I'm a hopelessly romantic old soul disguised as a loner for this modern age love.
â Ruth Winters / Modern Age Love
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I'm a hopelessly romantic old soul disguised as a loner for this modern age love.
â Ruth Winters / Modern Age Love

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I've never thought I'd enjoy coloring a heart
Bendystraw angst vid
â ïžTw: blood and slight goreâ ïž
johnny fic with a reader who has philophobia (fear of falling in love) ??
Fear of Falling
Johnny Storm x fem!reader
Wordcount: 2k Masterlist
You walk into the communications suite at the Baxter Building, clutching your tablet, feeling the usual professional calm. Youâre the new PR manager for the team, and youâve got your eyes on every detail, press releases, media angles, public image. Three out of four of the team members made your job very easy. Johnny Storm on the other hand, couldnât help himself but grasp for attention.
Just when you sat down at your desk to start your work for the day, he arrived. Bursting in, flames dimming to not to ignite the room, but you see the spark in his eyes, fast, confident, a bit wild, heâs definitely scheming. You hand him the draft of the mission statement for his interview before he can even open his mouth to ask.
âHow about we try something new today, Johnny?â You ask.
âWhat did you have in mind, sweetheart?â He smiles and leans forward on your desk. You sense something in his glance, a friendly warmth, but also⊠something else. You look away. Keeping it professional.
âSticking to the script, human torch.â you said while looking down at your tablet trying to make it seem casual that he was so close to you.
âAlright well letâs make it worth my wild. If I stick to the script⊠you have to go on a coffee date with me during your lunch break,â he said confidently.
You looked up then, studying him for any sort of malintent. He was smirking, still leaning on your desk. You sighed, âif you stick to script, and I mean word for word, I will go on a coffee date with you.â
He jumped up from your desk, âSee you at 12:30,â he winked and left for his interview.
You rolled your eyes as he sauntered through the door. The only thing that settled your nerves was knowing that in the last three months he has done dozens of interviews, and he has never once stuck to the script you provided him.
So, when you flipped on the news an hour later, you watched him closely.
Your jaw went slack as you watched, âholy shit,â you whispered to yourself. He went word for word with what you had written for him. When the interview ended your phone pinged, that place around the corner, donât be late(:. Now you had a date with Johnny Storm.
You knew exactly which cafe he was referring to, it was the place you went to every morning on your way to the office for a latte. When you walked in, he was already there, and your latte was waiting for you across from him. You slid into your seat sheepishly and you noticed he seemed a little nervous.
You swore your throat felt tight, like it was closing, you hadnât been on a date in years because you truly feared making connections on this level, but you were a woman of your word, and he stuck to the script.
Your nerves subsided as conversation began to flow easily. You talk: your favorite cafĂ©s, your hobbies, his quick story about tinkering with cars, and then about flying. Finally you share something yourself: you say you used to dance. Ballet. It ended with an injury. His face softens. Youâve let him in. Not fully, but a crack.
When he walks you back to the office you feel light, lighter than youâve felt in a while.
âIt was nice to talk to you in a setting other than your desk or at a studio while you prep me for an interview,â he says quietly.
You nod, âyeah, Johnny Iâm not going to lie you surprised me.â
He raises his brow, âwhat do you mean?â
âWell, you really do make my jobâŠ. harder. I thought that's just how you were,â you say honestly, hoping to not offend him.
He chuckles, âmaybe I just like your attention.â
You turn your gaze to him as you reach the building, âwell, maybe we can do this again, so you can stop begging for my attention at work.â
He laughed again, âyeah, I would like that.â
You smile and walk back to your desk. When you sat down you realized you havenât stopped smiling.
Over the next few weeks, you catch him in the hall with coffee for you, or a pastry he knows you like. On the third date he leaned in to kiss you, and you felt electricity course through you as he did, but when he pulled away, the fear began to eat at you. He compliments your crisis-handling and you start to feel noticed. The entire relationship you were building felt like a constant internal battle, wanting to let him in but the fear and anxiety gnawing at you.
One night you get take-out and meet him in the lab while he finishes up his tinkering for the day. As the night carries on and the bottle of wine you shared is drained, you tell him about your childhood, how youâve always been the fixer. A child of divorce, playing peacemaker between your parents at a young age, and always shielding your younger siblings from the reality of it. You see him listen â really listen. Then you say something you didnât expect: âIâm afraid of letting people in.â His reply: âI get it. Itâs scary. But you donât have to hide anything from me.â
You glance at him and your breath catches, you feel the heat crawling up your neck when you process how honest and open you just were with the blonde man in front of you. That night you stay late in the lab wing together, sorting through visuals for an upcoming release. He jokes, you laugh. You stretch to pick up the holo-projector and your hand brushes his, you pull back quickly. When he leans in to kiss you, and you let him.
On Saturday morning it was absolutely pouring in Manhattan. You stood in the lobby of the Baxter Building lobby shaking off the rain from your rain coat. You had arranged for Johnny to go to the children's hospital and have a meet and greet with the children. You were surprised when he asked you to join, you were surprised but happy to tag along.
From a PR perspective Johnny was doing amazing, and you couldnât help but feel proud of him as he made each little kidâs day.
On the drive back you sit quietly. The stereo is off. The rain drums the windows. He pulls in front of a small Italian spot for lunch, tucked away and quiet, away from paparazzi. The rain continued to patter on the windows as you both slid into a booth next to the window.
âThanks for tagging along today,â he said sincerely as the waiter poured you both water.
Johnny ordered two glasses of wine which you were grateful for, considering your anxiety around him still hasnât subsided.
âI was happy to come today, you did an amazing job,â you said as you sipped the heavy pour the waiter set down.
âYou know,â he started, âI didnât invite you for work reasons, I really like having you around.â
You looked at him, eyes wide at the confession.
âI like you a lot,â he said quietly.
âI like you too Johnny,â you admit, âmore than I have allowed myself to like anyone in a long time,â you confessed.
Johnny brought you home after lunch and the rain continued to fall as you unlocked the door to your walkup building downtown.
You fell asleep easily that night, feeling content, maybe it was the wine, or maybe life was just going well. But then the next morning you wake up and your walls collapse. This matters. You care. Youâre letting someone in. And you hate that youâre letting it happen. You completely panic, avoiding Johnnyâs calls and texts all day. You wallow in your apartment for the entirety of your Sunday.
When the next day rolls around, youâre forced to go to work. You skip lunch. Hide behind tasks. You ignore his texts again. You feel trapped in your fear: what if it hurts? What if you lose control?
Eventually youâre in the communications suite, glasses fogged with tears, leaning heavily against the window. He finds you. Quiet. He sits beside you. âHey, did I do something?â Then he sees you, notices the tears and he softens, he doesnât ask for an explanation. âHey, hey, Iâm here, itâs okay.â
You break. Soft sobs. âIâm terrified,â you whisper. âTerrified of losing control. Of letting someone in and them leaving. Of caring so much it hurts.â You clutch his shirt. He wraps an arm around you. His voice: steady and warm. âItâs okay. Iâm not going anywhere. I donât need you to be perfect, I want you to be you. And Iâll wait, as long as you need. We can take everything slow.â You let yourself lean into him. Your walls crack further. âI just need to know Iâm safe.â You say. He holds you. âYouâre safe. With me.â You sit like that, no heroics, no public-image polish. Just you letting yourself fall into him.
In the days that follow, your fear doesnât vanish, but it controls you less. He continues to show up for you, coffee on your desk, a note: thinking of you, bringing you lunch, he brings flowers to your apartment on the weekends, and texts you actually respond to.
One evening you invite him to dinner. You set up a small picnic with his favorite take out on a blanket atop the roof of the Baxter Building. The city flickered and hummed beneath you, creating the perfect landscape.
âI wanted to thank you for being so patient with me,â you said softly as you both ate.
âYou donât have to thank me,â his eyes were warm and soft towards you.
You smile, âI have always had this dreadful feeling when it comes to.. Falling in love,â you pause, he doesnât flinch at the word like you expected him to, âyouâre the first person I have ever been able to talk to about it, the first person who has made me feel like Iâm stronger than it.â
He placed his food down and grabbed your hand in support.
âIâve kept people at armâs length⊠but you⊠you make me want to reach in.â You were internally cringing at your honesty, but it needed to be said, you were stronger than the pit in your stomach.
âIâm glad I can be that person for you,â he squeezed your hand, âand Iâm falling in love with you too,â he said softly.
You smiled and released his hand, picking up the takeout container and looking at it to hide your blush. He mirrored you and continued eating. You both sat there under the stars, smiling like idiots.
You no longer pull back when he reaches for your hand. You donât skip lunch when his text pings. You laugh at his jokes. You tease his catch-phrase. You accept the support and care he has to offer instead of recoiling. He listens and shows you that love doesnât have to be something youâre scared of.
And he learned that your trust must be earned, and he pushed for that daily. Youâre building something you didnât expect: something strong enough for âhero workâ and gentle enough for the quiet moments. One evening you lean into him on the rooftop edge. The city hums below. You whisper: âThank you for staying.â He smiles, warm and soft. âGod I love you.â You smile, and say it back.
Taglist: @agentorange9595
đ«đ«
Philophobia (Part 10)
Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Platonic!Reader
Chapter Summary: You try to find information on Rhodey and call the biggest asshole for help, Karli and Zemo are a pain in the ass, all of you get a special visit from the Dora Milaje, John Walker is annoying and you hate him, Joaquin is a sweetie pie who loves you so much, you end up hurting our bird boy unwillingly.
Warnings: Cursing, Angst, FLUFF so much fluff, Tension (no smut), Revisiting Past, Mentions of Depression and Phobias, Isolation, Loneliness, Talks of a Funeral, Guns/Bullets, Injuries, Concussion, Bruises, Jealous!Joaquin, Sam and Bucky are worried dads, Joaquin loves Reader so much, Joaquin is whipped, A Special Cameo, Nicknames, This is a long one. thatâs all I think!
AN: nothing really, except this one is really cute hehe
âStark, Iâm in the middle of-â
âWhereâs Rhodey? And donât say you donât know anything about that. We both know, that youâre the only person who has eyes everywhere.â
Fury sighed heavily on the phone.
The moment Pepper told you that Rhodey was missing, your mind went straight to Nick Fury, the only person in this country who had his eyes everywhere and in everyoneâs business. Especially when it came to people like Rhodey, who were government officials.
âFine. I do know. But I canât tell you anything right now.â
Your blood boiled, irritated with his constant state of unbothered attitude, âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
âIt means that I canât tell you anything right now. Itâs confidential. Youâre not new to this business, Stark.â
You closed your eyes in annoyance. It was never easy with this man.
âAlright, fine. But if I donât get my uncle back safely, Iâll give you something to worry about, Fury.â
âAre you threatening me?â, Fury let out a disbelieving chuckle.
âWhy? Are you scared?â, you challenged him back. He knew you could be as reckless as your dad if you wanted to be.
âRelax. Heâs alive, if that makes you feel any better. Just figuring out how to bring him back. And no, I canât elaborate on that right now. Youâll just have to wait.â
You clenched your jaw tightly, reluctantly agreeing to his terms.
âYeah, alright. Youâll keep me updated, though?â
A beat passed.
