[You knew they were demons. You knew they took souls for their king. But you've never actually seen them in their 'true form'.]
{0.5k words}
You were struggling between sleep deprivation and finding a bottle of hot sauce for Baby. You didn't want to go, you really didn't, but who could refuse Baby's wide eyes and his pout? "Where's the stupid bottle..."
Finally, you grabbed the last bottle from the shelf and paid for it. Mumbling curses under your breath, you boarded the lift to your apartment- the penthouse unit, of course. Unfortunately for the boys, you failed to hear them talking to Gwi-Ma. Unbeknownst to you, it was the whole reason Baby had asked you to visit the supermarket- Gwi-Ma had demanded a meeting to discuss on their process of world conquering.
"Hey, I'm back-" you froze in shock. Crowding around a fire, shadows danced across their faces in the dark room- while the brightness from the flame lit up their fangs. Their demon markings even glowed in the dark, like a freaking light show. "What the hell?" You exclaimed. Jinu was the first to react- trying to stand in front of the purplish fire while it slowly dissipated. Abby whipped around, abs somehow even more defined while Romance flipped on the light switch. Mystery turned towards you slowly, his tusks curled just like his bangs. Baby gave an awkward laugh, eyes still glowing golden.
"Thought you would be held up longer..." He muttered. Jinu's eyes started to lose its gold sheen as he apologised, "Sorry... We didn't mean to scare you.." while Abby nodded, retracting his claws- Oh my gods, they had claws- long and jagged, yet somehow still breathtaking.
"Wait. What are you doing?" You asked while the Saja boys internally cringed, waiting for you to comment on their appearance. But they didn't expect your next words.
"Oh my gosh oh my gosh, you're so hottt!!!" You squealer, totally fangirling. They were somehow impossibly ten times hotter with their swirling patterns and eyes that absolutely HYPNOTISED you. In fact, you were so busy drooling and nearly passing out due to the level of 'hotness' that you forgot all about the weird bonfire they surrounded earlier.
They were so confused. Like, confused didn't even cut it. The last humans they accidentally revealed their forms to bolted away, screaming their heads off. And here you were, eyes glued to their bodies and faces, ogling shamelessly.
"Don't change back." You coaxed. They slowly reverted back into their demon forms. You practically glided towards Romance before touching his face gently, fingers brushing over his fangs. Then you looked to the rest. "You're all beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful." You breathed, hot sauce long forgotten and discarded on the floor. Baby hesitantly approached you, before pouncing on you and hugging you so tight you couldn't breathe.
The others visibly relaxed, their previously tense shoulders lowering as they silently repeated your words in your head. "You don't think we look.. scary? Or ugly?" Mystery whispered. You gave him a warm smile and a brush of lips across his cheek in response, catching the purr that sounded from his throat.
Anyways, you all found yourselves on the sofa, watching your favourite Disney movies together. You alternated between admiring them, still in their demon forms, and singing off-tune with the songs in Rapunzel. Baby was chugging his hot sauce while draped across your lap, Mystery resting his head on your shoulder, Romance and Abby sharing popcorn while Jinu silently watched. (you, not the movie)
A/N: Oh my gods, this took me so long and I'm so sorry if it sucksss <:
Y’know, giant robots are pretty cool ngl. Transformers, mechas(robots controlled by humans, but still), and more.
But I think we need some more giant android love a well. Yes, they look like a human and act like a human, but I feel there’s so much to explore in terms of giant/tiny relationships within the subject matter. Especially when you look at it through the lens of an android trying to find humanity and it navigating those steps. The complexity only increasing as the android must also attempt to forge a relation with someone much smaller than themselves, but with as much agency, a situation that most definitely isn’t a part of their programming and one that requires delicacy and humanity, the latter being the missing component the android is trying to find.
I’d imagine there would be so many fear-play scenarios as well. Just imagine a tiny being caught by a behemoth, but the thing that catches them doesn’t react, well, it doesn’t react in the way one would expect. It stares coldly and repeats demands, such as asking the tiny repeatedly to calm down. After many failed attempts, they simply immobilize the smaller form within their hands, thinking they are de-escalating the situation, while in fact, the android is doing the opposite. Then, after taking control of the situation, the android questions the tiny, treating the interaction like any other they would encounter because they physically can’t understand what is actually going on. The tiny is utterly confused and remains terrified, tears beginning to form, because they are being squeezed and yelled at by someone who is taking the situation in utter coolness. There is nothing behind their captor's eyes, just empty spaces looking onto the tiny’s form. But the tiny doesn’t understand why; they don’t even know what an android is, which is what makes the situation 10x more terrifying for them. They think they’ve fallen into the hands of a psychopath, while in actuality, they are in the hands of a robot who is trying their best to internally compute the situation, and taking the best course of action depending on what their programming tells them - sadly for the android, the situation requires a human touch, an idea foreign to them.
