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letarasstuff · 3 years

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"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don��t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x child!reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader

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amee-racle-ofmyown · 2 years

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31 or 58 with Saeyoung x reader? If you’re feeling like it of course :)

things you were afraid to say

it would be my pleasure! (I chose 58) for some context, this is set after the cockroach call :) it's a scene I have imagined writing for a very long time so I'm happy to take this opportunity to do so.

707/Luciel Choi/Saeyoung Choi x gender-neutral reader | Words: 1184 | prompt list

'Here, sit here. It's weird to be on the phone when we're this close. I'll hang up now.'

The chemical smell of pesticide was still lingering, ever so slightly, in the tense air. The room was filled with only your quiet sniffles, which seemed to echo and reverberate through his very soul, shaking his heart violently in his ribcage.

You felt a slight heat on your face, partly shame from letting him see you in such a state, partly a hint to the tingle of warmth you felt as he held your hands in his own, stroking gentle, calloused thumbs over your skin in an attempt to comfort you. It dawned on you that this was the closest he'd voluntarily allowed you to be to each other since he first arrived at the apartment and you couldn't help but want to savour the moment, even as you sobbed.

The cockroach had startled you, sure, but you prayed Seven wouldn't sense the bottled up emotions in the stream of your twinkling tears, feel the piled up stress in the frantic beating of your heart. The last week had given you a surplus of reasons to feel anxious, scared, frustrated… and being practically ignored by someone you'd quickly come to care for so truly, so deeply — though you got a sense for why he did it — well, it hurt.

You were tired. Tired of smiling and staying strong and positive in this situation and knowing that, though this mess spiralled deeper than you knew and had been woven far before you entered the picture (or the chatroom, if you will), it was true that you'd made a careless decision and gotten yourself into it. And your fears and problems paled in comparison to what Seven had been through. The last thing you wanted to do was add to his burden — you already felt bad for breaking down now.

It was almost funny in a way; hiding behind smiles appeared to be something you had in common.

It seemed you had only seen the tip of the iceberg, and there was so much more to this person that you were only beginning to understand; feeling cautiously along the jagged edges and the cracks in the ice for whatever else you could uncover. You were manoeuvring through chilled wind with numb limbs (oh, but your heart and your mind and your soul were rapid and awake and alive). And yet as you dipped deeper into what he claimed to be lethally icy water, you found warmth. And you couldn't quite tell now what was ice and what wasn't because your heart felt so undeniably, inexplicably warm that surely you would melt away. And so you didn't feel the cold so much.

But you were still exhausted.

And so you let him hold on to you, craving his warmth, and you clung to him like a lifeline. Ah, and he had been keeping you alive and safe throughout this entire situation ever since you entered the mysterious messenger, and it occurred to you that in this particular instance he'd rushed to your aid yet again, hastening to protect you from a far lesser threat; saving you all the same.

You could take care of yourself but allowing yourself this vulnerability and closeness at times was nice. Comforting. Something you longed for him to be able to have too.

'Hey, just breathe for me, okay?' He began stroking your hair slowly, as if testing the waters himself, hesitant as to whether he was allowed to do so. You tried to slow your shaky breathing and leaned into his touch, which must have reassured him somewhat as he continued to card his slender fingers through your hair.

Not wanting to meet his eyes, you buried you face into his shirt instead.

He froze momentarily before sighing. 'God, what am I going to do with you?' he whispered, still stroking the top of your head.

Slowly, he moved your head, tilting your face towards his concerned gaze slightly while letting a hand move from your hair to just barely graze the side of your face.

‘I can’t bear to see you cry, please…’

‘Sorry, I’m sorry,’ you sniffed.

‘No no- it’s okay. I’m sorry you felt like you had to stay silent because of me, even though you were afraid.’ He squeezed your hands again. His tone was soft and his eyes were earnest, warm and molten like honey, but he couldn’t hold your gaze for long before he looked down at his — and your — hands again.

‘...It’s… my fault, isn’t it? That you’re crying.’

‘W- what?’

‘There’s more to it, right?’

‘No — don’t worry I mean — I just.. really don’t like cockroaches,’ you stuttered.

Seven was quiet for a moment. He didn’t seem to fully believe you but he didn’t push it.

‘People like me are a lot worse than cockroaches.’

You couldn’t help a small smile. ‘If you were a bad person, you wouldn’t be trying to comfort me right now.’

Your smile was like sun rays breaking through the rain clouds. Your tears had stopped falling; you wiped them from your face. He felt a little proud of himself. Then immediately guilty and mortified as he acknowledged the intimacy of your current position.

‘Not to sound rude, but don’t get used to it,’ he said, refusing to properly meet your eyes. He didn’t think he would be able to take it if he did for too long. Too long being any more than a few seconds because that was all it took to be sucked in completely. How could he distance himself from you when he thought he could see swirling galaxies in your eyes? ‘I’ll be gone soon…’ he trailed off. You frowned but didn’t protest. You didn’t have it in you to argue.

He let go of your hands. Yours felt cold with the loss of touch.

‘Um.. will you be okay now?’ You nodded.

Seven stood up and reached out a hand to help you up as well. You couldn’t help but note a strength you didn’t expect from him as he pulled you easily to your feet.

No sooner had you risen than he swiftly let go of your hand and turned away, seeking out his corner of the room. He looked back one final time and gave you a lopsided half-smile. ‘Just let me know if there’s something you need to say but only if it’s serious, alright?’

‘Ok. Thank you, Seven.’

‘Oh.. ‘course…’

And then he was gone again, retreating to his little makeshift fortress with his 1s and 0s and strings of coloured numbers and letters that made little to no sense to you. And you let him. You were too mentally and emotionally exhausted in the moment to think of any reasonable excuse to keep him from running away to his solitude once again, so you let him.

But this time, it was different. Something had changed. You were as certain now that he didn’t want to hurt you as you were that ice was able to thaw.

Now, you were hopeful.

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breathings-of-the-heart · 3 years

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Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--” 

The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly.  

“Hello, Levi.”  

~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight.  

Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left.  

To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes.  

“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.”  

“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).” 

The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--” 

“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.

 He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.” 

He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea.  

You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  

“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

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#snk #AoT #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #lance corporal levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk levi #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader #attack on titan imagines

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banditthewriter · 3 years

Text

Intensity - Loki

Here we have a Loki fic. That came out of nowhere, I’ve only ever written drabbles for him. It’s not long but hopefully it’s not bad?

Enjoy!

*gif not mine*

*****

Unlike most people, the mutant gene didn’t show up when you were a kid. You could be grateful for that at least. Because of that little grace, your childhood had been completely normal. No worries, no fears, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then you started to notice changes.

People seemed calm around you for the most part. If your emotions were out of control, you realized that others would be that way too. It took a while to understand that it was more than just the environment, more than just coincidence.

It took a disaster.

It was a fight with your dad when you were a teen. You didn’t even remember what it was about, what caused the issue, but you were angry enough that you were told to go to your room. Your mom had come in to sit with you for a while to try to calm you down.

The next thing you know, she went into the living room and tried to attach your dad with a butcher knife. He was okay but he did have to get sixteen stitches. And your mom was traumatized, not understanding why she tried to kill the man she loved.

That’s what had them put it all together. The little things they’d noticed but had brushed off had come out in a big way.

You could influence other people’s emotions. Oddly enough, anger was easier than the nicer emotions, but you’d had a pretty laid back life so you didn’t feel anger a lot.

Maybe that’s why it was so potent when you did feel it.

Emotion manipulation could be dangerous without proper training so in college, after a few years of trying to pretend you were normal, you left to find someone to train you. Therapists, doctors, military people all tried their hand to get you trained. All of them had the same thing to say.

You were undisciplined at best. At worst? You’d never be able to be completely in control.

Over the years it became harder and harder to keep in contact with people, including your family. It wasn’t like you could have an actual relationship that way. You could never be sure if you were influencing someone’s emotions, even when you tried to get control of your powers.

The military had a bracelet that worked for other mental powers. It didn’t work flawlessly, but it helped. It dampened your emotional field so that it took touch to influence someone for the most part. That and a steady regime of keeping calm, you got a better grasp on it.

Better didn’t mean perfect though. You still sometimes affected people when you didn’t mean to. You still hated it when you did it.

One of the things you did learn while working with various therapists was that there was more to your power than just emotion manipulation. To a lesser degree, you could read emotions on people. It didn’t work as well when you had the bracelet on, dampened that power as well, but sometimes...sometimes you could catch bits and pieces off of the people closest to you.

While you traveled from military base to military base to try to figure out a way to work on your powers, you didn’t expect to get a call from the Avengers.

Well. It was less of a call and more of Iron Man dropping down in front of you and one of the generals so that he could offer you a place to stay at his tower.

“How’d you hear about me?”

Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew that Iron Man—Tony Stark, it was Tony Stark in front of you—was looking at you.

“Fury. He has a way of getting information on lost souls that need a little help. What do you say? Wanna be a part time Avenger? Use your mojo to make some people really docile so that we don’t have to keep wrecking New York City every time some supervillain decides to stop by?”

You shifted a bit and looked at the general beside you. He just shrugged.

You weren’t a prisoner of the military. It had been very evident that you were there voluntarily. It was up to you.

“I’m working on a better dampener for mental powers. Maybe I can make one that’s specific to your power and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

And just like that, you didn’t need to hear anything else.

------

The tower is bigger than you thought it would be. Which is a good thing. Especially when you realized it’s not just the Avengers that frequent the tower but other members of Shield.

“This area is all yours,” Mr Stark says as he shows you to your room. Suite. Apartment. “The walls are made from the same dampening material as your bracelet so it’ll contain your powers.”

“My powers aren’t that powerful,” you said softly as you touched the bracelet in question. “Thank you Mr Stark. I...I want to help people but I am scared of what my powers might do. I want to protect people from me.”

He turned to look at you and dropped some of that rich man bravado he’d been sporting since he escorted you onto his private jet.

“You don’t have to be scared of yourself here. I promise.”

That’s not the last time you see him either. He explains that you should call him Tony and although it’s weird at first, you do.

“Tony, aren’t you scared I’ll influence you?”

He looked up from where he was typing on a tablet, his feet up on the table in your kitchenette.

“Pretty sure you do,” he said casually as he looked back down at the tablet. “It’s only ever small things though. Calm sometimes, tired sometimes. Hungry that one, that’s why I ordered pizza.”

You felt your heart start to beat fast at the thought of you accidentally influencing him, but he must have caught on to that.

“Anxiety and I are old friends,” he explained as he put the tablet down and crossed over to you. “I’m not worried about it. Your influence doesn’t last if I’m not around you so once I leave, I’m back to myself. But honestly? Your influences are a lot simpler than some of the things I’ve felt.”

You thought about everything you knew about Iron Man and the Avengers and decided, yeah, he was probably right. Anything you could make him feel would be pretty tame compared to flying a nuclear warhead into a wormhole without knowing if you were coming back.

------

The first time you meet Natasha Romanoff, you spill orange juice on your shirt. She just smirked and grabbed a napkin to hold out to you.

It was the first time you’d let yourself out of your rooms. The new bracelet was supposed to be more effective, but Tony said he wouldn’t know if he was on the right track until you let yourself be around people.

People meaning Shield agents. You didn’t expect to be face to face with Black Widow.

Her grin wavered for a second before it came back even brighter.

“You have better control than I thought you’d have,” she admitted as she leaned against a nearby table. “Stark said this new bracelet would still let you influence, but you stopped it pretty quick.”

“I didn’t even realize what I was doing,” you confided as you gripped your half full glass of orange juice. “I just want to hold it all in when I’m around people.”

Natasha tapped her fingers on the table before she crossed over towards the door.

“It’s not good to hold it in. You might end up like a grenade without a pin.”

With that helpful piece of advice, she left.

Later, in Tony’s lab rather than your room, you told him what she said. He nodded as he made a few adjustments.

“She’s got the right idea at least. You stretch your wings with it every now and then, that’s one thing. You don’t work it at all and the muscle will atrophy. Who knows what a gift like yours can do if it degrades and you don’t have control over it?”

It took a while to come up with a plan. A few Shield agents, volunteers specifically, would work with you and let you influence them. Under supervision in case you lost control.

It was a step. You just wish you knew if it was in the right direction or not.

------

“This is Thor and that’s his...brother Loki. Don’t worry, he’s on his best behavior these days.”

You nearly swallowed your spit when you turned around and sure enough, you were faced with Tony, Thor, and Loki. This was somehow your life but you hadn’t really figured it out yet. You were a few feet away from literal Gods.

Thankfully Tony couldn’t read your thoughts because he’d think you lumped him in with that group.

“Uh, hi,” you said as you introduced yourself.

“Ah, another Avenger? Welcome.”

You smiled at Thor and shook your head, but Tony moved over and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“Definitely an Avenger, just with training wheels. Probationary,” he explained at Thor’s uncertain look. “We’re working on the kinks.”

You wanted to elbow Tony to get him off of you, especially as you could feel your heart start to race in your chest. This was nerves, anxiety building into a spike in your chest. Only Tony didn’t seem to react. He usually would at least look at you if he felt you influencing him.

And he didn’t seem to feel anxious or nervous in the least. Neither did Thor who was talking to Tony about...something about a bridge, you weren’t sure.

But Loki. You hadn’t paid much attention to him after the initial greeting, but you met his gaze now. He was staring straight at you, an intrigued look on his face as he watched you.

Tony and Thor might not have noticed your influence, but it seems Loki had. Great.

“I should get back to the lab,” you said as you stepped out from under Tony’s arm. “It was nice to meet you both. Bye.”

You heard Thor’s farewell at your back, but you could still feel Loki’s gaze on your as you turned the corner.

------

Any other time that you ran into Thor in the tower, he always put you at ease. Tony had explained your powers and how you were coming to grips with them. Thor asked questions about it, always careful to never put you on edge, but he didn’t seem concerned for himself.

“It would be hard for a human such as yourself to influence an Asgardian mind,” he said with a smile when you asked him about it.

That didn’t explain Loki then. Besides your first meeting, every time you were around the dark haired God you’d turned into a nervous, babbling mess. The look on his face was always intrigued, but it wasn’t cruel. It seemed almost clinical.

Although you’d heard a lot about that particular God’s abilities. Maybe since he had some mind control abilities himself, he could feel it in you.

And didn’t that just put you on edge. You weren’t sure how you felt about having something in common with Loki, God of mischief.

Although you weren’t entirely sure that was the only reason you felt nervous around Loki. Most people talked about how attractive the God of thunder is, with reason, but there was just something about the dark haired God that caught your attention.

So of course you would find yourself alone with the God in question while you waited for Tony. The Avengers were off Avenging and you didn’t like to be holed up while you waited for them.

You weren’t sure why you expected Loki to be off with them, but he wasn’t. He was in a chair in the room, a book on his lap that he flicked through lazily. When you walked in, his eyes lifted up and met yours.

There was a challenge in his gaze. Normally you’d make an excuse and turn to leave. He was challenging you to see if you’d do it now that there weren’t other people around.

Instead you crossed over and went to the kitchen area.

“Is it because of my past misdeeds? Is that why you’re nervous around me?”

You hadn’t heard him speak before right then, but his voice fit him. You tapped your fingers against the fridge door that you had pulled open even though you weren’t hungry.

“I’ve heard a few stories about you, sure. But you’re a God. It’s...intimidating.”

You heard the chair creak. When you looked over your shoulder, he had stood up and crossed a few feet to be closer.

“Regardless of my past, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Slowly you shut the fridge door and turn to face him completely. The look on his face made you believe him. But it was more than that. You could feel something from him, an emotion buried in the haze from your bracelet.

Honesty.

“Okay,” you whispered as you met his eyes. “I’ll...keep that in mind.”

------

The lower library wasn’t exactly your favorite, but it was usually empty. You walked through the first few aisles and froze when you saw that you weren’t alone.

“You come here to be alone,” Loki guessed as he looked around the room. “It’s one of the few places that’s technically public but usually void of people.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and nodded.

“I’m supposed to be in public for a few hours each day but sometimes it gets to be a bit too much. So I come here.”

He nodded as if he understood that. Then he turned to face you head on.

“How powerful are you?”

You almost laughed at that, but held it in.

“I’m not powerful, I’m untrained. Dangerous,” you added as you looked away from him.

One of the Shield agents had to be sedated when you’d made her feel too many things at once on accident. You weren’t sure how she was doing.

Tony was still calibrating the new bracelet, but you wore it anyways. You just hoped...hoped it was enough.

