complete lack of emotional attachment. 
you found it refreshing. 
with taehyun, it was almost like you were drawn to each other both physically and mentally as if a string were pulling you together. the longer you remained apart, the more you hurt, but you hid it as best as possible— kai was bright and bubbly, you didn’t like the idea of him seeing anything less than that. 
you fiddled with the fabric of your blanket, mind full of incoherent thoughts, while kai engrossed himself with the movie on the television screen. lately, you often found yourself like this— detached and numb. however, if there was one person to reel you back from the empty feeling, it was kai. you watched him with a fond smile. you were thankful for the young boy, just being in his high-spirited presence, seeing his smile, hearing his obnoxiously loud laugh... it made things hurt just a little less.
“hey, kai?”
he turned his head slightly but kept his eyes glued to the screen, “yeah, what’s up?”
“i think i’m going to turn in, i’m getting sleepy,” you mumbled quietly.
your cracked, dull voice didn’t slip past him. he was concerned of course, but you were hesitant to let him in, to let down your barriers. he sighed to himself before giving you his full attention along with a soft smile, “okay. goodnight y/n, sweet dreams.”
“sweet dreams,” you repeated.
“actually wait, y/n. uh, i just wanted to tell you that i know i’m not him... but i’m always here to talk if you want,” he stated shyly. you felt guilty. you wanted to let him in, really, but everything hurt all the time and you just didn’t have the energy. he didn’t know how much you wanted to talk to him, to cry on his shoulder, to eat copious amounts of ice cream with him, but you were hesitant. hesitant and very much in pain, both mentally and physically.
you simply nodded your head in acknowledgment and gave a soft smile before making your way to your bedroom. you climbed into your bed and wrapped a plush quilt around your feverishly warm body which contrasted the cold, empty bed. you clutched onto a plushie and tried to drive away the negative thoughts, but to no avail, they plagued your mind once again.
just forget about him, he’s never coming back.
you laid there, fiddling with the sheets beneath you, hesitant to fall asleep. lately, you absolutely despised sleeping. your unconscious mind enjoyed playing cruel tricks on you, constantly making you dream of taehyun. the dreams mocked you, reminded you that he would never come home. you hated the moments right after waking up. for a few minutes, you were able to lay in bed, believing everything was alright, that there was no heartbreak or loss. you missed being held by him, having his warmth beside you as he played with your hair and hummed a sweet melody. it never failed to lull you to sleep— his touch was always soothing.
you both came such a long way.
going against every bone in your body, you squeezed your eyes shut and let yourself indulge in the memory of the first time he ever held you close.
taehyun sat on your bedroom floor, irritated and resentful, as you turned on high school musical for the fourth time in the span of thirty-six hours. he narrowed his eyes and flashed you an exhausted, disgusted gaze but you failed to notice, your head easily hidden in the mountain of plushies, tear-stained tissues, and blankets on your bed. you had an annoying habit of mumbling along to the movie and singing— more like yelling— along to the musical numbers. you had the vocal abilities of a brick and he promised himself that if he had to listen to your off-key, horrid singing one more time, he would tear his beloved wings out. he settled himself on the edge of your bed, picking away at the stuffed animals and blankets surrounding you.
“y/n... talk to me. please,” he begged. he was hoping to distract you from the movie and forcing you to speak was the only way he truly knew how. 
you paused the movie and snapped, “leave me alone.”
“see, here’s the thing. i can’t exactly ‘leave you alone’ since it’s quite literally my job to constantly be by your side,” he reminded you smugly. you peaked your head out from under the blankets and threw him a lethal glare. he threw his hands up and surrendered, “fine. have it your way. can you at least move over so i can watch too?”
you sighed before unwrapping yourself from your makeshift blanket burrito and scooting to the side. you sat shoulder to shoulder as an awkward silence fell over the room. he inhaled sharply and glanced at your expectantly but not before mentally preparing himself for your random musical outbursts.
“well, what are you waiting for? ...press play.”
if there was anything worse than your singing, it was your crying and boy, were you doing a lot of crying... you were always a sucker for romantic movies. you clutched your hands to your chest, happy tears spilling over as the ending credits rolled. though, you were quickly brought out of your post-movie haze as you felt light taps on your head. you slowly turned to the side to see taehyun awkwardly patting you, his amusing but unhelpful way of comforting you.
yeah... this doesn’t seem right, he thought to himself.
he retracted his hand only to hesitantly circle his arm around your shoulder and pull you into him. you immediately tensed yet you didn’t pull away, the reasoning beyond you. you adored how he smelled like sweet cinnamon and gingerbread; you did your best to ignore the way his scent made your heart flutter. he cringed to himself before squeezing you tighter— he wasn’t much for physical affection. god, the things he did for this job.
you opened your eyes and shook your head fondly at the memory, a humorless laugh escaping your lips— it was amusing how awkward and hesitant you both were. you tried conjuring more memories but your tired eyes fluttered shut and your mind went blank. in that moment, a dull ache manifested in your chest but you paid no mind, sleep washing over you quickly.
· ──────────────────── ·
the following morning, you woke not to the soft sunlight streaming through the window, but to the sharp pain in your lungs which encroached on your ability to breathe. you gripped your pillow harshly and let out a muffled sob, attempting to relieve some of the pain. unfortunately, this had become a common development, so you tried your best to ignore the pain and hide it, especially in front of kai. you didn’t want to worry his pretty head, especially when telling him wouldn’t relieve any of the pain, it would just make the both of you miserable. you slowly rolled out of bed, trudging into your bathroom to wash your face. you wanted to maintain some semblance of normalcy, it kept you grounded and your mind off of taehyun. you found the pain usually subsided the longer the day went on, so you did your best to cope.
you tried ignoring kai’s heinously loud snores as you trudged out the front door. his body was curled up on the wooden flooring of your living room, hidden underneath his iridescent wings as if it were a substitute blanket. you glanced at his bedroom, which was less than six feet away, and sighed. his ability to sleep anywhere was amusing, though a bit concerning.
lately, kai had taken a liking, though you would argue obsession, to cold brew. it was partially your fault though, your caffeine dependency had exponentially increased, consequently rubbing off on him. being the good older sister you were, plus the fact that once again, you woke up at an ungodly hour, you decided to run a few errands and pick up coffee for you both before he woke up.
you dragged your exhausted body into the nearby café, the scent of java and freshly baked goods waking you up instantly. beomgyu stood behind the counter, a sunny smile already plastered on his face as if he were waiting for you.
“ah, you’re late! i was starting to worry i wouldn’t get to see my favorite customer today,” he mused, a cheeky grin appearing on his stunning features. that handsome face and lively personality reeled in a lot of tips, you just knew it. though, he reserved his extra friendly smile for you, or at least that’s what he told you. seeing you, an old friend from high school, was always a highlight of his shift. you were one of the few reasons he enjoyed working the morning rush.
before you could comprehend his statement, he continued, “same order, right?”
you gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded, hesitant to speak as you feared your hoarse, sleep-filled voice would betray you. he flashed you a small wink and turned around. he danced behind the counter, humming to himself quietly as he made your iced coffee. he was always so full of energy, even in grade school— age didn’t change that fact. you watched as he gracefully poured sweet cream into your cup, the coffee turning light brown— just the way you liked it.
“y/n.”
you admired the way the milk cascaded down the plastic cup and blended with the coffee. it distracted you from the ache in your chest.
“y/n,” beomgyu repeated, snapping his nimble fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. you were so embarrassed.
“oh god, i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying much attention.”
“hm, i could tell,” he chuckled softly, a silvery sound you always loved hearing. he handed you the coffee and scanned the cafe before discretely sliding a sugary pastry across the counter. you tried protesting but he didn’t budge, shutting you down instantly.
“hush. lately, you’ve been out of it... ever since that boy left. trust me, i get it,” he sympathized, flashing you an understanding smile.
“thank you,” you muttered sheepishly, accepting the warm cookie.
“mhm, don’t mention it, it’s my job as a friend to make sure you’re well-fed and you’re looking a bit under the weather. i’ll see you later this week, yeah?”
you nodded softly, “of course.”
when you stepped outside, you stared at the bright sky and let the sun warm your skin, happily relishing the moment. you didn’t know much about angels, save for the fact that they exist, but you liked to think taehyun sat perched on a cloud and watched over you.
when you arrived home, the scent of burnt food was the first thing you were greeted with. dirty dishes were splayed out across your kitchen island and bits of pancake batter stuck to the walls. a nervous kai stood in front of the stove, attempting to not burn another pancake and easily failing. you set the coffee on the countertop and sighed, “kai, what are you doing?”
“hey! y/n! wow, you’re back so soon! how was the café?” he asked, hoping he could steer clear of the upcoming scolding but much like the pancakes, failing miserably. you didn’t answer his question, rather you studied the messy room, eyes instantly landing on an unused fire extinguisher. your eyebrows lifted curiously.
“... just in case,” he explained. he shrunk in on himself and shifted uncomfortably. he didn’t want to upset you, especially not when you were heartbroken. you nodded your head understandingly, chuckling to yourself as you began preparing a bowl of pancake batter.
he seemed stunned, “you... don’t seem mad at me...”
“ah, you were just trying to make us a nice breakfast! why do you think i’d be mad?”
“oh... i don’t know, i just thought you’d be upset,” he mumbled softly. in response, you smiled mischievously before dipping a finger into the batter and swiping a bit on his nose. he grinned in return, taking his own handful and splattering it on your cheek.
“oh, you’re definitely gonna pay for that,” you challenge.
he stood on his tip-toes and stuck his tongue out childishly, “you’re going to have to reach me first.”
you both giggled and played until there was more pancake on your clothes than on the stove. he might have been a couple centuries old but he had such a young and active spirit. his smile was outstandingly bright and it brought you so much joy. because of him, for the first time in a long while, your smile was genuine and you couldn’t feel any pain.
· ──────────────────── ·
you were quite wrong. 
taehyun wasn’t sat atop a cloud. instead, he was curled up on soobin’s old couch with a scorching fever. he shook violently, the pain overwhelming him, but all he could focus on was the thought of you. he thought about your crinkly eyes when you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, the small bites you took from your food and the way you insisted it helped you savor the food when really you were just picky. he thought about the way you always clutched onto his shirt when he kissed you, the way you couldn’t help but sob at a sad commercial, and the way you would try to hide your blush when he flirted with you. though, the thought that occupied his mind the most was your vibrant smile. god, your smile. it was art. it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he’d seen the world; he’d been alive during the renaissance but he thought your smile outdid any piece. he would’ve done anything to see it again. the thought of you broke his heart, shattered him into little pieces, but he couldn’t stop.
he groaned in agony, grasping at the seams of the nearest pillow. soobin watched the younger from the opposite side of the room, a worried expression painted across his face, “jesus tae, what the hell is wrong with you?”
taehyun ignored the question, the dull ache in his head muffled the older’s voice anyways.
“you’ve been like this for months, this is not a normal breakup,” soobin continued. it was true, ever since he left you, his health had been deteriorating to the point where soobin knew this wasn’t just heartbreak, it was something beyond that. taehyun wondered how you were faring, he hoped you were doing better than him. he was clueless, the only thing soobin told him was that you were a little under the weather— understatement of the decade.
“bub, something is seriously wrong. angels shouldn’t get this sick. you need help. i’m sure someone will know what to do,” soobin assured hopefully. the older shook his head helplessly, his mind trying to run through all the potential reasonings for the sickness. he hated seeing taehyun this way.
taehyun might not have known much, but he knew what would at least quell the pain. though selfish, something an angel should never be, he knew he had to see you.
· ──────────────────── ·
your condition went to shit almost overnight.
kai had tried everything: tea, warm baths, herbs, all sorts of therapeutic techniques, and every single medication on the planet. none of it helped in the slightest. the pain which had started in your chest had spread downward, running from your ribs to your lower extremities. your sickness was working it’s way out, slowly overtaking your body, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. even the doctors couldn’t find a solution. while kai spent most of his time frantically scrounging for new healing techniques and medication, he was often found right beside you, attached at the hip— something you hadn’t experienced since taehyun. kai always held your hair back when you puked, wrapped you in blankets when you shivered, and prepared soup for you when your throat was sore— albeit the food was near inedible. he was the perfect guardian angel. he loved you so much, he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you.
kai was out, once again, fetching a random medication that he didn’t even think would work, but he told himself it was better than nothing. it pained him to leave you alone, but he knew he had to try. you, on the other hand, made a beeline for the wine bottle you kept hidden in the back of your pantry, the second kai shut the front door. you liked to think you were handling your heartbreak well, or at least masked it flawlessly. looking back on your breakup with yeonjun, you scolded yourself for handling it so childishly. with taehyun, though not necessarily a normal breakup per se, it was far more unbearable yet you handled it... maturely. or at least that’s what you told yourself. you plastered on a false facade of normalcy, keeping everything bottled up, ignoring the little voice in your head that told you this was an unhealthy way to cope. but looking at the bright side, at least you were functioning and there wasn’t a disgusting pile of used tissues growing beside your bed.
this particular night was the only time, for just a few freeing minutes, you didn’t hurt. the pain subsided and was pushed to the back of your mind— all thanks to the light buzz of the alcohol. you stood on your small balcony, wine glass in hand, staring out into the cold darkness of the night. your mind was a bit fuzzy and despite the frigidness of the air, you felt warm.
“taehyunie... i miss you so much,” you giggled to yourself. not often you called him by that nickname but you knew he secretly loved it. you leaned carelessly against the edge of your balcony and looked to the heavens, mumbling taehyun’s name until you were shouting. a part of you hoped that repeatedly calling his name into the darkness of the night would bring him back to you— much like the bloody mary tactic.
you closed your eyes and tried again, “taehyun!”
your mind was too fuzzy to acknowledge the glow burning beside you. before you could comprehend the situation, a hand was roughly tugging you away from the balcony. you were instantly pressed against the glass door behind you, the wine bottle getting ripped from your hands easily. your vision was blurry but the second his figure came back into view, your vision became clear as day. taehyun stood in front of you, as beautiful as always, but noticeably paler and thinner— even his wings lost their captivating glow.
“jesus y/n, are you trying to wake the entire apartment complex, what are you doing?”
his presence was immediately sobering.
you were at a complete loss of words, too stunned by his presence to speak. he hovered over you protectively which eased your mind and heart. he stood so close to you, practically sharing the same air. it was unbelievable. you slowly brought your hand up to his face, too scared to move any faster in fear that he might vanish into thin air. maybe this was a lovely fever dream, but the way he let out a shaky breath and wrapped his hand around your small wrist told you otherwise. he was finally with you, his home, after so many weeks apart.
you threw your arms around his neck and gasped, “i can’t believe it worked.” 
he immediately wrapped his strong arms around your frame and breathed you in. he missed your warm hugs, the way you always smelled like lavender and fabric softener, and he especially missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms like he was meant to hold you. holding you was like holding a piece of his heart. he rested his chin on the crown of your head, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them once more and shaking his head, “wait, wait, what worked?”
“oh! i called your name until you appeared.”
he tucked a couple of loose strands of hair behind your ear and cooed, “silly girl, that’s not how it works.”
a light blush painted your cheeks, a bit embarrassed for thinking that was the reason he came. he chuckled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before continuing, “i was already on my way here, i just needed to make sure you were okay. but i don’t have long, soobin will notice i’m gone.”
you nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in and stinging. he brushed one hand against your cheeks, tracing over your cheekbone lightly while his other hand gripped your waist, “let me kiss you.”
his bluntness shocked you but you didn’t shy away. his eyes flitted around your face, wanting to capture every detail before he kissed you. when he finally leaned in and pressed his plush lips on yours, it felt like oxygen returning to your lungs after holding your breath for so long. the sounds of the cars driving below, people chatting amongst themselves, airplanes flying above— it was all silenced, the only thing that mattered was him. all he could feel, see, touch, breathe... it was all you. the unspoken finality settled in the space around you, telling you it would be your last kiss. you didn’t notice the tears slowly streaming down your face until you tasted salt on your lips, but that didn’t stop him, if anything it drove him to kiss you deeper.
he wanted to kiss all the tears and pain away. 
he pulled away to wipe his thumbs under your eyes, catching the loose tears as they fell uncontrollably. he didn’t fare much better as his vision became blurry but he tried to hold it in as best as possible. you clutched onto his shirt and let reality sink in, both acknowledging that this would be the last time in each other’s touch. your cheeks were puffy and flushed red. he couldn’t help but smile— your raw beauty was enchanting.
“i love you. i’ll always love you,” you whispered, voice hoarse from the crying. he wiped the tears from your cheeks. you leaned into his touch wanting to savor every second.
“you are the love of my life. i might not be by your side anymore, but one day, i will be. i know it. i’ll come back to you and we’ll be together again. i promise you i’ll never lose hope,” he declared, pressing a long kiss to your forehead.
“please don’t go. please. just stay with me,” you begged, desperately grabbing his hands in a final plea.
“babygirl, i have to go, i shouldn’t be here,” he whispered softly. he hated hurting you. he absolutely hated himself for it, for having to leave you. your body racked with sobs as he pressed a final kiss to your lips, “goodbye, my love.”
and in a flash of light, he was gone.
your hands grabbed at nothing but air. you stared ahead at the lively city beneath you, a stark contrast to the dead, lonely emptiness you felt. his sweet cinnamon scent still lingered in the air around you and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relish in the last bit of him you’d ever get. unfortunately, the moment didn’t last long as a searing pain shot through your body causing you to double over in pain, the white behind your eyes quickly turning black.
· ──────────────────── ·
the harsh fluorescent lighting cast down upon you in the most unpleasant manner as you groggily woke from your deep slumber. your eyes trained on the ceiling above you which was littered with old water stains and peeled paint. your mind ran wild with frantic thoughts but was quickly silenced by a pain shooting down your left arm. the cardiac monitor beside you mirrored the panic you felt, the tempo of your heartbeat increasing with each rushed thought and you suddenly became increasingly aware of the needle stuck in your arm and the rough sheets scratching your bare legs.
“hey, y/n, shh everything is alright. you’re in the hospital,” a familiar voice explained.
you craned your neck towards the sound, wincing from the dull ache in your neck. your vision was a bit hazy but you could still see the outline of a thin boy sitting on the hospital bed beside you.
“don’t move too much, you’re pretty bruised up,” he continued.
you quickly distinguished the soothing, deep voice, “... beomgyu?”
“hi princess. shh, don’t strain your voice, you’ve been out for a couple days now. you need some water,” he stated softly and you could hear the concern laced in his voice. your vision sharped, landing on his bright yellow sweater. he stood out like a sore thumb, especially considering the drabness of the hospital.
“beom, what are you doing here?”
“ah, i’m your guardian angel of course! i have to watch over you,” he joked cheekily.
your eyes practically bulged out of your head and you were left at a loss of words, no, this can’t be real.
“... jeez y/n, i’m kidding. obviously, angels don’t exist,” he clarified, scrunching his nose concerningly. you flashed him a small smile and mustered up a nervous laugh in response. if he noticed any hesitancy from you, he didn’t mention it.
“right... anyways, i’m here because you haven’t shown up at the café in a few days and also i’m your emergency contact. remember?”
your mind flashed back to a very blurry night, where both of you made silly promises and spilled drunken confessions. you were fighting with yeonjun, yet again, and you ran to beomgyu’s apartment crying. he comforted you with alcohol, ice cream, and poorly plotted movies. you both felt alone, having only each other to rely on, so you both made a pact to always be there for each other. step one was making each other your emergency contacts, though, you didn’t quite get to step two, considering you both passed out on his living room floor.
“... huh, that was so long ago,” you mumbled.
“yeah, you’re telling me, thank god yeonjun’s ass is out of your life, i still can’t believe he cheated on you,” he grumbled angrily. you simply hummed in agreeance.
silence filled the room as both of you reminisced on old times. a part of you wished you could go back, and though you fought with yeonjun quite a bit, it was far less painful than what you experienced now. you tried to ignore the sadness, letting your eyes study the environment. the room was cramped but homey, the warm sunshine that streamed through the windows reflected off the white walls comfortingly. the hospital floor you were on was quite high up, the sky seemed closer to you than usual. you let a soft sigh escape your lips as you watched a puffy cloud float by. your thoughts ran loose again but the one thought that stood out the most was about him— the boy you had lost. muffled sounds traveled through your ears but you didn’t process them until beomgyu called your name.
