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dontspillthefrijoles43 · 4 months

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Lost hero XIII- Breisa

Crashed landing…why would a flying dragon land that way?

Warning: Minor injuries, broken ankle, teenagers being teenagers, demigods being clueless Word count: 1557 Summary: AHHHHHHHH! 💥Crash! .....I think I broke my ribs...

Likes ❤️, Reblogs🔁, and comments 💬 very much appreciated!

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Breisa used to have a habit of being clumsy and tripping.

She figured nothing beat free falling through the air at the speed of sound.

Far below she saw city lights glimmering in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth.

A body shot past her—Leo, screaming and frantically grabbing at the clouds. “Not cool!”

She tried to shout. But the force they were falling at knocked the wind out of her lungs. All she could manage were short gasps.

Breisa had to think fast of the next best thing. She focused as hard as she could to try to levitate.

But the fear of being pulverized into the ground was just too much.

Something caught her arm and yanked her close—Jason and Piper.

Piper screamed “You have leveled out! Stretch out your arms and legs!”

As the fall slowed down, she felt power coming from Jason. Whatever he was doing was working—but they lurched up and down like on a bad carnival ride.

“Hav…get...Leo!” Piper yelled through the winds.

“...rough!” Jason shouted.

‘Wait what?!’ Breisa thought.

And they shot through the air like a bullet.

Then whump, a warm body slammed into Breisa—it was Leo. She grabbed him as best as she could but he still wriggled and sweared.

“Stop fighting!” Breisa shouted, “It’s us!”

“My dragon!” Leo yelled, “We gotta save Festus!”

An explosion rang below them. A fireball rolled into the sky from behind a warehouse complex, and Leo sobbed, “Festus!”

Jason’s face turned different colors of red and purple, he was straining himself too hard to keep them afloat.

They bounced like going down a giant staircase, hundred feet at a time.

Breisa's eyes were straining against the wind—she could barely make out a factory complex where Festus crashed. It was made up of warehouses, smokestacks, barbed-wire fences, and parking lots lined with snow-covered vehicles.

Jason groaned, “I can’t—“

And they dropped like stones.

They hit the roof of the largest warehouse and crashed through into darkness.

—

“¡HIJO DE PUTA!” Breisa swore.

She landed on, now smashed—wooden crates. Pain shot through her ribs.

Jason's voice called in an echo, “Where’d they go? Where’s Piper?”

“Ow, bro!” Leo groaned, “That’s my back! I’m not a sofa? Breisa?! Piper?! Where'd you guys go?!”

“Here.” Piper whimpered a few feet from Breisa.

“I’m right here too!” She forced herself up, and made her way towards Piper.

Breisa stumbled a bit but found Piper trying to get up from a metal catwalk. But her left foot was pointing the wrong direction.

“¡Aye güey!” Breisa winced and helped her sit up.

Footsteps rushed up the steps beside the catwalk.

Leo began to ask, “You two okay?” Then he froze as he saw Piper’s foot. “Ohh, no you’re not ok.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Piper groaned.

“You’ll be fine.” Jason tried not to sound worried. His voice failed him. “Do any of you have first aid supplies?”

Breisa rummaged through her bag—she found a bottle, pulled it up, and it read ‘antibacterial cream’. “Um, This could work? If the bone was sticking out..”

“Uh…” Jason turned, “How about you Leo?”

He dug around his tool belt, pulled some gauze and a roll of duct tape— which seemed too big for the belts pockets.

“How did you—” Piper tried to move her leg and winced. “How did you guys get those things?”

“Magic.” Leo and Breisa said in unison.

Piper raised an eyebrow.

“My sister gave me a magic supply bag.” Breisa explained. “It works.” She was pleasantly surprised.

“Magic tool belt.” Leo said, “I haven't figured it out completely. But I can summon just about any tool out of the pockets, plus some other helpful stuff.” He reached into another pocket, and pulled out a tiny tin box. “Breath mint?”

Jason snatched away the mints. “That’s great Leo. But can you fix her foot?”

“I’m a mechanic. Maybe if she was a car…” He trailed off.

“I think I can.” Breisa piped in. She tried remembering some of many first aid lectures from her aunt. She kneeled on the catwalk—slightly above Piper. “I’m going to need something to keep the pain away.”

Leo snapped his fingers at Jason. “Wait, what was that godly healing food they gave you bro— Rambo food?”

“Ambrosia dummy.” Piper said through gritted teeth,“There’s some in my bag, if it’s not crushed.”

Jason took her bag, and managed a ziploc bag with smashed pastry squares. He passed along.

“Here.” Breisa broke off a piece and fed it to her.

She relaxed a bit and demanded, “More.”

Jason frowned. “Piper, we shouldn’t risk it. They said too much could burn you up.”

“I’m guessing that should be enough for the pain anyway.” Breisa glanced at her awkwardly pointed foot. “I should set your foot.”

Piper didn’t look so relaxed anymore. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Oh yeah bunch of times.” Breisa lied. “Leo,got anything I can use as a splint?”

He found an old piece of wood and broke it in half. Then he handed her the gauze and duck tape. “Espero que sepas lo que estás haciendo.”

“I do…mostly.” She mumbled. “Jason, Leo— hold her leg still. Piper, this might hurt.”

Breisa counted to three in her head and snapped her foot in place.

Piper shrieked, and sucker punched Leo in an arm—who screamed in a higher pitch than her.

“Fuck off.” He swore, catching Breisa trying to hold her laughter in.

All together, they wrapped up Piper’s leg in makeshift splint.

“Ow.” She winced, “Maybe next time we shouldn’t set my foot before the painkiller? That hurt like a bitch.”

“That hurt? Geez, beauty queen!” Leo rubbed his arm. “Glad my face wasn’t there.”

“Sorry,” She said. “And don’t call me ‘beauty queen’, or I’ll punch you again.”

Breisa smiled, “You both did great.”

“We all did.” Jason passed Piper a water canteen. “Everyone else good? No server injuries?”

“Just some scratches.” Breisa waved off, but her side throbbed. She winced and clutched it. “Maybe a couple of bruises.”

“Definitely a bruised ego.” Leo was still rubbing his arm.

Jason handed both a piece of lemon squares.

It tasted like her dad’s arroz con leche. She felt the pain ease a bit.

Snowflakes fluttered through the hole in the roof.

Breisa just realized how old and abandoned this warehouse is.

Half broken tools around the floors and rusty machines. There were metals and wood materials in different directions. The place was tagged with graffiti.

“What happened to the dragon?” Piper asked. “Where are we?”

Leo’s expression turned sullen. “I don’t know with Festus. He just jerked sideways like he hit an invisible wall and started to fall.”

‘Hope you enjoy your trip demigod!’ The voice from the dream echoed. Breisa shuddered.

Leo pointed to the logo on the wall. “As far as where we are …”

It was hard to see through the graffiti, but she could make out a large red eye with the stenciled words: Monocle motors, assembly plant 1.

“Closed car plant,” Leo said. “I’m guessing we crash-landed in Detroit.”

Breisa wondered how he would have known that. But he was the mechanic, she would second guess him. “How far is that from Chicago?”

Jason spoke, “Maybe three-fourths of the way from Quebec? The thing is, without the dragon, we’re stuck traveling overland.”

“No way,” Leo said. “It isn’t safe.”

Piper nodded. “He’s right. Besides, I don’t know if I can walk.”

Breisa butt in. “Four people—Jason, you can’t fly that many across the country by yourself. I’m not even sure I know how to magic us there.”

“Right,” Jason said. “Leo, are you sure the dragon didn’t malfunction? Mean, Festus is old, and—”

“And I might not have repaired him right?” He puffed out his chest defensively.

Breisa put her hand on his shoulder. She gave a look to both of them.

“I didn’t say that,” Jason protested. “It’s just—maybe you could fix it.”

“I don’t know.” Leo sounded crestfallen. He pulled a few screws out of his pockets and started fiddling with them. “I’d have to find where he landed, if he’s even in one piece.”

“It was my fault.” Piper spoke suddenly.

“Piper,” Jason said softly, “you were asleep when Festus conked out, it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re just shaken up.” Leo agreed

“You're in pain. Just rest.” Breisa tried to put her at ease.

Piper’s guilt only grew. She looked like she wanted to say more but she swallowed her words.

Leo stood. “Look, um, why don’t you two stay with her? I’ll scout around for Festus. I think he fell outside the warehouse somewhere. If I can find him, maybe I can figure out what happened and fix him.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jason said. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

“Ah, I got duct tape and breath mints. I’ll be fine,” Leo said, a little too quickly. “You guys just don’t run off without me.”

Leo reached into his magic tool belt, pulled out a flashlight, and headed down the stairs, leaving Piper and Jason alone. With Breisa.

“I’m going after him.” She stood up awkwardly, “Uh scream if any trouble.”

“Be careful.” Jason called.

Breisa gave a thumbs up and rushed down the steps. She took a deep breath and plunged out into the snow.

(A/N: Post again sometime again this month, sorry of my lack of motivation 😭, hoping to finish this fic before spring [April] . Hope you all enjoy this chapter :), did not plan on leaving another cliffhanger for too long)

#leo valdez #leo valdez x oc #poc oc #spanish speaking oc #hoo #heroes of olympus #lost hero #pjo tumblr #jason grace #piper mclean #Breisa Alessandro

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envyadams-vs-me · 1 year

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King Steve being mocked by his friends and enemies with the song 'You're So Vain' by Carly Simon.

It starts when Tommy off-handedly scoffs and says, "You're so vain, dude." As Steve stands beside him fixing his hair in his car window.

This makes Carol laugh as she starts singing the opening verse of the song, by the time she gets to the chorus Tommy has joined in and Steve is laughing his ass off.

It's funny.

Or it starts that way at least.

Pretty soon it spirals out of hand and it's the worst thing anybody can say about Steve. If he even hears the opening line 'Son of a gun,' nausea turns his stomach and he has to leave.

Then he has Nancy, and she finds it endearing when he stops to fix a hair that's fallen out of place. She even stops of help him and laughs when he playfully slaps her hands away, muttering and exasperated "I got it."

Then Barb dies and he's bullshit. He's somehow worse than just a vain popular jock. He's not even real. His whole being is bullshit. It's not a fun realization.

But as he loses his friends and meets his platonic soulmate while working at an ice cream shop, he clings to his vanity. If he can't be anything else, he'll be pretty. It's the one thing he knows how to be.

He's fine being the pretty one. Even refers to himself as 'the hot babysitter', much to the kid's dismay. Of course the song comes back to haunt him when one of the kids hears it and says, "It made me think of you."

Steve finds that he's okay with that now. It doesn't bother him as much when the kids and older teens relate the song to him because it's not malicious. They hear the song and smile because they think of their friend. That makes Steve's heart warm and fuzzy, his affection only grows for his lil found family.

Then he gets Vecna'd.

His trapped in his own head, haunting memories of his parents abuse and abandonment. His 'friends' forcing him to do things that now make him want to hurl. Him watching others get beat up and bullied and doing nothing about it.

He's near passing out with how rapid his breathing gets, then he's in his empty house. Standing in his living room, alone.

A record player, perched on his coffee table, comes to life and he feels dread wah over him. He's ready to throw up, to cry, to beg for this all to stop, when he hears a familiar whisper.

"Son of a gun..."

He reels back as if he's been hit and he can feel the presence of Vecna still haunting him, but he's no longer scared.

As he listens to the song he realizes he's singing along, tapping his foot and thinking of his friends. His family. He can hear their voices.

He can hear their footsteps as they crash into his house and there's a pause before Steve's inviting them in to come sing with him. It's no longer a nightmare, not with his friends.

Soon they're all screaming the song and laughing as they stumble over each other. It fills Steve up with the warmth of the sun and he's never felt more safe or happy listening to a song that used to haunt him.

He wakes up in a hospital bed to the soft sound of a guitar and tired mumbling. He's tapping his fingers to it, when he realizes he's not alone.

Dustin's at his side snoring, head lulled on the side of his bed. Mike, Lucas, and Max all stuffed onto a small loveseat. And Robin, leaning up against Eddie. Eddie, the source of the soft guitar yawns and stops his playing to drags his hands down his face.

"Don't stop now, you're at the best part." Steve's voice is incredibly hoarse, like he hasn't spoken for days, and his whole body hurts but he's smiling. He's happy to see his family.

The somber mood doesn't last long, as Eddie's screaming wakes everyone up. Lucas runs to get Nancy, El, and the adults who were anxiously waiting outside the room.

Steve's bombarded with hugs and sobs all around him and he's never felt more loved, nor more appreciative of his vanity.