And he finally replied, âYes, Iâll try.â
You huffed through your nose and cut the call, pinching the bridge of your nose after. You wouldnât be getting any sleep for a while now.
Your phone buzzed with a notification again. Harley had texted you that the suit will be arriving to your doorstep in approximately 10 seconds.
As if on cue, your watch informed that the suit was here.
You made your way over to the main doors and there it was, the sleek red and gold of the armour glinting in the light, the blue arc reactor in the middle glowing brightly, like it was never broken down.
For a minute, it felt like your dad was inside the suit. The sight of him roaming around the living room in one of the suits was a common occurrence, and the times when he wore it to help Peter out, fighting against Thanos, or save Pepperâall of the moments flashing in front of your eyes like it was a short film.
Involuntarily, your eyes filled with tears, the fact that he would never step out of one of these suits, after doing something crazy and typically Tony Stark, made your chest ache with a pain so profound.
You didnât notice Joaquin coming up next to you in your trance. You didnât notice how he saw your body lock up and eyes turn glassy, the emotion and pain swimming in them sending a sharp pang of hurt through his own chest.
His eyebrows scrunched up and he slowly put a hand on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. Your teary eyes shifted to look at him, his worried face intently focused on you.
"Hey, you okay?", he asked lowly, the hand on your shoulder shifting to rest on your shoulder blades.
You swallowed against the lump in your throat before nodding, "Y-yeah. I'm good. Sorry-um. This is Mark 50, Mark 50, this is Joaquin", you sniffled and pointed at the suit, introducing it to Joaquin like it was a real person.
In a way it was, the suits and the robots were as much as a part of the Stark family as Rhodey or Happy. They were, truly, your siblings and you hated how right Sam was about that.
Joaquin noticed the shift in you and immediately switched his mood, "Damn. Lookin' good", he greeted the suit, a hand extended in front of it.
He wasn't expecting the suit to actually listen and shake his hand in return, a metal fist enclosed against Joaquin's human hand, the suit's helmet tilted to the side like it was nodding.
Joaquin looked at you with wide eyes, face lit up with excitement, "Whoa!"
That made you laugh quietly, heart fluttering in your chest by looking at the wide smile on Joaquin's face.
He was so cute.
"Yeah. Dad used to command it before, but Harley must've programed it to respond to any commands and rewired it's systems to be operated by FRIDAY", you looked at the suit with a fond smile, completely missing the sour look that passed across Joaquin's face.
"Let's go inside. And Joaquin, could you please pull up Sam and Bucky's location? Iâll just thank Harley for his help", you shifted away from the threshold, the suit and Joaquin following closely. Joaquin stared at your back like a lost puppy before reluctantly sitting down at the couch with his laptop propped up on the arm rest.
You rang Harley back, taking a seat next to Joaquin and watching his pretty hands type away on the keypad.
Pretty hands? where did that come from-
"Whatâs up, Buzz."
"Hi, Haz. Thank you for working on the suit in such less time", you begun sincerely.
Joaquin clenched his jaw. You noticed that and quirked an eyebrow before Harley broke your train of thought.
"You owe me a treat and a new headset", Harley replied casually, and you could hear loud cheers in the background.
"Wait a minute, headset? Didn't you get a new one last month? And where are you, boy?", you chided him.
"Uhh...I may have blasted mine accidentally while working on the suit? And I'm at a football game right now", you could just picture his stupid shrug right now.
Your eyes widened, "Harley did you destroy my lab?! I swear to god- and why are you skipping your classes-"
"Oh my gooood, your lab is fine! There might be a small hole in the wall but otherwise, it's all good! And you're welcome! Come back home and treat me to lunch and a new pair, mkay? I gotta focus on the game now, byeee!"
And he ended the call.
You stared at your phone with your mouth agape before bringing your watch up to your face, "FRIDAY, give me a status update of the lab?"
FRIDAY pulled up a small screen, a footage of your lab visible on it. The footage showed the exact moment Harley accidentally pushed the wrong button and activated the blasters, destroying his precious headset and a small chunk of your wall paneling, the gaping hole standing out against the white and gray interior.
You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned loudly, Joaquin, who was already looking at you, decides to finally speak up.
"Who is this guy?", he blurts out and immediately regrets it, his hand clenching into a fist.
You looked up and sighed, "Just a stray that my dad picked up long ago and now he's my problem."
Joaquin looked at you in confusion. You smiled fondly.
"He's like the twin I never had, you know? Dad met him in Tennessee in 2013, during the Mandarin attacks. Harley basically saved my dad from starvation and hypothermia, let him stay in their family garage for the night. He was a smart kid, helped dad fix his suit, uncover the Extremis program, and helped track down the Mandarin in Miami."
Joaquin's eyes were wide with wonder, "Whoa."
You chuckled, "I know right? He must've been barely 11 years old. Even supported my dad during his panic attacks and PTSD. Dad was so impressed with this little guy who was practically helping him save the country, that he became a surrogate father to him. Gave him a scholarship and, later, an internship, brought him home during Christmas the next year, and that's how we became friends. I was an only child, so he was the closest thing to a brother to me", you finished with a sweet smile.
Joaquin relaxed. Harley was like a brother to you, there was nothing to be jealous of. Now that that was out of the way, he was happy and impressed with Harley and his presence in your life. He had saved your fatherâs life at only 11 years old and had given you a feeling of siblinghood. He knew how special a bond with a sibling could be.
Joaquin felt like he could get along with him.
His curiosity got the best of him and he asked, âThatâsâŠreally cool. He seems like a nice guy. But, whyâd you call him Woody the other day?â
You let out a delightful laugh, one that made your eyes squint and crinkles appear next to them. One that made Joaquinâs heart race and cheeks red.
âWe were just two Disney obsessed kids, okay? Spent half of our time watching the animated movies. Toy Story and How To Train Your Dragon stuck out because, Woody and Buzz, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut, were way too similar to us. So those were our nicknames for each other. Never grew out of themâ, you finished with a nostalgic smile.
Joaquin ducked his head and smiled, happy that you had these sweet memories as a child.
âWhy did you abruptly leave when I was talking to him?â
Joaquin whipped his head up, âHuh?â, nervousness bleeding through his tone and you knew you had him there.
âWhy did you leave, Joaquin? You even tensed up when I was talking to him right nowâ, you tried again in a softer voice.
Joaquin scratched the back of his head sheepishly, eyes looking down at his laptop to avoid your observant gaze, âUh-IâŠI was-â
You pursed your lips to stop the smile from spreading, âJealous?â
And there was the word vomit that you were expecting, âNo! I wasnât jealous. I just- I didnât know- I didnât want to force you into anything with me, you know? So like, I thought, maybe you already had someone so- I didnât want toâAnd you looked so happyââ
You stopped him from spiralling any further and covered his mouth with your hand, shutting him up effectively. His brown eyes stared at your hand in surprise before looking at you, his soft lips brushed against your palm and you almost shivered.
âItâs okay.â
His eyes widened, head tilting to the side as if he was asking you to repeat it again.
âI mean, I donât mind that you were jealousâ, you repeated quietly, swallowing to get rid of your nerves. Itâs been a long time since you opened up to someone like that. You werenât sure how Joaquin would react to it, your heart was beating out of your chest, hands were shaking and turning cold at the same time.
Before your overthinking could get worse, Joaquin wrapped a hand around your wrist and slowly tugged it down, a thumb rubbing soothing circles against your heartbeat, sparkling eyes flickering all over your face.
âIs that so?â, he asked softly, a stray curl falling apart from his neatly gelled hair and resting on his forehead.
He was so handsome, it hurt.
You nodded shyly, face heating up with nervousness and excitement, both.
He slowly leaned in, a hand coming up to cradle your cheek when there was a beeping sound coming from his laptop, the two of you jumping apart at that.
You cleared your throat while he gently removed his hand from your face, leaving a cold feeling behind. You almost sulked at that when he swooped in to press a kiss to the swell of your cheek before turning back towards the screen.
You blushed hard and thanked whatever force that was out there, for making him turn around at that moment.
âShit. Walker and Hoskins have tracked Sam and Bucky downâ, Joaquin cursed.
You snapped out of your day dream and leaned closer to him to look at the screen.
âWhat? Howâs that possible?â, you murmured as you watched the two dots follow Sam and Bucky around.
âI got no clue. But this canât be good. I donât trust Walkerâ, he muttered, his voice scratchy.
âYeah, that makes the two of us. I knew this was gonna happen, which is why I called in the suitâ, you confessed and he looked at you in confusion, his warm breath hitting your face because of how close you were to each other.
âWhat? Why?â
âIâm going after them. Iâve got a bad feeling ever since they leftâ, you admitted and bit the inside of your cheek.
Joaquinâs face fell, â(Name), no. Youâre literally recovering from a rib injury that you got a few hours ago. Youâre supposed to be resting right nowâ, he chided you gently, face twisted in concern.
You stared at him for a moment before softening, hands framing his face carefully. Joaquin closed his in contentment.
âI have the suit for a reason, Quino. Itâs got the suture spray and FRIDAY will keep you updated with my vitals, in case something goes wrong. And Sam and Bucky will be there, too. Iâll be okay, I promiseâ, you cooed gently.
He opened his pretty eyes and stared at you in worry, a dent appearing in between his eyebrows because of how much he was stressing them.
âYouâll let me know if anything goes south?â
âI swear.â
âAnd you wonât do stupid shit?â
You gave him a guilty smile, âIâll tryâ, and pressed a thumb in between his brows, smoothing the dent away before squeezing his cheeks in between your palms. He grabbed your wrists in his hands.
âIâll give you access to FRIDAY. Sheâs directly connected to the suit so you can talk to me, and track me through her, okay?â
He nodded, his head moving up and down in your hands.
âAnything else?â, you prompted him to open his eyes.
He looked at you for a moment and said, âCan I kiss you?â
You blushed and whispered, âYes.â
He didnât have to be told twice. He put his hands on your cheeks and brought you closer to him, lips pressing to yours in a gentle embrace, thumbs smoothing the skin below your eyes.
The kiss wasnât desperate or needy, it was gentle and reassuring, as if he was trying to savour the way your soft lips felt against his but at the same time, needed comfort that youâd be okay.
He pulled away after a few moments, pressing one last kiss on the corner of your mouth.
âGo save our dadsâ, he murmured against your cheek and you burst out in giggles, nuzzling against his face in return.
-
You flew to the location where Sam and Bucky had gone for Mama Donyaâs funeral. After commanding FRIDAY to compress the suit, it took the shape of a red and gold bracelet with blue accents that went on your wrist alongside your watch and you walked the rest of the way, not wanting to draw too much attention.
The funeral was held in a closed off factory or a community center of some sort, the building filled with large machines and huge halls, scattered with food supplies and tables full of clothes, bags, pots and other essentials. It was clearly a camp for the refugees.
It was way too quiet when you got in, and Joaquin informed you about the heat signatures a few feet ahead. You slowly made your way over to the main hallâs entrance, the view blocked by 2 rusted machines that looked like unused boilers, and a blue suit came into viewâWalker.
Your expression soured as you approached him and noticed Zemo being handcuffed, Bucky standing guard in front of a door, meanwhile Walker and Lemar were pacing back and forth.