“... and y/n, you’re pretty lucky, i think that boy of yours came back! you’re totally right, he’s really cute. he’s been attached to your side but i think he’s out talking to the doctor right now,” beomgyu rambled on.
his statement captured your full attention. your heart fluttered at the thought of taehyun being back by your side. you eagerly shifted your gaze towards the door, awaiting his return, completely ignoring the throbbing ache at the nape of your neck. your vision was still blurred but you were able to distinguish the tall, lanky frame of a boy trudging through the door.
“oh! perfect timing, here he is!”
“y/n!” the boy excitedly shouted. kai’s voice was unmistakable and you despised the way your heart dropped, just slightly. he’d been your rock for the past couple months. you were unfair, even now, when all kai did was diligently watch over you and love you. he hovered over your injured body, grabbing your hand to hold against his chest. you could see the obvious glint of worry in his eyes, he truly did care for you.
“you’re okay...” kai whispered softly. he sat on the edge of your bed and circled his thumbs over your hands soothingly. he turned to face beomgyu, “hey, thanks for watching over her while i was out, i appreciate it.”
beomgyu wasn’t blind. he knew this wasn’t the boy who broke your heart, the boy that would never come back. he watched your body deflate when kai stepped into the room, hope leaving your body. he flashed kai a cheery yet guilty smile, “yeah of course! y/n and i go way back, i’ll always look out for her.”
kai directed his attention back to you, noting the slight confusion and panic you held despite being around people you loved and cared for. he nodded his head understandingly, “two nights ago, i came home to find you unconscious on your balcony. your body was so cold but for some reason, your forehead was really hot. i brought your here for testing but the doctor can’t find anything wrong with you. they said your brain activity and vitals are normal, not to mention the fact that you have shown no physical symptoms. i tried to convince them to keep you here so they can monitor you but they’re sending you home.”
your body relaxed as you processed the information. your illness, whatever it was, didn’t concern you as much as it should have. it’s not that you didn’t care but the gravity of your situation hadn’t fully settled in. your physical appearance, though sickly and pale, fared much better in comparison to your internal health. your lungs were caving in on itself and your heart was becoming significantly weaker. you never got better, only worse, and kai blamed himself. he knew something was off yet he kept his distance, not wanting to upset you. he didn’t know that his efforts were a waste and nothing he did would help.
kai shuffled around the small room and let you sleep once more but you couldn’t. instead, you kept your eyes shut and listened to the easy, casual banter between the two boys, both forming an instant connection. it warmed your dying heart. you so badly wished you could be that person for kai— a reliable friend, a confidant. even though he was the guardian angel, you did your best to look out for him as he did you, you just preferred doing it from a safe distance. he treated you like family, like an older sister, but your relationship arguably should’ve been a lot closer for the time you spent together. you pushed him away and built unnecessary walls, and what was the point? your heart was heavy but it wasn’t from your illness nor was it from the heartbreak you felt— it was from the guilt of shutting out the one person that loved you unconditionally.
after a few hours of faux sleep and trying to contain your smile from the sound of the boy’s muffled laughter, you were discharged and brought home. kai insisted on carrying you from the car, up the stairs, and into your warm bed, refusing to leave your side for even a split second. if you moved, he would follow you around the apartment like a lost puppy. it was heartwarming, the amount of compassion a single soul could carry. yes, kai was an angel, but his ability to love and empathize was beyond any supernatural explanation— it was just the way he was built.
he sat beside you and wrapped you tightly in a blanket, “are you feeling any better? do you want anything? i can go make us some snacks if you want.”
you softly smiled and shook your head, “no, it’s alright. i think i just want to rest. maybe i’ll get some homework out of the way or i’ll just go back to sleep.”
the thought was quickly retracted when something lodged in your throat, coughing only worsening the feeling. kai rushed to grab a towel and watched helplessly as you hacked into the soft fabric, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. when you pulled away, both pairs of eyes directed to the blood splattered across the towel, though before either one of you could react, a white-hot pain overwhelmed your body. your heaved breathes struggled to escape your lips but your agonized scream didn’t. you clutched onto his t-shirt before collapsing into his lap, knocking out cold.
· ──────────────────── ·
after six panic-filled calls with kai, soobin frantically paced around his house— a nice perk of being an elder angel with a lack of guardianship duties. honestly, his job description was pretty vague. he spent most of his time wandering the earth and enjoying the beauty it had to offer. he didn’t have to watch over a human, rather, he watched over younger angels, making sure they performed their jobs correctly, and on the rare occasion, having to strip wings if an angel went buck wild and succumbed to sin.  
taehyun’s symptoms were less severe due to his supernatural status— the effects of illness would manifest slower. sure, there were a few times he did nothing but writhe in agony... but it wasn’t as often as you. he was more or less deteriorating from the outside, the illness working its way in. he was concerningly pale and what once was smooth, hydrated skin was now dry. the rosy, soft lips he used to kiss you with were now severely chapped but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. it was rare that taehyun slept, even with you. he preferred to watch over you, stroking your hair and pressing kisses along your shoulders while you dreamt, but lately, he’d been so drained of energy and all he could do was sleep.
soobin watched the younger curl up and shiver despite being under three wool blankets. something about this specific situation seemed oddly familiar to soobin— the way both you and taehyun were deteriorating at an alarming rate. the sickness worked oppositely amongst the two of you, his illness painfully manifesting exteriorly and working its way in versus your illness which began internally. similarly, your pain stemmed from the torso and worked its way to your extremities while his began in his limbs and worked its way up to his chest. it was the same disease but it worked inversely, and soobin, for the love of god, could not pinpoint why he felt like he’d seen this before.
soobin hesitantly made his way onto his back patio, wanting the younger to sleep in peace. the chill air was refreshing especially with taehyun’s rising body temperature warming the living room, making it insufferable. he plopped onto his old, rickety rocking chair and closed his eyes, drowning out everything but the bird’s chirping. the wind lightly brushed against his skin comfortingly and he welcomed the gentle touch. it was calming, the way the leaves rustled amongst the golden sky— he wished the world was always this peaceful and serene. a small brush against his ankles revived him from his near-sleep state. when he peered down, there was nothing but the wooden boards under his feet but he swore he felt a distinct touch. a lightbulb flickered in his mind.
“oh shit.”
as if the world was falling apart, he scrambled back into his house, realizing the familiarity of the situation.
“taehyun, taehyun, you need to wake up,” he shook aggressively. taehyun didn’t budge, instead, he let out a small, annoyed grunt of acknowledgment. soobin continued, “taehyun, you need to get up. i know why you’re sick.”
the declaration seemed to wake the younger but he didn’t display much enthusiasm due to his unabated exhaustion. he cautiously opened one eye and grumbled as if that sufficed as a good response.
soobin scratched the back of his neck and continued nervously, “um, well, you see... you’re... soulmates.”
taehyun slowly sat up and leaned against his elbows, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. he shook his head, he’s kidding, right?
“no, i’m being completely serious,” soobin deadpanned as if he could read the younger’s thoughts.
“fine, humor me.”
“god, it was such a long time ago, but when i was young, i went to a beach. wait. no, it was the woods. yeah, the woods because there was a willow tree. anyways, it was windy and—”
taehyun quickly cut him off, “bin, you’re rambling and not making any sense.”
soobin inhaled deeply, regaining his thoughts before starting again, “okay, when i was younger, i came across an old, prophetic-like scripture. it told a story of soulmates that were separated from each other and because they weren’t together, their physical and mental state deteriorated. uh, there was also something off about the ending... it was pretty wack. it kind of warned me about another set of soulmates... i don’t really know how to explain it, but i think you and her are the next set.”
taehyun audibly scoffed. a bewildered expression covered his face as he eyed the older as if he weren’t in his right mind.
“hyung... soulmates... hate to break it to you, but they... don’t exist,” taehyun tried explaining slowly, hoping his pace would make soobin understand.
“aiya, stop talking to me like i’m a child. i didn’t believe it either but it makes sense. you both have this weird, mysterious illness that’s only getting worse but the only time you felt a bit better was when you saw her a few weeks ago. and yeah, before you say anything, i know about that. you’re the worst at lying.”
taehyun deflated into the couch but not before a harsh coughing fit. his lungs felt so restricted and the air felt thinner.
“hyung, i think i’m dying,” he stated weakly.
“no shit.”
the entirety of this situation crushed soobin. one of his oldest friends, the young boy that loved him like a brother, was dying. it was so painful to watch but he didn’t feel helpless anymore, he knew exactly what to do.
“get up. let’s go see y/n.”
taehyun perked up, just slightly, his energy too drained he could barely move. the older dragged him off the couch and wrapped a wing around the sick boy, trying to keep his shivering, weak body warm.
· ──────────────────── ·
much like soobin, kai was frantically pacing back and forth when the oldest dragged taehyun’s limp body through your front door. sunshine streamed through your windows, brightening the room yet everything felt dull as if all the life and energy in the room were slowly seeping out of the apartment.
“um, she’s in her room,” kai mumbled worriedly.
just from that small interaction, taehyun could see how scared the youngest was, how much he loved and cared for you. he felt grateful and indebted to kai; he was so glad that you had someone like kai watching over you, especially if he was unable to. with little energy, taehyun trudged to your room, the other two boys following closely behind. he opened the door slowly, heart absolutely shattering when his eyes landed on your pale and gaunt frame. he could’ve sworn he could see droplets of dried blood at the corners of your mouth. though as ill as you seemed, he couldn’t help the swell of love and energy that surged through his chest now that he was breathing the same air as you. he practically ran to your bed and enveloped your smaller frame in his. he wrapped his arms around your waist and breathed in the lovely lavender scent he’d grown so fond of.
the other boys coughed lightly, feeling a bit like they had stumbled in on a personal moment. taehyun paid no mind to them though, especially not when you looked so beautiful sleeping. he lightly nudged your arm to wake you but when you didn’t move, he peered down at you concerningly.
“hyung, she hasn’t woken up in the past five hours and i’ve tried everything. the only thing i know is that she’s breathing,” kai clarified.
he was right. you were still breathing but it was so faint and shallow, he shed a tear. you were so lifeless and his heart skipped a beat when you took a bit longer than usual to inhale.
“she’s dying,” taehyun whispered to no one in particular. he pulled you against his chest tightly in a weak attempt to warm your frigid body. he stroked your hair and weakly hummed a sweet song, something he always did when you slept.
“bin, why isn’t she waking up? i’m right next to her, i’m holding her in my arms like i always do... she should be awake,” he sobbed. he felt like he was on the brink of insanity, having you so close yet so far. once again, soobin stood helplessly and picked at his fingers nervously. he really had no idea what to do. he thought that being with you would fix everything but it didn’t.
kai spoked up first after a few moments of painful silence, “hyung, i think you need to lose your wings.”
soobin and taehyun glanced at each other before throwing kai a confused look, both intelligently questioning, “... huh?”
“think about it, it makes sense. you might physically be next to her but you can’t truly be with her while you have your wings. with them, you’ll always have something standing between the two of you,” kai explained diligently. soobin stood dumbfounded, the cogs in his mind turning exceptionally slow.
“i think... he’s right. aw, when did you get so smart, huh?” soobin cheekily asked, ruffling the youngest boy’s hair. kai brushed his hand away playfully, blushing softly at the newfound attention.
taehyun felt your body temperature drop and he wrapped you firmly in a quilt. “take them. i don’t want them anyways, not if it means a life without her,” he whispered.
“tae, it’s not that easy, your wings can’t just be taken away in a snap, there’s a process for this. it’s all very... bureaucratic. an elder angel has to approve,” soobin explained softly, not wanting to upset the younger.
“well, it’s a good thing you’re practically ancient, heck, you were alive to have a crush on cleopatra,” kai joked, trying his best to lighten up the somber mood.
“wait, kai has a point. you’re like, a thousand years old, and you’ve been an elder angel for a couple of centuries now. this isn’t some random case of an angel gone wild, the both of us will actually die. please soobin,” taehyun begged shamelessly. the desperate plea broke soobin’s heart.
“you’ll be mortal again, an average human... you’ll die one day,” soobin reminded while slowly inching towards the bed. taehyun glanced down at your sleeping figure, tracing his large hand over your arm. he understood the cost but he didn’t care. he’d been ready to give up his wings long before he met you, but now he had a reason. he brushed the wisps of your hair away from your forehead before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss.
he looked at the two boys. taehyun thought they looked scared, maybe hurt, or maybe both. he flashed them an apologetic smile but truth be told, he didn’t feel sorry, especially not when it came to being with you. he took a deep breath and sighed, preparing himself for what was about to come.
“do it.”
to be frank, it hurt a lot more than it should’ve, but that was to be expected from an inexperienced elder angel. taehyun felt every single agonizing second of his wings disintegrating to nothing but dust, the only thing grounding him was the thought of you. he clutched onto your body as if you would ease his pain, but in some ways, you did. he entwined his hands with yours and buried his face in the crook of your neck as the pain grew increasingly worse. though still unconscious, your breaths grew rapid, matching his, like you were experiencing the same aching pain as him. when his wings were fully gone, soobin and kai shared the same pained expression— they had lost their brother, but the idea of taehyun’s happiness did much to quell their hurt. taehyun smiled to himself, feeling free after so long, and entangled his legs with yours. he pressed his lips to the back of your head softly before a familiar darkness washed over him, gently lulling him to sleep.
“he’ll be okay... right,” kai asked, his worried expression growing more concerned with each fleeting second.
“yeah bub, he’ll be fine. both of them will be. they have each other,” soobin gently confirmed. he circled an arm around kai’s shoulder and ruffled his hair affectionately.
“you did good, kai.”
· ──────────────────── ·
you woke up first with a dull ache between your shoulder blades and a warm body pressed against your back. you remained oblivious to his presence, your mind trying to reel in the events that occurred before you fell unconscious. the pain in your chest was practically gone and you felt lighter as if a weight had been lifted off of you.
it wasn’t until he slightly stirred behind you that you realized his presence, the familiar scent of cinnamon and nutmeg suddenly overwhelming your senses. you were scared to turn around, you almost believed it was another realistic fever dream but your instincts told you otherwise. when you looked at him, he was still asleep, his beautiful features softened by the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. you nearly shed a tear as you delicately traced a finger down his sharp jawline, fearing he would dissipate into thin air at even the slightest bit of pressure. he seemed livelier. his skin was clear and glowing, the apples of his cheeks were painted pink, and his overall appearance seemed healthier.
his eyes fluttered open, your gentle touches peacefully waking him up. immediately, a deep sigh of relief escaped from his lips. you weren’t just some beautiful dream; he was finally next to you, his home. you didn’t say a word but judging from your trembling lips, you couldn’t even if you wanted. your mind ran rampant but all you could think about was how you were back in his arms. you didn’t notice the tears falling until you felt the pillow beneath you dampen. he pulled you into his chest and threaded his hands through your hair, pressing gentle kisses along your forehead. your walls broke and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed with the grief of losing him but also with the joy of being back in his arms.
“it’s been so hard, tae. it’s been so hard without you.”
he closed his eyes and sighed, “oh baby, i know. but i’m here now and i’m never going to leave you again. i promise.”
you ran your hand along his back, stopping when you hit the area where the base of his wings usually started. even when he hid his wings, there were still two visible slits that sat between his shoulder blades, but you could neither see nor feel them anymore. you tensed and swallowed harshly, “um, where are they... where are your wings?”
you already knew the answer but his answer still shocked you.
“they’re gone... i’m not an angel anymore, but please don’t worry, i promise you i’ve wanted to be human for so long. it’s just, because of you, i finally had a good reason to give them up.” he meant every word he said. for the first time in his life, he felt free and unhindered. as an angel, he was able to see the world, meet new people and he loved it but he’d been alive for so long and as much as he truly loved caring for others, he felt lost, almost hopeless. at least until he met you.
you were confused and left with a lot of questions but you didn’t quite know what to say. he wanted to answer all of your questions but he’d gone so long without your lips on his so he leaned down to press a gentle kiss. you let a soft sigh escape, the feeling of his touch after so long was both relieving and comforting. he soothingly ran his hand along your waist, the other threading through your hair. there were so many things left unspoken but the kiss was able to say it all. when he pulled away, you were left breathless and dazed. he kept his face hovered over yours and his eyes shut, wanting to savor the moment.
“i love you,” you whispered.
he missed hearing you say those sweet words. his hand gripped your waist and he shyly smiled, “i love you too.”
honestly, you’d miss his wings, though the more you thought about it, they symbolized his immortality and his inability to truly be yours.
“so... i guess this makes you a fallen angel,” you hummed.
“i guess so since i’ve fallen for you,” he mused cheekily. you lightly pushed his shoulder, his corniness making you cringe, but you couldn’t help the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks. he chuckled softly, entwining your hands once more and pressing a light kiss to your temple. you smiled at him, realizing you were granted a second chance— a bright, wonderful future where you could grow old with him.
“i’m home,” he whispered against your skin. you let out a content sigh as you curled into his chest and closed your eyes, listening to his steady, human heartbeat.
what a beautiful way to begin the rest of your lives together.
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ressyfaerie · 3 years
Note
I’d like to request a Brooklyn x Tyson fic! I recently had the idea of Brooklyn developing a crush on Tyson, since he was the first person to try to be his friend. But I couldn’t think of how to write this myself. I’m curious if Tyson could come to return the feelings of someone who almost killed someone so dear to him.
Okay uh- I got really carried away with this one! Man it was good! I formed a lot of opinions as I wrote this I hope it’s to your liking! You mentioned if I thought Tyson could return the feelings of someone who almost killed someone so dear to him so I added a bit of that spice in there! Hope you enjoy :) It sorta turned into a full fic WHOOPS. Anything in * are Tyson’s private thoughts!
The party was a great success. 
Mr. Dickenson was very impressed with his work. He had made a great area under the bridge beside the small BBA headquarters, well headquarters is putting it nicely, it’s a decent sized shack. 
So he was understandably nervous when he invited all the teams to a large summer party.
To his surprise, almost everyone showed up, it brought a massive smile to his old face.
The Bladebreakers helped a lot, Hilary hung up lanterns and decorations, Kenny and Max catered food, and Ray and Tyson sent out invites and dealt with the technical stuff. 
“Wow even Kai came!” 
“Of course Kai would come you crazy old man.” Hiro stood beside Mr. Dickenson with his arms crossed, not exactly happy to be there. 
“Of course? He’s a loner isn’t he?” Mr. Dickenson questioned.
“Not since the fall of BEGA, he’s stuck to the Bladebreakers like glue. It’s annoying seeing him in the Dojo with his friends whenever I go there.” 
“It’s nice to hear the words ‘Kai’ and ‘friends’ in the same sentence.” Mr. Dickenson smiled ignoring Hiro’s previous statements.
“Even Brooklyn’s here!” Mr. Dickenson clapped his hands together with glee looking into the crowd at the flash of orange hair.
“Yeah being a rebel as usual.” Hiro rolled his eyes.
Brooklyn was smiling while talking to members of the white tigers. Everyone seemed to be on edge with his team's appearance, but since BEGA it seemed to be mutually decided to let them back into the beyblade community, forgetting the past. 
“How’s he doing?” Mr. Dickenson’s eyebrows knit together in concern. 
“Alright. Training him is tough, as usual. He’s on meds now, and seeing a psychologist. I would like to say he’s getting there, but he’s not even close.” 
Mr. Dickenson nodded, acknowledging, but not showing any emotion, he didn’t know what emotions to show or feel, he tilted his head realizing that’s how Brooklyn thought all the time.
He finally decided on a response. 
“He looks happy.” 
Hiro shrugged, “we will never truly know. Boris did a number on an already ill child.” 
“The BBA is always here for you when you need it.” 
Hiro gifted him a warm smile, “Thanks Stanley, that means a lot. To me and also Brooklyn.”
On the other side of the room, Max and Ray hung out by the buffet table, finally full they sipped some juice out of plastic containers. 
“Isn’t this a party.” Ray mouthed the words into the juice cup while glaring at Brooklyn talking to the White Tigers. 
“You jealous he’s talking to Miriah? Just go over there and ask her to dance.”
Ray spluttered coughing up some of his juice, “Wha-? No! I’m just angry he’s really here in general-”
“Don’t lie Ray.” Max grinned. 