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bibliphale · 8 months

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post season 2 ep 6 drabble ── tied heavily to @n1atruc's meta post here.

heaven was too vast , too empty. it made me yearn for the warm clutter of my bookshop , of the faint smell of dust & freshly brewed tea , of the idly flickering lamp by my desk , of the faint , familiarly cloying cologne of the demon who snored on my sofa. blunt , manicured nails dug into the grooves of my palms , clasped neatly behind my back as i peered out of the offices , overlooking the sheer expanse of the planes of heaven. too bright , too ethereal ; a bit like me now , i supposed. i could see the reflection of myself in the window panes ; my eyes glowing like the supreme archangel's would , my hair too long , smoothed neatly back from my face despite the wildness of the curls. i'd grown a beard , but even that was relatively tamed , just as white as my hair as i watched the unfamiliar shape of me waver in the reflection of the glass.

i remembered how hard i'd tried to keep myself composed in the elevator leading up to heaven , all those months ago. how the metatron babbled on about the second coming , like i was truly listening , like i wasn't staring out into the voided , empty nothing , swallowing back the innate desire to double over & wretch up what was left of the coffee he'd offered me. the higher the elevator climbed , the further i could feel myself distancing from crowley.

oh , crowley. i'd never been that angry before , not with him. not as he crashed our lips together with bruising force , so sloppily i swore our teeth clattered & i bit the inside of my cheek , a choked sob escaping my throat as soon as he released me , my fingers knotted 'gainst his back soon falling away to fist at my sides. i'd known demons were manipulative , but i'd never for one second thought he would go to those lengths with me. i'd wanted to kiss him for eons , even well before 1941 , but i'd always daydreamed about gentle things , of tender , summer kisses with sunshine beating down & the smell of wildflowers around us. romantic things. not this , not violence , not as i tasted my own blood in my mouth as he stepped away from me , throat bobbing as i fought the urge to cry.

i love you. you stupid , stupid demon , please , i love you , i need you , don't do this , don't you dare make me choose.

❛ i .. i forgive you. ❜ heaven called to me , it sang with the promise of renewal , of bending with me to accommodate my new changes ; but oh , how could i focus on such distant things when the creature i'd loved for so long finally confessed their love for me ? it was a tool to make me stay , a barbed , digging manipulation tactic that dug it's spears into my heart & forced me to dig my heels into the floor , otherwise i might've crumbled at his feet to cry.

i forgive you for trying to do convince me to stay. i forgive you for not seeing the bigger picture. i forgive you for not coming with me.

even now , i could taste him. drifting my fingertips across my lips as i stared at my reflection , my other hand still balled into a fist at my side , nails slowly beginning to bite crescent shaped marks into my skin , the acrid copper stench of fresh blood hitting my nose before i could feel the pain. it was like crowley had kissed me , reached down into my throat , & wrapped his claws around my heart. he still held it , even now , even while it beat painfully 'gainst my chest , i could still feel him. there was a blistering heat that seared across my skin , forcing me to suck in my breath , dropping my fingers from my mouth as i whirled around on my heel at the same time an alarm began to blare somewhere within the building. miracles were happening on earth , & not good ones ; mild natural disasters stretching across several countries. if i strained my ears , i could almost swear i could hear screaming.

no. no , i couldn't hear it. i could feel it. no other angel around me reacted the way i had to the sound , simply glancing at the world map in passing for a couple heartbeats , then moving on. couldn't they feel it ? hear it ? the violent pain that tore within me forced me to stumble , to clutch my fingers at my chest , digging fingers past my blue silk tie to press my hand to my heart , which was thundering much harder than it should. crowley. i knew it was him. i didn't know how i knew , but i did. i'd heard those exact screams before , but i'd buried the memory of them , feeling nothing but guilt as i'd turned my head away from watching him plummet to hell. tears spilled down my cheeks , the grieving sobs pouring nothing but holy water as i gasped for air , on my hands & knees as i clutched at my chest. someone was there , another angel had stopped to help me to my feet , bewildered by the state of me. they couldn't hear the screaming , they couldn't feel what i felt.

❛ i'm fine , i'm fine , don't .. don't touch me , please don't. ❜ i wheezed , gently ushering her hands from my arms , scrambling away from her to press my back to the window , sitting haphazardly collapsed 'pon the white tile , inhaling a shaky breath that caught in my throat with a hyperventilated sob. palm pressing to my forehead , i willed the screaming to stop , the pain to go away. i had my own pain to deal with , which was so much easier to compartmentalize without all of this. i love you. i love you , please , i'm so sorry i never said it. that wasn't the right time to say those words , i knew that , i know he knew that. nothing about that last morning in my bookshop had been right , we'd been angry , desperate. i'd had my first kiss , yet remembering it brought nothing but agony.

don't do this. i'm doing this for us. for the world. one day i know you'll come to see what i did had been the hardest choice of my entire life , but i'd rather you hate me & be alive , safe , than love me & be constantly in danger , or dead.

sobs muffled behind my palms , what a sorry sight i was. the new supreme archangel , crying into their fingers , a crumpled mess on the floor of heaven as other angels walked past awkwardly , uncertain of whether to help or not. as my hands fell , i glared balefully up at the ceiling , my throat painful , constricted , tears streaming down my cheeks as i willed them to stop. the screaming had stopped , as had the quiet alarms. but the pain didn't go away. it was like a knife had punctured between my ribs , like crowley's claws were digging into my heart , squeezing as i slowly bled out internally. tongue rolling over my lips , i pulled my sleeve down to my fingers , wiping anxiously at my eyes as i struggled back to my feet , my white hair a knotted , wild mess now as i carded my hands through ; a weak attempt at smoothing them out again.

i had to see this through. i'd made my choice , as painful as it was , i had to see this through to it's completion. i could make a difference , i could change the way people think. i could get the almighty to agree with me , to see the good i was doing. i knew i could. willing the pain to dimimish , but knowing bitterly that it wouldn't , i pressed my palm to my chest as i peered out over the expanse of heaven again , shoulders heaving as i struggled to calm my breathing , which wheezed through gritted teeth , lungs burning as i pressed my forehead to the cool glass. stop. god , please , make it stop.

i'm sorry , crowley. i love you but i need to do this.

#out .#self harm /#ptsd mention /#trauma mention /#panic attack mention /#headcanon /#this got extremely long READ AND SUFFER #long post /

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glennrheesdaughter · 1 year

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Imagine being Glenn's daughter and being there when he dies.

“For that, I’m gonna beat the holy hell, out of one of you.”

I shivered as I was kneeling down next to the others. My body trembled with fear, and I made eye contact with Dad. He stared at me, and I could see the pain in his eyes. He was scared, why wouldn’t he be? Why wouldn’t everyone be scared?

“This- this is Lucille and she is awesome.” Negan presented his bat, cloaked with barbed wire, to Rick. Negan pointed lazily at everyone with his finger. “All this, all this just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.”

Negan strolled over to Carl. He stood tall over him and he chuckled.”This is your kid, right?” He laughed as his eyes went back and forth between Rick and Carl. “This is definitely your kid! Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little.” Carl just glared at him and Negan shook his head.”Well, kid, if you’re gonna be that miserable then there’s really no point in you staying here, right?” Negan swung the bat up and Rick immediately ran towards Negan, screaming for him to stop. Rick was pinned to the ground by Negan’s men “Just stop this! Stop!” Rick cried.

“Nope, put him back in line. Don’t any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one’s free. It’s an emotional moment, I get it. But, I gotta pick somebody!” Negan swung the bat up and onto his shoulder. “Everybody’s at the table waiting for me to order. But, I simply cannot decide!” He paced back and forth and he suddenly stopped in front of Abraham. “I got an idea.”He said lowly.

I pulled my sleeves down to cover my hands and I made eye contact with Dad once more. He tried to smile at me, letting me know things were going to be okay, but I know he didn’t mean it. As much as he tried to reassure me, I knew that someone was going to die. Still, I smiled back at Dad sadly and then I looked down to the ground.

I felt Uncle Daryl put his hand on my shoulder.

Negan walked up to Abraham and started to bash his head with Lucille. I screamed and covered my eyes.

I uncovered my eyes and saw Uncle Abraham survived the first few blows. I looked at dad as he looked petrified.

Then Abraham told Negan to suck his nuts them got bashed again and then, after ten hits, there was nothing left.

I sobbed. Negan started taunting Rosita. Uncle Daryl scooped me into his arms and then glared. He stood up and tried to attack, but was subdued and he went back to me.

Negan began taunting again as I cried.

Negan shifted his head as I realized it was to Dad. I sobbed.

Two of his men dragged him out. He looked at me and Daryl.

"Daryl, Don't you let her look!" He yelled. Uncle Daryl pulled me closer.

The bat was about to come down." DARYL DON'T YOU LET HER FUCKING LOOK!" Dad yelled.

Uncle Daryl put my head in his chest and covered my ears.

I peeked to see dad's skull broke and his eye hanging out. I sobbed as I buried my face into Daryls chest.

"Sweetie...Find Mommy." He whispered as he got struck again. I looked and saw he was like Abraham..

There was nothing left.

I screamed and cried, as Daryl held me closer. Negan looked at me, as Daryl glared.

"Let's go and bring the child." Uncle Daryl picked me up and we went to a building. We got thrown into the same cell.

Uncle Daryl put me on the bed and wiped my tears." Please, Don't cry. I hate seeing one of My Little Ass-Kickers cry." He whispered as I tried to stop, after 5 minutes I did.

" Let's get you some sleep." He whispered." Can I sleep with you tonight?"

He nodded and we laid down as he put me protectively to his chest." Don't worry Kid. You got me now." He whispered.

#daryl imagines #daryl dixion imagine #glenn rhee #x reader #walking dead #the walking dead

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sasholotl · 2 years

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hey, a piece for the ronance fandom cause I love them very much and my brain is rotting haha

AO3

Nancy woke up abruptly, mouth dry and back wet, with the certainty she was back in the Upside Down where everything was cold and dark, where the dead body of Barbara was watching her without mercy. Underneath her lids, as if carved on her pupils, the image of fiery red hair and unseeing eyes kept haunting her. Nausea rose in her throat but she swallowed it back, focusing on the pattern on her walls to keep her head from spinning.

In her chest, her heart was beating so fast, she thought it would hurled itself out of her ribcage onto the wall. She brought her hands to her chest, pressing in the hope it would somewhat calm her, but she knew it was hopeless.

The only thing that could calm her down was living kilometers away from her.

Without thinking – or more precisely, thinking only of the desperate need to see her – Nancy grabbed the phone on her bedside, her fingers tapping the numbers as if it was muscle memory more than an actual conscious action.

Robin answered at the third ringtone, her voice groggy with sleep as she mumbled, ''Nance, god, what the hell are you doing awake at 3 a.m. ?'', and suddenly it was like she just couldn't breathe, couldn't think clearly because she couldn't see Robin, couldn't make sure she was alright. What if she had gotten Vecna-ed without Nancy knowing ? What if Robin was in danger right now ?

What if dreaming about Barbara was just her brain's way of telling her something wrong was gonna happen soon ?

She only registered the tears on her cheeks when one drop fell on her hand. Her throat closed around the words she wanted to say.

Are you safe ? Can you come over ? I need to make sure you are safe and sound. I need to see you.

''Nance ?'' Robin sounded more awake now, concern sipping into her tone. When Nancy failed to speak, struggling to even breathe properly, Robin cursed lowly and ruffling sounds made themselves heard as Robin presumably left her bed. ''Hey, it's alright, I'm coming, okay ? Give me twenty minutes and I'm out throwing pebbles at your window like the proper knight I am.''

Nancy couldn't crack a smile at Robin's ongoing joke, instead croaking a pitying, ''Please.'' that only made Robin sound more upset.

''Sure, babe, I'm on my way.'' There was a curse then, followed by a loud thud and another curse. ''Shit, shit, shit, dropped the phone, sorry.''

It was all so typical Robin behavior, it somewhat managed to soothe a little her racing heart. Not enough to smile, but enough to feel like maybe it was okay, maybe Robin was safe and Nancy was safe and everyone was safe. Maybe it was just a simple nightmare, a representation of the guilt gnawing at her subconscious about Barb and her death and nothing more.

But then, Robin shattered the relative peace Nancy had managed to find and said, ''I've gotta go Nance, I'm sorry, I can't possibly bring the phone-''

''No, no, please don't go, don't leave me, please Robin, I don't want to be alone, please, please-'' Nancy begged, sobs building, burning, in her chest, impossibly big for her body, like if she repressed them, she would explode. Or maybe it was the panic racing in all her body, from her fingers clenched around the phone to her legs' muscles contracting, ready to bolt out of the room at any anomaly.