“I can help you. I’m skilled with mind control of stronger beings than humans.”

You fingered the bracelet you wore and thought about the Shield agent, your parents, all the people you’d influenced over the years that had bad results.

“I’ll think about it,” you said softly. Then you sighed. “I should go back to the lab. Tony will be looking for me.”

“Ah, yes, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

You smiled and looked away. You weren’t sure you could handle for Loki to pick up on how charmed you were by him just then.

You really needed to get better at keeping your feelings a secret.

------

The lab was in disarray. You stumbled from where you’d fallen, the debris mostly away from you.

Even in his panic, Tony hadn’t hurt you. He’d flung himself as far away as he could, kept his robots from hurting you, but he’d nearly destroyed his lab in the process.

“Tony?”

It was quiet for a moment but then you heard a rasping breath. You climbed over a fallen stool and went to your knees next to where he was crumpled on the floor.

“Tony, are you...what can I do?”

He let out a gasp, his eyes on your face for a moment before they slammed shut tight.

“JARVIS, get Pepper,” you called out, unsure of what else to do.

The mechanical voice said it would be a moment and then said that Miss Potts was on her way down. You slumped on the floor next to Tony, careful not to touch him.

Your anxiety about this test, about how long it had been since there had been any progress, had bled over to Tony. Only it was heightened somehow, the anxiety and worry causing a full blown flashback for him. You’d caught glimpses of it, almost-images of the wormhole and falling through the air.

It’s why you asked for Pepper. He hadn’t been able to talk to her before...before.

When she came in, she gave you an understanding look before she went to his side. Since he was being cared for, you got up and stumbled away from them. Your bracelet was still on the receiver so you grabbed it and hooked it on, grateful for the dullness you felt afterwards.

Then you left the lab. All you wanted to do was go to your rooms, to bury yourself under your blankets and wish it all away, but instead you headed in a different direction.

The room that Loki had been given was in the same hall as Thor, but you thought Thor was away on a mission with Steve and Sam. Loki’s door was shut, but when you raised your hand to knock, it came open.

“I need help.”

Loki came from across the room in a hurry, probably thinking you meant you were being chased. When he was sure the issue was less immediate, he nodded and met your eyes.

What he saw there made him let out a breath. He reached for you, slow so that you wouldn’t pull away. He unhooked the bracelet and set it to the side.

“This might be a bit uncomfortable,” he said softly as he raised his hands to your forehead.

In an instant you were no longer in the tower, no longer in New York. You were in your childhood bedroom, your mom helping you make your bed while your dad laughs at the two of you. It was such a distant memory, something you had forgotten.

As more and more of those happy memories come to the surface, you sense something from Loki. A bitter tang on your tongue.

He had hoped that your childhood would have been like his. He had seen you and imagined that you’d been set apart as well. To see a loving, happy childhood had almost been a disappointment for him.

That faded away as the next memory appeared. He watched from your own eyes as your mother, in a rage not of her own, tried to kill your father. He sees your best friend yelling that she can’t trust you, teachers telling you that you can’t come to class, job and job firing you after only days.

He sees relationship after relationship burn hot and bright at first and then the horror sets in, the worry that they didn’t want you like you wanted them, the anger from them, the apathy. You felt it all in spirals, in such quick succession that embarrassment started to well up inside you.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he promised as he continued to dig inside your memories. “You’re not there. They don’t matter.”

There’s something like a tug and then suddenly, like a dam breaking, you're overwhelmed with emotions. They seem to come from every direction like the room is crowded.

You open your mouth to say his name, to ask him for help, but instead there’s nothing but darkness as you give in to the pain.

------

The medical wing is new to you. When you sit up, there’s a hand on your shoulder to help you ease up the rest of the way.

“It’s been two days,” Natasha says in a tone you can’t quite read. “Thought we were going to have to take turns kissing you, Snow White.”

“Thanks for…not doing that,” you said as you reached up to rub at your forehead.

Loki. You had been in his room, he was in your mind. He was trying to help you, going through your memories. There had been...oh the emotions you’d felt before you’d passed out.

“Where’s Loki?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just reached out to grab a cup of water from next to your bed. As she held it out to you, you pushed it away.

“Natasha, where’s Loki? Tell me.”

She sighed and put the cup down.

“Steve and Thor had him put into a holding cell for attacking you.”

You were shaking your head before she even finished.

“He didn’t though!”

A tablet was on the table. After a brief hesitation she grabbed it and navigated through a few things.

“Watch this and tell me he didn’t attack you.”

You watched the recording from his room. The two of you were in front of each other, his hands on your head. There didn’t seem to be anything at first but then you saw what looked like a surge of magic go from his hands to your head.

You shook your head as you rewound it and watched the same spot.

“I need to see him,” you said when you finally looked up at her. “Now, Natasha.”

Although she obviously didn’t want to let you, she gave you a nod. You were already in sweats for comfort while you were unconscious, so you just slid on some too big slippers and let her lead the way to the holding cells.

Steve immediately raises his hands once you enter the hallway.

“What the hell Romanoff, I said–”

“Yeah, when’s the last time I listened to you,” Natasha snarked with a smirk. Then she gestured at you. “She wants to talk to him.”

Steve was just about to say no, but Thor came from down the hall with a frown.

“I think she should. I know what we saw, but we don’t understand it. It’s possible the only one that can understand it is her. Besides,” he added with a sly look in your direction, “Loki is on his best behavior when she’s around.”

You didn’t know how to take that, but thankfully it seemed to persuade Steve. He told you he’d buzz you into the cell once you were there. They had a camera so they’d see and hear everything and, if you needed it, could come and save you.

You really didn’t think you’d need it.

In the cell, Loki seemed different. He ignored you when you came in, just threw a ball against the wall and caught it over and over again.

You wished you could use your powers to read Asgardians as well as humans, but...wait.

There was nothing. From Natasha, from Steve, from the nurse who had released you. Usually you felt something, a low hum of their emotions, but there was nothing.

“The force of it was too much for you, but it’ll come back.” He caught the ball and let it rest beside him on the bench. “You felt too many emotions at once. Your mind was adapting to having mine in there when it happened and it overloaded.”

You nodded and sat down beside him, a few feet away just so that Steve wouldn’t bust in. You really didn’t need observers with this, but you knew you didn’t have a choice.

“It felt so weird. It was like I could feel the emotions of everyone in the tower at once.”

Loki looked over at you in surprise.

“In the tower? That was everyone in the city at once.” At your surprised look, he offered a smile. “I knew you were powerful when we first met, I just didn’t realize how powerful.”

You sighed and leaned back against the wall.

“Holy shit,” you breathed with another laugh. “No wonder I’ve been asleep for two days.”

And here you thought you couldn’t really surprise the God of mischief more than you already had.

“Two days? So that’s...why you haven’t come to set the record straight.”

Oh. Had he thought that you believed the story that he’d attacked you? Or did he just think that you were letting him suffer?

“Just woke up. Saw the video, heard you were down here, came to rescue you.”

He laughed at that, a sound that both surprised and pleased you.

“How do you feel?”

You thought about it. The emptiness in your head was blissful. So was the fact that you didn’t need to worry about making people feel your emotions.

“I hope it never comes back.”

His hand closed around yours and, with a gentle tug, he pulled you a little closer to him.

“You shouldn’t hope for that. The gifts you have don’t have to be a burden. You can learn to control them, learn to use them.” He smiled at you, his eyes locked on yours. “I said I knew you were powerful and I meant it. I could feel it in you.”

You rubbed a hand over your wrist where your bracelet usually sat.

“Maybe I should be the one in the holding cell.”

Loki’s face became more serious as he looked you over.

“It could happen one day.”

The memory of Tony curled up on his side after your influence made you think about what had happened in Loki’s room. Your mind had reached the entirety of the city. If you could push your influence that far…

“I have to…”

You didn’t bother saying more, just tore from the room in a rush. Steve was outside and he nodded when he met your eyes.

“We saw. We believe you. We’ll let him out.”

You nodded because that was good, but that wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

You needed to talk to Tony.

------

“You sure you don’t feel anything?” At your baleful look, Tony shrugged and looked back at the scan. “Your brain is unusually active.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” you said with a laugh.

Tony crossed over to where you sat. He looked good for a man who just a few days ago had been basically curled up under his table in a panic. And he had forgiven you for that.

“Make me feel something. Something small, please,” he added with a grin.

You drummed your fingers on the table for a moment before you nodded. Then you focused on Tony and a new feeling.

“God I could eat a cheeseburger,” he commented as his hand went to his stomach. “Wait. Was that it? Was that you?”

You started to smile but then you focused on him some more. There was surprise, under the surface, but you had to actually look for it. It didn’t come out of nowhere.

“I have control?”

Tony clapped his hands together. Then he reached out for your bracelet and tossed it into the trash can.

“It was a prototype anyways. We’ll get one together just in case, but I think we can say you’re off the bench for now.”

You laughed and tossed your arms around his neck.

“Thank you Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, now let’s get something to eat. Seriously, I’m starving.”

------

A few days after his release, you found Loki in the library. He looked up as you entered as if he knew it was you.

Maybe he did.

“Thank you. Because of what you did, I have control now.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “Thor said you’ll be going on a mission with them soon to celebrate.”

Yeah, you’d heard that as well. It was exciting, if a little daunting.

“It might do you some good to continue to train with me, if you wish. To perfect your talents.”

You smiled. Then you moved over to sit beside him. Now that you had control, you let your mind open to try to read him.

Silence. You frowned and tried again.

“Because of my powers, I can protect myself,” he said with a tap of his fingers to his temple, a grin on his lips. “I do appreciate the effort though.”

You laughed and looked down at your hands. Nervousness settled over you.

“I just thought if I could read your emotions, I could know if…”

If he was interested in you. If your feelings had influenced him at all.

“You could never influence me, I promise.”

You opened your mouth to ask how he knew that’s what you were thinking, but then you remembered. He’d been in your head. Besides seeing just how horrifically all of your past relationships had ended, he would have felt how you felt about him.

He was putting you at ease. Your nerves started to rise and either he could tell, or he just knew you that well already.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You met his eyes and smiled, a little breathless as you thought about the possibilities.

“Not uncomfortable. Just...nervous.”

He leaned in towards you, his grin nearly blinding until his lips met yours.

You didn’t need to be nervous anymore.

Thanks for reading!

#loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki fanfic #my writing

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laceymorganwrites · 3 years

Text

Period sex with Levi

Word count: 1,394

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, unprotected sex (pls always use protection, thank u very much), ooc and bad writing but that´s a given with me <33

A/N: I´m really sorry this isn´t any better. I really suck at writing smut, even more so in characterizing Levi

You always hated staying behind on a mission. Only that this time it really was out of your control, you wouldn´t be of any use on your period.

And you knew that, it was only logical. Yet when you were alone in the headquarters you couldn´t stop worrying and wondering if everyone was alright.

You knew you weren´t useless but you still felt that way in those times, you wanted to help and look out for everyone but there was nothing you could do with those cramps.

Your head was killing you and you were just in the kitchen, drinking some tea, trying to drown out the pain.

The throbbing was horrible, making you unable to focus on anything.

Moving around didn´t help either, it just made it worse.

After a while you decided to retreat to your room and try to get some sleep, but it didn´t come to you. With every step you could feel your insides tense up, making you feel sick.

When you finally arrived at your room and flopped down onto bed you couldn´t stop moving around, being frustrated that you just couldn´t find a position that didn´t hurt.

Time moved incredibly slowly and you just wanted Levi to return and cuddle you, make the pain go away.

But he´d probably be tired after the mission. Maybe you could bribe him into taking a nap with you.

The thought made you smile slightly, your heart skipped a beat when thinking about his warm hand on your belly.

You abruptly sat up in bed when you heard the doors open after a few hours, regretting your choice immediately afterwards. Nevertheless you got out of bed, biting your tongue and making your way downstairs to greet those who have returned.

“Why aren´t you in bed?” Levi asked once he got to you, the worry in his undertone being very clear.

He went straight to your shared room with you after saying a few words to the cadets, you closed the door behind him.

“Are you feeling any better, love?” he asked, looking at you intently, but his eyes were soft and gentle.

Though they dropped when you shook your head.

“No...I tried everything but nothing works, still hurts...” you complained, whining a bit in frustration.

“Oh darling, I wish I could help you. I want to have you in my arms so bad right now, but I´m still dirty. I´ll hurry underneath the shower and then I´ll try to make it better, alright?” Levi looked at you with the utmost concern, he hated seeing you in pain and even more he hated being unable to do anything about it, all he could provide were empty words.

At the mere thought of him in the shower you squeezed your legs together, biting your lip, making him raise an eyebrow and chuckle a bit.

He could read you like a book, it has been a while since the last time you had sex, time alone together was rare as it was, but Levi didn´t have a high libido, though he was always more than willing to please you whenever you needed and wanted it.

“The warm water will help you, don´t you think?” he smirked and his eyes glistened when you nodded.

“Join me. Though… I can´t promise you won´t get dirty, you don´t mind, do you?” he asked, his voice getting lower by the second.

You shook your head, getting undressed with him, watching his back muscles and shoulders as he took off his shirt.

It was a simple motion, something he did every day and yet it never failed to stir up your insides. Levi was incredibly handsome even though he didn´t think so.

It wasn´t like he was insecure, well, too much anyway, he simply didn´t care about his looks.

He didn´t care about the looks of anyone, he never thought they mattered. But then again, he hadn´t met you at this point.

You walked into his life and stayed unlike everyone else. And unlike most people, Levi wanted you to stay.

And fuck did you show him what beautiful meant, you were a goddess in his eyes, the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

The man worshiped you beyond anything else. He never got why people were physically attracted to each other, much less the intimacy of love.

But you taught him so much, he could never take his eyes off you.

Physical contact scared him before he met you, but now all he wanted was for you to play with his hair, to rest your head on his chest, fuck, he wanted to touch you too. Voluntarily.

Even on your period.

And especially now, now that he had such a good excuse, not that he needed one.

Levi always appreciated you for everything you were, he didn´t get horny too often but when he did he couldn´t hold back.

He needed you then and there, never minding the blood.

Period sex was never something Levi thought about even considering but now it just seemed like the best thing in the world.

His eyes were fixated on you as he pulled you into the shower with him, turning on the warm water.

Levi just couldn´t help but softly caress the small of your back, tracing his fingers over your spine, watching your lips part and your eyes darken with lust.

His mouth got dry as he reached your breasts, ever so gently moving his hands over your nipples, he knew how sensitive they were in this time of month.

He noticed how your breath hitched and smiled slightly, caressing your hips and waist with his thumbs, they were rough and calloused but those were the reasons it felt so good.

Levi moved his hand to your aching pussy, circling his thumb over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of pleasure through your body.

You moaned slightly and pulled him closer to you to kiss him passionately, he kissed back just as eagerly while inserting one finger inside of you, enjoying the familiar warmth, now only amplified by the blood.

You moved your hips in rhythm with him as he soon added another finger, slipping inside with ease.

He moved them both rather fast, pressing against your walls and that sweet spot that made your legs shake, meanwhile he was still working on your clit.

You reached out for him, feeling up his abs before moving to his cock and giving it a few good pumps.

Levi groaned and looked you deep in the eyes as he removed his fingers from your bloody pussy, leaving you wanting more for the small moment of emptiness.

He cleaned them underneath the shower head and then positioned himself between your legs where he hooked them around his waist to get better access.

You moaned slowly as he inserted himself into you, with such ease and care it made your heart jump.

You could feel your insides relax a bit, your cramps slowly were becoming more and more dull, not as sharp and painful anymore.

Levi moved slowly at first, as always he was gentle but steady. Deep thrusts and eye contact made you feel dizzy and all you could do was loosely wrap your arms around his strong shoulders and hold on.

You moaned and Levi grunted, he was quieter in bed but that never bothered you, you could still always tell when he felt good.

With each passing moment his thrust became faster and he continued to hit all the right spots, only adding to it was that he kept kissing you passionately and nibbling on your shoulder and neck a bit, not quite leaving marks.

You couldn´t hold back any longer and came with a loud cry of his name, he groaned deeply and filled his seed inside of you.

After you both caught your breaths again he proceeded to kiss you softly and wash you before leading you out of the shower to dry you and him.

“Do you feel any better, dear?” he asked you, the gentle warmth and concern never leaving his voice. “Not quite” you said, leading him to bed and laying down with him, you put his hand on your stomach and smiled at him.

“Now I do” you grinned and he chuckled a bit, kissing your forehead.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Unfettered - part 2 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr part 1

It’s time. Come back.