Eventually, the tiny begins to realize that there is something really off. After their adrenaline dissipates and they begin to stumble some words out, while stopping their wiggling, the android returns their hand to a cupped position, and the tiny feels how cold and fake the surface below them is. It’s as if they’re standing on a fabricated material, no heat escaping through the hand, only an ambient temperature matching the surrounding surface, random cool spots here and there, the tiny unable to understand why. Eventually, the tiny builds up the courage to ask what their captor is, and, as if their captor were speaking from a script (let’s be honest, it’s cause they are), a generic line about how they’re an android with (insert purpose here) is shared. The tiny, obviously unknowing of what an android is, continues to ask questions, and the android, following protocol, answers. Treating the tiny like any other being the android has encountered, but is incapable of understanding how to maneuver around their size.
The tiny decides to stay with the android, realizing that what they have is essentially a massive piece of technology that can help them in multiple ways. And the android is indifferent to the situation. The tiny is another owner, another person to order the android around. Why would the android care about that? But, over time. The android begins to become more… Human. Breaking past their original programming to become something better adapted to deal with their smaller counterpart, and a better counterpart in general. Not just answering with basic answers anymore whenever the tiny had a question or just wanted to chat, instead, they actually begin to engage - why this is happening? Their code cannot explain it. They’re evolving past their original purpose.
Perhaps one day the tiny is having a particularly bad day, their foraging attempt gone awry, ending with them getting lost in the rain for a few hours before eventually returning to where they left the android. And the android looks at them curiously, seeing the tiny’s clear discomfort, but struggling to figure out what to do. That is, until they offer a cupped hand to the tiny, an action they had never done before unless specifically requested. The tiny is confused, but they climb on anyway, too tired to really care. And then, for an inexplicable reason, the giant brings the tiny to its chest in an attempt to comfort them. And it works. Despite the android's limbs being cold due to the aid of coolants, their core aka their chest, remains at a warmer temperature, warm enough to bring comfort to the tiny form within their hand. As the tiny lies between the android’s hand and chest, they can both hear and feel a hum as the components within the android work to keep it going. It’s soothing. The tiny doesn’t go to sleep or anything; they just sit and listen, letting the heat surround them as they get lost in thought. “Why was the android doing this?” The thought reverberated within their skull. From everything they learned about androids from the android itself, they didn’t think this kind of thought was possible. It almost scared them. But they were curious about how it would play out, so they’d stay. Unaware that this action would only further the android's code-altering progression. Where does the future lead? Who knows.
summary: little headcannons of artem wing as a child till highschool and the family dynamics behind it
characters: artem wing | zuǒ rán and his parents
warning(s): none
word count: 1.3k
a/n: this one is a lil angsty—more bittersweet i would say! i tried to keep artem as true to his character as i could,,, i’ll leave some a/n down below too to explain more! enjoy <3
𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦 (𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥):
✦ In elementary, he used to wait an extra thirty minutes without complaint for his mother to pick him up. The woman would profusely apologize to her son, pressing a quick kiss to his temple as she hastily got him into the car. She asks him quick questions and he tries not to get too excited because he knows his mother is a busy woman. So he answers with soft replies and pink-tinged cheeks when he remembers something that elated him in class. He completely misses his mothers wistful eyes glancing at him in the mirror like clockwork.
✦ His babysitter would wait for him at home and the exchange was quick. His mother would wave goodbye, at times she’d blow a kiss, and she’d be off to work once more. “Artem is a good kid,” is what all his sitters used to say because Artem would stay quiet and polite and very very rarely did he ask for attention since he understood that busy people could not stop for a moment in their pursuit of ambition.
✦ In second grade, his parents had taken him out to find a Halloween costume. The time alone made his heart flutter and his ears pink (it’s when he learned how important quality time was). He shook his head shyly at every other costume they suggested, knowing if he chose one the day would be over. That and he had never liked the holiday that much. Maybe his Kindergarten teacher was right, maybe he lacked the imagination a child should have (don’t tell his parents that though). In the end, he asks his parents clumsily with shining ocean eyes if he could dress as a lawyer. They find him a suit and a periwinkle tie—oh gods, his mother will not stop grinning and snapping photos. It makes him feel warm, so he lets her take a few more.
✦ When little Artem had come down with a nasty cold that didn’t leave for a worrying amount of time, he found himself writhing in his tiny bed, clutching onto the sheets. The house was cold as it always was but he felt as though he were on fire. A coughing fit and a sitter calling his parents is the last he remembers. Though when night comes, something cool presses against his forehead. He cracks his tired eyes open finding it odd that he’s pressed against something familiar, that wasn’t the comfort of his bed. Shhh, someone whispers in a deep voice, rubbing circles into his back, Go back to bed. It’s a vague, vague memory that he’s convinced he made up in his fever-delirious mind. S-School… he croaked out, shifting upright. When he looks up once more he recognizes the silver eyes that look down on him. His father. It’s okay, you can miss a day Artem, murmured his father, pressing his cold hands on Artems forehead. The boy leans into the touch. I’ll be here when you wake up, said Mr. Wing as if he had known what Artem was thinking. I promise you, my love.