''Hey, hey Nance, shh, it's okay.'' It took several minutes of Robin murmuring soothing words before Nancy felt like she could breathe again. ''I can't bring the phone with me, but I promise I will be as fast as humanly possible, okay ? I will summon the athlete in me and run faster than Steve being serenaded by Tammy Thompson, you'll see.''

This managed to tear a weary chuckle from her, more hysteric than genuine. Still, it felt like a win, still being able to laugh in the face of the terror gripping her guts.

''Fortunately, Steve will never know how much we laugh at him,'' Robin whispered, her smile almost audible in her voice, ''or he will have my death.''

''He loves you too much to kill you.'' She said back, her voice hoarse and croaky, made wobbly by the sobs stuck in her throat.

''You're kidding, Wheeler ? One of us has to pay for teasing him, and it sure as hell isn't gonna be you because you are clearly his favourite. He wouldn't hurt a single hair of your pretty head.'' There was a slight pause then, and Nancy knew what was coming. ''I, um, really have to go if I want to be by your house in twenty minutes.''

She screwed her eyes shut, willed herself not to let her panic escalate. ''I know.''

''I will be here soon, Nance.''

''I know.''

''I will smother you in affection as soon as I'll arrive.''

This tugged a smile at her lips. ''I hope so.''

She could feel Robin's own reluctance at hanging up. ''I love you Nance.''

''I love you too.'' She inahled deeply, let air fill her lungs. ''See you soon.''

Nancy hanged up the phone, and prepared herself for the longest twenty minutes of her life.

[…]

Something tapped her window, urging. It took her so much by surprise she almost screamed, but the sound died on her lips the moment she saw Robin's face behind the glass, twisted in concern even though she offered Nancy a soft smile. Scrambling up from the corner she had retreated to, Nancy's trembling hands came to open the window.

She wasted no time in tugging Robin inside, clutching her girlfriend's shirt hard enough to feel blood pulse in her fingertips. As soon as Robin was back on the floor, she threw herself at her, arms locking her in an embrace that could not have feel comfortable at all. And yet, Robin ''this shirt is way too small, I'm gonna die of asphyxiation'' Buckley didn't protest, simply coming to hold her tight, her chin choosing to rest on top of her head.

''It's okay, Nance, I'm here.'' A low whine escaped her, and underneath the panic throbbing in her chest, a flush of embarrassment burned at being so needy when obvisouly everything was fine. ''I'm safe, and you're safe too, I promise.''

''I'm sorry,'' she whispered against the crook of Robin's neck, her voice coming out way too hoarse and wobbly, ''I'm just making a fool of myself.''

And she should really stop clinging to Robin. She should drop her arms and step back and apologise for making Robin come at this ungodly hour.

''What ? No, Nancy, it's okay, you had a nightmare. It's normal to feel scared. Hell, you know I have nightmares too. Everyone has.''

Nancy shook her head. ''I shouldn't let it get to me. It's stupid, it's just a nightmare-''

''Let it get to you ?'' Robin said, and Nancy couldn't tell if she was angry or confused. Maybe a bit of both. ''You had a nightmare, how can you not let it get to you ? This is like, the literal function of a nightmare. It's made especially to get to you !''

''That's not what I meant !''

''Then what did you mean ?''

''It's not real, and I know it. I know that everytime I see Bar-'' The words left her there, because she just couldn't say her friend's name, not out loud, not when it was all her fault. She swallowed. ''I know that all I'm seeing in these dreams is not the truth. So why am I letting it get to me ? Why can't I get over it, like you and Steve did ?''

She stepped back then. Not far enough to leave Robin's embrace, but enough to see her face. Robin's brows were furrowed, her eyes narrowed, and hadn't she still felt the remaining of panic poking around, Nancy would have felt flustered at how cute Robin looked.

''Nance,'' Robin began, her hands coming to cup her cheeks, warm and soothing, ''do you really think Steve and me got over it ?''

''I don't- I don't understand. You don't have nightmares anymore.''

Robin chuckled. She sounded more weary than amused.

''It's not that easy to 'get over it' as you said. It's not something that we can just bat away because we find it annoying.'' Her girlfriend's hands slid to her shoulders, squeezing gently. Robin looked away, her eyes landing on her Tom Cruise poster. Her jaw clenched. For a brief moment, Nancy thought she would cry. ''Steve cannot spend an hour without calling the kids, and even though he knows it's bothering them, he can't stop. He's just afraid they're gonna disappear, I guess.'' Robin sighed shakily, her gaze dropping to the ground. ''I'm not blaming him. Sometimes it feels like everything could go wrong at any moment.''

''Robin, I... I had no idea...''

''Yeah, it's not the sort of things he likes to talk about. And for the nightmares, well... Let's just say that we spent more than one night laying in his room, listening to some bands he liked until he was too tired to put off sleep.''

Nancy couldn't stop herself then, grabbing Robin's hands, rubbing her thumbs against her girlfriend's skin. ''I'm glad you can be here for him.''

Robin nodded but her eyes had this faraway look and Nancy wondered where her mind had taken her. The words burned her tongue, but she swallowed them back. Still, Robin seemed to sense her curiosity as her eyes snapped back to hers, their blue shade brightened by the room's light.

''I don't have a lot of nightmares, and when I have, they're usually mild enough that they don't prevent me from sleeping. But...''

''But what ?'' she asked, hoping she sounded soft and kind, that her guilt of not knowing her own girlfriend was suffering too wasn't audible.

Robin's eyes closed, and she sighed, before stepping away to sit on the bed. Before Nancy could feel her panic reignite, Robin patted the space next to her.

''Nightmares aren't always the worst you know,'' Robin said as Nancy sat close enough to her for their sides to be pressed together, ''Sometimes it's the simple things. Like how I can't be alone, otherwise it's like I can't fucking breathe. Or how I always have music in my ears because what if Vecna is still alive somewhere, plotting his evil plan to take his revenge on us ?'' Robin turned to her, and her whole face twisted in anguish. ''The relief I feel everytime I see you or Steve or the kids making me dizzy. It's like there's this constant fear of something happening to one of us, and the only time I'm not scared is when I'm with you.''

There was nothing she could think of saying. Instead, she grabbed Robin's hand, angling her body so she could tug Robin against her, until her girlfriend's head was safely buried in the crook of her neck.

''You're the only one who's able to make me forget what we went through. You and Steve are the only ones I feel safe with.'' Robin whispered, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. For a long moment, neither of them talked, both relishing the comfort the other exuded. ''And to be honest Nance, you're probably the only functioning one out of all of us right now.''

She laughed self-deprecatingly. ''You can only say that because you didn't see me almost pissing myself when I woke up.''

''That's a pity, that must have been a sight.'' Robin muttered teasingly earning a swat at her head. Her girlfriend snickered but otherwise did not say anything else, burrowing closer to her.

Nancy was ready to call it a night and try to get some sleep for the few hours of night they had left. She disentangled them, ignoring Robin's groans of protest at how totally unfair it was, and laid on her bed, opening her arms in a silent invitation for Robin.

Surprisingly, Robin, who was always eager to receive physical affection, didn't move, choosing instead to stare at her with an unreadable expression.

''What ?'' Nancy said, becoming more and more self-conscious the more Robin stayed silent.

Robin smiled, adoration pouring from her in waves. It made Nancy's heart stumble in her chest.

''Maybe you really don't know, but you're the bravest person I've ever known.'' Before Nancy could protest, Robin crawled over to her, hovering above her in a way that would have sent her to Heaven had it not been for the gravity of the moment. ''And yes, counting Steve.'' Robin's smile expanded at the sound of her chuckling. ''If I was you, I would simply never leave my room. I can't imagine what these nightmares are like for you. And yet, you never let them win. Everyday, you're ready to stand up and fight off the fear creeping around.''

She just couldn't resist the wave of affection and fondness hitting her, so she kissed Robin. Slowly, trying to show her what her words meant to her.

''You're my hero,'' Robin whispered against her lips, ''You're so, so fucking brave.''

Her eyes burned, but she blinked the tears away. ''I love you.''

Robin grinned, looking so beautiful, it physically hurt. ''Love you too.'' Her girlfriend kissed her again before rolling on her side. ''Now time to sleep. You need your beauty sleep after all.''

''Shut up,''Nancy groaned, despite the smile tugging at her lips, ''If one of us needs sleep it's you. You look like you haven't sleep in days.''

''Whose fault is that ?'' Her girlfriend's remark was soothed by the kiss Robin pressed against her wrist. ''Besides, I've been having this ridiculous dream of being chased by a squirrel.''

This was so unexpected Nancy couldn't help but burst into laughter.

''Oh c'mon, stop laughing. It's not funny. Squirrels are terrifying !''

''You fought one of the most horrible creature in not one, but two worlds, and you're afraid of squirrels ?''

''I would take Vecna over squirrels any day.'' Robin replied, a solemn expression on her face.

Nancy's belly was aching, and her eyes watered because of her unending laughter. She didn't know how Robin always managed to soothe her nerves, no matter the situation.

She wasn't about to complain.

And maybe the nightmares would become bearable, if it meant Robin would be there to ward off the darkness.

For now, Nancy simply wriggled closer to Robin, allowing herself to doze off to the sound of Robin's deep breath and her whispered ''I've got you Nance, you can sleep.''

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #ash writes #GIMME MORE CANON INTERACTION OF THEM

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duskandstarlight · 3 years

Text

Embers & Light: Chapter 43.5

Notes: So when I posted last week I realised a few hours later that I hadn’t posted the whole chapter! So, here you go. An early, albeit short, update. Thanks as usual to my beta @noirshadow, who is incredibly patient with all my E&L ramblings and makes sure my writing actually makes sense!

Chapter 43.5

Nesta

Cold air snapped at Nesta’s body as Sala flew her to Lorrian and Frawley’s. Cassian travelled behind her, trailing her path, the beat of his wings grating on her until she wanted to scream.

Of course, he hadn’t let her fly alone. He’d had to make sure that she was safe. That bond again, dictating his desires. Nesta didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that.

By the time she landed, Nesta had whipped herself into a fury that was frantic in its making—quivering with an energy that made her want to roar and sob until she was consumed with it.

“You’ve done your job,” she spat at Cassian, as he landed softly on his feet beside her with a neat retraction of his wings. “Now leave me alone.

They had landed just before the pine trees of the Eastern Steppes, where the forest decided to part for its witch and her home. The pine needles blocked out the sparkling stars above, casting the forest into smudgy shadows that made it near impossible for Nesta to pick her way across the ground, despite her fae eyesight.

When she stumbled, Cassian flared his magic to light the way but, thankfully, he did not dare reach for her. Loose roots and fallen branches created obstacles underfoot, but Nesta let her body tackle them blindly until she cleared the tree line and suddenly she could see again.

Nesta picked up her pace, storming along the paddock fence as the cottage came into view. The building’s shape was blanketed by a coal-night hue, save for the buttery light that fogged around Lorrian and Frawley’s bedroom window. Besides the smoke puffing from the chimney, the night was alarmingly still, as if had taken in a gasping breath in anticipation of what was to unfold beneath it.

The absence of Illyria’s fierce wind in Nesta’s anger felt foreign and infuriating, so Nesta walked faster, creating her own breeze. But the soft caress against her cheeks rather than the hurricane she longed for only served to sharpen the blade of her anger until it was lethal.

“Running away again,” Cassian growled from close behind her, his resolve to stay silent clearly breaking as Nesta stormed past the paddock entrance. He caught her wrist with a leather-clad hand and Nesta’s body jerked backwards as she was pulled towards him.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked as she snarled at him with such savagery it sounded like a wild animal. His voice cracked like ice over a river. “Why are you fighting something that I know makes you happy. I can make you happy, Nesta.”

“Stop it,” Nesta cut back, the slash in her voice a warning just as much as her words. Because Cassian sounded so agonisingly sad it bruised her lungs, every breath coiled with pain.

“I’m not letting go,” Cassian told her, and they both knew the meaning was figurative as well as literal as he searched her face for something that would tell him to stay. “You can shout and scream and bite all you want, but you are not running away from me again. Not this time.”

Go home, Cassian.

“I don’t need someone to make me happy,” Nesta spat. “I can be happy independently of you.”

“You can have both.”

A cold, cruel laugh bubbled out of her. “Is that what you tell yourself every day when you pretend you can wear me down? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That you’re hoping I’ll give in and accept a bond I have explicitly told you I do not want?”

