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possumbylight · 1 year

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Lonely Rite

A/N: this is my first time posting my writing on tumblr despite posting on ao3 a bit recently so i wanted to start cross posting my stuff in case anybody here wants to read it too thanks for stoppin by ;)

Summary: She can’t sleep while her husband is away on a two-week business trip. so she turns to the next best thing, even if it is ten feet taller than her and made of stone.

Warnings: None! it’s fluff, and i don’t think there’s any language (if there is it’s super mild), and there’s one teeny itty bitty suggestive line at the end but it is so so mild i swear

Pairings: Zhongli/Reader, Hu Tao and Childe as pals along the way

The driving rain was her only warmth, though it slowly chilled her the longer the evening drew on. It was impractical to risk exposure to the element, but all practicality had dwindled over the past two weeks like a waning flame that finally evaporated into smoke when she had first stepped into the storm.

For two weeks, she had fought to find interest anywhere other than the nagging thoughts in her brain, seeking company from just about anyone who would humor her for even a moment. She was not usually one to stop to converse with street-side merchants for no reason but friendly chitchat-- that was more her husband’s domain, after all-- but everyone from the perfume seller to the old kite-maker to the shaky fishmonger by the docks had entertained her insatiable need to kill time.

She was running out of topics of conversation. The weather could only get her so far, and she was loath to discuss the death of Rex Lapis, given that she was not good at keeping secrets.

When she failed to sleep for the nth time since her husband’s departure, she grew sick of her ordeal, sick of the inside of her house, and sick of the empty bed that was far too big for her alone. She knew precisely where she was headed when she opened her front door, and even the bite of the stinging rain could stop her from completing her mission. It was, undoubtedly, a drastic measure, but she had put up far too long with drastic times.

Two weeks prior.

“I will not be away long, dearest,” her husband promised, though his own eyes were laced with a distinct sorrow that even his unending wisdom could not mask. “I will write when I can. Will you write to me, as well?”

“If I don’t, will you come home sooner?”

He laughed. She would miss the sound.

“I will return as soon as my job is complete.”

“And you’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“I fear your boss at the book house would not appreciate your sudden departure,” he argued, frustratingly practical to the extent that it made her pout. It wasn’t fair that he always made such good points. She deserved to be impractical every now and again, but her husband always made far too much sense. “And I could hardly put you in such danger. I fear that the days ahead will be harsh. You should not be subjected to such hostilities.”

“And you should?”

“I have survived far worse.”

“Yes, but you can’t exactly hurl mountainsides anymore, can you?” She muttered under her breath, folding her arms like a cross child, if only so that he would dote upon her.

“While it is true that I cannot control the earth as I could in my youth, you underestimate my resolve. I am no feeble old man, my love. I will return to you safely, as I always have, as I always will.”

Eventually, she had been convinced, though hardly happy about it. She may have been a lowly bookstore clerk with a penchant for adventure novels, but she was also a seasoned adventurer herself. Who better to judge such subject matter than one who has experienced it firsthand?

Y/n could have easily boarded the boat with her husband and traveled to Inazuma to fulfill whatever harebrained request had been made of him. Why some random Inazuman citizen had any authority to commission a funeral parlor consultant from Liyue, she did not know, but if she ever met the doushin who had sent for her husband to cross the sea under such treacherous conditions, she would not be kind.

But despite her dramatics, she woke up the next day, rubbed her eyes of sleep all by herself, made tea all by herself, and made the walk to work all by herself, feeling all the while that the sun was a little dimmer without her companion to help guide her step.

She felt desperate. She felt pathetic, like some poor little lost puppy, following her husband around and giving him big moony eyes every time he so much as cleared his throat to speak, but before she had met him, she had been lonely for some time. She was quiet by nature, and when she had packed her life up and moved to Liyue on a whim, it hadn’t been long before she realized that her only friends were coworkers and books.

Meeting him amongst the shelves was a dream, and falling in love with him was a fresh adventure every day.

As she stepped behind the desk at the Wanwen Bookhouse, she remembered exactly where he had stood when she had first met him.

She didn’t want to bother him—most who wandered onto the top level of Wanwen Bookhouse enjoyed the quiet. The Liyue sun was good to them, pleasantly wandering across the spines of books but not so harsh that it bore down on the patrons as they leisurely paced through the shelves. She tended to let her visitors experience the shop at their own pace until they signaled a need of her.

This man, however, looked so remarkably pensive that she could not help but ask. His one hand pressed lightly to his chin and the other tucked behind his back, the only part of him that proved him not to be an elegant statue was his hair, bristling at the ends as the wind flitted through the pages around him.

“Can I help you find something today?” she asked him, approaching as though opening her hand toward a timid animal. “You look awfully deep in thought.”

He took his time responding, but his kind smile was enough to assure her that she had not overstepped. When he did speak, his voice, sturdy as stone and smooth like honey, warmed her.

“I am glad you asked. If I might take a moment of your time, I have several questions regarding this series.”

“I’d be happy to answer, sir.”

He took a single book into his gloved hands, cradling it gently yet weighing it as though assessing its contents through feel alone, as if it would somehow whisper to him the precise questions he ought to ask of her. She took his brief distraction to watch him unabashedly. The people of Liyue were pretty, certainly, but this man had eyes made of precious stone a face of ageless beauty. The way he carried himself alone was enough to make her feel only two inches tall, but the ease with which he spoke to her and the care of his words calmed her.

“I am curious about the author. Zhang Jianning is a name I have yet to encounter. Do you know of his history?”

She nodded, a quiet smile rising on her face. Thankfully, the man had asked her about a beloved adventure series, one which she was immensely fond of. If there was any single employee at the Wanwen Bookhouse who could best answer his questions, it was her.

“Zhang Jianning is actually a pen name. Call of the Ocean Void was actually written by a woman, who used the name of her husband so that she could publish her works.”

“Fascinating,” he replied, and she sensed that he meant it. Sometimes, a customer would ask her for a recommendation, and she would get overexcited at the prospect and accidentally bore the patron into pitying her, nodding along though they had stopped caring long ago. It wasn’t often, after all, that she got to talk to people about a subject she loved so dearly, so when someone asked a question, she really let herself go.

“Her name was actually Zhang Ting, and her work was revolutionary at the time. The genre was flooded with a whole lot of men telling the same stories, and when Ting published the first book of her series, it was an instant success. She revealed her true name when she finished the last installment of the series, and then published everything afterwards under her own name. But instead of changing newly published editions of Call of the Ocean Void, she kept them under her husband’s name as thanks to him.”

“That is a wonderful tale,” the man complimented her, and she flushed at the praise. It wasn’t every day that she had tall, handsome men praising her for her ability to ramble about her favorite books. “Do you enjoy this series yourself?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You are obviously quite interested in its history. Do you enjoy the content, as well?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” she explained as her fingers brushed across the book spines, coming to rest on one particular novel. “The fourth book is my favorite. It’s—well, I won’t tell you, in case you decide you’d like to read it. Do you like adventure novels?”

“I often find myself consuming solely non-fictional accounts and entirely neglecting fiction, but I have recently become quite appreciative of the thrill of adventure.”

Y/n had helped him purchase the book, and within a few days, he had returned for the next book in the series. By the fourth book, he decided that he would buy all of them at once, and she, though pleased by the idea that she had sparked his interest in a beloved series, lamented that she would no longer be encountering the man who was turning out to be her favorite customer.

As she carefully jotted down the details of his newest purchase for her records, he cleared his throat, and for the first time, she witnessed a slight discomfort in his stance.

“Miss Y/n, I wonder if you have ever taken the time to listen to the local storytellers? I find that Tian is quite skilled in his art.”

“Mr. Tian is the storyteller at Third-Round Knockout, right? I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Then, perhaps you would be interested in accompanying me tomorrow evening.”

“To… to listen to the storyteller?”

“Yes, if you would like. If you have other matters to attend, I understand.”

“No, I would like that.”

Y/n sighed sweetly at the memory, cursing her past self for being so oblivious and so cowardly. If she had accepted that their first trip to the storyteller had been their first date, then perhaps they could have moved on with the whole relationship with considerably more efficiency than they did, dawdling and pining for at least a year.

Despite the memories that lived amongst all of the shelves, she completed her job as efficiently as she could without daydreaming.

Eleven Days Prior.

Several days later, and she was desperate enough to wander into the halls of the Northland Bank, seeking the company of the man who had attempted to drown the entire city with her inside it, and yet, somehow became a friend to both her and her husband. Tartaglia, if rumor was to be believed, had killed her husband, but she only rolled her eyes at such tall tales. The bloodthirsty Eleventh Harbinger would never kill without a proper fight, and despite his grandstanding, a row with Morax was not a fight Tartaglia could reasonably win.

“I’m here to see Childe,” she muttered to the baffled attendant behind the counter. Usually when she made visits to the Northland Bank, she was accompanied by her husband, whose stately presence made up for the fact that the two of them were seemingly nobodies come to call on a high and mighty harbinger. Now all by herself, she was just a shy little civilian who no doubt appeared visibly unnerved by the hollow and clean halls of the bank.