“Look- Look at all the people dancing Max, there’s no room and- Aren’t we spying on Tyson anyways?” 
“We can do two things at once.” Max took an elegant sip.
“Okay- How many people has Tyson danced with again?”
“Lost count again Ray? Keep up Buddy.” Max laughed while slapping him on the shoulder, causing Ray to again splutter his juice. 
Max surveyed the crowd, “a lot of people, but as predicted he’s been more flirty with the guys.” Max shrugged his shoulders with a know-it-all attitude. 
After Tyson inadvertently came out to Max and Ray the other day they decided it was their mission to help Tyson with his sexuality, a party with tons of dancing was the perfect opportunity.
“He was the most flirty with…” Ray trailed off trying to remember, suddenly concerned with the number of guys Tyson had danced with. 
“Oliver.” Max snapped his fingers.
“Yeah but Oliver’s already dating someone so he doesn’t count.” Ray rolled his eyes. 
“Wait what’s our goal here for tonight?” Max asked quizzically, knowing full well what they wanted to do. 
“To get him to kiss someone of course!” 
“Alright calm down it will be done by the end of the night.” 
Tyson was tired from dancing so much. He barely knew how to dance and yet tonight he felt like an expert. He went back to a table and grabbed his cup of punch gulping it down. He looked down at his outfit he chose, it was much different from what he would regularly wear, a little more revealing and mature, he liked it. 
Tyson was aware of the inner turmoil going on inside himself. Mentally he didn’t know where he belonged, he felt it before the BEGA championship and now he felt it bubbling over, so much that he accidentally got Ray and Max involved.
*Ah, damn it.*
Tyson just wanted to keep dancing, dancing and socializing was keeping his mind off everything.
*I’ve almost danced with everyone here though-*
“Hey Tyson! Dance with me?” Emily was blushing a bit when she asked.
“Yeah? A pretty girl like you? Of course.” Tyson cringed when he couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. 
He gently grasped her wrist and brought her to the clearing where everyone was dancing and without touching began to dance. 
“Dancing with the world champ, I wanted to do it once, while I had the opportunity.” Emily blushed a bit, mostly out of embarrassment, if anyone asked *not* admiration. 
“Well here you are.” Tyson grinned while grabbing both her hands and swinging them back and forth in an awkward yet cute dance. 
She giggled a bit, however was immediately interrupted by a deep sophisticated voice. 
“Tyson? Can I take you away from this pretty lady?”
Tyson turned his head, not expecting the shine of Brooklyn’s earring to catch his eye.
Tyson’s jaw dropped a bit, he could not vocalize an answer. 
Brooklyn placed a hand on his chest and made a slight bow, “may I have this dance?” 
Tyson directed his attention back to Emily who simply nodded and pointed his hands in Brooklyn’s direction. 
Brooklyn grasped his hand and waist in a very formal way, Tyson wasn’t expecting it, he brushed it off as maybe being the only way he knew how to dance. 
“Nice to see you again Tyson.” 
Tyson grinned slightly, he looked *really* good. Tyson decided to start a conversation before the silence got weird. 
“Last time I saw you-”
“Things were weird.” 
“Yeah.” Tyson tried to laugh but it came out a bit high pitched for his liking. 
Brooklyn chuckled, but it came out more of a deep growl. 
Tyson bit his lip just a bit.
*Woah, okay, no- He might be the best looking guy here but he’s- Brooklyn.*
“Tyson? Are you alright?”
“Yeah! I-I’m fine. Are you um-”
“Just ask.” 
“Are you okay? Since the tournament I mean.”
“I’m alright. I wanted to talk to you Tyson, specifically to thank you.” 
Tyson tilted his head as a silent ‘why’? 
“You really helped me. You were the hand that took me out of that dark place, and although I have a long way to go, you started it, without you I would still be with Boris- or not, you know, here.”
Tyson blinked a few times.
“So, thank you Tyson, for saving me.” 
“You’re um- Welcome.” Tyson slowed his pace to gently move back and forth.
Brooklyn grasped his hand harder and pulled himself closer to Tyson.
“What can I do for you in return?” He grew a sly look on his face.
Tyson’s eyes grew wide.
*There’s no way he could know- No? No way? Unless he was talking to Hiro- No even Hiro doesn’t know-”
“Tyson?” 
“Y-Yeah?”
“You’re doing it again.” 
“Sorry…” Tyson mumbled looking down at their shoes. 
“You know…” Brooklyn took his hand off Tyson’s waist and placed a finger under Tyson’s chin forcing him to tilt his neck to look at him. 
Brooklyn took a deep breath and laid out his thoughts just barely above a whisper. 
“I kind of want to kiss you…” 
Tyson’s whole body turned to ice, no fire, no he turned into a ghost? The feelings his body were trying to signal his brain were all jumbled and he couldn’t figure out what to do, or what he wanted to do. 
“I-” 
“We could sneak out, just for a few minutes, if that’s what you want.” Brooklyn changed his entire demeanor instantly, trying to appeal to Tyson’s tastes.
It worked. 
“Yo what is going on over there?” Max whispered to Ray while spying on Tyson and Brooklyn across the room. 
“I’ve been wondering the exact same thing.” Ray mumbled in a worried tone. 
“I have mixed feelings about this…” Max put a hand over his mouth deep in thought. 
“I mean- Would it hurt? If he dated Brooklyn I mean?”
“Dating! Ray!” 
“I mean- Kai would be pissed but Brooklyn’s not exactly *evil* just…”
“Mentally ill? Unpredictable?” Max started listing at max speed. 
“Hey Max it’s not his fault he’s mentally ill. After working for Boris he must have suitcases of trauma.” 
“His special attack is called ‘King of Darkness attack.” Max rolled his eyes. 
“Okay, you got me there, but what are we going to *do* about it?” 
Max hovered in place thinking, unfortunately while they were thinking about it, Tyson and Brooklyn disappeared. 
“Ah fuck-” Ray stammered. 
“Like you said Ray, not like we could do anything about it.” 
“Tyson and Brooklyn though? I think I heard he was pissed at Hiro, could he be doing it to get back at him?” Ray pointed out with a worried expression. 
“We know Tyson he won’t do anything dangerous, if anything he will just experiment with Brooklyn maybe kiss a bit-”
“What.”
Ray and Max both turned on their heels to confront the familiar voice, their faces read fear, after all it was the one person they didn’t want to hear from. 
Kai stood there mouth agape for a few moments managing to pool together his thoughts.
“What. The. Fuck.”
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razorblade180 · 4 years
Text
interdimensional Dads 3
Jaune:Alright, you’re up Blue. Tell all about a world where we manage to get our Beacon crush. That’s how I know you aren’t lying when you say there’s magic in your Remnant again.
Jaune:Magic had nothing to do with it! It’s called time and life. Also I told her I was going to cut my hair and she felt appalled so I didn’t. She told me how much she loves it a little shaggy.
...
Jaune:What?
Jaune:(Did cutting my hair really change my life that much?) It’s nothing, continue.
Jaune:Okay? Well, where to start? I guess the magic is as good of a place as any. Not much on the surface has changed. The climate seems to be a bit more intense though. The gods are back as well, but no one knows exactly where.
Jaune:It’s not on any map?
Jaune:No, apparently it’s constantly changing. Those who get close to finding it usually get turned around by something. Even Oscar doesn’t know.
Jaune:Oscar is still himself? Oz didn’t take over?
Jaune:Why would be? We saved the world and he got to move on. Oscar does however still have all the memories and experience. Not to mention the one hell of a fighter. Though these days he prefers using all that knowledge for counciling.
Jaune:Good for him.
Jaune:He’s a therapist? Huh, yeah he’s definitely been through hell and back in all of our lives. I never really stop to think how crazy it all was.
Jaune:He’s also married to Penny.
Jaune:Penny is back!?
Jaune:Your world is kicking my world’s ass.
Jaune:It’s pretty wild for sure. Yet it feels vaguely normal. Most of my time is spent still doing huntsman work. I take bodyguard missions mostly these days since they normally aren’t as dangerous. Saving towns from grimm is something I have to leave to the others like Ruby. Weiss gets a little anxious otherwise; even more than the kids do these days.
Jaune:Now for the good part, gushing about your kids.
Jaune:*smiling* Nicholas and Summer Schnee, my little Twin Snowflakes. Both sixteen and quite the handful.
Jaune:You know of any of us needed to have twins, I’m glad it’s the one who married into wealth.
Jaune:Well you’re sorta right. However, Weiss was cut off for years until her father wrote her back into the family on his deathbed. So she’s become financially savvy from having to live in Argus for years. That includes the kids when they were little and even a pet dog. I’d like to think we’ve both grown up through the years but she’s definitely changed more than me.
Jaune:I think that might be true for all of us.
Jaune:Hehe, I got a feeling you’re right.
Jaune:Yeah my Weiss has gone through some shit and took it strides as well.
Jaune:Anyways, being rich is nice but we did pretty fine before it. Yeah we had to work constantly but it’s not like there wasn’t anybody we couldn’t ask for help. I say by far the craziest thing about my world is team RWBY is now a connected on the family tree and then some.
Jaune:Wait...that would mean- who married a Schnee besides you! Qrow married Winter and that’s it right!? Right!?
Jaune:*smiling* Is someone a little jealous of thinking about a world where Ruby married Whitley?
Jaune:...A little.
Jaune:I guess I can spare you those details then. Just know they’ve done some real good for Remnant.
Jaune:That, I didn’t doubt for a second. It’s just a little weird hearing she isn’t with me.
Jaune:You named your kids after Weiss’s grandfather and Ruby’s mom?
Jaune:Nick is the future heir and Summer got her name because....sigh
....
Jaune:It was the right thing to do.
The other’s didn’t probe that avenue any further. Without saying anything, they already knew.
Jaune:Ruby must really appreciate that.
Jaune:Yeah. She might not realize it but she shows a little bias to Summer because of it. Not that Nick particularly cares. I think he might enjoy not being on someone’s radar for once.
Jaune:Let me guess, Mr. Popular?
Jaune:President at combat school, runner up in regionals, gold in figure skating, future heir, master of promoting various events and hosting parties. Kid has it made, and yet...
Jaune:He doesn’t seem to be having fun? I think we might’ve found a similar thread between our kids.
Jaune:Makes sense. Nick has the same problem I still have sometimes.
Jaune:Overthinking?
Jaune:Taking the blow for others?
Jaune:Burdening himself for no reason.
Jaune:Yes....
Jaune:Oh...
Jaune:He’s the kind of kid who finds a way to finish work quickly so he can finish other work faster; in a never ending loop. All for the sake of making others lives easier. This also causes him to tunnel vision sometimes and not really ask what that person wanted in the first place. That, or he puts himself in a position where he doesn’t get to enjoy being a teenager. It’s partly the reason why Weiss and I don’t give him too much slack whenever he does something for the fun of it.
Jaune.Even in a time of peace, someone like him is taking a lot of responsibilities. Not sure if that’s an Arc thing or a Schnee thing.
Jaune:Trust me, it’s both. He seems to be handling it well though. Weiss really gets on him about taking time to just be himself. Honestly it feels like there’s a couple times he’s even trying to put on a face for us instead of cameras. Fortunately people like Valerie and Veronica seem to cut through that act.
Jaune:Oooh, lady friends?
Jaune:Valerie is Ren and Nora’s kid. He has a giant crush on her but I sort of think he tries too hard and should consider looking elsewhere.
Jaune:That’s ironic coming from you.
Jaune:That’s how you know it’s bad. Me, the guy who wrote a terrible song just to get a date to the dance. To be fair he’s not that bad but I feel like he’ll end crushing his confidence. I mean Veronica would be nice. Blake and Yang’s daughter has a thing for him that’s just as obvious for his crush on Val.
Jaune:(Huh, that’s two sets of different kids from the same parents now. I guess some relationships are harder to change than others.) Nick sounds like a fine young man. I bet things will workout. He seems bright.
Jaune:Yeah, I just hope nothing blows up in his face. As for Summer, she’s practically the spitting image of her mother except with my eyes and light blonde hair. She’s pretty timid and a really kind girl. Smart as a whip too! Definitely got that from her mom; as well as her singing.
Jaune:She performs?
Jaune:Yeah, Atlas loves her music. She has good range, learned guitar from yours truly, tops the charts sometimes in other kingdoms, and genuinely seems to enjoy the life of a singer.
Jaune:But she’s timid?
Jaune:Yeah. Off the stage, she tries to get by life like a background character, but still wants to hang around Nick who’s always in a spotlight! When she was younger she got into a incident with dust that severely injured her. Thankfully she lived but now Summer has several scars over her body that she can’t stand. Also...that wasn’t all she got. Scars are least of her problems. The dust mixed with her cells in unexpected ways.
Jaune:Over exposer, did she get some sort of chronic illness or deficiency?
Jaune:Honestly, we don’t know what to call it. Whenever she gets too cold, Summer changes. Her hair goes white, eyes look like mother, and her personality does a 180. More than that actually. It’s more like she’s been possessed and what’s nothing more to rule everything. We call it Shiva. We have it under control mostly after ten years of dealing with it but there’s still scares now and then. Whatever Shiva is, she’s strong and capable of terrible things. Thankfully no casualties yet, but plenty of close calls and extra scars for almost everyone involved. The mental strain it puts on Summer almost seems crippling. I...don’t really know what to do about it at this point. She’s been distant, and I feel like she isn’t telling me something.
Jaune:....
Jaune:Well...you haven’t lost anything yet right?
Jaune:Huh?
Jaune:Don’t look so bummed. Ten years and nothing too tragic to show for it. Maybe it’s luck, or everyone is way stronger than this problem after all. Including your daughter. Trust me, daughters are way stronger than what father’s give them credit for.
Jaune:Ha, you know he might be on to something with that. You heard my story. Yujin was keeping things together for a long time. That being said, they’re still our little angels and can only go so far. Eventually they’re gonna wish to see someone like their dear old dad to to lean on. That’s our job after all.
Jaune:Yep. You’ll figure it. Like you said, you’re not alone.
Jaune:I might have a daughter but I know a thing or two about distant kids. Take it a step at a time, and let them know you’re always there.
Jaune:...*smiles* Thanks guys.
Jaune:No problem!
Jaune:I wonder what’s up with those two right now? Probably training for their tournament no doubt.
xxxx
Training is putting it lightly. The cold Argus air is filled with smoke as a fire burns in the forest. Nick kneels with his sword stabbed int ground. His body trembles from exhaustion and sweat runs down his face while his hands still grip the blade handle til his palms bleed. Surrounding him is Apathy as pale as ghost with ghastly blue eyes that make them look like they’re right out of horror movie.
Though he’s tired, he manages to lift his head up and see his sister on her hands and knees, not as roughed up as him but more drained from the grimm. Summer looked at her brother with eyes that constantly flickered between shades of blue before turning the shade of their father’s. Summer fell forward, all motivation to move taken away.
Nick:You okay...?
Summer:Y-Yeah...thanks. Sorry.
Nick:Next time....we’ll bring Ruby just in case.
He found the strength to walk towards his sister and carried her on his back. The summoned Apathy keeping a certain range around them like a dome as he walked. Summer found whatever strength she had to raise her right hand up and snapped her fingers. A cool wind came off her finger tips and snuffed out flames before it got out of hand.
Summer:Can’t have this place burning down right?
Nick:You’re gonna get cold again.
Summer:She’s tired...and I’m spent. Even if she comes out, my body can’t move so...zzzzz
Nick:Sigh, saw that coming.
Nicholas walked as fast as his body let him. Abandoning both of their swords in favor or retrieving them later. They’d gotten lucky, the sun was out and he had handled the situation before Shiva could find her stride. Warm clothing also did its part.
He felt Summer shift around on his back and started moving faster. He hated this part.
Nick:I don’t wanna talk to you.
Shiva:That’s no way to treat family.
Nick:But an icicle to the leg is?
Shiva:How else was I supposed to slow you down? You’ve gotten stronger, dodging it the way you did. How unpleasant for me. I’ll aim higher next time, I’ll make sure not to rough up that money maker of yours though.
Nick:Next time I’ll throw you in the fire so you’ll be too tired to talk. Your days are numbered. It must be a pain dealing with me and trying to keep control. Sooner or later you won’t be able to do anything but lose until Summer snuffs you out. Then you’ll be nothing more than a bad dream.
Shiva:....Hmmm aha!
Shiva:I’ve decided then. I guess I’ll just have to kill you first before that happens.
A chill went down his spine as he could feel her ice cold breath hit his ear as she whispersed...
Shiva:Let’s see if I’ll be a bad dream them.
Nick looked over his shoulder and saw nothing but his sister’s sleeping face. Not a sign of anyone or anything else; just peaceful slumber. The boy continued walking in silence. He was still sweating, still trembling, but no longer from the cold. Exhaustion crumbled to adrenaline. He started going back to the sight of their training to grab his sword. After all, who knows what could happen on the way back?
Part 2
Start reading Twin Snoflakes?< Part subzero
86 notes · View notes
yakumtsaki · 4 years
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I taste just like ice cream, bitch I am so icy, heart cold like an ice queen, that's why they don't like me 🎵
-What the hell was that.
Traditionally I start Union updates with semi-relevant song lyrics.
-Why did you start an update at all.
Because it’s time, Shajar! I took a holy oath in my 2020 simming goals post to update Unions once a month, and I’m already a month late.
-But nothing interesting is happening. 
That’s never stopped me before. Now listen to Rico Nasty, cry some more about Sophie blowing you off, and shut up.
-Ugh please, I couldn’t be more over Sonia if I tried. I hardly ever texted her links to wedding pinterest boards and quizzes to determine if our parenting styles are compatible. 
Did she ever reply? 
-She did once and said ‘who dis’. Of course the letters unscrambled spell out ‘do wish’, meaning she did wish me to keep messaging her. I just don’t know where it all went wrong. 
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-Hey there, 17 year old girl, maybe you’ve had enough neat whiskey for the night? We’re actually running out of bottles. 
-Beat it, ponytail, I need to dull my pain. I’ve just been stabbed right in the gut by the love of my life. Just like my style idol and general role model, space opera fascist Kylo Ren.
Shaj I really hate seeing you like this, and not just because the red neon light is super unflattering on your complexion.
-You can fuck right off too, I was perfectly happy with my dads who hate me and my imbecile sister and my brother who might as well not exist, noogie-ing people all day AND night long, but you had to be all ‘OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER’. Life-ruining-moron. 
But I was totally right about you two hitting it off, I mean look how sad you are now that she dumped- yea never mind, that’s not a good argument.
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-Look what I can do even though I’ve had 46 whiskeys!! How you like me now, Sophie???
-You’re paying for all these broken glasses, I’m going to need your name and a credit card.
-Yes, fair enough, my name is Cyneswith Union-
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-I LOOK GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT
Yea, you really should eat something to soak up all the alcohol. And not to kick you when you’re down, but you should also disregard all those cliches about ~a smile being the most beautiful thing you can wear~ because MAN. Watch out Joaquin, there’s a new Joker on the prowl. 
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-So.. 20 lobsters thermidor and our most expensive appetizers?
-Aha.
-Would you mind settling your bill now?
-Of course not! My name is Cyneswith Union and this is the credit card my parents got me when I was 6 because we’re super duper best friends! I love my parents! They don’t care about their other daughter at all, even when their other daughter is going through a really hard time because she got the emotional equivalent of a lightsaber wound in the gut. You know what, let me also get 20 bottles of your most overpriced champagne to go with the lobsters.
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Feeling better?
-Well it’s hard to feel bad when you’re spending your parents’ money recklessly and with malice aforethought.
It sure is. Alright well, the sun is coming up, maybe we should head home.
-What’s the rush? What is going to happen if I don’t go home, my parents will get worried? LOL
God your life sucks. Ok let’s hit a couple more places.
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-Greetings. Welcome to our establishment. I am a human employee from this planet.
Great, nice to meet you.
-I just want there to be no doubt that I am indeed an earthling, born and raised under the earth’s exosphere and not above it.
Leave us alone.
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-And I’m the resident community lot sim with that one face template you hate! There must be one of us on every lot you visit!
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-And I am here in my revealing outfit to use the dance sphere and make everyone uncomfortable!