Cassian didn’t let go of her. Instead, he pushed her hand back to her as if it disgusted him to hold onto her. Nesta caught how his black hair sifted, the strands shining in the starlight, just before she turned her back to him.

It wasn’t too late to catch the curl of his lip and the way hurt seized the green and brown of his eyes. “You think I lie to myself? Nesta, you pull the wool over your eyes every damn day!” The last three words were staccato, thudding after her as she all but spirited away from him on a storm wind. “You have wanted me since you met me. Admit it. You want me and I want you. It’s simple. It’s all simple if you’d just stop fighting—”

The audacity to insinuate that Nesta’s feelings were inconsequential was too much. It hurt more than anything else Cassian had ever said, the rest of his barbs merely needles to this blade. Because none of what was between them was simple. It was a tangled web of terror and confusion and a desperate need Nesta did not understand.

The ignorance—the implied slight at her intelligence—had Nesta whirling, cutting Cassian off mid-sentence. Magic thundered through her veins, her power barrelling to her palms. She had to expel it—had to let it out like a curdling scream. Without thinking, she flung out her hands.

Nesta’s magic flew, roaring silver flames closing the distance between them. All she cared about was making Cassian recoil when her fire sizzled into nothing millimetres from his face. All she needed to see was the froth of his anger as it finally boiled over and met hers.

But Cassian moved quicker than Nesta had ever seen him. Red light shot from his siphons but this time there was no shield like there had been all of those months ago. Magic barrelled from his chest, his shoulders, his knees, the backs of his hands to meet hers—all of that magnificent power channelled towards her.

Scarlet and silver lit up the clearing, bathing their surroundings like glistening blood. Nesta braced herself for the slamming impact, expected for them to both be thrown backwards, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her body was seized with a sudden vigour—like a wonderful, gasping breath. And their magic… it didn’t clash. No, their jets of power melded together, silver meeting red until it formed a smooth running stream. It glimmered, quiet and calm in contrast, like the calm and tranquil night sky.

It felt right and wonderful and infuriating. Even Nesta’s magic was betraying her. Even her power couldn’t help but want him, even when she was incandescent with rage for the warrior before her.

Unleashing a growl of anger, Nesta dropped her hands in defeat. They hung at her sides, a useless deadweight. She was panting hard, even though what she’d just done hadn’t exerted her—it had been easy and right and thrilling, as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep.

For a moment, there was only silence. Cassian’s chest was heaving, his hair as wild as hers. His hands were still outstretched towards her, each and every one of his siphons activated and glowing. Like her, he was staring wide-eyed at the magic that hung overhead like a mist, their very own canvas of stars.

When his eyes flicked to hers, the shock in them was still stark. In fact, Nesta could have sworn she spied terror in them. He stepped forward—her Cassian—but Nesta stepped back. A disgruntled growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and then he was striding towards her before she could even think about moving away from him. Stopped when he was a breath away from her.

Pine and musk wound around her body in an invisible embrace and Nesta’s face crumpled at the familiarity of it. She wished she was curled up beside Cassian in bed, her limbs tangled in his, her nose buried in his neck. She wished she’d never challenged him for answers in the bedroom earlier. Wished she was still living in blissful ignorance.

Two calloused hands came to frame her face and Nesta couldn’t find the will to shake them off. Couldn’t.

“Nesta,” Cassian rasped.

Nesta managed to shake her head. Go away. Please.

Cassian’s expression broke even as it remained still. Nesta didn’t understand how, but it did. It was something behind his eyes—the faint flicker of his eyebrows as they dipped in and out of a frown.

But Cassian didn’t drop his hands from her cheeks, as if he knew she didn’t really want him to leave her. Brushed his thumbs over her cheeks—wiping away the tracks of fury that had fallen from the corners of her eyes.

“Do you want me or not?” Cassian asked quietly, after a long while. His eyes searched into her silver eyes—pierced her soul. Flames danced in the reflection of his irises. And Nesta knew that this was taking everything for him to ask it out loud. “Do you want me, Nesta?”

Run, run, run, the Cauldron mused in Nesta’s head, as it cast that sleepy eye on her.

Nesta shrugged out of Cassian’s embrace. Her movements were syrupy, as if the air around her had thickened, but still she managed to turn. Her entire body was shaking—whether it was from that leftover rage, or because her heart was breaking, Nesta wasn’t sure.

A sob heaved through her body but Nesta caught it before she made a sound. She couldn’t let Cassian see it. Couldn’t let him know how much she was affected by him.

Slowly, Nesta walked to the cottage. She was still coated in Cassian’s magic, his scent on her tongue both divine and hellish. And that alone made her want to cry even more. It served as a reminder that she was constantly at war with herself. This battle that had been thrust upon her, chaining her free will and making her question everything.

“Leave me alone,” Nesta ordered flatly, without looking behind her.

Nesta didn’t know why she expected Cassian to stay. To fight. But the sound of beating wings filled Nesta’s ears just as she reached the backdoor. It felt as if someone had closed a fist around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until the blood ran dry and veins popped under the pressure.

Frawley was waiting at the threshold, her expression grim. The witch held the door open in invitation.

But Nesta paused. Turned back to the paddock.

Cassian was gone.

Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @valkyriesupremacy @vidalinav @onceupona-chaos @inardour @thesunremembersyourface @teagoddess99 @ellies-iced-coffee @nehemikkele @misswonderflower @nessiantrashh @kawaiteacup

#acosf #acotar #nessian #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #embersandlightfic #nessianfic #acomaf #acowar #duskandstarlightwrites #nessian fic #nessian angst

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catt-nuevenor · 3 years

Note

Hello 😍 , ros reaction to very sick and in pain mc?( you say there's angst so I want a sample if you don't mind of course 😘).

Okay, this is going to be a heavy one, though I shall try to avoid lingering on the symptoms. I'm sure most of you are here for the angst and fluff, not a crash course in Historical Epidemics.

But do take this as your warning, if you have dealt with severe illness recently, experiencing it as patient, or carer, or bystander, please do consider carefully reading through the react. I want everyone to enjoy their time on this blog, not to unnecessarily relive traumas.

I've selected Sweating Sickness as the malady in question. Mostly due to it's prevalence in rural communities, its rapid onset and culmination (you live or you succumb after typically one day of the onset of symptoms), its questioned transmissibility between humans (some modern theories think it was an exterior infection that could not be passed on through contact alone), and it's lack of grotesque symptoms.

So, context: The MC has come down with Sweating Sickness, the RO has been tasked with attending them through the night by Erda. By this stage the RO and MC are a exclusive couple. The Child is being kept away for their own safety.

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

MC felt so small in their arms. Quivering like the last leaf on the bough, their hands clutched desperately over P's.

"I'm right here." They soothed, holding their bodies together, rocking them both steadily back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere."

MC whimpered. "Please... please..."

Burying the agonised expression of their face in the burning skin of MC's shoulder, P tried as best they could to suppress the sob that threatened them.

"I'm here." They repeated, their voice wavering as a convulsion made the soul in their arms jerk and writhe.

They called for them. Their voice so fragile, yet so desperate for comfort it tore into P's soul.

"I'm here. MC, my darling, I'm right here."

But their darling couldn't hear them. No matter how often they said it, no matter how they might plead, might beg to be heard through the terrible delirium that brutalised them, MC never seemed to hear a word.

When they started to weep, P could not stem the tide of their own tears.

It would be over by the morning. In either the best of ways, or the ways in which P could not bear to think of, this horror would be over by sunrise. Erda had wanted to stay with them, but with another four cases of the same terrible malady spread throughout the town, she was forced to leave them in P's care.

The bitterness of the word made them want to vomit.

Care.

What care could they provide in the face of this? Nothing they did seemed in any way to help, nothing alleviated their suffering. Their own helplessness disgusted them.

"Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

P clutched their quaking frame as close to their own body as they could. Even if MC could hear them, perhaps they could still feel that they were there.

"You're not alone." They whispered, kissing the sweat slicked skin with pale lips that shook. "I'm here darling, and I'll stay here... until the end."

L was the wrong person for this.

They just were.

No ifs, no buts.

Anybody, ANYBODY, would have been better than them.

"Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

Sure, L groaned silently, pressing their tear stained cheeks into their hands. Easy for the top Cunningwoman in the county to say.

It had been awful.

The screams still rang in their ears. MC's screams. Those terrible, torn wails that ripped their sound from them. And what had L done? They hid.

L hid behind fractured smiles and broken promises that it would all be over soon. Just a little more, just a little longer.

"Just hold on."

"You just need to get through tonight."

"It'll all be better tomorrow, just stay with me, okay?"

They muffled their cry of frustration as best they could, biting into their own palm to suffocate the emotional torment with the physical sting.

Just!?

There was no just about it. This wasn't just a sniffle, or just a bit of bad food. This could kill them.

Is that what Erda meant when she said 'the worst of it'?

L was there so MC wouldn't be alone when they died?

"L?"

The blankets shifted a little as MC shifted in their fractured sleep, curling closer into the warmth of L's stomach, weakly nuzzling at the spot just above their belly button.

MC had succumbed to the exhaustion of their body a few hours after the delirium had peaked. Collapsing into L, slumping, boneless, and limp until their heavy head came to rest upon their trembling lap.

Fresh tears scoured their cheeks as MC whimpered softly, tormented by fevered horrors L couldn't protect them from. Gentling their movements, parting their fingers, they tentatively reached down and traced their fingertips over their partner's burning cheek.

"Please..." They whispered, heart fluttering as MC turned weakly into their touch. There were so many things they wanted to ask, so many things they would readily beg for.

But MC couldn't hear them. Anything L could say felt pointless when the one person they wanted to hear, was so out of reach.

Instead, bending low to lightly touch their foreheads together, L only said a single word.

"Please."

It was always going to be bad. A knew this. They knew what Sweating Sickness did to people, they knew how it made the sufferer twist and writhe, how it turned the sensation of their own skin into the prickle of a thousand barbed needles, how it either passed or killed the victim in a day.

All of this and more he'd learnt from Erda's books, page after page of symptoms and remedies, always underlined with the brutal truth that no amount of craft could cure everyone. They should have been ready for this.

All the theoretical knowledge in the world could never have prepared them for what it was to see MC like this. Erda had offered to tend to them in their place, they could go and support the other families in town laid low.

No. As much as it shattered his, to watch them at the mercies of a pestilence without pity, A knew they had to stay with MC.

The first few hours passed as they knew they would, with confusion, pain, and a deep aching weariness which made MC's limbs lead. They settled on the bed, A's arms cradling their lover's body as the waves of crashing chills rolled over them. The discomfort could be eased, the warmth of their embrace could chase away the worst of the cold, and speaking softly, A could still whisper sweetly into MC's ear, keeping the spectres of delirium away.

There was no comfort to be given when the true onslaught began. A could only hold them, and try to keep their own desperate sobs from choking them. Nothing could have prepared them for their helplessness.

It lasted for most of the night, until MC's body collapsed in upon itself and they succumbed to a deep yet fitful sleep.

A watched the rise and fall of their chest desperately, their pulse leaping every time a breath came too slowly, or sped into breathless wheezing gasps. They counted, every time MC whimpered, every time their features contorted into terror, every time they seemed to blindly reach out for the comfort of A's waiting embrace.

For every terrible suffering, A would find a way to show MC how much they adored them, once they woke, once they were well again.

It was an utterly foolish thing to promise. Erda would have scolded them. Or perhaps she would smile in sombre understanding.

A placed their hand over MC's heart, felt the irregular beat pulsing beneath their fingertips.

"I won't let you die." They whispered. "I promise, I won't let you die."

K could understand their protests. They knew nothing of sickness. Had the affliction been one that could be nursed, they may have stepped aside to let Erda or A attend MC. It was not. So, K stayed with their efenhlytta.

It was strange at first. As they watched MC's sanity began to slip. The odd word as they spoke, an erratic flick of their gaze to the empty air beside them. Then their words faltered, sticking to their tongue thickly as MC's hands began to tremble.

"Sorry." Their efenhlytta gasped when K moved to embrace them. "It's... I can feel..."

With sharp jerks they stabbed their fingers into the already sweating skin, moving rapidly in attempt to explain the sensation.

K had no context for the irritation, but they knew pain. Every living creature knew pain.

MC's skin began to swelter, the heat rising up from a ravenous flame that seemed devoted to their destruction. Perhaps in this one regard K could help where all others could not.

