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risuola · 4 months

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MISERABLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Satoru hated the way he would recognize you always, even if just by the taste of your tears.

cw: angst, husband Gojo, hurt/barely any comfort, brief physical abuse, blood mentioned, verbal abuse mentioned, borderline toxic relationship, general sadness and sorrow — 2,6k words

a/n: the spontaneous pour of my brain, the angstiest parts of it are the most active during the night... could this be tied to too much? idk, maybe

“Do you think we could ever be happy?”

The question cut through the silence of the evening like a knife, reaching your ears and mind in a way that made you hum. Your hand not even for a moment stopped the gentle motion of brushing through the soft hair of a man whose head was resting on top of your lap. The gesture automated and yet still somehow warm, still filled with emotions that over the years remained unspoken.

“Do you think we–, no, I could have done all of this differently?”, Satoru asked again, his tired gaze fixed on the golden ring he kept between his fingers. The band that sealed your love at the altar nearly five years ago. One that you took off for the first time since you vowed in front of him, promising him your heart, body and soul till the end of days.

“I’m not sure if we were meant to be happy,” you told him quietly, keeping your hand occupied by the snowy strands. The words made your throat clench the moment they left your mouth; your voice cracked just slightly at the end of the sentence. You felt your body aching from the intensity of the feelings, like all of your cells were suddenly on fire, your heart bleeding inside your chest as if the knife was stabbed right through it.

“You think so?” His voice stayed low, nearly whisper-like as he was taking in what you said. “Were we supposed to be miserable?”

“I don’t know, Satoru,” you mouthed, not much sound leaving your lips.

Your hand felt light, distressingly so, you hated the sensation. You knew this was how it had to end, you knew that the time would come to part ways with your husband, but nothing could have prepared you for the heaviness of it. You felt it all on your shoulders, weighing you down as if the entire world just collapsed and rested on you. Suddenly you felt like things as trivial as breathing became exhausting, there was not an ounce of certainty in you, not a single drop of the belief that you will be alright without him. Satoru was a part of you, he was like a vital organ without which you felt like you won’t be able to live further. But, at the same time, that very organ seemed to kill you slowly, seeping poison right to your bloodstream, hurting you time after time. A disaster. You two were a disaster.

“I’m really sorry,” he breathed out after few moments of suffocating silence. “You deserve the world that I couldn’t give you.”

“I never wanted the world,” you denied, your head shaking just slightly as you allowed your knuckles to brush against his cheek. “You are my world, Satoru. I never needed anything else. You are all I want, you are everything that my heart loves.”

“And yet, I fucked even that up,” he chuckled. A bitter undertone felt nearly palpable as it echoed in the empty area. Satoru knew it was all him. Hurting you time after time, he never thought of it until it was already said and done and yet, you were always by his side. Every shit he said to you, every word that left his mouth you took and forgave. All he could do was to savor your cries and he hated himself for the way he would recognize you always, even if just by the taste of your tears.

You were an angel, he always thought. You were too good for him, too patient and too forgiving. Even in the heat of an argument, you tried to talk him down from his outbursts. You were the one to hug him tightly to your chest, to press his ear right above your heart even if he stabbed it with his words just a moment before. You showed him nothing but love, and yet that day… Satoru had no idea what possessed him when he clenched his fist during the argument. He feels like he blacked out for a moment, because it’s only after you spit the alarming amount of blood, kneeling on the ground and keeping a strong hold over your stomach, that Gojo realized that he just hit you with the blue infused fist. It felt unreal, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He felt like his own body betrayed him. Why would he do that?

And then, he was right at your feet, apologizing frantically as you tried to regain your breath, to not vomit, to push the pain away from your thoughts but you just couldn’t. It hurt so much, you felt like all of the organs inside you were crashed after that one, single hit. The taste of metallic covered your tongue, your vision went blurry for a couple of seconds and at first, you couldn’t even hear the repetition of sorrys that was leaving Satoru’s mouth. He was terrified and so lost. Disgusted by his own self, hating the way he lost control over his body and hurt you. Before that, the sight of your tears was something that often kept him up at night. Remorseful thoughts haunted him constantly, but now, he knew that they won’t show up anymore. Now he’ll be seeing your blood, he was certain of it. Now, he’ll be seeing your curled in pain form, gasping for air as the red is gushing from your throat. And he’ll know that he was the reason for it. That it’s him, your husband who should protect you from any harm, who caused your suffering. Even the thought of it felt surreal. Was there any good in him? Or was he just a monster?

But then, you slowly got up. Satoru had no idea how long it took, but you pushed your body up and sat yourself against the wall. You knew him well enough, you knew the state of panic that he was in that very moment and your heart broke at the sudden realization of what’s to come. Inviting him onto your lap, you let your hands wander through his hair, calming him slowly in the silence of your shared home. Then you gave him the ring. Gold, now stained with blood enough to cover the love promise that he had engraved inside the band. The vow that he wasn’t able to keep.

“Please, don’t leave me,” he whispered, knowing it’s futile to ask. You could feel the hot tears dropping from his face onto the skin of your thighs and even though he seemed calm right now, you knew him all too well to know how broken he is, laying there in complete submission to your touch. He wasn’t moving, his gaze was fixed on the jewelry he held in his hand, his eyes studying the I’ll love you forever etched into the metal.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you confessed, still gently caressing the side of his face and his hair. If it was your choice, you’d stay with him till the end of your days. You could withstand the verbal outbursts, the heated arguments – you were a part of them, you had your fair share in the hurtful words, even though you knew how heavily it was bordering toxicity. But that day the line was crossed, and you could tell he wasn’t in the right state of mind when his fist clenched before. For a split second, it wasn’t your Satoru, it wasn’t the love of your life. For that brief moment, it was the strongest sorcerer in the world, the menace, as others call him, a threat. All of your marriage you felt safe near him. The power he possessed he always used to ensure your well-being, you not even once had to fear him because of how gifted he is. He never used his jujutsu against you. Not until that day.

“Then don’t,” a plead. He had no right to ask you to stay, he was all too aware of that.

“I’m scared of you, Satoru…”

You fear him. The sound of these words rang inside Gojo’s head for a good moment, rendering him speechless and you suffocated in the silence. You hated the sentence that just left your mouth, you hated the feeling of frighten that was cursing through your veins. You never felt uneasy next to your husband. Even if it’s right after the argument, you were always certain that if any danger occurred, he’d be the first by your side to shield you from it and he showed that to you many times, protecting you from threats as trivial as you grabbing the hot pan handle. Even in the heat of a fight between you two, he’d be the first to kneel in front of you and kiss your knee if you hit it onto the table. You can speak no words but he’d carry you in his arms from the other side of the city if he knew your feet hurt from walking. But now, how could you feel safe if you know he can be pushed to the point of using his strength against you?

“I…” He began but fell silent as soon as he opened his mouth. How could he even explain what happened to him? How could he reassure you that it won’t ever happen again if he himself wasn’t even sure what made him punch you in the guts? He couldn’t even remember what was the reason for the argument before it occurred. “I don’t know what happened,” he said truthfully. “I feel like I blacked out for a moment, I would never—”

“I couldn’t recognize you for a moment,” you exhaled, closing your eyes. The picture of his face right before the hit flashed against your eyelids. That was the Gojo from the battlefield, not your husband. “But if that happened now, how could I ever be sure it won’t happen again? I don’t want to die by your hand, Satoru, and we both know you are strong enough to kill me in one hit.”

“You’re afraid I’d kill you?” It felt surreal. Was it even happening right now? Satoru’s voice dropped down to a whisper. “Do you think I’d be able to do that…?” He wasn’t sure either.

“I don’t know.”

It was a nightmare. One of those from which Satoru couldn’t wake up, no matter how harshly he would pinch himself. The agonizing weight of reality felt heavy on his body, it hurt physically, it made him want to scream, to cry, to die. What was the point of his life if he couldn’t even keep one person safe? He always prided himself for being a man of his word and yet the promise to love and cherish you till death part you seemed unachievable to him.

“I don’t know what happened. Why my body acted the way it did. But love, please believe me,” he was desperate as he raised from your lap, kneeling in front of you and gently cupping the sides of your face. His touch was almost non-existent, he was scared to put any pressure against your skin but you leaned into his palms. Your fingers found their place around his wrist, smoothing the area softly with your thumb as you looked into the blue of his eyes. There was despair storming inside the ocean of his irises, the depth of fear painting its picture on his features and it hurt you to see him like this. “Please, believe me that I would rather die myself rather than hurt you ever again. There’s nothing I can do now to erase what I did, if I could cut my hand off just to make sure it will never cause you any pain, I’d do that without second thought.”

“We both know it will grow back,” you muttered lightly and he chuckled just barely at the remark. Satoru rested his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses kissed as he allowed himself to close his eyes and you did the same.

“I love you. I can’t go without you, I can’t live without you. You’re everything that I have and I know I have been a shitty husband. We argue a lot, I said so many things that I should never even think of. Fuck, I caused you so much pain… I know I don’t deserve you. I know it’s selfish of me to ask you to stay with me even though I’m the reason for your suffering, but please, please, just give me one last chance.”

“Satoru…”

“Please, let’s change it all, let me fix it,” he was babbling, you could tell how much panic was seeping into the voice that was leaving his mouth. “I’ll change, I will do everything, anything, to make you feel safe. To make you feel how important you are for me, how much I love you.”

“I know you love me,” you whispered, pressing a kiss onto the heel of his palm.

“Don’t kiss that hand, you should hate it,” he sighed. The feeling of your lips on the hand that caused you pain burned him alive.

“I can’t hate any part of you. Even that hand, I love with all my heart.”

“Then stay. Don’t leave me, please, I beg you. I know I’m a handful, I’m terrible, I’m—”

“I knew you are a handful when I married you,” you cut him. “I knew who I’m saying I do to. Even though we fight so often, you never failed to make me feel safe. With all your power, I was never scared of you.”

“If I could give up that power just so you’d know I’ll never use it against you anymore, I would. And believe me, most of the nights I can’t sleep because the sight of your tears is haunting me and now, I know I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for the way I hit you. The blood, the hurt… God, you bled because of me…”

Feeling unworthy of being at the same level as your face, Satoru lowered his head, aiming to back away from you and rest his forehead at your feet where it should be, but you were quick to grab him by the fabric of his shirt and pull him to your chest. Once again, his mind went blank as the calm sound of your heartbeat drown out the hurricane of thoughts in his head. The warmth of your body enveloped him along with your arms as you wrapped them around his figure and out of habit, his own hands snaked your waist. You had the ability to make the world stop, to erase everything that wasn’t just you and him in the universe. You were what he needed to be able to live. No air and water could keep him alive if it wasn’t for your presence right next to him.

“I’ll stay,” the words left your mouth as a whisper but despite the quiet tone, it sounded confident. You were sure of your decision. You were sure of him, there was a lot more to Satoru Gojo than just that one moment and you realized it while kissing the hand that punched you. It got to you that what you felt wasn’t fear of him, but it was a fear of losing him. “But promise me something.”

“Yes?”

“Not today… But tomorrow, let’s sit and talk. About everything. Let’s clarify the things that we argue about, so we won’t need to anymore.”

“I’d love that. I hate fighting with you. You are all I need in life and yet I’m hurting you so often.”

“So tomorrow. We will talk about it all, okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I promise you. The world on fire won’t stop me from taking the time with you.”

“Good… now, let’s just stay like this.”

“Yeah…”

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bear-of-mirrors · 2 years

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So thank you to @sal-absinthii for tagging me in this list of 10 characters in 10 fandoms.

To start off, gotta go with the Big M:

1: Megatron - Transformers (IDW1.0 continuity as the best incarnation to date, but I also really love both the Fall of Cybertron and Prime versions of him too)

At close second is:

2: Fëanor - The Silmarillion (I don’t care what you say, he did nothing wrong cause no one else was trying to stop Morgoth. The Telari should’ve given him those damn boats.)

3: The 8th Doctor - Doctor Who (I tended to waver back and forth on which of the revived Who Doctors were my favorite [not counting 11] while always wondering what the show would’ve been like had the TV movie actually worked at reviving the series in the 90s. But then I found out that Paul McGann and his silky honey voice reprised the role of the 8th Doctor in audio dramas from Big Finish well before the show returned on BBC tv. And yeah, without a doubt 8 is the best Doctor and has phenomenal writing, and also has the honor of being the first Doctor to have a trans companion played by a trans actor in the recently concluded Stranded story arc series of stories. 8’s just the best and always needs a hug cause he’s basically what would happen if you took all of the Doctor’s hope, love, joy, enthusiasm, excitement, and curiosity and made a person out of those emotions.)

4: Jaina Solo - Star Wars (yes, I know she’s not technically part of the current canon anymore but Jaina is just the absolute best and I love her and she deserves the Galaxy. I’m still waiting for them to finally let her book trilogy be uncancelled and get written.)

5: Benjamin Sisko - Star Trek (in the debate of who is the best captain, it always unjustly becomes a Kirk vs Picard kind of thing, but while Picard is indeed better as a captain than Kirk, Picard is the kind of officer you want to serve on while inside the Federation. Once you’re out on the frontier or beyond? You need someone with the flexibility and morality/lives over Starfleet regulations, duty, and honor. Besides, he’s the Space Dad that keeps the DS9 polycule alive cause he’s the only one with a brain cell.)

6: The Rookie - Halo (well before Doom got revived in 2016, Halo had already made a game where your silent protagonist had beautiful characterization purely through his body language alone. Halo 3: ODST is a beautiful game with an amazing environment and a really great player character that you can just feel the loneliness through his body language as he works his way through an alien occupied and dead city trying to find his unit, while also seeing sparks of exasperation and playfulness at times without a single word being spoken. I will never forgive 343 Industries for killing him off in a flashback in a book instead of giving him the sequel we all wanted.)

7: Isaac Clarke - Dead Space (Dead Space is the kind of game I never expected, horror in space while allowing you to live your starship engineer dream. Like, yeah dealing with the terrifying cosmic horror truth of the Necromorphs and Brethren Moons is my kind of story, but I found I really really loved the parts where eternally tired engineer Isaac Clarke comes up with on the fly ways to keep space ships and space stations going and in the sky while fighting hordes of monsters. Especially that 200 year old derelict fleet section where you get to fly through like four or five different ship wrecks getting what things you can turn back online, well, online lol)

8: William Adama - Battlestar Galactica (what more can be said about Commander-turned-Admiral Adama? Sometimes you gotta roll a hard six and he did so every time. Not many people could lead the survivors of humanity through the stars to build a new home and future after a twelve-planet-wide robot induced nuclear apocalypse, but he sure did)

9: Loghain MacTir - Dragon Age (oh boy this is a character. You meet him as the main human antagonist in Dragon Age Origins as you try to unify the nation of Ferelden against the Blight and its Darkspawn hordes. He seems a typical fantasy bad guy human but the more you learn about him the more complex and tragic he becomes. He was once a peasant during the imperial occupation of Ferelden by neighboring Orlais and its fantasy French people, who rose up and joined the rebellion of the deposed prince and helped liberate his homeland from truly barbaric oppression. And that oppression scarred him for life. At one point he had to sacrifice a whole army to rescue said prince, his best friend, but was forced to promise to Maric that he would never again sacrifice an army to save one person not even if that person was a king. This places his retreat from the field of battle at the start of DAO in a different light than what you initially are led to believe. Cause his leaving the field allows for the current king, Cailan, son of the deceased Maric, to die at the hands of the Darkspawn in what was a hopeless battle. Loghain keeping that promise to Maric saves the lives of his part of the army, but is viewed by everyone else after as betrayal of the crown. He also comes to fear that Orlais will return and so instead of fighting the Blight he tries to solidify his regency against a hypothetical return of the imperial occupier. And so he has to be beaten and humiliated by you as you topple him from power less his actions doom the nation. After doing so you have the choice to kill him or recruit him into the Grey Wardens which is a life long sentence of protecting the world from the Darkspawn. If you do that, he returns in the third game as the only Warden not corrupted by the magic of the big bad and who can either sacrifice his life in battle to atone for the Wardens being overcome, or you can sacrifice someone else and keep Loghain alive still so he can continue his penance for what he did in Ferelden during the Blight. You also learn from his daughter that when his wife’s roses died he rode to the other side of the country to buy her a new rose bush but didn’t know how to safely transport it on horseback so he silently held the thorny bush in his bare hands for the whole ride back home, thorns piercing his hands all the way, simply cause he loved his wife and wanted her to have her flowers.)

10: Tali Zorah - Mass Effect (what else is there to say about Tali other than that she is the Space Wife? Nothing else need be said cause that says it all)

Tagging @cblgblog @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics and @thefingerfuckingfemalefury for this.

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whump-town · 3 years

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A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter One: Tired Of This Body

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn't going to go down without a fight. It's just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count: 7,883

Author’s Note: ugh... well, here it is. Don’t be afraid to send me hate mail or leave a comment. I love it when I make you guys sad (in a loving way of course) :)) good luck you little shits and may the odds be ever in your favor (FYI, they’re not)

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird)

I've grown tired of this body Cumbersome and heavy Tired of this body Fall apart without me

“I understand you’re here with concerns of a mass you found—”

He was shaving. The mirror fogged from his shower and the room heavy with steam. Leisurely, he’d wasted time getting ready. That particular morning, he’d gotten up before his alarm and he was happy for the distraction of the near-boiling water pouring over his back while the cold tile bites into his shoulder. An easy stress-reliever before the day fully starts.

Dragging a cool rag over his face he’d caught sight of a slightly swollen place on his chest. He’d dropped the rag in the sink and gently probed the area. He’d expected the sting of a bruise, not a knot of hard lumps.

It wasn’t a bruise.

“I regret to inform you—”

He hadn’t even known there were lymph nodes in the chest.

“Can you take your shirt off for me, sir?”

There’s a whole staff of people fluttering and dodging his eyes. A blur of motion as they work around him. Of them all, Hotch has already developed a soft spot for. Dr. Fitz and the glasses that are too big for his face despite his attempts to make them fit his face. There are rubber bands wrapped around the earpieces to push them tighter around his head and a piece of tape holding one of the lenses in. It’s strangely endearing.

No matter how many times Hotch tells Dr. Fitz that Aaron works just fine, he still nervously throws in the courtesy. He’s just like Reid and it’s that thought that makes him both comfortable and so unbearably alone.

With a nod, Hotch tugs his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. The cold air hits his bare chest and he holds his breath for a moment, shivering slightly before he takes control once again. Foyet’s scars are on broad display for the whole room but, to their credit, none of them blink. They’re not here to dissect the scars covering his body or take stock of the weight he’s put on.

He just goes where he’s pulled. If he flinches when they touch him, no one comments. It’s for the better, mostly.

“The tattoo is going to guide the external beam radiation at your tumor,” Dr. Fitz explains once again. His hands tremble slightly as they hold the little needle in his hands. “It’s just three dots.”

Hotch nods, his mouth a little too dry. This whole process a little too much. He nods his understanding, fists clenched at his side to force himself to show no outward reaction. It doesn’t bother him as much as it should those dots are going to be with him forever. His first and last tattoo.

Forcing a steadying breath, he glues his eyes to the ceiling. It stings but it’s not unbearable. The needle digs into his chest, pushing the ink in. It’s the second and third dot that get him. His skin is getting hot, sore enough to make him gunt as the last one is placed.

“Not nearly as fun as a normal tattoo,” one of the other doctor’s observes. Hotch, blinking back tears, looks over at his other doctor. A woman whom he’d never have figured the “tattoo” type. His brain is a little preoccupied, worn down. He’ll get over not profiling her very well, he just might not forgive himself for the slip-up.

Hotch just… grunts. Not a real answer but the easiest.

He’s offered a hand up but he doesn’t take it. Shoulders sore and arms weak, he pushes himself up. Leaning to the side when his head starts to pound, his mouth really, really dry.

“Alright—” a cold gloved finds his shoulder. “You’re just panicking,” he’s reassured. “You need to breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” The hand squeezes his shoulder but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. It feels like he’s going to pass out. But… he doesn’t. He breathes as instructed and slowly, the room calms back down.

As he peels his eyes open, chest tight and hands trembling, he finds the room still every bit as busy as it was before his little fit. The world really doesn’t stop.

“Are you sure—,” Dr. Fitz twists and worries his hands. Obviously, he’s worked himself up too. Probably blaming himself for Hotch’s reaction. He should have let him take a break or warned him a little better. “Most people find it helpful to have someone here,” Dr. Fitz observes. “Do you— Do you want to call someone?”

His eyes drop to the floor, his mind-- Haley. She would be here. Cracking jokes and poking at his side. Things used to be so much easier with her around. There was this magic about her, a drug her presence doped him up. She would light the room up and hold his hand. She’s not here, though. She’s dead and he’s having a hard time convincing himself this isn’t some sort of penance.

Snuffing out a light like her, it was bound to have its consequences.

They’ve marked him and with his advanced stage, he’s got an aggressive treatment plan, and the radiation starts tomorrow. So, no. No, he doesn't want to call anyone. He just wants to serve his time. Besides, who would he call?

JJ? With two children of her own and a painfully busy schedule.

Reid? His mother occupies his mind as is.

Morgan? He’s grappling with a relationship with Savannah, attempting to salvage all of the complex things life has thrown at him.

Dave? Hasn’t he already lost a child? The last thing he needs is to sit here for any given amount of time and watch this.

And he’d never, never put Garcia through this.

“No,” he rasps, laying back down. “I’m okay.”

He closes his eyes and when a single hot tear runs down his cheek, he doesn’t wipe it away. I’m okay.

I’m okay.

There aren't immediate side effects and he’s not sure if that’s a relief or worse. He’s anxious, nearly sick with nerves. Would it not be simpler to just get sick already? To throw up or get sore or just— anything.

The machine hurts his ears. Fifteen minutes of lying perfectly still gets hard after about two minutes. The whole process exacerbated by the way the low hum of the machine makes his head feel like someone’s digging at his skull with an icepick through his ear.

He’s assured he shouldn’t start feeling any symptoms for a few days. Likely not until the second week of treatments.

It takes five days for a stitch in his side to take his breath for a moment, doubling over as he struggles to breathe for a moment. Chest tight and head fogged. They just add another pill bottle to the other whole collection he’s accumulated on his nightstand.

It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest. A hand gripping a fist full of his hair and dunking his head back under the water. Ties binding his wrist to the bed. A knife buried in his side.

It feels like the ground he’s standing on is rumbling, shifting beneath his feet and at any given moment it’s going to pitch him forward. A free fall and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to land on his feet.

He’s staring at the ceiling. Fists gripping the sheets as his stomach twists and churns. Swallowing around the uncomfortable burn in his throat, he turns his head to the side. Watching the movements just outside his bedroom window. Jack’s outside, kicking his soccer ball, and waiting for Daddy to come to join him. Hotch, will have to join him sooner rather than later. Even with the yard fenced in, anything could happen out there.

Funny. Just a few weeks ago, anything could have been blown under the rug with “at least it’s not cancer”. Now he’s plotting his will out in his head, making sure he covers every little thing. Who will lead the team? Where will Jack go? Can Jessica handle arrangements and should he start preparing the comfort letters now?

In the face of it all, he’d thought he could accept this. Life goes on. Things happen. He doesn’t want to die. All of those poems, the books, and the lies. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.” Well, that’s right shit, in his opinion. What comes next? Not light. Not hope. His body will succumb to cancer leaving behind the carnage of his actions.

Hodgkin's Lymphoma…

He’d known, in that morbid way his thoughts tend to twist, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. That it would be silly for the doctor to smile, sympathetic to his plight, and advise him to talk to his therapist about this new progression of paranoia. For a pat on the back. Instead, he got the cold examination table under his back, and the nurse giving his trembling hand a squeeze as the needle had plunged into his chest.

It’s all been a haze since that phone call. Since the confirmation. Now he’s got more blood tests scheduled for Monday. That’s what his life is now. Radiation for fifteen minutes for four days a week. On the fifth day, he gets blood work drawn. They check for enzymes and cells. He doesn’t really care to understand.

He should. Don’t mistake the careless, numb ache thinking about all this gives him for complete inattention to detail. It’s just a little much for one person.

Hotch finds himself wondering what Reid would tell him about the whole process. Statics that would knock the wind from his lungs and odds that would make him feel just a little better. That he’s too old and too stressed out. That radiation aimed at his chest can harden his arteries and increase his already high chances of a heart attack. That he should have seen this coming-- his father died at 47. Lung cancer. A heart attack.

He should have seen it coming.

“Daddy?”

He has to lean into his nightstand as the ground warps beneath his feet. “I’m coming,” he manages, closing his eyes and blindly hoping that his door is shut and Jack can’t see him. He wishes he’d smoked more. Indulged in Dave’s cigars. Gone drinking with Derek. Danced like Penelope. Fuck, smiled more.

He didn’t even know there were lymph nodes in the chest. He’d gone to law school. Spent his early adulthood learning to read complex course material and how to cry softly in a room with another person less than five feet from him. Maybe he should have studied Biology… but then he’d just have to come to terms with the fact that this whole mess was bound to happen. Predisposed. Genetic and environmental.

His fault.

--------------------------------

Six in the morning is not a typical time to be fielding calls from concerned police officials. “He—Hello?” Which, now that phone is tucked under his chin, and the call answered, he realizes that he should have checked the caller ID. As stated, is it six in the morning and he doubts anyone too important is calling him at this hour.

Unless, of course, his luck has finally run out and yet another political disaster has occurred. Leaving him to clean the wreck.

The other end makes a strange noise before he’s greeted with, “--finally! I was almost worried you wouldn’t answer!”

Oh.

Emily.

“Morning,” he greets, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’s a little too grumpy for this right now but she’s obviously called for a reason, her happiness seeping into tone, and he’s not going to purposely ruin that. How many hours ahead is London, again? Why is she awake?

“I was worried,” she admits. He can hear her working, the drag of her pen across paper, and the shift of the leather chair she’s sitting in. Even her keyboard clicking away as she multi-tasks. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Home. He smirks, she’s been overseas now for several years. Yet, she still refers to Virginia as home. The thought makes him shake his head. He’d never draw the conclusion out loud to her but he can imagine that little slip-up is one of the reasons that her on-again-off-again boyfriend Michael grows frustrated with her. It’s not her fault. It’s an understandable mistake but it certainly reflects a certain tone for her affections of London.

Her preferences.

“They’re fine,” he answers, evenly. “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” He pauses to splash water across his mouth, preparing to wash his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

He places his phone on speaker and sets it on the shelf above his sink. Ducking his head, he listens to her while he washes his face. Going about the habitual process of shaving. A comforting thing he’s always done. He’s got no preference when it comes to facial hair. A beard is just as easy as a clean face. It’s about shaving. It’s soothing. It’s one of the few things that’s remained constant in his life.

She’s talking-- he thinks about how the weather in London has hit a point in the season that she doesn’t particularly like. Raining and cold. That she wants to come home but she isn’t sure she should. Will she really be able to tear herself away from the Virginia weather? From them?

He’s half-way done shaving when his eyes drift to his shirtless chest.

He wonders how many times he shaved, how many mornings did he wake up before he realized-- before he saw the tumor or the lump or mass or whatever the hell the medical term is. He lowers his head, sighing in defeat but mostly anger. How’d he let it get to this?

“Anyways,” she sighs. Sounding every bit as tired as he feels. “How is home? How are you?”

He looks at himself in the mirror. His head is absent of reason. No logic or forethought.

“I have cancer.”

-------------------------------- Everything about Aaron Hotchner is traditional and simplistic. It’s not a bad thing. In the years that she's known him, she’s grown fond of that. It makes him predictable and reliable. Something that happens infrequently in people the older that she gets. A part of her does feel wrong for clinging to that, to him, but she cherishes his friendship. Through the ups and downs.

Their means of communication are letters. Once a week she can expect to find two to three pages of neatly written updates on her family across the pond. He’ll ramble about anything in those letters and that’s what she enjoys about them the most. There is no hesitation to tell her what he thinks. In those letters, she can find Aaron. Incredible soft, thoughtful Aaron.

It’s been two weeks since he’s sent a letter. Not to sound clingy but she’s kind of hurt. More so, she’s nervous to find out what’s taking up so much of his time. He’s routine with his responses. Almost every Thursday night she can curl up with his newest letter and a glass of wine and read about the BAUs newest adventure. It’s always a bonus when throws in his subtle little “I” statements. I miss you’s come rare but when they do happen it’s nice.

Sighing, she caves. It’s Friday, she hasn’t heard from him in two weeks, and she misses him. By the time she has his contact picture pulled up and the ring tone dialing-- his goofy picture from his badge grinning at her-- she realizes that her eleven am is his six am. Just as she’s starting to think he won’t answer it goes through.

“H--Hello?” he sounds like shit. Over the course of the last year, she’s managed to forget what he sounds like. His voice is startlingly deep which does surprise her just a little.

“Finally!” she mumbles. “I was worried you wouldn’t answer!”

He yawns and it makes her smile. “Morning,” he grumbles and she can hear him scratching tiredly at his face. She feels guilty for waking him up for only a moment. That is until she remembers he gets up at six. So it’s likely she called right after his alarm clock went off.

Tucking her phone between chin and shoulder, she turns her computer on. Settling in behind her desk and getting to work. “I was worried,” she tells him. Not sure if she’s meaning to sound mad at him for not sending his “everyone’s alive and well” letter or mad that she doesn’t know how he is. He’s thrown her off her routine. “Your last letter was nearly two weeks ago. Is everything good at home?”

Her worry bleeds into the statement but he’s too tired to feed it or make fun of it.

She can hear him huff softly, an almost laugh.

“They’re fine,” he answers softly. His voice is drowsy, “Jack’s doing well in school. Dave’s stopped hounding me about potential love suitors.” She hears the tap run, he pauses, and she can hear him splashing water on his face. “Garcia enjoyed last month’s tea flavor, what was it-- raspberry?”

She smirks, it was raspberry. Although, she doubts Garcia liked it as much as he says. She’s not a huge raspberry fan. Besides, Emily had sent that tea with one specific tea drinker in mind: him. The thing about Hotch is, he’s traditional, but he’s also complicated. That’s just Hotch for “I enjoyed the tea you sent”.

Really, she’d just wanted him to be introduced to more teas than his just his simple black tea. Be more creative. Have some fun.

“I’m glad Garcia liked the tea,” she says with a smirk. “She’s been texting me all week.” Pictures, texts, and a few Snapchat. Emily doesn’t entirely know how to use Snapchat yet but she’s getting the hang of it. “You guys being grounded is relaxing, I’m sure, but that woman’s got way too much time on her hands.” Emily shakes her head at the thought. Lovingly, of course.

“Anyways,” she runs a hand over her face and she lets out a sigh. “How is home? How are you?”

There’s a long pause on his end. All his busy movements coming to a halt. It makes her heart pick up its pace, her gut twisting. Suddenly, that knee-jerk thought, that stupid thought that something might be wrong feels true. She’s just about to say his name when his voice cuts through.

“I have cancer.”

Her first reaction is oh. At least she was right.

That is immediately followed by-- oh fuck.

“Are you…” she swallows thickly, work forgotten. “Have--” Where does she even begin?

He clears his throat, “Hodgkin's Lymphoma.” He answers without her actually having to ask. It feels to get it off his chest, literally. To tell someone. “I guess--” he makes a choked sound like the shock of this news is setting in again. “They have to put, uhm, ink to locate the right place. So, I… I have a tattoo of sorts now.”

She laughs a half-pained sound. “I’m sure Morgan doesn’t consider it to be a tattoo,” she manages around the tightness of her throat. She cringes at the thought, ink and a needle just digging into his flesh. Cancer invading his body.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment but when he does, she understands the silence.

“I haven’t told them.”

As much as she wants to be mad at him, she shouldn’t really expect anything different. He’s painfully shy and private. God knows if she hadn’t found him half-dead in the hospital after Foyet, he’d have gone as long as possible without telling them. He certainly wouldn’t have told them while still hospitalized.

It’s the same lack of forethought that goes through them, a moment of blindness. He’d felt the weight of restraints pulling his limbs down when the admissions had left his lips. She feels only conviction, “I’m coming home.”

It catches him entirely off guard.

She winces when he starts coughing. His first symptom since starting radiation. It’s a horrible sounding dry cough that makes her lungs ache just to hear.

The coughs fold him over, the force at which they leave his mouth is painful. What is it that makes coughing so painful? That’s never made much sense. It’s just air, right?

“Hotch?”

He rubs at his sternum, trying to externally soothe the muscles. “I’m okay,” he chokes. Shakily, his right-hand bears his weight as his left turns the faucet on. With his palm, he manages to sip a few mouthfuls of water. It just doesn’t stop the coughing. “I’m okay.”

She highly doubts that. There’s not a single thing about what she just heard that sounds “okay” by anyone standards-- certainly not his. “Are you going to work like this?” she asks. It’s hard to believe he’d allow himself to be seen in any state that isn’t tip-top shape. On that note, she also knows that way too good at putting on a show, and, for profilers, the team sucks at making that distinction.

The anger that evokes in him is undue. Admittedly, he overreacts. “I said I’m fine,” he barks. “I don’t need you checking in on me, Prentiss. I don’t need you here, too!” To watch. It’s bad enough, okay? That he’s going to have to tell his six-year-old son that he’s dying. Each morning a little more than the last and some days feel like he’s already half-lowered into the ground.

And the others. Reid and those sad eyes. The way Morgan won’t be able to look at him, just avert his gaze and storm out of the room. Dave’s crushing hug and JJ’s silent tears. Garcia… He can only imagine the raging in-betweens of what the news will do to her. Stress baking cookies he won’t be able to stomach. Knitting him hats, sweaters, and blankets with feverish vigor that he won’t be able to escape.

He could use one of Garcia’s love knitted blankets right about now.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he relaxes his tight grip on the sink. Knuckles paled and fingers aching.

“Sorry,” Emily finally manages after the long moments of silence.

Hotch hangs his head, biting his lip hard to stop the flow of emotions trying to work their way up. “No,” he rasps, thickly. He sniffles, scoffing when he rubs his eyes with the back of his wrist, finding tears. “That was… inexcusable. I’m so sorry,” he leans down, body in half as he rests his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

This doesn’t even feel like his body anymore.

“Aaron?”

There are tears streaming down his face, he’s too tired to fight them off. “Hmm?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in agreeance, unable to trust his voice.