Awareness came slowly and fitfully.

His body felt heavy, weighed down - it was as if his spirit had gone roaming freely and returned only reluctantly, sinking back into the skin and bone and flesh that bound it, the return voluntarily but begrudging, like an ox submitting to the yoke or a donkey to its bridle. There were times when he was there, awake but unable to get up the strength even to open his eyes, only barely aware of the world around him in the murmur of voices, the smell of food, the consistent feeling of spiritual energy being transferred into his body. There were times he was not awake at all.

One day, he heard a child laugh.

That was strange enough to catch his attention – it had been a long time since there were children here in the place where he slept, a place so familiar to him that he could feel where he was in his bones. It had been even longer since there were children who laughed.

It’s time. Wake up.

He did not wake all at once. It was a gradual process, slow – he had to struggle against the infinite heaviness of his eyelids, the sopor that kept trying to steal him back into the dark, but he did struggle. He tried, he strained, he pushed, he forced.

He summoned the rage that was his birthright and said to his body, we have been friends these many years, I have honed you as I did a beloved blade, you will not stand in my way in this.

He woke.

A child was laughing.

“Be careful, A-Song,” a voice, unfamiliar to him but gentle, said. It was male, young, and kind. He thought perhaps he had expected someone else. “Remember, you must not disturb the array.”

“I won’t touch it, gege,” the child said cheerfully. “I’ll be good, and then A-Ling will come visit us!”

“When he can, A-Song. It may not be for a while, because of the war…”

A weight settled on his chest at the word – war – and he almost lost his will to wake, not wanting to return to everything that word entailed: the pressure of all the expectations that rested on his shoulders, the stress and fear of the decisions he was forced to make, the guilt at each life lost and the butchers’ bills that piled up on his desk, the exhaustion and pain that followed the slog of life at the battlefront, adrenaline melting away to leave him feeling vacant and empty…

Duty was duty, though. Even in war.

Especially in war.

He forced his eyes open, staring at the ceiling for long moments as the noises of a child playing continued around him, the soft voice alternatively praising and gently chiding him. After a while, his gaze stabilized enough for him to recognize that above him was his own ceiling in his own room in his own home.

He could always tell, thanks to the drawings right above his face – his brother had once insisted on sitting on his shoulders while he stood on the bed so that he could reach the ceiling to carve something into the wood and stone. Something that would make him smile every morning that he opened his eyes, his brother claimed, his own eyes curved into a smile of his own, and he had never been able to resist his little brother anything that would make him happy.

He swallowed several times, wetting his throat, and asked in a voice little better than a rasp, “How goes the war?”

He meant where is my brother, is he well, is he whole, he meant what has happened to my sect, he meant what has happened to me. But duty called, and so he asked instead – how goes the war.

It helped, he supposed, that the words were familiar on his tongue, even as his throat and lips ached the strain of having to speak for the first time in what must have been a while. How goes the war – it had been his watchword for years now, all throughout the Sunshot Campaign and even before, the first question in the morning and the last question at night. How goes the war.

“Gege! Gege!” the child shrieked. “He said something!”

“No, I – but…did… – Sect Leader Nie…?” The unfamiliar voice was deeply surprised, almost shockingly so – how long had he been asleep? “Sect Leader Nie, did you say something? Please confirm.”

Sect Leader Nie.

Yes, that was how they called him. That was who he was: Sect Leader Nie, Chifeng-zun.

Nie Mingjue.

He had forgotten it, for a moment, the name and the weight of it, all the responsibilities that went with it, but now he remembered.

Nie Mingjue struggled to force himself up on his elbows, trying to look further around the room – it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done, harder than moving through waist-deep muck through a swamp, which he’d also done, more than once.

As he’d expected, there was a man there, and a child. Both were unfamiliar to him, he thought, even if he did not entirely trust his memory at the moment. They were both gaping at him.

Well, gaping at his general direction, in the case of the man. He was dressed in white, like the Lan sect did, but the narrow band of white that they had in common encircled his eyes, not his forehead – he was blind.

No, Nie Mingjue was sure of it now: this man was totally unfamiliar to him.

The child was, too, but that was less of a surprise, given that he was only two or three at the utmost, the age children changed the most, and after all Nie Mingjue had been away fighting the wars for several years; it was reasonable not to recognize him.

But a man he did not recognize, here, in his own bedroom..?

“The war,” he rasped again, and swallowed to try to clear his throat. That was the only thing he could think of that might explain it. “My brother…?”

“Oh,” the man said, not especially intelligently. “The Pallbearer isn’t here – he’s away. There’s a war.”

The – what?

Nie Mingjue narrowed his eyes and forced them to focus, realizing that what he had taken for a man was little more than a teenager, certainly younger than twenty. Old enough to fight in the war, regrettably, but he supposed the blindness might keep him from it. It was sometimes hard to tell, with cultivators, how much they would be impacted by something like that.

“My brother,” he insisted. He wasn’t dead; what did he care about where some pallbearer - technically, the phrase meant ‘virtuous mourner’, or possibly ‘person whose virtue is in their mourning’, but either way it was a strange appellation - was? What he wanted was – “My brother.”

The child had been hiding behind the young man in white, but he popped his head around to stare at him, tugging at the young man’s robes. “Isn’t he Nie-er-ge’s brother?”

“Yes, he is,” the man said automatically, then flushed, ducking his head. He was very handsome, almost pretty, and at some point when Nie Mingjue didn’t feel like drowning in his own exhaustion he would spare a bit more time to wondering why he had been left here at his bedside, whether it was because he was the only one who could be spared or if it was for his own protection or both. “Ah, forgive me, Sect Leader Nie, of course you wouldn’t – your brother is away at the moment, but I will send him word at once. He’ll be so happy to hear that you’ve awoken.”

Nie Mingjue let himself slide back down from his elbows, his most severe worry assuaged – Nie Huaisang was alive, he was fine, he was safe. That was good.

Now he could concern himself with the war, he supposed. Although…

“Wasn’t the war…over?” he asked the ceiling. He thought he remembered that it was, the vague memories of seeing Wen Ruohan’s body hit the floor burnt into his brain as if with a brand – it was so different from what he had dreamt of for so many years that he thought it must be true. And with Wen Ruohan dead, his sons dead, who would continue to fight? Some small pockets of the truly devoted, maybe, but surely not the bulk of the forces…?

He didn’t remember. There was something there just beyond his memory, and he was abruptly struck with the feeling that he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.

There was a whisper of cloth, the man beside him shifting from side to side in awkwardness. Probably trying to decide if he should stand here and answer questions or go to send out the alert about his reawakening at once.

“You are correct, Sect Leader Nie,” he finally said. “The Sunshot Campaign ended…it’s a new war.”

A new war, Nie Mingjue thought, and closed his eyes for a brief moment to stave off the pain of it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t discussed the possibility that something like that would happen with his sect’s elders during his war counsels, the fact that wrecking the established system of the Five Great Sects might lead to a power vacuum and more fighting, but the alternative of submitting to Wen tyranny had been worse; they had had no choice but to hope that their worst fears would not come to pass.

In vain, it seemed.

“I should – go tell someone,” the young man said. “I’ll go –”

“Go,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Return after, and then you can…what’s your name, anyway?”

“Xiao Xingchen,” the young man said. “Disciple of Baoshan Sanren…you wouldn’t have heard of me. Your brother took me in after I lost my eyes.”

Baoshan Sanren? Another disciple of the immortal mountain? Surely Nie Mingjue would have heard of something like that happening – it would have been the talk of the cultivation world, ongoing war or no. But he hadn’t heard anything, and this Xiao Xingchen fellow didn’t expect him to. And that meant…

“How long have I slept?” he asked. No, not asked. Demanded.

“Oh, I definitely can’t answer that one,” Xiao Xingchen said, sounding genuinely distressed. “I’m going to go get someone who can.”

He dashed out of the room in a swirl of white that Nie Mingjue saw out of the corner of his eye. A moment later, he heard a small shuffling sound and, with a slight groan, lifted himself back up again to look at the child, who had lingered even after his guardian had departed.

The boy was wearing Nie colors in familiar styles – Nie Mingjue thought it might even be some of Nie Huaisang’s old clothes, which he’d found himself unable to throw away even after they’d long been outgrown. He’d ultimately ordered them to be stored in hopes of preserving it for the next generation - his son, or maybe his nephew.

The shape of the boy’s face wasn’t remotely Nie, though, so he thought perhaps he might be an orphan or something. Another person his brother had taken in, perhaps, the way he had the blind Xiao Xingchen?

Had his brother been forced to run the sect while he slept? He must have. That had been what Nie Mingjue had always intended for him, wanting his brother’s cool head to guide the next generation, but he had not thought that it would be so soon…he thought he would have time to help guide Nie Huaisang into being sect leader, to ease the way, to show him how things were done and what was important. To let him become the wonderful sect leader Nie Mingjue had always been sure he would be, the one their sect deserved –

He’d wanted to make the transition less abrupt than his own elevation to the position at his father’s death, to make sure the position of sect leader didn’t consume Nie Huaisang as it had Nie Mingjue, who didn’t have any hobbies or pastimes except for spoiling his little brother, Nie Mingjue who barely remembered what or who he was outside of the work he did.

He’d wanted to leave Nie Huaisang to govern their sect through a world of peace, not war.

Clearly he’d failed.

Despite these gloomy thoughts of his, he tried to smile at the child. “Hello,” he said. “Your name is – A-Song?”

The child nodded, edging closer – closer, but not too close, and the reason for his hesitation was clearly, upon further inspection, that he didn’t want to cross over onto the lines of the complicated array painted onto the ground around the bed. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen it before, and he didn’t recognize it.

“What’s that for?” he asked, nodding at the softly glowing lines, which he could feel were full of spiritual power.

“It’s to make you feel better,” A-Song answered promptly in the know-it-all tone of a child who had clearly asked a similar question in the past. “Nie-er-ge repaints it all by himself every week, Xiao-gege helps keep it running, and I help, too!”

“You do?”

“Yeah! I’m the – the – I make it less boring!”

“Ah, I see! You’re the entertainment? That’s a very important job.”

A-Song nodded so rapidly that Nie Mingjue was slightly worried his head would come tumbling off his shoulders, and he had to suppress a smile at the sight. He’d always liked children, and this one seemed…strangely familiar, for all that Nie Mingjue was sure A-Song wasn’t a Nie.

“What’s your surname?” he asked, and A-Song frowned, scuffling one foot behind the other. “Don’t you know?”

“I know!” A-Song exclaimed. “It’s Jin! I’m Jin Rusong!”

Nie Mingjue could feel his eyes going wide in surprise, surprise and even shock that stabbed deeply into him. Ru- was the next generation’s name for the Jin sect, following after Zi- for the current generation and Guang- for the previous one – there had been much discussion of that towards the end of the last war, as it had been a clear insult framed as a compliment when Meng Yao had been offered the name of Jin Guangyao so shorty after the Nightless City.

Meng Yao -

The Nightless City, Wen Ruohan, Meng Yao…

Nie Mingjue remembered.

How could he not? In his memory, it had been only a few weeks before.

They had been mopping things up in the aftermath of Wen Ruohan’s death, and Nie Mingjue had been absent without leave from the medical tent more often than not, unable to refuse the calling of his duty even though his health (and any number of his subordinates) demanded he rest and recover. It hadn’t been easy: his mind had still been fuzzy from the aftereffects of the torment he’d suffered in and after Yangquan, the torture on the way to Wen Ruohan’s palace and again within it. The dizziness had impeded his ability to work, causing him to lose track of time or to grow abruptly distant and forgetful.

At the time, it had seemed that everything he remembered was unreliable – he’d thought, at first, that Meng Yao had done certain terrible things while he was in the Sun Palace, truly terrible and unforgivable things, the sorts of things that would make Nie Mingjue obligated to denounce him and Meng Yao worthy only of execution no matter what his good deeds might have been. But Meng Yao had said he was misremembering, that it hadn’t happened that way at all, that his mind was damaged from the torture and the fight with Wen Ruohan, and Lan Xichen had vouched for Meng Yao with all sincerity.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t been sure at first, had been so certain that he was right, that he remembered correctly and that Meng Yao was simply lying to him, but they had both seemed so sincere…and in the end Nie Mingjue hadn’t really wanted to believe that Meng Yao would do things like that anyway. He hadn’t wanted to think that someone he trusted would do that, that he’d so misjudged him. And that had made it – not easy, no, but it had made it make sense to accept their version of events over his own, even if it made him sick and anxious to think that his mind was so unreliable and untrustworthy.

Still, accepting it had meant that Nie Mingjue could agree to swear brotherhood with Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, as they both wanted so very much. It meant he could congratulate Meng Yao when he received the letter indicating that he would soon be his father’s recognition and the name Jin Guangyao. It meant that he could invite him to dinner at his camp to raise a glass together in honor of his accomplishment, to wish him good fortune and the best of luck for his new life.

It meant that when, in the middle of their dinner together, the wonderful news came that Nie Fengjun and Nie Xiaopeng had survived their injuries at the Nightless City, the ones that had kept them bedridden for so long getting infusions of spiritual energy and being fed drugs to keep them asleep so that they didn’t tear their throats open again by trying to talk, he could smile at Meng Yao – no, Jin Guangyao, he had tried very hard to remember to call him that and had still mostly failed – and tell him with joy that there were two deaths he no longer had on his conscience.

He could ask him to wait a while when he went to talk to them, promising to return soon.

It meant that he could take a few steps towards the door, Baxia far away on her stand and not in his hand, his back unguarded against the man who had sworn before all the world to be his brother.

It meant that he could feel the cold string of the garotte when it settled over his throat and pulled tight, cutting off his air – that he could hear the humming of a Lan battle-song in his ear, the spiritual energy that he had been freely sharing with Meng Yao only moments before suddenly turned against him and starting to riot inside of him – the weakness inherent in his blood, the ancestral Nie tendency towards qi deviation, abruptly pressed upon and galvanized from within –

If you yell, the first person through the door will be your brother and I will gut him like a fish, Meng Yao had hissed in his ear, and Nie Mingjue had stopped struggling for just a moment, horrified by the thought.

Horrified at being attacked by someone who knew his most dangerous weaknesses.

By someone he trusted.

The pause had been a mistake, of course. There’d been poison on the garrote, he thought, and the battle song and his rioting qi had let it in easier than it might have otherwise.

Meng Yao really was a perfect assassin.

But why me, why now, I don’t want to go so soon, I haven’t even had a chance to live yet, he remembered thinking, more fear and hurt than anger, and then there was nothing but darkness.

And now –

And now there was a child called Ru-, the next generation down from Zi-, and he was already two or three of age.

“How long have I slept?” he demanded, struggling to sit up. “How long has it been? Huaisang!”

How long have I abandoned you?

Xiao Xingchen ran back into the room not long after, looking horrified by Nie Mingjue’s burst of temper, pointless and impotent as it was. “Sect Leader Nie, please calm yourself,” he exclaimed. “I’ve already sent word out, and I’m sure your brother will be here soon. Please, stop moving – don’t damage the array…!”

Nie Mingjue forced himself to calm, his fingers digging into the bedding as he fought to control his temper –

Now is not the time.

– but he finally managed with a few deep breaths to stop feeling as if he was drowning in dark thoughts, in fears, in horror at himself and what he had inadvertently allowed, at what he had lost.

A few breaths later, and he stopped struggling.

At that point, it occurred to him that something was strange.

Based on his experience with being injured, and with his warlike sect he had plenty of that, Nie Mingjue would have expected that a fit like the one he had just had would have meant that he’d be swarmed by doctors. That was what was usual for this sort of situations, a giant bevy of doctors always just a few steps away, standing at the ready to force opinions down his throat about what he should and shouldn’t be doing – that had been what it had been like with his father, at least at first, and then later on it had been something he had been forced to accustom himself to as sect leader.

(First rule of being sect leader: don’t get knocked unconscious if at all possible. Not because the sect won’t manage without you, but because you’ll have to deal with doctors fussing at you for ages thereafter.)

Strangely enough, though, this time the doctors didn’t come. It was only Xiao Xingchen, dropping down to survey the array with his fingers, murmuring and infusing it with bright and pure spiritual energy that Nie Mingjue could feel soaking into his meridians, into his bones and muscles and bones.

Presumably this was the reason his body had not atrophied, in the – it must have been years since he –

He took another deep breath.

“Forgive me,” he said to Xiao Xingchen, and then again to Jin Rusong, who was hiding behind something. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Jin Rusong said with a great deal of grace, and probably too much equanimity for someone his age. “I don’t mind. It happens.”