On a slow outward breath they let the warmth of their own blood ease away, letting the cool tide return in it's wake. The unnatural chill took the bite from the fever, and though MC still lashed out, driven to fight the demons of the fever, they were not made to suffer their terrible fire.

"I forbid you to die." K said, while their efenhlytta thrashed once again in their supple embrace.

It was clear MC couldn't hear them, but K wasn't really talking to the part of them that could listen. What they addressed was deeper, behind the consciousness that fronted MC's being.

"Do you hear me?" They hissed, fixing their ice blue eyes on a single point in seemingly empty air.

"I forbid you to die."

Extra material:

Just in case folks were interested in historical context, below I’ve linked my source material for a contempary description of the sickness.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/42686/42686-h/42686-h.htm

pg.241 C.Creighton 1891 "A History of Epidemics in Britain"

Dr Forrestier 1485

"...This sickness cometh with a grete swetyng and stynkyng, with rednesse of the face and of all the body, and a contynual thurst, with a grete hete and hedache because of the fumes and venoms.....pricking the brains,... some appear red and yellow, as we have seen many, and in two grete ladies that we saw, the which were sick in all their bodies and they felt grete pricking in their bodies. And some had black spots, as it appeared in our frere (?) Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!”

Modern English Translation:

"This sickness comes with a great sweating and stinking, with redness of the face and of all the body, and a continual thirst, with a great heat and headache because due to the fumes and venoms... with a prickling sensation seeming to come from inside the skull... some appear red and yellow in pallor, we witnessed such in two noble ladies, both of whom were severely sick and who also felt great pricking in their bodies. Some of the infected had black spots across their skin, as it appeared in our fair Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!"

#MyrkMire #reacts #interactive fiction #hosted games #choice of games

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babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Text

Healing

Marvel | Thorki

For prompt: It is right after ragnarok happened, Thor and Loki are on the ship, when Thor notices something is off with Loki.

Rating: Gen

Thor stepped lightly through the hull of the ship. Loki sat with his back to him, quietly muttering to himself. Thor wasn't sure what he was doing or why he kept hiding like this, but he hoped for once he could be the one to sneak up on his brother. He reached out a hand, satisfied when it landed on Loki's solid shoulder rather than passing through. Loki jumped.

"Loki? What are you-" He stopped. His brother's gaze was frightened, but beyond that was the state of his skin. His arms were covered in terrible burns. A line of burned skin marred one side of his neck all the way up to his jaw. "You're hurt," he realized.

Loki scoffed. "It's nothing. I have suffered far worse."

Thor's stomach dropped. That was far from the reassurance it was meant to be. Assuming Loki meant any kindness toward him at all.

"Brother," Thor gently squeezed his shoulder. "Did this happen during the battle? You should have been treated immediately."

"Surtur was a bit of a rascal to summon," he laughed. "As I said. It's nothing."

"You shouldn't have hid this from me." It made sense that he would, though. Thor understood that. Why should Loki trust him? He should have taken better care of him. "Why haven't you healed yourself?"

Loki turned his face away. "I said I'm fine," he snapped.

"You're exhausted from fighting. Let me help you."

"What can you do but make it worse?" Loki snapped.

Thor took a deep breath. He deserved that. Every barb Loki threw at him was well deserved. He'd been a terrible brother. Terrible in general. They always ended up fighting and that wasn't what Thor wanted. Not ever.

"Come here." Thor scooped him up into his arms.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" Loki pushed against him, but even physically he was exhausted. A kitten would have had a better chance of escaping.

He laid Loki down on the that was bed tucked against the wall and he curled up beside him so he was nestled between him and wall. Loki huffed and turned his head away but he was blushing.

"I'm not a child. I don't need to be cuddled."

Thor smiled. "No, but you want to be. You need to rest so you can heal."

"It'll be ages before I'm strong enough." He clearly meant to sound argumentative, but his voice trembled. He was afraid.

"You are strong enough." Thor pushed his dark hair back from his face. "I am here with you. You're safe."

Loki's fingers wrapped around his wrist, but he didn't try to push him away. "I should be able to to something as simple as this."

"You can, Loki. I know you can. You don't have to rely on yourself alone. You have me. My strength is yours."

"I can't do it."

"Yes you can. Try. Let me help you."

Loki rolled his eyes, but then he let them fall shut to concentrate. Thor laid his hand over his chest where he could feel the steady beat of his heart. Some of the redness began to receded from his skin.

"You're doing beautifully, brother. Keep going." He watched his face, lips pressed tightly together, eyes moving beneath his lips. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. The burn on his neck seem to shrink, drawing away from his jaw.

"That's it. You're doing well," he whispered. "Just a little more. You can do it."

The marks on his neck disappeared. The burns on his arms were next, shrinking slowly down. "That's perfect, Loki. You're perfect. So strong." He held his hand until the last of the burns disappeared. Loki let out a small sob and Thor wrapped him in his arms, holding him to his chest.

"Well done, brother. Feel better?"

Loki nodded. He blinked up at him and his eyes grew heavy. Then they fluttered shut and Loki fell asleep. Thor held him tightly.

"I won't let this happen to you again, brother. I swear it. And I'll swear it again to you when you wake."

He let Loki sleep, curled against him. His hand gently stroked his back. He kept him wrapped up there until Loki began to stir many hours later.

#marvel #prompt fill #thorki #hurt/comfort

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godofplumsandthunder · 3 years

Text

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look.

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.”

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that?

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer.

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand.

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you.

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic.

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer.

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.”

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.”

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love.

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.”

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace.

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made.

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying.

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand.

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time.

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time.

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.”

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.”

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

#eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #cancer #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #oneshot

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satendou · 4 years

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hiii!!!!!!! can i request a scenario where tendou (+ bokuto if u want!! if not that’s fine) seem to only say they love reader during sex and it’s making the reader really insecure and unsure if the relationship is serious or not. i love ur writing!!! seriously i’ve read monster at least five times ❤️❤️

as if i wouldn’t do poly if you give me the option. if you give me an opening i will take it don’t test me. i don’t think i filled out the exact requirements of your request but this is what i came up with so

༶•┈┈ 𐐪 ┈♛ ♛┈ 𐑂 ┈┈•༶

↠ requests open | rules

↠ masterlist

༶•┈┈ 𐐪 ┈♛ ♛┈ 𐑂 ┈┈•༶

↠ includes: bokuto, tendo

↠ warnings: angst, fluff

❀ུ۪ they probably don’t even realize what they’re doing honestly. like tendo is better at physical expressions of affection just because he’s afraid of how verbal ones will be received. it stems from telling people about his feelings for them and watching the disgust on their face afterwards. physical expressions are clearcut and you have to be willing to receive them, so there’s less chance that he’ll be rejected because he reads physical tells very easily. ❀ུ۪ bokuto, i hate to say it, literally just doesn’t think about it. if you say you love him, it’s got to be just that, with no other add ons because he’ll lock onto the additions and forget to respond. sorry bo. ❀ུ۪ tendo figures out something is wrong first, obviously. since he can’t quite figure out what it is, though, he doesn’t say anything and just watches for a while. ❀ུ۪ bokuto doesn’t take long to figure it out either tho. when he asks what’s wrong, he’ll take your reassurances at face value for a little while, but when your mood doesn’t change, he’ll start to realize it isn’t nothing after all. he’s not as tactful as tendo about approaching it tho.

you tried to ignore it, really you did. they probably didn’t mean to do it, especially tendo. he wasn’t used to affection in general, so when you expressed that you loved him, he would often draw you into a tender kiss but never say it back.

in bokuto’s case, you just chalked it up to him forgetting. which, when you actually thought about it, only made you more insecure whenever he was hovering over you in bed. the only time he said it was when his hips were rutting into yours, the words a harsh grunt as he pleasured the both of you.

“babe?” tendo asked, resting his hand atop yours. he watched you jump and give him quick smile, not meeting his eyes. “what’s going on?”

you stilled, hand curling into a fist on your thigh beneath the table. you knew better than to lie to him, knew you would never get away with it, but still you said, “nothing. i’m fine.”

you didn’t ask him why.

sharing a glance with bokuto, tendo realized even he noticed your strange behavior, his yellow eyes narrowed with concern as he stared at you.

“no, there’s definitely something,” bokuto said, and tendo wanted to facepalm as you stood up.

you couldn’t even muster the energy to pretend today, gazing out the restaurant window with a distant expression. “i, uh, need the bathroom. i’ll be right back.”

you couldn’t bring yourself to look into the mirror, afraid seeing yourself would make you cry. you were already having a hard enough time holding back tears today, the fear and insecurity especially prevalent as you tried to have lunch with them. every little thing, from an overlooked comment to each whisper shared between them across the table, felt like a barb in your skin, sinking in and causing another negative thought to surface.

you weren’t sure if you could keep the facade up any longer, knowing you needed to just talk to them about it. surely they would understand.

they were waiting for you at the register when you emerged, sharp eyes following your movements through the crowd. you were shrunken in on yourself, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your side as if to hide yourself from something. when you came to stand beside them, your gaze remained locked on the window, watching the people pass by outside.

“let’s go home, hm?” tendo asked, staring down at you while bo led the way through the tables.

the bell dinged above the door and you were hit with the cool fall air, each of your hands being taken in one of your partner’s, though your grip was loose around their fingers. they tried to fill the silence for you, but it fell flat whenever you hummed in response instead of saying anything, eyes locked on anything but them. there was a flare of guilt in your chest, settling like a rock in your stomach when you caught a glimpse of bokuto’s hurt expression, his shoulders slumped when you didn’t laugh at one of his jokes.

you really needed to talk to them, but as the key to your apartment slid into the lock, your heart slammed in your chest. you didn’t even know how to bring it up, how to articulate your worries, and there was the very real fear that bringing it up would cause truths you didn’t want to know to come to light.

maybe they really didn’t love you and only kept you around out of pity, or maybe they had fallen out of love with you before they ever got a chance to say the words-- those thoughts settled like ice in your veins.

the door shut behind tendo, the silence inside the apartment was tense as they stared down at you. you felt like you were under a microscope and you knew it was well deserved. they were hurting just as much as you and, by saying nothing, you were all hurting each other.

“tell us what’s going on in that pretty little head, princess,” tendo cooed, turning you around and drawing you into his arms. he had shed his hoodie, and his t-shirt did nothing to muffle the sob that broke out against his chest.

whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that.

bokuto was on you in an instant, wrapping his arms around both you and tendo and cocooning you in a warmth that would have been comforting a few months ago, but was now stifling. still, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, because it would mean looking them in the eyes as you asked the dreaded question.

“do you love me?”

they took a moment to understand what you meant, your voice thick and hoarse as tears streamed down your cheeks, and it felt for a moment like the room rocked-- at least for tendo.

all those whispered ‘i love you’s’ came back to haunt him as he realized his response wasn’t enough for you. he should have known as much when they stopped coming, but he had ignored it.

bokuto took longer to get what you meant, returning tendo’s stunned, understanding look with a quizzical one, one brow raised.

tendo forced your head up to look at him, cupping your tear stained cheeks in his long spidery fingers, and said, “of course i do. i love you so much it hurts. i don’t even know how to express how much i love you, sweetheart.”

your eyes widened at the conviction, fresh tears spilling down and pooling between his fingers and your skin. you had only heard him speak that passionately about volleyball and manga, and never had he looked so serious before. you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your blurry vision as he leaned in, covering your lips with his.

it was about that time that bokuto finally fitted the missing puzzle piece and bent nearly in half, nuzzling your cheek and littering kisses on your skin. his heart hurt seeing you so torn up over the whole thing-- he knew for a fact it was a big misunderstanding. you had never heard the way he and tendo talked about you when you weren’t listening, but he realized now maybe you should.

“baby, ‘m sorry,” he murmured into your ear. tendo pulled away, allowing bokuto to spin you around to face him. his hands were larger and more callused than tendo’s when he cupped your face, making sure you continued to look at him as he spoke. “i love you too. so much. i love you more than volleyball and-- and barbecue and--”

he paused, and tendo piped up. “volleyball?”

bokuto shot him a sharp look but couldn’t quite hide the amusement, causing tendo’s lips to curl up at the corners.

you hid your face in bokuto’s chest then, letting tears spill anew as the weight in your chest disappeared, allowing you to breathe freely again. through shuddery breaths, you said, “‘m sorry i didn’t say anything sooner. i thought-- i thought i was just being silly.”

tendo’s arms covered yours around bokuto’s back, his head resting atop yours as he said, “we’re sorry too, princess. we should have said it back. i guess we just... it doesn’t matter. we won’t let you down again, ‘kay?”