“Take it easy, okay? I love you.”

The line dies before he can hasten out a reply.

--------------------------------

She’s been waiting on a reason to leave London for longer than she’s willing to admit.

Her dying friend proves to be reason enough.

Clyde has obvious mixed feelings but he can’t hold her back. He and Hotch had gotten set on the wrong foot. The rivalry between the two men is childish but endearing. Almost nothing has made her feel as loved as the proud smiles they both wear when she greets them. Clyde overwhelmingly pleased he’d won her back to London and Hotch smug she’ll travel hours to come to see him (she hadn’t done that for Clyde).

Almost nothing beats that.

“Emily!”

Her eyes are scanning the crowd before her, searching for her mismatched ragtag family. Sore thumbs, bobbing up and down in the crowd, they wave her to them. She notices he’s not there immediately.

“Princess,” Morgan sighs her name into her hair and she turns her face into his shoulder. Drawing in the strength she can feel wavering with a new wave of anxiety washing over her. It helps that they’re here. Derek’s arms wrapped around her after what feels like a lifetime away.

It’s only taken her three decades but she’s found her family and she’s not letting anything drag her away this time.

Garcia pushes at Morgan, causing a choked laugh out of them all. “Stop hogging all the Emily-lovings!”

Morgan smirks, trying to hide the relief swelling in his eyes like tears. He gets one more good look of her, eyes combing over her before parting with a sad smile. Relieved.

There’s a blur of motion. She’s pulled to each of them.

Garcia hugs like she’s trying to crush ribs and Emily lets her.

Hugging Dave brings tears to her eyes. Fuck, she’s missed them.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Emily threatens when she spots Reid near the edge. Pulling him close she rests her head against his shoulder, happy when he squeezes her back. “I’ve missed you, boy wonder.” Her genius. Just as scrawny as when she left him. She doesn’t want to do that again anytime soon.

Dave claps his hands together, grabbing one of the three bags she’d dropped. “Let’s get lunch, kiddos. We can talk about London.” He winks at Emily and she knows that this is going to spin into a conversation about potential love interests. She hasn’t had love on the brain in a while.

London… not everything she wishes it was. Cold and rainy. Relentlessly.

For the first month, she was over there, all she wanted was to come home. She just kept waiting for the rain to ease up. Then there should be that wet, hot humidity that clings to everything. She’d hated that before but now she’d just give anything to have it. For Reid to drag her out for coffee and the sun to bring out the chipper inflection in Garcia’s voice.

How the sun looked on Jack and Henry’s little head when she’d run around the park with them.

Fuck London, she’s just glad to be home.

“So,” she’s allowed them their fill of questions. Things about INTERPOL and if she’s still leaning heavily on take out food or if she’s managed even the faintest bit of finesse concerning cooking (she hasn’t). Leaning onto her elbows, she asks the question that’s been bugging her for hours. “Where’s Hotch?”

Dave leans back in his chair and JJ’s the first to crack. Of course, her poker face just isn’t that great. Her eyes move to Dave, concern written across her face. They might not know but it’s not that hard to figure out they know something isn’t right.

Reid shifts uncomfortably, averting his eyes, and focus.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Dave informs her. He settles back in his chair, arms crossing on his chest. “He’s…” he sighs tiredly. For a moment he just shakes his head. Rubbing a hand over the coarse hair on his face and then rubbing at his eyes. “He’s Aaron,” Dave mumbles. “Complicated and… reserved.” He looks at her now, zeroed in on just her. Just them.

Her heart races at just the thought of them knowing.

JJ clears her throat. She distracts her worry with rubbing her nail at the glass. “He says he’s at meetings,” she tells Emily. “Says--” she shakes her head, flustered. Upset. Pulling in a breath, she shakes softly as it comes in. “Every day, he sends me an update email. Just a list of things he expects to get done for the day or places he might be.” JJ tucks a strand of her hair back from her face. “Our jobs circle around each other, a lot. It makes my life easier if I can find him without running all over the place.”

Morgan turns his head, away from the conversation. Wishing to be uninvolved but unable to escape.

“He’s lying,” JJ concludes. She worries her lip with her teeth. “His lists are…” her eyebrows furrow as she struggles to say exactly what she means. “Last week,” she says with a nod, having come up with her perfect example. “He said he’d be in a meeting. Didn’t tell me where, he always tells me where.” Her eyes scan over the table, looking for more. “Something’s wrong and he won’t tell us.”

Morgan huffs, shifted now so that his arms are wrapped tightly around himself. His legs crossed, even. Distant. “I don’t see why we don’t just let him be.” His tone betrays what he’s really feeling. That anger and the vulnerability. His words are reflexive. He’s always pushed away when things get tough.

Emily wants to rise to his defense or to say anything but she can’t.

“Reid went into his office yesterday--”

Reid flinches. The memory or the feeling, he draws himself in. Shielding himself from whatever is being said.

Garcia looks down at her lap.

“He was asleep at his desk,” Dave finishes, despite seeing just how uncomfortable Garcia and Reid look. “Out like a-- Asleep like he hadn’t rested in a while. It took-- I had to shake him awake. He was warm to the touch and shaking.” Dave looks down to the table. “Shaking. He was weak and I’d known,” he looks up, frowning sadly. “I’d known something was wrong before but whatever is, we’ve got to get to the bottom of it.”

The bottom of it… God, they’re going to be devastated.

Lunch brightens. It’s forced to when the conversation shifts to the children. To Henry starting fourth grade and Jack’s in middle school now. Since when did those babies grow up?

Sooner than maybe she’s ready for it, she has to leave them. She’s too tired, too jet-lagged.

And maybe… Maybe she’s ready to bother Hotch. To reacquaint herself with his grumpy, silent nature. Isn’t it silly to think she’d hated him once?

Now she knows where his house keys are hidden.

The key hits the lock and she realizes how this might not be as great of a plan as she had planned it to be. “Hotch,” she calls into the dark. She peaks around, hoping if he’s home he’s not on edge. She’s seen him hypervigilant, she knows this is an awful plan. Even calling ahead might not have been enough. So, it’s more than brave for her to just come barging in.

She puts her back near the coat rack, still hunched into herself in case he comes barreling around the corner. He doesn’t. “Aaron?” His car is out front, despite the darkness of the room suggesting the house is empty. The blinds are drawn shut, blocking all-natural light into the house. The air is cool. “Aaron if you’re here please, please don’t shoot me.”

Shutting the door behind her, she progresses into the living room. The creaking of floorboards draws her attention to the other side of the house and she spots him.

He comes around the corner of the hall, from the direction of his room. Tired eyes move up to find her, his lip quirks into half a smile. “Emily,” he greets under his breath. He’d heard the door open but the binds weighing his wrist and ankles to the bed had been too much for him to lift. Pained and slowed, he’d made his way to figure out who was home.

Certain it’s not Jack, he should have had a little more trepidation about coming out here to investigate.

She approaches him slowly, soaking in every line and angle of his body. The way he’s favoring his right side is a new thing but the crescent moons under his eyes are a comforting familiarity. Pulling in a breath, she drags her eyes all the way up to him. He’s lost some weight and it just makes his cheekbones that much more hauntingly sharp. It draws attention to the scars on his face, thin and aged.

With a smile, she shakes her head at him. “Just as ugly as when I left,” she informs him.

He smiles tiredly, sighing at her playful taunt. It makes the hug she pulls him into relieving. The aches and chills he’s felt all day lessen as she wraps her arms around him. Something about the way her hand cups the back of his neck while the other rubs his up along his spine.

She’s standing on the tips of her toes, stretching to get to him. He leans down into her, closing his eyes. She just holds him that much closer. Against her, she can feel the beating of his heart. The way his nerves had amped his heart rate up and now, as the beat slows, the way he calms under her touch.

“How are you?” she asks quietly. They pull apart and she feels the absence of his warmth immediately.

He pulls in a weak breath, one he lets out a strangled cough. Shakes his head and offers a shrug. “I’m okay,” he assures her.

She doesn’t fail to notice how his right hand shakily reaches out to steady him against the wall. They’ve never agreed on the definition of okay and, so, it’s not that surprising they wouldn’t now.

Burying a cough into the elbow of his arm, he starts to tremble. His breathing takes a heavy quality as he stands there. It takes only a moment for him to draw himself up to his full height, swallowing down against the pain and forcing his body to bend to his will. If she didn’t know better, nothing would look wrong at all.

“Can I get you anything,” he asks, clenching his teeth to keep steady despite how exhausted he feels. “How long are you staying?” He knows she won’t actually answer that first question, so he steps by her and lets her follow him into the kitchen. Hyper-aware of the way he moves his body. Trying to look normal instead of stiff.

She follows him, watching for clues in the slips of his armor. One of the many benefits of having known him so long and knowing him well is that he can’t get much past her. “I’m staying for as long as I’m welcome,” she replies. It’s better than the truth, that she’s staying until he’s better.

He appreciates her choice of wording even if the truth is still there underneath it all. Leaving him the burden of the situation, which is considerably worse.

He sticks with a simple hum of understanding, knowing she’ll understand it as such. “Staying where,” he asks. Suspecting he already knows the answer. “Here?” He fills two glasses with water, desperate to soothe his dry mouth. Turning to her, he offers the first glass.

She accepts the glass without comment. “I didn’t think about where,” she lies, smirking over the glass rim at him. He shakes his head but doesn't comment. “Here would be good though.” She looks up at him and he shakes his head with a smile. “It would!” she defends. “I know you miss me and I could help around with Jack. If you won’t admit to it, I know he will.” Her smile twists mischievously, “besides, he’s my favorite Hotchner and I’ll make time to spend with him regardless of where I stay.”

He shakes his head but he’s already formulating how to move the guest room around to accommodate her. There’s not much in there. A bed with some regular looking sheets and two or three boxes of random things.

Putting her glass down on the counter she sighs. “We don’t need to worry about that right now.” Nodding her head back towards the hall she says, “you look miserable. Go to bed.”

He realizes that while she was talking he’s slowly started leaning more and more on the counter. Accumulating a lean to ease the aches wracking his body. She’s right. He looks miserable because he is. He’s exhausted.

“Do you need to take any medication?”

He shakes his head, not letting it bother him when she tucks herself against his side. Allowing him to lean into her. He doesn't but the warmth her body brings is pleasant enough to keep him going.

He took everything he needed this morning. The medicine for the radiation rash he’s developed across his chest, the preventative pills for the fibrosis that might build in his lungs because of the radiation, and a whole other list of things he can’t really remember. He just has the bottles on his nightstand and knows that most require two dosages.

His bed is warm and soft, his eyes closing against his will. Logically, he knows he shouldn’t let her see him like this. This is his battle and he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with it. There’s a comfort in sharing, though. Rather it be the brush of her fingers on his forehead, pushing back his crazy or the kiss she presses to his temple before whispering “get some sleep, Hotch”.

And, honestly, he’s tired of being alone.

“Emily?”

She turns in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

Someone has to be here. She wants to be here. “You’d do the same for me.”

--------------------------------

Legs crossed, hair pulled into a half-assed knot atop her head she watches him curiously. He’s up an hour later than she’d expected. No coffee to go along with the egg he has for breakfast. Between them, they have an entire morning spent without nearly a word. Just a simple, “do you want an egg?”

He gets ready but not for work.

“What’re you doing?”

She gets ready too. For what, she’s not sure, but she’s interested none-the-less. Even if she thinks she knows the answer. It’s very interesting, she thinks, to step into the living room and find him staring dumbly back at her. No, not interesting. It’s fun.

Stepping around him, she pulls her coat off the rack. “Isn’t it obvious,” she asks, slipping her feet into the boots. “I’m coming with you.”

Flannel and jeans aren’t his typical go to but it’s a relaxed look. One she finds she doesn't hate.

He crosses his arms on his chest, eyebrows furrowed and a stern frown in place. Startlingly in control for a man she watched choke down half an egg before calling it quits. He hadn’t even had coffee. Now he shifts his weight, left to right. “Emily this isn’t--” he just stands with his mouth open. After a moment he shakes his head. “You don’t want to come.”

So it is treatment.

She pulls her jacket tight around her shoulders and without comment pulls his down too, offering it to him.

He takes it with a sigh, shaking his head, but pulling the sleeves over his flannel. With a sigh, he grabs his keys off the counter. He points a finger at her, looking every bit the father scolding a troublemaking child. “You’re not coming inside the hospital. It’ll be an hour. You’ll drive someplace else. I’ll text you when it’s done.”

She smirks, pleased she’s won this round. Placing two fingers to her temple, she gives him a mocking salute. “Aye-aye captain!” Today, she won’t push. He’s come this far, weeks into his therapy. If he needs some time, then he needs time. Just so long as he knows she’s here now.

Leaving him is harder than she anticipated.

She takes his seat, half-listening as he stands at the door.

“There an outlet about five minutes North,” he says. He watches her move the seat around. Trying to drag the seat closer to the steering wheel so she can actually reach the pedals. “It’ll give you something to do. There’s a bookshop up there too. I-- I take Jack there.” He runs a hand over his hair. “A coffee shop and a smoothie stand and--”

She catches sight of the grey through his hair. Looking away, she clenches her jaw. Worry the edge of the steering wheel. “Aaron,” she finally stops him. “I can take care of myself for an hour. I’m a big girl.”

He shakes his head, ducking to so she can’t see the blush creep up his cheek. “Right,” he manages. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

She nods, “an hour.” She waits until she can’t see him. Those doors closing behind him. Swallowing him whole. It’s just an hour.

She was gone for an entire year. More than that really. Years. What are years to a single hour?

The coffee shop is quant. She can imagine him here. Tucked away within the stacks of books. Reid would like it here. The covers are old but, she thinks with a smile, he’d find something, not to date. Seeking a classic and turning away when it’s not in its original translation. That’s where Garcia has always been his balance. She’d pull him from a rant and sit him down with a cup of tea.

How had Emily ever left them?

Her hands tremble as she runs a finger over those old book backs. Mostly, she wonders what Hotch must be thinking. Heaven or hell. If all the work they’ve put into this job will account for anything at all in the end.

If it’ll hurt.

Her phone goes off. Done. Simple enough.

“I brought you a smoothie!” She’s got his sunglasses on when she pulls up. Not even offering to get out of the driver’s side.

He’s hurting more than he cares to admit. Tired and the rash on his chest burns. Seeing her pull up, he’s glad she doesn’t do more than hook her finger into the sunglasses and peer over their edge at him. Climbing into the car he takes one look at the smoothie and shakes his head. It’s dark green and even if he were hungry he’s sure that isn’t very good. “No thank you,” he mumbles, leaning back into the seat. He tilts his head against the rest.

She’s not really in the mood for arguments. More so, he’s just gotten out of treatment and all he’s had is an egg. “You’ll drink it,” she informs him, putting the car in drive. “Maybe not now but eventually.”

He grunts. Doubt that. If he’s going to manage to stomach anything, it’s not going to be that. Besides, he’d got plans: take a nap. That slowly goes down the drain.

Emily turns up the radio, humming along to a song he doesn’t recognize.

Turning his head, he watches her drive. He hasn’t told her yet but he’s very thankful she’s come back. Even if he’s slightly tainted the return with… She’s here taking over his life. Worming her way into his spare bedroom. Force-feeding him weird green smoothies. He doubts she’ll stop there.

“Hotch?” He doesn’t wake up when she shuts the car off. From there on, she’s gentle. Careful as she extracts herself from the car. “Aaron,” she rubs his shoulder.

He pulls in a small breath, turning slowly to her. Half-lidded eyes find her, confused.

When they left the house he’d looked better. Better than now. Not so exhausted.

“You fell asleep,” she informs him, backing up as he sits up. He has to use the seat to get there but he makes it happen. She waits back for him, letting him take his time getting out of the car. All while holding that damn smoothie she’s convinced she’s going to make him drink.

He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes when his phone goes off in his pocket. She turns at the door, waiting. He motions her on with a wave, taking the call. “Agent Hotchner speaking.”

She stops for a moment to watch him pull in the whole persona. Not Aaron who just fell asleep in the car but Hotch the rock. It’s sad, really, how quickly the one consumes the other.

She’s reading on the couch when he comes in.

He doesn’t say anything as he slips past, going back towards his room. He comes right back out. The loosely buttoned flannel is forgotten, replaced by a suit across his thin shoulders. Once, those suits had pronounced the sharpness of his body. The way his shoulders sit strong and straight. Now, that jacket doesn’t even look like it belongs to him.

“Where are you going?”

He only glances at her, ducking his head back to the task at hand-- putting on shoes.

She gets up off the couch, flipping the book text down. “Aaron,” she comes around the side. “You can’t go out there.” To work. It’s not healthy to go out there. He had fallen asleep on the ride home, not even twenty minutes ago. He won’t manage out there.

He turns to her as she steps into the room, scowl in place and a look of indifference pulled between them. All the protection he can garner for himself. “It’s not up for debate,” he replies. As if this is out of his control. He just can’t help but think it would be easier this way. It would hurt less, dying out there. A coherent death. He’d feel it. Quick and overwhelming.

But coherent. He’d know.

Not in a hospital. More machine than man. Unable to speak or too weak to think.

It would be better to die a hero.

“Aaron,” she calls, he’s just walking away. “You’re being unreasonable.” She wants to scream. To shout at him or grab him the collar of that oversized dress shirt and shake him. Force him to realize that he’s being stupid. Does he think she’s stupid? They both know this is self-destruction. Skipping treatment. Going into the field. All for this stupid image that he’s convinced himself is necessary. For who? Huh?

It’s better to suffer around people you love than to have them bury you. The only burden is the weight of your casket across their shoulders.

He turns, teeth clenched. Jaw set. “Am I?” he asks. His face has darkened, his cheekbones drawing his cheeks in. “I’m going,” he informs her, “regardless of whatever it is you have to say.”

He won’t look at her. That’s how she knows that no matter how illogical he’s being, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Back turned to her, he stops for just a moment. He knows this isn’t what he should. That this is neither his best option nor the right choice. Still, he opens the door. Stepping out he turns his head, eyes cast to the side. “I--” he shakes his head, he doesn’t know.

Before he can shut the door she calls his name out, fear overriding the anger. “Aaron,” she clenches her fists at her side. “Please be safe.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. Glancing at her, he nods his head. At least he has the decency not to lie to her. To pretend this is anything but foolish and a death wish. He shuts the door behind himself without another word.

Leaving her standing there.

Waiting.

She’ll still be waiting that night when Reid calls her. Incoherent.

“I-- I don’t know what’s wrong Emily! He won’t-- He’s bleeding and I--I… He said to call you.”

She shouldn’t have let him leave.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

#tw cancer #haha assholes #I bet you thought I wouldn't hit you with a cliffhanger #emily is super involved in this chapter but the next chapter has lot more of the team in it #aaron hotchner hiding medical issues like he would #stubborn ass #you gotta love him tho #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #derek morgan #david rossi #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #spencer reid #bau

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

Perfection, My Only Direction

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit Notes: I couldn’t leave this verse alone after I wrote ‘The Way You Hold Me’, so here we are! I love dabbling with Peter’s perspective & enjoyed every second of this little beauty. Word Count: ~5.3k Warnings: general career unrest, sexy times Summary:

Three years into their marriage, Peter finds himself unhappy with his career. Like the good husband he is, Tony anticipates his needs and things get fluffy.

Or - the one where Peter is anxious and Tony is the best security blanket out there.

Read it here on AO3

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“You’ve got to keep quiet, Pete.”

Biting hard on his bottom lip, Peter gripped his office chair a little tighter – Tony’s thrusts were pushing him closer to the desk with every grind of his hips. Despite the office upgrade with the promotion he recently received, Peter knew the walls were still paper thin. The delicious sounds of their coupling were unmistakable – anyone walking by or seeking him out would know exactly what was going on if he couldn’t keep a lid on it.

With that in mind, Peter reached back to grip Tony’s flexing hip with clenching fingers in hopes that the diversion of stimulus would keep the moans from falling from his lips. It didn’t matter, though – Tony knew all the spots and angles to drive him crazy and went out of his way to do exactly that in every moment like this; even when the risk of being found out was higher than most other times. Or maybe because of it.

The professional in him tried desperately to keep a firm line between business and pleasure – his reputation relied on his impeccable mind and the manners in which he treated both the people around him with and the information he presented. He wanted to keep things separate, he really did – yet, Tony posed a weakness within him – despite the resolve, Peter couldn’t ever say no (hell, he didn’t want to).

And that’s how he found himself with his suit pants around his ankles and Tony balls deep within him, his husband’s hands still partially covered in oil and grease from his morning hours spent in the shop. They were supposed to be twenty minutes into a nice lunch at one of the small restaurants on campus – every other day, Tony took a longer break to catch Peter during a time when he actually had seconds and brain bytes to give. Eight times out of ten, they sat across from each other to pick at and share whatever food they ordered. The rest of their lunch time attempts ended exactly like this – wrapped up in each other in one of the worst possible places for it.

A dead-on strike to his prostate brought Peter out of his lust-induced thoughts, the right-here, right-now of the moment crashing down upon him. The feeling of it punched an unavoidable shout of Tony’s name from deep within. “Fuck, I can’t keep quiet when you’re fucking me like this,” Peter groaned, his teeth digging into the flesh of his lip almost enough to break through.

His stomach tightened with Tony’s next thrust, his words obviously amping up Tony’s desire – his own grip on control slipped with every slick sound of flesh meeting flesh. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” Tony got out through a harshly panted breath. “You drive me insane.” He punctuated his words with hard shoves of his hips, the space between them narrowing down even more as Tony’s pace got faster, the length of his strokes shortening in exchange for maximizing flesh against flesh.

By now, there was no mistaking what was happening behind the closed door of his office. His chair clunked against the front of his desk with every thrust and when the furniture wasn’t causing the ruckus, Tony’s muttered curses and Peter’s answering groans were pretty telling. Peter didn’t have the thought power or give a shit to care much, though – not when he was barreling headfirst towards a most exquisite orgasm.

The hands on his hips dug in tightly the closer Tony got, his grease stained fingers leaving behind both grime and bruises – the combination of sight and scent one of Peter’s favorite things. Each clench and tightening of Tony’s fingers brought Peter a step closer to the edge, and when sharp teeth dug into his shoulder to stop noises that couldn’t be ignored, he finally allowed himself to let go. A heart-throbbing release smacked him over the head, the feeling of it blinding him for several long minutes.

Soft lips on his neck kept him grounded through the coming down process, Tony’s stubble and its slight tickle reminding Peter exactly where he was and who was wrapped tightly around him. Coming back to it, Peter took in the chaos of his desk, his most recent papers strewn across it, his pens scattered carelessly upon the floor from the clever sweep of Tony’s hand. He let the aftereffects of physical greatness stick around instead of letting any sort of anxiety overtake him. The shamble around him would need to be set to right, but the moment was consumed by them, by their connection – the chaos of it be damned.

After more than ten years of aggressive academic pursuit, Peter found himself at the tail end of the bell curve, his excitement for the work not nearly as prominent as it was at the beginning of his career. Though cheesy, Peter’s thoughts were consumed with all things Tony. The romance between them hadn’t dwindled as the years together went by. Instead, they seemed to grow closer as time went on – Tony cared so selflessly about him and simply enjoyed everything about his person; quirks and all.

And when he thought about Tony, Peter couldn’t deny how all-consuming his passion and knowledge were. Aside from being unfairly good at taking care of him, Tony had a way about him – his thoughts and ideas were manifested so interestingly – so much so that Peter couldn’t get enough of the puzzle he presented. Where some of his previous relationships lacked in excitement and unpredictability, things with Tony were ever changing and constantly entertaining. When he thought about the likelihood of that shifting, Peter couldn’t imagine it. Not when a single day with Tony ever felt the same. Tony kept himself on his toes, there wasn’t a single doubt that he’d continue to do so with Peter, too.

With the new position within his department, hours were getting longer and the demands upon his time didn’t seem as worth it as they did before. He worked for years to sit in the desk he now occupied, and yet – things just weren’t what he thought they might be. The exploration of information he assumed he would embark upon was riddled with administrative bull shit and irritating bureaucracy that drifted so far from his interests. The shining light at the end of the tunnel didn’t gleam as bright as he imagined it would.

Unwillingly to admit to himself how much he truly didn’t want to continue on in his position, Peter forced himself to continue giving it his all. Despite hating more than most hours of his day, he moved forward. How did one come to terms with years of work panning out in such an unsatisfying way? And after he let himself admit that he was unhappy, what happened next? He thought briefly about bringing it up with Tony but didn’t want to burden him with such indecision. The man already ran his own business that demanded so much time and effort from him – how could Peter add another set of problems to his pile?

The freedom in which he allowed himself to behave recklessly in his workplace showed him how conflicted he really was – the lack of give a damn would’ve brought an uneasy feeling to his stomach in his earlier years. Yet, caring about it seemed like more work than it was worth – his job kind of felt like that, too.

Sighing, Peter leaned into his now cleaned up desk, the papers and such put to right before Tony kissed him goodbye and left with a self-satisfied smirk. The high of being with his striking husband lasted a couple of hours, pulling him through the bulk of his meetings. He even managed to pay attention to some of the things being passed back and forth between stuffy colleagues and university behemoths. Tony’s influence always played a big part in the calm demeanor he portrayed and seemed to be doing it even more so since his shift into the new, more important role.

When the end of the day finally came, Peter rushed from his office, the movement of his feet faster than he ever remembered from times before. Exiting the building, he found that he could finally breath – the weight of his responsibilities shrugged from his shoulders and unable to pull him down any longer. Long strides got him to his car, his bag hitting the passenger seat as he settled behind the wheel. A couple of routine clicks had his phone connected to the car’s Bluetooth and Tony’s number dialed. Their new house was a bit farther from the university than the previous apartment, so Peter spent the commute with Tony in his ear more often times than not.

An all too familiar voice sounded across the line after a couple of rings, the warm timbre of it sending a shiver down Peter’s spine.

“Hey, Petey,” Tony answered, his tone soft, filled to the brim with affection.

“Hey, yourself,” Peter replied through a long exhale, another heavy mass falling off of him now that the connection was sparked again. “I’m so ready to be home. Spinelli talked for ages about a new form of midterm that immediately got voted down by the board. I wasn’t aware you could waste minutes of life like that.”

His last statement dragged a chuckle from Tony’s chest – a steady warmth wrapped around him as the sound settled across the cell connection. “The last dinner party we went to, he dissected the merits of the use of an old-fashioned inkwell pen – I’m not surprised.”

Just like that, the ease in which conversation flowed between them erased all of his tension, the tightness of his muscles and nerves seeping from him bit by bit. By the time he walked through the front door, he felt loose and relaxed, Peter more than ready for whatever the night (or Tony) would throw their way.

Despite the respite of that night, however, Peter found his interest in his job dwindling even more as the weeks passed. The bright luster of the academic world seemed to dull the further he delved into it. Getting his doctorate felt like a dream while in the trenches of a dissertation and TAing a handful of classes. At the time, he felt refreshed and eager to finally get what he worked so hard for – access to the bigger world of knowledge and understanding. The novelty of it left so many things to be desired.

And now – he found that he didn’t desire them anymore. Regardless of the fact that he spent his entire adult life navigating the world in the classrooms of first Cornell and then NYU, his soul craved something more. Until meeting Tony, Peter hadn’t looked much farther than the safety of a classroom – and boy did he want to. The few times throughout their marriage that Peter could get away, Tony swept him off to places he didn’t think to even want to travel to. They played tourist in London and drank way too much at an all-inclusive resort in the Bahamas.

He couldn’t decide what created the wanderlust, whether it was strictly Tony’s influence, but Peter felt a deep desire to experience anything and everything the world had to offer. Many years were spent acquiring knowledge and learning about so many different things. Yet, the times he felt like he was learning the most took place outside the walls of his lecture hall. Perhaps he craved a different style of learning – or maybe he just wanted to see the world and experience everything he possibly could with his best friend.

Whatever the reason, Peter felt himself drifting further away from the familiar – his eyes set more firmly on anything else, something outside of the small little world he looked to have outgrown. Some parts of him already accepted the inevitable – despite the big promotion he just received, he wouldn’t be staying in the field for much longer. The other pieces of him, though – they struggled with letting go of the years of hard work.

Stepping away from the profession wouldn’t giving up that work – rationally, he understood that. The mere idea of being anywhere else made his heart beat a little faster for so many different reasons. One of his biggest struggles came from the fact that he hadn’t told Tony anything about the thoughts rampaging through his head.

Despite that, Peter knew that Tony could feel that something was up. In the grand scheme of things, their collective time together was relatively minimal – three years didn’t a lifetime make. The one thing that was continuously nursed between them, however, was their familiarity with each other. Many couples claimed to be best friends, to know each other like the back of their own hands – yet most fell short. Peter felt like they could claim, with some intense certainty, that their grasp on that concept was tighter than most.

One thing Peter noticed the longer he lived and loved Tony was the fact that there were very few people who actually knew him. Happy, his right-hand man, knew a few more pieces than the rest of the world, but Peter – he got the backstage access to everything that Tony was, wished he could be, and most assuredly wasn’t. Though Peter functioned very similarly, he didn’t struggle with giving up small parts of himself the same way that Tony did. Which – in the grand scheme of things – made their closeness worth even more than imaginable. Tony didn’t mind the curtain being pulled back entirely where Peter was concerned.

Which is why, after several weeks of struggling silently, Peter finally decided it was about time to finally let Tony in on his worries and next steps – the support he knew he’d receive felt necessary now. And that wasn’t to say it wasn’t integral to his existence before; Tony stood beside him and rooted for him in his silently contemplative way. Just being there meant more than Peter wanted to honestly claim.

Now, though – now, he understood how much he needed Tony to not only support him but keep him standing on his feet until he found the next thing – or ran back to whatever university that would take him screaming with both distaste and the comforting feeling of unchanging security. For his sanity’s sake, Peter hoped the next step wouldn’t take him careening down the same useless path, but one never really knew.

Later that evening, Peter got home to a completely lit up house, the entire front entryway almost blinding in how bright it actually was. Squinting against the shine for just a second, Peter felt his eyebrows stay drawn up, a look of confusion slipping across his face. Peter usually beat Tony home on Friday nights, especially those that he decided to dip out of his office a little earlier than actually expected. He quickly shouldered his backpack, the thought of seeing Tony making him feel giddy for the first time since he left the house.

Stepping into the house, Peter let a soft smile slip across his lips. Not only was Tony home, his husband went to the trouble of baking his favorite cookies, if the smell of fresh snickerdoodles was to be believed. His nose practically dragged him into the kitchen, Peter’s lack of lunch making itself known now that the tantalizing scent of cinnamon and sugar sat deliciously in the air.

“It smells amazing in here,” Peter said in the way of greeting, his feet carrying him further in the kitchen as he spoke. Sidling up to Tony, Peter pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, the hand not settling on his husband’s hip stretching out to grab two of the still oven-warm cookies off of the cooling rack. “Tastes good, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows, the first of the cookies demolished in a couple of big bites.

Peter forced himself to slow down on the second one by dividing his attention between the scrumptious cinnamon-sugar on his fingers and the delectable man standing in front of him. When he found his hands empty again, Peter finally took notice of the grains of sugar he left behind on Tony’s skin as he kissed and nipped at all of the supple spots he couldn’t keep himself away from.

“Mm, hello to you, too,” Tony mumbled after a while, the moments of silently sucking up the touch and affection gone now. “I thought you could use a little pick me up. I know you had that meeting you hate today.” He felt blindly for Peter’s hand on his hip, their fingers tangling when Tony managed to grasp it with his own. “And the taste of cinnamon off your lips, well…”

Without much warning, Tony turned in Peter’s arms, his butter-greasy hands settling on the nape of a long neck. Their lips met without prompting, the stubble of Tony’s salt and pepper goatee never failing to tickle Peter with every pass and caress. His own hands wandered until they were digging ever so slightly under the hem of Tony’s black denims, the tightness affording him the smallest bit of warm skin against the pads of his fingertips.

They enjoyed the softness of their reunion until the loud blaring of the oven pulled them apart, a soft groan left Peter’s lips when Tony took a step back, the space between them becoming too much with every second. “It’s the last batch,” Tony stated like he knew and understood the dilemma happening within the confines of his mind. “Go get changed. I know we talked about going out tonight, but I think thai food and Netflix might be our best bet.”

Recognizing the gesture for what it was, Peter nodded at him gratefully, his eyes linger on the reassuring expression on Tony’s face. Tony’s eerie ability to anticipate his needs never stopped throwing him off in the best way.

Tired fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt as he walked back towards their bedroom, the garment hitting the floor the first step into their sanctuary. His shoes, socks, pants, and boxer-briefs followed, Peter baring himself completely by the time he walked into their en suite. The big glass shower had been one of the main selling points of the house – thinking about how many times they’d enjoyed the space pulling a huge grin to his face. The walls and door steamed up when he cranked on the water – despite the burning sear, Peter loved to step into a scalding hot shower.

The floating thoughts in his head drifted away under the warm water. Peter took his time soaping up with Tony’s soap, and then later with the fancy tea tree shampoo that overtook his ordinary drug store variety 2-in-1 a long time ago. The tingle on his scalp let a little more of the stress roll off of him – he appreciated the tactile burn of the oil in his pores and the depth of his stomach.

With Tony on the brain, Peter dried himself off and tucked into a plain t-shirt and the softest pair of flannel pajama bottoms, his favorite red and blue color pattern slotting in that final bit of decompression he needed to face the rest of the evening. He slipped into his favorite Ugg slippers and wandered back into the living room – which was dimly lit, the main light completely off with only a few candles scattered around to provide that ambient light. His lips tugged up at the corners, a soft and deliciously warm feeling settling over him at the gesture.

Hands on his hips distracted him from his reverie, the earthy smell of grease that Tony couldn’t quite escape flooding his nose pleasantly. “Feeling romantic?” Peter questioned. One of his hands reached behind him, Peter’s fingers digging into the thickness of Tony’s hair. He gripped the graying locks lightly, the softness there adding to the warmth in his chest.

“Always am when you’re around,” Tony mumbled into the angle created by Peter’s neck and shoulder, his nose pressing into the skin there to take a long, deep breath. Tony’s hands tightened around him for a second, the squeeze something Peter usually only experienced in the heated moments of their burning passion. Yet, he felt no twitch of arousal, just a gentle hum of appreciation for the soft touches and intimate details.