âWow, I wasnât told that there was gonna be a party hereâ, you quipped and the four of them whipped their heads up in your direction.
âWhatâKid, why are you here?â, Bucky asked in concern.
âGreat, we have another trigger-happy child to look afterâ, Walker sassed.
âThe call is coming from inside the houseâ, Walker glared at you and opened his mouth before you waved him off, âAnyways. Buck, whereâs Sam? You guys okay?â
You walked over to where Bucky was standing and leaned against the door.
âYeah. Heâs inside, trying to talk Karli down.â
You nodded in understanding, it was very much in character for Sam to do that, his natural instinct to care for people and the professional experience of being a counselor helping him out.
âAnd whyâs this clown here?â, you murmured and gestured towards Walker.
Bucky sighed, âHe thinks Sam is doing a mistake by talking to Karli. Says we should just arrest her or worse.â
You rolled your eyes in irritation before John started breathing heavily. Bucky exchanged a look with you.
âIs he high? What the hell is wrong with him?â, you asked Bucky, who chuckled.
âIgnore him. Why'd you join us? Youâre supposed to be resting. Did you sneak out? Did Torres not stop you?â, Bucky rapidly asked one question after the other, his eyebrows scrunched deeply.
You narrowed your eyes, âI donât need anybodyâs permission. And relax, old man, I told him to track me and gave him access to FRIDAY. And hereâ, you pulled back your dadâs leather jacketâs sleeve and showed him the bracelet, âI got the suit as a backup.â
Bucky looked down at your wrist in doubt, âHow?-â
âIâll tell you later-â
âUh-uh. No, no, no. This is a bad ideaâ, John spoke up and paced around in panic.
You quirked an eyebrow.
âIt hasnât been ten minutes, John. Just sit tightâ, Bucky drawled out in boredom.
âDonât do that. Donât patronize meâ, John gritted his teeth.
You stood up straight and looked him in the eye, noticing his restless body language, âDude, you need to calm down.â
âHe knows what heâs doingâ, Bucky referred to Sam.
John glared at the two of you, âIâm goinâ in. This is all really easy for you, isnât it? All that serum runninâ through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. And youâ, he looked at you with eyes, ânot everybody has the privilege of living in ignorance and having a back up ready. Do you really want his blood on your hands?â
You clenched your jaw, your eyes hardening in anger, âWatch it, Johnâ, a hand moving to your bracelet before Bucky stopped you. You stared at him in disbelief.
John smirked before pushing Bucky out of the way, Lemar choosing to stay behind for now.
You watched John leave and broke your hand away from Buckyâs grip.
âBucky, what the hell?â, you chided him, his jaw clenching tightly at that.
âI know. Just- be careful. Lay low, I'll go after him", Bucky instructed, you gave him a curt nod and ran in the opposite direction, Bucky taking off after Walker and Lemar following closely, ready to stop Bucky. Zemo was the only one left behind, and he took that opportunity to break free from his handcuffs and follow Walker and Karli himself.
-
You ducked behind the staircase, observing the scene closely before making any moves. You knew Sam would be upset to see you here, but you werenât going to sit back and watch them get ambushed by Walker or, god forbid, the Flagsmashers.
âThis is what that was?â, Karliâs upset voice rang out in the empty hall.
âNo, waitââ, Sam tried to placate her, his hands held out in a peaceful gesture.
âTricking me until help came?â
âWe had enough time to talkââ, Walker stopped Sam while Lemar tried to restrict Bucky. You clenched your hands in anger.
âNazi", Karli spit at Walker and pushed him against Sam, bringing him down with him and a few pots and pans scattering in the wake. Bucky pushed Lemar off of him and ran in the direction of Karli.
You pressed the small button on your bracelet and let the suit wrap around you, the blue screens coming to life inside the helmet, FRIDAY's voice alert and ready.
"FRIDAY, track down Karli."
"Ok, Boss."
And you blasted off, whizzing through the building. Her and Bucky jumped through the staircases, the serums running through their veins helping them run faster and scale heights. Bucky dropped down behind her, landing in a room that was filled with people drying their clothes around and meandering about, they looked at you in alarm and gasped when you swooped in behind Bucky in a blur of red and gold.
Bucky whipped his head behind as he ran, relaxing when he noticed it was just you and ran faster, matching Karli's pace with you close on his heels.
The doorway made way to a dark, brick walled space, surrounded by flights of stairs and metal railings, low light passing through the windows on the opposite wall.
Bucky ran up another series of stairs and you paused, looking around in confusion, "FRIDAY, where is she?"
"Second floor, in the boiler room. Last door at the end of the hallway."
And you took off, reaching the second floor and noticing a brown door at the end of the hallway. Flying close to the door, you turned the suit back into the bracelet by pushing on the reactor and straightened yourself before opening the door, which gave you a clear view of Karli from the railings around the platform.
Descending from the stairs, you tried to keep the noise to a minimum as you followed Karli closely, ducking behind storage shelves and large pipes.
She suddenly stopped, staring at something or someone across her, her breathing laboured. You furrowed your eyebrows.
And suddenly, a gunshot went off, a bullet ricocheting off a pipe, making a loud clang. Your eyes widened as you pressed the bracelet and let it cover your hand in a partial gauntlet, arm raised in defense as you slowly stood up and saw the perpetrator- it was Zemo.
"Fuck", you cursed under your breath. All of you had stupidly left Zemo behind.
"(Name), what are you doing?", Joaquin's urgent voice came in from your ear piece.
You closed your eyes in regret. Thankfully, you didn't give him access to video yet or else he would've not given up until you backed away.
"Joaquin-I'm okay. FRIDAY, shut off comms until further notice", you guiltily informed FRIDAY.
"Wait, no-don't do this, (Name)-", his voice called out before FRIDAY ended the connection. You would definitely regret this later but you needed to focus here, for now.
A series of gunshots went off, Zemo backing Karli into a corner while you covered yourself with a huge crate right behind Zemo, keeping your blaster trained at him.
Karli jumped over a table and used it as a cover, the contents on the table scattering on the floor and that's when you noticed.
The blue glass vials. The serums.
Zemo slowly made his way over to the table while keeping Karli on gun point. You raised up and followed him, wanting to keep him away from the vials and Karli. He fired another shot and almost missed Karli's hand, her quickly ducking behind the table and his eyes went towards the vials rolling around.
"Is this what I think it is?", he asked Karli.
"Zemo, don't!", you cried out and he whipped around, his gun still raised but lowering it when he saw you.
"Let me do this, (Name). This has nothing to do with you", he warned you lightly before turning back towards the vials. He crouched down before picking one up, Karli's distressed face popping out from behind the overturned table.
"No, no...", Karli whispered and Zemo shattered the vial in his hand, it breaking in tiny pieces, the blue liquid spilling on the stone ground, turning it damp.
"Zemo, stop it, I'm gonna blast you, I swear", you raised your arm, the gauntlet powering itself when a door opened and a man came out, Karli making her way up to escape. You forgot the serum then, knowing that they werenât as important as Karliâs coordination with Sam and to this mission.
"Karli, wait!", you ran towards the stairs, catching up with her when she suddenly turned around, pulling your arm close before pushing you harshly.
She ran away while you lost your balance, the heel of your foot slipping off the step. Your stomach coiled in itself, that feeling of free falling engulfing you.
A sound of metal hitting something echoed in the still room but you couldn't see it as you closed your eyes tightly, waiting for the ground to hit you for the second time since yesterday.
But it never came. Instead, rough gloves and the feel of kevlar on your cheeks greeted you, hands helping you get off the stairs before making you sit on the ground, releasing you immediately and the sound of footsteps walking away hit your ears.
You heart was pounding in your ears, the brief scare of falling had shaken you up, your eyes still shut tightly. Taking a deep breath in, you opened them to see that Zemo was unconscious in front of you, Walker stood next to a pile of water bottles with his head titled, looking at something in his hands.
Had he saved you from falling?
Just as you though that, the door above opened once again, Sam and Bucky walking through it while Lemar rushed in from the other entrance behind Zemo.
You were breathing loudly, eyes meeting Sam and Bucky's from across the room, nodding to let them know that you're okay.
"What did we miss?", Sam asked John in exasperation, Bucky scowling next to him and the four men exchanged a look with each other.
-
"You okay?", Bucky asked you as you walked next to him.
"Yeah, he-"
"What are you doing here? I told you to rest. The doctor told you to rest!", Sam chided you, a frown tugging his lips.
"I know, I'm sorry-"
"Oh, now you're sorry. What if you'd been injured, or worse? What was I supposed to tell Pepper or Rhodey?", Sam stressed. In his panic, he thankfully didn't notice the way you and Bucky froze at the mention of Rhodey.
"And how did you even get the suit?"
"Yeah actually, I have the same question", Bucky chimed in, staring you down with narrowed eyes.
You shrugged casually, "I have contacts", and gave them a smirk.
Sam shook his head in disbelief and Bucky huffed out a laugh. Zemo was stumbling behind the three of you, his right temple bruised and red.
"I didn't think I'd ever say this, but maybe I need to thank John for that", you quipped and the two men next to you chuckled in agreement.
"He also saved me from falling when Karli shoved me", you confessed and they look at you in confusion.
"Who? Walker?", Bucky asked in disbelief and you nodded.
"Well, colour me surprised. They do say, a broken clock is right twice in a day", Sam joked.
You shook your head and chuckled.
"You guys go ahead. I'll join you", Bucky informed you before walking back to the building. Assuming he was most likely going to ask around for information, Sam and you made your way back to Zemo's place with a wincing Zemo in tow.
-
As soon as you entered the living area, you were greeted with a sulking Joaquin, headphones over his head that made a dent in his otherwise fluffy curls, eyes intently focusing on the screen of his laptop, lips set in a frown and hands constantly fidgeting with the keyboard. His arms strained against the tight t shirt he was wearing and you felt your breath hitch at the sight.
There was also an ache in your chest. You hated that you had shut him out like that but you didnât do well with distractions. Not when you were trying so hard to prove yourself to Sam, that youâd be useful. But, those are just excuses, you suppose. He didnât deserve that in anyway.
Sam made his way over to him while Zemo went into the kitchen, likely preparing a cold compress for the bruising.
Patting his back, Sam brought Joaquinâs attention back to the present and he jumped lightly before removing the headphones, wide eyes looking up at Sam in alarm.
âOh-Hey. Youâre back? Where-â
He looked around Sam and spotted you, perfectly okay, wrapped in your fatherâs jacket, hands playing with the bracelet nervously.
Sam took notice of this frantic behaviour from Joaquin and turned to look at you, the nervousness radiating off your body and quirked an eyebrow.
âUhâŠyou good, man?â, he asked Joaquin while squeezing his shoulder, Joaquin reluctantly looking away from you to answer Sam.
âUm- yeah. Iâm good. How-how did it go?â
Sam sighed, âWell. Walkerâs dumbass ambushed us. Karli felt betrayed and she escaped. And Zemo broke the vials of the serum.â
Joaquin looked at Zemo, noticing the way he was swaying and stumbling over his feet and let out a low whistle, âDid he get his ass kicked?â
Sam snorted, âWalker threw the damn shield at his head. Knocked him out for sometime and bruised the right side of his face.â
Joaquin breathed out a laugh in response. Sam patted his back again and sat down on the chairs lining the kitchen island to work on his laptop, leaving you and Joaquin staring at each other longingly from across the room.