“Lord Tartaglia does not take meetings without an appointment,” came the steady reply. The guards eyed her warily. “What is your name?”

“Y/n. I don’t have an appointment, though.”

“Then I’m afraid you will have to return once you have made the appropriate preparations.”

“Oh. Sorry, then, I—”

“Y/n! There you are, comrade.” If the voice wasn’t unmistakable, the fiery head of hair that bobbed down the stairs was a clear tell from a mile away. As soon as his boots hit the expensive marble floor, all heads in the room bowed in reverence. Y/n felt a swell of pride in her chest. “Don’t tell me that Levin was giving you a hard time.”

“He was just making sure I wasn’t coming to assassinate you, I suppose.”

“And? Are you?”

“Don’t sound so excited about it, Childe. I’m a decent adventurer, but I would be far too easy of a fight for you.”

“Yes, I fear that you would be,” he uttered, though his voice was still riddled with the humor that made his threats so chilling—the ease with which he spoke of conquest and battle, followed by a cheery laugh, made talking with him unnerving at times. It was only because he was a dazzling conversationalist and a loyal friend that she and her husband were able to skillfully repress Tartaglia’s rocky past.

“So why do you still look like you want to try it?”

“Ah, because after I’ve successfully gotten you out of the way, then your lover would have no choice but to fight me. Where is Mr. Zhongli, by the way? I’m surprised he’s left you to roam the streets alone.”

Her face scrunched so pitifully that Childe nearly laughed, had it not been for the unutterable sadness that filled her eyes.

“He’s in Inazuma,” she whined, trekking with heavy step up the stairs behind him. “Some stupid doushin asked for his expertise on a case or something.”

“Inazuma. That’s awfully far. How long will he be gone?”

“Two weeks.”

“Aw, poor little thing. You look like someone’s knocked the wind right out of your sails. But, if you’re lonely, we could always go outside the city and find some treasure hoarders to knock around a bit.”

She pondered the idea longer than she was proud of.

“Ask again in a few days,” she finally sighed. “I might get bored enough to take you up on that.”

One Week Prior.

She had, several days later, taken up Tartaglia on his offer to go adventuring, and even though he had been more than happy to take care of any enemy that passed their way, y/n still ended up aching in the joints and riddled with little cuts and bruises all over every inch of skin that had been exposed during their journey.

So, she hobbled up the long and arduous path to Bubu Pharmacy, praying to all the archons that the tall stairs would miraculously shorten to make her journey less painful.

“How am I supposed to pray to Rex Lapis for the earth to bend to my will,” she muttered bitterly as she heaved another step upward, “when he’s out of town on a business trip?”

“Good afternoon, y/n! You’re looking a little worse for wear. Might I inquire as to why you’re so beaten up?”

Hu Tao skidded to a halt beside her, and somewhere, Qiqi let out a relieved sigh that the director had been momentarily sidetracked by another potential client.

“I went out adventuring yesterday, to pass the time.”

“To pass the time, or to pass away? You know, I have been designing an attractive pair of couple’s coffins for you and Mr. Zhongli, but if you go ahead and die now, you’ll get a significant discount.”

“I don’t plan on dying right now, but thank you,” y/n muttered, somewhat gratefully. She had been quite sure at the bottom of the stairs that she would survive to the top, but somewhere around the middle, her faith in herself wavered.

“Let me know if you change your mind. Have you heard from Mr. Zhongli since he’s been gone?”

“Mm, he sent me a couple letters. The weather’s been rough in Inazuma lately. Apparently, their stormy season is particularly trying.”

Y/n grimaced as she recalled her husband’s wording, and the way she knew he was masking some of the peril he had experienced. No doubt, he was trying his best to keep her from worrying so much that she hopped on the next boat out of town and tried to fight the Raiden Shogun in his honor.

My dearest y/n,

I write to inform you that I have safely landed in Inazuma’s port at Ritou. The maple trees are rich with color, and the air is clean, when the storms have subsided. Ritou is lined with quaint little markets, and I have found the time to pick up a few souvenirs you will no doubt find interesting.

I did remember my wallet, this time.

The famed Yae Publishing House is my next prospect, and I intend to visit as soon as I have reasonable time. Perhaps if I find a suitable novel, I can read it aloud to you when I return. Though, I miss your voice so much I may request that you read it aloud to me, at least for a night. I could never fully give up the sight of you curled up at my side, dozing off to sleep at the sound of my voice.

I hope you are faring well in my absence. I know how reluctant you were to leave me by the docks, and it pained me just as much to watch as you faded into the distance. I could see the tears in your eyes, and my heart begged me to beseech the captain to turn the boat around just so that I could comfort you.

I digress—I do not wish to make you feel lonely.

Inazuma is a beautiful nation, despite its weather becoming volatile at times. There is no need to worry, however, as my lodging during my journey provides me a sturdy roof. I doubt, as well, that this nation’s archon would be so quick to strike me down with her lightning.

Rest assured that the Shogun’s thunder is a terror I have survived many a time.

I hope to bring you here someday, during a season in which the weather is far more temperate. The Sakura trees surrounding the Grand Narukami Shrine are loveliest at the peak of their blooms, and I believe you would enjoy the long and winding walk to the mountain’s peak. The pathway is paved with stone, and the red of the wooden terraces is rich against the pale blue of the sky.

Nothing compares, however, to the way you shine under the Liyue sun. I hope the sun shines on the day I return to you, darling, but even if it does not, I will be equally overjoyed to see you.

All my love,

Zhongli

Y/n hoped that Hu Tao couldn’t read the way her lip barely trembled at the thought of the poetic letter. She wished, after all the beautiful books she had read, of all the brilliant and descriptive words she knew, that she could write nearly as well as Zhongli. He always went on about how he loved the way her words sounded on her tongue or on the page, but she knew that she was hardly impressive compared to him.

She swooned when he so much as asked her to pass the sugar bowl.

Hu Tao, despite having offered y/n a comfortable means of transport to the afterlife, helped her up the stairs until Dr. Baizhu could properly prescribe a salve that would hopefully heal all of her wounds by the time her husband arrived, though she wasn’t opposed to the idea of her beloved doting on her as he cooed at how pitiful her wounds looked.

Perhaps she would skip a few applications and let Zhongli give her a massage, for good measure.

Four Days Prior.

She stared down the incense burner with an intense passion, as though lighting the embers with her very eyes. Of course, she could write letters to her husband, but it wasn’t fast enough. It wasn’t nearly as comforting as talking to him in person, and even though he wasn’t nearly as involved in Liyue’s affairs as before, he was still at least semi-divine, so she was willing to stake her chances that he might hear her should she direct all her wishes to Rex Lapis’s little effigy that sat atop the stone burner instead of waiting for Zhongli to reply.

She spoke to him with little regard for the other supplicants milling about the terrace—if anyone should hear her, they would likely think her some enthusiast of the former Geo Archon, mourning his loss and pining for his return.

“I miss you,” she spoke as the fragrance began warming the air around her. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I miss you so much it hurts.”

Waiting on a sign was silly, but she still hoped beyond hope that the smoke might give her some kind of signal. When nothing happened, she addressed him again, this time listing all of the names she could remember, just in case. The earth might not respond to Zhongli, but it would certainly recognize Morax.

“Zhongli. Rex Lapis. Lord of Geo. Morax. If you can hear me, you should say something now so I don’t look like a buffoon talking to a dead god.”

It could have been her eyes playing tricks on her—her sleep schedule had been wretched in her husband’s absence—but the smoke gave a slight hitch to the left as it rose.

“Yes, I know you’re not actually dead, but no one else knows that. What’s the point of marrying a former god if he can’t hear you when you pray to him?”

She sighed, sitting down on the sun-soaked pavement with her legs crossed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy. I just forgot how lonely I was before I met you. Now that we spend so much time with each other, it’s hard to be away from you for this long without going mad. I’m starting to doubt that you can hear me at this point, but if you can, please try to cut your trip short. I don’t know if I’ll last four more days.”

For the next hour, she sat in the sun and mumbled sweet supplications to Rex Lapis, hoping that at least one of them would reach his ears.

He had told her of his identity the night he asked her to marry him. It was a prerequisite, he said. Before he asked her the all-important question, he had to ensure that she was comfortable with all of him—his past, present and future selves.

“Y/n, if we are to proceed with this relationship, I must inform you of something which might alter the course of your feelings towards me. I… have not always been a funeral parlor consultant.”

She expected that perhaps he had been wild in his youth, running with treasure hoarders or engaging in the shady trade that always littered the lower docks. Never could she have imagined that his prior job had been Geo Archon, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He had, more times than she could count, corrected arrogant historians on minute details, filling in narrative holes with all sorts of odd accounts that somehow lined up entirely with historical fact.

Besides that, there was one occasion on which Tartaglia had referred to Zhongli as, “the guy who sealed up Osial in the first place,” which y/n had written off as some strange inside joke between the two.