✦ At the start of middle school, the sitters are long gone. He’s been walking home now for years yet this time, he dreads the cold and lonely house that waits for him. He wants to call his parents when the sun begins to set because they aren’t home yet but he doesn’t want to disturb them.
✦ It’s the summer going into ninth grade when Artem decides to learn how to cook. He’s efficient enough to make basic meals without burning the house down and… he’s not sure why but he can’t stomach the take-out that he gets during the majority of the week when his parents leave him with a credit card and an apologetic note.
✦ He saves every single note.
✦ He’s surprised to find out that cooking is easy, fun—therapeutic. He sits alone in his dining room, diligently typing his thesis while a bowl of congee cools beside him. It’s at the last sentence of his essay does he stop to realize his food has gone cold, almost as cold as the aura that suffocated his family house. Yet, he still tries it and he still something small, something melancholic flitters in his eyes. I wish they could try it too… Artem swallows back the thought with a spoonful of congee.
✦ [He still leaves extras in a tupperware container in the fridge on the off chance they come home hungry]
✦ The week after, he finds a worn out book open in the kitchen. He instantly recognizes it as the family cookbook his mother would try pluck recipes from. Truthfully, he’s unsure why it’s there but he has his guesses. A small smile tugs at his lips and his chest becomes ridiculously warm. When Artem grabs the book he doesn’t see the note that slides out of the pages. Written in black ink it read, I found this for you, love. It looks like you’ll be needing it more than your father and I ever have. Love, Mom.
✦ [When Mrs. Wing comes home at the dead of night, shrugging her blazer off with a sigh, she’s surprised to see the note left on the ground. Her lips purse into a tight line but she says nothing more, crumpling it up in the palm of her hand before she throws it in the trash.]
✦ Artem Wing does not resent his parents. They’re thriving and they’re trying and they’re doing their best. That’s what he understands. Even so, it’s only natural when his heart lurches in his chest during another late night study in the Stellis’ public library without even a buzz from his phone. Since he had started high school, he tried to avoid the suffocating isolation that was his home. He would spend days and nights studying until there was a little outline of bags under his eyes. Calls and texts became less and less frequent now that he was older though sometimes, he wishes he wasn’t.
✦ Artem does not expect his mother to be home for his seventeenth birthday. So he stares at her with his ocean eyes wide when he comes back from the library around ten, with his mother asleep on the sofa, sitting upright. There’s a neatly wrapped gift in her hands. Mom? He had whispered guiltily. At the sound of her son, Mrs. Wings sky-blue eyes begin to flutter and she looks at him with a soft smile. Happy Birthday Artem, she said sleepily, Your father was waiting for you too but he had to go. I’m sorry, my love. She holds out the gift in her hands which Artem slowly takes in his own. I’m sorry... I thought you both were working... he murmured. Artem pressed a kiss onto his mothers forehead, Thank you Mom, he says.
✦ Holidays are a busy time of year. Stores purge their storages while customers splurge their checks to buy the best of decorations, the best of gifts for the people they hold in their hearts. Snow has begun to set in Stellis but Artem doesn’t mind. He’s used to the cold. Christmas Eve is spent alone, baking cookies in the kitchen while he quietly hums to traditional Chinese opera. Christmas Day is like a routine, something he’s grown accustomed to. Artem takes a fresh batch of cookies to his parents' law firm, wrapping them in a box with a burgundy bow for the season. Of course, he doesn’t see them. An assistant tells him they’re with a client and for the millionth time Artem assures the assistant it’s okay when he hands the box over. Merry Christmas, carrying the ache in his heart with grace.
✦ Though, he misses when his father leaves his office, eyes wide at the sight of his son exiting the building. Artem, he wants to call out to him but Mr. Wing swallows it back because the doors have already shut. Merry Christmas, Artem, he says in his heart.
✦ His mother and father FaceTime him the morning of his high school graduation. Artem awoke to the cold comforting him for one last time. We’re so proud of you, grinned his mother. She still retained her young looks but age and work most likely, had hardened her eyes. We’re sorry we can’t make it, chimed his father. His parents had been called for a case out of Stellis nearly two weeks ago. They were planning to come but their flight had been pushed back despite their attempts to find a different plane. He brushes it off with ease, thanks them with care. It’s okay, Artem replied. It doesn’t really matter, the ceremony is just a formality anyways.
✦ He misses the guilty look the two of them share.