The TV was already on and resting on the Netflix wait screen, the square labelled “Petey” glowing in anticipation of being chosen and artfully navigated when they sat down to enjoy whatever bull shit Peter decided for the evening. His favorite wine was uncorked and left to breathe on the coffee table, his favorite set of glasses waiting to be used. He loved every small thought put into the set up and must’ve said so out loud if the grin on Tony’s face was anything to go by.

They were now facing each other, Peter’s hands wrapped tightly around Tony’s neck and his husband’s own settled lightly on his lower back. “You’ve been stressed, baby. Let me take care of you.” Tony used a finger to tilt his chin up, each word punctuated with barely there kisses to his lips.

Peter let a genuine smile slip across his lips, the muscles of his face already a little sore from the now apparent lack of use. It never crossed his mind that something as simple as a smile could retreat without his notice. Blinking, Peter took in Tony’s face, the expression on it affectionate and the slightest bit relieved.

“There it is. I haven’t seen that grin in months.”

Then – Tony pressed a heated kiss against his lips, the hands-on Peter’s hips gripping him tightly. A flash of heat sparked between them; the intimacy of the moment not lost on either of them. Just as Peter took a step closer, the annoying buzz of their doorbell cut him short. Groaning slightly, Tony shot him a frustrating wink as he stepped away, his hands in the air in a silent surrender. “We’ll finish that later,” Tony promised, his eyes shining brightly.

An hour later found them snuggled together on the couch, the remnants of their thai food on the coffee table in front of them. The slight flicker of the candlelight keeping the room nicely shadowed, like the world revolved only around their small little living room – like the two of them were the only ones to ever inhabit it. For the first time in what felt like months, Peter found himself completely calm, his brain and anxieties included.

“I didn’t know how much I needed this until right this second,” Peter remarked softly, the thought of disrupting the peace of the room with the loud pitch of his voice almost devastating. He ran his hand through Tony’s graying locks, his husband moving into the touch with every slight movement. “How do you always know?” It took Tony a few minutes to reply, the man stuck between leaning into Peter’s clever hands and thinking thoughtfully – the slight crease between his eyebrows the only sign of the latter. Like so many, Peter appreciated this part of Tony, the reverence and thoughtfulness that he brought to their relationship. Words meant something to him and each one played its own role in their conversations. Tony didn’t sling them around carelessly like so many others before him.

Peter let him shift when he felt the slight pressure of Tony’s arm against his side. His husband propped himself up on an elbow, the two of them more equally footed now. “I know you, Pete. I know that you love me and that hasn’t been lacking. But you get home and look so gloomy – like the realization of how shitty the world can be is finally flashing right before your eyes. Don’t get me wrong – “ Tony shifted again, his voice breaking ever so slightly as he wrapped a hand around Peter’s shoulders. “Everyone has to experience the reality of that eventually – I just hoped you’d be spared it.”

His fingers brushed against what bare skin of Peter’s arm they could reach, the rough pads still something that brought him so much comfort. “I’ve been waiting to see if you’d eventually tell me about it – like you always do with everything else. When you didn’t, I thought a little nudge couldn’t hurt.” Tony paused then, his lips pressing against Peter’s forehead. “I just want you to be happy, Pete. That’s all that matters to me.”

Like the words were the opening of a floodgate, Peter found tears streaming down his face. Tucking his forehead against Tony’s neck, Peter let them fall, each second of frustration and distaste culminating into this one, very important moment. Tony held him through it all, his thumb moving to occasionally swipe the tears from Peter’s cheeks, the touch always soft, always soothing.

“I hate my job,” Peter mumbled after a while, his voice thick with tears yet to be cried and slightly muffled from his position against Tony’s skin. “I thought the world of academics would look so much better from the desk I’m sitting behind, but it just fucking sucks, instead. I spent all of that time working towards the ultimate trap. I know it’s there, waiting for me, and I don’t want to fall into it.”

“It’s frustrating when expectations don’t meet up with reality. Why do you think I run my own business?” Tony asked, his hand slipping to cup Peter’s cheek. “Sometimes, you have to take a step back to really see what you want, Petey.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, Tony never ceasing the loving strokes of his hand across Peter’s skin. His fingers eventually lulled Peter to sleep, the heaviness of the weight he carried over the last few weeks finally dropping to the floor completely to be dealt with later.

The very next morning, Peter woke up to a hand flung possessively over his hip, Tony’s grip on him tight even in the groggy, sleep-addled mornings. Smiling to himself, Peter gave the strong forearm a squeeze before he got himself out of bed and into his usual morning routine. By the time he showered, shaved, and got into his penguin suit for the day, Tony was just rolling over to slap off his own alarm, a warm and happy look on his face. “I won’t miss the grumpiness, but I might miss the suits,” Tony said, his eyes following Peter’s movement from one side of the room to the other. “You look damn good in a tie, husband.”

Making sure the bulk of today’s tie (a black, maroon, and silver combo) pressed against Tony’s chest, Peter leaned down to give Tony a chaste kiss, the man’s lips a little sticky still from sleep. “They’re not going anywhere.” Peter shot him a wink, his hands moving to straighten the length of his jacket. “We won’t have to worry about making them dirty, either.”

Peter left the room to the sound of Tony’s laugh, the sound deep and resounding – the echo of it settling within his chest and keeping him company all the way through his traffic-riddled drive to work.

Several hours later, Peter walked out of his boss’s office, a soft smile on his face. He humbly discussed how much he appreciated the trust and confidence in him, but in the long run, didn’t see himself sitting behind that particular desk. And despite all of the worry and anxiety, Dr. Loughman came off understanding, the knowing look in his eye a lot like Tony’s the night before.

“Some people are born for different types of academic pursuits, Peter. You’ll find yours.”

With those words echoing in his ears, Peter promised to finish off the semester both in his current position and in the lecture hall before moving on to whatever venture came his way next. The thought should have scared him – hell, it did for months before. Yet, knowing how much better he felt having said the words and that, at the end of the day, Tony would still be there to stand against – Peter knew he was doing the right thing, both for himself and the life he planned to live with Tony by his side.

Unlike most days (except Friday), Peter got home before Tony. He quickly got his suit hung up and his comfy clothes on before making his way into the kitchen to start the famous Stark family sauce – Maria made sure he knew how to make it before she let him marry into the family. The memory made him smile and carried him through the couple of difficult parts of the process, almost like Maria was there, guiding him herself.

“It smells like my mother is here,” Tony said in the way of greeting a little while later. His eyes were wide, each cheek spattered with a slight pink from the cold of the day and the happiness he seemed to radiate wherever he went. Peter felt Tony press against his back before he could turn, the older man’s hands boxing him in against the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Pete. You’re looking much better today,” Tony whispered against the shell of his ear, the stubble above his lip pulling a shudder from Peter as he pressed back into the touch.

“I’m feeling better.”

Fiddling with the dials, Peter turned off the burner on the stove and turned in Tony’s arms, their lips sealing together seamlessly. “I gave my notice today. I’m going to finish out the semester and then decide what the hell comes next.”

Tony sucked in a long breath, his hands coming up to frame Peter’s cheeks. “And that’s what you want? That’s going to make you happy?”

The question brought a smile to his face – despite knowing just how much Peter meant it, Tony still felt the need to ask, to make sure. There weren’t many people in his life that Peter could say actually cared about his happiness, and none with the same capacity for it like Tony. Peter tightened his grip then, his hands squeezing Tony’s hips. “It’s what I want. Our life together is too good to stand around and be miserable in my own pursuits.”

“Good, then you’ll be open to new opportunities. I’ve been thinking about adding a research division to Stark Automotive. Want to see what I’m working on?”

Grinning, Peter started to steer Tony back towards their bedroom, the need for little space between them bigger than any sort of hunger for food or further conversation. The simple fact that Tony welcomed him into his life all of those years ago was enough. Yet, Tony had to take it one step further – though he never thought much about working with his husband, Peter found he liked the idea of joining Tony in that aspect of his life, too.

As he looked at the situation now, Peter wanted to shake himself – how could he let the anxiety eat at him the way he did when the most perfect support system stood by his side? Kissing Tony soundly as they collapsed onto the bed, Peter knew one thing for sure – as long as Tony was near, Peter could take on just about anything.

Especially the tricky clasp of Tony’s belt buckle.

#starker #goindownshipping #bobbie writes #my stuff #peter parker/tony stark #fluffy fluffiness #perfection - my only direction

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questionsonislam · 3 years

Note

Does Allah like aggressive people?

In sura Fatiha which is the first chapter of Quran, we are ordered to pray “Show us the straight way”. The destination is described with words that are different but close to each other in meaning; such as “moderate way”, “straight way”, “smooth way” and “justice”. Quran describes this way as “the way of Allah, to whom whatever in the skies and on earth belong.” And the way leads to Heaven.

True believers cite Fatiha in every part of prayers (salah) and ask to be directed to the straight way by Allah. Those who complete this way arrive in Heaven that is the land of unique bliss. Below this way is Hell. To whichever side one strays from the way, he falls down into the land of that terrible punishment.

By asking Allah to direct us to the straight way, we also ask Him to let us live our worldly lives on the straight way; that’s to say, we ask Him to let us cross al-Sirat (the bridge over Hell stretching to Heaven), which is sharper than a sword finer than hair, while on earth. Indeed, it is very difficult for us to keep our all works, deeds and words on the straight way. However, it is also impossible for us to cross this bridge in the hereafter unless we complete this sharp and fine way without straying too far.

Al-Sirat is built over Hell. And just like this, in front of our all deeds is Heaven and below them is Hell. Whatever we do straying from the way of Allah, we become sinner and rebellious. And this state in worldly life is the portent of Hell.

The straight way leads one to the land of content, the eternal land of true delights and bliss.

The straight way is the moderate way, free from all extremes. Is this not also the way which leads to happiness on earth? Is it possible for us to find happiness unless our body together with its all organs and our heart together with its all feelings are on the straight way?

Neither should our eyes be shortsighted nor should they be farsighted. Neither should our tension be high, nor should it be low… The electrical current of the mechanism which runs our brain should neither be low nor high. Our heart beats should be within definite limits. So is our body temperature…

All of the activities occurring in seventy trillion cells of ours should be on the straight way so that we can be occupied with other things, rather than occupying ourselves with the problems of our body. Otherwise, we will have to spend our life in clinics.

We are face to face with a trick, a deceiving game. There is an enemy hidden inside us. Although we feel right away what harms our body and hurry to find its cure, we cannot be as attentive towards moral diseases, which injure our hearts, stray our feelings from the straight way, and direct our mind to dangerous fields, as we are to bodily diseases. Even worse, we like them. This hidden enemy of us, which makes us mistake bad for good and drink poison in joy, is our lower-self. When this enemy inside us cooperates with devils from humankind and devils from the jinn, our soul weakens and strays from the straight way. As a matter of fact, the real danger for us is not the disturbance of our worldly peace, but loss of our happiness in the afterlife. Nevertheless, the lower-self manages to put it in the background and take the other to the foreground.

We are supplicating to our Lord to guide us to and keep us in the straight way, in spite of our enemies which never seem to tire. And we know that this can be realized only by “praying to and worshipping Him and asking for His help”.

I think that I never manage to forgive a friend of mine, who made a mistake against me. I feel like teaching him a precise lesson and take revenge on him. This thought leads me to this reality:

“While I cannot silence a single feeling of mine, how can I arrange my whole world of soul? This can be realized only by my Lord’s blessing, kindness and guidance. It is impossible for my soul, together with its all feelings and emotions, to stay on the straight way without His help.”

Faith is the greatest guidance for one’s heart… A heart which has got faith is on the straight way. A true believer’s heart is directed to the Lord, who is everywhere. Wherever he looks, he sees a manifestation of His names. He puts himself next to that work imaginarily, and says: “Praise be to Allah, who disciplines both of us nicely.” Then, a third one, fourth one, a thousandth one and a hundred thousandths are added to these two. And the heart turns to the Lord of the Universe with praises. A heart that has reached to this point, whatever it may like, is on the straight way. However, a heart that is unaware of Allah adds another curtain of unawareness and grows further away from the Lord, with the every creature it likes.

It is a great deal not to lose the straight away in spite of these innumerable creatures and events. Moreover, this difficult test can only be passed with the guidance of Allah. Otherwise, one drowns in material world, gets lost in causes and becomes destroyed.

A heart that is saved from the danger of disbelief and idolatry and believes in Allah is on the straight way. And also there is a straight way for faith in heart. This is possible through following the way of ahl-i sunnah. An example for this is as follows:

Fate is a part of faith. Both the sect of Jabriyyah which denies that human beings have got the control of their acts to some extent and the sect of Mutazilah which considers human beings the creators of their own acts are astray from the straight way. The moderate way of this is believing that demand is from human beings and creation is from Allah. This is the straight way.

In The Signs of Miraculousness from the Nur Collection it is stated that “the straight way” refers to “accuracy and justice which is consisted of the combination of courage, chastity and wisdom” and it is explained as in the following:

“The lowest degree of power of lust is calmness, in which one is neither inclined to halal nor to haram. Its highest degree is sinfulness, in which one is tends to destroy honor and chastity. Its average degree is chaste, in which one inclined to what is halal and not to what is haram.

And the lowest degree of the power of aggression is cowardice, in which one is afraid of even the least and non-frightening things. Its highest degree is rage, in which one is neither afraid of worldly nor unworldly things. Its average degree is courage, in which one can sacrifice his life for the sake of lawfulness both in terms of religion and worldly life, and does not get involved in unlawful things.

And the lowest degree of power of mind is dullness, in which one is aware of nothing. Its highest degree is demagogy, in which one has got such intelligence with which he deceives people by presenting what is wrong as right and what is right as wrong. Its average degree is wisdom, in which one accepts what is right as right and behaves accordingly, and accepts what is wrong as wrong and avoids it.”

One can become a true believer on the straight way by eliminating these lowest and highest degrees of all powers, emotions and feelings in his soul.

When heart finds the straight way and faith, it is time for good deeds. One, in order to find the straight way, should keep his deeds and acts fair. His gaze will be straight, and he will not look at what is haram. His speech will be straight and he will tell everything as it is. He will neither flatter too much nor will he vilify. His trade will be straight, free from deceiving, usury and profiteering. All these are what one’s lower-self dislikes. As a matter of fact, the straight way is the reverse direction of what our lower-self shows us.

And another definition of the straight way is choosing the middle way, which is away from extremes in terms of all moral qualities.

Generosity is a high moral quality. A person who is neither extravagant nor mean is generous. And being just is another high moral quality. A just person will neither be unfair to anyone else, nor will he be incapable of defending his own rights, and thus he will not cause his addressee to be unfair. And also there is the fact that one can be unfair to himself. One who misuses the divine blessings given to him becomes unfair to himself by entering Hell. And another primary high quality of moral is submission to Allah. One who attempts to alter the causes and yet is content with the outcomes means to have comprehended the secret of submission and is on the straight way.

A true believer, by praying “show us the straight way”, demand from Allah to let him walk on the straight way with all of its qualities. And he includes all believers in this prayer.

Just as all faces turn to Qaba in prayers, all souls must turn to Quran, so that social life will be on the straight way.

Our Lord, who teaches us to pray “show us the straight way” in Quran, draws our attention to the fact that happiness in worldly life can be reached via this straight way, just as happiness in the afterlife. Those who stray from this way are “maghdup” and “dallin” as Allah informs us. Maghdub are those who have been subject to Allah’s wrath and “dallin” are poor people who have been the captives of false beliefs. The end for both of them is severe punishment.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 37 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Things looked up for Violet as she finally settled into the new normal of working in design.

This Chapter: One of New York’s most illustrious editors-in-chief turns 40--in style.

***

Shit.

It had been an absolute hell week, Courtney being run ragged all day, everyday. She’d missed more meals than not, barely slept, had gotten used to only using the bathroom when Fame was occupied.

It was really the first time that she and Miss Fame had to interact directly for more than a few words, and if Courtney thought she was high-maintenance before, she had no idea how weird it would get.

On Tuesday, Courtney had been torn a new one for ringing the doorbell when she had dropped off a package at Fame’s house, Fame looking at her like she was absolute vermin.

How was Courtney supposed to have known that it was a deathsin not to just let herself into her boss’ house, Fame explaining to her like she was a retarded toddler that she valued her family life and private time too much to be interrupted, not at all catching the irony of the fact that she was imposing on Courtney’s private time by forcing her to come to her house at 10 pm.

And now, a casual text from Adore that she’d be there around 7:30 reminded her about Bianca’s party and she was absolutely panicking. She had less than an hour to make herself presentable with literally nothing to wear.

She’d meant to ask Ivy about a dress, days ago, and then again yesterday when she was arranging the delivery of Miss Fame’s present to the Marie Claire offices, but it had slipped her mind amongst all the other things she had to remember.

She jumped up and raced into Raja’s suite, a cramp in her side, relieved to find the redhead still at her desk.

“Courtney? Are you okay?” Ivy rose from her seat, a concerned look on her face, ever the empath.

“I just...I forgot…” Courtney tried to catch her breath.

“Okay, take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s fixable. I promise.”

Courtney gulped. “I forgot that I’m supposed to go to this party tonight at the Guggenheim and it’s super fancy and my ride will be here in 40 minutes and I don’t have anything to wear and I don’t even know what the dress code means and I was just wondering if I could borrow something and I promise I’ll have it cleaned and returned by Monday but-”

“Courtney, breathe. Okay?” Ivy took her hand, inhaling deeply and then blowing out dramatically.

Had this job really killed so many of her brain cells that she needed assistance breathing now? Regardless, Courtney followed Ivy’s lead, taking a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart.

“Now,” Ivy began. “What does the dress code say?”

“Creative black tie?”

“Ah. Okay. Follow me.”

Courtney nearly cried with gratitude as Ivy led her into the wardrobe closet.

“Luckily, you’re a sample size, so this shouldn’t be too much of a challenge,” Ivy said. “It’s Bianca Del Rio’s party, right?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, watching her paw expertly through the racks.

“Are you going for anything in particular?”

“I guess I wanna look…” Courtney racked her brain, unsure of what to say, when the word, “older” slipped from her lips.

Ivy paused, clearly not expecting that answer, and gave Courtney a curious look before nodding.

“I can work with that. Now, Bianca likes bold colors and dramatic silhouettes with clean lines, so I think something like this…” Ivy pulled a stunning, beaded blue cocktail dress out off the rack. “This will look good on you.”

Ivy was truly a gift from god. Not only did they find a dress that fit perfectly (they settled on a short, fire-engine red silk number with a plunging neckline), along with shoes, accessories, and a glamorous faux-fur wrap, but she even stayed to help Courtney with her hair and makeup, giving her a chic updo and dramatic winged liner.

“Ivy, honestly, if you ever need anything. Someone to cover your desk...a kidney...whatever...you know who to ask.”

“Good to know.” Ivy laughed, checking her makeup one more time, adding a little more glimmering highlighter to her cheekbones, and then proclaiming, “Alright, I think you’re done.”

“Thank you so much,” Courtney said again, pulling out her phone. She hadn’t heard from Adore in awhile, and wondered if she was stuck in traffic or something. She seriously hoped that she hadn’t rushed like crazy, inconveniencing Ivy and nearly giving herself an ulcer worrying, just to sit around waiting for an hour.

COURTNEY: ETA?

ADORE: Soon, I think. I’m on my way to Pearl’s, then we’ll pick you up. Do you want a gyro?

COURTNEY: I’M A VEGAN

ADORE: Oh yeah. Gross. I’ll text you when we’re close.

***

“Bianca! Darling!” Fame reached out her arms to pull Bianca in for a tight embrace. “Happy Birthday!”

She and Patrick had just arrived at the stunning event space a few minutes earlier, and were immediately whisked off to a VIP area with a private bar, where Raja and Raven were already relaxing on sofas, Sutan and Violet standing at the bar chatting with Detox and Jujubee.

It was perfect, removed enough from the chaos of the dance floor, but with a perfect view over the railing. And the speed with which Bianca had arrived to greet her told her that she’s given special instructions for the staff to alert her to Fame’s presence--exactly the kind of preferential treatment that Fame expected.

“Thanks, blondie,” Bianca grinned, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Fame smiled widely, fluttering her lashes. “So do you. I love this dress!”

“Yeah, your tits look great!” Raja chimed in.

Bianca was wearing a sinfully tight black bandage dress, the neckline showing off her breasts and glowing skin, the hem just above her knees, her legs one of Bianca’s best assets.

“You can barely see that you’re turning 40.” Fame grinned, which earned her a pinch from Bianca, the other still keeping her in her arms.

“Shush.”

“Please,” Fame squeezed Bianca’s forearm, “So, tell me the truth, do you like the ring?”

Bianca held up her hand, where it glittered on her index finger.

Yesterday, Fame had had Bianca’s birthday present delivered to her office at the exact time of her birth, 3:57 pm. Fame knew Bianca liked her statement pieces, so she had custom ordered a cocktail ring, but not just any cocktail ring. Instead of the usual single band, a stone in the middle, Fame had gone for a three part twist in gold, sparkling garnets adorning it.

“It’s perfect, I love it,” Bianca said.

“Wonderful!” Fame clasped her hands together. “You’re impossible to shop for.”

“No I’m not! I love stuff,” Bianca countered. “Plus, you know...I’ll never say no to a present that’s unavailable in stores…”

She grinned wickedly, dimples deep, hand drifting down to Fame’s ass. Fame swatted it away with a scolding look.

“Really, Bianca.”

“What, it’s my birthday!” Bianca said. “You gotta give me something.”

“Fine, a tiny something,” Fame laughed, leaning in and giving her a sweet kiss on the lips, then following up with a light smack to her cheek.

“That’s not where I like being spanked,” Bianca said.

“Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Fame exclaimed, breaking away and stepping over to the bar while Bianca laughed gleefully behind her. “Now come on, tell me about your presents.”

***

“And a drink for the lady.” Sutan smiled as he handed Violet a glass, his date taking it with a sweet smile and a thank you, Sutan putting his arm back around her waist as they walked around.

He had picked Violet up at her apartment, his heart almost skipping a beat as she had pushed the double doors open and walked down the steps, her dress of the night absolutely stunning, the back open and taunting with it’s promise of bare impossibly soft skin.

“So,” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s back, “are you having fun?”

Sutan was happy that she was there, enjoyed spending time with her, but as he got to know her more and more, he slowly realized how little she actually enjoyed big crowds.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Sutan bit his lip, hiding a smile at Violet’s quick but short reply.

***

Alaska giggled delightedly, letting Jinkx twirl her on the dance floor. If you’d told Alaska a few years ago that she’d have a friend who she could have this much fun with sober, she’d have laughed in your face. But, even though Jinkx didn’t mind it, Alaska really didn’t enjoy drinking around her. So when they were together, Alaska felt like it was the least she could do to hold off on the booze. What she did enjoy was being with her, sober or not, looking into her sparkling brown eyes as they tripped all over their feet.

“For a Broadway star, you’re really uncoordinated,” Alaska laughed, and Jinkx pretended to be offended, then giggled.

“It’s hard to be mad when you call me a Broadway star.”

“Well, you are!” Alaska said, wrapping her arms around Jinkx’s neck and gazing at her happily. She loved these moments, just the two of them having the time of their lives, dancing and laughing and ignoring every other person in the room. They always had fun, but tonight, Jinkx seemed to have an extra bounce in her step, radiating a kind of joy, and it made Alaska feel so grateful to be around her.

“Thanks Lasky...you’re the best.”

They whirled and stumbled around the dance floor some more, until they were both breathless and needed a break.

“What are we feeling like tonight? Ginger ale? Cranberry and soda?” Alaska asked.

“You choose,” Jinkx said, clinging to her arm.

Alaska ordered a couple of drinks for them and then turned back to Jinkx, who was looking at her with the cutest little dreamy half-smile. She couldn’t help the tingling rush that went down her spine as she lowered her eyes and asked, “So...what’s going on with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?” Jinkx asked, eyes widening innocently.

“I mean...you’re just very...I don’t know...” A smile tugged at Alaska’s lips. “...twinkly tonight.”

“Well...I wasn’t gonna say anything because...it’s kind of silly, but,” she lowered her voice, eyes shining. “I ran into her again. Ivy.”

Alaska felt her whole chest deflate, forcing a smile as Jinkx continued.

“At Zabar’s! It’s like the universe is just conspiring to help us get together, you know?” Jinkx giggled happily.

A lump rose in Alaska’s throat and she nodded, using all her willpower to keep the smile painted across her face. “Oh, wow. That’s...that’s cool. Did you talk?”

“Yes. You’d be so proud of me, I even got her number!”

“Wow. Awesome!” Alaska felt like she was going to throw up, shifting her gaze to the bartender, grateful for the distraction as he slid two ginger ales across the bar. She couldn’t help wishing that half the glass was Jack Daniels. She handed one of them to Jinkx and took her own. It tasted just dust.

“Yeah, but she was still a bit formal, you know? I think I need to see her in a more relaxed setting. Do you think she likes opera? Maybe I can ask her to Madame Butterfly?” Jinkx chattered, away, oblivious to Alaska’s shift in mood.

“You really think the Met is a relaxed setting?”

Jinkx threw back her head and laughed, squeezing Alaska’s arm. “Omigod, you’re right. I’m such a dingbat. What would I do without you, Lasky?”

“I don’t know…” Alaska stirred her drink.

“What do you think she likes?”

“Uh, I’m really not sure,” Alaska said. And it was true. She knew that Ivy was sweet, and professional, and did her job with a kind of calm efficiency. But she didn’t know her very well on a personal level, their professional paths rarely crossing directly.

“Hmm, maybe you can ask around? If that wouldn’t be too weird?” Jinkx looked so hopeful and earnest that Alaska couldn’t help but smile for real in spite of herself, immediately agreeing to help her on this quest to capture Ivy’s heart.

“Of course. I’ll ask around.”

Jinkx sighed happily, leaning on Alaska’s shoulder, eyes falling closed for a moment. “You really are my favorite person, Lask.”

“Back atcha, Jinxky.”

***

Adore walked into Bianca’s party, feeling like a million bucks. Everyone that was anyone and even some who were nothing were there, and Adore knew she looked better than all of them with her purple hair, her pouty red lips, her short black leather dress, fishnets, and best of all… Pearl, the sexiest fucking goddess she’d ever seen in her life at her side.

She hung on Pearl’s arm, enjoying the jealous looks she got; knowing that everyone at the party wanted to be in her place. She even got a nasty look from some models, who were clearly all in love with her girl, but Adore didn’t care.

Pearl was here with her and only her. Pearl glanced at her every few seconds with a smug grin on her face, like the cat that just ate the canary. Well, if the canary was Adore’s pussy. Which would mean the cat was… Well whatever, Adore wasn’t an English scholar. She was in love.

The only thing that sucked was that Courtney looked so fucking miserable. They’d been a little late picking her up, due to getting, well, sidetracked for a while at Pearl’s, and then stopping for food. She thought that Courtney would be a bit more understanding, but she’d barely spoken two words in the car, even Pearl picking up on her obvious anger.

And now, even though she was at the coolest party in Manhattan, she didn’t look happy at all. Adore caught her eye, offering a hopeful smile, but received only a resigned nod in return. She reached out to touch her hand.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” Adore asked, hoping that a compliment and a charming grin would be enough to lighten her mood.

“You think?” Courtney asked, adjusting one of her straps nervously. “I don’t look out of place?”

“Bitch, you put all these other girls to shame,” Adore promised, and was rewarded, finally, with a pleased smile from Courtney.

“Thanks.”

“Pearl!”

Adore looked over at the group of giggling socialites who were approaching them, only slightly annoyed when they swept her girlfriend up. She pouted as Pearl dropped her hand, but smiled again when she doubled back to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna try and squeeze some gossip out of these hoes, and then I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay, but don’t be too long!” Adore pulled her in, branding her cheek with a dark red kiss before taking Courtney’s arm and sauntering away, pleased with herself. She scanned the party, looking for her sister and finally spotting her holding court near the bar. She cupped her hands over her mouth to shout through the crowd. “Bianca! Happy birthday, you ancient whore!”

Bianca turned towards her sister’s voice, barking out, “You’re late!”

“Whaddaya mean, we’re right on time for a grand entrance!” Adore countered, laughing.

“Well-” Bianca stopped, completely losing her train of thought when her eyes landed on Courtney. She was wearing a short red dress, the first time Bianca has seen her in a color other than pastels, and she looked absolutely fucking stunning--legs a mile long, one blonde curl falling into her eyes. Damn.

“You look cute, B. Very boobalicious,” Adore said, giving her a hug. “Not bad for an old lady.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Bianca said, eyes still locked on Courtney. “Hi, Courtney.”

“Hi. Happy birthday,” Courtney said, giving her a sweet smile. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Bianca told her. “But here, uh...this’ll help you catch up.”

She took a couple of the signature drinks from a passing tray and handed them over. Adore immediately began to suck hers down, but Courtney hesitated.

“Um, what’s in this?”

“Courtney’s afraid of tequila. It makes her messy, right bae?” Adore bumped her hip.

“Something like that.”

“It’s called a Madras. Vodka, orange juice and cranberry. No tequila, but it will fuck you up. Be warned,” Bianca said with a wink.

“Well...cheers,” Courtney said, giving an adorable little laugh.

“Cheers.” Bianca took a sip of her own drink, then leaned in closer. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s eyes shone, her fingers twirling that stray lock of hair.

“Yeah.” Bianca tried unsuccessfully to wipe the stupid grin off her face, and instead broke the tension with, “I’m shocked that someone who’s friends with my sister has such good taste.”

“Hey!” Adore exclaimed.

“Don’t be too impressed. It’s a loaner,” Courtney replied drily, causing Bianca to throw back her head and laugh.

“Fair enough.” She downed the rest of her drink, waving off a couple of acquaintances who were trying to get her attention.

“Be right back,” Adore said, scampering away towards Pearl, of course jumping the second the blonde so much as crooked a little finger.

Courtney reached out for her, but she was already gone. She sighed slightly, looking a little bit dejected, and Bianca cleared her throat.

“So listen, I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking for a way to avoid your, uh, Galactica employers while you’re here?”

Courtney looked up, startled. She seemed shocked that Bianca was still talking to her, and she stammered uncomfortably. “Oh. Yeah, no, I just-”

“Listen, it’s understandable, you wanna have a good time. Can’t do that while your boss is breathing down your neck, right?” Bianca flashed her dimples.

“Well...yeah,” Courtney admitted, laughing a little.

Bianca stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Fame and Raja are well contained, don’t worry. I made a VIP section since those two need a velvet rope to feel like they’re having a good time.”

Courtney giggled. “Like a rich person playpen?”

“It’s a prison of their own making,” Bianca affirmed, giving her a wink. “Trust me, they’re looking down on everyone the way they prefer, and they ain’t leaving.”

“Well...thank you.” Courtney bit her lip. It was hard to tell in this light, but it looked like a slight blush had crept into her cheeks, and Bianca found herself even more enamored.

“Anytime.”

A second later, she felt someone tap on her arm: one of the Marie-Claire board members, who she sadly couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry, I have go...do hostess shit,” Bianca said, regret flooding her chest, and Courtney nodded.

“Of course.”

She turned towards the middle-aged man and his young wife, saying her cursory hellos and giving air kisses, making small talk with them both. As soon as she could manage, though, she spared a glance back at Courtney.

The plan, from the moment Adore told her that Courtney was coming, had been to seduce this smoking hot friend of her sister’s. And she figured that the “rough break-up” that Adore’d reported would make it a sure thing. An easy and fun little fling--a birthday present to herself.

But now, something about the wistful, faraway expression on her delicate face as she smoothed down her skirt made her look vulnerable, in a way that gave Bianca pause. As stunning as she was--and fuck, she was an absolute knock-out--it didn’t make Bianca want to seduce her. Instead, it made her want to protect her. Ugh, why did her fucking conscience have rear its ugly head tonight, on her birthday of all nights?

“Thank you so much. Be sure to check out the raw bar!” she said, finally escaping and ready to head back to Courtney--but Adore beat her to it.

She watched as her sister came bounding up, Pearl in tow, and grabbed Courtney’s hands to pull her onto the dance floor.

Well, good. She should have a good time. Lord knows, anyone who worked for Fame deserved to blow off some steam. Bianca snatched another drink from a passing tray, trying to redirect her attention to the Welsh model who’d been giving her bedroom eyes all night.

***

Violet was having a surprisingly good time, taking small sips of her champagne. She had hurried home from work, almost ready when Sutan had texted that he was downstairs, the smile on Sutan’s face when he had seen her dress almost, almost, almost worth it’s price tag.

She had never been to an event of this size without having to worry if catering ran out of ice, or if she’d need to get taxis for whoever got way too drunk. It was nice to just stand by Sutan’s side, nice to be allowed to just be, without having to entertain or constantly think about everything that could go wrong.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Sutan smiled, his thumb rubbing up and down the small of Violet’s back. He was talking to one of the models from Elite, Violet vaguely recognizing her from some of the headshots she had presented to Fame for the fall collection. “I’ll be sure to tell Marcel about that.”

“Excuse me,” Violet turned, her eyes falling on a man with a camera, the card around his neck instantly telling her that he was from OK! magazine. “I was wondering if I could take a few pictures?”

“Oh,” Violet didn’t know what to do, her stomach instantly tightening.

“Sure,” Sutan grinned, turning towards the camera. “Right girls?”

“I-” Violet didn’t want to be in the picture, didn’t want someone she didn’t know documenting where she was, didn’t want to risk it ending up online. “I don’t-”

“Oh of course,” Sutan took her glass, handing it off to someone. “There we go.”

“Sutan”

“Come here,” Sutan put an arm around the model, posing both of them.

“Please-” Violet could feel Sutan’s hand on her hip, holding her tight, keeping her trapped, her throat closing up.

“Should we smile?”

“No,” The photographer looked out from behind his camera, “just be natural.”

Violet pushed away, forcing Sutan to let her go as the camera went off. She didn’t hear Sutan say her name, a quick flicker of a question on his face, didn’t see him smile apologetically to the photographer and pose with the model, didn’t notice any of it as she made her way outside, escaping the only thing she could think of.

***

Juju strolled through the crowd with Raven. She appreciated the whole VIP setup as much as anyone, but this was a massive party, and they’d decided to come spend a little time where the action was, maybe dance a bit -at least as much as her poor pregnant body would allow. They were stopped by a group of models, Raven proudly showing off her engagement ring and letting the other girls fawn all over her.