The night he had revealed the truth to her, it had taken her several hours of questioning, which he had valiantly endured, to adjust to the new information, though her heart never thought twice about her decision to agree to his proposal. When he finally asked the question, she responded so immediately that it shocked him.

“Darling, I am overjoyed to hear this, but I must ask if you are sure. This is quite a lot to take in at once. If you require a few days’ thought, I would understand.”

“I know my answer now. I love you—every bit of you, even the parts that are complicated. I don’t mind what other names you’ve been called in the past, or other lives you’ve lived. You’re my Zhongli now, and you’ll be my Zhongli forever, if you’d like.”

“That is more than I could ever ask.”

When she agreed to marry him, she never pictured herself awaiting his return by sitting cross-legged before his draconic visage, muttering under her breath for only the cool stone to hear. It was worth it, however, to feel that he was so close even when he was so far away. No one else in the harbor could claim that their lover’s figure sat handsomely etched in stone in statues overlooking the city. She was the only one who could confirm whether Rex Lapis at all resembled his statues.

And she was quite smug about that, as well.

One hour prior.

He begged his heart not to expect the sight of her at the docks, her figure swaying amongst the silhouetted crowd as his ship crested the horizon and set for the docks. He had not discussed his arrival time with her, as he did not know it himself, and thus, it would be impractical for him to assume that she lingered at the docks for his return.

Even still, when he saw that the docks were empty at such late hours of the night, his heart stung with the pang of loneliness that would have to last just a bit longer.

He filled his mind instead with visions of her swaddled in blankets, chest rising with steady breath as she dreamed peacefully. When he finally arrived home, he could finally remove his business clothes, let loose his hair, and participate in that sweet domestic ritual of curling up in bed beside his wife, wishing to see her eyes but hating to wake her.

When he opened the bedroom door to find the house entirely empty, he fought to keep himself level. Surely, there was a reasonable answer for this. She had written him hardly a day prior, so he assumed her to be still in good health. Perhaps, even, she had overexerted herself in filling his absence, attending some late-night party from which she would eventually crawl home, exhausted and socially spent.

He doubted this. She had begun to appreciate light conversation more since the start of their relationship, but she was hardly the type to stay out past bedtime to engage in any social activities.

He searched the whole house one more time, thoroughly exhausting all his options until he was left with only the impractical—his wife could hardly fit in the vase by the fireplace, but he had to be sure of this. Compiling a list of her most frequent haunts, he took to the streets, not caring a single bit that the gray clouds had pooled all in one adumbral mass above the harbor, pouring rain that startled the seas with its force.

The Wanwen Bookhouse was, of course, closed at such a late hour, its wares sheltered in billowing tarps that pushed and pulled loudly in the strong winds. He thought she may be there, too, drenching herself to the bone as she fought to keep the pages of her favorite books safe, but she was not hiding amongst the shelves.

The Terrace was empty, save for the dimming light of the glaze lilies, closing their buds to the storm that threatened to pull their stalks from the earth. The incense that had once burned in the public altar was dampened entirely. Just as he was about to head for his next destination, however, the dome of a single lavender umbrella cut through the driving rain.

“Mr. Zhongli, I am surprised to find you here at this hour,” Keqing spoke in measured tone, as though it was perfectly normal for her to be there at that hour. “You’re soaking wet. Might I offer you an umbrella from my office for your journey home?”

“Forgive me, Lady Keqing, I do not mean to be abrupt, but I cannot seem to find my wife.”

“Quite alright, Mr. Zhongli. I assumed she had met you at the docks. I haven’t seen her since yesterday, but if I do, I will be sure to let her know that you’re looking for her.”

“Thank you, Lady Yuheng.”

He was gone long before he could acknowledge the quiet wave of farewell she gave. His next destination—and he prayed this to be wrong—was the pharmacy, where a single lamp flickered in the front office.

“Good evening. Or… is it now morning? Qiqi… does not own a watch.”

“Qiqi, have you seen my wife?” he questioned hurriedly, forgetting in his haste that the smallest of the pharmacy employees was also the slowest.

“Your… wife? You are Mr. Zhongli. Qiqi wrote down your name, because you always compliment Qiqi on the selection of violetgrass. Should Qiqi call for Dr. Baizhu?”

“No, thank you, Qiqi.”

A wasted venture, but one that took him to one of the last locations on his list, and the one place he would find someone who might truly have information. The Northland Bank was, after all, open at all hours of the day and night.

“Enjoying the rain, Zhongli? You don’t seem like the type to go out without an umbrella. I’d be happy to lend a few mora, if you need to procure a new one.”

“Thank you, Childe, but I fear an umbrella would be of no use to me at this point. Pardon me, but I do not have time to speak with you just now, I—”

“No time to speak?” Tartaglia asked him with a strange sort of glimmer in his eye that caught in the moonlight. “That’s odd. It’s rare that you don’t have a story to tell me, though, I suppose it makes sense. You wouldn’t go out in the rain and get soaked for no reason. Tell me, Zhongli, what’s your mission today? You look awfully determined.”

Zhongli sighed. Childe was, by some odd event, a friend to him, and though the two had spent hours exchanging stories, Zhongli was in no mood to humor his friend’s conversation, however amicable. As the hour drew on, his worry grew until it sat heavy right in the center of his chest.

“I have been looking for my wife, to no avail. I am aware that she is capable, but I am beginning to worry.”

“Y/n has certainly been lonely since you left on your little adventure. She’s stopped by the bank on more than one occasion, just to chat. The first time it happened, I thought something must be wrong. I’m not used to seeing one of you without the other at this point.”

“Childe, have you seen her today?”

“I haven’t. But, I might have an idea of where she may be.”

“I would be incredibly grateful for any information you are willing to spare.”

“She’s with you, of course,” Childe answered with a laugh, as though it should be obvious. When Zhongli’s brow furrowed, the younger man’s smile only grew. “I did say that I hardly see one of you without the other, didn’t I? So where else would she be, than with you?”

Childe lifted one long arm to point upwards towards the horizon, dotted with brightening stars that grew as the sun dissipated behind the harbor’s wavering border. Rising tall, just above the rolling hills beyond the city’s gates, stood a singular, familiar figure, glowing faint blue against the darkening sky.

“I see,” Zhongli whispered. The waver in his tone faded into a fondness that untied the great knot of worry that had tangled his heart. It was silly, of course—he should have been upset that his most beloved had ventured out into the rain on such a wild and sentimental hare, but he could not bring himself to feel even the slightest bit of resentment towards her.

He had left her alone for two weeks. It was only reasonable that she should seek comfort in the next best thing. He hardly took time to thank Tartaglia before rushing towards the hillside, following the faint glow of the Statue of the Seven.

As he approached the statue, he saw her, shadowed by stone and sky, huddled into an uncomfortable mass on the statue’s lap. He fended off the passing sting of jealousy—it was his lap, but it wasn’t.

He hardly had trouble making his way up to the top, though as he did, he could not help but wonder how she had climbed there, and in the rain, of all things, but he thought to ask her later. There were far more pressing issues on his mind.

“Darling, wake up,” he cooed, brushing his fingers across the side of her face and warmed at the precious sight of her squirming and mumbling sleepily. “We need to get you out of this rain. You’ll fall ill in this cold.”

“Zhongli,” she whispered, as though in the midst of a sweet dream. “Get home, already. I can’t sleep when you’re not here.”

“I’m sorry, dearest. I am here now. Come—let me take you home.”

“Mmhmm. Okay. Carry me?”

“Of course. Hold on tight.”

“You’re really home?”

“Yes, my love, I am truly home.”

“Oh, no,” she whined, burying her head into his chest. “I’m sorry. You must be tired, and here I’m making you carry me. You can put me down, I can walk on my own.”

“Nonsense. How long have you been curled up against nothing but unyielding stone? It is my pleasure to carry you home, dear.”

She hummed happily as he crossed the threshold of their house, the amber glow of the kitchen lamp flushing their cheeks red with warmth as they sought shelter from the cold rain. Once she was on her own two feet, she quickly returned to the cradle of his arms, hiding herself away against him as though he would disappear if she did not hold him close enough.

“I must seem pathetic,” she whimpered, and he only laughed in response. The gracious rumble in his chest was enough to give her a smile of her own.

“Of course not. Should it be of interest to you, I found it difficult to sleep apart from you as well. The only way I found myself able to close my eyes at all was because I kept something of yours with me.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Oh, I—” he stammered, uncharacteristically flustered at the sudden turn of the conversation that placed all attention on him. “I borrowed a shirt of yours.”

“My green shirt? The one with the pocket on the front? So that’s where it’s been.”

“I apologize if you missed it.”

“I missed it a little, but not as much as I missed you.”

“That is good to hear,” he sighed. He pressed his lips quietly to her forehead, letting himself enjoy the weight of her in his arms before he went to move again, this time taking her by the hand and leading her towards the bedroom. “Come now, darling. We should rid ourselves of these clothes before we both fall ill.”