Zemo came over and laid down on the couch opposite to Joaquin, a towel over his eyes and a drink in his hand.
You averted your eyes away from Joaquin before joining Sam at the island, sitting down next to him and staring at the laptop idly, lost in your own thoughts. Sam was sending a text to Sharon, warning her about Walker and asking her to keep an eye on him.
âWere you ever offered it?â, Zemo asked Sam, who looked at you in confusion.
âWhat?â, he asked Zemo.
âThe serum.â
âNoâ, Sam replied and went back to his work.
âIf you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?â
You stopped fiddling with your bracelet and looked up in surprise, the loaded question from Zemo taking you off guard.
Sam turned around to look at Zemo and instantly replied, âNo.â
You slowly smiled with pride. Joaquin looked at Sam with stars in his eyes.
âNo hesitation. Thatâs impressive,â Zemo grunted and sat up, pulling away the towel from his eyes to look at Sam.
âSam, you canât hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, sheâs gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.â
You stiffened up, his words holding some truth yet his way of tackling the issue rubbed you the wrong way.
Sam grimaced, âIsnât that how gods talk? And if thatâs how you feel, what about Bucky? Blood isnât always the solution.â
Right after that the door opened, Bucky walking through it with irritation bleeding from his every step.
âSomethingâs not right about Walkerâ, he announced and walked around you and Sam, throwing his jacket into a chair and picking out a glass from the cabinet, pouring himself some whiskey.
âYou donât sayâ, Sam quipped.
âNo, I agree. He was being really fucking weird. Twitchy and always on the edgeâŠâ, you added, suspecting your worse fearâWalker took the serum.
âWell, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazyâ, Bucky added in self deprecation. You pursed your lips.
âCanât argue with thatâ, Sam joked and you noticed Joaquin stifle a laugh.
âShouldnât have given him the shieldâ, Bucky throws at Sam and you frown, a hand coming up to pinch your nose.
âNot this againâ, you groaned and Sam turned around to look at Bucky in disbelief.
âI didnât give it.â
âWell, Steve definitely didnât.â
You looked up in shock, âDude?!â
Why did have an attitude all of a sudden?
And as if the devil sensed the rising tension, the doors flung open, revealing the last person you wanted to see.
âAll right. Thatâs it. Letâs go. Iâm now ordering you to turn him overâ, Johnâs loud mouth announced himself as he strutted in, a stupid smug smile on his face, Lemar walking next to him.
You actually preferred Lemar over John. Atleast he didnât spew bullshit at random times.
Sam sighed in exhaustion and met John halfway.
âHey, slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing youâre runninâ in here is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. Heâs actually proven himself useful today. Weâll need all hands on deck for whateverâs cominâ nextâ, he said and pointed at Zemo who walked over to the kitchen.
Bucky leaned on the countertop meanwhile you felt a warm hand on your forearm, shifting your intense stare away from John to to look at Joaquin standing next to you, his jaw clenched.
âHow do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam? Huh?â
Sam stared at Walker and Walker let out a breathy laugh.
"Yeah. Should I put down the shield to make it fair?", John belittled Sam and you clenched your fists, eyes hardened in anger. Sam scoffed.
Just as John went to rest his shield by one of the pillars, a spear zipped past him, lodging firmly into the pillar right next to John's head.
All of you turned around in shock to see that a Dora Milaje warrior was standing in the corner of the room. You let out a laugh and Bucky shifted. Joaquin was too starstruck to even move, Sam looked at her in shock and fear.
Two more Doras entered from the main door, the clinking of their silver jewelry and armour rippling across the room in a pleasant way, their bodies held with grace and poise, the orange and patterned traditional armour fitting them royally, unimaginable power and stealth oozing off of their shining skin. Their sharp eyes pierced through Walker and Bucky sat up uncomfortably.
A Dora clinked her spear against the ground and looked at Bucky directly, saying something in Wakandan isiXhosa that was clearly not funny as Bucky ducked his head in shame. You exchanged a serious look with Joaquin, standing up in alarm.
"Release him to us, now", the warrior demanded, her voice serious and firm in warning.
Nobody spoke, except-
"Hi. John Walker, Captain America."
Except this dumb fucking man.
You rolled your eyes and shut them in embarrassment, Joaquin's mouth agape in disbelief. Sam laughed and looked at the three of you, his face lit up with shocked happiness, like he couldn't believe his was happening.
When the Dora didn't respond, John looked around the room and ran his stupid mouth again, "Well, let's uh- put down these pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?", he said in a fake happy voice.
"Oh my god", you whispered lowly.
"Hey, John, take it easy. You might wanna fight with Bucky before you wanna tangle with the Dora Milaje", Sam tried to warn Walker.
"They're gonna lay you down in 2 minutes max, manâ, Joaquin added. You scoffed in humour.
John looked at you two blankly before turning around and running his mouth again.
"The Dora Milaje don't have jurisdiction here-"
Your eyes were so wide you were sure they would burst, if that was possible. Joaquin let out a choked gasp next to you.
"The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction, wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be", the warrior conceded and stared down Walker with her sharp and vigilant eyes.
"I know that's fucking right", "Hell yeah", you and Joaquin muttered together.
Sam smiled and Bucky still looked constipated. You assumed it's because he was going to get his ass handed to him by the Doras as well.
Just when you thought that it was over, Walker did something even worse.
"Okay. Look, I think we got off the wrong foot", he replied smugly and tried to casually put his fucking hand on the warriors shoulder.
You and Joaquin grimaced and slapped your foreheads in unison.
"He's dead", you whispered in shock.
And he was, indeed, dead because the warrior pushed his hand off her shoulder with the spear and kicked him so hard in the stomach, that he hit the lodged spear harshly, and fell down, her partner pulling up her own spear in defense.
You gasped as John picked up his shield and the warrior spinned over him before stabbing his shield. The one who kicked John threw the third Dora her spear, who caught it mid air and attacked Lemar.
The three Doras kept hitting the two men with their spears, choking them and pinning them down, the grunts and groans and glasses shattering being the only sounds heard.
Sam backed up in shock, Bucky walked over to stand next to him smugly, his arms crossed around his chest.
Meanwhile you and Joaquin stared at the fight in wonder, awed at the fighting style of the Dora. They moved like it was a dance, not breaking any sweat or huffing and puffing, their movement precise and every attack purposeful.
Zemo sipped on his whiskey casually, like this wasn't any of his concern.
"We should do something", Sam mumbled to Bucky, who just pursed his lips and watched the scene unfold.
"Looking strong, John!", Bucky taunted as John got smacked by the spear once again and you let out a chuckle at that.
Bucky kept staring the fight smugly, his lips molded into a silly smile with his arms crossed.
Sam shook his head, "Bucky...", he called out in warning. Bucky looked at him before sighing, the warrior pinning down Walker and driving her spear straight into his face.
You let out a gasp, Joaquin holding you by the shoulders and then-
A vibranium arm shot out, stopping the spear before it hit John.
"Ayo-", Bucky twisted the spear away and Ayo, the warrior who kicked John, grunted, as she tried moving it out of Bucky's hand.
"Ayo, let's talk about this!", Bucky tried to reason but Ayo grunted once again, twisting the spear away, Bucky bringing up his flesh hand to stop her movements.
The other two Doras kicked Lemar and he dropped down in pain, one of them raising their spear before Sam rushed in to stop it, the warrior jamming in her spear's end into Sam's chest instead.
"Joaquin, we need to stop them-"
"No. Listen to me this once, please", Joaquin stopped you firmly, his hands pulling you back against him. You pouted.
The warriors kept attacking the four men, grunts and clangs echoing across the room and suddenly a spear shot out towards Walker's hands, passing through the straps and trapping the shield into the wooden table, Walker standing up with empty hands.
Ayo and Bucky's fight escalated and suddenly, she pressed a hand onto his left shoulder, where his metal arm met his flesh and-
The metal arm dropped down with a clink.
You gasped, Joaquin stared at the scene with fear and Bucky looked at Ayo with disbelief and slight betrayal, his eyes blown wide.
You walked over to Bucky, Joaquin making his way towards Sam.
You stood next to Bucky with a hand on his back, watching Ayo open the bathroom before announcing, "He is gone. Leave it."
The Dora handed the shield back to Sam and walked out just as gracefully as they had entered.
That's when you noticed that Zemo was missing. You frowned. How did you miss him slipping away?
"Did you know they could do that?", Sam asked as Joaquin helped him up, making his way towards you and Bucky.
Bucky furrowed his brows and you stared at him in worry, the vibranium arm's inner gears moving as Bucky prepared it to be fitted back into place. He inserted it into the purple grooves on the place where his armpit is supposed to be and the arm clicked, Bucky's clenched fingers making it whirr as he set it.
"No", he rasped out and moved his arm in a circle, making a clanking noise as it set.
You exchanged a worried look with Sam.
They walked over to the bathroom, leaving you behind with Joaquin. You clasped your hands in front you and Joaquin tucked his inside his pockets, both of you observing Sam and Bucky silently.
After a couple moments of awkward silence, Sam informs you that him and Bucky are going to look out for Zemo. You cursed inwardly as you realised youâll have to be alone with Joaquin for sometime now.
You just hoped he wasnât too mad about your little stunt.
-
You were scouring through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat when you heard footsteps behind you.
You turned around to look at Joaquin, who had left the bedroom a while after Sam and Bucky left.
In a way, you had decided to give him some space, the dent between his eyebrows kept growing the longer he was around you. You just couldnât gather the courage to speak up to him because what would you even say to the most patient and understanding person around you whom you just pushed away because you couldnât multi task?
He walked around you to get a glass of water, his body language casual and unbothered, avoiding eye contact with you throughout. You sneaked a look at him and chewed on your lower lip, deciding to simply ask him whatâs wrong.
âAre you upset with me?â, you mumbled loud enough for him to hear.
He paused drinking, hand hovered in the air. He gulped it down heavily after a moment, before putting the glass down. Your eyes lingered on his adamâs apple bobbing up and down.
âUh-no. What made you think that?â, he murmured and cleared his throat, arms crossing around his chest and making his muscles bulge and veins strain.
You narrowed your eyes at him, putting your hands on the hips.
âYouâre a horrible liar, did you know that?â
Joaquin winced and scrunched his nose. You sighed and leaned against the counter top, your arms holding your torso in comfort now.
âLookâŠIâm sorry, okay? I justâI get overwhelmed easily and I-I just wanted to prove to Sam and Bucky that I can be useful, that I want to help. I canât help itâ, you let out a breath.
âWhen you called, I couldnât comfort you and keep an eye on the mission at the same time. Itâs just how I am. Did this before when dad was around and heâd get upset at me every timeâ, you chuckled lowly, the memory of him scolding you for not updating him during a fight vivid. Joaquinâs lips twitched at that.