Juju put up with the schmoozing for a couple of minutes--after all, those girls were potential clients, until she spotted Bianca nearby and politely excused herself from the group, knowing that Raven would be perfectly content with her little fan club.

Bianca was chatting up some sweet young thing (typical), and Juju couldn’t resist messing with her a little. She wrapped her arms around Bianca’s waist from behind, asking in a low, husky voice, “Tell me I’m your favorite, Daddy.”

It was a joke between the two of them, something that had started years ago when Juju and Detox were first dating. They’d shown up at brunch one morning in the middle of a heated argument about whether it was appropriate for her to call him “Daddy” during sex--ironically, only a few months before she got preganant with their first child. It wasn’t a kink thing, exactly, it was just that she thought it was funny, and especially so when she saw his freaked out reaction. The group agreed that right or wrong, if it bothered him then she probably shouldn’t say it. But Bianca, ever the good sport, had pulled the smaller woman into her lap and declared that if she really needed to call someone Daddy, she was ‘willing to take one for the team.’

Juju accompanied her breathy greeting by biting gently on Bianca’s ear, adding, “Pwease?”

Bianca burst out laughing, pulling her close and introducing her to a very confused looking girl. “Tayce, you must know my friend Juju Sanderson. The brilliant hairstylist who owns Jujubee’s downtown?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s an honor!” Tayce said, her brown eyes lighting up as a dazzling smile spread across her face. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you, but you’re booked up for months!”

Juju had to bite back her laugh when she heard Tayce speak--Bianca always was a sucker for an accent.

“Well, play your luck with Daddy here, and you might jump the queue,” Juju said with a wink.

“Among other benefits,” Bianca cackled. “You know you’re the only one who I’d let get away with that Daddy shit, right?”

“Yes, thank you. You’re a lot more fun than my husband.”

“In so many ways,” Bianca said, turning to Tayce and giving her a playful smirk.

***

Violet took a deep breath, letting it out through her teeth as she could finally feel her heart slow down, though the knot in her stomach wasn’t going away.

She knew she couldn’t help it, but it was impossible not to feel an inkling of shame travel up her spine, the feeling that she was being ridiculous impossible to push down.

Sutan hadn’t meant anything by it, taking photos a part of his life, being in the public eye something that simply came natural for him.

Violet took a last breath, pushing away from the wall she had been leaning against to go back to the party, hoping that Sutan hadn’t noticed how strange she was acting.

It wasn’t that Violet liked acting this way, that she wanted to feel the panic rising in her body whenever she saw a camera in a stranger's hand, but she couldn’t help it.

She was an adult now, she had her own life, her own money and even her own job and her own apartment, but it was hard not to hide, impossible not to react to the instinctive fear that welled up in her at the risk of being found.

Violet walked back inside, the noise and the amount of people feeling so much more overwhelming when she wasn’t at Sutan’s side. She made her way through the crowd, easily spotting both Fame and Pearl, avoiding both of them.

She was starting to think Sutan had left, Raja nowhere to be found either, when she saw him sitting at a table, surrounded by models. He was laughing loudly, his arm around one of the girls, several of the models’ phones taking pictures of everything that was happening.

Violet’s stomach did a flip, the panic from earlier rushing through her body. She couldn’t go over there, couldn’t be a part of that part of Sutan’s world, so instead, Violet did what she always did.

Turned around, and walked away.

***

[Raja?] Sutan put a hand on Raja’s hip, turning her around. Sutan had been sitting with a group of models, doing shots and having fun right up until one of them had touched his legs under the table, and he had abandoned ship instantly.

[Have you seen Violet?]

He hadn’t seen her in over an hour, and while Sutan was more than sure that Violet could take care of herself, he had started to worry.

[Sutan!] Raja grinned, stepping into his space, looping her arms around his neck. [Hello brother dear.]

[Hello.] Sutan smiled, once again reminded of how much he truly loved Raja. She was tipsy, her eyes swimming slightly, which was probably why she hadn’t responded to his question. [Have you seen Violet?]

[Violet?] Raja tilted her head, her hand fiddling with the hairs at the nape of his neck. [No?]

[Shit.] Sutan bit his lip, his hands resting on Raja’s hips.

[Maybe she just left?] Raja smiled, running her fingers through his hair. [There’s no need to worry.]

[Maybe...]

[She can handle herself.]

[Mmmh.] Sutan knew that Raja was probably right, but it still felt weird that VIolet hadn’t said goodbye, and if he was honest, he was disappointed that they wouldn’t be going home together at the end of the night. [I’ll send her a text.]

Sutan was just about to reach into his pocket, was just about to get his phone out, when he saw a photographer to his left, just outside the VIP section. The paparazzi always loved to get photos of him and Raja together, and while he was sure Raja hadn’t noticed, he made sure to twist her slightly to the left, getting her good side as he smiled at the camera.

***

“Every guy here is drooling over you, bae,” Adore giggled, spinning Courtney on the dance floor before accepting another drink from Pearl.

“Not just the guys,” Pearl added with a wink.

Courtney laughed. In spite of her hesitation in tagging along, she’d been having a pretty good time. The attention was fun, of course, but Courtney’d barely noticed the alleged guys drooling over her. She couldn’t help thinking about the way she’d felt when Bianca put that arm around her, the way her brown eyes had sparkled in the dim light. The way goosebumps prickled her skin as Bianca’s fingers grazed her shoulder.

Her gaze kept being pulled in Bianca’s direction. Eyes drifting over her enticing curves in that tight dress. And occasionally, to her absolute thrill, Bianca would be looking back at her. Every time their eyes met, her stomach flipped around like crazy.

It was silly, she knew that. She knew that Bianca was only being nice to her because she was Adore’s friend. A nice kid. That it didn’t mean anything deep. This was, after all, a woman who dated supermodels and Oscar winners. Like the gorgeous girl by her side most of the evening, who had a face that Courtney instantly recognized from last month’s British Vogue cover.

Still.

The reality of the situation didn’t stop her from pretending, even just to herself, even just for the night, that maybe there was something there, that warranted all these confusing feelings swirling around inside her like a tornado.

And later, when they were saying goodbye, she allowed herself to enjoy the way Bianca’s palm pressed to the small of her back. She even let her lips linger for a few moments on Bianca’s warm cheek, kissing her goodnight.

***

SUTAN: Did you leave?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: The party is still going.

SUTAN: Did you get home safe?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: I can’t find you.

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: Violet??

VIOLET: I’m fine.

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drag-oon23 · 4 years

Text

One Lifetime

Summary: What if the merging of the various universes weren’t as seamless as the shows portrayed? Countless lifetimes suppressed into one life, one body, one mind. That’s going to leave a mark.

AO3 Link.

Nyssa awoke to the nastiest headache she ever had in her life. She reached for her dagger under her pillow and groaned in confusion when it wasn’t there. Why would she have knives under her pillow in the first place?

She stumbled out of bed and dragged herself to the bathroom to get some painkillers. Nyssa squinted as she turned on the light and looked at her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was short. When did she cut it? Why wouldn’t she cut it?

She dropped the pill bottle into the sink as her hands couldn’t stop shaking violently. The pain in her head traveled down her body making her knees buckle and she fell to the floor. Her hands looked wrong, her body was too soft, where were her scars?

The pain in her skull kept throbbing as she pulled herself up to the bathroom counter. She only briefly looked at her face in the mirror before turning away when the pain increased.

Her curiously unscarred hands fished the pill bottle from the sink and opened it, dumping two tablets into her hand. After swallowing them, she stumbled back into bed. Nyssa dimly was aware she had to call in sick for work, but she was exhausted. Using the last of her dimming strength and as her vision blurred, she grabbed her phone and dialed an unfamiliar number.

She passed out.

When she awoke, she found herself in a medical bed with numerous advanced equipment. The pain stabbed deeply into her head repeatedly, making her close her eyes tightly and groan.

“Why isn’t it working, Gideon?!”

“Her body is rejecting the merge and all my attempts to stabilize her, Captain. At this rate, she will expire in 24 hours.”

“What can we do then?!”

Nyssa recognized that voice and it sounded the same and yet different from how she remembered it. An unknown word bubbled through the pain and she gasped, “Habibti?”

Someone grasped her hand and she opened her eyes, briefly noting yellow hair before slamming her eyes shut as countless conflicting memories crashed into her brain. Lifetimes upon lifetimes condensed into one single moment that seemed to stretch into agonizing eternity. She was an assassin, a lawyer, a student, a barista, a soldier, a demon, an experiment, and a casualty. Nonexistent wounds opened and closed, her limbs shortened and lengthened, her body destroying itself as it configured and reconfigured at an inhuman pace over and over again trying to match countless conflicting blueprints of a thousand lifetimes.

She mercifully blacked out, distantly noting the screaming noise in the background was hers.

When Nyssa awoke, the first thing she noticed was the warm water surrounding her body. She was so tired and her head continued to pound but at least it wasn’t the sharp pains of being stabbed and carved up a thousand times over and over again. Nyssa gingerly tested all her limbs and let a small sigh of relief when the pain didn’t become worst as it did the previous times.

“You’re awake!”

The woman turned her head to face the speaker. Shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes, a wide sunny smile. Nyssa closed her eyes as the pain suddenly returned. Other images floated to the surface of feral eyes and an angry snarl. Or was she a brown haired woman with green eyes and an easy smile?

Nyssa felt hands grasp her shoulders causing her to look up into concerned blue eyes. “Hey, hey, stay with me. Concentrate on my voice.”

Nyssa gritted her teeth as she tried. The stabbing of her skull throbbed in time with her quickening heartbeat and she grasped the blonde’s forearms tightly with her hands as she listened to the blonde’s voice telling her sweet nothings. Who was this woman to her?

When the pain finally lessened and she became aware of her surroundings again, she realized her head was in the other woman’s lap. A name drifted from her heart and she realized who this woman was. Sara. Her name was Sara.

Nyssa gingerly lifted her head from Sara’s lap and released a relieved sigh when she could finally look at the other woman without knives stabbing skull.

“Sara.”

Nyssa frowned at herself why the name slipping through felt both right and wrong. “What is happening to me?”

“What do you remember?”

“I was in bed at a safehouse, no an apartment. A knife under the pillow? I went the bathroom to get some painkillers. I called a number.”

Nyssa drifted into silence as the memories swirled into one, but without the excruciating pain of before. Lifetimes upon lifetimes, a thousand memories of falling asleep in a thousand different rooms and cells before she awoke in one room, one body, one life.

She looked up at Sara, noting the guilty look in her eyes. “What happened?”

Nyssa, looked out the a window on the time ship over looking planet Earth. The crew had largely ignored her though whether due to Sara’s orders or her own glares she didn’t know or care.

The League did not exist in this one lone universe. She was a scientist, studying and marveling the stars and planets for their beauty. In this world, she never met Sara.

Nyssa looked down at her hands which had numerous half formed and faded scars, her body’s compromise. That’s what she was now, an amalgamation cobbled together from various lifetimes, crudely stitched together by the waters of a Pit. Her assassin self may have destroyed all of the ones in her universe, but here they were all still very present and just as dangerous. She made fists, relishing the feeling of blunt, broken nails digging into her palms.

“Hey, how are ya doing?”

Nyssa doesn’t turn to the voice, though she could feel her tired heart beat just a little faster. This world’s Nyssa and many others never knew Sara, but countless more knew and loved her. Some were even able to hold her close and call her-

Nyssa dug her nails deeper into her palms, relishing the anchoring pain. In this world she never met Sara. “I am fine. Is there something you need, Sara?”

She can tell the other woman was hurt by her abruptness but she couldn’t help it. Nyssa was not the assassin (or lawyer, or barista, or doctor, or any of the other countless lifetimes) and she would never be again. The Crisis and Pit’s waters saw to that.

Sara scratched her head, looking sheepishly at the other woman. “Just-Where do you want to go? I can drop you anywhere and any time.”

Nyssa stood tall, taking one last look at the spinning blue and green planet beneath her. This world’s Nyssa would have loved the view. “Take me back to my...apartment.”

Back at the apartment, Nyssa absentmindedly noted what was the same and different about this particular world’s set up compared to those in her various memories. She faintly smiled at the stuff animal of a yellow bird on a seat. Her abandoned notes on a new star laid on a table and she supposed she should just continue her work as best as she could even with the countless memories in her brain now. She would survive regardless. The ones who didn’t make it deserved that much.

With her back turned to the other woman, she spoke coldly. “You can leave now, and return to your time ship. I no longer require your help.”

“Nyssa-”

Nyssa gritted her teeth, refusing to acknowledge how her cobbled together heart beat so quickly, screaming for her to stop talking, to fight back. But she was so tired and she already lost. Every time she had some small measure of happiness, it was just as quickly snatched away from her. Perhaps it was best for her to just fade away in this world. “I am not her, Sara. You salvaged a ghost.”

“No.”

Nyssa turned sharply to glare at the other woman. “No?”

Sara took a step forward. “I abandoned you once, at your request. I am not doing that again.”

Nyssa rolled her eyes, digging her nails into her palm. “She’s dead, Sara.”

“No, you’re here, standing in front of me.”

Nyssa shook her head, unable to look at Sara any longer. “What’s standing in front of you is just a broken vessel that’s full of fragments of who we - I used to be. Nothing more. Besides, you already have a beloved. Go back to her and live your life, Sara. The league doesn’t exist in this life and I am merely an astronomer, a safe profession. There will be no assassins, bounty hunters, or others with murderous grudges against me here. I might even die of old age with all my limbs intact.”

Sara flinched at the reminder of her own obligations, which gave Nyssa a slim measure of satisfaction mixed with pain. The dark haired woman unconsciously felt her right forearm to make sure it was still there. When the blonde made didn’t make a sound, Nyssa nodded in resignation and slowly walked to the bedroom, ignoring how this feels like a final end of something.

When she heard the front door mercifully open and close, Nyssa finally allowed herself to mourn the lifetimes lost and the maybes that never will be anymore.

Her colleagues at work gave her a wide berth after noting the haunted look in her eyes and the numerous scars. Her cover story was a very bad car accident and Nyssa had no desire to speak with them anyway.

Her work comforted her as she tracked and analyzed the new data coming from various satellites. They kept her busy and her hands occupied. Sometimes she forgot she had both arms in this lifetime and used one or the other exclusively until she remembered. She could never remember which hand was suppose to be the dominant one.

After the first month of uneasy peace, Nyssa felt restless despite her daily basic workouts. The need to move, to fight, to do something gnawed at body until she finally found herself grabbing a knife and slicing the air with it. Decades of muscle memories of numerous katas flowed, helping guide her body’s through the movements until she dropped to the floor, breathless and exhausted, knife still in hand. She leaned back against the wall, her grip tightening around the handle of the knife.

Against her better judgement, she found herself purchasing a bow and arrow set. The set sat in the corner of her apartment for the better part of a month until she finally caved and took them reluctantly to a public archery range in a city park. Nyssa stood nervously in line, waiting for her turn, her palms becoming sweaty. Finally, when a spot opened she moved her gear to the shooting line. Just like with the knife, memories of lifetimes guided her body to the proper form. When she nocked and released her first arrow, Nyssa felt like she could finally breathe. With each released arrow, she felt another part slide of herself into a more fitting location. The feeling of a bow in her hand, the familiar and yet unfamiliar twinge in her shoulders, her mind quieting with the repetition of the motion, it almost made up for the fact that her arrows never quite found the center of the target.

For a time, the knives, bow, and arrows help to make her feel just a little like before but she found herself losing track of time as memories would haunt her. Everywhere she looked she saw ghosts from multiple lifetimes and the nights were the worst where she was reminded how just how alone she was in this new world. Her dreams remained fragmented of various memories mashed together and she often awoke unsure of who or where she was.

One evening, she noted someone was following her. Exasperated, she turned around to face her stalker. “You can come out now, Sara.”

The blonde sheepishly appeared from behind a corner. “Hi.”

Nyssa crossed her arms, frowning at the other woman, trying to stop her traitorous heart from beating so quickly. “What do you want?”

Sara nervously looked around the streets as she said, “Can we do this back at your place?”

“Fine.”

Once inside and doors locked, Nyssa turned to face the other woman, crossing her arms. “What do you want, Sara?”

Sara’s eyes lingered on the bow and arrow set in the corner before turning back to Nyssa. “I broke it off with Ava.”

Nyssa dug her nails into her arm as she willed her face to show no emotion. She had not expected that and didn’t know what to say.

Sara continued after noting Nyssa’s silence. “You don’t know how fucking terrified I was when I received that call, Nyssa. No one calls that number without a damn good reason and when Gideon tracked it down? Shit, I dropped everything to get there and we almost didn’t make it, your body was already a mess. It was like something out of the Thing.”

Sara began pacing, words tumbling out. “You know how I feel about the Pits but I was watching you die a horrible agonizing death on that table and there wasn’t a single fucking thing I can do. And then I thought of the Pits. If it can raise the dead, maybe it can keep you stable while we figured something out.”

She stopped and looked at Nyssa again. “At the Pits, you don’t know how relieved I was when the water seemed to keep up better than Gideon with your merger. You stopped screaming. I don’t know how it worked, and I frankly don’t give a shit but-”

She slowly took Nyssa’s heavily scarred hands into her own. “I realized that I’ve been an idiot. Nothing and I do mean nothing can compare to what we have. And I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making up for abandoning you all this time. I shouldn’t have ever left in the first place. Even if you only see me as a friend now or never forgive me.”

Nyssa swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She pulled her hands out of Sara’s loose grip. Everything she always wanted to hear but it almost felt a little too late. She was no longer her. She fisted her hands and turned around, unwilling to look any further at her heart’s desire. “There’s nothing to forgive, Sara. As I said earlier, I don’t require your help any longer and you can leave. There’s nothing for you here.“

“Bullshit.”

Nyssa stiffened when she felt arms wrapped around her from behind in a loose hold. “You’re still her, Nyssa. You’re still here. Don’t think I don’t see that well used bow and arrow set. Or that bird stuff animal. Or how you organized your papers with precision because you’re OCD about that type of stuff.”

Nyssa couldn’t help a watery chuckle at the last point.

“I know I failed you before but I’ll be damned if I let this go without even trying at all. That’s not us, Nyssa. If this doesn’t work out, than I’ll leave you be but aren’t we worth a chance?”

Nyssa couldn’t answer. Instead, she squeezed Sara’s hand.

#nyssara #nyssaxsara #saraxnyssa #fanfic #I wrote the majority of this while I had a fever and cold meds #hopefully it makes sense #hurt/comfort #angst with happy ending and ENDGAME nyssara always #Do I look like I give a shit what happens in canon? HA #*coughs a lung out*#Ughhh this idea won't leave me alooooone #is it ooc? probably but I don't care #to clarify: the bulk was written during jan/feb #i'm just too lazy to change out all the fever induced tags I added on to this

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Anagnorisis

(AU belongs to @pistachiolan. Check the notes for more info!)

ἁναγνώρισις: Sudden and unexpected recognizing of the identity of a character in tragedies or other written works, which often determines the turning point in a story. (Latin: Agnitio)

Merry super extra late Christmas aaand at this point this can count as a happy new year gift? I've been literally working on this since last decade, this is some dedication. I hope you like it Lan!! Lov u

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 3,812

Characters: Roman, Virgil (Patton and Logan are mentioned), Thomas

Pairing(s): pre-Prinxiety

Warning(s): Migraine (and its symptoms), implied mind control, self-harm, crying, implied panic attack, some metaphors might be a bit graphic, please tell me if I missed anything!

Summary: Roman couldn't remember exactly when all of that had started. What he was sure of was that as soon as it begun, all the happenings before became … hazy. He would start to forget specks of time, details, people. And then came the headaches.

Song used: Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty

A/N: I now have Once Upon a Dream stuck in my head. I like to call this "let me just take all the creative liberties I can get and distort everything about the plot". Okay I have no clue if this is at all the idea you had in mind so I improvised thanks to the lyrics, I hope this isn't too far off? Either way, enjoy the angst and these two pining boys cause I sure as hell had a good time. To all my regular readers: you have no idea what’s coming. (Don’t forget to check out @pistachiolan’s profile for their fantastically marvellous au which you can find in their blog under the #TsCultAu tag) The poem Roman recites is a rough translation I did of Catullus's 48th carmen (had a book of his poems and ended up using my fav ofc). The narrated parts in cursive are either thoughts or past events, the parts in cursive and bold are the song lyrics.

✾

❝I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts.

Cause I don't care if I lose my mind,

I'm already cursed ❞

I know you!

A hand flew to Roman's face, which was contorting with unwelcome pain he hadn't seen coming, before he could even register it was his own.

His fingers pressed on a spot between his eyes and the bridge of his nose, his skin wrinkled around them and he had to steady himself against the rocky wall that led to the dungeons.

The dungeons.

Roman attempted to take a look at the stairs he was on: he was met with a flash, or maybe they were multiple flashes, attacking his vision like sharp blades diving into your skin numerous times, one right after the other.

He was blinded.

Eyes closed again, a whimper came out of his mouth; his free hand found its way to his forehead, getting warmer by the second along with his face, then it slid through his hair, barely able to feel its texture.

Too much of a recurring sensation.

Roman couldn't remember exactly when all of that had started. What he was sure of was that as soon as it begun, all the happenings before became … hazy. He would start to forget specks of time, details, people.

And then came the headaches. When he forced himself to remember or clear the discordance in his memories, pain would come.

Oh, come on Roman, his head would reprimand, didn't you learn by now you shouldn't do that?

Headaches turned into fully-fledged migraines.

And hallucinations.

At least that was what he called them. He would be certain of events that had never taken place.

For instance, dungeons.

Roman had been walking down the path leading to them when his mind started to drift away: it happened the same way you look at an object and a memory hits you before its meaning.

For some reason, he remembered being there with Virgil in the past, they had conversations about carvings in the back of the furthest cell, which became the symbol of a legend kids told to scare each other.

It was insane.

Insane his mind could ever fathom the possibility of interacting with Virgil.

Sure, his distress towards Virgil had diminished the more he'd been around without causing any trouble or suspicion, but a memory was a memory. They had yet to have a serious conversation that wasn't necessary, a memory meant they had already spent time alone together as if they had been childhood friends.

Doubt came in, but there had never been solid proof of Virgil himself being up to something, so he had decided to drop that theory.

Roman fell down, but didn't rise up like he usually did in conflicts.

The pulsing in his head made him nauseous; everything was spinning, even the void he was met with once his eyes were closed.

His arms went over his head, trying to shield it from any other malevolent deity that had decided to plague him.

It just all felt so real.

As if he had known Virgil all along.

I walked with you once upon a dream.

Months, months and still no sign of defeat.

Now, who the hell was thinking that messing up with Roman's brain was a fun activity to spend time with?

Even his subconscious had to shove him further down the hole confusion had created: his dreams often displayed all too familiar situations, all too familiar events he knew he had been in, but with that one particular difference in them.

Virgil was present in every single one of them.

It made him lose his mind, so much that he was barely able to bear his sight anymore. He'd feel somewhat embarrassment, he'd turn away after a single glance, as if he had gotten burnt by it.

And then he'd never tear his gaze off of him because, gods of the Empyrean, that boy had to be up to something or else he had no idea where to begin to look for clues.

What a terrible mistake.

Instead, he ended up with the image of Virgil constantly occupying his mind, everywhere he went to, there wouldn't be a moment where his thoughts wouldn't drift away from his task and focus on him.

Daydreaming and migraines became one, distinguished only by the type of pain they caused. Emotional and physical.

Overthinking was his main daily pastime.

And what if his mind was actually trying to tell him something? Dreams often had meanings, so what was his subconscious up to exactly?

That was Roman's train of thought upon waking up from one of those fated dreams, the pounding in his head a visitor who had now become a close friend.

Only thing he was sure of, was that what he had to concentrate on was the fact that it involved Virgil. He tried to recall all of his past hallucinations, all the fake memories, trying to connect the dots between them.

If only he had Logan's skills, he would've had cleared it up in a second. Of course, this one thought was something he was never going to admit and that he would have willingly taken to his grave.

Going into detail was a mess, all the events that had displayed in his mind or in front of his eyes had no correlation whatsoever; so he started looking at the big picture, put labels onto what he remembered.

Those memories. They were all … happy. Carefree little quotidian life bites.

And he felt serene, something that had to be ruined by the massive physical pain. His thoughts told him to stay in those memories, to hold onto them the longest he could, to endure the constant aching so he could stay that additional moment.

It was another him, another Roman who was desperately trying to catch his past and bring it back to himself.

Present Roman wouldn't have been able to perceive that conclusion.

Actually, present Roman was currently losing his mind.

Because just what if what he hadn't realized by then was exactly what he had been focusing on all along?

Feelings. Feelings for someone who had been infesting his thoughts ever since he had arrived.

I know you!

Roman was a knight walking around the village in a busy afternoon at the marketplace. One turn towards a figure in front of a stand, a few feet away, and he switched to distressed knight mode.

« You've got to be kidding me. »

Virgil kept himself from jumping in surprise and faced the owner of the voice right behind him. A single infuriating eyebrow was raised in confusion.

« Pardon me if I dare to show up and get Patton the stuff he needs. » everything was accompanied by a whispered “geez” and an eye-roll.

Again, infuriating.

« That's not- ugh, you're always putting words in my mouth! » Roman watched as Virgil started to walk away.

But he didn't sense the bitterness left in the boy's chest, the one he felt every single time their conversations resulted into senseless bickering.

Then, it happened again.

Virgil stood next to the fountain and Roman's head started spinning.

The way the sun rays hit the water, glimmering in delight, the sparkles that reflected onto Virgil's clothes, the sound it made when he quickly passed a hand through the small cascade.

Dumbfounded, the knight approached him again, searching the scene with his eyes for even the smallest clue to prove him either right or wrong, he simply wanted to get it over with.

Of course, the other noticed his staring. « Like what you see? » Virgil jokingly asked, a hint of sarcasm never leaving his voice.

Yeah, I'm trying to figure that out. Roman stayed silent for another second.

« Are you going to walk back? »

« I don't have a carriage, I apologize. »

He sighed and wondered if he really was considering having feelings for such a … a-

Virgil chuckled right after, ducking his head toward his hand, which shielded his smile.

Gosh, he was gorgeous.

Roman fought a peculiar instinct to pull the hand away and let the whole world be blessed by such a sight. And maybe it was the first time he had smiled like that in his presence, maybe it was the first time after so long of not being able to do that.

Maybe it wasn't the first time at all and Virgil was simply a master at hiding it when Roman wasn't looking. When he didn't want him to realize the truth that could've hurt both of them in brutal ways.

« Well, » Roman snapped back to reality, trying to ignore the headache at best. « It just so happens that I have a horse. » he gestured to the beginning of the plaza.

« No, you don't. » a cryptic expression crossed Virgil's face.

« Wha- » Roman turned just that much to notice that, yes, his horse had definitely freed himself and was now on the loose around the village. « Oh my gods. Oh- Oh my gods. » his hands flew to his hair. « Nope. No. Absolutely unreal. This isn't happening. »

« Dramatic much? » Virgil approached the broken ladder still tied to a fence and started examining it.

« What are you doing? »

« Helping you. »

Roman was getting drunk by all the deja vus he had been getting that day.

Virgil showed him the direction in which the horse had run away, judging by what was left of the ladder. « He might be in his favourite spot. »

« Favourite spot? » his words felt almost slurred, like he had cotton in his mouth.

The other pretended he didn't notice how odd his behaviour had been for the past week. « You don't remember your horse's own routine? »

Roman didn't even know he had one.

After some sighs and an incredulous conversation, they reached a clearing in the woods, where the horse was promptly considering whether or not to swiftly jump and reach one of the fruits on the trees.

« Samson! Really, running off like that on me? »

The animal happily trotted towards them, resting his face against Roman's hand before facing Virgil and surprisingly nuzzling his cheek. For some reason, Samson had always taken a liking into Virgil, which had made it really difficult to interact with the boy in the past.

It was as if Virgil had been his best friend before he was Roman's.

Like he had known him for as long as they did too.

The headache hit his forehead once more.

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

Relax time, Patton had called it.

Stressful weeks had been pestering Roman, Virgil and Logan, all for different reasons, yet there never seemed to be time to catch some breath.

Patton had insisted some untroubled hours at night, sat around a little welcoming fire, would have helped their constant stiffness.

So there they were, watching flames try to reach the sky and fail with every attempt.

Oddly enough, their conversations were … simple. Nothing too heavy, no bickering or sarcasm, some jokes but not an overbearing amount.

Roman had his eyes fixated on the fire.

The voices started to drift away from his hearing and everything became muffled as he zoned out, leaving space for the familiar buzzing of nightly insects.

« Earth to Roman, did the gods finally take you away? »

Of course he was sitting next to Virgil.

Of course his whispering would bring his attention back despite having ignored any other louder noise.

He turned his head slightly, his head was resting in his crossed arms on his knees.

« I wish. » he let it out before he could stop himself.

Virgil simply chuckled. « Same, but I don't think Pat would be too happy with that. » And some others, too.

He faced the fire and let its light reflect in his eyes.

Roman believed he could see the stars. « Mhm. »

Virgil seemed to ponder something, reflect on a decision; he could have stayed silent, he could have simply not indulged in a certain matter any further, because that would have costed his life. But he needed proof.

And so he spoke.

« You'll be fine, princey. None hates you here. »

There it was again. Virgil made his best not to immediately check his reaction, but he could see from the corner of his eye how Roman was already raising a hand to his head.

Okay, he thought, something is up.

He bit his lip and ignored the anguished feelings rising in his chest.

Yet I know it's true the visions are seldom all they seem.

Where did that even come from? Why did he call him that, why did it feel so normal as if he'd been used to it his entire life?

What was happening?

Why was his heart beating so fast as he replayed the scene in his head? With Virgil's eyes glimmering against the sky and that smile hidden in the dark.

Who dared to send him so deep in the admiration zone to forget about the continuous pain he was subjecting himself to while being around Virgil so much?

When exactly did he sign the “I will dedicate my existence to destroy myself in order to be around such a human” contract?

To think that months prior he would have called him monster.

Then again, what a peculiar word it was. A mixture or positive and negative meanings, it was the extraordinary, a prodigy, a miracle. That incredible thing that also presented itself as a heinous atrocity.

And it had devoured his mind.

Here he was, now, countless migraines after, finally accepting his feelings because he was at the last stop before having that nightmare finally end.

Except it didn't.

Except non-existent memories of him and Virgil in a past he had never experienced came back to him at once and stronger than before. He couldn't almost breathe and he had no idea where he was going.

But he needed to find Thomas.

Last resort, as they say. A literal deity would have solved the problem in the blink of an eye.

Right.

Thomas had a weird twinkle in his eyes when Roman explained how often he had been getting the headaches and what was the recurrent situation the dreams displayed.

He made him sit down somewhere … he was too clouded by the pain to understand where he was exactly.

« I perfectly know what's going on. » Thomas had reassured him. « Trust in me, everything will be alright soon. »

Yet, when he placed his hands above Roman's head and he closed his eyes not to be blinded by an all too familiar glow, “alright” would have been the last thing he would have felt.

Or it wouldn't have been a word at all, because with the persistent twisting and turning and deleting and reforming of his thoughts and memories in his mind, there was no way he believed there could have existed anything else but pain in the world.

Roman didn't even have the strength to scream anymore.

And it was agonizing. Dangerously agonizing, as he fell to his knees and couldn't even feel the touch of his own hands vehemently pressing on his eyes, strong enough to push them far back into his eye sockets.

Maybe he was actually shrieking so loud his hearing had failed him long before.

His fingers dug onto the sides of his face and fell down on his cheeks, the nails traced red paths down both of them, white bits of dead skin left by them crossed paths with bitter tears that were somehow able to escape the limit his palms put.

« Everything will be alright. » Thomas had repeated while he nonchalantly destroyed the poor boy's mind. « You don't need him. »

That was the downfall of his discernment.

« I'll fix it for you. »

But if I know you,

When the blinding light ceased to hit his face, Roman's entire body plunged into the pavement for a split second, before immediately scrambling back to his feet.

His vision was back, the headache was gone.

But the confusion …

The thoughts that were now forming into his mind. Those were the doleful sting of skin thrown carelessly into flames: just as the skin burned and turned into an ashen damaged substance, so Roman's memories were filled with blank gaps and eroded by the flames of Thomas's power.

« I need- » he stormed out of the room without ever completing the line.

What he needed was actual reassurance.

If before his memories only conflicted with each other, now Roman felt like his whole life he had lived an illusion.

Gods, what was even true at that point?

So, he needed.

He needed answers, confirmations, he needed to feel authenticity.

Roman knocked on a door.

When Virgil opened it, he was met with the sight of a dishevelled and devastated boy, with red on his cheeks and in his eyes. This boy suppressed a sob, barely able to keep his lips from trembling.

« Are you even real? »

It was the exact same feeling as having a crowbar hitting his teeth: insanely painful and impossible to bear.

Followed by colossal quantities of resentment.

Virgil moved carefully, he let Roman in before closing the door behind them and let him sit on a chair in his room. In a second, he was already at the knight's side with a glass of water placed on the desk next to them. Eyes wide with concern, trying to fight the angered shaking of his hands.

He knew it all. That was just the confirmation. Yet, he couldn't talk, only help. Which was the first priority at the moment: care for Roman.

« What happened? » nothing. « Are you hurt anywhere? » still nothing.

His lips contorted with concern; Virgil watched the other try to steady his breath, looking around the room to see if he could still distinguish whether or not he was hallucinating.

Roman raised his arms and pulled Virgil close to him. It felt real. He buried his face in his chest, and still felt real. The tears wetting Virgil's shirt were real.

Real, real, real.

You're real, Roman. He's real. Your feelings are real.

He held him closer.

I know what you'll do.

How long Virgil had denied everything in favour of his safety.

And anyway, as soon as he was back, Roman had instantly hated him, who could even blame him for suppressing the truth?

Then things changed. He had noticed the alterations in Roman's demeanour, the loss in his focus, how disoriented he had started to become.

Townspeople constantly told him to pray to the gods, go visit Thomas for some “blessings”.

Yeah, right.

Virgil's heavy knot contorted in his stomach at the sole thought.

Instead of burdening himself even more, he passed a hand through Roman's hair, maybe embracing him with his other arm a little too tightly.