“Oh?”

“What an odd look in your eyes, dear. I am merely suggesting that you should not remain in wet clothes for very long, for your health.”

“You’re not suggesting anything else?”

He did not respond, but the twitch of his mouth gave him away, and she grasped his hand, eager to follow wherever he may lead.

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli imagine #zhongli fluff #genshin impact imagine #god i am shit at writing specific tags so i hope these work #also if you read this far thanks for reading and i love you

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unreadpoppy · 29 days

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Party Banter #4

Read on AO3

Part 3 here

Series summary: A bunch of short scenarios involving Minthara and Galatea, based on some of the party's in-game banter.

A/N: This is longer than I intended. Also, some Halstarion on the side.

Astarion and Minthara’s relationship had always been a turbulent one. The fact that the vampire used to bed Galatea only made matters worse, and each time the two interacted, there was a vague sense of hostility in the air.

Galatea felt that Astarion was still upset that the drow came in between them, and that Minthara was jealous over her being shared with someone else. Regardless, the tiefling tried to keep things civil between the two, although as their journey progressed, that was looking even more difficult than defeating the elder brain.

One such time was during their journey to Baldur’s Gate, after fighting Ketheric Thorm. Galatea and Minthara had just recently become an item, and the snide remarks coming from Astarion would not end.

He had approached the drow silently, as she watched Galatea walking a few paces ahead. Astarion likened her to a guard dog, but kept the thought to himself. Instead, he said “So…what’s it like caring for someone other than yourself, Minthara”

She was aware of his previous history with their leader, and how…less than stellar things had ended between the two. Usually, when the elf tried to get on her nerves, Minthara would simply ignore his presence. This time, she gave in.

“You have never tried it, I assume.” She said, not looking at him.

He laughed, sarcastically. “Gods, no. It is a lot of work and last time I tried,” He looked directly at Galatea and then turned to Minthara “It did not end well for me.”

“You say that but It takes less work than you devote to maintaining your foppish facade.” She began. Then, turning to him, she whispered. “It would not phase me if that was one of the reasons your past relations have not ended well.” Speaking loudly once again, she finished with “And, besides, it is far more rewarding.”

Astarion’s nostrils flared and he bitterly replied. “Well, at least I was a better man, for the brief period in which I was loved.” He looked Minthara up and down. “Can’t imagine anyone wanting to do that for you though, dear.”

He began to laugh but was soon interrupted when a fist made contact with his nose. “What the hells!” He groaned, holding his nose, while Galatea looked at him angrily.

“I cannot stand you and the constant snide remarks about us anymore.” She held the lapels of his shirt, shaking him as she said “If you talk about Minthara like this again, I swear by all gods-OW” She screamed as Astarion bit into her hand, freeing himself.

“What’s going on here?” Karlach said, as she approached. The others too had come to see the commotion.

The vampires wiped his mouth and said “Say, are you going to leave the drow too, when you grow tired of her as you did me?”

“Son of a bitch!” Galatea ran and jumped on him, as the two began fighting each other like cats. Minthara looked at Karlach and nodded, each woman grabbing one of them, to separate the two.

Minthara held Galatea, as she struggled to free herself from the drow’s grip. Astarion did the same.

“Enough.” Minthara said. “We have an elder brain to fight and this is how you’ll spend your energy? I expect better from both of you.”

With a huff, Astarion freed himself from Karlach’s grip, and marched off without a word. The others followed, leaving Minthara and Galatea by themselves.

“You can let go now, you know.” The tiefling said and the drow relented. She clutched her wounded hand.

Minthara crossed her arms. “Care to explain yourself.”

“I’m irritated.” Galatea sighed. “I heard the whole conversation. I know why he keeps throwing jabs at you and I both and I just-” she shook her head “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” She said, sternly. “I can fight my own battles.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m also not going to stand idly while someone speaks like that to you.” Galatea looked down.

Minthara’s gaze softened, as she uncrossed her arms and took a step closer. She held the tiefling’s wounded hand, covering it in between her both. A glow of warm, blue-ish light spread from Minthara’s hands to Galatea, and soon, her wounds were closed.

“You’re sweet. Sometimes, I believe it is a detriment to your person.” She brought the now healed hand to her mouth, and gently kissed the palm. “I do not want to keep curing you because you decided to defend my honor.”

Galatea nodded. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Good.”

Not far from where they were, Halsin worked on Astarion’s nose, while the vampire didn’t stop complaining for a single moment.

“I just hate how they keep throwing those love sick puppy eyes at each other. It is irritating.” He said. “Gods, Minthara looks more like a guard dog than a lover with how possessive she is.”

“And why does that bother you so much?” Halsin asked, wiping blood from Astarion’s forehead. “Weren’t you saying the other day that you didn’t care about them anymore?”

The vampire huffed. “Not funny.”

“I am asking sincerely.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, it’s just…it’s annoying, don’t you think? Being surrounded by so much love.” Astarion said that last word as if it was something sour.

“I, particularly, do not mind. However, I think you and Galatea were acting exactly like that before.”

“Excuse me, it was completely different.” Halsin lifted one brow and Astarion turned his head. “You wouldn’t understand, and quite frankly, I am done with this conversation.” He began to move away, prompting Halsin to say one last thing.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to pry. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m all ears.” Astarion nodded and marched off.

….

After that situation, things seemed to get slightly easier. Astarion began to spend more and more time around Halsin, which means that his constant yapping near Minthara had gone down.

That didn’t mean that the provocations were fully gone.

It was after a long day’s battle, everyone had settled in around a table in the Elfsong tavern, drinking and making casual conversation. As always, Galatea was sitting next to Minthara, as the drow complained about surface food. Astarion sat on the other side, circling his wine cup in hand, looking at the two of them.

It was after the tiefling laughed at one of Minthara’s scowls that he stood up straighter and said “So…how does Lolth feel about romance?” The drow turned her attention to him, a murderous look on her face.

“I mean, I know things can get quite…brutal in the Underdark. Are you expected to bit your mate’s head off afterwards?” He finished his sentence with a smirk on his face, one the drow was too happy to get rid off.

“Be grateful I no longer follow the Spider Queen’s teachings, daarthir.” She looked deep into his eyes. “If I did, you would be the first to fall into my web.”

The elf’s jaw almost dropped to the floor, as his expression soured. “I can’t tell if you’re joking-” He turned to Halsin, asking nervously “She is joking, right?”

The druid looked between the two of them, then to Galatea, and once again to Astarion before replying “Well, during my time in the Underdark, I never saw what you described happen, though the…metaphors of spiderwebs were constant.”

That seemed to distract Astarion, as he urged Halsin to talk more of his previous experiences. Meanwhile, Galatea turned to Minthara, brushing a strand of white hair from her face, and placing it behind the drow’s ear.

“I am a bit jealous that I wouldn’t be the first to fall in your web.” She whispered in her ear.

“There is no need for that.” Minthara turned towards her, a half smirk on her face. “If that were the case, you’d enjoy a much more privileged position.”

Galatea raised a brow. “Oh? And where would that be?”

Minthara didn’t reply, only moving out of the table and motioning for the tiefling to follow along. She quickly excused herself before holding the drow’s hands, the two moving upstairs to their room.

But the two wouldn’t be the only ones sharing a night of passion, as after all had gone to sleep, Astarion and Halsin, having spent the rest of the time there sharing their thoughts of one another, would sneak off, only returning when daylight came.

#minthara bg3 #minthara x tav #minthara x oc #mint tea #minthara #minthara baenre #oc: galatea #minthara x galatea #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #halsin bg3 #SOME MINOR HALSTARION OK #BUT THEY AIN'T THE MAIN THING #my writing #bg3 fanfiction

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curufiin · 3 days

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After confronting Finrod about his indecency, Curufin finds himself seeking the comfort of Celegorm. However, he struggles to find the pity he is chasing.

gen / 1.6k / referenced celegorome and finrod/beör / curufin is a little racist lol just a headsup

Based on this fic. Also on AO3

In the dim halls, lit with crystal lamps and candle flames, Curufin’s footsteps echoed and built to an uncomfortable volume. Each tap of his soles against the stone floor were like the slamming of doors, and every breath he drew felt heavy, his lungs constricted by the cage that was his own ribs.

His chest ached. He wandered with no real aim, other than to ignore how desperately he wanted to rip open his own flesh, pull out his heart, and cast it to the ground.

Someone who was once dear to my heart. And who no longer counts among the living.

His mind repeated that line, over and over and over, and Curufin was almost convinced that it has been permanently etched into the very folds of his brain. Who did that filthy Secondborn think they were, to think they were even worthy of Finrod’s approval? Why would Findaráto Ingoldo, most fair and wise of their lineage, even think such profane union to be appropriate? Was his own decency truly worth this little?

Curufin swallowed a mouthful of self pity. A Secondborn, who Finrod held dearer to his heart than a prince of the Noldor. A Secondborn, who could better please Finrod than he, who Finrod loved more than he. For everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed for Finrod, none of it mattered.