âEvery time someone close to me is in some kind of danger, itâs like I have this uncontrollable impulse to jump in to protect them. And I know, I said I wonât indulge in field work before joining you guys butâŠtheyâre family. I canât justâŠleave them out there to fend for themselves. Not when I can still helpâ, you confessed in a small voice, the vulnerability of your words weighing you down.
Joaquinâs eyes softened then, because he could perfectly understand how you feel. Everything he did, he did it to prove himself to the world, to his mom, grandma and his sister. and most importantly, to Sam. That weight crushed him almost everyday, but Samâs endless support and strength and the inherent trait to help the ones in need kept him going.
He supposed it was, in a way, worse for you because youâd lost your family members and you couldnât do anything to save them. That is a burden that he wished on no one. And how he wished, that someone as pure hearted and loving as you, would have never experienced this.
His heart did a little lurch after taking in your dejected and small form. He crowded your personal space, making you look up in surprise, your glossy eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed and a frown tugging your lips down.
Joaquin tilted his head like a puppy, his brown eyes looking at you with fondness and sympathy, âItâs okay, angel. I understand.â
Your mouth fell open. He forgave you? And called you angel?
âWhat?â, you blurted out like a loser.
Joaquin smiled gently, âItâs okay. I get what you mean. I understand you. You donât need to apologise to me. Not now, not ever, okay?â
Your bottom lip quivered and nose tickled, a telltale sign of crying. You quickly swallowed the tears and nodded, a hand coming up to brush against your nose.
Joaquin stared at you with thinly veiled love and affection in his eyes. He was so gone for you, it was a little scary.
So he did what he did best when words failed him.
He held out an arm to grab your hand and pulled you in gently, the other arm going around your waist to bring you to his firm chest. When you were close enough, he brought both of his arms up and hugged you, a hand splayed against your back and the other one holding you close by your shoulder.
You froze for a moment before burying your face into his chest, arms going around his waist and squeezing him tightly. You breathed in the comforting scent of fresh laundry and citrus, your favourite, and closed your eyes in relaxation, nuzzling against him like a cat asking for more pets, your forehead touching the warm skin by his collarbones.
Joaquin leaned his head against yours and let out a content sigh, a hand rubbing your back soothingly and you forgot all your problems for a moment.
Both of you were happily wrapped in your little bubble, unaware of the shit that was about to unfold around you.
Part 11
-
AN: AAAAHHH I love this chapter so much plsssss!! Please like and reblog and let me know your thoughts! đ
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Darksiders: Karn X Reader
Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Confessions, secret crushes, not-quite unrequited love, self-doubt, self-deprecation, g/t relationship, Karn has separation anxiety, Found family, Darksiders, Reader doesn't know why anyone would love her, the other makers are mentioned.
So, someone commissioned me, asking for a oneshot of Karn confessing his love for Y/n, but she finds the notion of being loved nigh impossible.
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More often than not, the rain that comes down on the Forge Lands is just as robust and tenacious as the makers who live there.
Ceaseless sheets of water - ice-cold and far larger than those that fall from Earthen clouds - cascade down upon the vale, churning up soil into patches of slippery mud and filling in the last lingering cracks of a valley thatâs been long-scorched by a pair of unrelenting summer suns.
According to Muria, this rain is long overdue.
Far in the distance, looming high over the rocky cliffs that hem the vale in their shadow, sits Stonefatherâs Peak, barely visible now through a silver haze cast by the tremendous deluge.
And above it all, above the deafening hiss of rainfall that strikes at the ground like gunfire, above the far-off growl of thunder rolling over Baneswood, another noise takes recognisable form, bright, cheery, and entirely inharmonious with the wild and gloomy landscape.
Laughter: both the musical rise and fall of a Humanâs, and the stentorian guffaws of a Maker.
The sound mingles intermittently with the splash of heavy footfalls that trundle clumsily up the valleyâs slope towards the mouth of Tri-Stoneâs main tunnel.
Thick, leather boots slip backwards with every step gained as the soles fail to find purchase in the mud, a hinderance that threatens to bring a breathless giant to his knees between noisy hoots of laughter.
âThat-!â Karn wheezes through immense lungs as he finally makes it to the tunnel, reaching out a hand to grasp at the slippery stone wall and haul himself underneath the overhang, â-Came outâa nowhere!â
As soon as he passes beneath the lip of jutting rock and into the tunnel proper, the rain stops hammering at the top of his hairless head, leaving the frigid water to dribble in rivulets down the back of his cowl instead where theyâre warmed by the younglingâs neck, then rise in gentle curls of steam.
Held securely against Karnâs heaving chest by a damp, gloved palm, you finally pop your head out from behind his thumb, hair plastered firmly to your scalp despite his valiant efforts to shelter you from the worst of the torrent.
At last, between your own bouts of laughter, you manage to keep enough air in to cough out a faltering reply, âYou must-! Have slipped over-! Like⊠seventeen times!â Your sentence is quick to fall away into another hitching breath when you recall â quite vividly â the colourful language that came spewing from Karnâs mouth as he scrambled to get out of the downpour, skidding on the slippery grass and landing on his rear enough times that his tunic is now thoroughly caked in mud, interspersed by the odd green stain.
It was a minor miracle he hadnât dropped you.
You may be drenched straight through to the bone, but at least your clothes are only flecked with a few spatterings of mud. Poor Karn looks like heâs been dunked up to his waist in a chocolate river.
Not that he minds in the slightest. To Hell with pride. If all it takes is a bit of clumsiness to put this amount of delight on your pretty face, Karn would gladly sacrifice every last ounce of dignity he has left, if only to keep you smiling.
Flopping against the leather-bound fingers at your back, you inhale a long, calming breath and grin widely up into the makerâs sopping-wet face. âI donât think Iâve ever seen you move that fast,â you tell him, mildly impressed.
âI was tryinâ to get you outtâa the storm!â he quips, grey eyes twinkling with mirth even as they none-too-subtly dart over you from head to toe, surveying the extent of the water-damage.
It was his own folly that he hadnât noticed the approaching tempest. After emerging from a lava-logged dungeon out near the Eastern edge of Baneswood â the same one heâd left deliberately unexplored so that you could delve into it together â heâd been too busy looking at you to see the roiling black clouds hanging ominously overhead.
His endeavours to keep you tucked under his chest and out of the rain when it had started coming down donât seem to have helped all that much. The hair on your head sticks flat to your skull, and even your clothes are soaked all the way through, plastered to your skin in wet, wrinkled clumps of fabric that squelch noisily every time you shift in his palm.
Yet every patch of skin that isnât covered seems to glimmer like diamonds in the soft, grey lightâŠ.
To a youngling drunk on the afterglow of adventure, unexpected laughter, and whoâs hopelessly besotted with his best and only real friend, youâve never looked more breathtaking than you do right now.
Utterly oblivious to the makerâs captivated stare, you splay a hand across your chest and shoot him a lazy flutter of your lashes, pretending to swoon. âMy hero.â
And Karn makes no attempt to disguise the swell of his chest at that.
âYou knowâŠâ Heaving a sigh, you slouch in the makerâs palm and drape an elbow over the back of his curled fingertips. â⊠I donât even care if Thane yells at us for sneaking out. That was the most fun Iâve had in ages!â
Truly, it was. It seems that every adventure you embark upon with Karn at your side is more exhilarating, far riskier, and twice as wild as the last. So much so that youâre half convinced the youngling is actively trying to outdo himself. But this latest venture, plundering the depths of a subterranean dungeon built by makers so ancient theyâd make Eideard look young, has got to be among your favourites, if not for the thrill of exploring a stronghold that hasnât been touched for millennia, then for the company alone.
Karn is the good sort. Funny, encouraging, and absurdly optimistic. You daresay that he was precisely what you needed after you lost Earth and found yourself tucked under the shadowy wing of the Horseman, Death.
Aware that youâre bulldozing straight into the realm of self-deprecation, youâre nonetheless still trying to figure out why the maker would want you as a friend. Why heâs remained adamant on calling you such even though several months have passed since that day you first met him outside the Cauldron. With Humanity restored and Earth no longer completely ruined, you presumed⊠that was it. Youâd made some phenomenal friends and went on some frankly terrifying adventures, and now things would go back to â well, not normal per se, but you didnât really expect to see him again, nor any of the others.
So, imagine your shock when Vulgrim of all demons, tracked you down on Earth with a message from the makers in Tri-Stone whoâd heard of your survival and were imploring you to come back and see them.
Surprised but delighted to visit the beings whoâd carved a niche out of their lives to fit you in it, youâd stepped away from the rebuilding efforts on Earth and made your way to their realm, promising the Horsemen that you wouldnât be away for too long.
Which brings you to what you always knew would be your least favourite part of this visitâŠ
Breathing out a wistful hum, you turn your face to the Vale and peer through the drizzle, roving your gaze up to the vague, yet familiar silhouette of the Tree of Life. Itâs infinite branches stretch proudly over the landscape, blotting out a vast swathe of Stonefatherâs peak in their vastness, an inescapable beacon that shows you home is always on the horizon.
âIâm glad we got to do one more adventureâŠâ you murmur softly, ââŠbefore I have to leave.â
And just like that, the warmth that had been nestling contentedly around Karnâs heart is doused by an ice-cold splash of reality.
Right⊠leaveâŠ
A pair of broad shoulders slump alongside the younglingâs spirits as he remembers that today is the day heâs been dreading for nearly a week.
As is often the folly of youth, he thought heâd have more timeâŠ
All of a sudden, the hand youâre sitting in begins to move upwards, and just as you peel your focus off the Tree and turn towards the maker, you promptly find yourself blinking right into two doleful, grey eyes, wide and imploring.
âDâyou really have to go?â he asks, looking for all the world like youâve just told him news far more devastating than your imminent departure.
Slightly taken aback, you blink up at him for a moment, studying the downturned tilt of his mouth and the pinch of wrinkles between his brows, like heâs reluctant to see you leave.
But then, perhaps heâs just being kind. Because to think otherwise might imply that youâre actually someone who people want to have around.
And you just canât bear to be wrong, can you?
âYou know Iâd like to stay,â you tell him honestly, âBut with rebuilding efforts underway, I canât really be off Earth for too long.â
A wild understatement. It took forever to get Death to let you out of his sight for more than a few days at a time, longer still to convince him to let you visit your friends in the Forge Lands. As the poor sucker who was âluckyâ enough to survive the Apocalypse, and the human who helped Death resurrect Humanity, your presence is frequently sought after to help smooth relations between the Horsemen and your fellow humans.
Karnâs expression somehow crumples even further, and pouting, he mutters, âWish I could go with youâŠâ
Gradually, your smile grows soft, exuding a particular kind of fondness that only he can provoke.
You know how much heâd love to see Earth for himself. And one day, hopefully someday soon, youâll get to be the one who shows him.
âWeâre working on it,â you console him instead, stroking your palm over the side of his thumb and thinking little of the way it twitches under your touch, âStrife and I are trying to raise the cap on inter-realm crossings, and thereâs already talk about letting makers be the first to come over in bulk. God knows we need you guys to help us rebuild, butâŠâ
But humans are suspicious, and with a plausible reason to be. Most are still frightened and wary of the beings that live beyond the Earthen realm, beings who are imminently stronger, older, and bigger than they are.
And they wonât soon forget that it was a Maker, after all, whoâd played a major role in the end of the world.