His feelings blossomed at once again, so much harder than before, as if he had bottled them up for so much time that they exploded simultaneously at the first display of affection he received.

Too long he had waited for something as simple as a hug. And there was only one to blame.

Roman wasn't even able to talk, he didn't want to move and face his issues, there was no way he would have wished to speak up about anything that had happened.

He felt damaged. He barely knew his identity at all and Virgil's presence was so grounding that he would have stayed in his arms forever.

Which Virgil would have gladly accepted.

« Can you tell me a place? » Virgil lowered at his level so he could look him in the eyes. « Somewhere safe, a comforting space? »

Roman sniffed one last time before being finally able to respond.

« The Black Lake. »

You'll love me at once.

Seeing someone calm down on the spot, with the breathing evening out nicely, was a rather cathartic experience, Virgil's own tight chest could finally be released from the grip of anxiety.

The two were sitting by the limit of the Lake, which was enlightened by the moonbeams.

« Follow me now. » Virgil called for Roman's attention. « Focus on the water. »

Roman did as instructed.

« What's your name? »

Grounding exercises.

« Roman Kingsley. »

« How old are you? »

« 22. »

Virgil waited for Roman to take a deep breath.

« What's your title? »

« I'm a knight. »

What is the name of your brothe- « Tell me the name of one of your friends. »

« You. Virgil. »

How can you even exist?

Virgil tried to hide a wide smile at best, while his heart jumped happily.

« Where do you live? »

« In this village. »

« Where are you now? »

« At the lake in the forest. » Roman took more breaths with his eyes closed. « You're with me. You're a friend, I think? I don't know it's all so confusing- »

« It's okay, let's talk about something else. » Virgil let the silence sink in purposefully, so the other could regain his focus.

He watched as Roman moved closer to the water and immersed his hand in it, pushing the water away in vain.

« Can you tell me something you learnt by heart? »

Roman didn't take his eyes off of the water.

He seemed to think about it for a second. « If someone, Juventius, would let me kiss your honey-like eyes to the bitter end, » the steady movement of his hand was almost hypnotizing. « I'd kiss them three hundred thousand times; never will I feel like I'm satisfied, » he raised his hand and stared at the drops falling back into the lake, creating the chaos that mirrored the one in his head. « Not even if the harvest of our kissing were to be thicker than the dried ears of corn. »

Virgil snapped back to reality when he felt Roman's head rest on his shoulder, his eyes closed again, but this time they weren't squeezed shut with pain.

« Thank you. » he whispered.

And, for once, nothing was wrong.

✾

« Want to know why this is my favorite place? »

In another memory, in another past, Virgil had turned to Roman with a small but expectant smile. « Why? »

« No matter how many times I come here, » Roman had returned the smile, holding so many more things he was never going to be able to tell him. « You're always here with me. »

The way you did once upon a dream.

#prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #character thomas #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #sanders sides #fanfiction #read the warnings #purp's writings

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Note

(1.) I like your new format! and (b) I've been thinking about the idea of the end being Cas reordering heaven and Dean being able to choose to be with him there and thinking about why that upset me so much. I think my first reaction was not so much to your outline thoughts, and their hermetic/alchemy base (which i don't pretend to grasp fully), but more to doraspn's read - i hate the idea that someone who has battled a life of trauma, depression and low self-worth can only find peace in death 1/

/part2/ I know it's before Dabberens era, but Dean has twice refused the "peace" option (4.23 when Cas offers it, and s11 when Amara does), plus his character is deeply tied in to the earthy and sensory - food, sex, touch etc. And the show seems (to me) to be saying Cas is moving towards staying - on earth with Dean, maybe as human... Also those Matrix Reloaded videos left me tied in knots! Not sure what I'm asking here, but perhaps for some more of your thoughts. Enjoying this thinky stuff

Hi Nonnie! Lots to reply to here.

1. Re: format; Thanks! I’m still fishing around for some material to make a few more sliders congealing around P3, 4, 5, and SPN’s Shadow; and one around The Matrix, SPN and P5, but for the most part it’s done and I fixed most of the troublesome parts of the first time I converted to a layout like this (eg it hiding text/captions/etc on galleries and forcing them into single image columns)

2. I can recognize your upset with @doraspn‘s phrasing. Personally, from my many conversations with them, I don’t think they intended it the way it came across, but I’m not them, nor will I speak for them. I’m more the kind that tries to presume good faith in readings but I can understand why the phrasing/presentation was hurtful.

3. Eg, the rest.

You mentioned confusion both at the alchemical pathwork and at the Matrix stuff, so let me try a few different angles here. It’s gonna be a bit of a ride. I understand if you can’t soak it all due to personal processing, but see what you can grok from these collective videos I’ve made over the past few years. And yes, the songs are even chosen intentfully. If you have trouble following both in audio, feel free to google the song names for lyrics. After linking them, I’ll discuss a bit.

Parabol & Parabola by Tool (made midseason S14)

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46 & 2 by Tool (made post 14.20 following Lateralus Project theme P&P was built in midseason)

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These videos tackle two highly related topics in Supernatural.

Let it be said: obviously this isn’t an endorsement to run out and die because Fuck All, but let’s just say within the suprastructure of the show that we’re watching;

Andrew Dabb made a comment everybody has been panicking about, that the “death toll will be massive.” I, on the other hand, have a huge mood of “and?” and I think that baffles people how I can mutually suspect a fairly happy or positive ending (if bittersweet in parts) while shrugging that off.

So my simple question, partnered to ideas like Parabol & Parabola, is... should we really fear Death in Supernatural? If we were talking about proverbial death tolls, if Life Is A Highway, and Death and Life are two faces of the same coin, were Death Toll a form of taxation on the highway of life and death, Sam, Dean and their immediate confidants personal crossing past that line, over and back again (consider, if you will, the concept alongside Parabol & Parabola closer to the concept of reincarnation), they’re probably singlehandedly fixing the potholes and keeping the reaper structure online, pfff.

I mean, I use that phrasing loosely. But nothing and in no way has Death been presented as a true end; if anything, it is a point of new beginning. Okay, so humans go to heaven or hell or get stuck on earth and go crazy. And? The Winchesters and co power through that and find a new direction and a new purpose. Neither Death nor God can destrsoy or create souls -- only humans can destroy human souls, be it sacrificing their own for power or torturing each other in hell until the One True Thing, the light that makes them good (and like Jack, without it, is the Absence of Good) goes out, leaving only absence of that kind of spark, and similarity to Amara in her absence of god’s light.

Death, and God, and all these other things can find ways to box up souls, put them in suitcases or jars or trap them, or in the case of heaven, like MichaelDean’s headspace, give them contentment in heaven that pacifies them into not pursuing more, but in the end, where do they come from and to where do they go? Think to the 46 & 2 video and watch it a few times if you have to.

The concept of Shadow, Animus, Anima, Self and Godhood are basically the primitive self, the masculine ego (if we were, for example, to take their angelic daddy issue counterparts), then the feminine self in all things too (be that the need to fill Pamela into Dean’s bar, or the bartender in Sam’s dream, who coincidentally has the same actress as Dumah reflecting the Empty at Castiel, even -- though Cas has been known to take vessels of either sorts and has been argued to even have motherly or feminine aspects and DOES walk the goddess path in the show)

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The Magician and the Self are the master of all of these, to make gold of oneself and the parts in our life, the important things that should not be let go, regardless of what Chuck tells us. But “life” is relative here, in a world where we can reincarnate, time and again. In Sam and Dean’s case, it’s because they’re exceptional people in exceptional circumstances but the question then is, why can the rest of man not be given the same, and how do we right this system?

Which then of course comes down to my Matrix implications: The Architect and Chuck, how are they different? If angels are programs designed to keep his operating system functional; if humans are the power cells, human souls each like innumerable reactors; if he who has the most souls are become god;

if Castiel at one point tried to replicate this, but had no sorting system to keep them distracted or occupied and they ... well, they rebelled. But Chuck has ample systems. He has heaven, where people are distracted. He has hell, where humans tear each other apart. And he has... earth. Yes, earth. Where we are in fact convinced to desperately cling to the human bodies as part of the sandbox he designed, for fear of what waits for us. Again, as per the Shadow video, “I’m the cage,” what separates the defined human experience as it stands from that?

Reordering the suprastructure of the universe may very well give us the opportunity to make a new world, a better one, free of hunger, or want.

If, for example -- just one of the angles this could go; let’s say Cas unbirthed heaven like Rowena did hell. Neither of them truly perish. Their physical bodies die and will not return to earth, but these realms can directly interact. They endure, and can build entire new system structures. What if whoever unbirths heaven in the end makes it so EVERYONE can have the choice to reincarnate and gain new experiences? Or equally so the choice to go and make their own perfect worlds with anyone and everyone they choose, where man is his own agent and own god that defines the extent of his experience?

After all. Burgers can go cold in heaven. Physics are had there. It’s all cognitive, but by Chuck, so is earth. The only problem is that none of the people there are real, and in the end... people, families, that’s real. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?

So back to the Matrix: the architect like Chuck had built many worlds, and humans fell into it, becoming the driving power cores. Their revolt is the one thing the Architect would do anything to prevent or minimize, even if in a way, the Architect himself created the One. Angels are programs. Fallen angels are rogue programs. But even agent smith managed to convert “out” into humanity.

I’ve been all for human Cas endgame and, in a way, I still am. In fact, the very idea, the proposal of him taking over heaven prevents nothing of him living in eternity with the Winchesters. Be they having Jack take over the macrocosm of the universe and still dancing through earth as we know it, or eventually sunning their butts between incarnations or building their own realms with all they may want and have. Do they choose to incorporate the carnal edge of experience? Maybe! They know those things after all, so what prevents them of creating it any differently than Jack’s burger going friggin’ cold off of complex manifestations of memory?

What is life? What is the meaning of life? Is it sitting here with a thumping heart, locking ourselves up in rooms for fear of losing it, or is it the people, the families, the experiences we gather as a whole? And in the structure of Supernatural, if Sam and Dean were to die in physical body, does that mean they’re dead? Hell, does it even mean they’ve given up? Or do they actually have dreams and objectives to make better worlds and realities, to bring back every person they’ve lost?

What keeps, say, Dean from going to heaven and opening up a bar for travelers deciding if they wanna reincarnate and enjoy earth again and get new earthly experiences -- or if they’ve found their meaning, their purpose, their people, and they want to, by choice and not assigned fate, take those souls with them into their own worlds where they can make new and better ones? Break the cages, give power and freedom.

It’s a complex line of thought and takes some brain breaking because, as humans, naturally we fear Death. But the perspective of the heavily reincarnate Winchesters and the universe of the show we’re watching -- hell, Sam and Dean CAN’T even really just kill themselves to give up. Remember Lucifer was like meh, I’d just bring you back. So that ain’t it either. It’s not necessarily about giving up or being suicidal, should we come to this -- but about freedom, and choice, and sovereignty of man, and chosen love and family.

If the Shadow were the dreamer in the nothingspace that neverwas, the primitive man, who woke up and went “WTF?” one day and by mistake shat out primitive principles, like the demiurge YHVH/Chuck who happened to create the world by concept of Light and Grace, somewhere, it’s “Why do I exist?” Not to be too pedantic but remember when Mewtwo woke up in a test tube and just kept asking that over and over again. Hell, DO I exist. What is the meaning of this allnothing? and to make it by that question, and to try to find meaning in it, and to gain a million individual experiences, and become a million people, all developing their own personalities and egos and identities and lives and memories, but all to ask, and search, and find -- and still to come back to itself, each other, and by those experiences we become whole.

Eileen’s ghost didn’t hear. We can say it was just for politically correct reasons. Or we can consider that the soul that entered into that body never knew what it meant to have those senses in the matrix, and it was irrelevant in the end. It did not define who she was, and did not need to, because she had her own definition and her own life and her own self. But like everyone else, she gravitates to those she has a connection to. Sometimes with prodding from Chuck. In other cases, against his best efforts, some connections make themselves.

I’ve reached the point of ranting, but maybe this has explained what I’m talking about in these things?

To me, “suicide” in its form as given by the show isn’t just deciding not to need earth as it stands anymore. It’s giving up. It’s surrendering to the cages. It’s Dean wanting to be rocketed off into the depths of space or thrown into the ocean (or, just as bad, throwing Cas into it in his place). It’s giving in to the boxes, to not want to maintain freedom to pursue and explore. So, if Dean should, for example, choose to go to heaven in the end, if this system has been rebuilt-- I really don’t consider that suicidal or death. I consider that a real step into life, and the self.

** Obvious disclaimer let’s not endorse this as a real world line of thinking unless you too like Sam and Dean Winchester can reincarnate after half an episode thanks

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sailorshadzter · 4 years

Text

soon you’ll get better.

part 2 to my taylor swift lover album inspired jonsa series. (<--- thats really a mouthful lol)

im really excited to get further into the album, but recently, it was one of my best friend’s mom’s birthdays, though she passed away about nine years ago now. she was like a second mother to me & i miss her a lot. there were so many days i spent with her while she was sick & a lot of time i spent with her daughters. her younger two girls are like my little sisters.

anyways, i originally wasnt even going to INCLUDE this song in the series, but thinking about this “second mom” of mine inspired me to write this instead.

also, next time, i’m not certain ill follow this same set up.

it might be a time skip, it might be an “inspired by” rather than using the lyrics themselves. who knows! we’ll see what happens.

hope you guys enjoy. :)

It's been several long, grueling weeks without seeing her.

Jon frequents Seasalt Tavern, even on trivia night, if only to catch a glimpse of that shiny red hair. But each night, he's let down. Even now, he hears her song in his brain. The echo of her words, soft and true, sing him to sleep when he closes his eyes each night. She haunts him, in a way no woman has ever done before.

Lunch break. It comes every day, a glorious hour where Jon steps away from his desk if only to stretch his legs. He joined the Westeros Special Forces unit only six months ago, a transfer in from the Northern faction, deciding to head South for a change of scenery post break up. Ygritte had been... Well, a spitfire, to say the least. And hard to forget. Their relationship had been as fiery as her temper and her hair. Yeah, he has a type, so sue him. While he didn't miss the fights and the theatrics of the relationship, he missed being with someone. Ygritte cared about him in her own, weird sort of way, and he misses the companionship she had provided him for nearly three years.

Jon sighs as he steps out into the afternoon sun, deciding the local coffee shop would suffice for lunch today. It's only a short walk up the street and Jon finds himself stepping inside within minutes, the blast of cold air refreshing. Six months in of living in the South and Jon still hasn't quite adjusted to the heat. He misses the icy cold air of the North- somehow, it felt cleaner up there. That ache in your lungs you felt when you took in the first breath of cold, morning air... He misses that almost as much as he misses the fiery warmth of a woman in his bed.

The girl behind the counter smiles and offers a wave- she's a University student, Jon has learned in his time coming here, eager to graduate the following spring and step into a new world as a nurse. "Hey Jon," she greets as he approaches, "the usual?" It's Jon's turn to grin as he nods and turns to head towards his usual table, but is surprised to find it already occupied.

And just like that, there she is.

She's surrounded by notebooks and a textbook or two, though she seems focused on a single notebook. Her red hair is twisted back into braids and tucked up with pins, though a few strands have fallen free to frame her face. Jon sucks in a breath as he watches her for only a moment more, for she looks up then and notices him staring. At once, she sits up straighter, squinting her eyes as recognition spreads across her face. "Hey," she says after a moment, folding her arms over the tabletop as she leans forward. "Jon, right?" She says, though she's not forgotten his name. She's recited it over and over and over again since the night they met. "Nice suit." Her eyes trail him up and down and Jon feels warmth spread to his cheeks, her lip gloss lips curving with a smile. If she notices the gun strapped to his hip, she doesn't mention it.

"Call it a drawback to the job," Jon jokes a moment later when he finally finds his voice again, the sweet sound of her laughter ringing in his ears. His heart soars. "I haven't seen you, at the bar I mean." He says and at once, he regrets it. She sits up straighter, those ocean blue eyes widening ever so slightly as she regards him closely. "I-I mean, they're talking about you. About your song, your voice." Smooth, he thinks as he can only hope a hole opens up on the floor and swallows him up. Just then, the barista appears with his steaming drink, to which he grins and gives his thanks before the girl is gone, leaving him there to probably continue to embarrass himself. But to his surprise, she does not send him away with a scowl or cruel words, rather her face softens and she gestures for him to sit.

"If you want," she says, an offering, her head tilted to the side, the stray strand of hair falling just across her forehead. He wishes he could push it back, he wishes he could feel it between his fingers. It takes him only a moment to take the seat across from her, his to-go cup warm despite the cardboard slip around it's middle. "I've been busy," she says by way of explanation, a fleeting look of sadness crossing her features as she looks back at him. For some reason, despite not knowing him, Sansa feels as if she can trust him. His dark, solemn eyes give her a sense of hope she's not felt in a long time. "Besides, I couldn't come back without another song."

"So there's another one?" He asks, taking the first sip of his coffee. It's a simple order, a caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, one which he never deviates from. "Open mic night is next week, isn't it?" She grins and nods, telling him she heard from her friend Margaery about the next date and that she would be there.

"Margaery has been trying to drag me out for weeks now, I haven't-" she stops, realizing she's about to dump something on him that's probably beyond a normal talking point for a first real conversation. As if Jon senses her uncertainty, he offers her a smile and encourages her to go on. "It's my mother..." Sansa shifts in her chair, absently swirling the last swallow of coffee in her mug as she looks anywhere but Jon's face. "She's sick and I... Between taking care of her and my little brothers and sister..." She looks up and it's written all over Jon's face- sympathy, yet understanding. There is no judgment, there is nothing but warmth. Somehow, it's as if she's known him all her life, not a single conversation in a dark bar. "Anyways, Margaery says it's good if I get out sometimes, you know? So I let her drag me out every now and again." She smiles as she thinks of her friend, who she knows loves her dearly. Margaery was a good, no a great, friend and Sansa reminds herself to give her friend a hug.

"I'm sorry... About your mother." Jon says after a moment, knowing the pain of losing a mother, though he doesn't mention such a thing to her. The last thing he wants to do is remind her of what she certainly worries about often. "You have siblings?" He asks instead and is delighted to see the smile brighten up her face as she nods.

"Three of them. Two brothers, Bran is thirteen and Rickon is nine. Arya is fifteen." Her little siblings are her entire world. They have always been close, the Stark children that is, especially so in the four years since Robb had died. But even as kids, even with the years between them all, they had always been close. And with her mother's illness and her father's business, it left much of raising them to her. She could not remember a time where she was not with the little ones, though now that they're older and mostly taking care of themselves, she wishes she could go back. It hadn't always been easy, but she loved every moment spent with those little siblings of hers. "What about you?"

Jon smiles when he shakes his head. "I don't have much family at all, well aside for a distant cousin who lives in Essos." He had never known his father and his mother had died when he was just a kid, leaving him to be raised in foster homes until he came of age. "It's just me and Ghost, honestly."

"Ghost?" She asks and Jon can't stop from reaching for his cell phone, pulling up the most recent photo of the big, white dog he means. "A wolf dog?!" She blurts without warning, excitedly reaching for her own phone, which lay beside the notebook she'd been writing in. She taps the screen and shows him the background photo- a family photo of five kids with varying shades of hair, each proudly standing with shaggy pups that were as colorful as them. She draws the phone back towards her and when she hands it back, there's a photo instead of a beautiful gray wolf like dog, who's eyes are more gold than yellow. "That's Lady."

"You all have them?" Jon is surprised- he's never met another person with a wolf dog like Ghost, let alone a family of them.

"My father... He found an entire litter when we were kids," she explains, the memory burned into her brain as if it had happened only yesterday. "My family's sigil is a direwolf, so my father said he couldn't just turn them away. He said they came to us for a reason." For a litter of pups to be born, five pups for the five Stark children, it had surely been a sign from the Old Gods, and so despite her mother's wishes, all the puppies came home to the children. The way he's leaning over the table, he can see the soft curves of her handwriting on the paper- small and neat, her handwriting fits her perfectly. She must notice him looking for she grins and slides the paper towards him. "Next week's song," she says, tapping the top where she's written the apparent name across the top. "I think it's finished... I hope it's finished."

Jon reads only the first few lines before he pushes it back towards her. "I want to hear it when it is," he says and drains the last sip of his drink. "Listen, I have to head back to the office now but I uh... I'll see you next week." He rises up to his feet, the scrape of the chair against the floor the only noise in the room for a single moment. Sansa smiles and yet again, Jon is rendered breathless by her. If only this moment could last forever.

"Yeah, next week," she replies, barely breathing herself.

When Jon approaches the desk to pay for his drink, he tells the barista he wants to pay for her drink too. Though she's surprised, the young woman does as he's bid and waves to him as he takes the receipt and his change and heads for the door. Just as he goes to toss it into the waste bin, he peaks at the receipt and to his surprise, sees that she must have ordered the very same drink as him.

[ x x x ]

The bar is quiet as Sansa climbs up to the stage again.

Again, accompanied only by her guitar, she gazes out into the crowd of people, smiling down at her brunette friend before she speaks into the microphone. "I had an entirely different song planned for this night a few weeks ago, but my mother... She's sick and she's relapsed so I wrote this for her." In the long nights beside the hospital bed, the beeping of the machines her only melody, she had penned these lyrics. She had scribbled these lines onto napkins and the back of her hand. She had written this song to remind herself that in the end, her mother would step out of the hospital and home would become home again. Taking a deep breath, she strums the guitar and finds the right note.

And then she sings.

"The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared That was the first time we were there."

Jon sits at the bar again.

It's his usual spot, with his usual drink in hand. He had saw her come in- red hair in curls and her impossibly long legs wrapped in denim- but hadn't got a chance to talk to her. Her friend, Margaery he thinks it is, sits where she sat the first time, but this time the guy she had been crushing on sits beside her, arm around her waist.

The song Sansa sings... He recalls reading those first few lines in the coffee shop but hearing her silky voice singing them makes all the difference. She's stronger this time- less nervous than she must have been the first time around and Jon is surprised when from across the room, their eyes meet.

And he swears his heart must stop.

"Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon 'Cause you have to."

Those words are the soft plea of a daughter to her sick mother, the simple view that there was no other option than to recover. Jon glances around the room and can see there are at least five others in that room who know the feelings she's singing about.

Yet again, Sansa's song is reaching people.

"I know delusion when I see it in the mirror You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal I just pretend it isn't real I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try."

One of the women Jon had noticed earlier is openly crying at her table now and he recognizes her as the one who had lost her mother only a month before. Jon recalls that pain himself, despite the years that it's been since he lost his own mother. He can still recall the sweet scent of her perfume, but he's forgotten what her voice sounded like or how warm her arms had been whenever she hugged him. It's been many years since he lost his mother, but the pain of it never goes away. Not entirely.

On the stage, Sansa too sees the woman that cries softly at her table, the man beside her wrapping his arm around her in comfort. She wishes she hadn't made her cry, she feels bad about that, in truth, but there's no stopping now.

"And I hate to make this all about me But who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do If there's no you? This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to."

As she breaks into the final chords, the final repeat of soon you'll get better, she looks out into the faces around her, wondering just how many of them out there got the message. How many others besides that single woman understood the pain of watching someone they loved go through an illness? Probably too many, she realizes.

When her hand finally falls from the guitar and silence descends, she lets out the breath she's been holding and her heart skips a beat when the first claps begin. And then it's every person in the bar that's clapping, some even cheering as she smiles for them and descends down to join Margaery at the table.

Jon watches as she escapes from her friend and instead crosses the room to approach the other crying woman. They embrace and when Sansa pulls back, the woman holds her at arm's length as they talk. When they finish their conversation, Sansa does not return to Margaery's table but to his shock, she comes towards the bar to stand before him where he sits on his usual stool. "Buy me a drink?" She asks with a grin and for a moment, Jon is too stunned to say anything. But then he nods and she slides onto the stool beside him, so close that again he catches the scent of her sweet perfume.

They talk for what could be several hours, Jon seems to have lost track of the time as he sits there with her. It isn't until Margaery approaches her, a touch to her shoulder, a quick but silent it's time to go home. "I have to go," she says, brushing a curl behind an ear, revealing the three little studs she wears in her lobes. "Maybe we don't have to wait until the next mic night to see each other," she grins as she slides a piece of paper towards him as she hops of the stool, a little wobbly after her three drinks. Before Jon can speak, she's rushing after Margaery who waits at the door for her, her guy already out in the lot to fetch the car.

Jon lifts up the piece of paper and he finds his heart is racing as he realizes it's her phone number written there. Pre written, he realizes, meaning she had always intended on giving it to him. He feels warm and it's not just because of the four drinks he's consumed sitting there with Sansa. Okay... That might be partly to blame, but mostly he's just beyond happy. He reaches for his phone and adds her into his contacts list, clicking the new message icon, though he hesitates for a moment. Was it weird if he texted her so quickly? No, he decides, she gave him her number, which meant she wanted him to text her.

And so he taps the message space and begins to type.

Sansa is climbing into the backseat of the car when her phone beeps.

She fishes it out of her purse and her heart skips a beat when she sees it is a number not yet saved to her contacts. "He texted you? Already?" Margaery is excited in the front seat, the one who had encouraged Sansa to talk to him that night, the one to write down her phone number for Sansa to give to him. "I told you," she mumbled as she turned back around, smiling to herself as she thinks of the way the dark haired, brooding sort of man had been staring at her friend both last time and tonight. After the last relationship Sansa had been in, she deserved someone who looked at her like this Jon looked at her.

On Sunday's I take Ghost to the dog park. Maybe Lady would like to join him?

Sansa smiles and types a quick reply.

Just as he's sliding off the stool that his phone lights up on the bar. Jon can't help but to chuckle when he sees her response.

Lady would love that, but I hope I'm invited. 👀

When she reads his response, she's grinning, a strange warmth filling her up, threatening to spill over. Sorry, I forget how to act when I think about cute dogs owned by cute girls. Another text comes before she can reply to the first. I'll see you and Lady both there, say noon?

She nods, though he can't see, and hits send on her own message.

Jon climbs into his car and hears the beep of her reply. We'll see you there. :)

He drives himself home and it isn't until he's settled into his apartment that he realizes his phone went off without him noticing. Unlocking the screen, he's surprised to see it's a picture message, rather than just a normal text. This is how she looks at me when I tell her we have plans tomorrow. The picture is of Lady asleep on the couch, or at least pretending to be, as she has one yellow eye open looking up at Sansa who must be leaning over her to snap the picture. We're going to bed, see you tomorrow. I promise she's as excited as I am. Her next text comes a moment later and Jon grins down at Ghost, reciting the message aloud to the dog. "She's excited..." He murmurs as he sinks back into the couch, not fully prepared to head to bed.

In her bedroom, stripped down to nothing but a t-shirt, Sansa is climbing into bed when her phone vibrates on her bedside table. Reaching for it, she blinks against the brightness of her screen so she can read Jon's last message. Ghost on the other hand... A pause and then the photo comes, making her smile as she clicks it to enlarge it. It's of the great big white wolf, grinning like only a dog can, clearly excited by something Jon is doing or saying. Sleep tight, girls, comes last and as Sansa curls up beneath her blankets, she smiles to herself, not yet daring to believe that this is entirely real. Jon seems almost too good to be true. Though, she supposes there's only one way to figure it out. She hasn't dated in well over a year... Not since Joffrey... But something tells her Jon is the farthest type from Joffrey that could ever possibly be.

As she closes her eyes, she thinks of him, of those deep set brown eyes, and falls asleep.

#jonsa #jonsa au #modern au #jon x sansa #taylor swift #album: lover #now i really want to write their date at the dog park lol

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shyly-yours · 4 years

Text

not too obvious

notes: was inspired by a reddit snapshot. it’s really quite adorable.

---

“Quick, let me hold your hand!”

“Sora, I’m eating lunch--”

“I only have five minutes to feel everybody’s hand before I have to make my next delivery!”

Lea put down his chopsticks inside the Cheeto’s bag he was holding. He wasn’t five anymore and did not appreciate cheesy powder clinging to his clean hands. “First, gross. Second, do I even--hey!”

Sora took Lea’s free hand and interlaced their fingers in a firm hold for several seconds. The hungry man learned the best tactic to any Sora brand shenanigans was to let it play out, and then bail when it looked like government enforcement got involved. “I would say you should buy me dinner first, but I kind of think Riku would have a problem with his boyfriend of four years taking out his ex-lover on a date.”

“No, this isn’t right either,” Sora mumbled and then sighed while letting Lea go. “I’ve held at least a hundred hands today and none of them are right!”

Shaking out his released digits, Lea set down his Cheeto’s, leaned forward on the table they were currently occupying, placed his elbows on the surface, and put his head onto his folded hands. “Well, if we’re doing hand counts now--instead of bodies--I can positively say you’ve actually one upped me for once. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ve done Kairi, Ventus, Roxas, Terra, and Xehanort--”

“Maybe, check, check, check, and what the fuck.”

“--and none of them feel right.” Sora ruffled his spikes as he sighed. “Why are you the only one here? I was hoping to feel Isa’s hand before he left for band practice. Did he leave already?!”

“It’s a holiday, dumbass. How did you even get in here? The shop isn’t open--waaait, did you make copies of the key I gave you years back?”

“There’s no time for questions, Lea! It’s imperative you tell me where Isa is!!”

“I’m not telling you where my other half is if you’re just going to molest him like you did me.”

“What?! I did NOT--”

“Sora? What are you doing here?” Namine’s sweet voice asked from the break room doorway. “Doesn’t Riku have a show tonight? You’re usually with him when he does.”

“Let me hold your hand!”

----

There was a talent show at a convention Sora took Riku to that one time. They were dressed as popular video game characters that Riku had no clue about, but he would do just about anything for Sora (well, okay, he would do anything for Sora), and they received positive comments everywhere they went. Therefore, it was easy for Sora to persuade Riku into a duet to “give the people what they want”. It was a wonderful memory Riku cherished very much.

He has to remind himself that Sora didn’t orchestrate Riku being discovered by an attending talent agency representative. Riku thought it was a joke at first--he was a good singer, but he didn’t think it would necessitate things like recording contracts or publicity interviews. He wasn’t so far gone into stardom that he needed a bodyguard to protect him from invading paparazzi. He was in that sweet spot of having gained enough notoriety to be recognized once or twice while buying toilet paper with his cute boyfriend at the local supermarket.

It’s just... most of the good things to happen in Riku’s life are usually associated with Sora. It took him a while to recognize self sabotage and learning to take time-outs when haunting thoughts resurfaced before old habits reverted him back to a person Riku didn’t like. Sora met him at this stage in his life--a chapter where Riku looked at gift horses in the mouth and manipulated the situation into a disaster before anybody else could ruin it. Despite fading into a toxic shell, Sora remained his friend, eventually a best friend, and coaxed Riku back “into the light” where Sora knew he belonged. Such a genuine person deserved somebody who didn’t occasionally hiccup, right?

“So when are you planning on asking him?”

Riku and Kairi sat side-by-side on the edge of the amphitheater stage. “You don’t think it’s too soon to ask him to marry me?”

Kairi shoved Riku’s shoulder with hers and said in a disbelieving tone, “Are you seriously asking my opinion about whether or not you should ask Sora, our impulsive and reckless and dearly beloved Sora who you have been dating and living with for a while now--”

“Only because I was getting evicted!”

“--who, might I also add, has been deeply in love with you since the day you two first met--”

“You just said he’s impulsive and reckless. I don’t know if I’ve been complimented or insulted.”

“--and whether or not you should marry him?”

Kairi stared.

“...the jury’s still out?”

And then smacked Riku upside the head.

----

What’s fascinating about the world of Sora is that he inherently knows when the time is right. His mother always told him to follow his heart when it came to the facts of life and making tough choices. Leaving Destiny Islands behind was an internal struggle, but a necessary change as Sora felt the universe calling him elsewhere. He made new friends, reunited with other adventuring islanders, and eventually landed in the energetic hubbub of Radiant Garden.

This is where he met Riku, one of the adventuring islanders Sora was surprised existed (although now he knows better than think he was the first to venture away from Destiny Islands). It wasn’t obvious then, but Sora’s heart knew Riku would always be a part of his life. Now to find the correct hand measurement for the ring he wanted to buy to further cement Riku’s permanency in his world.

“I’m really exhausted trying to find Cinderella’s shoe--”

“We made a list of code words, Sora, and you’re still sticking to this one?!”

“--and I’m not going to give up until I find the right hand, but Aqua I’m really starting to freak out here. LOOK OUT I’M COMING THROUGH!”

Sora threw his cellphone into the bicycle basket in order to put both of his hands onto the handlebars for better swerve control. Exclamations and shocked shouts were hollered in his direction both from walking pedestrians and his mobile. Sora was never meant to multitask at any capacity no matter his stubbornness to improve his lack of skill. Riku said Sora must have been born under a new moon to have been inhibited with so much chaos.

“SORA! What’s happening?!”

Out of harms way and coming up to his final destination, Sora plucked his cell out of the basket and resumed his conversation. “Sorry, Aqua! Yen Sid’s Bao buns have been really popular today and he called me in to help with deliveries before Riku’s concert tonight!”

Aqua sighed in disapproval. “I really wish you wouldn’t talk and drive, Sora.”

“It hasn’t been that bad today! I only crashed once and it was smooth sailing up until just a minute ago.”

“So let’s reset the accident calendar to ‘zero days since last incident’, shall we?”

“Can we focus on what’s really important right now?”

“Oh! You mean you don’t want to discuss the state of your health and well-being? Because I have a mountain of evidence that says there should have been an intervention weeks ago.”

It was Sora’s turn to sigh. “Okay, I hear you Aqua! I need to take better care of myself! No need to mother hen me into an early grave.”

“I love you, Sora, but how does that even make sense?”

“Listen,” Sora grabbed the last take-out bag, walked up to the townhouse front door, and knocked. “I haven’t found a hand that resembles Riku’s and if I don’t get the ring size for the jeweler soon, tonight will be ruined. Well, not ruined-ruined because Riku is perfect and wonderful and his show is going to be GREAT but, like, I want to be married to him already, Aqua!”

The last part of Sora’s tirade came out whiny and the person who answered his knock heard every single syllable. “Um...”

“Oh! Hello, my name’s Sora and I’m your delivery service today! Oh behalf of Heavenly Buns we thank you for your order!”

“I thought you were joking when you said that was the name of Yen Sid’s restaurant,” Aqua mumbled to herself.