✦ He carries the ache, the warmth, the ambition in him so quietly when he’s called to accept his diploma. For he, started out as a Wing.
a/n: oookaay,,,, what i was gonna say was to be honest, i feel like artem wouldn’t be the type to be super teenage angsty about his parents working all the time. i think he’d understand and respect it, as well as admire them both. however, i do think that there’s a tiny, almost silent, part of him that wishes he got to spend more time with them. after all, that’s what children need. he’s kinda the type of character who would help someone else before ever helping his self and he’s shy and clumsy with affection so i think it would be hard for him to communicate it as we’ve seen before lmao. and yes, we haven’t heard much from his parents but i do think they adored him bc,,, like,,, he’s artem??? also, if you found any grammatical errors no you did not ;v;
Summary: How the legend of the Bane began and your simple life.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/You
Word Count: 2,611
Rating: Fantasy!AU, Mentions of death, Illness, Language, Angst, Curses
Inspiration: The beauty and the beast, among other things.
Author’s Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for brainstorming this with me, hammering out the details! Tell me what you think!
Once upon a time, in an ancient land, there was a small village of three hundred dreary and poor inhabitants. In this small village of Mintwillow, there was a legend of dark and sinful proportions; the legend went like this.
Living in a neglected castle, a handful of leagues from the village, placed perilously on the edge of a cliff, with the roaring and roiling waves of an ocean below, crashing against the rock face and eroding it away, was who the village called, the Bane. He had been the fourth of five children, all brothers, who had all lived happily and harmoniously with their loving and pampering parents. The family was the most prosperous family within nearly sixty leagues of the village, which, at the time, was just as prosperous and bustling, riding the wave of their success.
But, then, disaster struck.
A horrible illness washed over the county, striking the inhabitants of Mintwillow the hardest. The Bane's family, despite their wealth and good standing, also became victims of the disease. Every last one of them became sick with it; bedridden and raving, bodies throbbing, as if all of their bones were shattering, and sweating so profusely from their fevers, that their mattresses were soaked through, and took turns in getting sick. Their servants, also sick themselves, did their best to care for their beloved masters, but it was all for not. First, the mistress of the castle died of the illness, followed by the youngest son and the third oldest. The father and oldest went two days later, but the second oldest and second youngest held out for a fortnight. On the night of the fourteenth day, even after a glitter of hope of becoming well again, the second oldest perished, leaving only the second youngest alive.
Who still fought for his life against the illness.
He had languished between getting better for a day or two, before becoming quite worse and being only moments, if not seconds, from death. But, finally, after nearly another fortnight, the second youngest son roused, his fever breaking and his life safe from the dark tentacles of death that had taken all of his family, all that mattered and he held so dearly to his heart.
It had taken time, and a good many lives, before the plague that washed over Mintwillow to pass away, leaving an ugly scar in the lives and minds of the inhabitants. While a mass grave had to be excavated for the townspeople, the bodies of the dead family were given single graves in their ancestral graveyard, just down the hill from the castle. It was the day of their funeral, even though they had already been in their graves for a month or more, that the second youngest son, now the heir and executor of the family empire, realized the amount of power he suddenly wielded; the mass fortunes of gold he had at his disposal, for every want, whim and fancy he could ever dream of, with no one to tell him no, or hold him in check with the spending.
That was when the Bane came to be.
He threw huge balls for the top families in the land, inviting the prettiest women his staff could find and lived in the county. He spent thousands of pounds on furnishings, decorations and things he had no need for; some he didn't even know how to work and use, but bought, simply because he could. But, within two years of his new found power, the money was starting to dwindle. He was spending more than the family business could support.
So, he taxed the small town of Mintwillow.
Raising the taxes on the goods he supplied them, supplies and goods they needed to live and support themselves, since the next option to do so, was over a hundred leagues away. He taxed them for everything he could, and even thought up new things he could tax them on, because he knew without him, they would all likely starve.
After awhile, spending mountains of gold, throwing lavish parties and having an endless line of women, didn't fill the hole that had been left at the loss of his parents and brothers. Nonetheless, he kept spending the gold and dancing at his parties and bedding every woman he could. It had become a habit now, instead of a pleasure. However, in the third year after the illness, and quite suddenly, he no longer threw lavish parties that lasted for days, he no longer spent vast amounts of gold or entertained a woman. Some in the village speculated that he had packed up and moved out of the county, having slighted some young lady's honor and ran before her father could force him into marrying her. Some said, someone he had overtaxed had become so enraged by it, they murdered him and his body was decaying somewhere in the castle.
But, the impossibly high taxes kept being enforced and collected.
What he had done, was reduced the staff to a single butler, closed up all of the rooms, but his own bedroom, a study and the kitchen; leaving the rest to grow thick layers of dust, cobwebs, moth holes and to fall into disrepair and neglect; leaving the ghosts of his former life to inhabit them.
Shutting the world away and darkening the once bright and full of life castle.