To so easily disregard such a show of temper suggested that the boy had either had a hard early life or very calm parents, or maybe both. Nie Mingjue did not like to think of it, although he himself had been quickly inured to such things, after his father…

Best not to think about that. Best not to think about how it might have – what might have happened to him, after Meng Yao’s surprise attack.

(He hoped that he had succumbed to the poison or the suffocation instead of the qi deviation, since Baxia had, he hoped, remained intact; he could not be sure of it, since the assassin had been Meng Yao, who had known how best to hurt him. He hoped that he did not linger - did not lose himself to rage - did not have to be put down - that Nie Huaisang had not had to make the choices he himself had long ago had to make.)

“You didn’t call for any doctors?” Nie Mingjue asked Xiao Xingchen, trying not to think about those foul memories and the dark suspicions that swirled in his mind.

“I have some medical skills,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Not…many, and not as many as I used to have, but some, if you’d like me to check you over?”

“I’m not concerned for me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. He’d propped himself up against the headboard, an activity that had drained most of his remaining energy. “I’m just – why didn’t you call any doctors?”

“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I see.”

“I’m glad that you understand,” Nie Mingjue said, eliding to mention the matter of sight. They were not on such familiar terms that he could make a joke over it, and it was clear from Xiao Xingchen’s occasional if very graceful clumsiness that the blindness was new. “Would you also like to elaborate?”

“Sect Leader Nie is off-limits to anyone without permission to enter,” Xiao Xingchen said, folding his hands in front of him. “Especially in the event that you wake up.”

“I understand,” Nie Mingjue said, and he did.

He had had some time to think about what had happened to him back then, about the timing of those two survivors from the Nightless City waking up and Meng Yao’s sudden attack – he still didn’t have any answers, didn’t understand why Meng Yao turned against him so suddenly, but he had his suspicions.

Suspicions - and regrets.

If he hadn’t chosen to believe Meng Yao over the evidence of his own eyes and ears, would he have ended up like this, leaving Nie Huaisang alone for years on end?

There wasn’t any point to that line of thinking, though. Might as well say that if Nie Mingjue hadn’t been conditioned for years and years by his sect to have a mortal fear of his own qi, filling him with terror that one day he would become like his father – sick, with a mind full of hallucinations tormenting him and leading him astray – then maybe he wouldn’t have been so ready to disregard his own perception in favor of another’s, and of course there was no one to blame for that.

“Your brother will be here soon,” Xiao Xingchen said. “And once he is, I’m sure he’ll want the doctors to look you over. It’s only, you understand, without him to supervise, he doesn’t – he –”

“He doesn’t trust anyone,” Nie Mingjue said, and felt a pang of grief. Nie Huaisang had always trusted more readily than he had, the extroverted younger brother to his introverted and even misanthropic elder. The differences between them had in large part been caused by Nie Mingjue’s elevation to sect leader – too soon, too fast – and the discomfort and distance that created between him and those he thought had been his friends. And now, to his regret, the position would have done its work on Nie Huaisang as well. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure if you do,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He trusts – quite a few people, I’d say. There’s his people in the sect, of course, his cousins and deputies and all that, but he’s also on very good terms with quite a lot of the cultivation world: Sandu Shengshou, Yiling Laozu, Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun…almost all the important people, really.”

Nie Mingjue noted the absence of Jin Guangyao’s name or title.

Good.

“It’s just – you’re very important to him. More than you might think.”

“I raised him,” Nie Mingjue said. “From the time he was a child, he was my only family. The only things I had in life were my sect and him, and even my sect I wouldn’t have placed above him, and he knew it – I think I understand my importance to him. It’s the same for me, with him.”

“Perhaps,” Xiao Xingchen said, looking wistful. “Perhaps. That does explain rather a lot, I think.”

Nie Mingjue made himself more comfortable. “Who’s the child?” he asked. “He said he was surnamed Jin, but I assume the Jin sect is who we’re at war with?”

“You’re very perceptive,” Xiao Xingchen remarked. “How did you know?”

“The seeds of a new war can be found in the end of the last one,” Nie Mingjue said. “It would have always been the Jin sect. I’m surprised that it actually came to a head so soon, that’s all – they’ve always preferred being subtle and sly, politicking to outright fighting. I wouldn’t have thought they’d declare open war.”

“Why do you assume they were the ones who’d declare war?”

Because of who was left behind, Nie Mingjue thought. Lan Xichen who tries to see the good in everyone, Jiang Cheng who is insecure about what he can and cannot be, Wei Wuxian with his armies of the dead that he so very clearly never wanted…and my brother, who knows better.

My brother, who loves peace and hates war the way only a child born into the thick of it would; my brother, who’s so terribly clever underneath all his laziness; my brother who knows that war is fought as much in the hearts of men as on the battlefield –

No, he wouldn’t be the one to declare war.

Not even for me.

“Weren’t they?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Although in fairness, they were provoked.”

Nie Mingjue was sure they were. His brother, probably, or maybe Wei Wuxian – they were good at provocation. They could find something that even the Jin sect couldn’t tolerate.

From the way Xiao Xingchen turned his head towards Jin Rusong, an instinctive gesture for all that he couldn’t see the boy, it might have something to do with him. A small child surnamed Jin, and yet embarrassed to admit it…there was a story there that he would eventually need to learn.

Just as he would eventually need to ask the practical questions – questions like who’s leading the war effort, since Jiang Cheng was good at battle but shit at strategy, Wei Wuxian who was too reckless and reliant on flashy tactics that wore him out, Lan Xichen who was better as a courier than a general, Lan Wangji who was too independent, a lone wolf who’d never learned how to compromise enough to join a team, how are we paying for it, the eternal question of supply even more critical for three weakened Great Sects when set against the richest of them all, and of course how can I help.

But he was tired, and did not ask. He would gather the energy for war later.

For now, he would be satisfied with something simpler, more straightforward: his brother’s well-being, confirmed not merely with words but by his own eyes, which he really ought to learn to trust.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before there was a noise outside the door, and Xiao Xingchen brightened in evident relief. “He’s here! A-Song, come with me, come say hello –”

They went out, and a moment later, the door opened and Nie Huaisang walked in.

Attuned as Nie Mingjue was to movement, that was the first thing he noticed: that his brother walked differently than he had before. It was more purposeful, striding rather than ambling, sharp, with as little wasted movement as possible – angry, always angry, but contained. It was not at all what he thought of when he thought of Nie Huaisang, who was usually more aimless and carefree, limbs tumbling everywhere; it was far more similar to the way Nie Mingjue used to carry himself, seemingly relaxed but in fact on guard against the world at all moments.

Nie Huaisang’s face, too, was different than Nie Mingjue remembered it being: it was thinner, sharper than it had been, with narrowed eyes and lips pressed together, his whole demeanor distrusting and forbidding. The last bits of baby fat had melted away, taking with it the impression of softness and tenderness that he had once exuded, the lazy and indolent air that had made him seem younger than he was.

No longer was he the feckless young man the Nie Mingjue had so carefully protected from the horrors of the world, and the thought sent a pang of pain through Nie Mingjue’s heart.

And yet, when Nie Huaisang walked into the room, looking irritated and exhausted, and his gaze fell upon the bed where Nie Mingjue had lain for longer than he cared to think about, when he saw Nie Mingjue propped up and awake, when their eyes met for the first time –

It all melted away, the child he had held in his hands abruptly recognizable once more.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wailed, and threw himself forward into Nie Mingjue’s waiting arms, heedless of the array that Xiao Xingchen has so worried himself over, heedless of the shocked expression on both Xiao Xingchen and Jin Rusong’s faces, heedless any residual injuries in his urgency. “Da-ge!”

All the questions Nie Mingjue had, and he had a lot – who is the Pallbearer what is the war who is fighting who have we lost what happened to me what happened to you – dashed out of his head at once.

There was only one question that mattered – are you safe – and the answer to that was in his arms. He clutched his baby brother to his chest with all his greatly diminished strength, tears springing to his eyes just as they filled Nie Huaisang’s, and they wept with joy to see each other again.

It’s time. At last.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #xiao xingchen #nie huaisang #jin rusong #my fic #my fics #unfettered

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mandospace · 3 years

Text

Fooled Around (Din Djarin x Reader)

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Din x female reader inspired by the song "I Fooled Around and Fell In Love" by Elvin Bishop?Hope u can do it 💕

Requested By: @pepperlen

Word Count: 4,680

Warnings: Some mature content (mention of sex and brothels), extreme pining by our one and only Mando

A/N: I have never written an entire fic in one character’s POV, so I hope it turned out okay! My requests are open for both Din and Boba. I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The galaxy was immense, the stars and planets innumerable. People of all races were still trying to understand just how big it was, to what depths the black and empty space stretched out before them. Sometimes, the distances between each point of light were immeasurable, too far for any humanoid to comprehend, no matter how hard they tried. Within the galaxy, there were trillions upon trillions of souls- each with a name and story to tell. One of those souls was a lone bounty hunter that traveled the immense space between the points of light.

Din lost track of how many planets and towns he has been to. The number ranged in the hundreds, if not thousands. Each planet and town was all the same though, even if their topography differed greatly. Every planet held small backwater towns where the scum of the galaxy seemed to hide, evading their captors. In those backwater towns, there was always a lone cantina that sat on the edge of town. Locals and vagrants alike frequented the establishment, where there was always an old bartender. At that bar, drunks of every race tried to drink their worries away in the same liquor every night. Desperate people wandered amongst the booths, looking for work, money, and sex. Sometimes, all three if you met the right type of person.

No matter the planet or town, it was always the same. The lone hunter had fallen into a pattern, one that he upheld almost as strictly as his Creed. Pick up a job, track down the bounty, capture the scum, and haul them back to the Crest. Depending on the job or planet, sometimes Din would wander back into the cantina looking for something to keep him entertained. Sometimes it was fighting amongst the drunks- eager to release his pent up adrenaline from the hunt. Other times, he looked for other means of releasing the tension that constantly laid beneath the shining beskar. More often than not, this release was found in the company of women who too were looking for company.

He wasn’t proud of the numerous one-night stands that he had during the length of his career. It was nothing personal- both participants looking for an escape from the dreary life the galaxy offered. No questions were asked of either party, both just eager to feel something besides the numbness that surrounded them in their everyday lives. While Din wasn’t proud of his many encounters, he certainly wasn’t ashamed of them. Each was a necessary means to an end- a way to break the tediousness that was bounty hunting. A way to feel something besides anger and violence.

When the kid entered Din’s life, his well-adhered schedule was practically thrown out the window. He was no longer the lone bounty hunter that jumped from planet to planet in search of quarries or release. Now, he was a single father that fended off the remnants of the Empire that was hell-bent on taking his foundling away from him. Din was tasked by the Armorer to reunite the foundling with his own kind- even if he had no clue what kind of creature the small green foundling was. It was declared that they would be a clan of two: branded in the Mudhorn signet on the tempered beskar of his pauldron. Wherever he went, the child followed; even into dangerous situations.

After too many close calls with the little womprat, Din started to realize that he couldn’t do this on his own. When foundlings are taken in, the whole covert would raise and care for them. Show them the ways of the Mandalore: how to fight, how to protect the covert. Din didn’t have his fellow covert that he could rely on to help raise and protect the foundling. He was always out-matched in terms of fighting and raising the kid. When it came to fighting, Din couldn’t be as ruthless as he needed to be when he was constantly concerned for the child’s safety. When it came to raising the kid, the little green booger seemed to out-wit him at every turn. How could he discipline the small child that had Din wrapped around his tiny little clawed finger?

He couldn’t rely on the covert that seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Mandalorians were rare already, and the only ones he knew had vanished without a trace. Kuill was Din’s next option before he remembered the early demise his close friend had met because of his relation to Din. Cara was on Nevarro, wiping up the last remnants of Empire scum. Greef had resumed his position at the Guild; and besides, Din didn’t want the kid anywhere near him. Peli was running her hangar on Tatooine, too busy scamming pilots out of their credits over small repairs. He had quickly exhausted his very short list of allies that he could trust with the kid. It had become apparent that he would have to look for outside help.

Din wasn’t looking for anything specific in a caretaker, just someone that seemed competent enough to handle a child. He wasn’t even actively looking for someone when you literally stumbled into his life.

He was in one of the many familiar backwater towns of Dantooine, leisurely strolling through the open-air market that lined the town’s only street. The kid was nestled in the pouch Din had draped over his shoulder, dark eyes peering over the burlap sack. They were in town looking for some supplies, food and medicine mostly. The child had eaten up Din’s entire stores, though he wasn’t sure how he could eat that much. He was only a 50 year old baby, after all.

When they were landing on the outskirts of the small town, Din had noticed that there was a local brothel that appeared on the holo-map. It had been months since Din last had any form of release- caring for the kid and evading the Empire had taken up his entire time. Even though he desperately wanted to relieve some stress, Din couldn’t. The kid was too important to risk taking his eyes off of him for even a moment.

Distracted from the tension and stress that lingered underneath his beskar, Din didn’t realize that he was on a collision course until he collided with your body. You had been carrying a basket full of fruit that was piled high above your head, hence why you didn’t see the intimidating hunter in silver beskar. When the two of you collided, you fell onto your bottom with a groan, fruit rolling out of your basket and onto the dusty ground. Din just looked down in shock at you, surprised that he didn’t even see that you were right in front of him.

“Do you ever watch where you’re going?” You groaned, rubbing your backside in pain.

He just looked at you, blinking slowly behind his helmet. You were beautiful, even though you were scowling up at him. Your hair was tousled from the fall and dirt was coating your clothes. The sun was bringing out the highlights in your hair, and Din longed to card his fingers through it. He had barely known you for two minutes but Din was already fantasizing about the feel of your skin under his, the soft breaths that would leave your lips. Stars, it had been too long.

“Hello, Dantooine to Tin Man?” You were waving your hand in front of his visor, trying to get some type of reaction out of him. “Mind helping me with this?”

All he could do was nod as he dropped to his knees and started to help you pick up your spilled fruit. Your hair had fallen into your face when you bent over and he wished he could tuck it behind your ear. He silently chastised himself. He hadn’t even said a word to you and there he was, dreaming about touching you while you were picking up the fruit that he spilled.

“So, what’s your name?” Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts as you looked up at him. Din couldn’t breathe when you locked eyes with him- even though you had no way of knowing where his eyes laid under the black visor. Your eyes, though, were mesmerizing. “So you’re the silent type, then?”

Din cleared his throat and offered his hand. “I’m Din.” What was he thinking?! He had never revealed his name to another living being voluntarily, and yet here he is, freely and openly giving his name to a beautiful girl he had just met.

“(Y/N),” you smiled and took his hand in yours. He was shocked at how small your hand looked in his, but even more shocked at the overwhelming sense of rightness that flowed through his veins at the sight of your hand in his leather-clad one. “Oh Maker, who’s this?”

Din hadn’t realized that the kid crawled out of his satchel and started to waddle over to you. He moved to pick up the kid and put him back in his bag, but you had beat him to it. You easily swooped the kid up into your arms, setting him down on your lap. The kid just stared up at you, offering a toothy smile. “Are you hungry, little guy?” Riffling in your basket, you picked out the juiciest looking fruit before handing it over to the child. “There, enjoy that, little guy. He’s precious. Is he yours?”

“Sort of,” Din admitted as he shuffled to his feet. He offered you a hand to pull you to your feet which you gladly accepted. The kid was still cradled in your arms, munching on the fruit. Since your hands were full and the kid looked too happy in your arms to take him away, Din picked up your fruit basket instead. He was amazed at how easily you interacted with the kid. You hadn’t even known the small child for more than five minutes but the little womprat was utterly enamored with you. It had taken Din weeks to gain that level of trust with him and yet here you are, plucking another fruit out of the basket in Din’s arms and feeding it to his kid. “Do you want a job?”

Confusion flashed across your features before a blush settled on your cheeks. “Look, sir, I’m not that kind of girl...”

Embarrassment flooded Din’s system. “No! You misunderstood me. I would-” he almost said ‘I would never ask for that’ when he realized that he has asked for that in the past. He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkward tension. “What I meant was, you seem to be really good with the kid, and I need some help looking after him. I can’t provide for the both of us when I am constantly worried about him.” You just stared up at him, the child wiggling in your arms while he reached for your necklace. “I could pay you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about food. I would just need you to look after the kid while I hunt after bounties.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Din regretted telling you that detail, afraid that it would scare you off. Bounty hunting wasn’t the life for everyone.