As he stumbled towards Celegorm’s door, Curufin found himself gasping for breath.

The door swung open, and the sight of Celegorm lazing on his bed with not a care in the world no longer roused even annoyance from Curufin. In fact, he envied him to some extent— even if it was an utter embarrassment for the once third prince of the Noldor, Curufin would still give a lot to not be troubled by petty jealousies and outdoing competitors that were long since dead.

“I thought I asked you to knock,” Celegorm complained.

Curufin ignored him. He kicked off his shoes, and threw himself onto the bed with little more than a grunt.

For all the effort his brother put into keeping up his pristine image of an unfaltering will, endless devotion to their late father, and a tenacity that would scare most commoners, Celegorm found his little brother pitifully easy to read. He always had obvious tells, even if he was quick to deny them: furrowed brows, the subtle twitch of his eyes, how his frown was ever so slightly more pronounced than usual. And whereas Curufin loved to boast about his achievements, he had an unusual loathing for speaking of his troubles.

Celegorm sighed, and tried again. “What’s the matter now? Love trouble again? Or has Celebrimbor questioned the Oath and-“

“Have you taken anyone else to bed beside me?”

Stunned silence grew between them, and Celegorm found himself filled with a strange sense of unease. Curufin was never the direct type, no. He preferred to prod away with vague questions, slowly easing the conversation in the direction he wanted until whatever answer he chased could be gathered without ever needing to reveal what he wanted to ask or why.

Still, he was not keen to reveal his concern, real as it was. Since their father’s passing, each time he would try to comfort his brother, Curufin would push back, whether it be needless hostility or bottling up his emotions. No matter how he tried to approach, directly or indirectly, with sympathy or irritation, it always ended the same: Curufin would become more upset, and Celegorm would end up almost snapping at him.

“Yeah,” Celegorm replied with feigned nonchalance. He had never been one to hide his various affairs, and it was not as if his brother did not know that; Curufin made it painfully clear on several occasions, with harsh reprimands and even multiple accounts of ignoring or chastising his advances, that he disapproved. “And you know that I have. Why are you asking?”

“Because,” his brother said, curling beneath the blanket. Celegorm raised his eyebrows.

In his mind, he ran through the list of things that his brother often got upset about. Finrod not giving him the attention he so often demanded, him not giving his brother the attention he equally often demanded, him feeling inadequate due to some new nonsensical thing that his mind had decided about himself, or some combination of the three. Seeing that lately, Curufin had decided he would rather leave him to his own vicious mind in pursuit of Finrod’s oh-so-glorious hole, Celegorm decided the most likely options were the first and the third.

“Because?” He prodded further, and was again met with silence from the other.

Long had he grown used to their little game now. Curufin would make it much too obvious that he was upset, Celegorm would investigate, and Curufin would evade. But as with all games, they would eventually end, and he had no doubt that eventually, Curufin would tire and reveal his intentions. All he needed was patience.

“Hold me,” his brother commanded, and Celegorm wordlessly obeyed. He pulled Curufin into an embrace, from behind as he always preferred, hands wrapping around his waist and his chin nestling between Curufin’s neck and shoulders. Naught was spoken between them for a long while, and with Curufin’s motionless form, he had almost thought that his brother had fallen asleep.

“Felagund laid with a Secondcomer,” Curufin said abruptly.

This cannot be what Curufin is upset about, Celegorm thought. It was the Secondcomers’ nature to be but a fleeting presence upon Arda, forgotten as quickly as they had come. And Finrod had his fair share of past lovers as well: a dalliance here, a tryst there. A doomed romance with Amarië, rumors of some intrigue with Turgon, and now the new lapdog of his brother. Adding a Man to the mix did not seem that strange. “Oh?”

“It’s strange. Improper.” In his arms, Curufin squirmed, sighing forcefully. “He is a lord, the first heir of his father’s house. He should not be indulging in such irreverent relationships, especially not with one not of his kind.”

Discomfort gripped Celegorm’s chest, his heart contorting within his chest as he pondered his brother’s strange declarations. It was painfully obvious, with Curufin’s similar remarks towards his own past relationships, that this was about more than simply what is appropriate for a relationship. His brother’s reactions were uncannily alike when he first discovered the night he and Oromë shared— the waspish attitude, his irritatingly pious words, his sulking. Even a fool could smell the foul odor of jealousy that reeked from Curufin’s mouth.

Celegorm hummed. “You seem strangely concerned with relationships that don’t involve you.”

“Tyelkormo.” Curufin’s tone darkened, but it did nothing to deter him.

“Is it truly as improper as you claim, brother?” He held back a chuckle. “I’ve laid with Lord Oromë, as you know. He seemed to take no issue with our dissimilarities. If the High Powers deem no inappropriateness between the relation of Vala and Elf, then what issue do you see with our dear cousin and his Man pet?”

Silence filled the room, and Celegorm was certain if he could see his brother’s face, he would find a storm brewing in those dark eyes. Even at a young age, Curufin oft complained of the hours he spent by his lonesome, not due to a lack of friendships, reluctant as he was to form new connections. Instead, he spoke of not being prioritized, of being chosen because there were no better options. He lamented days gone by where Finrod would not spend agonizingly long hours with Turgon, bemoaned the crafting of the Silmarils in private despite the prideful mask he wore.

Reflexively, Curufin tore himself away from Celegorm’s arms, sitting up in the bed with his back still turned against the other.

“Where are you going?” Celegorm asked.

“To bed.”

Despite all efforts to seem indifferent, his brother’s snappy response betrayed his true feelings. And really, Celegorm had to commend him for trying this hard to pretend he did not care. “Because you don’t like the answer I gave you?” He smirked, even if Curufin would not see it.

Curufin scowled, and remained silent.

“Oh, lighten up, brother,” with a sigh, Celegorm rolled onto his back. “It’s not as if being Findaráto’s secomd favorite darling is really an issue. The Man’s dead, you’re not. I don’t see what you’re griping about.”

“No, of course you don’t.” The other’s voice had dropped to barely above a sorrowful murmur as he stood, gazing intently at the door. “How can you understand, when you are the object of a Vala’s affection? When he showers gifts upon you, lathers praise upon you like honey, when in his eyes, you are more perfect than the very world he’s built?”

Celegorm, for what felt like the first time in his life, was left grasping for words, opening his mouth to protest before closing it again. “No I’m not-“

“Don’t you deny it.” Every word that shot out of his mouth was like an accusation, and as Curufin finally turned to face him, he could finally see the tempest that had brewed in the other’s eyes. “You’re Oromë’s special little plaything, aren’t you? I’ve seen how he looks at you, I’ve seen how his hands linger too long at your sides, Tyelkormo. He loved you. He loved you like you were Arda itself.” As he spoke, he blinked angrily, trying to will away the growing dampness in his eyes and ignore the ache that gripped his chest, how his throat threatened to close up with every second that passed.

“I wish I had it as good as you do,” he continued, barely able to choke down a sob that rattled his whole body. “I wish I was something. Anything.”

Before he could continue, he broke into tears, overwhelmed by the torrent of rage and despair that consumed him like an avalanche. “Forget it,” he said, turning then and rushing to the door without another word, and ran, leaving Celegorm to only the echoes of his sobs.

Curufin collapsed onto his bed, and he wept.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion #celegorm #curufin #silm fic #writing #tw racism #he’s such a little bitch. also read the inspired fic first

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prismuffin · 1 year

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Hunter Sylvester with a Stoner S/o

A/n: Gender Neutral Reader!! Gonna give my boy Hunter sum love😽

Warnings?: mentions of drugs and drug use!!

!-!more under the cut!-!

Pre-Relationship:

—Ok first off, let’s just set the record here, Hunter is not by any means a stoner. He’s never tried weed in his life! Though at first glance you might think otherwise.

—Hunter had a crush on you first, he noticed you in the back of some of his classes. You always seemed to be off in your own world, chuckling at nothing and smiling at the wall.

—attempted to strike up a conversation with you on many occasions but he always chickened out.

—After the battle of the bands he gained some popularity around school, not much sure, but enough to boost his confidence to talk to you.

—He was genuinely shocked when you said yes to his date offer, honestly he totally expected you to deny him.

—You’d mentioned to Hunter that you smoked after he asked why you were always “in your head all the time”.

—^You didn’t think before you said it and got worried right after that he’d lose interest in you because of it, but luckily he was fine with it and it didn’t change his feelings much.

Relationship Tingz:

—Look, Hunters fine with you smoking weed and stuff just don’t do it around him or in his house.

—^Also don’t try and get him to try it, he won’t.

—If you insist on him smoking with you he’ll end up feeling very pressured, especially if you act a little hostile with him when he denies you. He ends up going to Kevin and asking what he should do about it one day when they were hanging out in his basement. Kevin had told him that he shouldn’t do anything he was uncomfortable with and that he should probably talk to you about it, so he does.