Why would he suddenly close out the world like that? The answer isn't as simple as one might think.
During one of the biggest balls he had ever thrown, the girls were flocking him, as usual, when an exceptionally gorgeous woman approached him, she was so radiant in her gown and her self assurance, that he couldn't help be attracted to her, drawn to her glow, like a moth to the naked flame of a candle. Pushing away all other women, he approached her, turning his handsome charm onto her. She was just as drawn to him as he was to her. They danced and floated around each other, none other existed to them, not the nearly two hundred guests or the jealous women; just him and her.
Before long, the pair were in the privacy of one of the castle's many rooms, sitting close together on a divan, smiling faces so near to each other, they shared the same breath. They shared jokes and quips, flirtations and jests. But, suddenly, her behavior changed and her bright eyes dimmed, like a dangerous storm cloud.
“You like all your fancy things, don't you?” She hissed at him. “Having every woman fling herself upon your feet, like a simpering puppy.”
He blinked at her, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. “What are you talking about?” He demanded, pulling away from her; shock and brewing rage in his blue eyes and handsome face.
“Taxing the lands and lives of all the poor souls in this land, while you sit fit and happy upon your mountains of gold and privilege.” Her own rage grew, out matching his own. “Yet, you are as miserable, if not more so, than they are. But, you still tax them, sucking them dry, until they are so far in debt to you, they fling themselves from the cliffs, to end their suffering.”
“Suffering you cause for nothing.”
“I won't be spoken to like this.” He said in a low growl, his upper lip twitching with a snarl. “Get out and never show your face here again! Or I'll show you what true misery is!” He raved, jumping to his feet and pointing a stiff finger to the door.
She stood with him, quite gracefully for a soul so consumed with rage and distaste. “No, you will know what misery really is!” She barked, before roughly kissing him, her long nails digging into the soft flesh of his neck, leaving thin trails of blood in their stead.
“That will be the last kindness you will have for some time.” She hissed, then swept out of the room.
The room was dark and stifling hot, you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your back, as you leaned over the mortar you were currently grinding up a combination of white willow bark, yarrow and marshmallow root in. Another painful sounding and wet cough filled the single room hut your patient lived in with her husband and six children, all under the age of nine. Getting the herbs fine enough, you turned to the roaring fireplace that dominated a large section of the north wall of the hut. You had told her husband not to put so many logs on the fire, she was already badly hydrated, and the overwhelming heat of the fire, combined with her high fever, were causing her to sweat profusely, making her even more dehydrated.
But, being a man and feeling he knew better than you, he kept feeding more and more logs into the licking flames.
You suppressed an eye roll as he tossed another sizable log into the fire, sending up a shower of sparks into the chimney flue. Using the skirt of your dress, you grabbed a hold of the handle to the roiling kettle and pulled it off the hook that held it over the flames. Taking it back to the makeshift kitchen table, you dumped the ground herbs into the battered and chipped teapot, then poured in the steaming hot water, leaving it to brew the herbal tea that would reduce her fever and help quiet down her cough.
“Have her drink the whole pot.” You told him, holding the teapot, and still using your dress as a barrier, while you gently swirl the liquid inside, the heat radiating through the porcelain felt pleasant. “Even if she doesn't want to. But, don't make her drink it too fast either. Maybe a cup every half hour.” You explained to him, setting it back down on its stone coaster.
“If she gets any worse, come and get me.” You added, gathering your little bag full of herbs and other odds and ends you used as a healer for Mintwillow.
“Thank you.” The husband said gruffly, standing stiffly by his wife's side.
“Of course.” You nodded to him, then gave the youngest child, only fourteen months old, and sitting on the hearth rug, gumming on a biscuit, a smile; recalling you helping birth the babe into the world, before going out into the cold and salty air.
It was so much nicer out there, the winds pushing in pungent ocean air, salty and fresh, with a tang of fish and kelp. It was cool and refreshing, an excellent cure all to the stuffy and hot atmosphere of the hut you just left. You were nearly home, when a familiar silhouette appeared in the early evening mist, bringing a happy smile to your face.
“Hello, papa.” You greeted him as he fully appeared.
“Hello, child.” He smiled back at you, his tired and wrinkled face brightening at the sight of you. “How is she?” He asked, eyes flickering to the hut several yards behind you.
“She should be just fine.” You assured him, confidently. “Just a strong cold. Nothing I can't fight.” You chuckled, but you could see the undeniable fear and anxiety in his deep set brown eyes.
Your father, honestly, loathed that you were a healer, but he honored your choice, like he had always done your entire life. If you set your mind to something and he knew you couldn't be swayed on the subject, he would respectfully disagree, but would support you, through and through. You were his daughter, his first born, his only born, and he would move heaven and earth for your happiness. But, his fear and anxiety over your chosen profession came with good merit and reason. Nearly five years before, a great illness had swept over the village, taking so many lives. But, there was one person there, doing her utmost best to try, and at least, slow its progression.