“okay,” you murmured, looking up into bo’s bright yellow eyes.

before you could think, his lips had captured yours, prying your lips apart so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. you felt yourself being lifted up off the floor, tendo’s laugh rumbling against your back as he said, “you beat me to it, ko. wanna show her how much we love her?”

bokuto pulled away to look at him over your shoulder, lips shiny and swollen from the kiss.

“oh yeah, i think she deserves that, don’t you?”

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↠ taglist: @sluttony, @visaintes, @yunhosblackgf, @super-noya, @byebyes-world, @newfriendjen, @atsunakaashi

#bokuto x reader #tendo x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #kotaro bokuto x reader #tendo satori x reader #satori tendo x reader #bokuto x reader x tendo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #filled hq request

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red-jaebyrd · 3 years

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Best of you

Part one - Fight or Flight

This sequel fic was inspired by this post by @hood-ex. Thanks for the inspiration, Emily.

It had been a week since Dick, Damian and Jason had gotten back from the Fortress of Solitude. Fourteen days since Bruce had shipped them off to the Fortress to recover from their injuries. Fifteen days since Bane had beat up each of them within an inch of their life and hung them by their necks in the Cave.

Once the boys had made it to the Manor and into their own familiar surroundings they had remained in each other’s sights. Neither of them ever leaving the other alone, they were completely attentive to one another. No one had questioned it or commented on it. Even if they had, Dick didn’t care. Both of his brothers needed him and he was going to be there for them in any way he was capable.

Jason had moved back into the Manor temporarily. He told Dick it was just until Damian started to feel safe again. But Dick knew Jason needed to be around them too.

Dick knew it was just an excuse to stay in close proximity to them. He didn’t call Jason out on it, because truthfully, he liked having Jason around. He liked knowing that Jason was close and safe with them, instead of somewhere outside Gotham in a safehouse alone.

Dick’s concern for Damian increased within their first week back at the Manor. Damian had always practiced hypervigilance when it came to his surroundings whether he was on patrol or in the Manor. It had been part of his training with the League and in turn had become a part of his personality. But ever since the incident with Bane and the hanging, Damian’s hypervigilance had morphed into paranoia. He always insisted on triple checking every room he entered and was jumpy to the touch.

After the first week back Dick and Jason had eased his burden by taking on the first and third room checks. This helped some, but Damian still flinched with every hand on his shoulder or back.

The three of them weren’t on patrol duty yet as Bruce had benched them for three weeks to heal from their injuries. Dick played Cruise Director by organizing activities for both himself and Damian leaving room for Jason to tag along, which he often did. Dick made sure to schedule in exercise to keep their muscles conditioned and downtime either in the library or the media room.

Lately much of their evenings were spent together in the media room watching a movie. On movie nights Dick and Damian always sat together on the couch in the center. Alfred the cat and Ace the dog would always follow them into the room to provide their own brand of comfort. Jason preferred to sit in the back of the room where he could keep a close watch on his brothers and the closest exit. He had even brought in a small table to use as a gun cleaning station.

On movie nights Damian had always fallen asleep first. It wasn’t surprising considering the dark circles under his eyes and his quiet demeanor. The teen hadn’t been getting much sleep at night since they had gotten back from the Fortress. On their first night back Dick had been ripped out of a deep sleep to the sounds of screaming and crying coming from Damian’s room. Adrenaline had torn through Dick’s chest as he frantically rushed to reach his little brother’s room.

The sight of his little brother clawing at this neck and gasping for air had ripped Dick’s heart apart. It had been a sight he had hoped he would never have to see again. Instinctually Dick had climbed into the bed and held Damian close to him whispering reassurances into the young teen’s ear. Damian’s whole body trembled as he clung to Dick like a life line until his sobs turned into hiccups. Dick had finally allowed the adrenaline crash to overtake his body forcing him to curl up in the bed with Damian and fall back to sleep.

After that night Dick had suggested that Damian sleep in his room. He had expected Damian to put up a fight; argue staunchly that he wasn’t a child who needed the comfort of an adult after a bad dream; that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. However, to Dick’s surprise, Damian hadn’t the energy to argue. Instead, had just nodded, grabbed his duvet off his bed and followed Dick into his bedroom.

They didn’t tell Bruce or Alfred about the nightmares. Damian had made them promise. But Dick knew that Bruce could hear the screaming too.

Dick knew that if there was ever going to be any healing from this incident, especially with Damian, they all needed to talk about what had happened to them. Of course that was easier said than done. Dick knew better than to think that the other two would go for it. Jason would stop coming around to avoid sharing his feelings and Damian would shut down and refuse to talk. Ideally Dick would need to be the one to initiate the conversation to get them to open up.

Truthfully, deep down Dick didn’t want to talk about what had happened to him either, but he knew he had to for Damian’s sake. The boy was spiraling quickly before his eyes, turning into someone Dick didn’t recognize and it was starting to scare him. Dick had to do something even if it involved dredging up old memories of a time in his life he would like to stay buried and forget.

Except Dick couldn’t forget what had happened because now he had fresh rope burns to accompany the old scars from the last time a rope was fastened around his neck. Thanks to Bane those old memories that had once been buried were now fresh and new every time he closed his eyes to go to sleep. Old triggers Dick once had under control were now at the forefront of his mind eliminating any progress he had made in the last three years to overcome them.

Dick had just started wearing scarves again this past winter. He had missed the warm, familiar feeling of the handmade scarf Barbara had made for him all those years ago. The way the soft fabric would protect his neck from the cold onslaught of an unforgiving Gotham windchill. He loved that scarf and it was a welcome relief to be able to start wearing it again, but now that had all changed. Right now he could barely tolerate wearing a crew neck t-shirt.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Bane had one of his goons cover Dick’s nose and mouth while Bane had hung Damian first and then beat the shit out of Jason. He had made Dick watch helplessly as his brothers suffered while leaving him to slowly suffocate. Dick had started to panic when he couldn’t breathe and clawed at the meaty hand covering his nose and mouth, but the bastard had held firm. Dick’s lungs burned as he gradually lost consciousness just as Bane had strung up Jason.

No, Dick didn’t want to talk about any of this stuff with Damian and Jason. However, he knew he had to if he was going to help his brothers heal. This was another reason why he encouraged movie nights, and hoped maybe one of these nights Damian would open up.

It had been a week and Damian had barely said anything more than two word sentences to either Dick or Jason. Bruce had tried futilely to get Damian to open up to him, but soon handed the reins of communication back over to Dick. The irony of Bruce trying to get Damian to open up wasn’t lost on Dick. The more Bruce pushed Damian to talk, the more Damian shut down further frustrating Dick.

Dick was positive that on one of their movie nights Damian would eventually open up. He wasn’t rushing it, but Dick had hoped that Damian would start to feel relaxed and comfortable enough to talk; and to Dick’s surprise it had worked.

“I never did have the tolerance to withstand the chokeholds from my trainers,” Damian muttered completely out of the blue one night. He kept his eyes on the TV screen and his hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap.

“You’re not…” Dick cleared his throat, nearly choking on his soda. “…you’re not supposed to have a tolerance to strangulation, Dami.”

“I am. It was part of my training and the only skill I couldn’t perfect,” Damian continued, pulling at the collar of this shirt. “One time Mother had a trainer hang me with a rope. It was so tight it dug into my neck and I panicked like I always did when something was round my neck,” Damian choked out a sob at the last word. “I asked her to call it off, to make him stop but she ignored me. I eventually blacked out. I woke up in my chambers with rope burns around my neck and a migraine. She said I was a failure; that tears and whinging was a sign of weakness; and therefore a disgrace to the Al Ghul legacy.”

Dick put his arm around Damian. He could sense where this conversation was going; that there was some unresolved guilt for actions Damian was incapable of stopping that horrible night. The boy turned into the embrace leaning into Dick’s chest.

“You are not a failure, Lil’ D. There is nothing you could’ve done to have stopped what had happened to us.”

“I was trained to be the best, Richard,” Damian insisted, gripping Dick’s shirt. “I can fight blindfolded. I can manipulate my organs to avoid major injury, I can even hold my breath for six minutes, but I could never stand to have anything around my neck obstructing my airway. I was not good enough.”

“You are the best at everything you do, Dames,” Dick comforted, kissing the top of Damian’s head. “Your mother’s standards don’t matter here.”

They watched more of the movie in silence. All that could be heard was Damian sniffling and the occasional thud of Jason cleaning his guns.

“I used to get nightmares about it. Feeling the rope tightening around my neck and not being able to breathe,” Damian confessed, tugging at the collar of his shirt again. “Now the nightmares are back and I cannot get them to stop.”

Dick’s whole body tensed at hearing Damian recall the feeling of the rope around his neck. His palms started to get clammy as he remembered Super Woman’s barbed lasso tightening around his own neck as he struggled to breathe and stay conscious. Dick still had the scars from the barbs sinking into his skin. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now was likely a good time as any to share what had happened to him.

“Me too, kiddo. I get it, but talking about what happened helps. For me that…that wasn’t the first time I had rope tied around my neck either,” Dick shared, rubbing his hands nervously along his thighs. “There was an incident with the Crime Syndicate a few years back. Super Woman, an evil, twisted version of Wonder Woman had a lasso; she called it the ‘The Lasso of Submission’. It stung and burned when she tightened it around my neck.”

Ace climbed up on the couch next to Dick. Sensing Dick’s distress, he put his head in Dick’s lap. Dick welcomed the added weight of the dog and dug his hands into Ace’s fur. The sensation helped to ground Dick so he could continue.

“It wasn’t an ordinary lasso. It not only had the power to make its subject submit to the wielder’s will it also had magical barbs that sunk into skin and held the lasso in place,” Dick pulled down his shirt collar to reveal old white faded scars that peppered along his neck among the healing rope burns from two weeks ago.

Damian’s eyes widened at the sight of Dick’s neck.

“I couldn’t wear scarves for three years and I still can’t wear turtlenecks,” Dick confessed, righting his shirt collar.

“Turtlenecks make you look like a douche…no offense,” Jason chimed in from behind them.

“Thank you for the fashion tip, Jason,” Dick sighed, craning his neck to address Jason.

“Anytime, Dickie,” Jason replied, not taking his eyes off the task of cleaning his guns.

Dick turned his attention back onto Damian.

“Thank you for talking to me about what has been bothering you,” Dick whispered, squeezing Damian into a sideways hug. “I know it wasn’t easy, but talking it out helps to get the bad stuff out of our heads.”

Damian shook his head.

“Talking about my past with the League serves no purpose other than to showcase my weakness and my inability to maintain control over my emotions. Complaining about past events that I cannot change feels futile and pathetic,” Damian said, his voice cracking at the last word. “However, lately those past experiences are all I can think about since the incident with Bane in the Cave.”

“Talking about difficult experiences and working through the trauma caused by those experiences is not a sign of weakness, Dames,” Dick comforted, keeping his arm around Damian and leaning his cheek on top of Damian’s head. “It takes a lot of strength to admit that you need help and the support of your family to help you through this time. I’m always here to listen and help you in any way I can. Okay?”

“Okay,” Damian replied, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Silence fell between the brothers again while the rest of the movie played on. It had surprised Dick that Damian would bring up something so personal about himself in front of Jason. Still Dick was proud of Damian for opening up. It had only seemed fair that Dick reciprocated with his own fears and nightmares. Perhaps it would help encourage Damian to open up more with him in the future.

“Is the kid asleep?” Jason asked, making his way to the couch.

Dick looked over and could see the slow rhythmic motion of Damian’s chest rise and fall as his breaths came in deep and even. He could also hear the soft sounds of snoring and feel Damian’s body completely boneless leaning against him.

“Yes,” Dick answered, feeling the shift of the couch as Jason sat down next to him and Ace.

“It’s good that the kid has you to talk to about this,” Jason said, gently petting Ace’s head. “Lord knows he’s not going to talk about this shit with Bruce.”

“You have me too, Jason,” Dick assured, nudging his elbow against Jason’s ribs.

“I know, Dickie,” Jason answered, grabbing the Blu-ray remote and thumbing through the main menu.

“Do you want to talk?” Dick asked.

“No,” Jason answered, keeping his eyes focused on the TV.

Dick nodded. Jason would open up when he felt like it. At least Dick hoped Jason would one day talk to him about the hanging and how it was affecting him. Dick wondered if that was why Jason had asked if Damian was asleep.

“Did – did the League train you –,“ Dick asked, motioning to his throat. “-for that too?”

Jason looked at him with blank eyes but Dick could see the muscles working in Jason’s jaw. Jason turned his attention back to TV as he continued to fiddle around with the main menu options until he found the ‘Special Features’ menu.