—Tells you how pressured he feels whenever you ask him to smoke with you and hopes you stop.

—^If you do stop and apologize he’s so glad you care enough to listen to him, honestly he falls for you even more just knowing that you respect his boundaries.

—^^If you don’t stop he’ll obviously be pretty hurt about it and will probably distance himself from you for a while. When you ask why he’s so distant he’ll tell you the reason and you better apologize to him and stop! >:(

—Loves how cuddly you get when you’re high like he finds it so cute.

—He will always respond to your random questions with full seriousness just to mess with you. Every time it happens you’re just sitting on his bed silently before shooting up and asking him something like, “are there really more nipples in the world than there are people?” And he just nods while holding back a laugh. “Uhuh and they’re slowly taking over the earth.” He stares you dead in the eyes as he says this and watches as yours grow wide “no way?!” “Way.”

—You got the munchies? He’s totally down to stop at the nearest gas station to stock up on snacks.

—Doesn’t mind baking/cooking with you while you’re high, though he mostly does it to make sure you don’t burn down the kitchen.

—When you get too high or when your trip is just bad in general he’ll do whatever he can to nullify the effect for you. He hates seeing you on the verge of tears as you become overwhelmed because of the weed. He’s totally looked up ways to help you whenever you’re in this situation. Every time this happens to you he always says, “maybe you should start cutting back a bit hun.” while rubbing your back.

—If you’re struggling with addiction and want to quit/go to rehab he’s totally there for you. If you don’t want to go to rehab and want to attempt to quit on your own he’ll help you regulate a slow way to come down and will keep you on track. If he catches you high when you’re trying to quit, he’s not mad, he’s just disappointed and will ask you what made you relapse

—If you do go to rehab he’ll visit you everyday after school and will once again cheer you on in your road to being sober.

—If you ever get so high you’re basically unresponsive (like when your eyes really squinted and your movements are really slow) he can get very worried, though it mostly melts away once you give him a slow smile after recognizing him (despite you staring at him for like five minutes prior.)

—One time you bitch slapped him and basically shoved your fingers down his throat when you walked in on him eating one of your edibles. He was so confused, and a little hurt, until you explained. (He thinks it's cute that you're so worried.)

—Overall, he loves his stoner partner and sees absolutely nothing wrong with you! Does he sometimes wish you’d cut back on the weed? Sure, but in the end it’s not his call to make and he can live with it.

----!----

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN but you can still send me messages to see if I'm close to opening them again!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#hunter sylvester #metal lords #hunter sylvester x reader #metal lords x reader #netflix metal lords #Hunter sylvester x gn reader #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #Hunter Sylvester x stoner reader #stoner reader #prismuffin

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dee-in-the-box · 6 months

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wanted to make this into a comic. don't have the patience right now, but i might eventually. for now, have some of Charlie's backstory in the form of dialogue she'd have with Jack :]

(small warning for implied suicide towards the end)

"You said you had a brother. What happened to him?"

"My...brother? Oh...right. I did mention that, huh?

Well, I had a twin brother. Sammy. He was my other half for the first four years of my life. We were practically attached at the hip most of the time.

Dad usually took us over to Freddy's or Fredbear's on weekends, given that we loved the place. And were energetic four-year-olds. But he'd also take us when he had to work there on some days.

*sigh* ....July 19th, 1974. It was supposed to be a regular work day for Dad. It was supposed to be a regular day for us.

Dad greeted Dr. Miller and Mr. Afton like he normally did. He let us loose to do whatever it was we did while he worked. We ran around, watched the robots, played- y'know, normal four-year-old stuff.

Well...we were playing in one of the party rooms by ourselves. Just laughing, enjoying ourselves....it was perfect.

Until...he came in."

"..."He?" Who-?"

"Henry. Fucking. Miller.

He came up to us, asked if we were doing alright. We talked a bit for a few minutes...but then he said that he wanted to show us something. What our Dad worked on all day.

At first, we were hesitant. Dad always told us not to get too close to the robots, that they were dangerous. But he told us it would be fine, that he'd make sure nothing bad would happen to us. That reassured us enough, and Sammy got up to follow him.

He picked Sammy up, saying he could only pick one of us up at a time. I got upset; I mean, I might've been four, but I could still walk. He just brushed me off, saying that he'd come back for me in a few minutes, and that he'd bring me to the Saferoom after he got Sammy settled down.

(which, might I add, was an impossible task unless you were me, Mom, or Dad.)

So he picked Sammy up, I waved bye to him, and he left me alone in that room.

...That...that was the last time I saw Sammy...

Dad came in a few minutes later, looking for us. I told him that Miller had taken Sammy to go see the robots and had promised to come back. He seemed relieved for a minute.

I don't know why exactly he didn't just take me to go find them. Maybe he just wanted to go check up on them or something. All I remember is that he left me with Mr. Afton, just with the instruction to keep an eye on me until he got back.

Heh. Dad always was a bit overprotective of us...

I sat with Afton for a bit, we had some conversation about something or other, and I gave him stickers. Also learned what orphans were. It was interesting, alright.

Out of nowhere, Dad stormed back in, and he called Miller a "Sick Fuck." He just picked me up, and started to head for the door. I kept asking where Sammy was. That pink bitch said that he was "hiding." (Tch, more like he hid his body...)

All I knew at the time was that we were leaving. Without Sammy.

Dad never let me go to Freddy's or Fredbear's on my own without him constantly keeping an eye on me. He'd never speak to Miller with anything other than pure aggression and hostility. I didn't understand why, then.

For four years, I thought that Sammy was hiding in the restaurant, just waiting for me to find him. I snuck out so many times to try and go look for him. Funny thing is....I'd always run into this shadowy dog.

Cutest little thing; had a little hat and bowtie. He'd never let me get too close to the restaurant, let alone in it. He'd always lead me home. He'd make sure I went to bed before he left. Good Boy, honestly.

I never felt the same after Sammy died. Yeah, I said it: died. My brother isn't just missing, he's dead. Let's not kid ourselves here...Anyway, I always felt wrong. Incomplete. It was like there was always something missing.

...I think a part of me died alongside Sammy that day."

"Tell me more about your dad."

"My dad...he was a wonderful man. Loved us to death. A bit overprotective, and a nervous wreck at times, but he was the greatest, and I accept no criticism on that.

He...never was quite the same after what happened to Sammy.

He'd never let me out of his sight when he took me to Freddy's or Fredbear's. I'd always be stuck with him as he worked on robots, never letting me stray too far.

(*sigh* Guess he just didn't want to have a repeat of what happened with Sammy...)

Where do you think I learned all of my Technician Skills from? Learned 'em from the best!

He was always viewed as one of the greatest technicians at Freddy's, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

The first time he ever let me go to Fredbear's without him since Sammy....y'know...was when he let me go to Cass' 13th birthday.

...Under the condition that they stayed with me the whole time, and made sure nothing bad happened. Sure, call him paranoid, but...can you really blame him?

I wish Dad were still around...for all I know, he'd lose his shit if he knew what I was doing nowadays...miss him a lot, man..."

"Wait, what happened to your dad?"

"What happened to him? Well...let's put it this way: I...I don't think he was able to handle the grief anymore. And I guess that, by December of '82, he'd finally reached his breaking point.

...Let's leave it at that, please..."

#dsaf au #dsaf #Dayshift!Charlie #she has been through. So Much Shit #like. she lost TWO people she was close to while growing up #and she never even really got CLOSURE for one of them!! nobody in her family got closure for Sammy's death!!#just. Dayshift!Charlie my beloved she needs so much therapy

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liltaz-asatreat · 2 years

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5, 6, 7, and 10 for Meadow? :D

OC question list here!! <- send some in? :D

So this got really long because I never know when to shut up, so I'm putting this under a readmore lol

(Also, I explained some stuff in detail that I've already told you for the benefit of anyone else who might read this lol)

5. What are their regrets?

There's a lot of things Meadow regrets on a daily basis lol But there are quite a few long lasting big ones. Like the obvious enacting the Relic plan, not listening to Lucretia, and not being able to save Phandalin. Then there's two things he regrets from childhood: not running away from home sooner and simultaneously leaving his then six year old cousin whom he was pretty close to. He also regrets spending so much time fighting with himself during the decade post voidfishing and the fact that he was only able to get very little done and caused himself a lot more stress and heartache than was strictly necessary. And the fact that he can't just turn off his brain and go to sleep to escape his thoughts like other people can unless one of his bodies dies. And there's two things that happen during the fic that he comes to regret doing and/or not doing, but those are spoilers >:)

And then the two really big ones is the defining backstory moment of coming across the Word Weaver's Amulet (the Grand Relic they made) and giving it to Astra, their then best friend who I still haven't decided if they're just best friends or if there were romantic feelings involved. Every time I think I've decided on one, I end up changing my mind again, but regardless, they were really close. And Astra said she thought it was beautiful and really wanted it, and when they both came across it, they had been going on a walk to try and cheer Astra up and get her to clear her head because she was having a really bad day, so Meadow, famously unable to say no to anything even though they had the gut feeling that something bad was going to happen, gave it to her. The fallout of how she used the Relic and what exactly transpired is a spoiler, but she definitely dies which is how Meadow ended up with it again, and they've regretted everything ever since.