Your mother.
She had been Mintwillow's healer longer than you had been born, before she and your father had even married. Nothing would stop her from healing her fellow villagers, not even that horrid plague. She had worked tirelessly to try and stop it, though, more often than not, she would lose to it. Your mother didn't let that stop her though, she kept trying and trying, mixing every type of herb she had and could get her hands on, looking for a cure. Your father would have to bodily drag her away from her herbalist table, just so she would take a moment to eat or drink something, to sleep, even if it was just for a moment's nap.
Then, she was right back at it.
In the end though, four dozen Mintwillow villagers died, your dearest mother, being one of them. She had caught it, after being in contact with so many of the infected, and died almost a week later; leaving only you and your father. You had gotten the illness, there was barely a single handful of people who didn't get it, but had survived, with very little after effects. Your father on the other hand, had survived, only to be severely affected by it, he couldn't work the endless hours he once had as the village's blacksmith, finding wielding the heavy tools of his craft almost too much to manage for more than an hour or two.
Which affected the household income, making so many things you both needed scarce, like food and clothing. So, taking what you had learned from your mother, you stepped into her shoes as the village healer, hoping that the occasional gold piece would help ease the burden on your father. It still wasn't enough though, and that became abundantly clear, when stiff and high taxes were pressed on the village and its workers, your father being one of them, needing the supplies for his blacksmithing, causing him to be heavily in debt.
Of all the bones in your body, there was only one of them that was mean, and it loathed the life crippling taxes that squeezed and bled every person in the village, man, woman, child and even infants. You glanced across the foggy village, to the shadowy smudge, almost hidden by the charcoal clouds, that were like puffs of wool, against stark purple sky; the castle. You hated that filthy structure that loomed over the village, like an awful eye, bringing nothing be hardship and doom. You hated the creature that lived inside of it, reaping all the benefit of your father's hard-work, while you both struggled to put half a loaf of bread on the table for one of the two meals you could afford a day; if you were lucky.
Shaking the malice away from your thoughts, you followed your father back to your home. It was a little more than the rest of the homes in Mintwillow, it was a story and a half, the kitchen and living area was all one room, there was a water closet and a back room, that was your father's room. The half story was a loft, that was your own room. You loved your room, going up the half spiral staircase to it, it was closed off, so you had the utmost level of privacy. Half of your room, hanging above a writing desk, was an array of herbs that you used for your healing.
The one thing about your room that you had a qualm with, was the single peaked window; it pointed towards the bleak structure on the stormy cliffs, forever in your sight, whenever you look out your window. You wished it would just fall off the cliff it was butted up against; the gloomy and cursed castle of the Bane.
Barson, inc. adult Noah and some OCs. Established relationship, future timeline.
Warnings: Some fluff, MAJOR angst. This is beautiful, but bittersweet. And it's sad, like I cried writing it, sad. Major character deaths ahead. You have been warned.
"The is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved."
WC: 1698
***
“Tell us again, Abuelito, por favour.” both little voices cried from where they were sat playing on the floor.
“Tell you what, honey?” asked Rafael mischievously as he reclined in the armchair reserved for him when he visited their home every weekend.
“The story of how you met Abuelita, and how you fell in love.” replied Ellie, giving him a look that it was obvious what they wanted to hear.
“Oh, that story.” chuckled Rafael.
“Come on then, climb up, pequeños.” he replied, patting his legs and Daniel and Ellie, both now six and getting slightly too big to be clambering onto his lap, did so at his request.
“Well, I was working in Brooklyn, and I moved to the office in Manhattan.” started their doting grandfather.
“And that’s where you met her.” interrupted Daniel.
“Be quiet, Daniel! Abuelito is telling the story.” replied Ellie sternly.
“Ellie, be nice to your brother otherwise I won’t tell it at all.” both children quiet and staring at him, he spoke again, “but yes, it’s how we met, I had just finished in court and the Captain in charge, introduced her and Aunty Manda to me.”
“Tell us! Tell us what you said!” exclaimed Ellie, tugging her grandfather’s sweater in her enthusiasm.
Rafael threw Noah a smile over the children’s heads. He had heard this story a hundred times, and truthfully, he would happily hear it a hundred times more to hear about his mother and father and their twisting tale to their happy ever after.
“I said, ‘Captain, bring your daughters to work day?’”
Both children burst out laughing, and so did Noah, rubbing a hand over his stubble and then his mouth, trying to hide his amusement at his father’s youthful swagger and his children’s reaction to their silly grandfather.
“That’s so silly, Abuelito, why did you say that?” asked Ellie, her bright blue eyes, the image of her father’s staring up at him.
“I was trying to be charming, you cheeky monkey.” replied Rafael, squeezing her waist as she giggled.