â⊠But, itâs not gonna happen overnight,â you finish at last.
At that, your colossal friend visibly wilts in front of your eyes, and even his arms start to sag, dipping you further from his face as he casts it sideways and peers glumly out at the rain.
In the ensuing silence, the hiss of tumbling water grows ever more prominent, from a âwhishâ to a roar, until you too find yourself following the makerâs gaze and twisting your head around to stare at the world beyond your little, dry refuge, wondering when the exhilaration was sucked out of the air and replaced with this cloying melancholy.
Surely the mention of your leaving wouldnât have dampened the mood so sourlyâŠ
Would it?
âWell,â you announce once the quiet has ventured into the realm of âuncomfortableâ and you begin fidgeting in the soft leather of the glove beneath your legs, âGuess Iâd better say my goodbyes to the others⊠wait for this rain to stop. And then Iâll be off.â
You risk a glance up at Karn, wincing at the sight of his ears drooping even further towards the ground.
The bob of his throat precedes a twitch in his jaw when he peels his lips apart and issues a sigh into the open air, the sound chased by a wispy, white cloud of his breath as it warms the world around it.
âI hope it never stopsâŠâ he murmurs.
Angling your head to one side, you grow still in his palm and ask, âWhat?â
All of a sudden, those once-soft eyes harden with resolve as Karn swings them back over to you and repeats himself, louder this time, âI said I hope it never stops. The rain. I hope it rains for a hundred years!â
Taken aback, you can do little else but offer an uncertain laugh that dies a quick death when his expression doesnât change, and you start to realise that he might not be joking.
âOhâŠkay?â you drawl out, flicking your eyes back and forth across his tightly-knit brow, âUm, why would you want that?â
Something akin to guilt â a quick, nervous stretch of his mouth â flashes across the younglingâs expression before it disappears just as abruptly. In its place, a rigidity stiffens his features, drawing his lips taut and carving an even deeper furrow between his brows. Then, finally, he works his jaw open and blurts, âSo thaâ youâd never have to leave.â
Once again, you canât think of a response fast enough to stave off the oppressive silence that wastes no time in reclaiming its lost space between you, at least until itâs broken by another stilted laugh.
âAlright, whatâs going on?â you try to ask lightly, only to fall so wide of the mark that you end up sounding apprehensive instead, âItâs not like you to be this gloomyâŠâ Then, deciding thatâs too serious, you make an attempt at levity. âYouâre starting to sound like Death.â
You expect the usual chuckle at the Horsemanâs expense.
What you get instead is the rattle of a metal pauldron as the maker raises his arm in a shrug and snatches his gaze away from you, glaring steadfastly at the wall over your head with his jaw jutted forwards.
âMaybe I just hate it when youâre not around,â he sniffs petulantly, âMaybe we all do.â
Wait⊠What?
For a decidedly awkward stretch of time, you find yourself at a loss for words, struck nearly dumb by the highly exaggerated notion heâs just proposed.
Youâre well-aware that Karn is often prone to hyperbolising his feats in battle and adventure, but this? To say that he and the others hate it when youâre not around?
Hateâs a strong word.
And thereâs a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that heâs just tossing any old excuse at the wall to see whatâll make you stick around a little bit longer.
But what you donât yet understand is why.
Being around friends is lovely, sure, but everyone wants their space eventually, even if that space stretches on from weeks to months to years without a phone-call or a text that says, âHey! Just checking in, you alive?â
⊠You know what itâs like. You know your company can start to grow stale after a while. Itâs why none of your old school friends reached out later in life. You were their friend on the playground and in the classroom, but never a good enough friend for them to recall after the exams were over and you all went your separate ways. A stand-in, you suppose. Liked, but only when you just so happen to be aroundâŠ
Perhaps, you try to reason, Karn just hasnât quite made it to that threshold yet. Which is surprising after the solid week heâs spent practically attached to your hip like the worldâs clingiest limpet, barely letting the other makers steal you away for more than an hour at a time.
So, maybe heâs not weary of your company yet, but thatâs no reason to embellish quite so glaringly.
âOkay,â you say at last with a flippant snort that all but broadcasts your dismissal of his claim, âNow youâre just exaggerating.â
Tusks crack audibly against his canines as the makerâs jaw snaps shut and the muscle jumps, clenching tighter than a vice. Nostrils flaring, he uses his shoulder to shove himself off the wall and draws you down so he can better loom over your head, squinting hard from underneath a heavily creased brow with a glare that would look more fitting on Thane than on the happy-go-lucky youngling.
Itâs a shift thatâs startling enough for a twinge of unease to roll across your guts.
âOh?â he blurts sharply, too sharply, in a voice that â again â doesnât seem to suit your jolly giant friend in the slightest, âWanna know exactly what weâre gonna do after youâre gone?â
You donât think youâve seen Karn this agitated since that corrupted custodian almost got the jump on you in the FoundryâŠ
Before you can utter a single word, one gargantuan hand pulls away from the other and curls abruptly around your waist, hoisting you out of its twinâs palm in favour of depositing you on the floor of the tunnel, though all with the same level of care that you might set down a porcelain vase. That, at least, reassures you, as does the fact that he takes a second to steady you on your feet before pulling away and standing to his full height once again.
Heâs released you, it seems, to free up his hands so that he can raise them and count off on each finger as he begins to elaborate, his voice echoing down the tunnel and bouncing off the damp, glistening walls.
âFirst,â he starts, sucking down a noisy breath and knocking off his forefinger, âValusâll be so busy sulkinâ, heâs gonna refuse to forge anythinâ fer at least a week. Alyaâs gonna be in such a foul mood, it wonât be worth talkinâ to âer. Muriaâs plantsâll wilt âcause sheâs so worried âbout what youâll be gettinâ up to on Earth, anâ Thaneâll be polishinâ that practice sword you use âcause he says it âneeds to be perfectâ for when you come back!â
Upon his final word, the youngling runs out of steam, blowing a long, hissing wheeze from his lungs like a great engine pulling into its last stop. Heâs breathing hard, harder than he ought to be, as if heâs been holding something heavy in his chest for a long time and itâs finally starting to work its way out.
He knows precisely how his people are going to react to your departure because it happened the first time you left them, whisked away by the Tree of Life to realms unknown. And then a second time, when you were reunited with the village after Death took a long fall over an even longer drop into the Well of Souls and you were brought to Tri-Stone by that short, feathery fellow with the mannerisms of a crow.
The makers, collectively contented to have you become a permanent feature in their lives, felt their world shift out from under their feet when the Horseman inexplicably returned to bring you home to Earth.
Karn remembers. Remembers the withdrawn disappointment that turned Alya quiet for a month, and the way her brother would make odd, keening noises behind that metal slab for a mask from time to time, resolutely ignoring all of the tools strewn about their shared forge.
He remembers how the entire village seemed to shrink in on itself, the very stone turning inwards as if to hide the grief on its face. Everything about Tri Stone felt so much smaller without you in it. The irony of which wasnât lost on him at the time.
Karn⊠had taken it hardest of all. He never got to tell you⊠Well, there were a lot of things he didnât get to tell you. Some of them he still has yet to confess. His own indecision had swiftly turned into regret after you went home, and he was stuck on this side of the Tree, a fresh hole in his heart where your presence used to be, bundled up like treasure behind his ribcage, a hole that was neatly filled in once more when you returned to him just a week ago.
Standing uncertainly on the ground near his boots, you, in the meantime, have shied away from the wake of his outburst, your mouth hanging open gormlessly and your heart thumping an erratic rhythm behind your eardrums.
Whatever remnants of a happier mood had followed you inside the tunnel have been completely washed away.
Thereâs a very odd phenomenon occurring in your brain; You can understand every word that Karn just said, while at the same time comprehending absolutely nothing of the meaning behind them. This is news to you. Why on Earth would they justâŠ?
âButâŠ.â Wetting your lips, you squint up at Karn and cant your head gently towards him, an inquiring gesture, seeking clarity, or at the very least a bit of elaboration. âWhy?â
You jump out of your skin when he throws his arms out wide and tosses his head back as a laugh bursts out of his mouth, entirely humourless and near-enough frantic, like he canât quite believe what heâs hearing. ââCause weâll MISS you!â
Which is⊠incomprehensible, frankly.
Why would the makers - a group of good-hearted, impressive, powerful, courageous, and downright extraordinary giants â miss you?
Youâre you.
Oh, youâre not the worst human alive, though certainly not the best by a long stretch. People donât miss you. It just wasnât the way of things on Earth, a fact youâve had years to come to terms with. Hell, you arenât even particularly bothered by it anymore, perfectly content in the knowledge that when you are âmissed,â itâs only because youâre needed to play ambassador between species.
If Karn is to be believed, then the makers in Tri-Stone are breaking a pattern thatâs been consistent for your entire life.
And while you couldnât ask for better friends in them, youâre downright certain that they could find a better friend than you. Somehow, somewhere along the line, youâve managed to convince yourself that, at best, they only like you when you happen to be aroundâŠ
Huh⊠Sound familiar?
Reconciling what Karn has just admitted with what you know to be true leaves you scowling at the ground, perplexed and cold, growing colder by the second without his palms around you to keep the worst of the rainâs chill from settling in.
Suppressing a shudder, you clutch at your own elbows and scornfully huff, âWhatâs to miss?â
Maybe the cold is why your response came out frostier than it was supposed to.
Droplets of rainwater trickle down to gather at hem of Karnâs tunic, falling to the ground around him with soft âplips.â Heâs watching you again, and you must be cutting a pretty wretched figure because he lowers his arms and lets them dangle at his sides, the incredulity softening to genuine concern.
âEverythinâ,â he breathes.
An explosive and dubious snort jumps out of you before you can think to catch it.
Pinning his ears back, Karn argues, âSâtrue!â
And while you donât reply with words, you still throw your brows up and dip your chin, glancing off to the furthest wall, entirely unconvinced.
The maker grits his teeth. Fine. If thatâs how youâre going to be⊠Perhaps itâs time he stops being a coward and gives you some irrefutable evidence.
âI-⊠I lo-âŠâ Cutting himself off with a grimace, Karn clenches his eyes shut tight and gives himself a mental kick.
So much for being brave.
Slowly, he peels them open again and sweeps a massive hand out towards you, holding it still, palm to the roof of the tunnel as if heâs trying to entreat you over to his side of the argument. âThey all love you,â he croaks.
You canât help it.
You flinch, eyes darting up to the maker in palpable alarm.
It isnât quite panic that flashes like solar-fire across your chest at that, but itâs from the same vein.
The âLâ word.
Equal parts intimidating and wonderful. In this instance however, it feels as if heâs poised the word towards you like the business end of a sword.
âCome on Karn,â you force a carefree chuckle that almost gets stuck somewhere halfway up your throat, and comes out a rigid, wooden sound, harder to ignore than the uninvited squeeze of your chest, âI mean, sure Iâm tolerable⊠But loveable? ThatâsâŠâ You pause, sucking air in through your gritted teeth. âA bit of a stretch.â
Something in him gives a whimper and shrinks back in dismay at your comment. Then, he immediately shifts his weight forwards, collapsing onto his knees with a thud and planting each hand on the ground at your sides, trying not to read into the tiny step you take away from him.