“Yes, but I-”

“Do you travel the galaxy?” You eagerly asked, eyes shining bright at him.

“Of course, I often have to go to lots of different planets to track down my quarries. Why-”

“I’ll do it.” You had cut him off again, but he didn’t care. You had just said ‘yes’ to him without really knowing him at all. You were either crazy or a very trusting person. Maybe both. “I’ll meet you at the south edge of town at sunset with my things.” Handing the child back to him, you swapped the kid for your basket of fruit. You started to head off in the direction of what Din assumed was your house before you turned around to look at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Din was puzzled at the girl that was smiling back at him. The sun caught your hair, illuminating the soft highlights hidden within the locks. He wanted to reach out and touch it again.

“For giving me an adventure.”

___

For the past three months, Din has been in an almost constant state of agony.

He thought that bringing you on board would be a good thing: a much needed help in raising the kid. And it was a good thing, for the most part. You were always helpful, willing to do more than was asked of you. Many times Din would come back to the ship and you would have a warm plate of food waiting for him, the kid already asleep in your arms. The first time you did this, Din had to explain his Creed and why he couldn’t eat in front of you. You had nodded along, taking in his words before walking out of the hull and up the ladder leading to the cockpit. Before you had shut the doors, though, you called out to him and told him to eat his food and not to worry. You would take care of the kid and put him down for his nap. That miniscule kindness that you had shown the lone bounty hunter shook him to his core- a warmth seemed to have spread over him and his heart stammered in his chest. You did that for him every night, for every meal.

Not only that, but you were amazing with the kid. Suddenly the rambunctious little green womprat would mellow out any time you walked into the room. He would be fussing in Din’s arms, crying about something and you would just walk up to the hunter, take the kid into your own arms, and he would immediately calm down. It was like a sixth sense you had- you always knew the right thing to do to get him to calm down. When you started to sing the child to sleep every night, that’s when the warm feelings inside of Din’s chest turned to white-hot agony.

It was his favorite kind of torture, listening to you sing softly to his kid. Din was never in the room when you did this, he always kept far away because of his fear. Your voice was so soft, so melodic that if Din heard it directly, he would surely fall even harder for you than he already had. He would gladly succumb to your siren’s call and let you lure him to the vast depths of the ocean.

He wasn’t used to this, feeling something for another person. Sure, Din had cared for other people before, namely the little green foundling in his care. But he had never felt this deep, aching pull inside of him. Whenever Din was with other women, it was to get over the stress and tension that came with his bounty hunter life. The feelings he felt for those women were purely physical, purely surface level. A temporary lust that would dissipate the next morning after he had released his frustrations. Din had never felt these feelings that were emotional, deeper than any he felt before. When he looked at you caring for his kid or making dinner for the three of you, his heart would stop in his chest. With every smile you gave him, Din felt those at first insignificant, warm feelings grow and burn until they developed into a raging fire. He felt like he was swallowed whole by flames and every glance or touch you gave him was only adding kindling to the fire burning in his heart. If your little smiles and touches piled twigs onto the fire, he couldn’t imagine what feeling your lips on his would do to him. He would probably combust into a flaming inferno.

Din tried to ignore the white-hot agony being around you brought. He tried to reason with himself that he wasn’t that type of man. The type that brought home flowers to their lovers just because. The type that would rush home from work just so they could wrap their arms around their lovers and kiss them. The type that would actually want to settle down and start a family. Every time he looked at you though, he imagined what it would be like to have that type of life instead of the violent one he lived. He imagined that he would come home from work, and you would be cooking dinner for the three of you just like you do now, except things would be more permanent. The three of you would actually have a house- he didn’t care on which planet, you could choose any one and he would gladly build the house for you from the ground up. The child would attend the nearby school and make friends with kids his own age- well, kids that were actually kids and not 50 years old and still a child. He imagined that you would be cooking his favorite meal, that he would be able to come up behind you and kiss your neck and pepper kisses across your face because he no longer wore the helm of a Mandalorian. He imagined that you would laugh at the feeling of his stubble tickling your skin before you would turn around in his arms and truly kiss him. You would hold his face against yours and on your left ring finger there would be a simple band of beskar wrapped around it. He imagined that he would have a similar band on his own finger- a symbol to the galaxy that you were his and he was yours. He imagined that he wouldn’t be able to pull you flush against his chest because of your rounded belly, swollen with his child...

“Din?”

Reality came crashing down around him at the sound of your voice. The image of the two of you in his mind faded and was replaced with the very real image of you staring at him, a worried expression etched on your face.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry, Cyare.” Din cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to call you that affectionate Mando’a nickname, but it just felt right. He hadn’t meant to do a lot of things, namely fall for you.

“I asked if you could pass me the wrench.” Wheeling yourself out from under the ship, grease had smeared across your cheek. Just like you were an amazing caretaker for his son, you were also an amazing mechanic. The place where the ship needed maintenance was too small for Din to get under, but you were just the right size.

Din grunted in response and handed you the wrench. The tips of your fingers just barely grazed the tips of his leather-clad ones, but it was enough to set the Mandalorian on fire with desire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t deal with the agonizing feeling of being this close to you but not being able to touch or hold you like he wanted. Before he could do something stupid, like ruin the only friendship he’s had in decades, Din bolted up from the crate he was sitting on.

“I’m heading into town, I’ll be back later.” Din didn’t pause to listen to your concerned questions on if he was alright. This wasn’t the first time he had just bolted mid-conversation.

The Razor Crest quickly disappeared behind him as Din trudged into town, looking for a distraction. It was all the same, each town he visited. He didn’t even need a map to find his way through the dust-covered streets. His feet just took him to the nearest cantina that sat on the edge of town. It was loud inside the bar, music blaring and people laughing. Din didn’t pay attention to any of the people- he just trudged to the corner booth and sat down. His head was swimming with thoughts of you. Even miles away, he could still smell your sweet perfume. It had somehow lodged itself in his helmet’s filters. He would have to change them out soon if he were to ever be able to focus on a hunt.

“You here alone?”

Din glanced up at the woman standing before him. She had some drink in her hand and a lazy smile on her face. Her hair was pulled up into a knot on the top of her head and was the same color as your hair. In the dim cantina lights though, Din was almost positive that your hair would look prettier, much prettier. It was always so shiny, smelling so good.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded gruff through his vocoder. He wished he could drink something, but he wouldn’t be able to in this crowd.

“Want some company?” The woman smiled at him, and all he could do was shrug. People could do what they wanted, it was a free galaxy, after all. “What brings you here?”

“Work.” He didn’t mean to be so short with the woman. Din was just preoccupied with his thoughts of you.

“No,” the woman laughed, resting her hand on top of Din’s. His eyebrow quirked under his helmet. “I mean what are you doing here?” Her thumb started rubbing circles into his worn leather. His brow raised even higher.

“Escaping, I guess.” Her thumb continued to rub over his hand. She gave him another smile.

“Really? Me too. What a coincidence.” The woman grabbed his hand then, intertwining her fingers with his. She pulled his hand until he stood next to her. “Why don’t we escape together?” Her hand started moving over his silver cuirass. Din knew he shouldn’t go with this woman, but as the thoughts of you started to swirl through his head, desire pooled low in his stomach. If he couldn’t have you, he might as well go with someone who wanted him.

So he followed her out the cantina’s back door and into the dark alley. The sun was just starting to set on the town and Din realized that he has been gone from you much longer than anticipated. You were probably worried, wondering where he was.

“Relax, baby,” the woman purred, running her hands down his chest. “Let me make you feel good.” The woman pushed him up against the alley wall and started to palm the front of his pants. It had been so long since Din had gotten the release he’d been craving. His eyes slipped closed under the helmet.

The woman continued her ministrations, hands roaming over his beskar-covered body. His eyes stayed closed the entire time as he imagined that you were the woman that was touching him, running your hands over him. Her hand slipped into his trousers and cupped his growing length.

“(Y/N)...” Din moaned, eyes screwing shut even tighter. Your smile flashed through his mind, adding more kindling to his fire.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and removed her hand from his pants. “My name��s not (Y/N).”

Her voice broke the carefully crafted illusion that Din’s mind had conjured. His eyes opened to reveal the woman from the bar in front of him, not you. In this lighting, Din noticed that her hair actually wasn’t anything like yours. Hers was a much duller shade, lacking the shine yours held. Her smile wasn’t as radiant as yours. Din’s illusion shattered into pieces before him.

“I-I have to go.” Din adjusted himself in his pants before making his way out of the dark alley. The woman let out a disgruntled cry, but Din didn’t turn back to offer his apologies. Instead, he pushed his way through the crowd of locals making their way back home. The people that saw him jumped out of his path, terrified of the Mandalorian stalking through their town. He didn’t care, though. The only thought Din had on his mind was you.

By the time he got back to the Razor Crest the sky was black- only the stars lit his path home. With a press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp started to descend. He didn’t even wait for it to fully touch the ground before he jumped into his ship. His eyes swept the hull until they landed on you standing near the ladder leading to the cockpit- eyes wide with surprise.

“Din, where did you go?”

He didn’t say anything, only slammed his fist against the button next to the ramp to close it. Din strided over to where you stood, pressing another button on his vambrace. The ship fell into darkness.

“Din, what are you-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Din had ripped his helmet off and tossed it to the floor. His gloved hands reached for your face and pulled you to him, crashing his lips against yours. Din could feel you freeze under his lips for just a second until you melted into his touch. A breathless sigh slipped past your lips and Din breathed in your sweet breath. His heart was slamming against his chest as he kissed you. Your kiss acted like fuel to an already raging fire that warmed him to his core. His left arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you tightly to his chest. Din’s right hand cupped the back of your neck, holding your lips against his whilst he drank you in. Your lips were so soft against his chapped ones and with every brush of his against yours, shivers ran down his spine. Your arms had wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. The way your fingers carded through his hair and lightly tugged made Din moan in pleasure. His grip on you never loosened as he continued to move his lips against yours. When you sighed for the second time, Din took the opportunity to lick into your mouth. He loved the way your tongue tangled with his. Din felt like he was a raging inferno- a star burning brightly in the dark limitlessness of space.

You had moaned his name against his lips when he pulled away for some much-need oxygen. He sighed your name into your skin, peppering kisses down your throat. His name continued to fall past your lips while his made their way back up your throat and to your lips.

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Din breathed against your skin before capturing your lips once more. This kiss was shorter than the last but still held the passion shared in the first.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you smiled against his lips as you held his face in your hands. Your thumb was rubbing soothing circles into his cheek, goosebumps left in its wake. “But why did you kiss me? Why now?”

Your question weighed on his mind before the answer became as clear as transparisteel. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I’ve met you. I finally decided that I couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

Din could feel your smile against his lips. “I’m glad you became impatient, Tin Man.”

He felt a chuckle rumble through his chest at the nickname you had given him the first day you met. Din couldn’t see you through the darkness of the ship, but he was sure your smile was radiant and would surely blind him if he gazed upon it. He never meant to be the type of guy who fell in love. He always thought that he would be by himself, following his Creed until the day he died. The only future that had stretched out before him was one of loneliness and hunting. Now that the kid and you had entered his life, another path had revealed itself. One where he wouldn’t have to be alone. Instead his future was much brighter: fueled by your kisses and surrounded in the warmth you gave him.

“Me too, Cyare,” Din nudged his nose against yours, fingers grasping your chin. He tipped your face towards his and brushed his lips over yours. “Me too.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin drabble #din djarin oneshot #din djarin one shot #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin masterlist #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian one shot #mandalorian oneshot #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #mandalorian masterlsit

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment.

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah.

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else.

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway.

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn.

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it.

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug.

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.”

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily.

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room.

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart.

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.”

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great.

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ”

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not.

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?”

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.”

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough.

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.”

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.”

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in.

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen.

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.”

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.”

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch.

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?”

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.”

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything.

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself.

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree.

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend.

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded.

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.”

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath.

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again.

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.”

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up.

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.”

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going."

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway."

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked.

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died.

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.”

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway."

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why.

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?”

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.”

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called.

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.”

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen.

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?”

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.”

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.”

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies.

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.”

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.”

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected.

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.”

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger.

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.”

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot.

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand.

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here.

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on.

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life.

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that.

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14

@nomadics-stuff

#tw child neglect #tw child abandonment #tw children #tw child labor #axwalker writes #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #drake x lexie #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic

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xiyao-feels · 3 years

Note

Hi! May I ask a The Untamed question: Why does Meng Yao return the jade pass? What is it and why is it important? Lan Xichen seemed a bit upset, surprised but also resigned to it simultaneously.

Hi! So—/why/ Jin Guangyao returns the jade pass is an interesting question, and there are various different opinions on the matter. I think it's best if I start with the second part of your question: what is it and why is it important?

The Lan use the jade passes as a security measure; you need one to get in and out of CR. JGY has a pass which previously allowed him access to CR, but LXC changed it; this time, when he came, it didn't allow him in.

I think it's worth taking a fuller look at the jade passes, which in this case means looking at MDZS.

We first see them, I believe, in chapter 11. In MDZS, WWX a) believes LWJ hates him and b) doesn't realize LWJ has recognized him. He pitches a fit outside the gates of CR because he doesn't want to go inside, because without a jade token that allows you in and out, he won't be able to leave:

If he was dragged inside, it would be extremely difficult for him to come outside again. Back then, when he came to study, all of the disciples were given a jade token for passage. Only with the token, would a person be able to enter and leave freely, or else they couldn’t pass through the protective barrier of the Cloud Recesses. After ten years had passed, the security could only have gotten stricter, instead of looser.

After he's inside, he tries to see if he could escape without the token, but no dice:

Lan WangJi went to see his uncle to discuss serious matters, while Wei WuXian was pushed into the room. Right after Lan WangJi left, Wei WuXian also went outside. He strolled around the Cloud Recesses, and found that, as he had expected, without the jade token for passage, even if he climbed up the white walls of a few zhangs’ height, he would be immediately flung off by the barrier, attracting the attentions of the nearby patrolmen at once.

In chapter 65, we see that LWJ is able to detect when someone tried to come through the wards without one:

Wei WuXian slept sometime later. He was asleep until early morning when he suddenly woke up. With a shiver, he crawled forward and looked up. Lan WangJi’s was still dressed, sword was on his back. As he took back the hand that he had put on Wei WuXian’s shoulder, he stared at a white object within his palm, “We have an uninvited guest.”

Wei WuXian squinted to see. The object was the GusuLan Sect’s jade token of passage. He could recall that Lan WangJi’s token was a very high level, able to alert him if others intruded over the barrier of the GusuLan Sect.

This was JGY coming, the very same trip he returns the jade token, because now it's no longer working. WWX concludes that LWJ modified its access at some point in the last couple of days:

Wei WuXian understood now. Since ZeWu-Jun and LianFang-Zun had quite a good relationship, Lan XiChen had given Jin GuangYao a token of passage as well so that he could visit freely. However, it was likely that within the past few days he had either edited the prohibitions of the Cloud Recesses’ barrier or retracted the permission of Jin GuangYao’s token of passage. When Jin GuangYao came to visit, he was refused permission to enter, and thus he voluntarily returned the token.

In chapter 119, LWJ tells WWX that the jade token he gave him can also be used to withdraw money when he needs it:

Wei WuXian, “[…] Oh, right. HanGuang-Jun, I’m out of money. Give me a bit more, won’t you?”

Lan WangJi, “Simply take the jade token to withdraw the money.”

Wei WuXian let out a muffled laugh, “Apart from letting me in and out of the barrier, that jade token you gave me… can also let me draw money?”

“Yes.”

Though I very much doubt that Jin Guangyao ever used it for that.

I can't find reference to anyone other than JGY and WWX being given tokens permanently (like, aside from the visiting disciples), so only Jin Guangyao who didn't live among the Lan. (Although since the damn tokens aren't referred to by a single consistent name, I could be missing something.)

See also this bit in ch 80, from the second siege:

Wei WuXian laughed, “Who said that you have to go inside the Room of Forbidden Books? Wouldn’t it be fine as long as your master can go in at will? The methods of tampering with the sheet music—he was probably also the one who taught you that, right?”

A person of power free to travel in and out of the Cloud Recesses at will. There was no need to say out loud whom Su She’s master was. Everyone knew—it could only be LianFang-Zun!

It's not actually totally clear to me how much of this carries into CQL canon. For example, we don't have the WWX trying to escape from CR plotline in CQL, so from what I remember I don't think we see him testing the wards and being flung off the walls. And more than that: in CQL we don't get the scene where LWJ detects JGY's visit through his own token, meaning Wangxian's presence during the meeting comes across more as something LXC deliberately set up. I think you could read it in if you really wanted, but it's definitely reading against the text.