“Did you love her as soon as you saw her?” asked Daniel quietly, he had a quiet observant nature that Rafael loved, watching his mind work things over was magical.
“I think I probably did.” sighed Rafael.
“What was she like?” he asked, in the same quiet tone.
“Oh, she was beautiful. She had the most gorgeous smile, and her eyes, her eyes were always my favourite thing about her.” smiled Rafael, closing his eyes, and squeezing them tight.
“How did you make her fall in love with you?” asked Ellie curiously.
“I don’t really know, it’s hard to explain.”
“Love isn’t hard, love is love.” spoke up Daniel.
“You’re quite right, Danny. But I still don’t know how it really happened. But I know I fell in love with your Abuelita because she was the best person I had ever known; she was my best friend. She was fearless, and had a heart of gold, and…and a beautiful soul.”
He paused and stared up at the ceiling, frowning and trying to figure out how on earth he could verbalise what it was he felt for Olivia.
“And I think she loved me because I believed in her. I would have followed her to the ends of the earth. And even on our worst days we would talk, and everything felt right. And when we got married, I told her how special she was, and I did everything I could to show her how much I loved her. And obviously, I am very charming.” winked their grandfather.
“Tell us how you told her you loved her.” chimed in Ellie.
“Well, we were friends for years and I left my work for a while. I did something that upset a lot of people, including your Abuelita. So, I said goodbye and we were both very sad, but we kept in touch because we were still best friends. I would send postcards and skype her and your dad. Then when I came back to New York I told her how I wish things had been different, and I said sorry, lots and lots of times. I told her how much I loved her, and I told her that I would never love anyone the way I did her. And she told me I was stupid,” he and Noah both laughed at that, “and that she had loved me for a long time, and she was just happy I had finally come home.”
“Wow.” whispered Ellie, “it’s like a fairy tale.”
“Tell them what else she did, Dad.” laughed Noah from the couch and Rafael frowned and sighed heavily, before grinning as he spoke.
“She told me if I ever ran away from New York again she would kick my ass, then she smacked me across the head and kissed me.”
Everyone burst out laughing and Rafael cuddled the children close, breathing them in and savouring them being small enough to hold like this.
“I wish she was here.” whispered Ellie.
“Oh, honey, me too. But you know she’s always watching over us. You know she loved you both so much, just like I do. And you know what, I did lots of things in my life I was proud of. But the thing I am most proud of was her and loving her as much as I could till the day she left us.” murmured Rafael, resting his cheek on her hair and looking over at Noah who held his hand up and pressed his palm to his heart.
Rafael nodded and smiled.
“We love you too, Abuelito.” whispered Daniel, kissing his grandfather’s cheek before rubbing his nose where the older man’s beard had tickled.
“Now, pyjamas, teeth, go on.” said Rafael, tapping them both on the back and sending them off to their rooms.
***
“Papi, are you alright?” asked Noah quietly.
“Mm-hmm.” nodded Rafael, his gaze straight ahead.
“I’ll ask them not to ask for that story again.” muttered Noah quietly as he came to stand next to his father, looking out of the kitchen window and onto the yard.
“No, no. Please don’t do that, Noah. It’s alright.” he replied, shaking his head.
“I miss her.” murmured Noah.
“God, me too, mijo, every day. I would give anything to see her face just one more time. I can’t believe she’s…missing all of this.” sighed Rafael, his voice cracking as he wiped a tear from his cheek.
“At least she met them before, you know…she always said that was tied in a top three best moments of her life.”
“What were the other two?” his father asked curiously.
“Adopting me, and,” he took a deep breath and gave his father a small smile, “and meeting you.”
“She would be so proud of you, Noah, she was so proud of you. Just like I am. I know biologically…”
“It doesn’t matter.” said Noah firmly, “remember what Mom always said? Family is what you make it. And you are my father as much as I am your son, blood or not.”
“God, you remind me so much of her.” chuckled Rafael through his tears.
“She always said I reminded her of you.” laughed Noah.
Rafael turned to Noah and clasped his shoulders tightly, looking him dead in the eye. “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Dad.” replied Noah, pulling his father into a hug, and closing his eyes, breathing him in.
He still smelled the same all those years later, his cologne was the same, and if he tried hard enough, he was a kid again, and his mother was there too, her eyes and her smile.
“Let me get the kids to bed and how about we have a glass of scotch, and you can stay here tonight? Your room is made up anyway.” said Noah, pulling back and patting his dad on the shoulder.
“That sounds like just what I need, thank you, mijo.”
***
The picture of Olivia was still on the nightstand, taken on their first wedding anniversary. She had been stood on a balcony at sunset and had looked back at the camera as Rafael had called her name and she had given him that gorgeous smile that was reserved just for him, her eyes sparkling in the glow of the dusk light.