The second big one is, because during the Stolen Century, they were able to save Meadow's body from the Plane of Logic from the Hunger, and both of his bodies were on the ship for the rest of the century and until Lucretia dropped his Logic Body off in the Faerun's reality's Plane of Logic, Meadow was always up in one body or the other, by nature of that's just how he works, so he was awake when Lup was about to leave the Starblaster for the final time before she disappeared. He saw her before she left, and they had a short conversation where Meadow knew something was wrong, and he thought he helped her to feel better, which in all fairness, he did a little, but Lup still wanted to have some alone time and clear her head down on the planet and then everything that happened afterward happened. So Meadow regrets not stopping her from leaving or at least not going down to the surface with her.

And tbh, because of Meadow being awake 24/7, they had taken it upon themself/was designated to be the person on watch at night throughout the century after both of their bodies were on the ship because all of the others needed sleep and didn't have a fancy shmancy second body to be awake in after going to bed. So because they were up and because they had talked to Lup before she left, Taako mostly, but Barry too to an extent, kind of blamed them for her disappearance. Barry would never say it out loud, but I feel like Taako might have snapped at them once about it, but like, Meadow knew. At that point, they had known them for long enough that they could tell for sure it wasn't just their brain being mean and jumping to conclusions, they were acting a little hostile toward them toward the end there.

6. What are their biggest fears?

Everything lol They're a big ball of anxiety and stress-

No. Well, they are a big ball of anxiety and stress and are a very fearful person, but they aren't afraid of everything.

They are, ironically, very afraid of heights lol The only reason they agreed to go on the Starblaster mission was because they couldn't pass up the opportunity to go to space and explore the space between the planes and do all of that cool stuff. As soon as the opportunity came up, that was basically all they wanted to do and the thing they wanted to get most out of life because they love the stars and space and exploring and everything about it! And how they figured they could get around the height issue was that they could just stay away from the railing and stay toward the center of the ship, and maybe if there wasn't a ground or a metric in which to gauge how high up he'd be, he would be fine.

I think during the century he learned how to push past it mostly out of necessity, but by the time they made it to Faerun, and Material Meadow lost his memories, his issue with heights hit him full force again tenfold, and he has to fight to remain calm while traveling in the cannonball spheres and looking down from the moon base and all that lol

Then, of course, he has a normally paralyzing fear of failure that he has to push through to get literally anything done in the story and honestly, during the century.

And then they never had a good working memory before the voidfishing, so they already hated the idea of losing any more memories. The voidfishing exasperated that into a full blown near phobia of losing memories, especially really important ones.

And then there's the fear of losing everyone and everything permanently and the fear that everyone is going to leave him, especially for reasons they refuse to tell him, so he wouldn't understand why they decided to leave him in the first place.

And then there's the double related fears: Falling asleep while they're in danger because someone decided to wake them up on the other side, especially if they refuse to let them go back to sleep, and someone finding out about them having a double and attacking him or leaving him or ostracizing him because they either don't believe him, refuse to take it seriously, or outright hate him for it

7. How do they cope with stress?

LOL

List making! Mental breakdowns! But mostly they write. Poetry for the most part is their form of journaling, but sometimes they just write out their thoughts too. If they have an idea for a short story, they'll work on that too as usually a more maintenance kind of thing and not something they'd do in the moment of feeling very overwhelmed, and they never really have the time to try and write a whole novel or something. At least, for the most part they didn't. There was that short period of time during the decade where they were at the writing guild Lucretia sent them to in the Material Plane, the Ink Spill Guild, where they had the time to work on a novel because they were ignoring the instructions they were leaving for themself that they made when they actually remembered everything. And they might have been working on a novel, idk. Sounds fun and very much something I would do lol But after that, Meadow spent most of their time adventuring, and then when they got up to the moon base, trying to figure out where the second voidfish was and what the plan was going to be then now that they found Lucretia.

As for when they're in the Plane of Logic though, they didn't give themself as much time to write because they were struggling so hard to get their spaceship built and off the ground, both in the physical aspect of actually researching it and doing it and also fighting the paralysis they usually get when they get super stressed and scared/anxious about something. And the whole possibly being the only one of their family who remembers anything besides Lucretia, but only when they're on a plane where they can't really do much about it, and that means they might be the only person with a chance of stopping Lucretia from destroying the Material Plane and putting their family back together thing is kind of really stressful lol

To compensate for that, Meadow throws himself full force into building the spaceship when he's particularly stressed because it's something to do with his hands and is something that is supposed to get him closer to reaching his goal. Sometimes if they're stuck on how to do something to actually continue building onto the ship but can't focus on reading and researching or even thinking really hard, they take apart and put back together some other component that doesn't really need fixing.

He also sometimes lets Sparrow and their friends forcibly drag him away to hang out with them, and that makes him feel better and less alone. Also eventually talking to Barry helps even if when he does it, he doesn't remember their shared history, and Barry can't tell him anything about it yet, and also hanging out with Merle, Magnus, and Taako.

Back on the Starblaster, Taako and Lup also brought them into learning how to bake :>

And then when things are really shitty, sometimes they dissociate and just check out completely. On top of that, sometimes it'll happen as they are in an immediate stressful situation, especially if they're trying to talk to someone, much to their extreme annoyance because it's really hard to fight it off and come back to reality. They very rarely ever succeed at it.

10. Who is someone they miss?

Astra and Lup definitely, and Lucretia and Davenport and all of them. Even when he joins the Bureau and sees most of them again, he misses how their relationships with each other used to be and the fact that none of them, including him while he's actually physically there with them remember except for Barry and Lucretia. It's this weird feeling of simultaneously being super happy to see them while also still feeling very far away and disconnected when he's awake in the Plane of Logic because he's no longer there and he remembers Davenport being able to talk and Lucretia not holding them all at arm's length and lying to them all the time and being able to hug Barry and Lup being there and the other boys sharing almost everything and all of them being a family. He's able to enjoy being in their presence more, for the most part, while he's there and with them because he doesn't remember the history, but that just makes him miss them more when he wakes up and does remember.

They also really miss Fisher, and while they hang out with it and Johann sometimes, it's still not the same. Both because of the memory thing and also because, while it's Lucretia's fault for erasing everyone's memories, Fisher still had the power to do that, and it didn't broadcast it out after realizing no one could remember and that everyone was gone. So there's also a certain level of wariness and fear I think

And then they do miss their parents to an extent. I mean, they're their parents. And there were good times with them while they were growing up. And they also really miss their cousin that they were close to.

Also, even though Meadow is a self insert and I have siblings, I decided against giving Meadow siblings because, well, not only does Meadow run away from home and leave everyone behind when he's 14, but like, the Hunger and the end of the world happened, and it felt really gross and wrong to be like, yeah! Meadow is me and also all of his siblings died tragically during the apocalypse. I just can't do that. But! I needed a child relative substitute that Meadow would have been close to because an event that happens about them is the catalyst of Meadow finally deciding to run away. I felt like having them be a cousin was enough degree of separation for me to be more comfortable with especially since the event is probably only going to be referenced in a passing one sentence comment, if that, during the Chalice scene. So that's why the cousin exists

#thank you for sending this in; Sunny! :D #and also just a little extra ramble about a personal thing I guess:#the conceit of any of this story happening and Meadow leading the life that they do and did is basically; what if I had actually chosen to #run away at 14; and not only that; but succeed and *live*?#and also; of course; this was the world of taz balance; and the whole double thing #I like where I am now in life mostly; but tbh #that one moment I almost did it; that's my biggest what if #I don't regret not doing it because of where I am today; but like; sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been #ask game #double troubles

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wiseabsol · 2 years

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I saw that you posted the long awaited review/commentary to Chapter 16 of Dominion, fantastic insight as always. It reminded me to ask; what lines, quotes or passages in Dominion really stood out to you and for what reasons? For a fic of its quality, depth and intelligence, there are many that stood out to me that I have highlighted and saved.

Oh goodness. I've had this sitting in my inbox for a while, because the fic is 385k at present, so where do I even start with answering this? Since I'm going to be reviewing every chapter of the fic and talking about the passages that stand out to me in depth, I think I'll use this ask to highlight my favorite moments from the story instead.

From Chapter 4:

The Fire Prince woke to the rustling of paper.

He raised a heavy hand to his face, joints screaming in protest at the movement, and felt something soft and yielding there. Without thinking, he tugged at the cloth. A book snapped shut off to his right.

"Don't play with it, dumdum. It's there for a reason," a familiar voice reproved him. His scalp prickled oddly.

"Azula?" he tried to say, but all that came out was "Ughn-ah?"

"You know, it's stimulating conversation like this that I think I'll miss the most," she sighed insincerely.