You’re actually pretty, I need to keep you in mind for after Don Oates takes a wrecking ball to our genetics, but yea, let’s bounce, Shajar.
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Time to visit the happiest place on earth, Deh'Javu Modern Art Museum, home to my favorite piece of art in any medium, The Toilet of Fire. Shove that Fountain up your ass, Duchamp. How we feeling, Shaj?
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-This trash can reminds of Sophie :( She used to go around town throwing money she stole from charities in trash cans and then send them riddles for where to find them :(
Enough with Sophie, we’ll find you someone better! Like..
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..your aunt! Get the hell out of here Brit Brit, you’re taking up townie space. 
-I won’t be long, Gunther’s amazing close-up portrait of my hair was rejected by the museum so I’m here to set this shithole on fire. 
In other words Gunther just painted a canvas black and called it a day?
-His art doesn’t cater to plebs. Yes, offense.
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Our old friend Ugly Teen Townie is here so finally we can have some fun. Shajar had gone almost 12 hours(!) without noogieing someone and I was starting to worry for her health.
-Yes, yes, I’m starting to feel like myself again..
Good for you, Shaj!
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-Hope you’ve made peace with your God, Ugly Teen Townie, this water balloon is filled with horse feces! 
-WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET HORSE SHIT
-I ordered it from some guy named Leod McGreggor.
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-How about a another joke, MuRRAY?
-What?!
-Now you say, ‘no, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes’. Say it!
-No, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes.
-What do you get when you cross a mentally-ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? Now you say ‘call the police, Gene!’
-Call the police, Gene!
-I'll tell you what you get..
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-YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE. HAHA oh man! Good stuff. 
Alright I’m starting to feel bad for Ugly Teen Townie, first he had to come to all the toddler birthday parties during the Victoria/Komei era and now this, he has suffered enough at this family’s hands. Time to go home, Shaj.
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-Not so fast!
Wow, the Countess and Mrs. Crumplebottom on the same lot, top 10 anime crossovers.
-I have been sent here by the Limp Dick Vamps United organization to recruit Shajar Union.
Ugh you people are still around? Haven’t heard of you losers since the Count wouldn’t let Victoria bang him, which I’m still annoyed about. 
-Indeed we are, and it’s clear Shajar is ready to join us, dedicating her life to evil deeds without romantic distractions. I have no idea what Crumplebottom is doing here.
-I’m here to recruit Shajar to my own organization, Bitter Sims Worldwide Alliance. We’re always on the lookout for new members who want to spread their misery to their fellow Sim. 
It sounds like it’d be more effective if you guys just merged your organizations.
-I will NEVER merge my organization with someone who displays her bosom like a common whore. 
-Eat a dick, Crumplebottom!
-MAKE ME, FANGTOOTH
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-Alright here I am, what the fuck do you want?
-Shajar, it is a pleasure to meet you! Ardent admirer of your work.
-What work, freakshow?
-Torturing everyone around you, what else!
-What? I don’t torture people around me, if anything they torture me.
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-Why don’t you talk to me about it?
-I’d rather not, you look like a bejeweled snowman.
-Look deep into my eyes, Shajar..
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-And now look deep into my razor sharp teeth..
-Ugh fine, let’s talk. 
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-Is that Victoria and Komei’s teen granddaughter hanging out with a vampire?
Yes it is Kennedy, keep it moving.
-God, wtf is wrong with this family. 
Nothing now that you’ve been removed from our social circle, go away! Just kidding, you’re an icon and I’m marrying you in at some point. 
-Hard pass. 
Your loss, hombre. 
-It definitely isn’t.
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-If I had known your turn on was vampires I would had set you two up!
STOP SETTING UP TEENS WITH ADULTS, LAKSHMI. And Shajar’s turn ons isn’t vampires, it’s fitness/fatness. Body positive queen. 
-Well, Shajar, you alphabetically listing all the people who have wronged you while I was trying to kill Crumplebottom telepathically has made for a very productive conversation. We’ll be in touch. 
-Thanks, Countess, it’s been real.
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Shajar!!! Who cares about Sophie when you might bag a hot, rich vamp??
-Meh.
I’m gonna need you to be more excited about this prospect because a vampire spouse might just be enough of a draw to beat the comedic factor of fucking Don Oates turning us into an unintentional uglacy and I’m doing whatever I can to avoid my fate.
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Ugh.
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UGH
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UGHHHHHHH
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LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO VICTORIA
-GET FUCKED, BROKEN FACED WEIRDO
God I miss you Vic 💔
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-Donnie-bear, not to be not-nice, but mopping your pee off my front lawn is not exactly what I pictured doing during this date.
This guy won’t even mop up his own piss, what a catch.
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Wow, manipulative much?? You are a piss piece of work, Donaldo.
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-Don’t think we forgot about you, you 10-nice-point disgrace!
-VICTOR NO
-GET THAT MOP READY
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-Finally, some peace and quiet.. Just me, alone with my broken heart, pondering my hopeless, loveless future..
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-💗💗💗OMG SIS THERE YOU ARE. DONNIE AND I MADE OUT!!! 💗💗💗 But then grandma’s ghost scared him into soiling himself. 
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-Good for grandma, hopefully next time she gives him a stroke. Now shut up and let’s eat in silence while I ponder my hopeless, loveless future.
-Okie dokie! 💗💗💗
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-Um, I think mine has vomit in it.
-Yea I did that, but it’s just whiskey and lobster, if anything it increased in value. 
-Awww thanks sis! 💗💗💗
-Stop patronizing me, you little bitch. God I want to poke your eye out with this chopstick so badly.
-I love you too Shaj! 💗💗💗
And I hate both of you. Where’s your brother, I haven’t paid attention to him in 3 days. 
-He went upstairs, I think he’s pusshurt we forgot his birthday LOL
IT’S HIS BIRTHDAY????
-Don’t feel bad, I forgot it too! 💗💗💗
GODDAMMIT. WULF! WULF WHERE ARE YOU
-I’m here, I just grew up and dare I say it could not have gone better! 
Really?? Finally some good news! Let me look upon you-
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HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
WULF WHAT THE FUCK
-I was Mozart musical genius boy but now I’m a sk8ter boi! Character development!
Ok this is the most iconic birthday look since Gunther grew up in the pirate costume, we’re obviously keeping it. 
-Great! And as if the fact I’m a Wyatt face template with 0 Jojo genes wasn’t enough to make me unelectable, I also rolled family! :D I’m doing everything I can to ensure I live that sweet motherlode spare life! 
Honestly you should had picked another outfit cause now that you’re dressed like this I unironically want you to win. Hoisted with your own petard.
49 notes · View notes
hailing-stars · 4 years
Text
febuwhump day one: lost -small miracles 
read on ao3
A cursed song played.
It screeched out from a plastic wand, and, even more cursed, Tony was singing along to the princess toy. Not out loud, of course, just in his head. He knew all the words. Hell, he even knew all the dance moves, all the steps and swings Elsa took as she belted impossible notes while building her ice castle.
He would’ve blamed Morgan, but Tony suspected most of the blame fell on Peter’s shoulders. Just a day earlier, he’d been singing at the top of his lungs, dancing around in the jet, making Morgan giggle and Tony blast the volume on the classic rock pumping through the plane’s speakers.
He smiled at the memory. It was just a day old, but it didn’t make it any less good.
Tony looked down when Morgan started tugging at the bottom of his shirt. She stared up at him, eyes wide, with a face full of fake innocence, the kind that let Tony know she was about to ask for something, or rather, kept asking for something.
“Please dad.”
“Come on, Mr. Stark,” added Peter. His eyes were also wide, and his brown hair stuck up behind a pair of black Micky ears. “Please.”
“No.”
“But – “
“It’s bad enough that I paid fifty dollars for two pairs of glorified headbands,” said Tony. “I don’t need to make myself look like even more of a fool.”
“Aww, dad, you’re ruining the atmosphere,” Morgan chimed in. She continued yanking at the bottom of his shirt.  
Tony resisted the urge to mock the atmosphere. The thousand screaming kids, who carried souvenirs that played even more cursed songs.
“Yeah, Mr. Stark. Have some Disney spirit.”
He looked at the kids. His kids. They were both there, both alive and breathing and well. They both wore ridiculous mistakes of the fashion industry on their heads, and they both were pulling their most convincing puppy dog eyes. He only lasted just a couple seconds longer about caving and handing his credit card to the cashier.
A third pair of Micky ears cost him another twenty-five dollars and a rush of humiliation once he put them on over his head and walked out of the souvenir shop, but the grins on Peter and Morgan’s faces were a memory he’d always have.
“Looks like the weather needs to get in the Disney spirit,” said Tony, looking up and around at the clouds that had rolled in while they were in the shop.
The sky was grey. No trace of sunlight anywhere. A breeze blew through their hair, bring a chill with it, one that made any of the water attractions unthinkable.
The kids didn’t seem to notice, though. If they did, they didn’t care. Morgan was too busy naming all the Disney characters she wanted to meet, and Peter was too busy trying to find their location on the map as she listed them off.
Tony didn’t know if he should be concerned that most of the ones she wanted pictures with were villains. Later, he’d ask Pepper. Some SI emergency had her back in the hotel suit, dulling out her wisdom and orders via Skype.
“Ok, umm,” said Peter, sliding his finger across the map. “If we start here, we should be able to get pictures with all of them.”
“You sure, Pete?” asked Tony. “Meeting them all might take the day. This is your vacation, too.”
“It’s okay,” he said, with a smile. He folded up the map and slid it into his back pocket. “We still have tomorrow to see all the Star Wars stuff and go on rides.”
Morgan gave an excited little jump, and Tony clapped Peter on the shoulder, wondering how he’d gotten lucky enough to have two perfect kids.
They spent the day taking pictures with Disney characters and going on the occasional ride, and ended it with room service in their suite, with Morgan showing off her pictures to Pepper. She painted gold sparkles on Peter’s Micky ears while she told her mom all about how the Evil Queen was really just misunderstood and while Peter texted Michelle.
Or, probably.
He was probably texting Michelle. He had that goofy smile on his face only she could be responsible for.
Tony smiled and put his metal arm around his wife. It didn’t really matter to him he was missing his real arm. After the war, after Thanos was destroyed and the lost were brought back, Tony had never felt so whole, so content.
He should have known it wouldn’t last forever.
*
Their second day at Disney World started the same as their first, right down to Pepper explaining that she’d be spending the day in the suite, once again, trying to put out fires at SI. She pushed him and the kids out the door, assuring him everything was fine and that he should enjoy the day, that there was nothing he could do.
“Alright,” said Tony, after Pepper pulled the door shut behind them. “What’s the plan today?”
“Star Wars,” was Peter’s immediate answer.
“Star Wars it is.”
“Yes!” Morgan leaped and did fighting poses as she glided down the hallway, towards the elevator. “I’m gonna get a lightsaber!”
“Volume, little miss,” Tony told her, looking around at all the closed hotel room doors. “And no hitting anybody with it, once you have it.”
“We’ll see!” said Morgan, in a sing-song voice. She darted into the elevator as the doors opened.
Peter laughed as he pressed the button to the lobby. “Don’t worry, Mo. We’ll have epic lightsaber battles on the plane ride home.”
“YEAH!”
Tony grunted, hoping to come off like he hated the idea when actually he didn’t mind it. Anything to prevent another sing-along, dance-along, that got yet another Disney song stuck in his head.
*
Peter’s head was buried behind the Disney map, only the Mickey Ears he still insisted on wearing were visible. He was the very definition of nerd then, at the moment, standing on a crowded path at Disney World, wearing a shirt that described various sounds of the weapons in Star Wars.
Tony hoped he never changed.
He could stay like that forever, seventeen and content to spend a week humoring his little sister, but Tony knew he wouldn’t. Time marched on, even now that everything was perfect, even now that Tony was retired and had nothing to look forward to except living in the moment, every moment, as they happened.
Peter closed the map. “It’s over that way… just let me run to the bathroom real fast, Mr. Stark.”
Come to think of it, that could change.
Peter could drop the formality and start calling him by his first name. It was a fool’s errand to even suggest it.
There were only a handful of occasions Peter slipped up and called him Tony, every one of them were he was distressed, like that time he was delirious with the flu, or the last time, after Tony had snapped Thanos and his army away and Peter had been sure Tony was dying.
Peter disappeared into the bathroom, and Tony grabbed Morgan’s hand and guided her towards a nearby bench, preventing her from running after some other kid who’d already gotten a lightsaber.
Five minutes passed. Tony checked the time on his phone, mentally cursing Peter’s questionable food choices.
Ten minutes passed and Tony’s leg started to bounce. He shouldn’t be worry. There was nothing to worry about, and even if Peter was on the floor of a bathroom stall, getting violently ill from something he ate, he wouldn’t appreciate being checked up on in the bathroom.
He pushed down his paranoid parental instinct, his nagging anxiety that something was wrong, or at least, he held it back as long as he could.
Fifteen minutes passed and Tony no longer cared what a seventeen-year-old would find embarrassing. He stood up from the bench, grabbed Morgan’s hand, and marched off towards the bathroom.
“Eww, no dad,” said Morgan, stopping when saw she was being tugged towards the men’s room. “Boys are gross, and they smell. I can’t go in there.”
A point was made, but Tony couldn’t stand the thought of letting go of one child when he was terrified something had happened to the other. He lifted her into his arms, told her put her head down in his shoulder and close her eyes, then walked into the men’s room, noting that Morgan had been right.
It did smell, despite being soul-crushingly empty, besides a kid standing at the sink washing his hands.
“Peter?” asked Tony, looking around.
There wasn’t a response. He didn’t know why he thought there would be. All the stall doors were open and there weren’t any feet visible under any of them.
“Hey,” said Tony, getting the kid’s attention. He turned off the facet and looked at Tony. “Seen a teenager in here? He had on some nerdy Star Wars shirt and Mickey ears?”
The boy shook his head and hurried out of the bathroom, forgetting to dry his dripping wet hands.
Tony’s heartbeat pumped through his ears. His eyes raced around the small bathroom, as his brain tried and failed to come up with explanations to where Peter could have gone. Panic and paranoia, along with the truth that Peter was too polite and considerate to simply run off without telling him, took over and dread twisted a tight knot his belly.
For the second time, Peter Parker had disappeared into thin air, and Tony had done nothing to prevent it.
*
Tony sat in a tiny, hot room, between two sweaty men who hadn’t bothered with deodorant. His legs were shoved under a tiny wooden table, his back was hunched forward, and his eyes were glued to the security monitor.
He watched as Peter left him and Morgan by a bench on a pathway and disappeared into the bathroom. After that, there was nothing. No sign of Peter leaving the bathroom, no sign of Peter at all. Tony sped up the footage, rewound and played it again, only to see it play out in the exact same way.
A low shakily breath escaped Tony and both his hands flew up to grip the table. Not again. This couldn’t be happening again. Not to Peter, not to his kid. Thanos was gone. The world was set right, or had been, up until the very Peter had wandered into the bathroom and didn’t come back out.
Tony’s world would never be okay with Peter Parker in it, even if the rest of the world spun on without a blip. That was the thing about saving the world, he supposed, it always needed saving.
There was always someone out there, waiting and watching and wanting to cause harm in one way or another. Whoever it was this time really messed with the wrong retired Avenger. They took the wrong kid.
He’d get him back. Tony couldn’t imagine a future where he didn’t get Peter back. The world, the universe, would simply cease to be.
Tony left the security guards in their sauna and set out to find Peter’s phone. A quick look at the tracking software on his own led him to the opposite side of the park, where he saw Peter’s cellphone in a patch of grass under a sign.
Carefully, he picked it up and rubbed his thumb over the freshly cracked screen.
“Really, kid? Again?” asked Tony. He examined the third phone Peter had ruined that month. “You’d think someone with sticky fingers would have a better grip.”
Peter laughed and shrugged. “Maybe I just like the aesthetic better that way.”
Tony blinked away the memory and shook his head, looking forward to finding Peter so he could buy him another phone and, probably, many more after that.
“Where are you, Pete?” asked Tony, as if he expected the phone might answer.
It didn’t, of course, and as the day wore on, Tony was beginning to worry he might never get his answer, might never had the chance to berate the boy about cellphone responsibility ever again.
At some point, Disney security notified the police, who arrived to take Tony’s statement and start a search party. It yielded nothing, except panic and chaos and concerned parents leaving the park early with fears that someone dangerous might be lurking about.
Pepper called May and Happy, and Tony put out a distress call to the Avengers, though he refused to go back up to the suite with Pepper and Morgan to sit around and wait.
Instead he wandered around the darkened, abandoned Disney pathways, clutching Peter’s broken phone in a tight fist and wishing the day had ended the way it had been supposed to end, with epic lightsaber duels and laughing.
Now all he had were echoes of what was supposed to be.
*
Disney World was eerie at night.
Tony couldn’t quite pinpoint why, exactly. Most likely it was a combination of things. The silence, the lack of little kids with capes and princess wands running around, screaming, the lack of his own family surrounding him.
It was dark and empty and cold, devoid of any charm or warmth.
It reminded Tony of the way the world looked and felt after he’d made it back from space and witnessed the greater devastation Thanos’ snap had caused. Maybe that was just him, though. Maybe that was just the effect of Peter Parker’s mysterious absence had on his onlook.
That’s what kept him going, kept him searching. Peter had to be out there somewhere. Tony wouldn’t consider any other option.
He shook his head and checked his watch, muttering under his breath about the Avengers being so late. Cap had turned into an old man and suddenly everyone else became slow.
“Mr. Stark.”
Tony startled, and jerked his eyes away from his watch. He looked around but didn’t see anything.
“Mr. Stark! Up h-here!” Peter’s cry was desperate and panicked but filled kindled warmth within Tony’s chest. He found him. He found his boy and he was alive.
He looked up and spotted Peter hanging off the edge of a ride, clinging to its tracks. His legs wiggled around in the air as he struggled to keep his grip.
“Pete,” yelled Tony, frowning. Something was off. “Stop struggling, just stick and climb down.”
“I c-can’t,” said Peter. “Please, Mr. Stark, you have to help me. I don’t know – I don’t know what’s happening, my powers – I lost th – I can’t – “
Tony rushed forward when Peter’s fingers slipped off the metal and he dropped to the ground below. His head smacked against the concrete and blood oozed out from his forehead, matting his hair together
Tony rushed forward, but before he could get there, before he could even think about calling a suit, Peter’s fingers slipped off the metal track and he dropped to the concrete below. Peter’s head smacked against the ground and blood oozed out from his forehead, matting his hair together and stabbing at Tony’s heart.
“Peter, oh god, Pete!” Tony sunk to the ground near Peter’s limp body. He stretched out a hand, needing to provide some sort of comfort, needing to provide his kid with something, but was stopped dead when Peter fixed him with an empty, sad stare.
“Too late, Mr. Stark,” he croaked out. Blood continued to pour out from his head. “Why are you always too late?”
His eyes fluttered close. His chest stopped moving, then, just like that, his lifeless body faded away and nothing was left of Peter Parker. Not ashes, not even his blood. Tony pressed his palm up against the concrete where it had been stained red. His hand came back clean.
He stared at it, flexing his palm, in utter confusion and shock, until the edges of his vision started to blur. The Disney pathways, the rides, all the bright colors, disappeared and it was just Tony, sitting in a sea of blackness.
Slowly and carefully, he stood and looked around at all the nothing, the darkness that stretched as far as he could see.
The sound of Peter screaming broke the silence.
Tony broke into a run. His feet propelled him forward through the black, towards the gut-wrenching sounds of Peter’s pained, desperate cries. Eventually Tony came upon a light, which turned into, once he got closer, a room with a large, glass window.
Inside the room Peter was strapped down on a medical, while men in white coats hovered around him, poking him with needles.
“Hey! Let him go!” Tony yelled. Nobody seemed to hear him. He took a step forward, ready to beat his fist against the glass until it broke, but an eerily familiar voice stopped him.
“Stark.” The man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere sounded like Ross. Though his face was still familiar, Tony couldn’t place it. “No use trying to save him now.”
Tony redirected his attention into the room. Peter had stopped screaming. Whatever they had been injecting him with had killed him.
“Don’t look so shocked,” said the man. “Did you really think you could hide him from me forever?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off Peter’s dead body. He couldn’t make his mouth form words.
“Did you really think this all this would end any other way than his death?”