(Incidentally, to me in CQL LXC doesn't seem surprised when JGY puts the pass on the table, but I think he very much is surprised when JGY says I'm returning it to you; that's not the direction he was expecting this to go. Episode 43, 31:17-31:37, if you want to check yourself.)

Okay, so, now we have all the context. Why does Jin Guangyao return the jade pass? He says that it's because it stopped working, sure, fine—but why did it not working mean he returned it?

To the best of my knowledge—though as ever I could be wrong—we don't get any more information than that in the text, which means it's a matter for meta and speculation. This is where I'd usually tell you what I think and why, except... honestly, I'm not sure. I haven't yet settled on something that feels right to me.

I've seen the ideas that he was distancing himself, or that he was reacting as though it was a complete rejection—it's certainly true that being completely rejected is his usual experience, see NMJ and QS. I can follow the logic, but it doesn't quite work for me? First because it's followed by his reassuring LXC on the subject of LWJ's reputation and the possibility of CR being searched, and then inviting LXC to Carp Tower for a conference about the Burial Mounds, but also...hmmm. Retreating like that is—not really how he usually operates? You see it with NMJ, you see it with QS—he keeps reaching out, he keeps trying to explain himself. In MDZS he stops after the stairs, but at that point he's very thoroughly done with NMJ and I think we can agree he's not there with LXC; in CQL he keeps trying even after he's decided NMJ has to go. Now it's true QS literally just killed herself! so he might not be reacting as usual and all. But...mmm, I don't know. He says it himself (ch 106): “I can’t help it. To seek pity even after doing all the bad things—that’s the kind of person I am.”

Okay, so why the heck /does/ he do it? Welllll...it could be practical considerations—maybe it would be a risk for the Lan if the token got into the hands of an enemy, say, and he's not sure he'll be able to protect it. But honestly that's not very satisfying, and there doesn't seem to be any evidence in the text that I can remember? So I think it makes sense to look elsewhere.

Maybe he actually is trying to respect LXC's boundaries, especially since they don't have time to hash this out. Maybe he figures that—well, we don't know exactly how the second siege would have played out without Wangxian's intervention, but it seems pretty likely that it would have involved damaging the Lan, which is LXC's care and to whom until now JGY has been the staunchest of allies; a way of acknowledging the damage he's doing, even if it won't be understood until later. Maybe he's trying to send a message to LXC: shit is going down, are you in or out? Maybe he's trying to knock LXC off balance; LXC certainly seems off balance for the conversation, reacting rather than acting. Maybe it's to distance LXC from him in like, the potential eyes of the crowd; they've been close and public allies for so long, and now he's trying to help make sure LXC doesn't he pulled down with him if he goes down. Maybe it's a farewell gesture—not so much to LXC, but to the life he's been living, to the precise shape of relationship they had. Maybe it's giving LXC something safe to remember him by—a token, but not something it will look weird if LXC keeps, because he still hopes that LXC will want to remember him. Maybe it's meant as a reminder of the help he has given the Lan. I don't know! I don't know. I do at some point want to sit with the text and seriously work this out, but I also want to get this out for you, anon, so you actually have the information you asked for XP

I think right now I'm leaning towards—some combination of farewell to this part of the life he's been living and the shape of his relationship with LXC (but not saying farewell to /any/ relationship with LXC), and—giving LXC a token of that time. But right now I'm just not sure.

(MDZS quotes all taken from the ER translation)

#a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs #more than one tag could contain #the best of men #long meta

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tiens-letters · 3 years

Text

upon autumns day, where you and I met. upon autumns day where I remember all of what we were before youve passed. and upon autumns day would I have ever so slowly let go of that pain of the past

zhongli (angst)

@albeidoof its somewhere here hehehe

Time was a luxury. A treasure each and everything holds.

Yet time is a curse as well. It covets, devours and leaves. which humanity neglects to cherish until the heart ceases its steady rythmn, only then do they regret of the wasted minutes, hours and seconds.

Beneath the flow of the rushing waves of things that have come and gone. Only on this particular day would he sit beneath a certain tree. The rough bark brushing up against his back as leaves fell effortlessly to the ground, as if it were ready to let go of from the branches that gave birth to it, only to return once again to the waiting soil.

It was a sunny afternoon, clear of any clouds and only clear unblemished blue, a good time to enjoy a warm cup of tea yet there was no energy in his bones to even move from where he was.

He felt exhausted. Desultory even.

Gone were the halcyon days of the past, and now the present time of the vivid reality he had to face.

Morax, rex lapis, the geo archon. Names that weighted more than one could carry, memories that shackled his soul that lived for a thousand years on end, all but a stain that could never be washed away.

The breeze slowly danced in, playing with his hair softly, kissing his skin and welcoming him. It carried a hint of aromatic essence only he would know belongs to.

You.

He tried to desperately recount the days after youve left the face of the earth and yet he could not remember or did his mind not allow him to as if he did, it would bring him terrible and heavy consequences for an answer, one sane mind would never want to know.

Sighing, he sat back and recalled back the memories of you instead. When you were alive, warm and breathing in his arms. He remembers the way your eyes would shine brightly whenever he would be around, or the small sound of delight you would make when you have finished another one of the many interesting blends of tea youve done over the course of a week of mixing different flowers and tea leaves. Youve made up quite the fortune with this as your little hobby bloomed into a fully run business known across teyvat.

"Zhongli." he froze, youve never called him by his name ever since youve started getting close, it made him feal uneasy as he turned to look at you who stood by the doorway, a neutral look on your face.

"y-yes?" nervousness clawed at him as he racked his brain to what he couldve done for you to call his name like that, he couldnt think of any.

"I came back from the market and I heard youve made quite the generous payment. Why is that, I wonder?" he's done it again, that spending habit of his

"The price was reasonable for such a fine ceramic tea set, I dont seem to find why it shouldnt reflect its quality?" you sighed as you pointed towards the glass cupboard behind him

"You bought the same exact set a week ago, Zhongli. Thats why." having to realize his mistake after looking over the two identical set that on the shelf, he turned to apologize but only to see you missing from the doorway. Footsteps can be heard from the floorboards above him. You were upset.

After minutes of pacing in the living room, he finally mustered the courage to climb the stairs and enter your shared bedroom. A figure already under the sheets as the warm glow of the lamp illuminated your delicate features. The mattress sunk as he sat beside you, fingers brushing away the stray hair that fell on your face.

"Im still mad at you Zhongli." his hand flinched slightly at the way you called him

"I apologize. I seem to not have learned my lesson again. I would gladly return the set tomorrow."

"Its no use, they dont accept refunds." you replied without sparing a glance at him

"What can I do for you to forgive me then?"

"Just go to sleep, Zhongli." groaning you reached for the switch to shut the lamp off but a gentle grip stopped you, forcing you to look at his gloomy expression. Perhaps you went too far this time.

"Please stop calling me in that way. I dont like it." he whispers, drawing your palm to his lips, leaving small kisses upon it. He sure does know his way around your heart, no wonder why you could not stay mad at him.

"Just be mindful next time." you cursed yourself for being weak to his charms.

"I will." yet something was missing "Then can you call me as you did before?"

"Zhongli?" you could see the slight grimace in his face as you teased him

"Stop it." he kissed you without warning "Call me as you did before."

However, his lips didnt stop as they began to travel. From your cheeks to you forehead and then to your neck. Oh dear, he wasnt having any of your teasing.

"A-li." you giggled beneath him as he finally stopped and met your gaze

"Thats better."

He still remembers the faint smile that graced your lips whenever he would wake up next to you tangled in the same sheets. The softness of your skin on his calloused touch. Your lips melting his and your voice lulling his raging mind to peace.

Then everything changed when you drew blood that spilled from those lips he's kissed for a thousand times, painting a morbid image on the sheets. Anger and despair boiled inside of him once he learned of the secret youve kept. Zhongli was a calm and collected man all of the time except when he was with you.

Having to witness him at such a point felt as if his own spear was being driven right through his very chest. He held you in an arms width away, the panic and pain in his eyes increasing over the minute as he begged for you to explain why youve decided to lie about the flowers that bloomed in your lungs, the sickness youve inherited from your deceased mother, whose fate you soon would follow. You didnt want him to find out, not in this way.

He couldve done anything if he knew from the start but alas, you wanted to be cruel, thinking it was for the best. Until your symptoms persisted, a heavy reminder of the remaining distance of the string you have to walk on to reach the end. The heavy feeling in your chest started to worsen as cherry sweet liquid poured from your mouth.

Soon the once pristine sheets were stained in haunting crimson shades as you heaved and he watched in agony. If only he had the ability of what he once had back then, if only he could plant the seeds of the flowers from yours to his then he would, if only he hadnt met you one autumn evening

" please dont look at me like that. " you told him, cold hands caressing his cheeks, catching the streams of salty warm beads that fell freely from your darling's amber eyes.

"Im sorry. Im so sorry..." the last thing you wanted to see was this man to cry. The last thing you wanted to see was to see him relive the past tragic memories you promised to bring him out of

" my disease has nothing to do with you. In the end it was mine alone to handle. oh, you are far from that so please dont you ever blame yourself."

"How can I not? If I havent fallen so deep then you would experienced so much more in life, you couldve been happier if you met someone else. Yet you chose me and I couldnt give you anything, I--. " the words knotted up as he began to shake, hands holding yours as knuckles turned to white

You slapped him.

With all the strength youve gathered in that fading body of yours. The sound cutting the grieving sounds that spilled from him, soul and flesh alike.

"A-li, look at me. Do I look like someone whose unsatisfied with what youve given me? Did my smile ever fade when Im with you? Did your affections ever lack? Answer me." his watery gaze met yours, a torrent of emotions swimming in them

"No. Never." a soft smile was carved unto your lips

"My dear, youve given me all Ive ever wanted in this life and I regret nothing of it."

To him, you were the flower that bloomed at the highest peak of the mountain he's never reached and yet its petals voluntarily detached and fell down, making him the happiest as one thing he's admired was untouchable and now, lay softly in the palm of his hands. To cherish and to protect.

But of course, all things are evanescent.

The familiar feeling of soreness that wasnt supposed to be there rose, ebbed and flowed through his throat. He knew it all too well, it was after he woke from his week long slumber did he feel it along with what his ancient beating heart felt.

"You collapsed." the worried words of the qixing echoed in his head. He frantically got up but as soon as his feet touched the floor did his legs give out underneath him, what use was he in this sorry state. He was helped up and sat back on the edge of the bed.

He wanted to ask many things yet was unable to.

Ningguang spoke as if you were still breathing and was visiting her minutes ago with another one of your tea blends. "Dont worry and rest first, go to jueyun karst after. They will be waiting."

To where the adepti resides, who as well, favored you, that one soul among thousands of others. One to which they shared a few good memories with was allowed to slumber there in peace.

Zhongli found himself waking up to the sun setting in the horizon. Just like how youve gone and resurfaced back into his memories. It was time.

He stood up from where he sat, gloved hands brushing any dirt that clung to him as he made his way to where you slept.

The red bean that was planted by himself still remained, a token of his love for you. Picking one bead and placing it inside the hollow dice he brought along, completing another one of the similar handicraft he's made every visit.

The sun finally died and the moon began its reign. The small wisps of light gathered around before him, forming a blurry image.

It was then he felt at ease, he saw you smiling at him with all there is in the world. Your light seemed to dim a little, hinting the blessing the adepti gave was slowly diminishing. Soon your visits would cease and you were sure that by the end of the power spent, he wouldve let go of the torment that plagued him.

"A-li. Have you been well?" he knew what you meant

"Im letting go slowly my dear. Perhaps in time, I would learn breathe easily once again."

Longest yet lol. Hope yall liked it ehehe

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhonglixreader #genshin impact drabbles #zhongli angst #morax

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bold-writing · 3 years

Text

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 17 || The Absence of Fear

Words: 3000+

Warnings: None.

Previous || Next

~17~

Patricia had taken Iris out for groceries after the night she had spent sleeping beside her, stating that she did not care how small Iris was, she needed to eat more in order to be healthy. So, with a fully stocked kitchen and fridge, Iris had parted ways with Patricia after delaying the older woman with a long hug in the doorway of her apartment. Patricia didn’t seem to mind, and had just stroked Iris’s hair as she assured her that they would see one another soon.

Iris knew that she couldn’t be selfish—she couldn’t hold onto her soulmates all hours of the day because they had lives, too. She truly wished that she could; she wished that she never had to let them go.

However, she now had the thought that she could be with them much more; she had, after all, agreed to Patricia’s invitation about having a room made up for her. For her to think about such a drastic change in her life left her feeling old ghosts of panic, but it passed easily as she reminded herself of the comfort and security that came with having her soulmates nearby.

They had talked about it in more depth and Patricia made sure that she was fully aware they were not asking her to leave her apartment. They had no desire to rush her from her home, and only desired to offer her a safe place to sleep on nights when she felt her home wasn’t as safe as it used to be. She wasn’t sure when any of that may actually take place, since Patricia confessed that they had decided on it while she was sleeping, but knowing that it was a possibility in the near future was all she needed.

Standing in her kitchen as she finished the dinner she had picked out with Patricia, her plate scraped clean of any food, Iris looked at her laptop she had placed on the counter in order to read. She rarely used her laptop, not really liking the headaches that came from reading on the screen too much, but this seemed like a good time to bring it out.

On the first tab, information about apartments coming up for rent in her price-range, some saved or bookmarked to come back to at a later date, and the other tab held an article that Fletcher had released on Dissociative Identity Disorder. She knew that the soulmates she had met wouldn’t mind answering what questions she may have, but there were some things that she wanted to know going into a living situation.

Putting her dishes in the sink, filled a few inches with hot, soapy water, Iris picked up her laptop and half-filled mug of tea to take back to her bed and sit down. Crossing her legs and placing the computer in front of her, mug of tea in close reach on the nightstand, Iris returned her focus to the article.

This particular one was written only on the person with D.I.D., lacking anything to do with soulmates, and that was just what Iris was looking for. There wasn’t much information on soulmates of those with D.I.D. to begin with, so she didn’t concern herself too much with it and instead focused on studying the condition itself. She had tried to read other articles she had found, but they never seemed to portray the ‘subjects’ as people. Fletcher spoke of them as humans, and revealed that each identity was in fact their own person.

It wasn’t just someone hearing voices or showing signs of extreme bi-polar disorder; they were truly their own person, unique and different even if they all lived in one body.

Iris fully believed it, and not only because of the evidence provided by her soulmarks. It reminded her of the way each of her soulmates carried a different smell. Patricia had been wearing Barry’s clothes when she came to her, yet she smelled nothing like Barry except for the ghost of cologne that still clung to that material.

One of the things that irritated her with the other readings was also how they brought up treatments, explaining that the alters could be ‘cured’. They didn’t believe that alters were as real as the original identity and were all a part of a mental psychosis. That fact alone had her immediately abandoning those types of articles, always finding her way back to Fletcher’s work instead.

It was disappointing to know that there were so few people who supported Fletcher and her side of the research; from what Iris was reading, she had incredible evidence on her side. Yet she was forgotten in favour of others were went on about how these people could be ‘cured’ because they were sick. Knowing that Kevin had been through something terrible when he was younger, the exact reason that the alters existed, made Iris loathe those who said they were sick.

Kevin wasn’t sick, he was abused and afraid. She knew that feeling; she knew the desire to have something or someone there to protect you from the pain that was happening. The alters saved him, and they continue to protect him every day. You cannot cure fear. You cannot cure memories. You cannot cure a person from within a person. That would be like saying Barry, Luke, BT and Patricia were diseases.

Slamming her laptop closed and pushing it away from herself, Iris released a huff of frustration as she glared at the tiny computer. How dare they? How dare they think that they could ever understand what had happened to those who were abused, those who did all they could to protect themselves.

If anything, the people in the world with D.I.D were better than those without; their minds had done something that no one else thought possible in the past. They had literally become more in order to survive the circumstances which had created them.

“They don’t understand,” she muttered to herself, looking down at her arms to take in the visible marks along her forearms and hand. “They didn’t live through what we did.”

Clenching her marked hand into a fist, she pushed aside the irritation and anger that bubbled inside her chest in favour of focusing on those who she had met so far. There were still so many others there for Kevin—and for her, she was beginning to realize—that it warmed her heart. She wanted to know them all. She wanted to thank them all.