“No, but Willis always liked going for the neck,” Jason responded candidly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you didn’t do it,” Jason retorted.

“No, but, I’m still sorry that happened to you,” Dick empathized.

Jason kept his focus on the TV and swallowed thickly.

“I was supposed to wake him up so he could leave in time for a job. ‘7’clock sharp you little shit, or we don’t eat for a week,’” Jason’s lip curled in disgust retelling his story. “He was out cold and wouldn’t wake up. I had to get on top of him and shake him. He woke up in a rage and I wasn’t fast enough to get out of his way. He grabbed me by the neck and squeezed hard until I saw spots.”

Jason paused to pick at a loose thread on the arm of the couch. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I remember clawing and scratching at his hand to get him to let go. It only pissed him off and made him squeeze harder. He finally let go when Mom hit him over the head with a frying pan. Never woke him up after that day, but it didn’t matter. He always went for my neck.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to Jason, which was rare considering Dick always knew what to say to everyone. He knew Jason’s dad was an abusive drunk. Jason never talked about his time with his parents before coming to the Manor only vague stories of his experience living on the streets. This was the first time Jason had ever opened up about his dad. It was probably better to just state the obvious since empathizing only pissed Jason off.

“Your dad was an asshole for doing that to you,” Dick said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah well, others have done much worse,” Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dick didn’t need to be reminded. He lived with the guilt every day that he wasn’t there to protect Jason from the “much worse” and the guilt only grew in intensity as he glanced at the angry red rope burns on Jason’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick mumbled, his bottom lip trembling.

“Why do you keep apologizing? It’s fucking annoying. You didn’t do anything,” Jason snapped.

“Exactly, I didn’t do a fucking thing the whole time that asshole beat the shit out of you and Damian,” Dick blurted, glancing at Damian’s sleeping form. The sleeping boy stirred and shifted his position away from Dick to lean against the couch arm. Dick lightly carded his fingers through Damian’s hair.

“I didn’t do anything but watch as he strung up both of you in the Cave by your necks,” Dick continued, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. Ace whined and put his head back in Dick’s lap.

Jason turned sideways on the couch so he was facing Dick and gently placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. The contact was welcome, but Dick didn’t feel like he deserved it.

“Stop, Dick, is this about Bane? You couldn’t do anything. I don’t – do you think we blame you for what happened?” Jason asked, tilting his head to get Dick to look at him. “This wasn’t your fault. Why are you shouldering this?”

Dick choked out a sob before catching himself. One hand reflexively reaching into Ace’s fur, with the other he scrubbed the wetness from his eyes with his sleeve.

“I couldn’t protect you – again,” Dick muttered, tears streaming down his face. “It’s my job to protect my brothers, all my brothers. I couldn’t do that for you or Dam –“

“- because that Motherfucker had his goons restraining and smothering you,” Jason interrupted. “Bane knew it would fuck you up to have to watch.”

It was true. Bane was a genius when it came to mentally and physically breaking his adversaries. He knew he could destroy Dick just by having him watch Damian and Jason get hurt. And by all accounts Bane achieved his objective. As much as he tried, Dick couldn’t get the images of his brothers’ bruised faces and beaten bodies out of his brain. Not to mention the guilt of being unable to do anything to stop it was eating him alive.

“I know you want to protect us, Dick. I know you wanted to be there for Tim. We all did, but even you have your limits,” Jason continued. “You can’t shield us from everything. Shit happens with this life and this job. We signed up for this. We chose as a team to defy the Bat and go after Bane. How were we to know we’d be walking into an ambush? Fucker’s a menace.”

Dick shook his head and clenched his jaw.

“I know what we signed up for,” Dick countered, pointing at his own neck. “I have all the scars to prove it. But I didn’t sign up to not feel safe in my own home. I didn’t sign up to hear my youngest brother screaming every night from a nightmare, clawing at his neck and gasping for air.”

Or see that my other brother is unable to go to sleep by himself without all the lights on. Dick kept that last statement to himself.

“I didn’t sign up for that,” Dick repeated, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, leaning his head back on the couch and blowing out a breath.

“I’ve never heard you talk about the Crime Syndicate before,” Jason said, changing the subject. “Was that – was that the first time you told anyone what had happened to you?”

Dick nodded and curled in on himself. It wasn’t a pleasant incident to think about, much less discuss with anyone even if he considered them to be a safe person and Jason was safe. Aside from the trauma of having a barbed lasso around his neck and getting smothered to stop his heart to diffuse a bomb; there was also the shame of falling so easily into their trap and the indignity of having his identity exposed to the world. It was easier to just keep the humiliation and trauma to himself.

“I thought it would help Damian open up and – ,“ Dick answered, petting Ace with both hands. “I probably should have talked about it sooner. But –,”

“- you thought it would be easier to just keep things to yourself,” Jason said, finishing Dick’s sentence. “I get that, but Dick, I know you. You need to talk things out and you didn’t talk about this to anyone? Not even with Alfred?”

“I couldn’t –,” Dick repeated, shaking his head.

“You know you have me right? if –if you ever wanted to talk,” Jason offered.

Dick couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Jason. It must have shown on his face because Jason’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead in surprise.

“What?” Jason asked. “What did I say?”

“Jason, I know you and you hate talking about feelings and stuff,” Dick responded, tilting his head and furrowing his brow.

Jason briefly shifted his attention to the TV pointing the remote and turning it off.

“I hate talking about my feelings,” Jason gestured to himself. “But I know you need to get that shit out or you’ll explode.”

“Thanks,” Dick replied, giving Jason a small smile.

“So, do you want to talk?” Jason asked, reaching for the nearly empty bowl of popcorn sitting on the ottoman.

Dick considered the offer. It meant a lot coming from Jason. Jason didn’t offer himself like that to just anyone. Dick had overheard Jason giving Tim the same offer a few months ago. He wondered if Tim was able to take him up on that offer before – before he died. There was no doubt Dick would one day take Jason up on his offer, but not tonight.

“Rain check?” Dick asked, leaning his head against the couch and rubbing his eyes. “I’m pretty beat.”

Jason nodded. He turned the TV back on and began scrolling through Netflix. Dick closed his eyes and started to let himself drift allowing the pull of sleep to overtake him.

“Just promise me you’ll never keep shit that big to yourself again,” Jason said, breaking the silence.

Dick opened his eyes and sat up; an idea quickly coming to his head that would also benefit Jason.

“I promise, but you have to promise too,” Dick countered, holding out his hand to seal the deal.

Dick could see the wheels turning in Jason’s head. His eyes widened as he realized that Dick had just tricked him into agreeing to do the very thing he hates, talking about his feelings. Jason’s shoulders sagged.

“Fine, we have a deal,” Jason huffed, shaking Dick’s offered hand. “Don’t get any other bright ideas.”

“You know, if we wake Damian we can probably get him in on the deal too,” Dick joked.

“Don’t push it, Big Bird,” Jason said, throwing a handful of popcorn at Dick.

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zontiky · 3 years

Note

au where the apocalypse was never a threat or a concept to begin with

*cracks knuckles* now i could make this a decent upbringing au OR i could make it EXTREMELY COMPLICATED and you know me you know exactly what im about to do ;)

reginald THINKS he’s prepping them all for the apocalypse but reginald is a child-abusing FOOL and an alien BASTARD and there’s no apocalypse there never was there never will be. the world is safe and sound but the hargreeves children aren’t.

five runs away from home and gets thrown into april 1st, 2019. the world is thriving. he did it. he tries to get home but he can’t because he’s stuck and im now realizing that everyone reading this post has seen a million fics with this exact concept but FUCK YOU THIS IS MY CITY NOWWW

so he’s stuck in 2019 and he’s like ah fuck ah SHIT what now! and goes to the academy and it’s not like he was super far away from it in the first place. he didn’t even make it a mile away it’s like a 5 minute walk back home lmao

now because reggie thinks there IS an apocalypse he still killed himself and i hate him a lot so cough ahem anyway

five shows up on the mansion and expects dad to be sitting there in his office, doing his evil dad evil villain thing yk the drill

but instead he comes in to an empty house. mom is unresponsive. he cant find pogo (dont ask where pogo is. hes doing monkey butler things ok). and diego is climbing in through the window

five freaks out because WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU THIS IS MY HOUSE and jumps diego and diego goes down HARD because WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MY DEAD BROTHER?? MY BROTHER WHO DISAPPEARED 17 YEARS AGO?? WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCKKKK

so they try to beat the shit out of each other for a second and by that i mean five tries to beat the shit out of diego whos gained his senses by now and is trying to convince his brother (his BROTHER) that technically he lives here too please stop punching me

luther comes downstairs.

“IS THAT FIVE???”

“SHUT UP AND HELP ME THIS LITTLE FUCKER CAN PUNCH”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

they manage to calm him down when five catches sight of diegos tattoo

WAIT I FORGOT THAT THE FUNERAL WAS BEFORE APRIL FUCK NEVERMIND SCRAP THE PAST 13 BULLETS ABORT MISSION

so five lands in april, goes to the house, and by then the hargreeves have cleared out and are back to doing their own thing more or less. he comes up to the door and grace (pogo has fixed her by now because i said so) welcomes her son back home like he never even left

she gives him a hug

reginald is gone and she hasnt seen her sun in years and dammit, he deserves that hug okay? she gives him a hug.

five pulls away. mom hasnt hugged him for years because he stopped letting her and he’s not about to change his mind now

“where’s everyone?” he asks. he doesn’t even consider that everybody is gone, because where would they go? or maybe it just hasn’t hit him exactly which time he jumped into, maybe he still hasn’t made the connection exactly what age his siblings are now, maybe he has but he still hopes he can deny it for a little while longer

grace wants to hug him again but she refrains. she calls his siblings

one by one, in the span of the next week, she gets ahold of them and calls them back to the academy. “important news,” she says. “you’ll want to -- you’ll need to be here,” she says. “your brother,” she says, and her children listen and come back home

luther is at the academy when five gets here. because, where would he go? he can’t go back to the moon, and dad is gone, and he’s never even been on a bus alone before, where would he go?

when five sees him for the first time he almost cries, because he’s so much bigger and taller and older and what happened to him??

this is his new reality. this is the new luther

but it isn’t, it can’t be, because five is going to get back home and he’s going to fix it, he’s going to fix this and he’s going to grow up just like his siblings did, and it won’t even be long before he’s back home almost two decades ago.

vanya is next to arrive, and five almost -- almost -- smiles at her and gives her a hug and teases her how she’s still shorter than him, but she has such a blank expression on her face and the way she looks between the portrait of him (he hated that portrait from the beginning, he wanted to burn it because hes back now, isnt he? and he’ll go back home and not leave again, but pogo didnt let him) stops him. it will only be a couple of days and he’ll be going home already, he tells grace, so maybe the others dont even have to come here. she nods and smiles and says nothing

diego comes a day or so later, dragging klaus along, and five is stunned by how they look once again. diego looks battle-hardened and angry like he never did just last week, five’s last week, but now he scowls and doesn’t stutter and dresses himself in black and he lives alone and diego looks so lonely but five doesnt think about it because its not his business and he knows better and its diegos own damn fault for cutting contact, isnt it? and even if it weren’t five will go back and fix it all

five knows klaus has been doing things for a good year or so know, but this -- living on the streets, giggling even as diego forces him inside, making lewd jokes with his eyes out of focus -- he couldn’t have even imagined. he stamps down the feeling of i should have been there to help stop him and doesn’t think how sad and angry at their father seeing klaus like this makes him feel, instead he forces thoughts of it’s his own fault he ended up this way and i’m going to get back and fix this (but that’s not a thought he has to force. he will. he has to. it won’t even be another week before he figures out how to get home)

allison gets there next. she took the first plane she could get on to get home and pushed off all her appointments but she had a family emergency just last week and it was hard to get away and she looks so sad even when she opens her arms for a hug and five cant help but relent and give her one. diego scoffs and allison lets loose a dig thats more of a barb thats more of a sharp sentence splitting the air and hitting her brother square in the chest. five doesnt say anything but his stomach twists. just a week or so and he’ll fix it because even as children they never said things like that to each other

he waits for ben to come last. he must be the most adjusted of them all, right? ben read a lot last five saw of him, and hes one of the smartest of them, and secretly five always thought that ben deserves to have friends that he doesnt live with

ben doesnt come

he asks mom and she smiles and he asks the others and they look away and he asks again and someone -- and it doesnt matter who because his ears are ringing and hes stumbling back and falling onto the couch -- says that ben died. ben died years ago.