âYouâŠâ The youngling chuffs, letting his forehead pucker miserably. âYou donât believe me.â
An unanticipated explosion of noise nearly rocks him backwards onto his heels.
âCan we-! Not! Do this!?â you exclaim shrilly, forcing out yet another self-conscious laugh as you wheel away from him, unaccustomed to feeling quite so exposed.
Because itâs awkward. Itâs unpleasant. And it dredges up feelings youâd rather not let see the light of day, insecurities better left dead and buried for your own sake and the solace of the people around you.
You were both in such a good mood earlier.
What happened?
âDo what?â Karn retorts, nudging his head to the side to try and recapture your focus, âTell you youâre important to us?â
âThatâs not what you said.â
âI said they love you. Whatâs wrong with that?â
Nothing.
Everything.
Nothing wrong with saying it except for who he said it to.
With a brusque shake of your head, you take another step away from him and closer to the mouth of the tunnel, to the cascading sheet of water that tumbles from its overhang. The spray hits the ground and skims up the front of your legs.
It isnât too late to salvage the levity, you reckon. If thereâs one thing youâre halfway good at, itâs knocking a tough conversation off its trajectory and swinging it back to safer waters.
â⊠Nothing, buddy,â you shrug, falling back on the nickname he seems so fond of â although maybe heâs only fond of it because it came from you. âNothing worth getting all worked up over anyway.â
Plastering on a grin that aches at the edges and feels as fruitless an endeavour as stapling jelly to a wall, you swivel around on a heel until youâre facing the maker once again, still on his knees, still grimacing down at you like youâre the most pitiful thing heâs seen all day.
The crooked arch of your smile gives a twitch. âForget it⊠Câmon,â you sigh, gesturing at the long tunnel behind him as you begin to shuffle around his flank, âLetâs just⊠get back to the village, yeah? We can dry off in the forge. Warm up, and you can-â
â-No.â
Youâre stopped dead in your tracks. Not from any conscious decision, but because the encompassing warmth of an immense palm sweeps up behind you for all of a second before a thumb and two fingers pinch the back of your shirt, pulling you to a halt directly beside the maker.
Heâs leant across himself, snagging you gently in his paw but frowning hard at the ground between his knees.
Blinking widely, you manage to crank your neck around enough to look at him in profile, your spine rigid against the tips of his fingers. âNo?â you ask.
And then, youâre being dragged, just slowly enough that youâre able to stay on your feet as youâre forced to tread backwards, heel over toe, offering only a few, indignant noises of complaint until you find yourself standing in between Karnâs knees once more.
âHey! Do you mind?â you grunt, reaching over your shoulder to shove at his gloved fingertips.
Blessedly, they come away without much fuss, but his hand doesnât venture far, resting on its side behind you on the ground and curling up like a leather barricade, hemming you in, removing one more angle of escape.
Crafty bastard.
Still, despite the frown on his face, his eyes are darting from you to the floor and back again, a nervous habit you began to notice after heâd say something he wasnât sure youâd approve of.
âI-I donât want to,â he stutters, âForget it, I mean.â As if he might have been talking about anything else.
Under normal circumstances, heâd want nothing more than to âforget it,â if thatâs what you want. To go back to how things were not five minutes ago when he wasnât at risk of jeopardising the best friendship heâs ever had.
When was the last time he ever said ânoâ to you for fear of causing any sort of rift? He wracks his brains but turns up nothing.
Makerâs bones, he really does have it bad, doesnât he?
So much so, apparently, that heâs deemed the risk of losing your friendship a lesser price to pay than the risk of having you believe youâre just tolerable. And if the only way to change your perspective is to reach into his chest, scoop out his heart and wrap your gentle hands around it and tell you, âThis, right here. This belongs to only you,â then so be it.
So, prying his clenched jaws apart, he inhales a vast lungful of air to steady the fluttering in his chest and locks you in his sights, holding your gaze without a thought to let it go until heâs said his piece.
âIâm not done talkinâ,â he tells you with his faux-authority, âAnd youâre not done listeninâ to what I have to say.â
âKarn,â you start, blinking up at the once-passive maker like heâs grown a second head.
But he doesnât give you a chance to say any more than that.
Lifting his free hand from the ground, he jabs the tip of his forefinger into your chest, just hard enough to jostle you as he demands, âHow come you donât think we love you?â
âKarn-â
â-âCause we do,â he steamrolls over your feeble protest, âThe others-⊠they donât just tolerate you. They think the world oâyou.â
Fists clenching at your sides, you retort, âDoesnât mean they love me, Karn.â
âThey do,â he insists with a flash of his tusks.
Your own teeth are on display now, mirroring his frustrated grimace. âStop saying that!â you argue waspishly, taking an inadvertent step back only for your calves to bump into the palm behind you.
âWhy!?â he presses, âSâit really that hard to believe!?â
âAnd what if it is!?â
âIt shouldnât be!â
âThey donât love me, Karn!â you finally snap, raising your voice until it echoes down the tunnel and reverberates back into your ears, your own words reaffirmed shrilly by the cold, stone walls, âNobody does!â
The maker suddenly adjusts his weight, and he pitches forwards, looming over you with his lips curled back and his eyes burning with the fanatical desperation of a man afraid of never being heard. Slamming his fist against the ground, never-minding the way you recoil into the cup of the palm behind you, he finally bellows out the words heâs been holding onto since the day you stumbled over that far horizon and into his life.
âI do!â
âŠ. âŠâŠ âŠâŠâŠ Itâs⊠funny.
When Karn imagined how this confession might go, he pictured it happening at sunset, the pair of you laying side by side on the soft grass of the vale, sleepy and satisfied from another ruin ticked off the proverbial list as you bask in the fiery hues of Lios and Heliaâs rays as they descend below Stonefatherâs Peak. Or perhaps heâd tell you at twilight, after the rest of the village have retired and all is soft silence save for the insects chirruping in the creek, and the lunar thrips dance over your heads whilst you sit and talk in hushed tones on the wall surrounding Muriaâs garden.
Maybe, on occasion, heâs even dared to imagine how you would react to the news. Naturally, in his mindâs eye, youâd be thrilled. Eyes glistening with tears, youâd tell him you canât believe he waited so long to fess up, and then youâd climb into his lap and declare with all the strength in your chest that you love him too. Always have. Ever since that day he met you outside the Cauldron.
This however⊠This was not what he imagined. Not even close. Spilling his most closely-guarded secret into the cold, lonely air of a tunnel with the rain cascading in waterfalls as a backdrop. And you, staring up at him with your eyes as dull and despondent as the weather outside your little refuge. You donât look thrilled.
In fact, the only similarity he can draw between his fantasy and this reality is that thereâs moisture glistening behind your lashes.
Exhaling raggedly, Karn slumps backwards onto the heels of his boots, tusks jutting out from his drooped lower lip.
âI love you,â he repeats croakily, searching, coaxing...
Gradually, the line thatâs cut between your brows starts to lengthen, cleaving deeper into your skin, and he finds himself holding onto the air in his chest, peering down at you unblinkingly.
âNo,â you utter in a voice as blunt as the business end of his hammer, âYou donât.â
Hurts about as much as a good slug from it too.
âYes, I do,â he insists with an urgency that puts your back up.
Snapping into motion, you kick your trembling limbs into gear and storm sideways, escaping the breadth of his palm and back-peddling towards the vale once more, unaware of much beyond putting distance between yourself and these feelings of vulnerable confusion.
As you stumble backwards, you try to steel your heart against the maker crumpling in front of you. âYou donât love me, Karn,â you protest, slapping a splayed hand against your chest to add, âI donât even love me. Hell, I barely even like me, why in the world would you?â
Hasty as a giant his size can be, Karn suddenly scrambles upright, getting his boots underneath him and taking a lurching step after you, one of his arms stretching out to bridge the gap between you. âHow can you say that?â he pleads, and then, âHave you met yourself? How could I not love you!?â
You can think of several very harsh reasons off the top of your head, though none that you want to give voice to lest he think youâre looking for pity. Youâre not.
Youâre just⊠spooked.
Hell, Karn is certainly trying to approach you like youâre a horse thatâs just seen a plastic bag, palms held out, treading carefully after you as you retreat further from him.
From one step to the next, an icy rush of water smacks the top of your skull without warning, and you let out a gasp of shock as the freezing rain spills down your shoulders and over your back until youâre once again drenched, exposed to the elements. You donât stop though, not even when you nearly slip on the mud underfoot. You just continue moving backwards, watching the dark curtain of water that conceals the tunnel entrance.
âWait!â a voice calls out, fighting to be heard over the deluge. Suddenly, Karnâs massive silhouette emerges from behind the curtain and diverges the water into two paths, letting them come together again as he steps out into the vale, his boot prints utterly swallowing the ones youâve left behind.
âWhereâre you going?â he begs, voice cracking.
Where are you going? Where do you usually retreat to when youâve been blindsided and you need some time to sort through the squall of thoughts trying to race around in your head?
âIâm going home, Karn,â you tell him defeatedly, stumbling around on the slippery mud until youâre facing the far end of the vale.
The splashing of Karnâs boots grows quiet for a moment before it picks up again, hurrying towards you.
âBut⊠what about the others?â
âThe othersâll be fine!â you blurt, âJust tell them I said goodbye and had to rush! Itâs not like this is the last time Iâll ever see you guys!â
Karnâs stomach gives an unpleasant lurch at the mere notion of never seeing you again, and as the seconds pass and he finds his insides tightening under winding tendrils of dread that squeeze at his guts and pluck at the nerves around his heart, the makerâs strength is sapped straight out of him, leaving him to trundle to a slow, unsteady halt halfway down the slope.
He wants to kick himself. Kind of wishes Thane had caught the pair of you sneaking out of Tri Stone if it meant he wouldnât have stuck his foot in his mouth and scared you off. Alyaâs always complaining about him and his big mouth⊠Heâs never regretted opening it as much as he does now though.
All he can do is try to make things right again.
âIâmâŠ! Iâm sorry,â he croaks at the back of your retreating head, too softly for you to catch over the pouring rain and howling wind.
Blinded by the water hammering against his face, he raises a hand and squints underneath it, cupping the other around his mouth to call, âIâm sorry!â
Your figure, a tiny blob of colour against the greyscale landscape, slows to a staggered halt.
Bolstered by the pause, he dares to take a hesitant step towards you, hollering for the third time, âIâm sorryâŠ! I didnât- ⊠Look, just-! Just come back! Youâll catch âyer death if you walk to the Tree in this!â
Itâs the concern in his voice that hits you hardest, leaving you colder than the very real chill settling into your bones from the rain.
Youâve made him think heâs the one who has anything to apologise forâŠ
That couldnât be further from the truth.
Heâs your friend. One of the best youâve ever had. It isnât his fault youâre so full of doubt that itâs more comical than tragic.
To doubt is what makes you Human, you remember Death telling you some time ago when you were trying to come to grips with his own existence, for once without a hint of derision in his tone, just a matter-of-factness that reminded you of how old people talk about the weather, Of all the Universeâs species, Iâve never known any to cast as much doubt as humans.