Tony swung his fist into the glass and it went straight through. The glass dissolved into nothing, into the darkness, at his touch, along with anything else. Gone was Ross-voiced man, gone was the white-coated scientists, gone was Peter’s corpse…
Then, once again, it was just Tony and the black. There was no screaming that time, just silence. No running, now that Tony didn’t have a reason to move.
That didn’t matter, though. The trouble came to him instead.
Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson appeared out of the darkness. In Bucky’s arms, limp and lifeless, was Spider-Man sans mask.
“We’re sorry, man,” Sam told Tony. “There was nothing we could do.”
“That’s bullshit,” the words fell from Tony’s mouth, but it was as if someone else were saying them, as if he were watching from someone else above. “You were supposed to watch out for him! You were supposed to keep him safe!”
“Oh, please, Stark.”
Tony turned and he was in the Parker living room, only dimmer and less inviting. May Parker stood in front of him, glaring at him.
“Like you should talk,” said May. “You killed him the day you walked into his apartment and recruited him for your little war. He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you dragging him into it. I hope you’re proud of yourself, Mr. Stark.”
She grabbed an ern, Peter’s ern Tony realized, and walked towards him. “Take him. You had no problem taking him from me when he was alive.”
May shoved the ern into Tony’s arms, but at contact, it turned to dust and slipped through his fingers, the same way Peter had slipped through his fingers back on Titan.
May and her apartment faded away and Tony was thrown back into the darkness.
It wasn’t all black that time, at least not for very long, as Tony was assaulted with flashes of his worst nightmare over and over again. Peter in a dark alleyway getting stabbed through the stomach. Peter getting crushed by a building. Peter getting electrocuted until his face was blue and foam bubbled from his mouth.
Peter drowning in a cold lake, pounding on the ice that separated them, and staring up at Tony with pleading eyes, begging for his help. Tony didn’t move. He didn’t stomp on the ice or try getting him out. It didn’t matter what Tony did.
The story ended the same each time, with Peter’s death.
Peter went still, sunk away from the ice and disappeared into the water’s depths. His hand was still, too, but it remained outstretched, as if he were still waiting for Tony to grab onto him and lift him to safety.
Tony watched him float away, until he couldn’t see him anymore, until he was staring at s concrete Disney pathway that had once been red with Peter’s blood.
He breathed hard and looked around, wondering what the hell kind of acid trip he’d just lived through. His brained race with just one thought. Peter. Was he alive, or dead? He needed to see him, touch him.
He needed to know he was still breathing. That he was real.
“Daddy?”
Tony turned and saw Morgan standing still behind him, watching him. Her hair was crumpled and caked with dried blood.
“Morgan?” asked Tony. His voice had a shake. “What happened to you? Where’s mom?”
She didn’t have an answer for him. Just a stare, one Tony had always feared he’d receive from Morgan. She looked at him the same way he’d learned to look at his own father as a boy.  
“Why didn’t you save him?” she asked. “Why do you keep letting him die?”
“Morgan – “
“You let Peter die! You killed Peter!” she yelled. She turned, and ran, forcing Tony to run after her.
He followed her off the main pathways and through some grass. She finally stopped her sprint when she got to the edge of a body of water. She turned around and Tony reached out his hand, only for her to turn into dust and blow away with a breeze.
Water from the lake ran over Tony’s shoes, bring with it a pair of Mickey ears he was compelled to pick up. As he examined them and the gold fingernail polish painted onto them, gears turned behind his eyes.
He thought back to the Ross-voiced man with a familiar face, finally realizing how he recognized him. He pulled his phone from his pocket, keeping his eyes on the abandoned building across the lake, and dialed Pepper.
She answered on the first ring.
“Tony – “
“Is Morgan with you?”
“Yeah, of course,” she told him. “Where else would she be?”
Tony felt a warm blanket of relief cover his body. “Tell me what’s going on a SI.”
“Right now?” asked Pepper. She sounded surprised, but went on anyway. “Someone broke in, stole some technology. We’ve been trying to figure out how they breached security and track down what’s missing.”
“What technology?” he asked, though he thought he probably already knew.
“BARF.”
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Tony hang up before Pepper could say anything else. He didn’t have the time to waste. He had a deranged man to bury and a son to rescue.
*
“Come on, Mr. Stark, hurry up,” muttered Peter, twisting his wrist around in the handcuffs that had them locked together. His skin was red and itchy underneath, and that bothered him more than the glass cage he was locked in.
He stretched out his legs and gave the glass a good, strong kick. It didn’t break. Not even a little bit, not even by a tiny crack. Without thinking, he tried, not for the first time, to pull his hands apart, only to growl in frustration and drop his hands into his lap.
This whole thing, this whole being handcuffed and locked away in a dark, damp building, wasn’t how Peter wanted to spend his day. Plus it was dramatic. It was overkill and a little redundant.
Mysterio – as Peter had nicknamed him – had only rolled his eyes and chuckled a little after he’d told himself, after he’d asked him to either let him out of the glass prison or loosen the handcuffs.
He supposed dramatic and overkill were good ways to describe his captor. He wore a costume as if he were an actor on the set of a CGI heavy movie, and he spoke like there was an audience watching.
Regardless, Peter popped his head up when Mysterio strode back into the room.
“Hey, you’re back,” said Peter. He scrambled to his feet, stumbled around a little bit as the task of standing was made difficult with complete use of his hands, and stood at the edge of his cage. “You didn’t bring me any food? That’s rude.”  
A strange, unsettling smirk split Mysterio’s face as he stopped, turned, and slowly approached. “You know, you’re a good kid, Peter. I almost feel bad about this.”
“You know,” said Peter. “I’ve actually heard that one before. It’s a little cliché.”
“It’s just too bad you got mixed up with someone like Tony Stark,” Mysterio told him. His voice squeaked as he struggled to turn an oversized facet.  
“Too bad for you, actually,” Peter frowned, both unimpressed by his complete lack of physical strength and trying to figure out what it was he was attempting to do. Peter had a bad feeling, but he also had Mr. Stark’s words of advice floating around in his head, given in case he ever found himself in a situation like this one.
Keep them talking. Distract and stall.
“I feel sorry for you.”
Mysterio stopped his struggle, looked back at Peter, and snorted. “Why? Because the self-destructing cycle of revenge only leads to the dark side?”
A villain making fun of his shirt. That was a first, but Mysterio wasn’t technically wrong.
His vendetta against Mr. Stark was both insane and self-destructive and couldn’t end well for him. It was embarrassing sometimes, the extremes Mr. Stark would go to when someone was threatening his kids, though Peter was thankful for it during times like these.
“No,” said Peter. “Because Mr. Stark’s going to beat the shit out of you.”
“Maybe,” said Mysterio. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”
“You’re pretty confident for a guy who can’t turn… whatever it is you’re trying to turn.”
Mysterio chuckled, his hand still on the oversized facet. “Imagine Peter, seeing your loved die over and over again and not doing anything to stop it. Imagine what it might do to a person and the guilt they’d feel knowing they did nothing to save them… guilt like that, it’d ruin a man, or at least, a man like Tony Stark.”
The facet groaned when Mysterio finally gathered up enough strength to turn it and Peter felt the floor beneath him shake. Water seeped in from the slits on the floor, quickly covering the area of the glass cage and soaking into Peter’s shoes.
A shiver went through him, and Peter was about complain at Mysterio, about to tell him he could’ve at least used room temperature water if he was going to try and drown him, but he was cut off by a deafening boom. Wood shattered on the wall to the left of them, and Mr. Stark stepped into the room.
His regular hand, the one that wasn’t metal, was covered in armor. The gauntlet water, Peter guessed.
“Mr. Stark…” said Peter, his voice both filled with relief and with a tremor. The water was rising fast, so cold that it stabbed at Peter’s legs like knives. “Perfect timing.”
Mr. Stark didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he stared straight at Mysterio.
“Hi crazy eyes,” greeted Mr. Stark. “Having fun with my tech?”
“It’s – “
Mr. Stark waved a hand at him. “Know what? No. Whatever you have to said isn’t anything we all haven’t heard before. You can cut your villain monologue shit too, just tell me where my kid is so I can blast you into that wall.”
“He’s right there,” said Mysterio. He pointed to the cage, to Peter, but Mr. Stark refused to look.
“Mr. Stark,” said Peter, a second time. It didn’t change anything. Mr. Stark kept his eyes on Mysterio, and for the first time that day, Peter started to worry. His legs were numb, the water had risen to his waist.
“Not falling for it,” said Mr. Stark. “Where’s Peter? Don’t make me ask again. You’ll regret it.” Mr. Stark paused, amended. “Well let’s face you’re going to regret this either way.”
“It’s m-me,” said Peter, quietly, his teeth chattering. Either of the men in the room heard him, and he doubted it would matter if they did.  
He wracked his brain for something, anything, like some sort of secret passage word Mr. Stark would understand, would have to realize he wasn’t an imposter. It was hard to think, though, with the water knifing him, with his breath coming so fast.
“Mr. Stark!” Peter shouted that time, he ignored the ache in his wrists and brought both hands up against the glass. It didn’t break. “It’s me, it’s Peter, help!”
Finally, at last, Mr. stark spared him a look, but the relief Peter felt was short-lived. It died out when he saw the look in his eyes. Mr. Stark had never looked at him that way before. Not even during the regrettable ferry incident. Like he was scum. Worse than scum. Like he was Mysterio.  
The stare had been colder than the water. Peter went still, went quiet, and Mr. Stark looked back at Mysterio. The water rose up to the bottom of Peter’s neck.
“If that were really Peter,” said Mr. Stark, taking steps closer to Mysterio, who started to back up. “He’d broken that glass to bits.”
“I can’t!” Peter shouted. Mr. Stark ignored him. “I c-can’t! I - I lost my powers!”
“That’s a nice try, Beck. A+ for the dramatics, but word of advice, never try to pull the same trick twice.”
Peter gave the glass a kick as the water hit his chin, kicked it again when his nose went under, and a third time when he was completely submerged.
He opened his eyes under the water. Mr. Stark had a hold of Mysterio’s shirt and punched him across his face with the prosthetic hand. At least Peter had been right about one thing. Mysterio would be very lucky to leave Disney World with all his teeth.
It didn’t seem to matter, though.
Peter was dying, drowning, with Mr. Stark standing just a few feet away, and it didn’t matter how many punches, how badly he beat Mysterio, Peter knew if he died, died this way, it’d be a blow Mr. Stark might never recover from.
He’d be wrecked with guilt, just as Mysterio said, and Peter wasn’t going to let that happen.
He pushed up off the floor, as hard as he could, and thrust his head above the water.
“T-tony!” Peter managed to yell out, water spilling into his mouth as he sunk back down.
Mr. Stark whirled around. His eyes went wide when he looked at him, really looked at him, with warmth and worry. His eyes were completely absent of the previous coldness. He dropped Mysterio, who hit the ground hard, stretched out his arm and pointed his palm at the glass cage.
There was a beam light, then Peter was sliding down to the floor with the water. Shards of glass landed around him and Mr. Stark ran towards him. He immediately pulled Peter up into his arms, covering the side of Peter’s head with his hand and slamming it up against his chest.
Peter relished the warmth he stole from Mr. Stark and the air traveling freely through his lungs.
“God, kid,” said Mr. Stark. He swiped a mop of freezing, wet hair from Peter’s forehead, as he shivered under his arms. “I’m sorry. I – I didn’t think you were real.”
“’t’s ‘kay,” said Peter, still breathing hard as he tried to speak. “You got me, I’m okay.”
He’d hoped his words might comfort him, but Mr. Stark shushed him and told him to focus on getting good breaths. He got a few more breaths in before repeating himself again, attempting to calm Mr. Stark’s heart as it hammered away in his chest.
“It’s alright,” Peter breathed. “I’m real, you got me.”  
*
Tony walked into Peter’s room, carrying a plate full of corndogs and an entire bottle of mustard.
Peter had been standing by the window, but when he turned and saw he was coming, he scurried back to his bed and under the heated blanket, as if he thought doing it quickly would change the fact that Tony saw him at all.
“I had one condition for not taking you straight to the hospital,” Tony told him. “One.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Mr. Stark, I’m fine.”
It was truer than it wasn’t. Peter was fine. His powers were back. He was breathing and warm and real, but it was Tony’s job to make sure it stayed that way. That Peter stayed under his blankets and fully recovered in time to enjoy Star Wars in the morning.
The same couldn’t be said about Quentin Beck. He’d been carted onto the Quinjet after the Avengers decided to show up and was probably, at least Tony hoped, locked away on the raft.
“We really gotta move past this Mr. Stark business,” said Tony. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Peter shift around under the covers, trying to get comfortable.
“But then we’d have to think of another password.”
Tony handed him the plate and the bottle of mustard. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be easy enough. Something like ‘corndogs are disgusting.’”
“That’s uncalled for,” said Peter. He squeezed an ungodly amount of mustard all over his food, then had the audacity to lift one up by the stick and put it in Tony’s face. “Wanna try one?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re missing out,” he told him, as he chomped down on the corndog Tony rejected. “It’s tradition. I always have corndogs after I almost die, or a mission goes wrong.”
Almost dying shouldn’t be normal for him, should not in any way have its own traditions, and yet, it was and it did.
That wasn’t Tony’s fault. He may have recruited him into the Avenger’s, but he hadn’t been there when Peter decided to put on his pajamas and fight crime in his backyard.
All it took for him to realize how ridiculous it was to think Peter would ever do anything than try to world the world, or at least his neighborhood, was a series of illusions from a deranged, pretend wizard.
“We need to get you a more sophisticated palate.”
“What like cheeseburgers?”
“Hey,” said Tony. He gave Peter’s shoulder a little push, needing to feel that he was real, that he was really there. “Don’t knock the classics.”
Peter laughed and threw an empty corndog stick at him.  
“I changed my mind,” said Tony. “No Star Wars tomorrow.”
Peter only laughed again in response. He damn well knew Tony would keep his promise and take him to the Star Wars part of the park. That he would take him anywhere if only he asked. He supposed that was his problem now. Two spoiled kids, two miracles, and a long retirement with plenty of time to spoil them.
*
When morning came, Peter was as good as new and spent their entire breakfaster together fidgeting around, rushing everyone and playing on his phone.
Tony couldn’t say he blamed him for being angsty. One day in a glass cage, missing out on the Star Wars adventure he’d been promised, would make anyone eager to start the day.
They made up for it, though, eventually.
They saw everything, rode every ride. Tony and Pepper were forced to sit behind the kids on most rides, unless they wanted Morgan to loudly call them out when they were being what she considered gross and exchanging kisses.
Tony liked it better that way. He got to watch his kids, watch Morgan smile, laugh, scream and cling to Peter. He got to watch and listen to Peter console her during the few moments she was afraid.
“Don’t worry, Mo,” he told her, as the cart crawled up the hill. “I’m sticky. I can’t let you go.”
When the cart, dropped, sped down the incline, all Tony saw in front of him was Peter’s curls, thicker and wilder in the Florida humidity, blowing through the air.
It was a good day, a perfect day. One to erase all the panic and chaos and anxiety of the day that had come before, as if it’d never happened. As if it was all one big illusion, like a nightmare they woke up from and forgotten by breakfast.
The day ended with buying Morgan a lightsaber and watching her go through the Jedi Academy. Tony stood off to the side, with Peter, and with the other parents, with his phone ready to record Morgan’s duel with Darth Vader, but that wasn’t how it played out.
Instead of hitting Darth Vader with the lightsaber, Morgan kneeled down and declared her allegiance to the dark side of the force. She was meet with a roar laughing and cheering and clapping from the onlookers.
Tony kept his phone steady and pointed at Morgan, but turned his body towards Pepper and asked, “Should we be worried about her?”
“She’s your daughter,” said Pepper. “We should always be worried about her.”
Peter erupted into laughter and bothered Tony the rest of the day to send the video to his phone, so he could text it to MJ and Ned.
That day was supposed to be where the vacation ended, but like everything else, that hadn’t gone according to plan, either. Peter was to blame. He forced them all to watch Harry Potter in the hotel room, and the next thing Tony knew, he was buying tickets to Universal and standing in a Wizard’s clothing store, pretending to be a sorting hat.
“Peter is without a doubt a Hufflepuff,” he said, yanking a pair of Hufflepuff house robes off a rack, and seeing as how there was no other option for a boy like Peter, he accepted with a smile and a nod.
Tony sorted Pepper into Ravenclaw and himself in Gryffindor, leaving just the youngest. His hand hovered between shelves, then moved towards a set of Slytherin children’s robes.
“You went to the dark side,” Tony told Morgan, dropping the robes into her hands. “You’re getting green.”
“Aw, dad,” said Morgan. “I only went to the dark side so Vader would let his guard down around me and then I could wait until he fell asleep and chop him up with my lightsaber.”
Tony, Pepper and Peter paused, the three of them trading looks.
“…ok,” said Tony, after a beat. He clapped his hands together. “You’re still getting the green.”
Morgan shrugged. “MJ always says you gotta keep your enemies close.”
“That doesn’t say great things about your relationship, kid.” Tony clapped Peter on the shoulder and headed towards the check-out counter.
“Guess what dad?” asked Morgan. She did an excited jump and didn’t wait for him to guess. “Peter and MJ kiss!”
“Morgan!” whined Peter.
“Oh really?” asked Tony, giving Peter a smirk, watching his ears go pink.
“Yeah! I saw them during Aunt May and Uncle Happy’s wedding, behind Gerald’s house. They gave me candy to go away and keep it a secret.”
“Which technically you should give back now!”
“Too late,” said Morgan. “Already gone.”
Peter growled under his breath and Tony put his arm around him. “Relax kid, everyone already knows you two kiss. Even Gerald.”
Tony paid for their robes, which they all put on immediately, before heading out of the shop and into the cobblestoned streets of Diagon Alley. Tony stretched his arm around Peter, while he continued to grumble about lack of privacy and snitches while Morgan mocked him.  
It was another beautiful day, a perfect day to be dressed like a wizard with his family, and the future stretched on with the promise of many more.  
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dashesofink · 4 years
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Philia
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Drabble: “hey~ could you please do an imagine, where klaus goes to like a mental health clinic for his ptsd and there he meets a girl who’s like 18/19 (with depression & social anxiety; but if you don’t want to specify that’s totally fine too!!) and they get pretty close during their time there? and he becomes really protective of her and stuff? i hope this is okay😅 thank you!!🖤”
Pairings: Klaus Hargreeves x platonic!Reader
Word Count: 1268
Warnings: mentions mental illnesses
A/N: Philia (/ˈfɪliə/; Ancient Greek: φιλία), often translated "brotherly love” ... philia is usually translated as "friendship" or affection.
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You knew that the clinic was supposed to help you. But if anything, you felt as if everything was getting worse. The meetings were boring, and the exercises were useless. Your supposed ‘social interactions’ felt more like forced parties that only added on to the stress and anxiety that built up in your body. You truly hated it there, you could feel yourself slipping away into another bottomless pit. But do it for your family, right? For the ones who care about you? At least you thought they cared about you. You hadn’t talked to your family and so-called friends in months. No one checked up on you. And it hurt.
You had trouble making friends, even here at the clinic that housed more ‘people like you’. You still found yourself shying away from people, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with the edge of your sweater. You felt pathetic. But it was who you were. And apparently nothing could change that. Except for him, maybe.
When he first arrived at the clinic, even the nurses and orderly were skeptical of him. He had, apparently, been admitted to many different clinics and programs to help him with addictions and other illnesses, and yet each time he would leave he would fall back into the same old routine. This time was different. He wasn’t here for his alcoholism or his drug addictions. No. He was here for PTSD. At least, that’s what some of the other patients were saying. He was an odd fellow, that much was certain, but he interested you.
From the few times you watched him, which you unfortunately found yourself doing, you noticed the big black lettering tattooed across his palms. An odd place for tattoos, but who are you to judge. His curly brown hair was always a mess, flopping against his forehead as he shuffled through the seemingly never ending hallways of the clinic. You could tell that at one point his green eyes were bright with life and mischief. And even though there was still a hint of playfulness in his gaze, it was barely there. Whatever had happened to him had damaged him severely. And you couldn’t help but frown at the thought.