The patron smiled at Sora’s enthusiasm. “Awesome! I paid over the app already, but, um, give me a sec to get get you a tip.”

Already on the edge of despair from time’s harsh reality, Sora glanced at his wristwatch (anniversary gift) and said, “It’s totally okay! Your thanks is enough!”

“No, no, no, I have my wallet nearby. I used to work as a pizza delivery guy and I know how hard this job can be,” the customer said. He grabbed his food and left to find the aforementioned wallet leaving Sora to awkwardly stand on his doorstep.

“It’s nice to know there’s still decent people around,” his phone crackled.

Biting his lip nervously, Sora sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’m really anxious about getting his ring in time and, well...”

“I’m listening.”

“...him saying yes.”

Sora couldn’t see her, but Aqua has been his confident throughout this excursion and he knew she was softly smiling. “Sora... do you want me to list all of the reasons why he is going to say yes to you like Kairi? Or do you want me to sprout endless quips like Lea until you finally get it knocked into your brain?”

“Um, how about some mother henning like Aqua?” It was Sora’s worst kept secret that he gravitated towards his friends that had strong maternal qualities when he had an episode. It was his quiet way of remembering his mother who passed two years earlier.

Sora heard a change of background noise and the click of a door shutting. He imagined Aqua stepped outside of her house as she tended to do that to better focus on serious conversations. “I may not have known you two from the beginning of your relationship, but I rarely see a person look at you the way Riku does every time you’re both in the same room together, Sora. You might not notice, but Riku is always making sure you’re comfortable first before he takes care of his own needs. He’s a dependable young man that cherishes the heart you have given him and he will always protect it from harm. It actually makes me jealous you found somebody that compatible in midst of your uncontrollable life.”

Rubbing at his eyes, Sora released a surprised laugh. Shakily, he said, “Riku worked hard to become the person he is now. He just needed somebody to believe in him to start creating the future he has now. I mean, he’s going to the next biggest pop star, Aqua! I can’t let him be tied down with me when his career hasn’t even started yet!”

“You’re doing it again, Sora.”

“...doing what?”

“Not believing in you. He won’t say no because he suddenly has a new life ahead of him. He’ll only say no if this isn’t something you want. Which, by the way ding-dong, are you already forgetting how passionate you were about wanting to be ‘married to him already’?”

“But what if he doesn’t want this?!”

“Then you will come to my place and we will hash it out over some moscato while Kairi and Lea wreak hell upon his person until he see’s sense again.”

“I don’t want him forced into marrying me, Aqua! That’s got to be illegal in several countries if not all of them!”

A throat cleared behind Sora. “Uh,” it was the customer back with the promised munny. “That sounds like a really interesting conversation you got going on there, buddy.”

Sora turned red in embarrassment. “Well, uh...” in for a penny, in for a pound. “Just, y’know, having an internal crisis about whether or not my almost famous boyfriend wants to settle down with,” Sora paused and gestured to himself, “this.”

Caught in the moment with this exchange of words, Sora barely heard Aqua on his phone, “I know you just didn’t call yourself a ‘this’. That is the equivalent of ‘it’ and you are worth so much more than that.”

The client clearly had no idea what to do. “Oh, well, um, good luck with that?” He shoved his fistful of munny at Sora. “And here! Thank you again for the delivery!”

Sora looked at the patron’s outstretched hand and froze.

“...Are you... are you okay?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“...What?”

“Your hand! Can I hold it just for a quick second, please? I promise this isn’t for something weird--well, it’s a weird request, yes I know, because you don’t know me--well, you kind of do because I told you my name, but I don’t know yours! What’s your name? WAIT, that’s not important right now! Please help me propose to my boyfriend who I love very much?!” Sora looked at the guy with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. Considering the emotional rollercoaster he has been through recently it didn’t take much effort on his part.

The guy’s eyes widened as he considered calling for help. “Look, can you please just take the munny and go? My buns are getting cold.”

“I’ll pay for your dinner if you just hold my hand for a few seconds, sir, and I promise you’ll never see or hear from me again! Unless you wanna be friends!!”

“...Okay, I guess?”

Relieved, Sora set his phone down onto the townhouse banister and reached for his wallet to pull out munny. Elsewhere, Aqua facepalmed in exasperation. Sora was a sweet kid, truly, but his eccentric approach to life is why Lea purchased the accident calendar to go next to the tally marks of how many new friends Sora makes in a week. Sometimes their group makes bets.

Aqua smiled when she heard Sora’s shout of excitement on the other end of the line (and casually overlooked the distressed sound from the ex-pizza man).

----

note: part one of two...?

#kingdom hearts #soriku #riku x sora #mawwiage #engagement fic #ficlet #fanfiction #writing inspo

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emotionally-imbruised · 5 years

Text

To Fall In Love Again: Chapter Three

Chapter song: Bobcaygeon by The Tragically Hip

Word Count: 8.3k

“Love, just hear me out,” Harry pleads as he follows after her and feels as though his heart has plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

Zoe doesn’t really know what to do in this situation. She feels as though life is really just out to get her at this point with all the curveballs she’s been thrown as of late and now to top it all off; she finds out that her dad died... and of course she can’t remember anything about it. The traumatic experience of losing a loved one is everlasting, but since she forgets this happening entirely — she’s completely overcome by the shock of what she’d just heard Harry talking to the two people in the kitchen about and now feels as though she’s suffocating.

There is no effort from her this time when it comes to wiping away the tears that just don’t seem to stop flowing from her eyes as she heads down the hallway towards the front door; desperately craving some fresh air with how it feels as though she’s on the verge of a complete breakdown. She’s fully aware of Harry being only a few steps behind her but doesn’t pay him any attention when she comes to a quick stop so she can put on a pair of white Converse from the shoe rack that she can only assume are hers, before whipping open the door and getting ready to step outside; only to have her actions halted when a hand grabs onto arm, preventing her from going any further.

“Zoe, please.”

She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Harry who has stopped her and although the desperation in his voice strikes something within her, it’s not enough for her to forget about everything else that has just happened. With a deep breath, she turns around to face him and it’s then she sees the tears that have welled in his eyes as well. His green orbs captivate her a little more in this moment but she’s quick in shaking her head and pulling her arm away from his grasp. “I can’t, not yet.”

“Love, I-.”

“You lied to me Harry!” He’s taken aback by her sudden outburst, but he also knows he can’t say much because that is exactly what he did. “From the moment we talked in your room at the hospital there was just something about you that made me think I could trust you. Something that made me think every word that left your mouth was genuine and real… but then you go and lie to my face about my dad? What in the hell gave you the right to not tell me that my dad is dead, hmm? You had no means to keep something like that from me, especially if you knew how important he was to me.”

“Zoe, that’s not the case at all. I-I didn’t know how to tell you. We’ve been through so much lately, I couldn’t bring myself to bombard you with this too. I didn’t want to see you go through this pain again.”

She considers what he says, and for a brief moment Harry believes he may have gotten through to her— but that proves to be wrong when a slight scoff leaves her mouth and she adverts her eyes from his own. “I’m not this fragile piece of glass that has a ‘handle with care’ label stuck to her forehead, Harry. I’m still trying to figure everything out after this accident, yes, but fuck I’m trying and man does it suck seeing someone I thought legitimately knew me, knew me almost as well as I know myself even in these circumstances, think that. Because you couldn’t be more wrong… and clearly I was mistaken to assume such a thing when it came to you knowing me at all.”

Without another word, Zoe grabs a jean jacket that hangs on a nearby hook before stepping out the door and shutting it right behind her; leaving Harry to stand frozen in her wake, staring blankly at the spot she had just occupied and not being able to comprehend what the hell just happened. It takes him a few seconds but once he finally processes everything, he’s wasting no time in turning around to go upstairs to put on a hoodie so he can go after her.

“Harry you need to stay here,” a voice states from behind him once he reaches the midpoint of the staircase.

“Alexa, I can’t just stay here. She doesn’t even know where she’s going, how do I know she’ll make it back ok? What if-.” He starts rambling as he turns around to face his friend who is now standing at the front door zipping up her knee-high boots with her jacket in hand.

“Did you not listen to a single thing she just said, H? She feels betrayed and is clearly upset over the news of her dad. I hate to break it to you, but you’re probably the last person she wants to talk to right now, mate.” Alexa tells him firmly as she reaches for the door handle before turning to look at Grimmy, who is now standing at the bottom of the staircase looking back and forth between her and Harry. “Make sure he doesn’t leave.”

“Yes ma’am,” the radio talk show host responds before Alexa disappears out the door to search for their friend; leaving to two men alone and Nick sure isn’t able to ignore the sigh of defeat Harry lets out as he slumps down on the steps, leaning his head against his unslung hand in a feeling of absolute failure.

Zoe really hasn’t made it that far and is now standing in one spot finding herself more and more frustrated with each passing minute. Of all the things she could’ve worn, it just had to be the yellow flowered sundress that caught her eye as soon as she stepped foot into Harry’s closet, and she just hadto storm out of the house on an oddly windy day that made even the idea of wearing such a thing seem to be a nuisance. She uses her left hand to grip onto the bottom of the dress, so it doesn’t fly around and show off everything she’s got, while her right hand desperately tries to type in a 4-digit passcode on the cell phone she’s holding.

There’s no doubt in her mind that this is her phone by the picture of her and Harry that is set as the lock screen, but since she first found it amongst her possessions when she woke up in the hospital room, she’s been unable to get into it. The device has seemingly been trying to scan her thumbprint but keeps stating a passcode needs to be used to unlock in order for a so-called Touch ID to work, which just isn’t happening.

After a few more failed attempts at punching in a series of 4-digit codes she thinks it could possibly be, a message pops up saying the phone has been disabled for one minute due to all of her failed tries at unlocking it. An aggravated groan leaves her mouth as she stares at the screen before letting her hand fall to her side and instinctively pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth as she thinks of what to do next. However, before she can even conjure up an idea of where to go from there, a female voice speaks up from behind her. “Did you try 0201?”

Zoe immediately turns around to look at the person and finds herself face to face with the woman that was sat in Harry’s kitchen just minutes ago. She glances down at the phone that’s still gripped tightly in her hand as the message disappears and she’s able to try a passcode again. She types in the four numbers the woman suggested and sure enough, the phone unlocks with a satisfying click. The shock Zoe’s feeling is evident on her face as she takes a second to swipe through the phone a little bit, but quickly snaps out of it so she can look at the woman again. “How did you-?”

“Know the passcode?” She asks with a chuckle, and sends Zoe a friendly smile. “February 1st, 0201, it’s Harry’s birthday. You’ve had that set as your passcode since about a month after the two of you started dating because you thought your own birthday was, and I quote, ‘too predictable.’ Can’t say I’m surprised it hasn’t changed since then, same old Zoe.”

“You’re-,” Zoe starts as she stares at the woman and cocks her head to the side a little bit, studying her. “You’re Alexa Chung… we’ve met before.”

“That we have,” Alexa responds and lets her smile widen. “Back in the day at a shoot for-.”

“For Longchamp, I remember.” Zoe can’t help the slight sob that leaves her mouth as she says this because this is the first thing, she’s been able to recall from her memory of the last six years since the accident. It’s not much, but the more she thinks about it — the more she can remember regarding those first couple of months that has been nothing but a blur to her for the past two days. “That was one of the last photoshoots I ever did as a model, it wasn’t long after then I finally landed an internship with a photographer. I was in what, my second year of college? It was in 2013, right?”

Alexa can’t help the excitement that sparks within her at the thought of Zoe starting to remember even the slightest bit of her past. “Yes, it was. We became pretty fast friends because we hit it off so well, god, we were inseparable for so long after that… C’mon babe, think a little harder. Is there anything else that’s significant you can think of that happened around that time?”

Zoe looks at her curiously for a moment before thinking deeper about what she’s just remembered, and slowly little pieces of memories fall into place in the puzzle that her memory has seemingly become. “We went everywhere together. Shoots, dinners, parties… you brought me to so many events and introduced me to so many people. It-.”

She comes to an abrupt stop as a distinctive memory of her being dressed fairly casually at a party at a god knows where drinking and smoking more than a few different things, fills her mind. There were a few people she knew at this party such as Alexa and the other man who was in the kitchen back at Harry’s, someone she remembers being called Nick — but there was also a couple of other people, celebrities, that she mingled with and had to try rather hard to keep her cool around such as the likes of Florence Welch and Kelly Osbourne. The entire night replays in Zoe’s brain a bit fuzzily due to how messed up she must’ve been as she thinks of who else was there, but then she remembers crossing paths with a certain curly haired celebrity dressed in orange and white striped shirt that covered the white t-shirt he wore beneath it. A curly haired celeb that was part of a rather popular boy band she’d seen on the television and heard on the radio many times before.

Alexa observes her friend and can basically see the gears turning in Zoe’s mind as she thinks back to this specific memory. She continues watching her for a moment before Zoe’s eyes suddenly widen and she looks to Alexa with complete and utter disbelief. “Zoe?”

“It was you,” she responds and shakes her head slightly, amazed that she was able to put this piece of her memory puzzle together. “It was through you at your birthday party that year, that I met Harry.”

A strong wave of relief washes over Alexa as she is unable to stop looking at Zoe with a stupidly wide smile, and isn’t able to do much else but nod in agreement before finally forming a sentence. “It is. Is there anything else you can remember after that?”

“No, not really.” Zoe tells her with a shrug. “I-I’m just more surprised I was even able to remember that... I’m sure Harry told you about what happened and all.”

“The accident? Yeah, he did. I didn’t want to believe it Zoe, but man is it hard seeing you not remember what has happened these last few years hun. They were so significant and special and-.”

“Consisted of my dad dying somewhere in between,” she cuts her off and a deafening silence forms between them. Zoe looks to the ground as she awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, before taking a breath and moving her gaze back up to meet that of the brunette who stands in front of her. “Alexa, can you tell me anything about what happened with dad? Why Harry thought he needed to keep it from me?”

With a soft sigh and a quick glance away from her friend, Alexa takes a second before nodding and looking back to Zoe again. “Yes, but not here. Let’s go get a coffee, ok?”

The two women make their way down the street to a nearby cafe so they can actually discuss these things, and Alexa makes sure to quickly send a text to Harry to let him know Zoe is alright; knowing full well that he’s probably having a bit of a freak out back at the house. After she and Zoe both get a drink, they sit down in a corner booth of the fairly unpopulated shop and indulge right into conversation. Alexa is sure to answer any questions Zoe has to the best of her ability and by the end of it all, she feels they may have actually gotten somewhere.

“So, it was cancer,” Zoe speaks up in a whisper, mainly just as confirmation to herself while she processes everything she’s just been told. “In the lungs. And he didn’t even tell me until it was too late, didn’t he?”

With a deep breath before leaning forward slightly to look at her friend considerately, Alexa takes a moment to think of her words before she says them. “Zoe, your father adored you. He was so damn proud of everything you’ve accomplished, I remember after he told you he was sick, you told me he held off letting you know because he was afraid of putting that burden on you. He was afraid it’d hold you back from what you were doing in life.”

“He had no right to do that,” Zoe responds with her voice noticeably shaky. She has to look away from Alexa to let out a quick breath while moving to wipe away some tears she feels have built up in her eyes again. “He- my dad is the only family I have for fucks sake; how could he not tell me something like that? I-I can’t believe I went so long without knowing. What kind of daughter am I? How the hell does one go months without realizing someone close to them is sick? I’m such a terrible person.”

“You cannot think of it that way, Zoe. It was something you had absolutely no control over and the last thing your father would want right now is for you to go through that grief again.”

“God, and that’s the most frustrating part isn’t it? Not being able to remember your own father’s death.” The two fall silent and the only noise to be heard is that of others in the coffee shop, as well as Zoe’s sniffles. She takes a moment to steady her breaths as she feels them becoming rather uneven, before shaking her head and continuing. “I don’t remember the details, but this feeling of being upset and overwhelmed — it’s familiar. I’ve felt this way before and I, I really don’t like it.”

“This is something no one should ever have to experience and I’m sorry that you’re having to go through it again, love. I wish there was more I could do to help but I really don’t know what that could be.”

“No, it’s alright. I appreciate everything you’ve told me Alexa,” Zoe states and looks to her friend with a small smile. “I-I really don’t know where to go from here though. Harry probably wants nothing to do with me at the moment and I actually have nowhere to go, now don’t I? Not that I necessarily want to go back there anyways.”

“I can assure you that is not the case at all,” Alexa reasons and reaches across the table to pat Zoe’s hand comfortingly. “Because I know for a fact that man is at home beating himself up so much right now. Why don’t we head back so you can talk to him? If you’re wanting to that is. I know you’re upset with him, but he cares about you so damn much Hun. It’s actually quite ridiculous how much and there’s no way he’d never intentionally hurt you over anything... especially something like this.”

“Then why did he lie?”

“Harry- he has a weird way of communicating sometimes. It’s not on purpose or anything, but when it comes to something or someone he cares about? That boy over-thinks every little detail out of the want to put everyone else and their happiness before himself. He truly has the biggest heart and I just know that whatever reasoning he has to keep this from you, it was because he didn’t want to see you go this for a second time. It was ultimately out of his care and love for you, Zoe. He really isn’t the bad guy in this situation and he most definitely does not deserve to be treated as such.”

It takes a second for Zoe to ponder her options, but she can’t even kid herself — she knows exactly what she wants to do in regards of when it comes to Harry. “He’s been so amazing with everything that has happened to the two of us, the least I could do is hear him out about this. I think I owe him at least that.”

“Exactly. M’really glad you see it that way babe, cause he’s probably losing his mind right now and you’re the only one that’ll be able to fix that.” Alexa tells her honestly and Zoe just nods back in understanding.

“Guess we should go back there now then, yeah?”

The two girls are quick in making the short walk back to the house and it has Zoe feeling rather nervous. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say to Harry. Obviously, she’s still upset with him for not telling her about her dad, but she is willing to hear what he has to say — what she’s more nervous about though, is telling him about the idea she thought up while talking to Alexa. Now who knows how well that’ll go over?

They make their way back up the steps and walk into the house to find Harry and Grimmy unsurprisingly still sat in the main entryway. Harry immediately stands from the stair he’s sitting on and steps down a few towards them, locking his gaze with Zoe and not allowing it to falter out of fear that she may just walk out of that door on him again.

He can tell she’s been crying, the way her eyes are still slightly puffy is a good indication of that and he despises the fact that he was the one to cause it. It throws him off that she decides to hold eye contact rather than look away, which has him mindlessly stepping down more of the stairs as the desperation to talk to her grows with each passing second. “Zo.”

“We’ve gotta get going,” Alexa speaks up and gestures for Nick to follow after her. It takes a second for the radio talk show host to register what she’s getting at, but he eventually does and moves from where he’s leaning against the staircase to stand beside her.

“Right uh, we’ve got that thing… yeah.” He mumbles and looks to Alexa for confirmation that he’s playing along well enough.

“Right. If the two of you, either of you, need anything at all — please let us know.”

Harry and Zoe both mumble a quick thank you and goodbye as their two friends quickly make their exit, which now leaves the two of them alone in complete silence yet again. He contemplates a few ways he can address the elephant in the room but much to his surprise, it’s Zoe who initiates the conversation.

“Harry, what you did,” she starts and takes a breath as she thinks of what it is exactly she wants to say to him. “Was so shitty. But I’m not standing here to ream you out about it, ok. What I really want to know is why you thought you needed to lie to me about such a thing?”

“Love, if I knew the proper answer to that question, believe me I’d tell you.” His response comes quick and he finds himself awkwardly shifting his foot from one foot to the other before deciding to continue. “To just spring something like that on you after I’ve already seen you go through the pain and grief of it once already? I couldn’t.”

“What did you expect to happen though H? I was bound to find out regardless of if I remembered or not.”

His eyes widen at her calling him by his first initial — something she hasn’t called him since before the car accident. “You jus’ called me H.”

“I, yeah I guess I did,” she replies and looks at him oddly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“M’sorry for changing the subject love, but… you never called me that until we were dating. I thought maybe you may be remembering something seeing as you were nervous to call me that cause you thought I wouldn’t like it.”

“Well, uhm when I was talking to Alexa, I was able to recall the night we met at her birthday.” Zoe explains and it takes everything in Harry to not burst with joy. “I don’t really know why I had the urge to call you that, it must just be a piece of my past I haven’t connected to everything else yet. But Harry, that’s beside the point. That doesn’t change the fact that you still lied to me about my dad.”

“I- you’re absolutely right and I apologize,” he tells her honestly and exhales before getting his train of thought back on track. “Zoe, when your dad passed away you closed yourself off. You pushed me, your friends, everyone away as a part of your grieving and no one blames you for that — but it was one of the hardest things any of us have ever had to witness when it came to you. To see someone we all love, someone who’s light never failed to brighten anyone’s day, go through such a tragedy and see how much it affected them in the worst way possible was no easy task. After the funeral you became the most depressed I’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t eat anything but the bare minimum, barely slept, and hardly left the bedroom unless you absolutely needed to… A part of you died along with your dad and you never fully recovered from that which is why you shut everyone out. It took quite a bit of time for you to realize that it was ok to be happy after he died, but you eventually did. To even consider the thought of putting you through such a thing again jus’ wasn’t an option to me. I know that wasn’t for me to decide, and please know how sorry I am for doing that — but also know that I am so selfish when it comes to you. You’ve never deserved anything less than the entire world and to see you not realize that is something I refuse to let happen ever again.”

Zoe is left completely speechless as his rant comes to an end and is simply unable to form a response. Her vision is becoming blurry by the water that is filling her eyes and can even feel a slight tremble in her bottom lip as she attempts to take a few calming breaths. She may not remember everything Harry has told her, but she’s just so overwhelmed by how much Harry truly does love her. A part of her mind is nagging her for not being able to return the same level of affection, but she ignores it as she allows her feet to take her across the small space that separates them; only stopping once her body is firmly pressed against his with her arms wrapped securely around his middle. “Thank you.”

“You have no need to thank me bub,” Harry states as he instinctively wraps his unslung arm around her, all while gently leaning his head on top of hers. He can feel the tears streaming from her eyes and onto the shirt he put on while she was gone each time, she blinks but couldn’t care any less for just having her this close is more than anything he could’ve hoped for from today. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. M’always going to want what’s best for you and do whatever I can in my power to make sure it happens. Please believe me when I say that.”

“I do,” she tells him honestly and slowly moves away from him so she can wipe away some of the tears. “And it’s clear I did something right over the last six years if it allowed me to have someone like you in my life Harry.”

He takes a moment to just observe her as she recollects herself. She may not still remember anything but whatever this was that just happened, he feels it was a step in the right direction and he’ll be damned if he lets that slip from his grasp. “I tell myself the same thing every day about you Zo. Now if there’s anything I can do to help with you now knowing about your dad, I need you to let me know. Can you promise me that?”

“Yeah.” She says and nods her head in agreement. It doesn’t take much for her to notice the sigh of relief that leaves Harry’s mouth and its then she decides that maybe she should bring up what she’s been considering since only moments after finding out about her dad’s death. “Actually Harry, there is one thing.”

“What is it, love?”

“I want to go home. My home,” she explains. “And if you’re willing, I’d like you to come with me.”

◆

It doesn’t take a whole lot to plan the trip for the two of them to fly back to Ontario, but it does take a bit of time; about a week and a half to be exact. Harry adamantly insisted that the two of them go back to the hospital so they can visit Dr. Lang and get her ok in regards of them travelling, which Zoe couldn’t help but think was a good idea as well.

During their visit, Dr. Lang was more than thrilled to hear about the little bit Zoe had remembered since being released from her care. She took it as a progressional step in a very good direction and thought that maybe this trip home could help trigger some more of Zoe’s memories, therefore, she thought this plan was a great idea and after a few calls to Anne, Gemma and Jeff; the two were eventually ready to part from London’s Heathrow in the early afternoon to embark on their eight hour journey across the Atlantic to Toronto’s Pearson airport.

The two of them spent the past week and a half really just getting to know each other, which has actually help Zoe out a lot. Although Harry already knew most of what Zoe would tell him about herself, he very much enjoyed watching her get excited over the things she was explaining. Whether it be about what made her want to move to London for school in the first place, or her just going off about her favourite songs and movies; Harry hung onto every word she said and was genuinely intrigued.

Zoe’s let herself open up to Harry and she’s very glad she has. Along with her talking about herself, she also made sure to ask him about the things his life consisted of too. It was then she learned about what happened to the infamous boy band One Direction she remembers from years ago, and how Harry started out on his solo career. She made sure to listen to the details he told about his first album, filming of the movie Dunkirk, his first solo tour, the bigger one that followed not long after and even about how he inducted Stevie freaking Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; even found out how Harry and his family lost someone very important to him over the last few years as well. It was his step-dad Robin and from what Harry said, he seemed like an incredible person.

What blew her mind the most about all of this though was how apparently, she was there with him for every single thing he’s mentioned. She doesn’t remember them, but she’s started feeling comfortable enough with Harry and knows that he will answer any questions she has in regards of anything he tells her. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Harry is lying to her about anything, and that makes for a relieved Harry because that isn’t something he plans on doing again. He’s being real with her, and she appreciates that more than he’ll ever know.

Their flight into Toronto is rather smooth, and once they arrive at the terminal, everything seems to continue going that way for them — even when they’re separated at customs seeing as Zoe has to go to a different section altogether with her being Canadian and all. Once they’re through the gates and have gathered their luggage, a security personnel escorts them to an awaiting vehicle to make sure that goes smoothly as well despite the few fans that noticed them as they made way through the airport.

The drive from Pearson to Zoe’s hometown takes close to two hours. She grew up in a small town north of Toronto that is located right along the Georgian Bay. It has always been one of her favourite places in the world, especially during the summer months because of how much beauty it holds. June tends to be a rather warm month in Southern Ontario, so unsurprisingly the drive there is full of sunshine and nice weather.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been here before,” Zoe’s voice speaks up from the passenger side of the vehicle about an hour and a half into their commute. She looks over at him with a large smile as she watches him carefully steer the car with both hands on the wheel. Just yesterday Harry was told he didn’t need to wear his are sling anymore, in which she helped gently remove for him, but he was still advised to go easy on his shoulder since it will still more than likely be stiff and sore for another week or so.

“Course I have. Have you not been to the Muskoka’s? Love it there.”

“Harry, where I’m from is considered part of the Muskoka’s yeh nut. Just a different part from where you’ve been.”

“Well I’ve been here too technically,” he explains as they pass a sign indicating they’ve reached the municipality of her hometown. “Only once, but it was with you.”

The remainder of their drive stays fairly silent up until Harry takes one final left turn and they start making way up a long rocky driveway. Zoe thought she was ready for this, but once they round a slight bend and her old home comes into view; that proves to be incorrect.

The house looks exactly like she remembers, simple and picturesque. An old porch swing that her and her dad used to sit on as he read her a story when she was younger sways in the breeze beside the other much updated patio furniture that is placed with it. The swing looks in much rougher shape now; but the memory of it being in its former glory will remain forever etched into her mind as she takes in the rest of her surroundings.

Her eyes roam a bit more as she takes in the rest of the wraparound porch that eventually disappears at the back of the house; leading to a part that overlooks the body water the edge of the property meets. It’s not visible right now but connected to the backside of the porch is a set of stairs that lead down to a small boat deck; something that allows one to be nice and close to the waters of the bay when they’re standing on it. She moves her gaze back to the front of the house again where a furry border collie runs around under the large maple tree that provides a good chunk of shade for the property on its own. The rickety looking tire swing her dad hung up when she was ten still hangs off one of the thick branches and makes her think of all the times she spent swinging, but mostly falling off of that thing while growing up.

Her feelings are a mixture of happy and sad once Harry puts the car in park, and as if on cue, a middle-aged woman comes out onto the porch to greet them. Zoe makes eye contact with the woman and doesn’t break it as she climbs out of the car before breaking into a full-on sprint so she can engulf her into a tight hug. “Aunt Jackie!”

“Oh my, Zoe! I can’t believe you’re actually here.” Zoe’s unable to respond as she squeezes the older woman and lets out a happy sob.

“I am. I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she responds and pulls away to send her another smile. A moment passes and soon enough, another set of footsteps can be heard and she doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Harry standing behind her. She turns around to motion him to come forward, and as soon as he does, he is also engulfed into a hug by Zoe’s aunt.

“Thank you for taking such good care of her. Especially during this,” Jackie mumbles quietly enough for only Harry to hear.

“Promised I always would, not going back on that now.” He replies before she pulls away and gives his arm a slight squeeze before looking back to Zoe and motioning for them to follow her to the house to get settled in.

When Zoe claimed she didn’t have any family besides her dad, she meant by blood. Her mother left shortly before she turned three and it’s only been her and her dad since — she doesn’t really remember much about her mom and has never really had the desire to. Jackie was her dad’s absolute best friend in the entire world and has been around for as long as Zoe can remember. Her father has one brother who’s lived on the western coast of Canada her entire life and has only actually met a handful of times. She doesn’t have any resentment against her biological uncle by any means, but they never had the chance to form a close bond because of the distance there always was between them. Mr. Clarke and Jackie were her rocks growing up. It’d only ever just been the three of them, it’s the only life Zoe had ever know so, when Zoe’s dad passed away and left everything to her; she signed the property ownership over to Jackie because she was the one person Zoe felt could actually be trusted with such a special place. She didn’t recall this happening per say, but when Harry explained it… it made total sense to her.

Jackie is completely aware of the accident that caused Zoe to lose her memory seeing as Harry was the one to call her just a few days after it all happened. It’s tough for her to see Zoe like this but wastes no time in making sure both her and Harry settle in after their long day of travel; wanting nothing more than to make sure they feel at home. They get settled in fairly quickly, and three of them have a very lowkey day just spending time in and around the house. By the time night comes, Harry and Zoe are more than ready to catch up on their sleep and no protests are made when they climb into the double bed that occupies the guest bedroom together, and let their exhaustion consume them.

The next day is a bit more eventful, but not necessarily in a good way. The three of them start the day off visiting Mr. Clarke’s grave, which hits Zoe quite hard. She’s unable to control the steady stream of tears that flows from her eyes as the three of them walk up to tombstone and has to stop a few times before she finally reaches it. No one says a word as she approaches the grave and places a single white rose on top of it. She stares down at the engraved writing, which is kind of hard to decipher with her blurred teary vision. After a few attempts at trying to read the dates, she finds it to be a bit too much to take in and has to step away. Immediately letting Harry pull her into his hold as she allows herself to break down completely and cry into his chest. He rubs her back soothingly and whispers words of reassurance for a few moments, refusing to move from his spot until he knows she’s calmed down a bit.

After that, no one is really feeling up for much. So, they spend the rest of the day roaming the nearby towns, to which Zoe points out various spots to Harry she remembers to be significant in her growing up here. It’s the most in depth she has ever really gone into about her life before meeting him, finding himself to be hanging onto every word she says as she explains each place with such excitement and fondness.

The remainder of the day drifts by and before anyone knows it, evening has come. Everyone’s made their way back to the lake house and spend the majority of the evening eating dinner and just preparing for another relaxing night in. Zoe stays to help Jackie with the dishes in the kitchen after they both kicked Harry out seeing as he insisted that he make dinner that night.

As the two of them clean up, he makes his way outside and down onto the boat dock to sit on the edge of it. He finds it to be rather peaceful just taking in the sereneness of his surroundings and lets out a sigh of contentment. The sun is on its way to completely disappear out of sight in the distance, the pink and purple colours that chase after it reflect in the still water and really make for a breathtaking setting. A loon can be heard calling in the distance, but everything else stays silent; something he doesn’t get to experience as much while he’s at home in bustling cities. Being here is a really nice break from all of that.

Zoe doesn’t really notice the sense of longing she feels as she watches Harry exit out the sliding glass doors leading to the back porch and is completely oblivious to the trance she’s fallen into as she stares at the spot he just occupied for a few moments after he’s gone before Jackie speaks up and snaps her out of it. “Are you sure the two of you have to leave so soon?”

“Oh, uhm yeah, unfortunately.” She answers and reaches for a dish towel hanging from the stove to dry her hands off with. “I need to go back to work, Jack. It’s going to be hard and I don’t really know what that’ll consist of, but I need to do it. So does Harry, he’s put so much on hold because of me.”

“I know, and I won’t keep you from doing that. But promise you won’t stay away for so long next time, ok?”

“I promise,” Zoe tells her mindlessly as she walks over to the glass doors and looks down at the dock to see Harry sitting on the edge of it, swaying his feet back and forth right above the water.

Jackie stays back for a second to observe her as she does this. It’s been made clear to her that Zoe does not remember the majority of the relationship she has with Harry, but from what she’s seen — she’s convinced there’s a possibility of that happening. Even with the situation they’re in, Harry has never once let it affect how much he cared for and loved Zoe, and although she doesn’t remember; it’s been clear to Jackie that Zoe has found those feelings too and has allowed herself to care for him just as much. “Zoe, why don’t you go down there and talk to him.”

“Oh, no. He looks so peaceful, I don’t want to bug him.”

“Think he’d much prefer if you were there with him if I’m being completely honest.” She assures before backing away slightly. “I’m going to go watch some TV, you know where to find me if you need me kid.”

Nothing else is said between the two before Jackie disappears into the other room, and Zoe’s left alone. She nibbles on her bottom lip slightly before making the decision that maybe she will go talk to him, and quietly slides open the class doors so she can make her way down there to do so.

The sound of Gord Downie’s voice can be heard from the windows of the house as it seems Jackie has started playing one of The Tragically Hip vinyl’s her and Zoe’s dad used to listen to all the time. A small smile dances across Zoe’s lips as the song changes and the familiar guitar riff of her favourite Hip song begins playing just as she reaches Harry.

“It really is beautiful here isn’t it?” She asks mainly to herself as she looks out over the water, but also is completely aware that it’ll catch Harry’s attention.

He immediately glances over his shoulder at her sudden presence and finds himself frozen as he looks up at her. The dull glow of the little remaining sunlight that still fills the sky provides this angelic radiance that illuminates around her as she continues stepping towards him. Behind her, the fairy lights that wrap around the railing of the porch above flicker on with the indication that night time is arriving, but with the way that and the music playing, it all just seemingly emphasizes her presence entirely. Even with her ripped jean shorts, oversized faded Rolling Stones t-shirt and messy bun, Harry’s convinced he’ll never see something as pretty as her ever again. “Absolutely stunning.”