âCan you blame us?â youâd thought privately at the time. How could we not after finding out that every bit of wonder we thought might be real â magic, superheroes, knights and dragons, Good triumphing over Evil - they all turned out to be well-meaning lies invented by adults to make our childhoods just a little more magical before the real truth set in. That the world isnât such a fantastical place after all.
Then again⊠in a Universe that has since proved to you that magic does exist, as do angels, demons and giants, why does the concept of being loved seem so implausible?
If you ever figure out the answer to that, Jamaerah might have to make you an honorary scribe.
Lost to your musings, you almost donât notice the moment when the rapid drumbeats of rain on top of your head comes to a stop.
You certainly notice the shadow that falls over you though, blanketing you in a muted darkness and finally drawing your gaze up off the glistening grass underfoot.
Craning your neck back, you find Karn standing over you with one of his bulky arms raised and his hand poised above your head, fingers splayed out like the prongs of an umbrella, keeping the worst of the rain off you and letting it drizzle harmlessly over his glove instead. The gesture is sweet, knocking some of the wind out of your sails.
Together, you must paint a pretty dismal picture.
He meets your gaze for all of a second before he turns it to the ground again, struck shy in the face of the woman who quite literally ran from his declaration of love. Â
âCome back to town with me,â he all but pleads, hunched over, unsure of himself, âMâsorryâŠâ
There are far worse things, evidently, than facing the impossibility of being loved. First and foremost; the sight of real tears glinting in Karnâs warm, grey eyes. Or perhaps thatâs just the rain gathering on his lashes. Either way, the damage is done, a surge of guilt has stoppered your urge to escape, and you donât think you can bear to hear him apologise to you once more.
The sigh you heave is long and slow, and you end it by offering the maker a simple shake of your head, still clinging to your elbows. âDonât,â you murmur, shuddering as a breeze rolls across the valley, carried down from the snowy peaks of the mountains, âDonât be sorry, okay? You didnât do anything wrong.â
âYou ran,â he points out as gently as he can to still be heard over the wind.
âYeah, wellâŠâ You shrug helplessly. âGuess Iâm just⊠jumpy.â
âCause I said I-⊠Yâknow. That.â
Wincing, you start to say, âYou donât lo-â but one glance at the makerâs darkening expression has you changing tacks, âNot everyone was made to be loved, Karn. Plenty of people live their whole lives without knowing what it feels like. People like me. Thatâs just our lot in life. And thatâs⊠itâs okay.â
âButâŠâ Wetting his already rain-slicked lips, he shakes his head and stubbornly retorts, âBut itâs not true for you.â
Finally prying your fingernails out of your bare arms, you clasp your hands together instead and rub a thumb against the inside of your palm, considering your next words carefully.
âI know that people donât⊠think about me the way I sometimes want to be thought about,â you start, âAnd when you grew up the way I did, you learn that anyone who tells you⊠that⊠is either a liar orâŠâ Pausing, you look hard at the youngling staring back at you, painfully earnest and attentive. ââŠOr theyâre wrong,â you finish, fixing him with a solemn stare. âI donât think youâre a liar, Karn.â
âAnâ I know Iâm not wrong,â he replies firmly, and then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, âCause Iâm never as happy as I am when youâre around.â
And what the Hell are you supposed to say to that beyond a succinct, âHuh?â
The side of Karnâs nose curls around a hard sniff as he starts to bend his knees, crouching slowly into a squat and reaching a hand out towards you, palm tilted up in an invitation that you recognise well. âWhen I heard you were cominâ back to Tri Stone for a visit,â he begins, âI got so excited I forgot to sleep! All I could do was count the days âtil you arrived.â
⊠OhâŠ
Excited? To see you?
Thatâs⊠new.
Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you worry at it for a moment, studying the very tempting â undoubtedly warm â seat being offered to you. Now that your initial flight has been pulled up short, youâre almost embarrassed to have found yourself standing awkwardly out here, shivering in the rain.
âNâwhen you finally did,â Karn adds hoarsely, âIt was like everythinâ I was ever worried about didnât seem so bad!â The waver in his voice drags your attention from his hand and returns it to his face, just in time to see him wrestle his lips into an encouraging smile. â⊠âcause you were here.â
The teeth on your lip bite down hard enough that the pain briefly distracts you from a sudden sting prickling behind your eyelids.
It appears even Karn hadnât expected his own sentiment to sound quite so tender. He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing behind his dusty, blue cowl before he clears his throat and aims a sheepish nod at the palm hovering tantalisingly close to your side.
âLook, just⊠Come back to town, eh? Least âtil the rain stopsâŠâ And then with his next utterance, he goes straight for the jugular. âBlackrootâll be heartbroken if you leave without sayinâ goodbye to him at least.â
Despite the mood, you canât stop the wet, aborted laugh that flies out of your mouth. âNow thatâs just fighting dirty,â you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of a wrist.
âHehâŠâ Karn has to catch the inside of his cheek to suppress a triumphant grin, hiding the quirk of his lips by glancing down at the mud thatâs caked all over his boots. âWell,â he shrugs bashfully, âSeems fittinâ.â
Several second fritter away, carried off by the wind whilst the pair of you hover near each other in silence, each considering the other from the corner of an eye.
Until at last, with the softest, most tentative motion, you turn your back to the makerâs proffered hand⊠and slowly sink down onto the edge of his palm.
Gasping in a tiny, hopeful breath, Karnâs eyes grow wide and round as he lifts his gaze to see you swinging your legs up and into his glove, settling back against his fingers as they curve over to meet your delicate spine.
The wrongness thatâs been festering around his heart dissipates like a noxious cloud blown away by a fresh breeze.
Bodily, the youngling slumps, nearly rocking all the way over as his shoulders droop whilst his heart rises from the dark, moiling pit thatâs steadily closing up in his belly.
He falls just shy of gushing out a heartfelt âthank you,â deciding instead to simply pull you in close to his chest and beam down at you through his sodden lashes, keeping his free hand curled slightly over your head to stave off the downpour thatâs still drumming across the vale.
Sheltered on one side by the makerâs girth, held safely in his palm while the other protects your back and head, you try to ease the last vestiges of panic from your lungs by drawing in an aching breath and exhaling it all out again, following Karnâs lead and allowing your body to just⊠slump.
âIâm sorry,â you confess, drawing your knees up to wrap your trembling arms around them and hug them tight, leaning sideways against the younglingâs sternum.
His almighty chest rumbles beneath your ear when he offers a soft, âMâsorry too.â
âKarn, you really donât have to be sorry for-â
â-Not sorry for what I said,â he interrupts, starting the laborious trudge up the slope towards Tri Stone once more, âI ainât sorry for that. I meant it.â
Canting his head down to peer at you over the fraying edge of his cowl, the makerâs eyes crinkle at their corners as he scrutinises you, and when he sighs, his chest rises and falls so greatly, you can hear his heartbeat picking up speed even behind the thick, woolly cloth of his tunic.
âIâm sorry you donât believe itâs possible,â he finishes.
If Karn had his way, heâd find out who the thief was who stole the certainty out of your heart and heâd bare his tusks and clench his fists and demand they put it backâŠ
But thatâs the wishful thinking of a youngling whoâs ferociously loyal and desperate to prove his worth to you.
There are other ways, a wizened voice whispers at the back of his mind, sounding suspiciously like Eideard.
Karn blinks, humming lowly in his throat.
âDonât matter if you believe me or not,â he sniffs with an air of finality, plodding over the mud with far more surefootedness than he had before, âYou didnât believe in makers âbout a year ago. Didnât make us any less real.â
âHm⊠Fair point,â you concede, raising your head to peer tiredly up at the ceiling of rock that swallows you both down into dry, familiar darkness, lit only by a scattering of glowstones embedded into the walls.
âAnd if⊠if itâs hard for you to hear it,â he continues hesitantly as you swivel around to meet his eye, âThen I wonât say it to you⊠Iâll show you.â He barely even registers that heâs slowed his gait to focus on you, nor that heâs lifting you towards his face inch by precious inch until youâre sitting level with his stare. âIâll spend the rest of your life showinâ you what you mean to me,â he says, brooking no argument. Then, rather generously, he nods his chin in the vague direction of Tri Stone and adds, âTo all of us.â
Later, youâll blame it on the sentimental nature of the eveningâs conversation, or the cold getting to your head, but whatever you foist the blame onto, deep down you know good and well that there was nothing that could have stopped you from kneeling up in Karnâs glove and teetering forwards until you flop quite abruptly over his shoulder. There, you proceed to wrap your arms as far as theyâll go around his thick neck, holding onto him like heâs the only anchor you have left to tether you to this realm. Implicitly, you trust that his palm will remain beneath your legs to keep you from falling.
In turn, Karn doesnât even hesitate for a second before heâs melting into your embrace with a rich, contented hum. His comparatively monstrous hand, gentled by weeks of learning how to hold you, falls across your back and squashes you carefully to his neck as he tucks in his chin and pushes his nose into your hair.
Long gone are the days when youâd extend a gesture of friendly affection to the maker and heâd react as if you were trying to hand him a live grenade, startled, skittery, and completely clueless as to how he should be reciprocating.
He was scared to death that he might hurt you by accident until you showed him how much more resilient humans were than he expected, and he learned quickly, ravenously, drinking in every last scrap of tenderness you fed him like a man on the cusp of starvation. He learned how to hold you â exactly like he is now â without squeezing the air out of your lungs, yet in such a way that youâre fairly confident there isnât a force in the Universe that could pry you out of his hands.
He learned because you showed him.
Perhaps⊠when he says heâll show you, the implication is that you could learn as wellâŠ
And you think, maybe, with his fingertips pressing you enduringly against him, his mile-wide smile nuzzling fondly at the top of your head and his heart pumping in tandem with yours, you think maybe he already has.
Philophobia: "i don't understand love"
epz 4: nice meeting you!
synopsis: meeting Lara for the first time.
warnings: mild language
an: surprise and def a short narration and creds to @/chrissiren for the dividers!
yn sat across from Lara, sitting beside Minji who's looking at Lara because the girl was drooling over yn.
"hey yn" Megan greeted with a smile, waving at the girl who waves back "this is Lara, she's part of our biology class." Megan said, nudging Lara beneath the table who snapped out of her weird stare.
"hi! im Lara Raj!" Lara said in a high pitched voice, making Megan snicker beside her. God, this girl is fumbling for the first time.
"nice to meet you, Lara" yn said with a polite smile, unaware of Minji's glare at Lara and Karina's.. jealous glare but Lara doesn't give a shit to them, her focus is solely on you.
"soo.. about the party tomorrow, are you gonna go, yn?" Minji asked the girl beside her, releasing her immense glare at Lara to focus on the younger.
"yes! of course, i will" yn said and Lara internally celebrate by that, smiling at yn. "you got someone to fetch you?" Lara asked but of course, Minji glares at Lara but before the older can talk
"i'll fetch her." Karina mumbles coldly, staring at Lara who raised an eyebrow and yn, too. "you'll fetch me?"
"see? the girl didn't even agree, i will fetch her" Lara said and Megan bit her lips as she pulls Lara up. "we'll get going, see you guys tomorrow!" Megan said in a hurry while Lara whines, still wanting to chat with yn.
"see you, pretty woman!"
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