ben died four years after five left

fives head is spinning and he needs to get back, he needs to stop it he needs to fix it he needs to make it all better because it was never supposed to be this way

(you thought this would be a happy au didnt you?? haha bitch think again)

(it is but they have to get there smhhh)

klaus laughs and elbows the air next to him and five asks, he doesnt beg, he asks him if he can summon ben

everyone scoffs. rolls their eyes. klaus is high as a kite and hes holding a bottle of whiskey and he looks like he hasnt been sober in days. weeks. years. and he’s a liar and ben is gone for real, im sorry, five. i know this must be hard for you

that can’t be right. five wasnt there for all of klaus’ lies and stealing and drunken sobbing. five remembers klaus rolling a joint at the breakfast table like it was last week -- and it was, it was, he’ll fix it still, but to five klaus is still just his brother. just klaus

he asks, not begs, five doesnt beg but he comes damn close in this moment, to tell him the truth

and klaus looks around and ben whispers please, klaus, just try and five is looking at him with wet eyes and he’s thirteen he’s so young and -- he can’t say innocent. none of them have ever been innocent, not since reginald hargreeves adopted them all those years ago. but five...

he tells the truth. and five believes him

so anyway five cant get back and then they decide well ok five while youre staying here we might as well buy you some clothes. ones that arent literally 20 years old. jesus these uniforms are ugly

my jaw is clenching so hard and im cold asdflksdh so im gonna end this here and maybe rb it and continue lated idk 😳😳

WHOOP this is getting away from me i know u didnt come here for quote poetic unquote bullshit but weihfsdkjdhskf THATS WHAT UR GETTING I GUESS XX <3

#asks #ftag #five hargreeves #nopocalypse au #aus #tua #the umbrella academy #im not reading over this. all the typos are there for the Authenticity and Flavor #misc #hfhkjwjkfdsaihshf #I HOPE U LIKED IT IM OUT OF PRACTICE DOING THESE 😭😭#not!fic

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apocalypticwafflekitten · 4 years

Text

Beautiful

Darth Maul x Reader

A/N: I’ve fallen into the pit. I’m in love with Maul. I was also listening to “Marry the Night” by Lady Gaga, and this just sort of happened. So yeah. I hope y’all enjoy!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: I wrote down a line in my journal, and I thought to myself “Hey, that’s kind of a good line. Let’s use it in a fic.” And then this happened! I also just really want to comfort Maul, so here I am, living vicariously through my fics!

Warnings: This is basically semi-angsty fluff. Maul cries, but it’s okay, he’s got you!

Word Count: 2.3k. Whoops. My hand slipped!

There was nothing quite so comforting as laying under the stars and realizing that, although you may be little, you still mean something to the universe.

But tonight it was hard to see the difference made. There was no beauty in the world tonight. No comfort in the stars.

At least that’s what Maul saw.

You on the other hand, you saw beauty in everything. The world. The stars. The little cracks in the floor tiles that gave the palace character. The things anyone else would miss. You even saw beauty in him.

There was something almost naive about it, and yet you had seen so much. You’d been through hell with him, but somehow you’d managed to see the good in everything. It was baffling, but in a way, it was admirable.

Not that it was hard to admire you. No. You could so much as breathe, and his breath would hitch. Every movement you made was enough for him to go weak at the knees. The soft gleam to your eyes; the gentle tone of your voice; the graceful way you fought your battles. It was all admirable, and he was your greatest admirer.

But it was hard to admire him. A murderer, a criminal. Someone few would hesitate to call a devil. There was a time where he wouldn’t have cared. There were more important things to care about. More important things to throw his time and energy into. But sitting atop a throne all day, especially on the slow days, gives you more time to think. More time to doubt.

He lied awake tonight. Sleepless, and all but restless. His eyes were closed, but his mind was racing.

“How does she love me?”

“I’m unloveable.”

‘I mean come on. I’m a murderer. I’ve killed hundreds of people.”

“What does she see in me?”

“How does she see me?

“How can she bear the sight of me?”

There was only so much of this barrage he could take. It was all too much for his exhausted mind. He forced his eyes to open, to bottleneck the endless train of harsh truths. Or what he believed to be truths.

He sat up, and only then noticed how cold, and light the sheets felt. He looked beside him only to find an empty, cold spot where you should be laying. For a second panic struck him; prompting him to step out of bed. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have trouble sleeping. You both shared that unfortunate plight. And you, on the particularly bad nights, would often wander around the palace and find something to admire. Something to pass the time.

“No wonder she never stays with you.”

His subconscious threw at him as he stood to go look for you. He shook the thought away, leaving the cold room in hopes of finding warmer company with you.

As he passed through the halls, checking every room he came across, he heard the chime of an old grandfather clock from down stairs.

Dong...

Dong.

Three a.m. Hm. Time passes quickly in despair.

He kept walking through the halls, hearing the beginnings of a storm from outside. A faint rain sprinkled the roof more than a hundred feet above him. It would have been calming if he could sleep, or if you were with him.

It wasn’t too long until he found you though. A few hallways later, a grand staircase, and a pair of doors led him straight to you.

Tonight he found you laying on the floor in the throne room. From outside you could hear the growing thunder rumbling like an old god, and the rain pattering the roof, more aggressive now than minutes before.

“Darling? What are doing laying on the floor? And in the throne room no less? I’m sure the floor in our room is just as comfortable.” Maul asked, attempting to amuse the woman before him.

You smiled up at him with bright (Y/E/C) eyes. You were wide awake.

“I’m sure it is, but in here, if you lay on the floor, you can see the whole galaxy. Every star is right there for me to admire.” You turned your attention back to the windows, where rain fell, and clouds hid the stars.

Your responses never ceased to amaze him. You just wanted to see the stars. Such an innocent motive.

“Maybe she’s seen enough of you. The stars would be a good break. At least they’re actually beautiful.”

He had to will the insults to stop. Now wasn’t the time for self-loathing; not around (Y/N).

Maul huffed a small laugh outwardly, and smiled at his beloved.

“Well, I must say, It’s kind of hard to see the stars with all this rain.” Maul noted as he slowly kneeled down to sit beside you, trying not to make too much noise on the marble floor. His legs were clunky nonetheless, and he flinched every time they disturbed the quiet room.

“Yeah, but the rain is still beautiful to watch. It’s calming to listen to.”

There it was. That unending optimism. The hope that was sewn into your every cell. Something he quite envied for himself.

“I guess you’re right.” There was a small pause before you sat up, and looked to Maul, concern clear in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Maul almost seemed taken aback. His eyes widened in surprise.

“How could she tell?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” He mumbled, keeping his attention to the windows. He knew you knew. You always knew, and yet he still tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. It was a stubborn habit by now.

“Your shoulders are slouched, your scowl is deeper than normal, and,” You reached over to turn his face so he would look at you, “You won’t look at me.”

He leaned into your touch. Your skin was so soft and cool against his face, like a calming rain. But you weren’t wrong. He’d been avoiding your gaze since he sat down.

He sighed, contemplating whether or not to give in and explain what had been gnawing at his mind for months.

“I guess you’ve caught me.” Maul looked down, giving a nervous laugh before settling into an embarrassed silence.

You brought his eyes back to you with a gentle coo of his name.

“Maul. What’s wrong?”

The sincerity in your voice rent his heart, and your wide, concerned eyes broke his restraint. He couldn’t keep his worries from you when you looked at him like that.

“Well...I guess...” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts, “I just wonder how you could love me the way you do,” He couldn’t look at you, but from the corner of his eye, see the confusion growing in your expression, “I mean, look at me. I’m horrifying. I’m not even a whole being.”

He looked to his mechanical legs, and sighed once more.

“But that doesn’t really matter...”

You looked at Maul with despair brimming your eyes.

“But darling, you are whole. Look at you. I see a man before me whose fought his whole life to be where he is right now. You’ve come so far from where you began.” You held his hand as you spoke, noting the way he flinched when you first touched him.

“I know dear, but that’s not what I mean. Take a minute to look at me. Look at my body. You really like what you see? I’m half metal, and the half of me that isn’t, well, that’s not anything to look at either. Truly, dear, I don’t understand what you see in me. I’m hardly worthy of your love.”

You could see tears start to line his eyes as he looked down to your joined hands. You remained silent for a moment, processing what Maul had said, and that every word of it was genuine. The rain was the only thing to break the silence in the empty, echoing throne room.

“Maul,” You began quietly, gathering your thoughts until you knew what you wanted to say.

He looked up at you with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for your response.

“Look, she can’t even find words. You’re just that horrible.”

Your voice silenced the horrid barb.

“If someone offered me every star in the galaxy, I would turn them away because as beautiful as the night sky is, it’s beauty is nothing compared to you. The adoration in my eyes stales at the stars. You are the truest beauty in my eyes. You’re all I ever want to see.”

“Damn.”

Maul stared at you for a while. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“...What?” He whimpered out after a moment, and a wave of heavy, hot tears stung at his eyes.

“Maul, darling, I love the way you look. I love the red of your skin, and the shape of your face. Your tattoos are beautiful, and they tell of your culture. I love to kiss them, and trace them. Your eyes are impossible to look away from. They’re gold, but there’s just the smallest hint of hazel streaking through them. When I look at you, you become my whole world. I never want to look away from you.” You held his face with one of your hands, and he held it there with his own. “Maul, you’re beautiful.”

A beat.

“She thinks I’m beautiful?”

“No one’s ever said that to me before.”

His tears began to fall, and he didn’t try to stop them, but he did try to fight the sobs warring in the back of his throat. It didn’t last long, as they ripped themselves out. His sobs burst from his soul, and his shoulders shook violently.

You scooted closer to him, and held him in your arms.

“It’s okay dear. You’re okay.” You whispered into his ears.

You knew he wouldn’t believe you. He hated his legs, and his face. He hated himself, and it destroyed you. But at least he knew that you found him beautiful, even if he couldn’t see it in himself. You tried so hard to let Maul see himself through your eyes. You admired him. Oh your whole heart ached when you looked at him. He was your sun, and you wanted him to feel as beautiful as he was to you.

He cried into your shoulder, and he held you tighter than he ever had. He didn’t dare let you go in case you were some long, elaborate, horribly beautiful dream. He couldn’t believe you. Yes, he heard you say it. It graced his ears in beautiful chimes, but he just couldn’t get it through his head. You thought he was beautiful.

Sobs echoed through the throne room at 3:30 in the morning. Mandalore glowed under the cloudy sky, but the clouds were beginning to break, and you could see a few stars now.

There was a moment when his sobs broke, and he took a few quick deep breaths. In this moment, you took his face his your hand, and lifted it, so that his eyes met yours. His eyes were red, more red than usual, and despite his dark complection, you could clearly see the trails where his tears had fallen, and followed. He tried to look away from you, but you coaxed him back to you.

“Maul...” You cooed once more before pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back with so much love, and so much strength. He flung his heart into it. You had to know how much he loved you.

You pulled away and looked at his eyes before looking to his lips.

“And these lips. I would never wish to kiss any other lips. You’re beautiful dear, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Maul closed his eyes and hugged you tight.

“I love you.” He whispered to you, and he whispered it again and again.

“I love you.”

“I. Love. You.” He hugged even tighter, and you could feel his love wave through the force around you.

They were the only words he could think of. His only thoughts were on his unending love for you. His gratitude for your existence in his life; for everything you’d done for him through all these years. He would do anything for you. Maker, he loved you.

You pulled away from him, and he gave the smallest whimper of displeasure.

You just smiled softly at him, and placed a hand on his chest, pushing ever so slightly so that he would lay on the ground.

You lay with him, your head resting in the curve of his neck, one hand drifting upwards to trace the tattoos on his face and rub his horns.

He gave a pleased purr, and rubbed your back as you two looked back out the window.

“And look, there are all the stars, shining now that the rain is gone.” You pointed up at the glimmering stars above.

He was silent for a moment, remembering what you had said just minutes before. It all meant so much to him. How could someone give all of that up for someone like him? All of those stars and planets? That beautiful view? The power that came with it? What advantage was there? What happiness could he give you that the rest of the galaxy didn’t have to offer?

“You’d really give all of that up for me?”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but you heard the words mumbled from his chest, and your answer had no uncertainty.

“In a heartbeat.” You answered with a gentle voice.

So, on the cool floor of the Sundari Palace throne room, the two of you lay for the night, and Maul is finally starting to see his meaning to the universe. Well, to his universe at least.

Tags!

@justalittlecloud

#this is a lot longer than I expected #i really like it though #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #darth maul #star wars

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