“How come you’re down here all alone?” She questions awkwardly and comes to a stop, watching him as he stands from his position so he can approach her.

“Thought I’d enjoy the peacefulness a little bit more before were thrown back into reality the day after tomorrow,” he tells her, and she nods in understanding. She’s unsure of what else to say and decides to just look around at everything but him, letting the music create the perfect background noise as she does so. Harry can pick up on what she’s doing by avoiding his gaze and develops a slight fear that this little moment between them might end a lot faster than he wants it to. “Uh Zo, care to dance?”

His question catches her off guard a bit, but with being in her favourite place, while one of her favourite songs play with this amazing person, she’s come to know over the past two weeks; she can’t find it in herself to say no. “I’d love that.”

A small series of chuckles leaves both of their mouths as they attempt to get into position to start dancing and erupt into full on laughter as they fail miserably. No words are exchanged as they finally get a hold each other and sway along to the music together. Harry can’t keep his eyes off of her and pays no attention to where they’re stepping, because there’s honestly just nothing else he’d rather be focusing on. The same thing is happening to her while she looks up to his enticing green eyes and is simply unable to not get lost in them. They make a few more steps towards the edge of the dock and its then Harry feels the need to address the thoughts running through his mind. “Zoe?”

“Yeah?” Is all she’s able to say before she takes slight step too far backwards and miss the dock completely. A surprised yelp leaves her mouth as she tries to regain her balance, but there’s nothing for her to grab on other than Harry and his balance is no longer steady as well. It’s a lost cause when her grip on him tightens and she ends up pulling him towards her, resulting in the both of them toppling right off the deck and into the water below with a loud splash. The water surrounding the dock really isn’t that deep so when they both resurface around the same time and they immediately erupt into a fit of laughter. “Look what you made me do!”

“Me?” He asks defensively between his cackles. “You’re the one that stepped off the dock love.”

“Cause you distracted me,” she tells him with another giggle before splashing some water at his face.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” he responds before lunging at her, and tackling her back into the water.

They both resurface shortly after and are hit by another wave of laughter as a splash fight ensues between the two of them. Zoe’s splashes hit Harry fast and hard as he uses his arm as protection against the water that is constantly being aimed for his face. He blindly wades through the water towards her as she does this, and once he’s close enough to her, he quickly reaches out to snake his arm around her waist and pulls her against him; causing more laughs to erupt from her as he lifts her up slightly and spins around with her in his hold.

Once he sets her back down, she remains planted in her spot as she smiles widely up at him and he’s beaming right back. She reaches up to push some of his wet matted curls away from his face and just as she’s about to pull her hand away from him, he reaches up to hold her wrist so that she’ll stay in that place. A small gasp leaves her mouth as he does this and she’s quick in locking her gaze with his again. They remain silent and in that position for a moment before Harry slowly starts inching towards her and not stopping until his lips are connected to hers.

The kiss takes Zoe by surprise, but she’s quick in letting herself melt into his touch. She responds by tangling her hand into his curls and using the other to grip onto his t-shirt slightly as he pulls her even closer to him and deepens the kiss exceptionally. Their hands begin roaming each other feverishly, both craving the other in more ways that can be explained as Harry lifts her legs up so she can wrap them around his middle. Zoe is craving him more than anything right now as his hands move to the bottom of her t-shirt and he starts tugging it up over her head before tossing it back up onto the deck, something she has no issue in letting him do. Their clothing becomes less and less as they continue making out and Zoe knows exactly where this is going.

The feeling of him inside of her as they lay on the grassy part of the water’s edge is indescribable and filled with so much intensity and love. Once they’re both finished, he carefully pulls himself out of her burning core before rolling onto the ground beside her and finally makes an effort to catch his breath. They lay there in silence, the only sounds being their uneven breaths along with the noises of the frogs and crickets that are off minding their own business nearby. They’re both content laying there, staring up at the star filled sky without an absolute care in the world as Zoe slides her hand across the small space between them and links it with his.

This is the most peaceful she’s felt in the past two weeks and she has Harry to thank entirely for that. There’s no feeling of regret about what just happened as she lets her head fall to the right so she can face him and feels the butterflies swarm in her stomach as he smiles wildly at her. However, as they lay there and she watches him stare back at her with nothing but admiration — there’s this small nagging feeling she has about how maybe this shouldn’t have happened, and that thought alone scares the hell out of her.

#harry styles #harry #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #angst #harry styles smut #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #to fall in love again #1dff

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icequeenoriginal · 5 years

Text

New Super Sarcastic Bros.

Pairings: Logicality and Prinxiety

Note: Me? Still obsessed with @sugarglider9603‘s Mario Au? More likely than you think. This was so fun to write so I did get a bit carried away. I hope you still enjoy it

Trigger Warnings: Deceit, kidnapping, tied up and gagged, knocked out, unconscious, hurt/comfort, manipulation, slight panic attack, fighting, swearing (I’m trying to get better at tagging triggers)

“You saved me, Lo!”

“It’s what I do.”

“You did awesome Virgil!”

“T-Thanks Ro. Let’s get you home.”

Bowceit rolled his eyes as he sat under the rumble of his once grand castle. He waited for the plumbers and the princes to leave before he got up and wiped the dirt off of him. Another plan had failed. He had lost to Logan and Virgil yet again and had neither Patton nor Roman as his husband.

Bowceit walked around, picking up the unconscious danger noodles from their various spots in the debris. He instructed the magikoopas that were still alive (and trying to flee) to rebuild the castle. He flopped into his throne as he watched the walls rise up once again around him. His decorations and lava were put back into their proper place. Slowly, his children woke up and choose to wait outside their rooms for them to be rebuilt. Leaving their father to sulk in his chair.

Once the castle was completely rebuilt, Bowceit made his way over to the kitchen. Pulling his favorite mug down, he turned to see one of his faithful Koopas making him a big pot of coffee. It was his tradition that after he lost to the Sarcastic Bros., he would drown his sorrows in coffee. His daughter had banned him from eating ramen noodles out of the coffee cup anymore.

Bowceit sighed as he took a sip. He was so exhausted. Every week he’d kidnap one of the princes, only to be defeated by the pesky plumbers. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many different plans he came up with, nothing worked.

He silently contemplated giving up. He could continue being a single dad to his eight wonderful children. He could focus on running his kingdom instead of fighting. His stuff wouldn’t be broken as often as it was. Maybe, just maybe, he should stop.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the castle’s door. Finding that odd, Bowceit walked over. Upon opening it, he was greeted by a young woman. She was wearing a red dress and a red hat. Her eyes and hair were chocolate brown.

Bowceit would have found her beautiful if he wasn’t gay.

She smiled at him sweetly. “Hello there!”

“Hello” he replied deadpanned. He had noticed that in one of her hands was a red suitcase. He figured she was there to sell him something. He hoped the danger noodles would stay in their rooms or he’d lose a lot of coins fast.

“I hope I’m not bothering you but I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the Mushroom Kingdom.”

Bowceit raised an eyebrow and raised the coffee to his mouth. “The Mushroom Kingdom? What business do you have there? Visiting the prince?”

The woman smile fondly “Oh nothing like that. I’m visiting two friends of mine. I doubt you know them.”

“Try me. I have a lot of...business...in the Mushroom Kingdom.” Bowceit took a sip of his coffee.

“Their names are Logan and Virgil” Bowceit immediately spat out his coffee and had a coughing fit.

The woman jumped and patted his back “Are you alright?!” She patted his back in an attempt to help him.

Suddenly, Bowceit straightened up “Yes, yes, I’m alright. What-What did you say your name was?”

“Oh, my name is Valerie. Do you know Logan and Virgil?”

Bowceit suddenly smiled and his confident demeanor returned. He straightens up and even fixed his leather jacket with his free hand. “I do. They’ve…done some work for me. How do you know them?”

The woman now known as Valerie replied “Oh we go way back! We’re longtime friends. Plus they…Oh, you probably don’t want to hear me ramble.”

“No please, I need to draw up a map anyway for you. Come in, come in.” Valerie was impressed by this man’s kindness and followed him into the castle.

“Would you like something to drink or eat as we talk?”

Valerie shook her head, wanting this visit to be short. She told Bowceit the basics, figuring the boys wouldn’t want a random stranger to know. This was more than enough for the villain. He concluded that the brothers have enough history with this woman to care about her wellbeing. Care enough that they would definitely come and try to rescue her.

Valerie tugged on his arm to pull him back into reality. “So, may I have that map now?”

“Map? Oh yes, the map! Excuse me for a moment!” Bowceit walked off and rubbed his hands together maniacally. Oh, how perfect this was! This was a sign that he mustn’t stop being a villain. He is one level pull away from trapping this woman. She will make perfect bait for the Sarcastic Bros while he can marry any prince of his choosing.

Bowceit suddenly stopped walking. A thought crossed his mind.

The princes.

The same princes who make no secret of how jealous they can get. Roman was more outward and Patton was inward but it was still apparent.

The princes who have never met this woman.

The princes who he wants to punish for helping to ruin his plans.

Bowceit smirked and quickly drew up a map. He walked over to her, forming his new plan with every step. “Here you are, my dear.”

Valerie popped up happily and took the map. “Oh thank you! It was nice meeting you.” Bowceit waved as she left.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Prince Patton groaned as he rubbed his face. This was the worst week of the year. It was nothing but non-stop work and meetings. Usually, he would go as slowly as he could so he wouldn’t fry his brain. But now that he had Logan, Patton wanted to get it out of the way as soon as he possibly could. That didn’t make it easier.

Logan was a god’s sent for the past few days. He constantly checked on Patton, gives him neck and back messages and makes sure he sleeps and eats. Patton was currently distracted by Logan making him tea, so much so that he nearly fell out of his throne.

Logan walked in, carefully holding a teacup. “Here you go dear, take a quick break. I’ll look over some of those papers.”

Patton stood up and took the drink gratefully. He was clearly exhausted. “Thank you, love. You’re amazing.” Patton took a sip and felt the peace run down his throat to calm him down. Logan sat on the throne and began looking over the plans Patton had for building stronger houses for the Thomases and Talyns in the event of a Bowceit attack.

Patton smirked and sat innocently on Logan’s lap. Logan didn’t look up from his work, only wrapping his free arm around Patton. Patton leaned into the embrace and began to gently kiss Logan’s ear, cheek, and neck. Logan’s face progressively got redder by the minute and his focus figuratively jumped out the window. He turned his head slowly to captured Patton’s traveling lips.

They were interrupted by a sudden squeal. They both turned to see a very delighted Valerie. “Omg, Logan!”

Logan was shocked to see his old friend but no less happy to see her “Valerie!” He quickly picked up Patton and put the prince in his throne before running off to hug her.

“It’s been so long!”

“My, have you’ve grown!”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

Patton felt his heart shatter as he witnessed the exchange. Who was this beautiful woman hugging his boyfriend? Logan has certainly never mentioned her before. Was she his ex…? No…Logan told him he never dated anyone before. He wouldn’t lie...right…?

Patton took a deep breath and walked over with the most genuine smile he could. “Hello there.”

Valerie curtsied “Hello your majesty.”

“Please, call me Patton.” She talks his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “And you are?”

The woman smiled “My name is Valerie.”

Logan patted her shoulder and spoke proudly “She is a dear friend of mine. We go way back!”

“Dear friend? Honey, I’m your best friend! Virgil’s too!”

Patton’s heart began to break as he watched the exchange between the two. They were so close, in a whole different world. A world Patton wasn’t allowed in.

Valerie tugged on Logan’s arm “Come on! You must show me around.”

Logan didn’t hesitate “Of course!” They ran out of the castle, leaving the prince with nothing but his work and a slowly growing pain in his chest.

Virgil sat bored outside Roman’s meeting hall. He started hitting his legs to create a beat. He figured he could start writing a new song. One for Roman so he wouldn’t stab himself out of frustration. He felt so sorry for his boyfriend. Virgil could barely handle the small amount of paper required for when he was a plumber, he could never imagine what mountains Roman has to climb as a leader of a kingdom.

A Talyn ran up to his with a newly acquired cell phone. The plumbers had them installed mainly so that the princes could communicate easily or if the plumbers needed the other’s help.

“It’s your brother.” Virgil nodded and took the phone, a silent thank you.

“Hell? Hey Lo, what’s up? Seriously? No way! I’ll be right there!” Virgil put the phone down and went to knock on the door that separates him and Roman. He shook his head, he couldn’t possibly bother Roman while he was doing serious business. He didn’t want to get in the way. Smiling to himself, Virgil took off. He figured Roman wouldn’t mind.

An hour later, Roman exited the room, feeling accomplished. He got a good amount of work taken care of which met he could spend time with Virgil. As Roman began to fantasize about what they could do, he saw that the chair that Virgil was occupying was empty. He had to ask several different Talyns and Thomases before finding the one who gave Virgil the phone.

“His brother called, your majesty, and then he took off.”

“Thank you.” Roman went to his room and scooped up all the documents he could and placed them in a bag. He figured Patton had been kidnapped again and Logan called Virgil for his help. He hopped into his carriage and hoped the Mushroom Kingdom was alright. Upon seeing everything too peaceful in the kingdom though, Roman began to wonder if there was another reason Virgil left.

As Roman walked into the castle, he barely dodged the flying bowl thrown his way. A few Talyns and Thomases were worried as they clean up after their angry prince. They practically pushed him into the kitchen, begging him to calm Patton down.

Roman could almost laugh at what he was seeing. Patton and his kitchen were covered in flour and dough as Patton angrily stirred in his bowl, sending the ingredients all around the room. Roman grabbed a cookie before stealing the bowl from Patton with a smirk.

“Yo Pat! What did the bowl do to you?” Roman’s smirk dropped when he saw Patton look down at ground instead of reply. Roman gently lifted his chin and saw that tears were forming in his eyes “What’s wrong?”

Patton tried to blink away his tears. “A woman…”

“A woman?”

Patton nodded “A woman came by…she said she’s Logan’s best friend…he never told me about her.”

Roman was shocked, Logan was so open with Patton, and a sinking feeling developed in his stomach “Best friend?” “Yeah, Virgil’s too…”

“WHAT?!”

Patton pointed to the window and revealed to Roman the woman hugging Virgil.

Who the hell does she think she is, hugging his man?! Roman balled up his fists and was ready to march right over there and deck her if Patton hadn’t physically restrained him. Roman didn’t fight it, opting to give Patton a hug. He rubbed circles into Patton back and Patton let himself cry.

Roman gave him a soft smile “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Roman grabbed a rag and began to wipe the food and tears off of Patton’s face. This allowed Patton to catch his breath and let more tears fall.

Roman got to Patton’s arms when they noticed their boyfriends and that woman were headed towards the entrance of the castle. Patton abruptly turned and began to wipe his eyes roughly to stop himself from crying. He grabbed the closest sponge and tossed it to Roman. “Start cleaning, please.”

Roman nodded and started wiping the wall. He imagined himself running at Virgil and tackling him to the ground. Not to attack him, just to aggressively make out with him to show the woman needed to back off. He never got the chance though, Logan called out for Patton and Patton shouted back that he was in the kitchen.

Logan and Virgil walked in with big grins on their faces as their boyfriend scrubbed away their sorrows.

“Hey honey, I’m back!”

“Ro! I didn’t know you were here!” Roman nearly threw the sponge at his head. He really wanted to yell at Virgil for leaving without telling him but Roman also wanted to yell at Logan for making Patton cry.

Logan gave Patton a side hug, oblivious to the pained expression of the prince’s face. “Since we’re all here, how about the five of us talk over tea?”

Roman turned his head to him bewildered as Patton hide his expression behind his bangs. “Five?”

Virgil gently took Roman’s arms “Yeah! We want to introduce you guys to Valerie!”

Roman looked at Virgil and his heart ached. Virgil looked so excited to introduce him, how could he say no to that?

Both Princes nodded their heads. Patton even told them to take Valerie to the common room so the princes could make the tea. That allowed the princes to regain their composure, however fake, especially after the punch to the gut of their boyfriends running off too quickly for their tastes.

Roman gripped the sink as Patton started up the kettle “We’re going to join them, aren’t we?”

Patton sucked in his breath “Yup.”

“Wonderful.”

Patton’s teacup was shaking in his hands “S-So, h-how did you guys met?” Patton took a sip to calm himself down. Tea always helped.

If anyone noticed that the prince was acting strangely, no one voiced it. Virgil decided to start the tale “Lo and I used to live in New Donk City, where Valerie is from.”

“Thanks for telling me about that.” Roman thought bitterly.

Logan continued “But we didn’t know each other. The day we really met was when we rescued Valerie from this crazy monkey who climbed up the tallest building in the city, the one we happened to be working in.”

Patton felt like he was going to throw up “I thought I was your first rescue…”

“It was nothing Valerie,” Logan replied

“Nothing?! Without you two, my city wouldn’t have its mayor.”

Both Roman nearly choked on his tea while Patton’s cookie missed his mouth. Patton gently put the cookie down and whipped his face before answering “Y-You’re the mayor?”

“Oh yes! I forgot to mention that.” The princes sighed. Great, she was basically like them. There was nothing to top it.

Roman wasn’t going to give in that easily “So what happened next? Did you two date or something?” He gestured between Logan and Valerie, not wanting to even think that Virgil was a possibility. The three city folk erupted in laughter. Valerie regained her composer first. “No, no! One of them would have to be attracted to women for me to date them. No, we’re just great friends.” Valerie smiled and leaned over the table, taking a hand from each of the princes. “I’m so happy my boys found such great guys like you.”

Once she let go, the princes exchanged a look that screamed: “She’s a keeper.”

And yet, that didn’t make it hurt less. The princes had never seen their boyfriends smile like this. They seemed so happy spending time with her. They weren’t bogged down with the responsibility of protecting her, they could be normal adults with her. They looked so relaxed, a calmness neither prince could ever remember providing.

It didn’t help that the princes weren’t being included in the conversations.

Roman gave up right away, watching the tea leaf float in his teacup. He couldn’t look at Virgil. He couldn’t watch someone else light up his eyes. He couldn’t accept the fact that someone else made Virgil happy before Roman ever met him and continues to. Roman felt so unneeded, he just wanted to lock himself in his castle so that he didn’t have to face the fact Virgil loved someone else.

Patton tried to jump into the conversations, but it involved inside jokes and memories Patton would never know about. Patton’s eyes fell on Logan. Logan…who is forced to save Patton every week while he only had to save Valerie once. Was that why Logan ran off so eagerly? To have a taste of life without having to put up with him? Patton’s heart shattered. Maybe Logan secretly hated him and was only still with Patton because he was a prince.

Valerie sudden straighten up with a look of realization on her face, snapping the princes’ out of their depressing thoughts. “I almost forgot! I wanted to visit the cafe Talent! .I’ve been told it’s a must do when you visit here”

Roman interjected before either plumber could speak, “O-Oh, you could go to that, or y-you could come and watch the tennis game Pat and I were about to put on!”

Both Virgil’s and Logan’s faces became red fast. A tennis game meant their boyfriends were going to wear their sports outfits. The brothers were not ready for that. They each grabbed Valerie’s arms and lifted her up at out of her chair. “We’ll see you guys after the game!” They ran off quickly, telling Valerie stories of their adventures to block out their fantasies.

“O-Oh okay…” Patton tried to stay positive as he watched them leave. “You kiddos enjoy yourselves while we have fun…playing tennis…right Roman?” He got no reply. He turned to see Roman walking off. “Roman?”

Roman walked over to the lake, eyes closed and hands folded. Once he made it to the edge, he abruptly opened his eyes and blurted out a huge scream of pure anger. The scream was so powerful that his people all the way in Sarasaland could hear him. Thankfully, (or unfortunately, if you are Roman) Virgil was walking in the other direction and lost in the conversation so he was unable to hear Roman.

Thomas and Talyn hide fearfully behind their equally terrified prince. Roman walked back over to Patton and smiled “Shall we?”

Patton just nodded his head and followed Roman back into his castle to get changed. In the distance, Bowceit was happily enjoying the spectacle. He threw his head back, almost choking from the laughter. He quickly realized he had finished his popcorn.

“Well, time to get this party started.”

~ They never made it to the tennis courts.

Once they arrived in Patton’s room the change, the princes flopped onto Patton’s bed. They are on different sides of the bed, heads meeting in the middle. Roman gently taps his feet against the headboard before kicking it in anger. He kicked it so hard that he moved so that their shoulders were next to each other.

“Who does she think she is?! Being all perfect and taking all their attention?! She’s hasn’t been around them like we are!” As Roman continued to rant, he waved his arms to strengthen his point. Patton listens intently to avoid giving attention to the aching feeling in his chest.

“And how can Virgil be so comfortable around her! He’s barely comfortable around me and we’re dating! Not to mention living together!” Roman covered his face with his hands “And I can’t even banish her since Virgil likes her so much.” Patton chuckled as Roman turned his head to him “We could kill her.”

Patton hit his arm playfully “Roman Marigold of Sarasaland! What would your mother say?”

“She would say” Roman straighten up and make his voice sound snooty “Roman, as a prince, you must be a host and you must be kind to all. We do not wish ill will onto someone.” His voice changed back to normal “And then she’d tell me to sit up straight or something.”

Patton laughed, that made him feel better. It’s been a while since the two of them were able to have a happy moment like this. They were children again, with no fear of Bowceit and no jealousy plaguing them.

Roman sighed “I can’t blame her though. It’s all me. I’m insecure about our relationship and I’m so afraid of losing him that I act like this but it’ll only result in me pushing him away.”

Patton did a double taken. “Woah, where did that come from?”

“...I’ve been hanging out with Picani too much.”

Patton smiled and gently bumped their heads together “Don’t worry about it, it’s not just you.”

“You?! But you and Logan are perfect together!”

Patton looked away “Perfect? I never heard of a perfect relationship that involves needing weekly rescues?” Patton shook his head and curled up into a ball “I’m so scared he’s going to become sick of rescuing me and he’ll just leave and I’ll be forced to marry Bowceit--”

“Hey, hey.” Roman caught his attention “That’s never going to happen. Sarcastic bros or not, you’re never going to have to be forced to marry that snake. I’ll make sure of it.”

Patton smiled “Thanks, Ro. You’re the best.”

Roman shrugged “It’s what I do.”

They laid there a little while longer, finishing off the cookies made by a stressed Patton. They continued to gossip and complain, just to past the time. Eventually, Patton tapped Roman and said: “Come on, we have work to do.”

Roman whined “No! I don’t want to!”

Patton pulled on his arm “We have to. We both have a bunch of individual work, plus we have to re-establish our alliance.”

Roman sat up. “Fineee. Hey Pat? Are we still each other’s best friend?”

Patton let out an offended noise “Of course we are! Why would you even need to ask?”

Roman dodged the question by continuing with: “So, because we are best friends, we would want our kingdoms to be allies?”

“Yes.”

Roman clapped his hands together “Great! Meeting’s over, let’s go back to complaining about our boyfriends.” Roman flopped back onto the bed.

Patton pulled him off the bed “Get up Roman, I know you don’t want to do this but we have to.”

Roman laid on the floor in protest “No, what I have to be doing is cuddling with Virgil in my bed with the door lock, keeping all my problems outside.”

Patton dropped the papers on him “Up, now.”

Roman sighed and gave in. They both sat on Patton’s bed as they read through the different files. Both of them let out a groan once they got through one packet in half an hour.

Roman looked up at the window and shouted “Hey Bowceit! If you’re planning on kidnapping me, now would be a great time!” Both princes began to laugh until they heard the sudden sound of running feet.

Patton suddenly became terrified “Could it be?!”

Roman shook his head but moved so that he was between Patton and the door “No way. He’s not that stupid to a) stalk us and b) actually listen to anything I say.” Still, Roman had a bad feeling and he reached down for his sword.”

The door bursts open, revealing an out of breath Logan and Virgil with a slightly frustrated Talyn. For a second, Roman wonder if they heard him and he was about to get yelled at.

Talyn pointed at the princes “See? I told you they were fine.” That didn’t seem to be enough for the plumber. They practically threw themselves at their boyfriends. Patton melted into the touch as if he had never been held before even though he was in Logan's arms hours before. He needed this so badly.

Roman was just very confused. He still returned the hug though.

Logan kissed Patton’s head before speaking “Thank god you’re alright.”

Despite all that, Patton was the first one to pull away. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Logan looked down, ashamed “We were taking Valerie to the cafe…”

Patton grabbed his hands so he would continue

“And then Bowceit showed up in his gigantic ship and attacked the town. We fought him off but once the smoke cleared, Valerie was gone. We looked everywhere.”

Patton frowned and Roman shook his head, that villain would never give up.

Virgil continued “We were going to go straight to Bowceit’s castle but we stopped to check on you guys.”

The princes' heads snapped towards him as Logan nodded: “Yes, and when we saw that you guys weren’t at the tennis courts, we feared the worse.”

The princes exchanged a look. Did he say what I think he said?

Valerie woke up with a headache and with no idea where she was. She looked around the dark room and saw nothing. Her arms were tied to the arms of a chair and her legs were tied to the legs of the chair. She swore she could see a shadow watching her but when she called out, no one replied. She pulled on the restraints but it was no use.

Suddenly, the shadow moved into the light and she saw the man with the strange face from before. She needed answers now. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

Bowceit smiled “Pardon my rudeness my dear but I did tell you a bit of a lie. Several actually. I felt bad so I brought you here. Let me start over. My name is King Bowceit.”

Valerie tilted her head “King Bowceit? Wait a minute, I know who you are! You’re always kidnapping princes!”

Bowceit scoffed “That’s what everyone one says now thanks to those two jerks you call friends. What really happened was I was supposed to marry one of the princes but those pesky plumbers got in the way. That forced me to use…different methods.”

“So kidnapping princes.”

“You say kidnapping, I say proposing.” “You’re insane!”

“Thank you.” Bowceit walked back into the darkness and flipped on the lights “But really, that’s beside the point, I brought you here to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Valerie was flabbergasted.

Bowceit smirked, “Yes, because, by the time those idiots are done saving you, I’ll be a married man.”

Logan turned to Virgil “We should get going.” He looked back at Roman and Patton “you two stay here.”

Virgil nodded “We should get some of the power-ups we have stored here, to make the trip faster.” The twins ran out of the room and to their makeshift armory. Roman got up from his spot on the bed. Roman stood up and his eyebrows pressed together.

“We were an afterthought.”

“Roman…” Patton didn’t want the fighting to continue. Even if he felt the same way as Roman. He gripped his chest, his way of trying to physically stop his heart from breaking.

“We were an afterthought Patton, they were just going to leave. And you know it too. I can tell by the way your holding your chest.” Patton didn’t reply, Roman knew him too well.

Roman groaned “These are our heroes, why can’t someone else save her…?”. Patton looked at the door before verbally agreeing with Roman. He didn’t want Logan to know he felt this way, not yet anyway.

Unbeknownst to Patton; Logan and Virgil had already returned and heard what was said. Logan sighed “They’re angry with us, but we really must go. We should fix this now.”

Virgil nodded “Right and we have to do this delicately.” Virgil walked up to the princes “You know, Valerie was our first rescue, so she kinda deserves it more than you guys.”

Patton once again had to physically restrain Roman.

“Excellent job Virgil,” Logan stated sarcastically.

“Oh like you could do better”

“I can, and will.” Logan went to cup Patton’s face but Patton moved away from the touch, he did not like being spied on.

“Why does it always have to be you? Why can’t you let anyone else do it?” Patton’s voice dripped with venom. He wasn’t angry at Valerie nor was he angry at Logan, he just had so much pent up emotions that were fighting to escape him.

Logan pulled back. The only other time Patton was ever this hostile was when he was possessed by the Shadow Queen. That’s a time Logan never wanted to revisit. He turned around, his eyes dark “Let’s go, Virgil. We’re wasting time.”

“We’re coming with you.”

Bowceit walked out of the room, satisfied with himself when he ran into the danger noodles. “Kids? Is something wrong?”

“Is she going to be our new mother?” Roy asked curiously, the other danger noodles nodded to indicate that’s what they all wanted to ask.

Bowceit smiled sympathetically “Sorry kiddos but no, she’s only the bait.”

Wendy perked up “What, you’re doing something different!”

Bowceit pressed his lips together for a moment “Okay, first, rude. And second, I guess so?”

Wendy started to bounce happily “Can we have a new castle?”

Bowceit was taken back “A new castle? Why do you want a new castle?”

Larry nodded “You’re doing something different, therefore we should have a new castle or at least a new theme.”

“This castle’s look is a bit boring anyway,” Iggy commented

“...I clearly spoil you, children, too much. BUT! You have caught my attention. Did you have any ideas in mind?”

“CASINO CASTLE!” They all scream in unison.

“Casino castle?” Bowceit smiled “I like it. MAGIKOOPAS! COME HERE NOW!”

Logan swirled around, clearly frustrated “What did you say?”

Roman’s arms were crossed by his chest was puffed out “I said, we’re coming with you. Patton and I.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose “And why do you want to come?”

“As the prince of a country, I don’t have to answer that.” Roman step forward and got in Logan’s face. As much as he could since Logan was the tallest.

Logan glared down at him, frustration taking over. There was so tension in the room that Patton found himself holding his breath. “No,” Logan uttered simply.

Patton winced, Logan sounded so angry. Roman would not back down, he grabbed Patton’s hand and walked out of the room.

Roman and Patton gave off one emotion each as they walked to Roman’s carriage. Anger and Sadness. Hot and Cold. Two opposites, yet they gave off the same amount of energy. An energy that terrified the people to not even blink at them. Though the Talyn who drove Roman’s carriage had to force themselves to ask where the princes want to go, not questioning why they both said ‘Bowceit’s castle’ simultaneously.

It petrified all. All except the plumber who could control it.

The plumbers jumped into the carriage directly after the princes. The couples sat separately from one another. Roman stared out the window, arms and legs crossed. Virgil, who was sitting across from him, looked down. He wanted to look into Roman’s soft eyes. He didn’t mean to snap. Patton looked directly at Logan, longing for forgiveness that wasn’t needed. Logan’s eyes were shut, he was hoping when he opened them, he would be in bed and the day would reset so he could make up for his mistakes.

Patton and Virgil locked eyes and silently agreed to end this fighting. Patton figured the best approach would be to switch spots. Not because he was planning to throw himself onto Logan, don’t be preposterous. Patton pointed at himself with one hand and Virgil with the other then switch them, hoping that it would convey his thought process. He got a confused look in return. Patton looked around before gesturing to Roman then Virgil. Virgil made an “oh!” face and nodded. Patton sighed of relief, Virgil knew exactly what Patton meant--

“Hey Ro!” Patton facepalmed, Virgil understood nothing.

Roman said nothing, he didn’t even turn. The only motion he made was to lift up his umbrella and pull down a curtain that cut the carriage in half with the handle. Mission failed.

Virgil sighed “Lo, my boyfriend’s mad at me and I don’t know what to do.” Virgil didn’t care who heard him, he just missed Roman. He looked at the unmoving curtain. If the princes were listening, there was no indication. Roman was but he was still staring out the window. He was lost in anger.

Logan shook his head “Roman is acting irrationally and is an overall stubborn person. This will eventually pass and everything will be fine.”

Both Patton and Virgil waited for Roman to stab Logan through. He didn’t. The curtain stayed still. Patton didn’t even have to hold him back. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, the prince was quiet. The prince was quiet. That wasn’t a good sign.

Virgil began to panic “Great, just great. Roman is now never going to forgive me, I’m going to be banished from his kingdom and lose the best thing that has ever happened to me!” Logan rubbed his back and instructed Virgil to breathe. He didn’t notice though. He was focused on a certain sound. A familiar sound. A pleasant sound. It was faint, nearly a whisper. It was Roman’s singing. Roman sang to help Virgil calm down from a panic attack. Virgil was sure he was just imagining it.

He had no time to find out because the carriage suddenly stopped and sent the princes flying forward.

The sudden weight caused the curtain to rip off the ceiling of the carriage, involuntary catching the princes. Roman immediately sat up and fixed his hair. He then turned to check on Patton. “You good Pat?”

Patton nodded and tried catching his breath “Yes, I landed on something.” Patton patted the ground and his eyes suddenly widen when he felt it was uneven. He jumped back, he knew what he landed on. Logan got up from under the curtain and rubbed his head. He looked over Patton for any injuries but when he came upon Patton’s eyes. They were filled with fear and staring back at them. Was Patton afraid of him? He pulled the hand he had reached out to touch Patton back and looked away. He didn’t want to frighten him more.

Patton’s heart shattered. He made Logan upset. Logan thought he was being irrational in his jealousy, he had only said Roman’s name but Patton knew Logan was talking about him too. He was so scared that he would make Logan hate him. Now he didn’t even want to touch Patton. Patton was crushed.

Roman pulled Virgil up and even fixed his hat. Virgil smiled softly but Roman looked away. He was still angry, he wasn’t going to be the one to apologize again. Roman let out a “Hmph!” and made his way to the door.

Logan grabbed his arm and pulled him towards Patton “Stay. Here.” Logan grabbed Virgil and left before Roman could protest. The now damaged carriage was surrounded by Bowceit’s minions. The twins saw this as an opportunity to get their anger out. The enemies were dealt with very quickly, to say the least.

Roman glared at the shut door, he wasn’t planning on sitting around. He grabbed his umbrella and Patton’s hand and they walked out. He didn’t even have to drag Patton this time. Patton wanted to prove to Logan that he was worthy and to win his love back.

They spoke to the Talyn and informed them to keep the carriage there. The princes instructed Talyn that they should call some other Talyns to help fix the carriage but do not wait for the princes. They were going to finish the journey on foot.

The Sarcastic Bros actually didn’t notice the princes were following them until Roman jumped over Logan to get the flag at the end of the world. For Roman and Virgil, it became a race. A race for Virgil to close the distance between them and Roman to lengthen it. Roman wasn’t ready to talk yet. For Logan and Patton, it was like a game of ‘Hide and Seek’, where Patton did the hiding and Logan did the seeking. Patton wasn’t necessarily trying to hide from Logan, it was just that Patton wanted to show off his strength without any help

Despite all that, they actually made very good progress on getting to Bowceit. It was shocking how well they worked together, even when they were this emotional.

A Hammer Bro. sheepishly walked over to Bowceit. Bowceit was being fitted for a silver glitter suit with matching silver top hat. He looked happy. Crap.