If the alters had not become who they were, there was a likely possibility that Kevin would not have survived to meet her.

For any of them to meet her.

Perhaps…she could help Dr. Fletcher.

These days, soulmarks made everything legitimate. If she were to let Fletcher use her and Kevin—with all twenty-three of his alters—as an example that would prove they were real, that the other identities really existed, maybe they could help others to open their eyes. It would be the most terrifying thing she would ever do, exposing herself to the world in such a manner, but it might just be the way of saving others like her and Kevin in the future.

Sighing as she leaned back into her pillows, head coming to rest on the headboard of her bed, Iris closed her eyes.

It wasn’t going to be an easy decision—she barely came up with the courage to talk with the older woman in the first place. Voluntarily putting herself into view of all those who hate someone like her?

Suddenly, her parents didn’t scare her quite as much.

What would the other people in the world think? She and her soulmates would be hated, hunted and possibly attacked for what they were; for being different. Because the world couldn’t stand those who were different—they didn’t understand them, they feared them, and wanted to remove that which caused so much confusion in their perfect lives.

Collecting her laptop from the bed and placing it safely back in her case, Iris then perched on the end of her bed as she tried to relieve herself of the anxiety building up in her chest. She never thought the day would come that she would be debating on exposing herself so openly to the public.

The ways meeting a soulmate—or soulmates—changed her never really seemed to end.

That was the excuse she used when she found herself standing outside of Karen Fletcher’s office the next day, tugging nervously on the sleeves of her winter jacket as her heart raced in her chest nervously. The older woman was understandably surprised when Iris asked if she could come and see her; stating that she wanted to help in any way she could to bring awareness to those with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

She was left to wait as Dr. Fletcher finished with her previous appointment; such was the curse of always showing up early to things.

The waiting gave her time to regret her decision, but she forced herself to remain where she was and do as she had placed her mind. Strong and sure. That is what her soulmates were making her become, someone who was strong and sure.

The door to Dr. Fletcher’s office opened and Iris respectfully kept her eyes on the window as she listened to the person quietly tell the doctor farewell. Soft heels tapped slowly down the stairs as the other client left, prompting Iris to look over her shoulder to where Fletcher was waiting with a faint smile on her lips. “Come in, Iris.”

Bowing her head in thanks, Iris slipped passed Fletcher and entered the familiar office while she slowly undid the buttons of her coat. “I…I wanted to apologize for how I ran out on you, Doctor. I just-”

“Oh, dear, there’s absolutely no reason for you to apologize to me!” Fletcher rushed to dismiss Iris’s concerns, waving her hands as she moved over to take the chair that she had occupied the last time Iris was there.

Draping her coat over the back of her chair, Iris ignored the glance she received from Fletcher when she exposed herself more than she had the previous visit. Her arms were still covered by longer sleeves, but she had removed the thick, protective barrier of her jacket. Settling into the chair with a faint sigh, Iris couldn’t quite bring herself to relax as she repeated “this is for them” over and over in her head. She was doing this for her soulmates; they were the ones who were thought to not exist.

“I want the world to know they’re real,” she began right away, lacing her fingers above her lap as she met Fletcher’s surprised gaze. “The alters; I want people to stop thinking that they can be ‘cured’ and removed from existence. I want to help people realize that the identities created are real people, just with a shared body.”

Fletcher’s aged face softened with a smile as she lifted a hand to press her fingertips against her lips. “I see that they have changed you, Iris.” Her comment made the younger woman blush, looking away. They had, it was clear to see, even if she hadn’t spoken a single word. “If you don’t mind me asking, how many have you met?”

“Four,” Iris answered. Fletcher knew how many alters there were in Kevin’s body, so she would also be aware of the number of soulmates that Iris had. “Barry, Luke, BT and Patricia.”

Fletcher’s eyebrows went up in surprise, sitting forward in her chair suddenly. “Patricia? How was that meeting? I understand that many people become…unsettled when it comes to meeting a woman in a man’s body.”

A small frown pinched Iris’s expression, but it faded quickly as she thought back to when she had woken up to Patricia at her door. “I was having a nightmare and the others could feel it—the more soulmates I meet, the stronger an emotional connection we have—and Patricia came over and woke me up when she knocked on the door. Having her there was very…comforting. I didn’t have any trouble with the fact that she was an alter in Kevin’s body.”

Fletcher’s smile returned, nodding her head gratefully. Iris truly was perfect as their soulmate.

“Are you sure you’re ready to help them? To do what must be done to help people understand?”

Iris bowed her head a moment, falling silent as she, yet again, considered the other woman’s questions. They were the same ones that she had been asking herself.

“I’ve spent so long being scared; looking over my shoulder and fearing every shadow. I don’t want to do this forever. And…reading up on Dissociative Identity Disorder showed me that they really don’t think that these alters are…real. They think that with therapy and pills they’ll just disappear and I hate the thought of that. But these soulmarks are one thing that they consider…strong. They indicate that these alters are real people.”

Fletcher relaxed back into her seat as she smiled softly at the young woman before her. “Look at you, Iris. You’ve changed.”

I know.

Seeing her begin to fidget, Fletcher was quick to stray from that particular direction of conversation. “If you decide to do this, is can be completely anonymous; no identifying information will be given out. Perhaps if you and the others sign over consent for other professionals to study your situation, but that is entirely up to you.”

“I haven’t spoken to the others about any of this, so I can’t give you an answer for them. However, if you can promise me that it will be anonymous, then I’ll do it.” She closed her eyes as soon as the words left her mouth, forcing herself not to go back on them now.

She was not afraid. She would not hide. This was the decision she had made, on her own and with her own reasons.

“I’m very proud of you, Iris,” Fletcher confessed as she smiled at the younger woman again. Her expression provided the truth to her words; she looked at Iris like a grandmother would, basking in the accomplishments of her family. “And you should be proud of yourself.”

“I am,” she admitted bashfully. “Terrified, but proud.”

Fletcher shuffled toward the edge of her seat, moving closer to Iris as she continued to smile softly. “Talk to them about this, I’m sure they will be happy to support you if this is truly what you want. They’ve been trying to find a way to prove that they are real for a long time. One of the most upsetting things for them is to hear that people don’t think they are alive—real people that can feel emotional pain from the words of others.”

Iris’s face pinched in pain, sorrowed to know that her soulmates were being hurt.

“Is there anything else you would like to speak about while you’re here?” Fletcher prompted gently.

However, as much as Iris had improved since meeting her soulmates, the prompt still had her immediately coiling in on herself like taut spring. “No, that’s alright. Maybe…in time, but not yet.”

Holding up a hand to stall the woman’s hesitant stumbled, Fletcher shook her head. “That’s perfectly fine, dear. I’m not here to push or force. Just know that if there is ever someone you need to talk to, and you don’t want to say it to your soulmates, I will happily lend an ear. Whether you want my opinion or not is up to you. If you just want to talk and let something off your chest, I am here.”

Letting out a long, slow exhale, Iris offered a shaky smile and nodded her head.

Rising to her feet, Iris made up her mind. “I’ll talk to the others first, but I’m sure you’ll be seeing me again soon,” she explained calmly, quietly, as she collected her coat back over her arm and turned to face Fletcher with a soft look in his whiskey eyes.

That look alone told Fletcher that things were changing, and they were for the better. This young woman, as fragile and broken as she was, had a strength inside of her that was necessary for the soulmate for twenty-three separate identities. It was a hidden, buried strength, but it was there all the same. The more time that passed after having met and reconciled with Barry, the more visible that strength became. “I hope to see you again soon, dear. Say hello to the others for me?”

Nodding her head with a peaceful smile, much better than the tense one that had been growing as they spoke, Iris turned for the door. “I will, Dr. Fletcher. Have a good day.”

Once Iris had departed, the older woman leaned back in her chair with a soft and thoughtful hum. If the others supported Iris and they were able to use the soulmarks shared between the two bodies, there was a possibility that favour could finally be tipped in their direction. However, that did not mean that it would not be a struggle for them—especially for Iris. As much as Fletcher thrilled at the thought of solid proof, finally, that others would struggle to argue…she did not want to damage the small woman further.

Proud as she was that Iris was refusing to let her fear rule her, Fletcher was deeply concerned that the fear is also what had kept her safe for so long. Even with her soulmates there, Iris would be in danger of a dark change in her life.

Glancing over to the chair that the young woman had vacated, she could only hope that this would not turn out to be a terrible mistake. As much as she wished to reveal to the world the truth behind all of her years of research, she did not want to do so at the expense of Iris’s happiness and safety, and that of her soulmates.

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#The One With Whiskey Eyes #Split 2016 #James McAvoy #Split Fanfiction #Dennis #Patricia #Soulmate AU #Soulmates #D.I.D

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

You walked into my life like you had always lived there

Summary

Charles has resigned himself to a life alone in Paris, but he might be surprised by a visit from an "old friend"... Will they get another chance to reach happiness?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31463351

Words:3719 - Chapters:1/1

This morning, like every other morning, sitting on the terrace of the café downstairs from his small apartment, Charles was waiting for his usual coffee while watching the bustle of the street. Delivery men unloading their vans at the grocery store on the corner, the bookstore owner unpacking his shelves, a tourist couple having their picture taken with the view of Montmartre in the background. The passers-by, people going to work, others walking their dogs. All this lively and colorful world coming and going, talking, laughing, reminded him of the hallway of a certain school, in the mornings just before the students entered their classrooms.

And like every morning, Charles was acutely aware of his loneliness. He had voluntarily closed his mind to all other thoughts than his own.

Thoughts that were enough to torment him.

More often than not, they were memories which he forced himself to face. His mistakes, what he should or should not have done. Searching, dissecting when he had lost sight of his values. At what point he had let down those he had sworn to protect since the day he had discovered Raven in his kitchen so many years ago.

But appeasement never came.

At the beginning, Hank gave him news of the school, of the progress of the students, news of each one and then little by little the messages had spaced, Charles put more and more time to answer, letting the distance grow voluntarily. It was now 3 months that he had no news and it was good like that.

Raven, Jean, Alex... and the names of all the others were spinning in his head, like a macabre dance, a torture he was inflicting on himself to atone.

There was only one name that he refused to pronounce, that he refused to think about. The one name that had always been able to read him without having any telepathic powers.

"You're always sorry, Charles. And there's always a speech. But nobody cares anymore."

"Will that be all sir?"

The waitress, pulling him out of his musings, put his coffee on the table.

"Yes, thank you," Charles replied.

"Mutant and proud."

Raven had always been right,

"Or is that only with pretty mutations or invisible ones, like yours. But if you're a freak, better hide."

Mutant yes, but proud he was no longer. He was the freak who had to hide.

He took a sip of his coffee and ran his hand over his face.

He suddenly felt a presence behind his back, and a shiver went through him at the sound of the voice with such familiar inflections,

"How's retirement treating you Charles?"

Erik sat down and placed a small case containing a chess set at his feet. Why was he there? To taunt him? To provoke him? Charles resisted the temptation to read his mind. He clenched his fist on his knee. Erik was the only one to provoke this storm of emotions in him. The only one who had the capacity to unsettle him.

So as always he chose the attack,"What are you doing here, Erik?"

He finally dared to meet Erik's eyes, and he almost gasped, because, in the blue-gray eyes, there was nothing of the harshness, of the disappointment from their last meeting. Erik's gaze was kind and open as he replied with a slight smile, "I came to see an old friend. Fancy a game?"

Erik showed him the chess set at their feet. Their usual chess game, the moment when their minds clashed. That space outside of time, where despite the fights and conflicts, they always managed to find each other. But this time Charles wasn't sure he had the strength to offer Erik a worthy opponent. So he shook his head and replied, "No, not today. Thank you."

He looked away. He couldn't look at Erik when so many emotions were running through him. He was sure he would never see the only man he had ever loved again, and there he was in front of him, beautiful, making Charles even more aware of his own state.

"A long time ago, you saved my life. Then you offered me a home. I'd like to do the same for you."

Charles studied Erik's expression for a long time. Always the same openness and acceptance. He was once again tempted to read Erik's mind.

"You can, you know." Erik made the hand motion that Charles made when he wanted to access someone's mind.

As always he had seen right through Charles, but again no disappointment or disgust in the voice and the eyes.

Charles after swallowing, answered in a slightly hoarse voice, having trouble containing his emotions.

"I don't do that anymore."

Erik simply nodded with a half smile, put his hands in his pockets, then took them out, and held them out in front of him in clenched fists, just like in the old days.

"Just one game. For old times' sake."

Charles gave in, he didn't feel like fighting anymore, he didn't feel like pretending. So he held out his hand to Erik's right fist, which opened to a white pawn.

Erik said with a slight teasing smile, "I'll go easy on you."

Charles replied with the same smile, just a little more hesitant, "No, you won't."

As they set up the pieces, Erik added, "I might surprise you, you know Charles."

Charles stopped his motion as he went to move a knight, and said with emotion in his voice as he stared into Erik's eyes, "You already have."

Time stood still for a moment, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other. Then Charles continued his movement and the game resumed.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished their game. It was Erik who had won. But as always, no matter who won, neither of them cared, the important thing was the duel not the result.

"Well?" inquired Erik as he closed the chess set, "Did you have time to think about my offer?"

"Did you mean it?" Charles hoped Erik couldn't hear the eagerness in his voice, because he really wanted to accept Erik's offer. But did he deserve it? Did he have a right to this home Erik was offering him? And what did a home even mean?

His hand began to tremble slightly, as if he wanted to grasp something, but didn't dare. He closed his eyes to compose himself.

He felt a hand rest on his as Erik's voice said softly, "Charles...". He opened his eyes. Erik's hand opened his clenched fist and intertwined his fingers with his. Charles slowly raised his eyes to Erik's face.

The urge to surrender, to let go, hit Charles even harder. He could see so much in Erik's eyes, but he was so afraid of being disappointed and of disappointing... again. He closed his fingers over Erik's and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

Erik continued, "Charles, no demands, no debts, no obligations, this is completely free, I'm just offering you a simple and protected life. It's far from a castle life, but Genosha is a small, isolated island where we have created a self-sufficient community. Most of the inhabitants are like us, "retired" mutants with wounds to heal. You can-"

Charles interrupted him, "It's okay Erik, no need to say any more, I accept. " and after a moment of silence, he added, "Thank you."

Erik simply smiled, put his other hand over their entwined hands and said, "I'm just showing the same generosity that you have shown to me over and over again. No need for gratitude between us. We are just two friends and..."

Erik paused as if he were about to say something else.

"And?" asked Charles, curious about what Erik had stopped himself from saying.

For the first time since the beginning of this meeting, Erik looked a little unsettled before answering, "Nothing... well at least not now."

Charles didn't insist, he knew there was a lot to clear up between them. But now that he had decided to follow Erik to his island, he knew they had time.

"So how do we do this?"

Erik replied as he stood up, "I'll go with you to your flat, you take what you need for a few days, and we'll leave for Genosha. You can get the rest delivered later."

"So soon?"

"Why wait? Do you have obligations here, people to say goodbye to?"

"No!" replied Charles curtly, angry at having been found out once again.

He began to roll his wheelchair quickly toward the entrance of his building. Erik joined him in two strides before putting his hand on his shoulder. Charles felt bad for being so touch starved that this simple touch immediately soothed him.

"Charles, I know what it's like, I've been there. Don't get upset. It wasn't a criticism or a mockery." He squeezed Charles' shoulder before letting his hand fall back.

"I know..." sighed Charles. "Come on."

As they walked through the door of Charles' tiny apartment, sensing that Erik was about to say something, Charles admonished him, "Don't say anything."

Erik waved his hand, as if he were zipping up his mouth without hiding his smile, but finally couldn't help himself.

"My Charles, do you live in that shoebox? I'm disappointed in you! Pretty spartan."

Seeing Charles' dark glare, he pretended to surrender. "Ok, ok, I'm not saying anything more."

Charles muttered, "Liar."

Then they gathered Charles' things and a few hours later they were on their way to Genosha.

__________

Two weeks later, Charles was unpacking the last of the boxes that had just arrived, mostly books. Erik had built him some makeshift shelves. His "residence" like all of Genosha’s, was made of salvaged materials, but Charles didn't mind. Although he had always lived in a certain opulence, he knew how to make do with little.

"Need a hand?"

Erik had just stepped through the curtain that served as a door.

"I'm not saying no."

They hadn't had time to really talk and clear the air between them, but Erik was very thoughtful. Charles was a little insecure, not knowing where he stood. So he decided to just take things as they came. If he was honest with himself, he knew how he felt about Erik. But he wouldn't act, he didn't want to risk breaking the friendship they were rebuilding.