For you it was normal, to wait weeks on end before finally trying to introduce yourself to somebody. And that was if you wanted to introduce yourself. But this time you truly did. You heart was hammering in your chest no less, but you still forced yourself to make your way over to him. Klaus was his name. Luckily for you you had heard an orderly talking about him. The man in question didn’t even hear you sneak up behind him, as the playing cards in his hands seemed to occupy him enough.
“You got any sixes?” Klaus’ eyes lazily danced over the deck in his hands, but it went silent for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together as he looked across the table to his playing partner, but their eyes were focused intently on something, or rather someone, behind him. “What in the hell are you looking– ooh.”
His eyes blew wide when he saw you standing behind him, your hands clasped tightly around your elbows in a shield-like position. Klaus could vaguely remember seeing you around the clinic, and he noticed that you always kept to yourself. In fact, he doesn’t remember seeing you talk with anyone at all. And judging by his playing partners reaction, they thought so too. “H-how can I help you?” His words came out hesitantly, his eyes watching as you flinched violently under his stare. That certainly caused concern to raise in his body.
“I-I’m y-y/n.” Your voice trembled as you spoke. Klaus had to strain to hear your words, but still a smile spread his lips as he looked to your face. Something told him that you weren’t used to this, to introducing yourself to others, and probably talking to them as well. Yet for some reason, even though he had absolutely no clue as to who you were, he felt proud. And happy. Proud at the fact that you were coming out of your comfort zone, and happy that he was the one that made you do so.
“Well it’s nice to meet ya, y/n.” He replied, smiling. “I’m Klaus.”
You didn’t want to admit it at first, but you liked— no, you loved having Klaus around. He was like a breath of fresh air. Having someone around, someone to talk too (even if it was a sentence at a time) was something that you didn’t think you needed. He always knew how to put a smile on your face, and he knew it. Seeing you smile was something that Klaus had grown very fond of. Even if it was a gradual thing, getting you to smile was one of the greatest things that Klaus had accomplished at the clinic.
Klaus soon found himself seeking out your company, and it appeared that you didn’t mind having him by your side either. You attended meetings and exercises together, and sometimes you even found yourself being dragged along to the social interactions with him. Though the meetings and exercises remained as boring as ever, you found them to be a bit more entertaining as Klaus would make faces at you from his seat across from you. At times, you found that the smile on your lips and the tug in your heart wasn’t too bad. It felt wonderful. As the days dragged on, you often found yourself seeking him out as well, as it felt that he was the only thing to keep you grounded.
Klaus’s hands always held tightly on to yours, his fingers smoothing down your hair as he held you to his chest. His words were softly spoken as he would calm you from yet another anxiety attack. His arms would be protectively around your trembling figure, his eyes set into a heavy glare if anyone so much as looked at you funny as they walked past your huddled figures in the hallway. Your anxiety and panic attacks had gotten better, yes, but they still happened. And Klaus was always there to help you through it. He was fiercely protective of you, you noticed. He took time out of his day to come to you, to check up on you and make sure you were alright. He often got in fights though, with other patients who would look at you wrong or say something bad about you. You didn’t want him to get hurt, but you still appreciated his kindness.
He didn’t seem to mind though, getting hurt for you. Klaus realized just how much you meant to him the closer it got time for him to leave the clinic. You had weaseled your way into his heart like only one other person had. You had been kind enough to let him talk your ear off about his horrific family experiences, about his literal ‘blast to the past’ and how he had found love. Dave, that was his name. He sounded lovely from the way Klaus had described him, and sometimes you wished that you could meet his lover. You hated what happened to him, and you hated that people seemed to disregard his PTSD for only wanting attention. You knew what that did to a person all too well. His love for you was purely a brotherly love, and it was often that he looked out for you. And though at times you felt weak, you tried your hardest to do the same for him.
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Daughter Dearest 5 {Robb Stark x Bolton!Reader}
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Series Masterlist Here!
{Warnings: mentions of mental illness, mentions of manipulative behavior, argument, some language.}
{Sorry for the long wait! I’ve been darting around on vacation for a few weeks, and haven’t had time to settle and write. To make up for it, here’s a lengthy Robb sequel! Kisses, TNHOD.}
Tensions were high inside the Stark encampment. It seemed that the men had forgotten that there was a war to be fought outside the village of tents, and were content to argue and dispute amongst themselves. Robb was the King of the North, but he was also your husband, and he was visibly worried for your safety at all hours. Ramsay, your half brother, was having a grand time being a pain in the ass, making comments about Robb’s feminine approach to ruling and his gentle touch. Roose was staying out of the argument all together, and had more than once suggested you do the same. 
You didn’t care, Ramsay could choke and you’d dance on his grave. He was a dirty rotten bastard, and he caused nothing but trouble. It was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing, and your ruse would be through. 
That was another matter entirely. Was it a ruse? It had to be-- you were insistent on the fact. You didn’t love Robb, he was a means to an end, a position for your father, and a safe bed for the rest of your life. He could’ve been old or cruel or ugly, but the Gods had seen fit to give you the perfect husband. He wasn’t perfect for you, but he was perfect. 
Robb was pouring over maps, trying to find the perfect ground on which to engage the Lannister army. And more so, where he could hide you during the bloodshed. He was the King in the North, and he didn’t have to bend to the Boltons and their archaic customs. The bastard unsettled him, but he said nothing of it, other than a few snide comments to you in the privacy of your bedroom. 
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are more interested in those maps than the men who made them,” you quipped from the bed, resting your chin on your elbows, observing his admirable ass with a half-smile. 
“I’m sure,” he replied dismissively, though a smile came to his face at the sound of your voice. He was deep in thought, scratching the comings-in of a beard that he hadn’t had the time or luxury to remove. “It’s late. You’re usually asleep by now,” there was an edge of concern in his voice, but he didn’t chide you. 
“You’re usually asleep by now,” you returned, pulling the heavy furs closer around your shoulders to shield you from the cold. “And I can’t sleep when I can feel the tension radiating off of you like heat waves,” you complained, lifting the edge of the blanket and offering an enticing smile, hoping to coax him to your side. “You need to rest-- or you’ll fall asleep with your sword in hand.” 
It was an amusing image, and it conjured a matching smile at his lips. Sighing, he extinguished the pair of candles on his desk, and began to shrug off the heavy layers of clothing that adorned him during the day. There was no grace or seduction to the movements, but they were done hastily, to close the distance between himself and you. 
Finally, he slipped beneath the offered sheet, and wrangled you closer to him, effortlessly sliding his arms around your waist. He stilled soon after that, his nose buried in your hair, breathing evening out as he allowed the tension to slide out of his shoulders. “Can I ask you something?” He murmured, almost lost in the sound of the wind howling outside. 
You nodded, fingers carving soft grooves in the plains of his chest. 
“That first night, after we...” he paused to allow you to fill in the blank, “you swore that you would never love me. You wouldn’t touch me. Called yourself my prisoner. What changed? You went from feral to docile practically overnight, and I just--” he sighed, “I don’t understand.” 
You felt like he’d just dropped a massive weight on your chest, and squeezed all the breath out of your lungs. You’d thought you’d been so careful... “I--” your mind reeled for a way to rectify the situation. “I don’t know.” You answered honestly, fidgeting in his arms so you could turn to face him, and see those hauntingly beautiful eyes. “My father used to love my mother, more than anything in the world. He was stiff, but he was happy. When she got sick, and when she started to lose her mind...” you hesitated. “I watched him fall out of love with her. Secluded her away to a tower, a few servants to care for her, and told me never to visit. Said it would only hurt more when we left.” You couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the pity in them, and the adoration that still lingered. “I didn’t want to marry you. I never wanted to marry. I didn’t want to be her, loving a man who would end up confining me to a little room to rot.” 
“You don’t have to--” his voice was softer now as he tried to pull you back to his chest, “I am never going to be your father, Y/N,” he insisted, metal in his voice. 
“You’re so lovely,” you continued, ignoring the sympathy in his tone. “And soft and sweet, and you want so badly to believe in love... and I took advantage of that.” It felt like a cool rush of relief to admit to the guilt that had been weighing on your conscious. “My father was worried that you would lose fondness for me, so I embellished a little-- just to give me time to truly grow fond of you.” 
He was very still.
“Robb?” You asked, wiggling in his arms to catch a look at his face. “No, that’s not what I meant!” You insisted, once you saw the hurt and color draining from his face. “I do love you, there was just a moment when--”
“That first time,” he asked quietly, “when you told me you loved me, that was him?” He didn’t release you, his eyes searching your face for truth. “Your father?” 
You were speechless, heart aching as you realized what jeopardy speaking the truth had landed you in. “He didn’t--”
Robb unwound from you at once, scrambling away from you like you’d burned him. “And when we made love, was he pulling the strings? The puppeteer, feeding you venom to spit back in my face?” He was indignant, snarling, hurting. “I loved you!” He spat, not even bothering to don clothes as he retreated to the far side of the tent. “You knew how much I loved you-- and you lied to me!”
“I do love you, Robb, please!” You pleaded, curling up on the edge of the bed, and watching his expression twist in disgust. 
“How do I know this isn’t another trick?” He demanded, cheeks flushing red with anger. “That these aren’t your father’s words leaving your lips?”
You opened your lips to respond, but saw the far tent-flap peek open, and a grinning Ramsay peer inside, seemingly close enough to have overheard the obvious spat. 
“My King,” his voice was oozing with smug pride at having caught his rival in a compromising position, “is everything alright?”
Robb, a fire burning in his chest and his heart-shattered into more pieces than he could count, looked to you. His love, the sweet woman that he had grown to adore-- tears shining in her eyes as she begged for him to forgive her... and he couldn’t hate her. He wanted to, Gods did he want to hate her, cast her out and remove the thought of her from his mind. But he couldn’t. Your brother, however... “everything’s fine,” he insisted, his voice low and testing. “We were having a disagreement.” 
“I’m sure half the encampment knows at this point,” he entered the tent without invitation, his eyes sweeping over to you and taking a look of lechery at your disheveled state. “Is there anything I could do to ease this?”
Robb’s jaw twitched, watching your half-brother ogle over you with shameless lust. He hated Ramsay. Without a word, he stepped forward, a fist curling at his side, and a cruel look in his eyes. “Yeah, actually,” his movements were sharp and predatory, “eat shit.” And Robb’s fist collided with his jaw in a brutal cracking motion. 
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War of Attrition: Chapter 2
Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. Steve visits an old friend then a new one. The assassination attempt on Nick Fury’s life doesn’t go as planned. Warnings: Violence, mental illness Word Count: ~3,467 A/N: Yup. Putting that gif up top because if I’m going to go for a low blow, I’m at least going to be upfront about it.
Masterlist // Book One // Book Two
Previous Chapter // Next Chapter
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And just like that the video ended. The screen turned black and the next video played, back to the clips of war propaganda and the occasional recording of Peggy, Howard Stark or Colonel Phillips.
Steve got up wordlessly from his seat in the back, his poor pamphlet crushed to a pulp in his hand.
Steve left the Smithsonian as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. The last thing he needed right then was to be mobbed by well-meaning fans.
His feet carried him where he needed to go without even realizing it and when he finally left the maze of his mind and looked around, he was in front of the fancy care home that Peggy lived in. Steve had learned that she’d been in and out of the hospital lots over the last ten years or so, but her family finally decided that she should live somewhere they could visit and that a hospital did no favors to her health.
Peggy had Alzheimer’s and even the best treatment in the world had done little to halt the horrific progression of the disease. Some days were worse than others, but Steve had wasted enough time these last few years.
Steve Rogers was many things, but a coward he was not.
The nurses and helpers all greeted him with friendly waves. Even a few of the patients gave him cheerful hello’s. The thing about being nearly a hundred years old was that even people who regressed back to their childhood could remember him.
He knocked quietly at her door and was relieved to see she was already awake, idly watching the TV on the wall. When she turned to look at him a bright smile lit up her heavily lined face and Steve didn’t have to hide his in return.
It was a good day, it seemed.
“Steve! I didn’t know you’d be visiting. Don’t just stand around all day, come sit,” she said, voice commanding even though she sounded weak.
Peggy always sounded weak nowadays.
“I should have given you some warning. I didn’t really think about comin’ over, it just kind of happened,” Steve said sheepishly, taking a seat in the chair beside her bed. “I woulda brought you flowers.” His Brooklyn accent always seeped out when he talked to Peggy. He was allowed to be Steve Rogers around her, not Captain America.
Peggy waved a feeble hand at him and scoffed. “I’ve never been one for flowers, Steve. You know that. My grandson just replaced them yesterday anyway. I wouldn’t have said no to a glass of scotch, though,” she said with a wink.
Steve grinned and shook his head. “No way. I don’t need Nurse Shelly comin’ after me. Not after last time.”
Peggy giggled quietly, her eyes bright. “She was rather cross with you, wasn’t she?”
Steve pretended to glare at Peggy, but he was smiling just as broadly. “It was all your idea. You told me it’d be fine!”
Peggy simply smiled that secret smile of hers. “Seeing you sing and dance was worth it. Mr. Jenson across the hall can complain all he likes. I don’t regret it one bit.”
Steve laughed and sat back in his chair. “Yeah, well, I don’t plan on being on that woman’s list again if I can help it.” There was a pause, then, “I went to the Smithsonian today.”
Peggy eyed him shrewdly. “Can’t get enough of yourself, huh? Had to go and see yourself immortalized in a National exhibit?” she asked playfully, though her eyes told him she knew what he must be feeling.
Steve smiled weakly at the playful jab. “Can’t help it if I look good in ten foot high murals.”
Peggy smiled at that, a soft laugh leaving her lips. She stared at him, though, smile leaving her face after a moment. “You looked at their memorial, didn’t you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Steve ducked his head guiltily but Peggy only smiled knowingly. “I’m not going to yell at you, silly man. I used to do it too, you know. Back when your name was up on that wall with the two of them.”
Steve looked back up, blue eyes immeasurably sad, but Peggy was already shaking her head. “Oh no, you don’t get to feel guilty about it now, mister. What’s done it done.”
Steve pushed his bangs out of his eyes; a nervous tick he never kicked, even after nearly seventy years on ice. He couldn’t talk about them anymore. “I met a guy the other day. He was nice. Lapped him a few times in the National Mall. He’s ex-military. Para-rescue. He works at the VA now. Name’s Sam Wilson.”
Peggy smiled at him. “He seems like a nice young man.”
Steve laughed at that choice of words. He supposed that, to him and Peggy, just about any guy was a “nice young man.”
“Yeah, I s’pose he is. He asked me to visit the VA later.”
Peggy raised a wispy eyebrow at him. “And are you going to?”
Steve smiled cheekily. “Depends. Will you get Nurse Shelly to forgive me if I do?”
Peggy chuckled at that. “I think I can manage that. It might be good to go, you know. Mr. Wilson might even encourage you to leave your house for more than missions, exercise, and visiting me.”
Steve held his hands up in a defensive manner, smile attached firmly to his face. “Woah now, don’t get too crazy there, Pegs. Next you’ll tell me I need to learn how to use dating apps.”
She laughed in earnest at that; so hard Steve was worried she’d start coughing, but it seemed that wouldn’t be a problem.
The two of them sobered, though the air was still light with the remnants of smiles and laughter. He found his gaze wandering to the bedside table which was littered with pictures and letters and get well cards from friends and family.
“You should be proud of yourself, Peggy,” he said, lip quirked up at the corner.
Peggy followed his gaze, her thin hair scratching lightly against the pillow as she turned her head to look. “Mm. I have lived a life,” she said, gaze flicking to Steve. Her expression sobered a bit and Steve knew what was coming next. “My only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Steve stared down at his hands and she could tell from that slight furrow in his brow that he was thinking too hard. “What is it?” she asked, that little hint of command seeping back into her voice.
“For as long as I can remember I just wanted to do what was right.” His blue eyes flicked up to Peggy, his eyes searching hers as though she had all the answers. “I guess I’m not quite sure what that is anymore.” He paused, his eyes dropping back down as he lost himself in his thoughts. “And I thought I could throw myself back in and follow orders. Serve.” He looked back up and put on that fake smile that made Peggy want to sigh. “It’s just not the same.”
Peggy huffed out a short laugh. “Always so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes. Steve smiled in earnest and gave a little half shrug, looking away almost guiltily. “Look,” she said seriously, “you saved the world. “We rather... mucked it up,” she said, lips quirked upward in a smile that was closer to a grimace.
Steve shook his head. “You didn’t. Knowing you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”
She made a small noise in the back of her throat and reached for Steve’s hand. He leaned forward and let her take it and quietly lamented at how weak her grip had become. “The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best. And sometimes the best that we can do is to- start- over,” she gasped out, interrupted by a coughing fit.
Steve dropped her hand to scramble for the pitcher of water on the small table by the window. He returned as quickly as he could and sat back down, holding it out for her to take. He reached out with his hand to get her attention and she turned to look at him, her expression changing in a way that made his his heart sink.
Like she was seeing him for the first time in seventy years.
“Steve,” she breathed, awe in her voice.
Steve stared at her, biting back a torrent of emotions. Today had been such a good day for her. They’d been talking for close to an hour.
“Yeah,” Steve said softly.
She gasped, eyes already getting watery. “You’re alive. You came back.”
Steve swallowed thickly against the threat of tears and put on the bravest face he could manage. He was sure his smile was more of a grimace, but it was the best he could do.
“Yeah, Peggy,” he said quietly, unable to speak louder without his voice breaking.
She sniffled and shook her head slightly as she stared at him. “It’s been so long. So long,” she said, tears threatening to spill in earnest now.
Steve gave her a smile that he didn’t really feel and leaned forward, voice low. “Well I couldn’t leave my best girl. Not when she owes me a dance.”
Peggy sniffled. “Did you bring (Y/N) and James with you? I still haven’t given them their wedding present,” she asked, trying to reach past Steve for the bedside table.
Steve grabbed her hand gently before she got very far and shook his head slowly. It was a really bad episode if she thought (Y/N) and Bucky were still alive. “They’re not with me right now, Pegs, but I’ll be sure to tell them you want to see them, alright?” he asked, hoping he sounded comforting and not like he was about to cry.
Peggy smiled at him like she did all those years ago and Steve felt his heart break all over again. “I’d like that very much. Those two are just the most adorable couple I’ve ever seen,” she said fondly.
Steve’s smile was fixed on his face so stiffly that he was worried it’d stay that way forever. “Yeah, they are.”
Steve did end up going to the VA.
By the time someone had come in to take care of Peggy (who’d fallen asleep shortly after her episode began. “Too much excitement,” Nurse Shelly had told him with a beady, accusing stare that sent him scurrying out the door) it was too late to make it in time to truly participate in the conversation, not that Steve was sure he could have anyway.
“Sam Wilson?” he asked the lady at the desk, who immediately went flustered and starry-eyed when she realized who he was.
She snapped a sloppy, frazzled salute to him and pointed down the hall. He gave her a polite “thank you, ma’am,” and walked leisurely in the direction she’d indicated. He could feel her eyes on his back the whole way.
The doors to the room were open and Steve leaned against the door frame, not wanting to interrupt the woman who was sharing. Sam was at the front of the room and Steve saw his eyes flick to Steve for a split second before returning to the woman. No one else seemed to realize he was there, which Steve was thankful for.
“The thing is, I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week. He thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. Thought it was an IED.” When she finished talking she looked down at her hands, missing the understanding looks the other vets were giving her.
“Some stuff you leave there,” Sam began. His voice was soothing and cut easily through the tension in the room. It was clear that this was a safe space and everyone in that room trusted Sam. “Other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase, or in a little man purse? It’s up to you.”
Steve’s jaw worked as he mulled over Sam’s words. Peggy’s words from earlier bounced off his skull until there was nothing but a racket left for him to sift through.
Steve stayed and listened for the rest of the meeting, but never went and sat down. It was almost over, anyhow.
After, Sam said goodbye to some of the vets before making his way over to Steve, making busy work by reorganizing and stacking pamphlets. “Look who it is. The running man,” Sam said, throwing Steve a sly smirk over his shoulder.
Steve tucked his hands in his pockets and walked over. “Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense.”
Sam nodded as he placed some cards back into the basket on the table. “Yeah, brother. We all got the same problems. Guilt, regret.” There was a tone in his voice and look in his eye that Steve knew all too well.