“M-Master!”

Bowciet turn to it. “Yes? What is it?”

“Patton…was not in his castle…”

“What?!” The hammer bro jumped back, brought its hands up as if it was praying.

“W-We check the entire castle. We even attacked the kingdom, but he wasn’t there.”

Bowceit rubbed his temples “So why would you come here instead of going to get Prince Roman?”

The Hammer Bro. bite its lip “W-We did, also nothing.”

Bowceit clenched his teeth. Those plumbers weren’t smart enough to hide the princes, were they? “Find them. Now. I have a wedding chapel and no prince to get married in it!” The Hammer Bro ran off as Bowceit Jr. slithered in.

“Dad! Dad! You’ll never guess what I saw when I was in Ice Zone!” The danger noodle was practically dancing as he spoke.

Bowceit smiled and rubbed his son’s head “What did you see?”

“Mr. Roman and Patton were there! They were fighting and everything!”

Bowceit raised his eyebrows. This certainly was a different day. He sent Bowceit Jr. to join his siblings in the playroom. Bowceit pondered on what to do. If the princes were fighting, then they weren’t as affected by jealousy as Bowceit previously thought. Or maybe they were.

He wanted to find out.

Patton was exhausted. He was drained physically and especially emotionally. He wouldn’t stop, Logan was too important to him. Logan took notice of the prince’s slumped shoulder and yawns and forced the group to stop. “We should make camp.”

Everyone looked at him, bewilder. “Camp? Since when do we make camp?” Virgil asked

“Since we have two monarchs with us.” Patton looked down and hugged himself. Logan was frowning. Logan had his back turned to Patton. Logan was angry at him. Patton walked off and sat on a rock. Only Roman seemed to notice.

Logan used the mostly intact curtain and an array of sticks to craft a makeshift tent. “It can fit about two people maybe. Roman, Patton, you two take the tent. Virgil and I will be fine out here.” Logan was facing the tent, hands on his hips. Oblivious to the situation unfolding.

Roman stormed up to him, stared straight into Logan’s eyes and threw his sword into the tent. “Congratulations, you are now one of the only two people to ever make Patton cry. You should be so proud.” Roman walked off but in the opposite direction of Patton.

Logan's stomach flipped as he slowly turned to face Patton’s spot. To his horror, Patton was curled up into a ball, shaking. Logan couldn’t hear him but he knew Patton was crying. Logan slowly walked over and wrapped his arms around Patton. Patton’s head shot up but he otherwise didn’t move. Logan buried his head into Patton’s shoulder and pulled the prince close. Patton action turned Patton into butter.

“I’m so sorry for upsetting you, my love. The thought of you crying makes my mind go dark but to be the cause of it, there’s no greater crime. Getting your cold shoulder worse than frostbite. Your scorn is worse than the heat of any star. To earn your wrath, I must have done some heinous. I don’t know what I did to make you angry but I apologize for it. I hope you will forgive me.” Logan said softly, muffled by the prince’s garment. That didn’t make them any less perfect. It was exactly what Patton needed to hear. He only had one question.

“Oh, Lo…who said I was mad at you? I thought you were mad at me!” Patton exclaimed

Logan picked his head up, looking into Patton’s eyes to see if he’s joking “Darling, why on Earth would I ever be mad at you?”

Patton looked down, fixating his gaze on Logan’s lips. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me here or around, generally…”

Logan frowned “Patton, the day I don’t want you around is the day I’m dying so I won’t see you mourn.”

Patton bit his lip doubtfully “It didn’t seem like it, especially after Valerie arrived. You looked so happy spending time with her and you never asked me to come, so what was I supposed to think? You never told me she even existed!”

Logan cupped Patton’s face. “Patton-cake, were you jealous?” Patton nodded and moved closer to Logan. Logan smiled softly. “Oh my love, I’m sorry you felt that way. You have nothing to fear though, my love for you is unending. I apologize for not asking you to come, I didn’t want to distract you from your work.” The kiss they shared was as magical as their first one.

Once they pulled away, Patton yawned. Logan kissed his head and smiled “Get some rest love, you need it.”

Patton nodded and kissed Logan’s cheek. He walked into the tent as Logan used the spot Patton was occupying to sketch the stars. Patton climbed into the tent carefully to avoid knocking over what Logan had made for him.

He noticed that on top of Roman’s sword, there was a small ball shaped object on it. Knowing how much Roman cared about his sword, Patton flicked it away. Suddenly it started to let out a gas that was trapped inside it. Patton felt his eyelids become heavy and he passed out almost instantly.

For a few seconds, there seemed to be no explanation to what had happened to the prince. That is until two Buzzy Beetles crawled into the tent and shoved themselves between Patton and the ground. They slowly carried Patton out of the tent, making sure to go unnoticed. It was slow and painful for the minions, one wrong mistake and Logan would be crushing them. As soon as Patton was inches away from the Flying Koopas, they picked him up and flew away as quickly as they could.

Once again, Logan didn’t notice.

Virgil watched Logan embrace Patton for a few moments, he was proud of his brother. He turned and gulped, ready to face Roman. He planned on doing the same as his brother since it seemed to work.

Keyword being planned to.

Once he got a few feet from Roman, the prince turned his head sharply. Roman was wearing a glare. It was enough to make Virgil raise his hands and slowly back away.

Roman turned his head back “I thought you were Logan…”

Virgil sighed of relief “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Roman looked up at the stars. “Not disappointed”

Virgil stepped closer “Then what?”

“Frustrated, angry, a little bit sad.” Roman slowly turn to face Virgil.

“But why?” Virgil took another step towards Roman.

Roman frowned “You left.” Roman stood up “You left and didn’t tell me you were leaving.” Both Roman and Virgil took a step forward. “You did all that to spend time with someone who you are very close to. Someone you’ve never told me about.” Roman took another step forward.

A million sentences ran Virgil’s head. A million apologizes. A million ‘I love you’s. A million explanations. A million cynical remarks. A million jokes.

But all that could come out was: “You’re jealous.”

Roman rolled his eyes. He couldn’t tell if that was a statement or question but he was too stubborn to ask. The couple turned their backs to one another. Roman slumped his shoulders, he really didn’t want to keep fighting, but he couldn't’. It was his nature to just fight, fight, fight until the bitter end. It was who he was. It was who he had to be.

Virgil rubbed his arm absently, that didn’t work. He needed to choose his words carefully. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “Roman, you always get jealous…with other guys…and I…can’t take it anymore.” Roman whipped around, ready to plead with Virgil when a hammer hit him directly in the back of the head and rendered him unconscious. Before Roman could hit the ground, a Magikoopa used its magic to not only muffle the sound of the hammer but also to catch Roman. Virgil didn’t turn, he was working on what to say next. “I can’t take seeing you sad and suffering. I want to fix it, I want to help you.” Virgil smiled “So what do you say?” Virgil turned to see nothing.

Roman was gone.

Virgil sucked in his breath. Had Roman left before he finished? Did Roman think he was mad at him? Did Roman misinterpret what he said? Did Roman not want to accept his apology? Had he pushed Roman to run away?

Virgil ran to the camp, frantic. “Logan! I fucked up!”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “In what way?”

Virgil paced back and forth as he spoke “I was trying to make up with Roman and now he’s gone and I think he’s mad and now I don’t know what to do and now you’re giving me a look and…” Virgil began to pant, he had run out of words and energy.

Logan pulled him into a hug and rubbed gentle circles into his back. “Breathe Virgil. Remember, 4-7-8.” Virgil nodded and eventually calmed down. Logan gave him a small smile “Let’s wake Patton and find Roman, okay?”

Virgil smiled and nodded, he liked the sound of that. Logan poked his head into the tent slowly so he wouldn’t startle Patton. He frowned when he saw nothing but Roman’s sword. “That’s odd.”

Virgil tilted he head “What’s wrong?”

Logan stood up straight and pulled out Roman’s sword “Patton is missing as well.”

Virgil sighed of relief “Oh thank god. He’s not mad at me, just kidnapped.” It took a moment before Virgil processed his own words “Oh crap, Roman’s been kidnapped.”

Logan groaned “Most likely along with Patton. Wonderful, now we have three people to worry about.”

Virgil began to hyperventilate “Make that four.”

“...Ro…Rom...Roman!” Roman’s head jerk forward suddenly, a big mistake as it worsen the splitting headache he had he had. Roman attempted to get up and groaned when he found himself chained. Not this again…

Patton felt the relief wash over when he felt Roman stir behind him. He was shocked when he awoke to see he was no longer in his tent and it only grew worse as he slowly realized what had happened. He just hoped no one was hurt.

Roman wanted to ask Patton if he was alright, but the words died as the reached his tongue. Roman’s head was still blaring, but not from the injury. The argument with Virgil kept playing over and over, make Roman sick to his stomach. The guilt consumed Roman. He had truly screwed up, and there was nothing he could do about it now. Patton

Suddenly, spotlights turn on, blinding Patton and Roman. They now could see that they were chained to the wheelhead of a gigantic roulette wheel. The pockets were pink and orange, the princes could only imagine what it meant. Looking up at the balcony, they could Valerie trapped in large prize ball, looking terrified. Bowceit stood beside her, in his shiny silver sequin suit and holding a cane.

Roman burst out laughing “HAHAHA!! YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS!!”

Bowceit groaned “Oh great, Roman’s awake. Wonderful. Just what I needed.”

Roman smiled proudly “I live to serve.” That made Patton giggle.

Bowceit groaned and did something so extra, it even impressed Roman. He climbed off his balcony, climbed into the roulette wheel, and climbed up the wheelhead, all to slap Roman across the face.

Bowceit walked back to his spot, his wicked smile returning. “Now I’ve heard from a little birdy that you two think I’m not very fair.”

Roman narrowed his eyes “No you didn’t. You heard it from us, to your face, said among other things.”

“Roman, I swear to god, I will slap you again.”

Roman smirked “By all means, do it. Take your time even.”

“I’m not falling for that again.” Bowceit mumbled

Roman leaned forward “What was that?”

Bowceit groaned but took a deep breath, ignoring Roman to continue his speech. “Well, I want to let you both know that I am going to fix this. Instead of me picking who I marry, this handy-dandy roulette wheel will.” Photos of the princes appeared on screens behind the pockets. “And to show just how good I can be, I’ll let Valerie go with the prince who isn’t picked. Now, isn’t that just so nice of me?”

All three hostages voted no.

“WELL I DON’T CARE, LET’S START!” Bowceit pulled a lever and a large white ball appeared. There was a pause as a giant plunger, a thing you would normally find on a pinball machine, pulled back like on a pinball machine and sent the ball flying, round and round the roulette wheel.

Roman began working his way out of the chains, noticing what a sloppy job Bowceit had done this time. As Roman pulled his leg up to stand, he noticed that his photo slowly turned into Patton’s. Roman immediately sat back down and the picture turned back to Roman.

Patton’s eyes widen “Ro, did you see that?”

“Yup…”

Patton bit his lip “What should we do?”

Roman looked up, the ball was getting closer and closer to the pockets by the second, they needed to act quickly. “I have an idea pat. On three, we get up at the same time.”

“Got it.”

“One, two, three.” the princes both hopped up, keeping the same weight on the sensors. Per Roman’s instructions, they managed to get themselves out of the chains, each movement perfectly timed to be done at the same time. However, there was one more challenge, Bowceit had them chained on a small platform attached near the top of the wheelhead, it was very high up. The ladder was small enough for only one of them to go down, meaning whoever went first was dooming the other. Not to mention Patton was terrified of heights and didn’t seem to be moving now.

The ball was very close to the pockets now, they were trapped.

Virgil wants to break up with you because of how jealous you get. He never told you about this important person in his life. Does he really love you? Roman shook his head, he wasn’t going to let his panic thoughts takeover now.

Patton began to hyperventilate, he had no idea how they were going to escape now.

An idea popped into Roman’s head and he gulped. He turned his head to Patton “Patton?”

“Yeah Ro?”

“Forgive me”

“Why would I--” Patton was cut off by his own screaming. Roman kicked him off the ledge and sent him flying to the ground. Once Patton was in the air, Roman immediately jumped off the ledge. He hope that because neither man was on a sensor, the pictures would go back to blank.

Roman’s plan almost worked.

The only problem was that he waited a second to make sure Patton was off the ledge, that secure his picture on every pocket. It didn’t matter that he jumped, it didn’t matter that he was currently climbing out of the roulette wheel with Patton.

The ball landed on a pocket with his picture. He was chosen to be Bowceit’s husband.

Bowceit’s booming voice sent a shiver down his spine “Congratulations Roman! You are tonight’s winner!” A claw suddenly grabbed Roman and dragged him to Bowceit. Patton grabbed Roman’s hand and tried to pull him away but it was no use. Patton went tumbling backwards and Roman was struggling against Bowceit’s grip. Bowceit Jr. used his tail to press a button and the ball that held Valerie went tumbling towards Patton. It open once it was right in front of the prince and open. Patton quickly helped her out of it.

Bowceit chuckled “It has been a pleasure playing with you but we must be going!” Bowceit paused and exchanged a smirk with “Oh what the heck, one more game.” Wendy pulled a level and the roulette wheel disappeared. Suddenly, three walls appeared around Patton and Valerie. The walls got close enough that the prince and the mayor were touching shoulders. The walls began to move and pushed them towards the edge. Patton ran to the edge to see what their doom was only to jump back.

Apparently Bowceit decided that they would be trapped on a mechanical floating island, high above the ground.

Patton pressed his back against the wall, panic swelling up in him again. This was his worst nightmare come true.

Bowceit dragged Roman to the chapel, Roman noticed that it definitely had been moved. Bowceit placed him in the back of the church where there were chains waited for Roman.

Roman rolled his eyes ‘You sure had everything planned out, didn’t you?”

Bowceit laughed “Of course I did! I had a partner. Lady Luck was the integral part to my plan.”

Roman raised an eyebrow “And what does that mean?”

Bowceit locked the chains around Roman’s limbs “You see, I was expecting you to escape as quickly as possible and Patton would be chosen. But, I should have expected that you would sacrifice yourself. It was a 50/50 chance really.”

Roman was shocked “Y-You really didn’t know…?” Bowceit smirked “It’s called a gamble my dear.” Bowceit ran to the front, extending Roman’s chains so that they reached the other end of the chapel. He pulled out a pair of dice “I lied before, this is the final game.”

Logan and Virgil arrived at Bowceit’s castle as there was only about three feet of flooring under Patton and Valerie.

Logan was horrified “PATTON! VALERIE!”

“LOGAN! VIRGIL!”

“YOU TWO ARE GOING TO HAVE TO JUMP!”

Patton shook his head “Jump?! Are you crazy?!” There was two feet left when Patton patted his his sides out of nervousness. It was then he felt his umbrella was, after everything that happened, still attached to belt. Feeling it in his hands, his confidence returned. Opening it, Patton took Valerie’s hand and jumped. The umbrella caused them to float down slowly. Patton locked eyes with Logan and suddenly got an absolutely crazy idea in him mind.

Patton spoke softly “Valerie, could you please take the umbrella?”

Valerie nodded. Once she got one hand securely on the umbrella, Patton let go entirely. He found himself smiling. He wasn’t scared, he was excited. Within seconds, he was safely in Logan’s arms, like he knew he would land.

Logan pressed his forehead against Patton and whispered “That was crazy.”

Patton giggled “people do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Logan gently placed Patton on his own two feet. “I hope this means we are, as the kids say, ‘officially gucci’?”

Patton laughed and kissed Logan’s cheek. “Of course.”

Virgil made sure Valerie was securely on the ground before running around, looking for Roman. Patton moved away from logan and spoke sadly ‘Roman was taken by Bowceit.”

Virgil paused his pacing. ‘What direction?”

Patton pointed to the balcony and that was all Virgil needed. He used the flying Koopas as makeshift stairs that lead him straight to the chapel.

Logan found a hiding spot for Patton and Valerie before following Virgil. Patton and Valerie only had to exchange a look before they ran after the brothers to help them save Roman.

Roman was truly in hell. Bowceit didn’t even let him go down the aisle on his own accord. With each roll of the dice, Roman was pulled forcefully towards the altar, the chains digging into his wrists. It took Bowceit rolling an 11, a 15 and a 5 to get him to the altar. Clearly the dices had been rigged.

The Koopa who was being the priest began to speak. “Dearly beloveds, we are gathered today in the presence of these witnesses to join this king and this prince in Holy Matrimony. If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Both Bowceit and Roman looked at the door. They waited a few moments but nothing happened.

Bowceit threw his head back in joy “Ha! Looks like your little hero isn’t coming! Looks like he really like that girl more than you.”

Roman growled but looked down, he wasn’t going to allow himself to be tricked by Bowceit’s words once again. Though, he couldn’t just ignore than aching feeling in his chest. It was so loud, he could barely hear what the Koopa was saying.

“And now for the rings.”

Virgil kicked open the chapel down “RING, RING! GET AWAY FROM MY MAN BITCH!”

Roman sighed happily, hearts practically forming around him as he cupped his own face. Bowceit rolled his eyes “THAT DIDN’T EVEN RHYME!”

Needless to say, the fight ended just as Valerie and Patton appeared at the chapel.

Virgil undid the chains and looked at Roman, slightly unsure of what to say or do. “A-Are you okay?” Roman responding by tackling Virgil and kissing him passionately repeatedly.

Once Roman released Virgil from the onslaught of kisses and apologizes, Valerie embraced the princes.

“I’m so glad you two are alright, I can’t believe you guys go through that on the weekly.”

The princes happily hugged her back. “It’s nothing, we’re sorry you got dragged into it.” Roman spoke confidently.

Patton nodded “And if it’s any consolation, we would like to spend some time with you, to get to know you truly.”

Valerie wrapped her arms around each of their shoulders “I would love that. In fact, I have plenty of embarrassing stories to tell you two about your heroes.”

Patton and Roman exchanged smirks much to their boyfriends’ dismay. She truly was a keeper.

Tag list:

@corkeecoderyt @Per-seph-o-nee @Ohshrekmyheck @3milystuff @Asymmetricalgarbage8888 @fairytailtwists @sanders-sides-rebloger @sanderssidesfluffyangst @unikornavenger @0callmevirge0 @gloomingwitch @roxiefox24 @ijustreallylovesanderssides @unisaurioamorfo

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logicality #prinxiety #mario au #long post #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders

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euphoricpixi3 · 5 years

Text

Taste of Menace |2| ot7!mafia au

— Masterlist in my bio

— Pairings | this chapter | Jin x reader ; Taehyung x reader ; Namjoon x reader

— Through the story | reader x others as the story progresses

— Warning | this story contain smoking, swearing, tattoos, drinking, blood and drugs. This is a mafia!au!yandere

— Summary | Your first time watching the underground fight took a completely wrong turn, why were you the only one laying lifeless on the cold ground when you weren’t even fighting?

The pungent smell of hospital disinfect was overwhelming. The room was silent apart from your heavy breathing and the constant beeping sound. No matter how many signals and messages you sent to your brain, everything felt numb, as if you were unattached from your own body. Despite the numbness, you felt heavy and powerless, the recursive beeping only making things worse.

The heart monitor quickly caught up with the racing pounds in your chest. The beats that once were shallow, now so strong you think your chest will burst.

“Shit, what do I do?” the sudden voice was unexpected, it was low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of power. You couldn’t make what he was saying and even if you were trapped in the dark, everything started to feel like a spinning carousel, head is pounding and every cell in your body is screaming for oxygen.

It was like having another panic attack, only this time was nothing like the previous ones, you didn’t feel the tension growing in your limbs because everything was numb, the rapid beeping making it too hard to focus on your own breathing, you keep fighting, but there’s no use, sudden rush of emptiness spreads inside of you. You hear the same person calling someone ‘Jin’ before completely falling into another deep sleep.

Your heavy eyelids fluttered before you slowly opened your eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before you. You glanced around taking in your surroundings.

The room was white with a blinding light illuminating the whole room. It was nothing like the hospitals rooms you’ve been in, it wasn’t rusty, it was modern, the IV and monitors looking nothing like the old ones. The daunting feeling crept behind you. Sending your heart drop to the feet. You couldn’t afford this. Will you need to make an escape from a hospital?

You didn’t know why you were here, but you knew for sure you wanted out as soon as possible.

All of the sudden the only doors in the room were jolted open, revealing a dark haired man. He didn’t acknowledge you, his gaze fixed on the tray full of medicine.

Taking the opportunity of his unawareness, your eyes wandered from his head to toes. The white gown he was wearing brought out his broad shoulders. His posture reminded of a soldier, just like the ethereal male you’ve seen in the underground, he had the same powerful aura around him.

Wait…the underground.

Then it all hits you with a bang. The memory of it all starts to occupy your thoughts. Your best friend Eve, the guy who had collapsed.

The monitor reflecting your heartbeat started to beep more frequently, making the doctor frown. “Y-you’re awake”. You yelped in surprise as he suddenly turned around. The pain rushed through your body as the IV tube shifted from your movement.

The guy in front of you froze while looking at your teary eyes. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared” he whispered not moving. It wasn’t the same voice you heard before.

A loud whine escaped your dry lips as the tube kept causing uncomfortable feeling run through your whole self. “No!” he shouted as your right hand moved to pull it out. “Don’t do that. Just let me help you, I’m Jin”

You looked at him carefully nodding your head. Jin sighed before rushing to you. His hands carefully moved, shifting the tube the right way. “How are you doing?” he asked, sides of his mouth moving upwards. You tried to smile back, but you really weren’t sure how that turned out. Instead of answering his question, you asked about the guy.

Jin wasn’t happy about your ignorance, since you were his patient and you were the one with IV tube in your arm. “You seem really nice, so I’m really confused by how you know that prick” he answered before turning around, filling the cup with cold water.

You were about to ask what he meant by that, but the doors opened again. You couldn’t help but look at his face. Why on earth were they all so damn handsome.

“Ah, you’re awake! You scared me for a moment princess, I thought you were going to die on my watch. Namjoon wouldn’t have liked that” you knew that voice, you’ve heard it while lying conscious yet unconscious.

“Who’s Namjoon?” your quiet voice send signals to Jin, but Taehyung only smiled, he enjoyed being the powerful one.

“Our leader that we’re going to see now” Jin’s eyes got ten times bigger. “Taehyung, she’s too weak to walk and I’m certain she can’t handle Namjoon either”

The guy, whom you assumed was Taehyung only shook his shoulders. “I’m only taking orders, come one princess, let’s go”

Jin smiled apologetically before carefully pulling the tube out, motioning Taehyung to come and help you.

Taehyung’s arms wrapped around your waist, gently tugging you to his side.

You closed your eyes once you were on your feet, feeling as if every bone was snapped in half. “Shh. It’s not a long walk”

Taehyung was lying when he said it was short walk, it seemed as if you were walking for solid 7 minutes now. “Not a long walk my ass” your murmured to yourself before taking another painful step.

“It would be shorter if you moved faster, but I think I have an idea” you gulped as Taehyung started bending down, ready to pick you up,

“No... no! I can walk!” you yelled jumping further away from him, almost relapsing right there as the pain rushed through your body.

Taehyung’s laugh echoed through the empty hall before let you lean back to him. “Whatever you say princess”

The moment you were seated on a sofa in a big room, you felt so small. As if you were a bird in cat’s trap. The room was like a page from a magazine, everything so neat and organized. The furniture was dark and polished. Everything screamed expensive.

You were afraid to sit in case you wrinkle the fabric or stain it with something you don't even know is on your pants. The floor is a high polished wood, dark and free of either dust or clutter.

“Merlin’s beard, where the hell am I?”

“You’re in my office, babygirl” you heard your neck snap from the quick turn to the side. He’s taller than Taehyung or Jin, but he’s as just as gorgeous. Pouty lips curved into a smile, that seemed to hide something else rather than happiness. Only now you realized how rich everyone was. The clothes they were wearing looked exactly like the ones your friend would stare at online, wishing he could afford even a single sock.

Standing in front of you, he smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. You can never relax around such expressions. Because it always makes you feel as if you were a prey.

And for the first time, you really felt afraid.

“How about we make this quick?” he asked, his fingers tapping the dark table he leaned onto. You nodded your head as quick as you could, quietly saying “I couldn’t agree more” making Namjoon chuckle.

You dropped your eyes to the carpet in anticipation of him speaking to you. But when you raised them again, he was standing only two feet away. His hand reached for your jaw, squeezing it harshly. “You better look at me when I talk to you, we don’t want any more damage on this pretty face”

You shivered from his touch, trying not to show it, but the playing smirk on his face showed that he already knew what power he held over you.

“Seeing that you’re really weak, how about you sit down” he said, before tugging you down to the sofa, seeing as you hesitated for a brief second. Obviously, he gave commands rather than requests.

“Don’t you dare to disobey me, babygirl”

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

Text

So This Is Love (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a life filled with pain and suffering Bucky is finally able to define what love is.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: a toiny bit of angst/ floof

Warnings: like one swear word

Word count: 2110

If somebody would have asked Bucky Barnes what he thought about love, he wouldn’t know what to necessarily respond. In the forties, he would say it’s finding a nice girl to settle down with. It would be the feeling of coming back home after a hard day at work and being encased in the warmth of it, as a hot dinner was set on the table by his lovely wife with their few adorable children loudly chattering about their adventures. After he fell from the train he was made into someone’s puppet, Bucky’s free will wiped away just like his mind. So as the Winter Soldier he didn’t know what love was. His world was cold and dark, the only comfort- his worn out matters and scratchy sheets in a damp cell somewhere underground, hidden deeply in a Hydra base. Sometimes he thought love was getting a simple slice of bread after days of not eating. Sometimes it was the small nod his handlers gave after a successful mission, making Bucky’s heart beat in a normal rhythm once again, his brain realising there would be no torture or punishments this time.

But this Bucky, the one who roamed the streets of twenty-first century New York as a free man, was not either of those people. He was a mix of both and completely lost. After the whole showdown in Washington, the man went into hiding, slowly trying to rebuild a life on the shambles of what his memories held. He settled down in Romania for a while. Thought it would be out of the way and an inconspicuous enough place for him to reassess what to do next. Bucky even knew the language, a surprise to the ex-assassin himself when an old lady asked for directions and he could easily respond. That’s when Bucky thought love was his little run down apartment, where only he and a stray cat sometimes occupied it. The feline would curl up into the brown-haired man’s side on colder nights, softly purring as if singing a lullaby to chase his nightmares away. He thought love was the sweet smiles the vendors at the local market gave him, as the man did his weekly grocery shopping, having acquired a special taste for plums. Yet luck seemed to never be on his side. Vienna. The Avengers. The Sokovia Accords. Zemo. All that and more once again destroyed his perception of love and home, plunging the veteran in a never-ending war. This time at least he wasn’t completely alone. He had Steve and the rest of their ragtag group. The soldier’s heart thudded a bit faster every time Sam made a snarky remark and their blond friend had to reprimand the pair. Or his lips quirked up as Scott excitedly shook the Captain’s hand, wide eyes full of wonder when meeting his hero. Bucky thought that that could be love- everybody’s carefree attitude around him as they made him join into conversations. When he went to Wakanda a new kind of warmth surrounded the broken man. People were nice. They took care of him. Kids no longer ran away because of fear, rather from the joy of playing tag with the White Wolf. He got those horrible words out of his head. Slowly but surely Bucky grew and developed as a person. Every splintered piece found its place and finally, he was able to become a functioning human being, he could blend into normal society without the staple of a monster. That’s when he thought he knew what love was- the acceptance of people who knew all of the dirty deeds he'd done, yet gave him another chance. However, life seemed to like throwing curveballs. Only this time it was for the whole universe. Thanos and his mad plan. As the ships descended down upon the African country, Bucky marvelled at their technology despite having a piece of it attached to his own body. Love was protecting your people and humanity. Even though another battle stood before him, a giant’s boot about to squish an ant, the dark-haired man straightened his back and gripped the rifle harder. If he had to lay down his life to protect the weak he’d do without a second to spare because no matter what others had done upon him, Bucky would keep everybody else safe. He’d keep those kids who woke him up as the sun rose, safe. Shuri, the young genius who never pitied him and every single person who showed the smallest act of kindness. Not as a repayment, but because they were his friends. And he loved them. But even through their most valiant efforts, it never seemed to be enough. The whole world turned to dust and Bucky with it, taking him into the Soul Stone. There he was calm. He wasn’t alone, far from it, yet somehow Bucky felt nothing but peace. Obviously, he tried to help as many distressed people as possible. Sometimes he was met with harsh words instead of graciousness, but the man didn’t take it to heart. Accepting the fact of not being alive was a hard thing. But for the ex-soldier, it was a simple thing to do. It was only when Peter Parker, the kid who wore the Spiderman suit came up to him, shivering and afraid, searching for comfort in a familiar face, when Bucky found a role as a protector once more, vowing to do whatever it took to bring Peter back to his family. Bucky didn’t think he’d actually be able to go through with the promise, yet five years later or a mere few minutes for the people who died during Infinity War, he was back in the jungles of Wakanda, their team once again facing Thanos. Only this time, he was determined to fight. And win. Love for his peers and this world motivated the ex-Winter Soldier. The reignited passion of exploring the universe and what was beyond kept him going. Until he met Y/N. It had been the final battle, or what he hoped would be the last one when Bucky had gotten ambushed. Beasts, all twice his size, charged towards the man, taking him down with, their razor sharp nails and teeth trying to tear open every part of him. He was ready to give up, despair and fear clouding his mind, but then a bright light shone above and loud screeching pierced his ears. Bucky covered them with both palms, yet it did nothing to minimise the sound of pain coming from the aliens. Then they went silent and slumped to the ground. The soldier pulled in ragged breaths, quickly snatching the rifle from where it had fallen by his side and standing up. “Are you alright?” asked a soft voice to his left. A woman with concerned Y/E/C eyes and wild Y/H/C hair sticking in every direction had addressed him. She was dressed in a navy blue tactical suit, a bright red diagonal stripe crossing her right shoulder and ending at her left hip where he saw pale cerulean sparks dance along her fingertips. Chipped black nail polish adorned her nails and it cracked more with every second her powers surrounded the hand. “Yes,” he nodded, “thank you.” The reply he received was a mischievous smile before she winked and rushed off towards where Thor and Loki were battling side by side. “What’s your name, handsome?” she had hollered over the battlefield, burning up ten aliens as she did so. And despite himself, Bucky felt a smile creep up on his features. “I’m Bucky. Though what would be more important is to know the name of my saviour.” “Can you two get back to fighting?” Sam’s voice rang out through the comm system. James glanced up and saw the Falcon fly overhead, a clear look of annoyance settling on his face. “We’re in the thick of it, so stop flirtin’ and do some work.” “Are you jealous, Sammy?” a bell-like laughter echoed through the air. “You know you’re my favourite. No matter how much I might adore your gorgeous looking friend.” Bucky’s smile widened, despite the feel of his rifle going off, killing twenty monsters in the span of two seconds. “You think I’m gorgeous, doll?” She looked over her shoulder, hair whipping with the motion as her lips tugged up showing two rows of brilliant white teeth. “Did you think I saved you because of my good nature?” “I would hope so, otherwise me asking you out would be really awkward,” he replied through a snort. For a second the only sounds surrounding everybody were yells of command, grunts and roars, but then the woman replied. “Tell you what- we both survive this bullshit and I’ll go to dinner with you. If not… well, I think that has a self-explanatory ending.” And a warm fuzzy feeling slithered through Bucky’s body. It entered his veins and encased every blood cell, pumping that mind-bending new sensation into every muscle, so much so, he thought it would be too much for his body to contain and it would ooze out of every pore. As he punched and kicked his way towards victory, Bucky always kept one eye on the mysterious stranger who had so unexpectedly entered his life and brought his heart back from the dead. The dark pit it had fallen in was now a barely there hole, covered by a layer of freshly grown grass and flowers. It was like he could smell the happiness that had started to bloom in his bloodstream. It was a while and it was longer than Bucky wished, but the fight did end, with them being the victorious side. His saviour stood right next to Thor, a palm harshly pressing against her abdomen, red spilling onto the ground, but that playful grin stretched her cheeks apart even through the pain. He saw her grasp the Thunder God’s bicep and slide down onto the dusty ground, the larger man holding tightly under her armpits. “Why must you always try and best us?” The girl laughed through a hiss, Bucky crouching down next to her, worry written all over his face. “We were fighting in a battle to the death. Quite literally. Where would be the fun in it, if I didn’t try and prove how superior I am to all of you.” “You know, I might even think you did this on purpose,” Bucky’s metal palm cradled her head as he helped the girl lay down. “I can take a simple no.” “I would never, Bucky,” she pressed her free hand against where her heart beat in mock hurt. “I do have some class you know. If I don’t like a guy’s advances, I know how to throw a mean punch.” The soldier, Thor and the woman herself all laughed as Loki sat down on his knees and removed the palm from her abdomen that kept the blood from spilling out. A green mist covered her body like a translucent veil and an audible groan of pleasure and relief escaped the woman. “Try and not die next time, love. I’d really hate to be the only one who has to deal with my brother and his antics,” the Trickster’s deep voice was full of exasperation and care as he extended an arm and helped the girl up. “Don’t worry, Loki. I have quite the date to get ready for.” The dazzling smile she gave Bucky took his breath away. “I’m Y/N,” she extended a somewhat clean hand, for the soldier to grasp, but even if it had been covered in grime, he would have brought the surprisingly soft knuckles up to his lips anyways. “My saviour.” And as broken as he might still be, as much as his mind was still in shambles, Bucky Barnes could now definitely say love was the woman he had just woken up next to. It was her soft skin gently pressing against his, the barely audible snores escaping her throat and nose, but above all- it was that beaming grin that split her face apart as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth welcoming a new day in the best way possible. “What is going on in that head of yours, Sarge?” Her voice cracked from not being used the whole night, nails delicately scratching his scalp, the motion sending a shiver down from his spine to the tips of his toes. “Love,” came his simple reply and she smirked. “And have you reached a conclusion?” “I have,” he mussed, pressing their foreheads together before quietly exhaling, replying with the utmost truth his heart held. “I love you."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy@lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers

A/N: just thought to write something sweet. Thank you all for the loveley messages :) I’m doing so much better. There are still times that are not as good, but I’m getting there :) I’m thinking about getting back into writing for Cassian Andor, so watch out for that as well :)

P.S. please, tell me what you thought :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, please message me

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

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