Erik had begun unpacking a box of books.

"Do you have a particular order?"

"No put them on the shelves as they come for now."

So Erik began to put the books away, commenting on some of the titles.

"Oh Charles, Charlotte Brontë really? Jane Eyre as well?"

"Hey Erik, just because you're helping me doesn't mean you have to like what I read."

"Ho Ho! You even marked a page."

Charles remembered, what page and what words he had written in the margin.

"Erik, please put that book away, it doesn't matter."

But he could see from Erik's face that he wasn't about to let go, so he resigned himself and closed his eyes waiting for a reaction, of what kind, he didn't know.

"Charles?"

Charles squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Yes?"

"Is that about me?"

Charles had a small self-deprecating laugh before he replied, "I don't know any other Erik, so yes."

"What do you mean with 'you left Erik and now I'm bleeding'?"

Charles let out a big sigh and put his head in his hands. "This is really embarrassing...it's in relation to the underlined passage that's a little higher up if I remember correctly."

He knew the phrase by heart, because it had resonated in a special way since he'd met Erik, but he hadn't expected the raw emotion that ran through him when he heard Erik read the words aloud.

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.”

Charles heard Erik put the book down, and a sound of footsteps, he still didn't want to open his eyes, he was too afraid of what he would read in Erik's eyes. He was aware of Erik's presence very close to him, then a hand clasped his.

"Charles, please look at me." Erik's voice was almost pleading, Charles didn't resist and opened his eyes, to see that Erik had knelt down to be at his level. Then he looked up at Erik's eyes, afraid of what he would find there, and gasped, Erik looked almost amazed, yes that's right, amazed.

"Charles is that how you still feel?" Erik asked him in an pressing tone, his eyes scanning his, leaving Charles no escape.

Charles swallowed, and despite his tight throat, he tried to answer, "Yes."

"But when... I mean since when?"

"When? Do you remember the day you managed to unlock your power. The day you let me access that memory? Well since that day, I've felt this very strong connection between us."

Erik tightened his grip on his hand and asked, "And those words in the margin?"

Charles' voice was a whisper, "After the missiles and the beach, when you left."

"Oh Charles, I...I'm so sorry." The regret was genuine in Erik's eyes.

"Don't be anymore, it's been a long time since I forgave you and since then I think I've made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. Some of which have more consequences than losing my legs. Raven was right, I had forgotten who I was. Why I started all this in the first place. I lost sight of what was important, I lost... I lost so much. And I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, and... I'm not as evolved as I thought I was. You say you're sorry Erik, but you don't know how sorry I am. Forgive me I... I must..."

Charles had to go, he had to get out, the grief he had been feeling since he left school, no even before, since Raven's death, it was all threatening to come out, he didn't want to fall apart like that in front of Erik.

But Erik was keeping him from walking away. Still kneeling and holding his hand.

"Erik, please move over... let go of me, I have to get out, I-" the tears were starting to blur his vision, with his free hand he was trying to push his wheelchair forward.

"Charles, stop! You don't have to leave. You don't have to be alone anymore. You are not alone!"

Erik loosened Charles other hand's grip on the wheel, and suddenly took him in his arms, and he felt his lips move against his head and the words came to his ears "Charles, you can let go, even though I've failed you many times in the past, this time I won't. Let it go. Don't be afraid, I'll catch you."

Because Charles no longer had the strength to stay strong, because he was craving for someone to lean on, he let go. He let the grief engulf him, because he knew Erik was there and would keep him from drowning.

Erik continued to hold him and whispered over and over, "That's it, let it all out. I'm here mein Liebster. Let it out."

Once the crying dried up, exhaustion fell on Charles and he fell asleep in Erik's arms. He was sleeping so deeply that Erik had been able to lift him out of his wheelchair without him waking up and now he was lying with his back against Erik's front, his head under his chin and Erik's arms wrapped around Charles.

Erik had been torn when he saw his beloved overwhelmed by grief and wondered how long it had been since Charles had been able to express his pain. He had always been attracted to the shining side of Charles, he often compared them to two sides of the same coin. But when he'd found him in Paris, he'd seen that all that light was like dulled.

"Erik..." the still broken voice Charle continued, "Thank you..."

"Sshh Charles, I told you no thanks are needed between us."

"Yeah..." Erik felt Charles relax against him again.

"Sleep, meine Liebster."

Much later, Erik was awakened by a gentle brushing sensation on his face. He opened his eyes, found himself facing Charles, who was withdrawing his hand as if he had been caught with his hands in the jam jar. Erik grabbed his hand and placed it back on his own cheek.

"Don't stop Charles..."

He saw Charles' expression ease as he gently stroked his face with feather-like touches, tracing Erik's facial lines with his fingertips.

Their faces were so close that Erik immediately caught sight of Charles gulping as a veil of sadness passed over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I've lost you so many times already," Charles murmured.

"But I'm still here and so are you. Now we're together."

Erik couldn't resist, he crossed the remaining distance between them and put his lips to Charles'. It was as if everything fell into place in their worlds at that moment.

They remained for a long time, joined in a soft and almost innocent embrace.

Charles moved back and stared at Erik, looking for something in his eyes. He must have found what he was looking for because he smiled. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

His lips parted and he pressed them to Erik's again. Erik licked the corner of his mouth and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, then kissed him. Charles quickly opened up to him, welcoming him wordlessly with his lips and hands in his hair. His tongue mimicked the actions of hers, and soon they were drinking from each other's lips, caught up in a thirst that would not seem to be quenched.

Erik slid his hands to Charles' waist, and pulled him as close as he could get. Charles' head fell back with a moan as Erik’s fingers slipped under his shirt and caressed his back. Erik took advantage of his distraction and lowered his head even further to press himself against his neck. He felt the slide of his tongue against his skin, then his teeth biting the same spot. Charles had a slight startle. His hands slid over Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in. Erik immediately raised his head, worried about his reaction. "Not good?"

"No. Good. Really good," Charles reassured him in a gentle sigh. Erik smiled fondly and returned his attentions to Charles' neck. But Charles groaned and tugged at his hair, pulling Erik toward him so he could take his lips again.

Much later, as they both caught their breath. Lips to lips, forehead to forehead, Charles asked Erik, "I don't know if I was dreaming or not, but before you called me 'mein liebster', 'my dearest' if I am not mistaken."

For the first time since he had known him, Charles saw Erik's cheeks turn slightly pink. However, Erik's voice was perfectly assured as he replied, "You were not dreaming mein Liebster." He punctuated his words with a tender kiss.

"Unless you prefer, mein Schatz, my treasure." Another kiss.

"Or mein Geliebter, my beloved." Another kiss.

It was now Charles's turn to have slightly red cheeks. But he, too, looked Erik squarely in the eye and asked, "Is that really what I am?"

"Yes, my love and much more." Erik emphasized this with another kiss.

"Since when?"

"I'll show you. By looking into my thoughts in the brightest corner of my sensory memory like you did that time, you will find an additional memory beyond the one you found to help me unlock my powers."

Charles began to protest, "No Erik, I don't want to-"

Erik put a finger over his mouth, "Shhh, I'm asking you to."

He took Charles' hand and placed his fingers against his temple, in the familiar gesture he had when he wanted to access someone's thoughts.

Erik, visibly moved, addressed Charles, "What did you just do to me?"

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you"

"I didn't know I still had that."

Charles put his hand on his shoulder and said with strength and emotion in his voice, "There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There's good to you, I felt it. And when you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me."

When Charles exited Erik's head, they were both deeply moved by the strength of the emotions of the shared memory.

Erik pressed his forehead against Charles'.

"What you told me that day, that there was good to me, that you felt it. It's a memory as happy as my mother's. It was also that day that I felt the connection between us. That I knew that-"

Erik paused for a moment.

"That you knew what?"

"That I was hopelessly and madly in love with you. I love you Charles. We've fought together, we've clashed, we've been through terrible trials sometimes together, sometimes against each other, but this, what I feel for you has always been my ultimate truth. I love you Charles."

Charles once again gasped, this time at the open adoration he read on Erik's face.

He raised his hand to his face, tracing the outline of it he said, his voice broken, "Despite all the detours I've taken, all the bad decisions you or I have made, every time, when it counted, you were there by my side, that unchanging presence. I can't tell where you start and where I end. I love you Erik, more than my life."

There. That moment. This moment of perfect communion after all they had been through. The fate, the choices, the events that had separated them, brought them together in a spiral that never seemed to end, it was all over. It was time for them to live. It wasn't the end, it was the beginning. This was their story.

___________

Although I am very familiar with X-men - Movie verse, I have never written for this fandom before. After rewatching Dark Phoenix, I'm only holding onto this ending scene. I wanted to write about Erik and Xavier from there. I hope I did them justice.

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed your reading.

#x men movies #erik lehnsherr #magneto #charles xavier #professor x #cherik #getting together #post Dark Phoenix

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somesaycosmo · 3 years

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laurence, the first vicar - an analysis

hi! this is future marie, when i'm going back through and finalizing my draft of this post. this was originally meant to just be an analysis of laurence's song, but it turned into more than that, so just bear with it!

"oh look it's my favorite boss soundtrack in soulsborne! thankfully, bloodborne is a very simple game with straightforward lore, and the lyrics of its tracks are similarly straightforward, so there's not much to analyze here." -a quote from an alternate universe marie who was blessed with a game that didn't give her frenzy

"bloodborne's tracks have lyrics?" you might ask - and yes, in fact, they do! many of them have choral lyrics in latin, including mr laurence "i forgot the sacred adage" lastname's track here.

before we start, please listen to the song, if only because it's very good

this post is using the translated lyrics from this bloodborne wiki, while taking some liberties with the interpretation based on the game's lore. i do not know latin, but if anyone does, i'd love for them to hit me up. i'm also going to specifically tag @rococospade-main, both to shout them out for being great to discuss bloodborne lore with (it's where i got the idea to write this post)

as always, lore starts below the line

so the song starts with 4 lines, as follows

Children, know that if you will abide by the sacred rite with great commitment There will be a reward through the Holy Blood You will be rewarded with the hidden Holy Blood Or, maybe I shall lose my humanity through the Holy Blood

already starting off strong with the "questioning one's faith" vibes, eh, larry?

"children" might be in reference to actual children, or it might be the thing priests do, where they're called "father" and stuff (can you tell i'm not christian?) with laurence in this case being the "father" and the disciples of the church being his "children"

the reward from the holy blood is, of course, ascension, which we all know everyone from byrgenwerth strived for, because they're losers. "hidden holy blood" might be in reference to ebrietas bein all locked up in the chalice dungeons?

"maybe i shall lose my humanity through the holy blood" is, based on how early it is in the song, likely about laurence looking forward; loss of humanity is seen as a good thing, because it means ascension. the dramatic irony of this is of course obvious, considering the song plays when we're beating the shit out of laurence's fallen and bestial form - because loss of humanity can also mean other things, it turns out.

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy You are obsessed with this mystery And you shall be overcome by bestiality

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy We are hindered by this mystery Water does not achieve success

now laurence is speaking to the gods instead of to his followers. "we honor you with blood / yet you judge this as blasphemy" is likely him pleading to the gods. the description of the defiled chalice reads, "Curses are caused by inciting the anger of the Great Ones, and used to hex others." this paints a picture of the gods as somewhat vengeful; it makes sense that the beastly scourge, then, would be hypothesized to be a plague cast upon humanity for some sin they've committed, and laurence would know best what exactly that sin is.

"you are obsessed with this mystery / and you shall be overcome by bestiality" seems out of place in the rest of this section, given it's the only one that refers to humanity as "you," but i've taken this as it being the gods replying to laurence in the song, with the mystery likely being "how to ascend to godhood". this is the blasphemy you have committed, they say, and you shall be overcome by bestiality

"we are hindered by this mystery" once again, we're talking from laurence's perspective. firstly, laurence for the first time admits that obsession with ascension might not be so great, actually.

"water does not achieve success" this could be interpreted as talking about the whole "great bodies of water are often bulwarks" thing discussed in the lake and sea runes, laurence sort of saying "protecting ourselves from the truth does nothing to help us ascend," with water, effectively, being "safety." to go further, in my personal interpretation, this is more about the comparison of blood and water. you know that old saying, "blood is thicker than water"? that came to mind immediately while reading these lyrics, given the constant talking about blood in the song (and in the game). perhaps here laurence is comparing water to blood with water, water being "safety" and blood being "success" (ascension). to reference the item description for the white church set, "They believe that medicine is not a means of treatment but rather a method for research, and that some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness." this will come up later.

By the Gods, friend Be afraid By the Gods, friend The Blood Be afraid You are right to

this is familiar! this could be willem speaking, this could be laurence speaking to someone else, or this could be laurence speaking to himself (my writer's brain imagines him muttering this quietly to himself in despair as his mental health and questioning of his faith declines) - due to "you are right to [fear the blood]," i lean towards him talking to himself as if talking to willem, perhaps wishing he had actually feared the old blood, or saying that willem is better off for doing so. regardless, it is incredibly reminiscent of the sacred adage ("fear the old blood" etc etc we all know it by heart at this point), and is likely supposed to be that.

It will be a majestic festivity By the Holy Blood So come, this sweet wine O defiled juice (this has to mean "wine" or "drink" i refuse to believe laurence would refer to the holy blood as a juice. i will not allow it)

this one, oddly, seems to indicate a toneshift - i would argue it's a result of his spiraling mental state. throughout the song he's questioning his faith and his actions, chanting his old mentor's sacred adage to himself; his life up to this point is a life of success while the cure and path to ascension he was peddling to yharnam turns them into horrific beasts. so he ends up doubling down on the religious fervor he started this endeavor with. this delves more into headcanon territory, so bear with me for a second:

have you ever thought about why laurence drops the beast's embrace rune?

laurence, the first vicar, the first cleric beast, drops the rune that allows you to enter a state of controlled beasthood whenever you want (provided you use a beastly weapon, of course). isn't that odd? shouldn't he drop something that, like, increases the amount blood vials heal you? maybe super duper extra special communion +6? why would he drop that rune, of all things, especially when the game already has a named character they could've put in to drop it (that being irreverent izzy)?

let's look at the item description.

After the repeated experiments in controlling the scourge of beasts, the gentle "Embrace" rune was discovered.

When its implementation failed, the "Embrace" became a forbidden rune, but this knowledge became a foundation of the Healing Church.

now i am not necessarily going to suggest that laurence dreamed up the beast's embrace rune himself - it could make sense, but that isn't necessary for the rest of what i'm about to say, which is this: the last part of the song is laurence giving into beasthood voluntarily.

perhaps he believed so strongly in the blood of ebrietas taking him to ascension that he decided beasthood must be it, must be the next step for humanity; perhaps, in a final move of desperation, he tried to control beasthood by experimenting on himself with this rune; or perhaps he had already imbibed so much of the old blood that he couldn't control his need to spill the blood of others.

personally, i lean toward the second interpretation. let's look at the description of laurence's (human) skull:

Skull of Laurence, first vicar of the Healing Church. In reality he became the first cleric beast, and his human skull only exists within the Nightmare.

The skull is a symbol of Laurence's past, and what he failed to protect. He is destined to seek his skull, but even if he found it, it could never restore his memories.

firstly, i'd just like to point out the irony in the statement "he is destined to seek his skull"; he spends his human life seeking ascension, and when he achieves metamorphosis, he is cursed to spend that form trying to find his humanity again, mindless, lost in a nightmare.

secondly, and more to the point, let's look at the line "a symbol of laurence's past, and what he failed to protect." examining this item for its symbolism is fairly clear - it's a relic of laurence's humanity, and that's exactly what he failed to protect, the humanity of himself and others. this description leads me to believe he wanted to protect humanity, but failed.

a lot of interpretations of him have him as this truly evil person who was just deceiving the city of yharnam for his own personal gain, but honestly, i don't buy that. that's not what bloodborne is about. i mean bloodborne is and can be about a lot of things, and i could ascribe dozens of basic thematic interpretations of it off the top of my head, but characterization that simple doesn't fit bloodborne (and, frankly, it's not tragic enough for miyazaki).

so, with all that combined, why do i believe that laurence branded himself with beast's embrace in an attempt to further research on the control of beasthood, so as to protect humanity? well, to go back to an item description from earlier, some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness.

thank you for reading.

#bloodborne #bloodborne lore #laurence the first vicar #that one post that's like catholicism is problematic but catholicism is sexy #song analysis?? i guess??#lore analysis definitely

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