“You lose someone?” he asked quietly. Sam didn’t have to answer. It was a pretty personal question, after all.
But he did anyway. He nodded, eyes eventually landing on Steve though Steve could tell he wasn’t completely in the present. “My wingman, Riley. Flying a night mission. Standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before. Until an RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass outta the sky. Nothing I could do. S’like I was up there just to watch.”
Steve’s memory flashed to that Godforsaken train in the alps. Of (Y/N) and Bucky falling mere milliseconds before he got there.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said instead.
“After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, y’know?” he said with a weak smile.
“But you’re happy now? Back in the world?” Steve asked, nodding his head towards the large stack of papers on the table.
Sam crossed his arms and the smile on his face was a little more genuine now. “Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about-” he made a show of looking around, “-zero? So, hell yeah.” He was smiling in earnest now, just like he had been at the National Mall. “You thinkin’ about getting out?”
Steve stared at a spot on the table. “No,” he said quickly with a little shake of his head. Then he paused and tilted his head, considering. “I don’t know.” He smiled that melancholy smile. “To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”
Sam considered that for a moment, his lips tipping down at the corners. “Ultimate fighting?” Steve laughed and Sam chuckled. “Just a great idea off the top of my head,” he said, grinning. “Seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”
Steve looked back at Sam, his lips straight in that almost-smile he wore too often these days. “I dunno.”
Your POV
The mission was simple. Assassination was simpler than extraction or escort.
One target. High value. Extremely capable. Proceed with caution.
Hydra sent out a small group of soldiers dressed as local police. Handler Pierce wanted to solve the problem without pulling you and the other Soldier into it if at all possible. You were valuable, best used in the shadows.
However, it was clear from the noise on the comms that the Hydra soldiers had failed and were in pursuit. You watched the screen in your hand, quickly tracking his most likely paths of escape.
You kicked the bike into life and shoved the tiny device back into your pocket. “Hop off when I slow you down. Grab your Mag Disc Grenade launcher,” you said by way of warning. His right arm was already around your waist so he didn’t slide back even an inch when you sped forward out of the alley. The electric engine was nearly silent, perfect for stealth operations... ignoring the fact it was broad daylight out.
You’d drop him off at one of the most likely routes of egress of your target then head to the other yourself. You’d leave the bike with the other Soldier. If the target happened to take another route, you’d pursue one foot (well, jet skates) and he’d pursue on the bike.
But you trusted your calculations.
You slowed down at the corner of one of the intersections, pulling up on the curb and ignoring the gaggle of surprised onlookers. Most of them scattered when they got one look at the guns you were packing, but some stopped and took pictures, gawking like a bunch of brain-dead monkeys. You ignored them and felt the bike shift as the Soldier hopped off, mag launcher in hand. You parked the bike on the curb, knowing there was no way in hell anyone would be stupid enough to touch it after getting a single look at you and the other Soldier.
“What about you? There’s only one,” the Soldier said, holding up his launcher as the two of you started to walk away from the bike.
You rolled your eyes even knowing he couldn’t see the gesture behind your goggles. “Shut up and do your job,” you said, grinning ferally beneath your mask as your razor-sharp wheels popped out of your feet. It the other Soldier said anything after that, it was drowned out by the roar of your twin heel jets and a half second later you were half a block away.
“I really don’t need this, you know. You should have taken it,” said his voice in your ear.
You growled your annoyance. “I don’t need it either, idiot. A high-tech car like the target’s? I can fry it with a single touch. I doubt it can outrun me in this traffic anyway. Did you plan to punch it into submission?”
The other Soldier made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Are you in position?”
You came to a stop in the middle of the street, ignoring the cars that swerved wildly to avoid you. A few drivers yelled angrily at you as they passed, but you ignored them, too. “Of course. Tell me if you get a visual. It seems like the target lost the agents that had been pursuing him. I don’t have any information no-”
“I have a visual.”
You groaned and fired your heel rockets up again and headed back to the other Soldier’s position. “I’m headed back. Status?”
“Mag grenade deployed.” There was the sound of an explosion in your headset and you were fairly sure that if you didn’t have your heel jets on you’d be able to hear the explosion and screams with your own ears. You could imagine the car flying through the air. In fact you rounded the corner just in time to watch the other Soldier sidestep the SUV, smoke wrapping around him like a cloak.
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“Success. Target’s transport destroyed.”
“Finish him, then. I’ll be there in a moment with the bike and then we can return to Handler Pierce and inform him of our success.”
You watched him wrench the door off its hinges and send it flying. You left him to finish the target and grabbed the bike which, as you’d expected, had been given a wide berth. You kicked it on and rolled over to the Soldier a half-block away. You knew immediately something had gone wrong. He was stalking towards you, but his posture was all wrong.
“What happened?” you asked, looking between him and the wreck.
You heard him through both the comm and the normal way as he hopped onto the bike behind you, sitting back to back so he could watch your six while you made your escape. There was a handle on the back for the express purpose of him being able to hang on while you drove. “He used some sort of device to cut through the door of the SUV. Escaped into the sewers. Could be anywhere, especially if he has backup waiting for him.”
You glowered as you weaved through the city’s streets, cutting through traffic and dodging places you knew had cameras. “You should have chased after him.”
“We can back and you can go down the sewers in a fruitless chase for our quarry, then.” When you didn’t respond he sounded almost smug. “Didn’t think so.”
“You can tell Handler Pierce you let him get away from you, then.”
He went stiff against your back and you knew that had struck a nerve. “We still have eight hours.”
You frowned. “So it’s on me to find him again.”
There was a pause, then, “No, it’s on us.”
Next Chapter
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throwmeinarkham · 7 years
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Just a Bite
Alright so this is a little more complicated than usual. I got a request a while back asking for a imagine with an anorexic reader and how Joker would react and whatnot. This can be a very very sensitive subject. I haven’t gone through this and I don’t know if I depicted it in the right way at all. I would like to point out that I do not condone or support this mental illness but I can understand how reading about a mental illness can help sometimes, it helped me when I needed it.
So to my amazing readers, if this helps at all I am thrilled that I could play a part in your recovery and I support you every step of the way. I believe in you.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Verbal abuse ( ish ??), depictions of anorexia, mental illness
As always, if you have any feedback or constructive criticism please don’t hesitate to send me an ask or a message. I am taking requests but there is not guarantee on when it will be done by. Thanks my loves!
Without further ado:
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Even though J’s house was fricken huge there was nothing to do. All you did was roam and explore but it had gotten old. You had roamed and explored every nook and cranny of his extravagant house. Walking down one of the many hallways, you admired each piece of artwork that adorned the walls and the beautiful gold laced vases that were placed meticulously all over the halls. God these must cost a fortune, you thought to yourself.
The day dragged on and on and on without him here, you seemed to always be patiently waiting for his return. You found yourself sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush on your phone, same thing you did everyday, that’s what happens when you’re his girl and he barely lets you leave the house without him. You perked up when you remembered that the house had surround sound speakers. Solo dance party. You grinned and ran to the main console and plugged in your phone. You hummed and hahed about what to listen to and finally settled on Keep Me Crazy by Sheppard. It was nice and upbeat, perfect for dancing. You blasted the music and ran through the house.
You jumped, you twirled, you sang, you danced and it was the most fun you had had in a while. You were able to let loose and let go. The fun all ended when you heard a crash and looked behind you. You had collided with one of his expensive vases, the biggest one, no doubt worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do, what do I do?” you spoke to yourself. You gripped at your hair frantically trying to think of a quick solution. You kicked yourself for being so reckless. J was gonna kill you.
As if on cue you heard the from door swing open.
“Baby girl! I’m home, come to daddy,” he hollered throughout the house.
“Uhm… I’m busy! Can’t come, sorry!.” You scrambled for a last minute solution. You heart raced as you heard his footsteps come up the stairs.
“Hello doll how are y- What the hell happened here Y/N?” he said as he rounded the corner. You stared at him speechless, thinking of something you could possible say to help the situation.
“Hi baby! How was your day? What did you get up to?” you said in a falsely happy voice as you walked towards him. He was seething. You could tell by the way his fists were clenched, how his jaw was tilted slightly downwards, how his shoulders were slowly rising and falling with everything deep breath he took. He was livid. You had seen him this angry before but never at you. Sure he had gotten mad, but never like this. If looks could kill, you would be 6 feet under.
“Fucking answer me Y/N,” he muttered in a voice that was all too calm for the situation.
“Well… I was bored so I figured I would put on some music and dance for a while and I backed up and didn’t see the vase and kinda knocked it over. I’m so sorry J. I really didn’t meant to. I just didn’t see it! I’m sorry, please don't be mad,” you pleaded. He glared at you with more anger than you had seen in quite a while.
“You… God Y/N you and your fucking fat ass always fucking breaking shit. God will you lose all that fuckin’ weight already. I can’t have people thinking that I’ve settled for a fat bitch,” he yelled.
Your weight had always been an issue for you and he knew that. You had never been like the “other girls”. You were always a little more round in the hips, waist a little wider, bustier for sure, and a butt so big apparently you could knock things over. Your eyes started to accumulate tears as his words really sunk in. You were in shock, frozen in place, at a loss of words. You snapped back to reality and bowed your head. He was right. You could lose a few pounds, you weren’t very thin, not how you should be.
“You’re right…” you mumbled and turned away, heading to the shared bedroom. You wanted to rip off all the fat, you wanted to cut it off, any way possible. You’ll diet, you’ll stop eating entirely, you’d do anything. Anything for him to love you…
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It had been weeks since you had talked to him. You had decided to leave for a while, take a break from him. You went and stayed at a friends place for a while. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat after what he had said and it had really started to take a toll on you physically and mentally.
“Hey Y/N. Can we have a chat?” Your friend gingerly sat beside you on the couch you had been sleeping on. You nodded and looked over at her. “Are you okay? You won’t tell me much and I’m totally okay with that, whenever you’re ready, but you’ve been here for 3 weeks and I haven’t seen you eat anything at all and you’re just not looking too good. Is everything okay?” You shrugged and looked at her with empty eyes.
“I don’t know. I guess I just haven’t been hungry lately.” That was a lie. You were starving but you refused to eat. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t. His words rang in your ears constantly. A constant reminder of what you were to him, fat.
“You should try and talk to him… As much as I don’t support your relationship I think it would be healthy if you talked to him to clear the air, to get some closure y’know?” You nodded in acknowledgment.
“Alright well maybe in a while, I still need some time to recover. I’ll be out of here as soon as possible, I’ve been looking for places and I shouldn’t be here much longer.”
“Okay, well if you need anything let me know, I’m always here for you Y/N.”
——————————————————————————————————
A couple more weeks had gone by sleeping on Y/BF/N’s couch before you moved in to the tiny quaint apartment on the cheaper side of town.
Your phone started buzzing beside you. Looking at the caller ID and seeing that it was Y/BF/N.
“Hey girl, how’s it going?” You answered.
“Hey, not so bad. Just wanted to check up on you, we haven’t talked in a while since you moved out. You’ve been there for what? 2 months now?” You hummed a little and stayed quiet. “So… how are you doing?” Admittedly, you weren’t good. You hadn’t really eaten since you left him and it was starting to show. Your hip bones popped out a little more than before, your clothes were a little too loose, you were dwindling away slowly.
Maybe he’ll love me now, you thought to yourself. You stood in front of the mirror analyzing yourself. You still weren’t skinny enough. A harsh knock on your door broke you out of your trance. you threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top and ran to the door. You creaked in open a tiny sliver to see who the hell could be standing at your door at 11 pm. The first thing you noticed was the signature purple alligator coat. Your eyes trailed up and noticed his blinding green hair.
“Open the door will ya doll?” His voice sounded through the crack in the door. You quickly and quietly pushed the door shut and locked all of the locks you had set up on your door for this reason specifically. “You know I will push down this door if you don’t open it.”
“Fine but I’m keeping the top lock locked,” you said.
“Y/N just open the god damn door. I swear I will kick this door down if you don’t open it,” he said sternly. You released a heavy sigh and unlocked the door fully. He shoved past you and in to the small living room. “This is where you’ve been living?” He asked with a disgusted looked on his face.
“You know, not all of us have a ridiculous amount of money to spend,” you retorted, defending your small abode. He turned and looked you up and down taking in your gaunt figure. You covered up in shame, the memories of his words playing at the back of your mind.
“What happened to you?” he inquired. You shrugged and looked at the floor, unable to meet his daunting gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“Well… you’re just… so skinny. What happened?” You shook your head and bit your lip hard to avoid the tears that threatened to spill. You played with your fingers to distract from the heat of his gaze.
“I think you should go now,” you mumbled, hoping he would hear you. He reached forward and grabbed your wrist, inspecting the thin expanse, running his thumb over the protruding bones of your thin arm. You yanked away your hand and wrapped your arms around your torso, hiding your body.
“Y/N, answer me. Now,” he demanded.
“It’s none of your business. You have to go.”
“God Y/N, when was the last time you ate?” You shrugged your shoulders, honestly not sure. Maybe a bite of an apple a couple days ago? you thought to yourself. “Y/N…” he threatened.
“I don’t know… maybe like an hour ago,” you lied.
“No Y/N tell me the truth. I can tell you’re lying.”
“I don’t know, like a couple days ago maybe?” you answered quietly. He stared at you with broken eyes laced with pity. “And don’t you dare get mad or pity me or lecture me because this is all your fault J! All your fucking fault. It’s your god damn fault that I can’t eat something without throwing up. It’s your damn fault that none of my damn clothes fit. It’s all your fault,” you yelled, repeatedly pounding your fists against his chest, tears flowing freely. He stood speechless in front of you, not even trying to refrain you from hitting his chest.
“What are you talking about? How the hell is this my fault?” he countered. You stared at him, your heart breaking even more than it already was. He doesn’t remember. Not one bit, you thought to yourself. You felt your knees give out slightly, causing you to tumble to the ground letting out a loud sob.
“God you don’t even remember. You don’t even remember what you said to me that made me fall in to this… this pit of fucking sadness and despair. You don’t even remember what you fucking said. That’s rich. You need to leave now. You need to go. I’d be better off without you anyway,” you said with a defeated look on your face. He fell down to his knees beside you.
“Y/N, look at me.” You shook your head, refusing to look at the man who changed you entirely. “I’m gonna help you get better Y/N. I’m gonna do everything I can. You’re not my Y/N…” He looked at you with pity in his icy stare.
“No J. I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own. I’ve been fine for the past two months without you. I’m fine. At least I’m not fat…” you mumbled the last part almost inaudibly.
“Fat? Who the hell said you were fat?” He stared at you as if you were crazier than he was. You countered his stare with a look of utter disbelief.
“You’re not serious right now, are you?”
“Who said it. I’ll have their head on a plate. No one does that to my girl,” he said, rage filling his voice.
“You did it J. You said it. You said I was fat. You said that you had settled for a fat bitch. You said so many hurtful things. You made me like this. I am a shell of who I used to be but I thought maybe if I lost all that weight then you’d want me again but I was wrong. I’m not skinny enough.” He stared at you with an open mouth, the memories of his harsh words flooding back.
“Doll…” He was speechless, at a blank as to what he could say to fix this. “I… I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re perfect kitten, you always have been. Now lets get some food in that belly of yours,” he spoke in an apologetic tone as he gripped your bicep in an attempt to pull you off the ground.
“No. I’m not going with you. You hurt me so bad. So, so bad J. I’m broken because of you. Our relationship was toxic, I can’t do that to myself anymore. Go back to your old lifestyle with money, and parties, and girls that are better than me. Just forget about me.” You shakily stood up and walked towards the door, opening it to let the man you love leave.
“No Y/N. I’m not letting you stay here. I’m not letting you live like this. Do you even have anything in your fridge?” He walked over to the fridge and yanked the door open. All he found was some orange juice and some celery sticks that had gone bad. “Y/N you can’t do this to yourself. I take back everything I said. You’re perfect, I don’t care about your body. Your my queen, my partner in crime, the light of my life.” It broke his heart to see you in such a state but it broke his heart even more knowing that he was the cause of your hurting. He pulled you in to a warm embrace and held you against his firm chest. Your tears left wet spots on his burgundy dress shirt. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Come home with me Y/N. I need you. Please Y/N, I can’t stand seeing you like this,” he begged. You gave a slight nod and followed him out of the home you only knew briefly.
“I can’t forgive you for what you said J. At least not yet.” He hummed, acknowledging what you said. “I mean J, look what you did to me.”
Getting better, getting back to who you were, the Y/N that you loved was going to be hard, there was no doubt about that but it was a day to day process. Each day you would eat a small bit, half an apple, a carrot, small things. Some days were better than others. Some days you fell right back to where you started, hating yourself, but there were good days too like the days you would feel his hand explore your body, praising you for the work you had put. He helped you a lot, he let you go at your pace, supporting you through everything, reminding you what a beautiful person you are.
———————————————————————————————————
5 weeks of hard work, tears, and breakdowns and you could see yourself getting better. You could see your hips becoming a little more filled, you could see a bit less of your sharp hip bones, your cheeks had turned back to their healthy glow. It was a work in progress but you were so proud of yourself for bringing yourself to where you are.
Things will get better. The words you used everyday to get you through the toughest of times.
You can do this.
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courageousfire · 7 years
Text
It’s two in the morning and I can’t sleep. So I’m putting this under the cut because it’s so long.
You don’t have to read, it’s just some thoughts and observations.
You know, it’s funny how much people can destroy you, even after they’re out of your life.
The other day, my mom brought up my past with school and how I had no support from anyone but my own family. And I honestly haven’t really thought about how much I was shaped by those years until recently. I’ve always been upset with my school district for how they treated the mentally ill. Long story short- I was offered no accommodations because it was deemed too late to start getting them my senior year. And even in that year, with a diagnosis and everything, I was scolded for leaving class for “just” an anxiety attack or missing a lot of days from my chronic depression and migraines. While that was terrible in itself, my life was fouled up long before that even happened.
Fourth grade- when I was only 10 years old- I moved here and things were fine for a while. Everyone was nice enough. But soon, everyone lost interest in me and no one really cared anymore. Well, they found other ways to get their entertainment. I was only 10 when the bullying started. I was a very oblivious child and hung out around the people I thought liked my company. It turns out, they liked me around for a laugh.
Thankfully, it was nothing too bad or noticeable- then again, that’s from my own interpretation at that age and mentality. Sure I was socially abused and outcast, but I thought nothing of it at the time. 
I remember this kid on my bus- he was my first real friend. He was physically abused from his father and his life was rather horrible. I felt bad when I saw him alone, so I talked to him. He was nice and caring. But, he liked more “feminine” things. So, of course no one cared about anything else- they just focused on what was different. That was when I started noticing how mean people could be. But, maybe they just don’t understand, I thought. They called him gay as the slur it was used as at that time (and unfortunately, sometimes currently). I defended him. I defended him because he was my friend and he was nice and he cared as much as I did. Of course, the friend of an outcast isn’t any better, I guess. So I was treated the same as him. Honestly though: I didn’t care. We had each other and that was enough for me. 
One day, he vanished. I guess he started living with his mom away from his father. And I’m glad he did because it seems like it was good for him. But, selfishly speaking, it wasn’t for me. Now, I really was alone. Sure I had a few other people that talked to me and I would sit with, but nothing like the friendship I had with him. 
Now, I’ve never been very physically adept. As far as I can remember, I’ve nearly always struggled with breathing and endurance. I just never had stamina. I wasn’t as strong as everyone else. I know I’m more graceful and elegant, so things like dancing I did pretty well in. But, of course the physical education here was absolute shit. It was a requirement for every year I attended school, and every year they increased the testing score needed to even pass it. I always came short. And, naturally, it wasn’t measured by improvement or anything but how we stack up to what the state deems average. They were always ridiculously high, so of course I failed them every time. The mile? You had to finish under 9 minutes just to get a D-. Anyways, that in itself caused a lot of verbal bullying from the guys. 
Skip ahead to eighth grade, when my depression really started taking form. I was getting more sad and it was getting a bit harder to complete things I could’ve easily done. Being a solid A student every year prior, my then B average grades caused some concern from my parents, but nothing major. I started getting much more self conscious about how others perceived me, and I wanted people to like me because I didn’t. I got clingy to those I hung out with because, I thought they were the only ones who did, so I wanted to focus on them instead of everyone else. 