This room had always been their room when they stayed with Noah and the children on weekends, or occasionally babysat so Noah to take his lovely wife, Charlotte, out for the evening. Or nights like this, when Charlotte was working double shifts and Noah was alone with the kids all weekend.
“I miss you, cariño. If you could see Noah, Lottie and the kids now.” he sighed, “I would never have known the joy of any of that without you, mi amor, to have a family. I love you, always.” he sighed as he closed his eyes.
***
“Dad? Dad, are you awake?” called Noah as he knocked on the door lightly, “I brought you coffee, Cuban blend of course.”
But Noah knew as soon as he walked into the room, that something was wrong. He watched his father for a second, he looked asleep, but Noah knew he wasn’t. He was curled up on his side, one hand resting on the pillow next to him, his beloved wife’s necklace with the word ‘fearless’ still clasped in his hand, and the tiniest smile still on his face.
“Be at peace, Dad.” whispered Noah, the tears stinging his eyes as he kissed his father’s head for one last time and took a deep breath. He pulled the chair by the bed closer, and reached into his pocket for his phone, dialling the first number on the list.
“Uncle Fin?”
“Hey, kid, everything alright?” came the familiar deep tone of his mother’s oldest friend through the phone.
“I-I have some bad news, he, uh, he’s...” stuttered Noah as he rested his head on the bed and sobbed into the bedspread, the phone abandoned next to him. His hands clutched his fathers for one last time, and he could only hope that at least now his parents could be together again.
storyline: tony has been cheating on pepper with peter. peter is helplessly in love with tony and he’ll take whatever he can get out of tony.after letting tony use him for months, no matter what emotional distress it has caused him, he learns tony has made her his fiancée.
It feels heavy in his hand.
Peter has measured the density of countless things, including paper, and it was never this strenuous of a task to hold a simple card.
But it felt as if his hand was being weighed down by a slab of concrete, grounding him to the exact second he looked at the wedding invitation.
He should’ve been ready for this. He knew it was coming, and he certainly knew Pepper wouldn’t hesitate to invite Tony’s favorite protege to their wedding.
He knew that his presence wouldn’t have been desired if Tony Stark had decided on the guest list. Especially since he saw the same wine-colored invitation face down on the coffee table.
Tony would never have invited Bucky. They were on decent terms at most, and he remembered how Tony’s therapist had been encouraging him in the direction of forgiveness for Bucky’s crimes against his parents.
It was one of the few things Tony and Peter had actually fought about.
Tony had wanted to move Peter into the tower, or even a nice brownstone in the village that he owned.
Peter firmly declined, because how was he going to make it in life, if he was constantly depending on Tony? And besides, Bucky was a great roommate, and they split the rent, so it wasn’t like he was shelling out his life savings on some shoebox.
Maybe things would have been different.
Peter feels the warm glare of the sun pour through the windows as it begins to drop behind the skyline. He tries to level himself within his own reality, ground himself on to the warped hardwood flooring of his apartment.
His sensitive hearing picks up on the squeaking of knobs bringing a halt to the shower in the bathroom. The rustling of the shower curtain, and then a towel being pulled from the rack. His trained ear follows the sounds that signals Bucky is done, it means Bucky will be here, and save him from the rabbit hole that is thinking about Tony Stark.
Bucky always saves him.
Bucky is always there for him in the ways Tony never was.
It’s almost like a sixth sense for Bucky, just knowing when Peter begins to shake, the thread of the seams holding him together beginning to pool at his ankles.
He feels familiar arms wind around his middle, the whirring vibranium limb brings him a comfort he had never quite known. Something that won’t remind him of Tony. The one flesh and blood, and other a marveling prosthetic.
His pieces return to their rightful place, as trembling hands clutch against the older man’s.
A delicate kiss is placed against his shoulder, where Bucky’s flannel doesn’t cover. Peter nearly purrs, but he can’t help it. Bucky’s arms are the safest place he’s ever known.
“You got one.” Bucky drawled, his voice low and husky from the nap he woke up from.
It’s not a question, and from the angle, Bucky can probably see the crumpling paper wedged in his hand.
“I’m going.” Peter sighed, the tone in his voice signaling this wasn’t up for debate.
“I wasn’t going to stop you.” The other almost huffed, but Peter knew it was just fond exasperation.
That was a surprise. He’s seen the anger and frustration in Bucky’s eyes, when he watches Peter break time and time again. He had assumed he would forbid him from attending, for the sake of Peter’s own wellbeing.
Peter froze in his ministrations of gripping onto his hands as if his physical contact with Bucky was his lifeline.
“May I go with you?”
This was James Barnes speaking. Low and soft in his ear, ever the gentleman ‘I’ll have her home by ten sir’. Peter never minded hearing or feeling James Barnes, Brooklyn’s Sweetheart.
But this was also Bucky, watching Peter heal and grow, and wanting to be there with him, when he does.