My friend started to date a guy who started showing his distaste for me right away. I guess he was jealous or way too protective, I don’t know. But I wanted to let her know without him being there or hearing. So, I wrote her a note and stuffed it in her locker. The next day, he approached me as soon as he saw me across the hall. It was honestly terrifying. He came straight for me with that look in his eyes that was a huge red flag. As soon as he caught me, he twisted my arm behind my back and threatened me. 
We ended up in the vice principal’s office. He got off with a warning and told not to let his emotions get the best of him. Me? I was disciplined for “provoking” him. I got a lunch detention for “improper use” of the lockers fr putting the note in it. The first time I was actually bullied so obviously- I was blamed. I respected every single adult. They’re supposed to help you when you need it. They’re supposed to protect you when you can’t protect yourself. So if they blamed me, it must have been my fault. Right? After that, I blamed myself for a lot. And, people let me. I would apologize for every little thing. And the only thing people would say is that I apologize too much. But I was never given any kind of proof that I didn’t have reason to apologize.
Fast forward to freshman year. Things were pretty similar, but the people I thought were my friends started talking to me less and less. And, I blamed myself. Now, my school hosts a dance every year where the girls are encouraged to ask the guys. And, I liked this guy in my class. We sat by each other the semester before and he was really nice to me then. But, that semester, the day I dressed up and wore makeup to look nice, I realized what a jerk he was.
I walked up to him when he was standing around his friends. They weren’t really talking or anything so I went up to him and tried to make some conversation. The first thing out of his mouth was “what are you doing?” in a very condescending tone. I was still pretty innocent for that time, so I politely smiled and tried to explain that I was hoping to talk to him alone. “What makes you think you can talk to me?” His friends started laughing. Now, obviously I’m starting to get the hint and apologize. But, he didn’t stop. “Don’t ever talk to me.” This time it was the whole class laughing. I didn’t notice that everyone’s attention was on us until then. “Why would anyone want to talk to you?” I laugh along because I thought better to laugh it off, and they were probably laughing for a reason. “No one wants you here.” I looked around for some kind of help, but I didn’t get any. Even the two teachers in the room that were listening and watching did absolutely nothing. I remember being in the bathroom alone in a stall crying and wiping my smeared mascara from my face.
The next few years, it got almost impossible to do work, to want to work. I only found content in music, and even the band was against me. I considered them family, but no one wanted me there. They said the and would be better off without me and that the semester I had to quit due to a heart surgery they said it was a good thing. I tried to ignore them because I still loved music. It gave me something to enjoy. 
Sophomore year: the same dance comes around again. One of my friends at the time told me his girlfriend didn’t want to go. So I thought it’d be nice to go together as friends. What a fool I was. We hung out with another guy and had a good time. But, the next day of school, I found out his girlfriend broke up with him. He didn’t really want to talk to me about it, so I gave him space. But, I started noticing people staring at me, more than usual. I knew people were whispering about me. But- I didn’t think anything of it because I was used to it. I knew they were just rumors, and didn’t really know what was wrong until someone called me a “whore” while passing me. Okay, well it might have just been someone else behind me or something. It kept happening all day. Of course, I was very confused as I was probably the only virgin in that school that had no intention of having sex or even dating.
Turns out, his girlfriend was waiting for an excuse to break up with him. So, she used me. She claimed someone had seen us making out during the dance and possibly more. That rumor spread quickly, and soon everyone in the school knew it. It probably didn’t help that I was his rebound crush- but... anyways...
One day at lunch a kid I’ve never seen before calls me over so to isolate me. I went over to his table where his friends were laughing. Alright, whatever. He suddenly asks me out as a joke. I, of course, explain that I don’t even know him. “I didn’t think whores were so formal.” I didn’t know who he was, but he clearly knew me.
I had to go through every day of the rest of my education like that. I grew so numb to it. At least, that’s what I thought. I thought I didn’t care anymore. But looking back now? Yeah. That fucking hurt to no end. And, the sad thing is my mom was right. I had no support through any of that. The teachers and peers did nothing. I... really was alone. I didn’t keep a single friend from high school because they soon joined in on turning on me. Some just faded, but most suddenly switched sides. Then again, they were always on that side.
Every time I doubt myself, every time I think negatively about myself? It’s a decade of abuse and bullying and depression and no support through any of it. For so long, I just assumed they did it because it was true. If it wasn’t someone would’ve stopped them. Someone would’ve said something to contradict what I’ve heard. The first time that happened was two years ago when my dear- and first online friend, Dante- told me I was worth something. I denied it, and still do sometimes. Only because I genuinely believed for so long, I wasn’t. Ever since the beginning of Junior year I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts. And honestly? I have no idea how I’m still here. I... I had no future, no support, no one to love me or even care. And yet... I still kept going. I guess it was hope for something more. Four years later and I’m struggling to keep that hope I had so long ago. 
I’m sorry for constantly doubting and venting and clinging. I’ve just... never had people to listen. People to care or love me. And now that I do, I don’t exactly no what to do with it. I just want you all to know that I love you all, and even if I’m so afraid of these things repeating and friends leaving and being alone, I appreciate your friendship. Even if I’ve only talked to you a few times, you’ve made all the difference and I can’t thank you enough.
Erasing ten years of damage is far from easy, but you make it possible. 
Thank you.
I love you.
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lavalampelfchild · 7 years
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20 and 23 for your Warden Babies?
Alright!  I finallydid this!  Honestly, this took so longbecause I was trying to figure out how the heck my characters would react togetting sick once they were in the Wardens. I’m sorry for the delay!  So here we go!
20. their reaction to a mystery love letter  (See, this one is potentially hilarious,because it entirely depends on what the love letter says; like is it sappy andover the top?  Is it serious andunderstated?  Assuming it’s genuineeither way, I think there might be different reactions depending on the mannerof expression.)
Ila: Ilaremembered once teasing Shianni for being the recipient of a visiting elf’saffections when they were young.  Hewould leave little notes in places Shianni often visited, and Shianni wouldgroan and tear them up and declare that she “wasn’t that kind of girl!”  Meanwhile Ila would smile and shake her head,amused by the whole thing.  She neverwould have guessed that one day it would be her on the receiving end of such aletter.  In truth, she was flattered butultimately unmoved.  She wasn’t lookingfor that kind of romantic attachment, and didn’t feel ready for itbesides.  Not after everything that hadhappened in the alienage, at Ostagar, and every place else since.  
The one thing she feared, though, was that it had beenwritten by one of her companions and was a genuine expression of theirfeelings, in which case she would have to disappoint them because she had noromantic feelings for any of her companions. But the last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone.
She ended up keeping the letter, but ignored it, hoping thatperhaps avoiding the acknowledgement of its existence might gently dissuade heradmirer from further pursuing her.
Tristan: “Whatthe hell is this for?  Wiping my ass?”  It was… sweet?  He supposed? A little more like those over-dramatic nobles back in Orzammar for histaste, always sending love notes to each other about how much they “burned whenthey were apart” or whatever the sodding hell. The words were poetic and nice, but Tristan preferred things to besimple.  There was meaning in the simple,and those love letters were all about being fancy and complicated.  
Tristan ended up keeping the letter, however, and though henever figured out who sent it (or really cared to find out), he came toappreciate it even in its somewhat extravagant (by his standards) expression.  He did give it to Zevran for a dramaticreading once while he was drunk, though.
Aja: She blushedimmediately and intensely upon reading the mystery letter’s contents.  She really shouldn’t have done this aroundthe campfire, but it was warm, everyone was there, and she hadn’t expected thenote to be something so… personal.  Herlips turned up into a small unconscious smile and she pressed the note to herlap, her gaze resting on her knees as she tried not to look over at Alistair.
Did he…?  Was he theone who…?  Aja spent the entirety of thatevening before going to bed obsessively going over the language in the letterand analyzing the penmanship to try and find any hint as to the sender, andhoping that it might be one person in particular…
She kept the letter, and tucked it away safely amongst herthings, guarding it as closely as if she were still in the Circle and likely tolose any personal effects to the templars. It became something she would occasionally pull out and read to herselfon quiet evenings, and even weeks after first receiving it, she still felt aswell of warmth in her chest whenever she looked at it.
Gundhram: Gundhramhad never been on the receiving end of a love letter in Orzammar because he’dnever been particularly interested in conducting that kind of torridaffair.  Oh, he’d heard about themplenty, and often commiserated with peers who were agonizing over whether ornot their lady love would accept their humble poetic offerings.  But for his own part, Gundhram had beencontent with less romantic attachments.
Unfortunately for whomever had penned the letter, Gundhramwas ultimately… indifferent to it.  As ameans of fostering a romantic relationship, it was a failure, as Gundhram hadneither the time nor the interest in engaging in the elaborate dance ofcourtship.  Gundhram nevertheless keptthe note, however, oddly soothed by it, though he never responded to it.  The sentiment in and of itself was…heartening, and it gave Gundhram a measure of contentment to know that suchsentiment could still exist in a Blight-ridden world, and even amongst thegrizzled and world-weary Grey Wardens.
Velyn: Velyn didnot trust this odd letter.  It wasclearly written by a shem (there was no way Ila was behind it, Velyn wasn’tstupid), and that alone was cause for concern. As soon as he read the letter one time, Velyn put it down and nevertouched it, though he didn’t let it out of his sight for fear that it might…do… something.  It made him nervous.  He didn’t know who’d written it, what if itwas laced with poison that became an airborne toxin after a certain amount oftime, or was enchanted to explode if he looked at it one time too many?
Worse still was the possibility that one of his fellows hadwritten it.  If that were true, then it had to be a joke.  There was no way any of them would havewritten a love letter to him, of allthe Wardens, and meant it.  
The poor love letter ended up alone and unappreciated inVelyn’s pack for a time until he rediscovered it and promptly cast it into afire with a grimace of distaste.  Theshemlens’ idea of love was odd.
Gazza (not a Warden,but why not): Gazza initially had some difficulty in believing the letterwas real.  Someone had written a loveletter to her?  Gazza blinked and read the letter over asecond time.  It was… beautifully writtenand composed, like one of the old poems her mother had always enjoyed.  But… who had written it?  Gazza’s eyes subtly scanned each of hercompanions in turn.  Immediately, sheknew who it wasn’t, and scratchedthem from her mental list.  In her mindshe went through a checklist, and crossed even more names from it as she went.  Really, there was only one person she couldthink of who was even remotely likely of being the culprit.
The letter was kept safe in Gazza’s personal belongings,tucked away with important objects belonging to her family, as Gazza tried to beladylike and appealing whenever Leliana was nearby, tried fluttering hereyelashes the way Leliana did so effortlessly, tried smiling a bit more to drawLeliana’s attention.  It was awkward andembarrassing, and Gazza was never completely sure if it was working, butthankfully she was stubborn, and if she turned out to be right about theletter, then the rewards would far outweigh the discomforts.
23. how they act when they’re sick: This one I’m doing in adifferent format than the previous one because I couldn’t think up tiny blurbsfor each of them that encompassed how they would behave for illnesses in allsituations.
Ila: If it was somethingrelatively small and manageable on her own, Ila would attempt to self-medicate,and would almost certainly play it down. For the more serious illnesses, she would still probably try to downplayit because she doesn’t want to slow the group down.  If worst comes to worse, however, and thegroup needed to stop to allow her rest and time to recover, she would give inwith minimal fuss because she knows that pushing herself past her limits is asurefire way to make things worse.
Tristan: Tristanactually rarely ever gets sick.  He’squite hardy, but when he does succumb to some sort of illness, he ignoresit.  He doesn’t even try to medicatehimself, he just pretends there’s nothing wrong with his body.  Beraht never allowed him to take a day whenhe was ill, and he was the only example of an “employer” that Tristan ever had,so he took his cue from his time in the Carta. He expects the same rules to apply to the Wardens, and is surprised whenthe group slows down and insists he rest to allow himself time to recoverbecause, to him, there’s nothing wrong enough with him to warrant that kind oftreatment.
Aja: She getsembarrassed.  Almost always, wheneverdealing with an illness, Aja will first attempt to heal it herself, preferablywithout anyone knowing about it.  If thatdoesn’t work, then she’ll try to hide it, pretending that everything’s fineuntil the illness finally causes her to collapse (and it most likely will,given her isolated upbringing in the controlled environment of the Circle; herimmune system isn’t the best).  When thathappens, she’ll sulk about having failed to heal the illness, and then needingto be babied (as she believes it to be) as she recovers.
Gundhram: LikeTristan, Gundhram has rarely ever gotten sick since becoming an adult, and alsolike Tristan, Gundhram will most likely ignore any illness he experiencesunless it becomes impossible to ignore its effects on his body.  Eminently practical, Gundhram knows thatignoring illness when it progresses to a certain point is only damaging.  That being said, he also believes thereshould be a way to continue moving forward while also allowing oneself toheal.  And Gundhram has very differentideas from most about what “allowing oneself to heal” really means; very often,it’ll just mean walking at a slower pace and drinking/eating more of a certainsubstance.  Very rarely does it meanstopping to rest, and whenever anyone might suggest that, all they’ll get fromGundhram is a firm “It’s fine.”
Velyn: Velynovercompensates when he’s ill.  As awarrior of the Dalish who prides himself on his skill and ability in combat orwhen hunting, Velyn always prefers his body to be in peak condition.  And he hates weakness; an illness would be aperfect physical manifestation of weakness in his mind.  So he would downplay it at first to keep theothers from finding out, but if it got to the point where he couldn’t do thatanymore, then it would just become a battle of wills between Velyn and theillness.  It wouldn’t matter what anyoneelse said, Velyn would still keep pushing against the symptoms the illnesscaused; he would push himself beyond what he normally pushed himself to solelybecause he wanted to prove that the “weakness” of his illness couldn’t winagainst him.  And then eventually, itwould get to him, and he would collapse, and would need an equally stubbornpersonality to make sure he stayed still and got the rest he actually needed.
Gazza: LikeVelyn, Gazza is stubborn, and used to hiding what she sees as her defects.  But in Gazza’s case, she had a family ofpersistent and stubborn people, all of whom cared about her, who oftentag-teamed her if they found out that she was ill and trying to hide it.  Fergus was often the worst, and he would rather out to their parents, which would lead to mother hen-ing from her mother,and stern looks of disapproval and concern from her father.  From those experiences, Gazza had learned toallow herself to be cared for, and though it still irks her and stings herpride a bit to submit herself to that kind of care – especially coming fromsomeone with whom she wasn’t very familiar – she knew that it was ultimatelythe best way to conquer the illness and get her back to fighting form.
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cookiebutton · 5 years
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It’s 00:02 a.m. and I just brushed my teeth, washed my face and put my PJs on. The lights are still on and my Airpods are in my ears while 14 or maybe 15-year old Tiffany is singing “I Think We’re Alone Now”. I’ve haven’t listened to this song in ages but then I’ve been binge watching The Umbrella Academy last week and the song played in the first episode. So yeah, now it’s stuck in my head and I keep listening to it from time to time. In fact, that song makes me feel a lot of things. When it started playing earlier while I was brushing my teeth I was actually crying silently while staring at myself in the mirror – making sure, I get each tooth, you know… By the time I started washing and exfoliating my face – I have to do this because I’m blessed with combination skin and I’ve been eating fast food, like a lot, recently – I was humming the song and started dancing like nobody was watching. I mean, she IS thinking that “we’re alone now”, right? Also, I know for a fact that no one would be around now. Ignoring the fact that I wouldn’t let anyone in my room at the moment, because it looks like a mess. I really need to hover and take down the clothes from the drying rack. At least I’m still doing the dishes.
I watched After Life by Ricky Gervais today. If you know Ricky Gervais, then you know about his dark comedy. Well… probably. I didn’t. I knew of him but I’ve never seen any of his work. I won’t really spoiler anything but if you get a chance, I’d highly recommend watching it. The series is on Netflix and consist of six episodes all about 25 minutes each. In short: Gervais plays a journalist for a local journalist called Tony whose wife died earlier that year of breast cancer. Tony being the cynical character that he is, doesn’t see any point in living and decides to go around and punish people by being mean and cynical to do good – he calls it his superpower. I mean, what’s the point in living if the only thing or person you actually cared about or loved isn’t around anymore? The first episode already made me choke up while I was on my lunch break at work. I stopped because I didn’t want to cry in the break area while everyone else was having the time of their lives – for some reason. Don’t really know what was happening nor did I really care at this point. And that is actually my problem at this point. I’m someone who actually cares A LOT about what people think about me and things that I do or don’t do. I always question myself and go through a lot of possible and impossible scenarios, before to even make a choice. Although I have to admit, that work just became routine, which is good. I guess. However, I seem not to be very happy with myself lately. Which is… interesting. I think it was a month ago, when one of my colleagues asked me “What do you do, when you feel bad about yourself?” I’m not gonna lie, when I say that this was very alarming, because this was the guy who I was somewhat admiring for this positive and happy attitude. Then again, I should’ve known that everyone, including myself, has a work or public face. Nevertheless, I tried to help him, by telling him the things that I try to do; drawing, watching Netflix, old YouTube Videos, listening to Podcasts, having some me-time. I don’t know, putting a facemask on, washing my hair, order food, eat ice cream… It made me think and realize that I actually don’t have the answer.
Which brings me to today. Currently work isn’t really fun anymore which made me first sad, then frustrated and then really started pissing me off. Yep. Then I realized that a lot of the things I was getting so annoyed about are things that are way above my pay rise. So, I stopped caring. Now that might seem like I don’t care about my job anymore, which is not true. I still like my job and the company I work for and I also really care about the customers. I think I’m just at a point in my life in which I ask myself why I even care so much about anything going on. When my colleague (same guy who asked me what I do, when I feel bad about myself) asked about my day and I replied with “alright”. We had a small conversation (I should mention that he knows about my social anxiety and depression). I told him that my day was rather boring due to the fact that the last couple weeks have been rather slow, no customers and more employees than customers. When he asked about one of my highlights today, I told him about a dog I met today. It was a cute little poodle named Miles. He was six years old and so excited to see me, but then again, dogs are often really excited about anything! I love dogs. Even so, my thinking was: If a dog I met at work was the highlight of my day, then it was a rather boring day, right? My colleague though otherwise. I think he was trying to say that I HAD some sort of highlight today, which made everything worthwhile. It was then that I realized what was actually happening. I’m basically an exhausted care bear. I’ve been caring so much about a lot of things recently, that I just can’t anymore. So even if there is something exciting happening, I’ll be shrugging it off, saying that my day was just fine or alright. Maybe I’ll say that I had a good day, but just maybe. When I look around now, I realize that I stopped caring about a lot of things. I think the only thing I really care about are my Aloe Vera plants – one actually lost a leaf, which I will have to regrow.
ANYHOW, after what happened today and finishing After Life just after binge-watching The Umbrella Academy I was wondering about the many faces of mental health and its illnesses. If you’ve watched The Umbrella Academy you might agree with me saying that each and every one of the main characters has some problem. Addiction, trust issues, schizophrenia, I don’t know… Then After Life. Tony clearly has a lot of issues going on with him. He even goes to see a therapist which is probably one of the worst therapists I’ve ever seen. The things Tony does and says are really worrisome but also made me chuckle and I couldn’t help but sympathize for him. In fact, I could totally understand where he was coming from but then again, I could understand where all of them were coming from. Life can be horrible. Life is pain and nothing but a ticking clock reminding us that your time could be up anytime soon.
Well… you might want to think that. Or you just don’t. It’s up to you, because I’m just rambling and knew I had to put down, what I was thinking and feeling after finishing that series. I’m feeling so weird about life at the moment and it worries me a bit, but hey. I haven’t felt reeeeeeally bad for a while and to be honest I don’t feel like something bad might happen anytime soon… This might be because I don’t really care about anything at the moment. I think we’re alone now… Maybe I’m just tired of putting on a happy-and-everything-is-alright-face on. One day, someone at work actually told me that I didn’t look myself. When I told him, that I was annoyed and frustrated with things, he thought that this was my alter ego and decided that I should name it. It made me chuckle, because my alter ego (or one of them) is the one that comes to work every day.
  I’ll catch you later!
Miiesche
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Ricky, Tiffany & The Umbrella Academy It’s 00:02 a.m. and I just brushed my teeth, washed my face and put my PJs on. 1,356 more words
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