Zuko blinked a bleary eye in the soft lamplight. He was not sure what had happened to the other one, or what she was talking about, but knowing Azula, he would find out when she wanted him to, and no sooner.

She sat up from where she'd been reclining to his right, in what Zuko now realized was the palace infirmary, and laid the leather bound book she was reading on the elegantly carved end table between their beds. This also held a tall glass lamp, a few jars and bottles containing unidentified substances, and two white rags, neatly folded atop one another.

[ . . . ]

And Zuko stopped with one glimpse at the characters on the cover, missing his chance when Azula walked out. He eased the leather bound book into his lap, running his index finger over the title. Three Generations of Searching, An Imperial History of the Hunt for the Avatar. Slowly, a little uncertainly, he turned the pages, and began to read…

And kept reading well into the night. And demanded more books from the royal library when he'd thoroughly examined the first. It never occurred to him to wonder why the servants obeyed him so readily in this, when they balked at most other commands from the newly disgraced prince.

It didn't matter. He had a purpose to fulfill, and he would return home with honor. He didn't need Azula's luck, he had his determination. He would use every resource at his disposal.

And it would be enough. It had to be.

I really enjoy the scene of Azula being the first one Zuko sees and talks to after the Agni Kai with his father. Zuko spends the entire conversation being hostile to his sister, never realizing that she is trying to help him by A.) changing his bandages for him, B.) explaining what he did wrong in their father's eyes, and C.) giving him access to the books that will help him with his search for the Avatar. He never makes the connection that the servants are acting under Azula's orders to give him these books, rather than obeying him.

From the same chapter:

"Are you honestly unaware that she brought down the walls of the Impenetrable City?" General How of their Council of Five butt in, stooping to prop hard-knuckled fists belligerently on the table.

"You with your walls," Pakku sighed, not even needing to roll his eyes when his voice did that for him. "You do realize you can rebuild them just as easily as we?" He indicated his fellow Water Tribe delegates.

"The walls aren't the point!" the general hissed, growing red in the face.

"No, the point is, you'll never live it down," General Shinu stood to add, one of several representatives from court that Zuko had invited, merely so it might not be said he was unilaterally signing away his country's resources to foreigners. And he was regretting it more by the minute.

"What rankles more, General? That you were bested by the Fire Nation, or that you were bested by a fourteen year old girl?" The grizzled Shinu smiled mirthlessly, to a snort of derision from one of his colleagues. "She was not the most serious of our offenders, only the most successful.

"We all know that's the real reason you're demanding her head on a pike, when the Six Hundred Day Siege killed more men on both sides than her bloodless coup could ever account for. And yet, I don't hear any of you proposing that the Dragon of the West be brought from whatever obscurity he vanished to to face prosecution."

I love this bit because it exposes why the Earth Kingdom's plot against Azula is so petty and steeped in sexism. They want her dead to soothe their pride, rather than because she committed any actual war crimes.

From Chapter 6:

"Love you, bye," Lu Ten echoed absently, familiar enough with this sentiment to have learned to repeat it. He tried picking up the sand, only for it to slip through his fingers.

But even those innocent words gave Zuko pause, looking down on the black-haired head bent over the sand. Was that really how Lu Ten would remember his father? As someone who was always leaving about some official business? The Fire Lord heaved a quiet sigh.

This is a small moment, but it's indicative of how distant Zuko is from his son. Contrasting this against Zuko's longing for his daughter later paints a strange, sad picture.

From Chapter 7:

He barely had time to register this, his hand still gripped her hot and blistered skin, when Azula pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. Zuko went absolutely still, his face frozen in surprise even if he didn't let her go. His stomach lurched like he stepped off the edge of a precipice, fallen into the gap between who he was before she did this, and now. He still stood in that attitude when her free hand slid under the crossed collar of his crimson shirt.

[ . . . ]

"Now you've taken everything from me," she whispered harshly. "Is it enough? Will it ever be?"

"Never," Zuko breathed. A reply more articulate perhaps, but no less unthinking than any other she compelled from him tonight.

I'm not going to go into detail with this chapter, given its contents, but this tipping point and exchange always stand out to me. Azula's dialogue in this scene is also extremely telling, since it's clear that she's repeating what Ozai said to her.

From Chapter 8:

That was why Azula didn’t try to run or even make a sound when she felt its approach in the darkness, or when it knelt beside her. There was nowhere she could run from this. She knew that now. It lived inside her, and it wouldn’t stop until she made it.

Its soft arms closed around her shoulders, with none of the tension Azula always felt in the real Ursa, when she was obligated to either hug her daughter, or admit she didn’t want to. Even if she chose the first, Azula knew. She always knew. It laid its head against her sopping hair.

“Happy birthday,” it whispered.

And Azula started to cry.

This guts me every time. Worst birthday ever.

From Chapter 9:

Zuko ran to her with his heart in his throat, seizing her arm in his urgency. "Mom, please! We have to help her!"

But Ursa just watched the girl shiver and bleed in the eerie blue light of her flames. And looking down on Azula, her whole aspect harshened, until the slant of her eyes grew still crueler, the line of her jaw more pointed. Until she wore Azula's face, as she appeared that night they — that night he found her.

Her flame headpiece gleamed a sickly green in the dying light of the hall. And whatever she was now said slowly, "Her own mother, thought she was a monster." She turned her head to regard Zuko. And his plea died when horror rose to choke it like bile in his throat. "There's no helping someone like her," the amalgam spoke with all the gentle melancholy of Ursa.

But she wasn't his mother. He didn't even know what she was.

"No…" Zuko whispered brokenly. He couldn't believe that. He started almost compulsively toward the bleeding Azula, the one he still knew as his sister. But the other stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, and knelt beside Zuko. She grasped his shoulders in clawlike hands, as if to pull him away from the sight when Azula twitched once and went still, forever.

But he couldn't tear his eyes away. Her left hand stroked his cheek. "Remember this, Zuko." Her voice was low and almost seductive, her breath hot in his ear. He shook a little when she leaned her head close to whisper, "No matter how she may seem to change, never forget what she is."

She's dead. She's dead. I let her die. Hot tears drew salted tracks down his cheeks. What else is there for her to be?

This is very creepy. The "never forget what she is" is so dehumanizing to Azula, and it coming from not!Ursa's mouth makes it even worse. Zuko's following dream about having an Agni Kai with Azula, in which everyone he loves turns on him, is also harrowing. Iroh's "what's your excuse?" hits hard.

From the same chapter:

"We d— we had sex," he spoke painfully into the silence, and there was nothing left to say.

A scowl cut his father's brow. Zuko could practically feel his wrath gather like the charge before a lightning bolt. "You raped her," Ozai corrected flatly.

"NO!" Zuko paled and fell a quick step back, as if that word were a physical blow. "I never would have done it if she hadn't kissed me first —"

"Idiot boy!" His rebuke fell like a clap of thunder. "You think I trained her to bed so she could whore herself to you?!"

Zuko froze. His eyes fixed on his father in shock, as the implication unfolded to him. "What?" he whispered. And Ozai's face fell when he realized his mistake.

"You WHAT?!" Zuko exploded, seizing the bars with such violence that his father actually retreated to the back of his cell. "You sick fuck, what did you do?!"

"I trained her," Ozai repeated slowly, holding his white hands out at his sides as if to back away from a rabid animal. "To extract information, exact promises … and kill especially sensitive targets." His bearded lip curled with scorn, despite his caution. "So imagine my surprise, to see you still among the living."

And Zuko remembered daggers of flame in her hands, when he overpowered her. She meant to do — she was trying to kill him.

"Most men would see her sex as a weakness," his father explained, with a zeal that was truly disturbing. "They would be wrong. I trained her to use it as a weapon."

He sounded proud — proud — of what he did. And Zuko felt almost lightheaded, as if there were not enough air in the room to support the fire of his rage. What did he do to her? What did he do?

"How did you train her?" He fixed Zuko with a hateful look, but said nothing. "How?!"

"You dare pretend you have any right," Ozai spoke slowly, deliberately, "to make demands of me? When you did the same —"

"She wasn't my daughter!" Zuko screamed, voice breaking when his last hope of denial shattered. He gripped the bars so hard his arms ached, but he barely felt it. Because he knew now he knew just what their father did to her. When you did the same…

This is horrific. Ozai is the worst!

From Chapter 10:

And Iroh remembered that he had been just the same as a child, never clinging to falsehoods as most children would when caught in a lie, but admitting ugly truths with a studied disdain. As if lying were a game he chose not to play anymore, because it had lost its fun. A stale joke not worth examining further, and wasn't the other person a fool for paying any mind to it?

Iroh should have realized a long time ago that there was something really wrong with him. Iroh should have known that he could never be trusted with a child — any child — even one so obviously suited to him as Azula.

Especially one so obviously suited to him as Azula.

Ozai was speaking again, and all he wanted to do was walk out of the chill darkness of this cell and forget he ever had a brother. But Iroh forced himself to listen. He owed his niece that much, he told himself. Even if his knowing would avail her nothing now.

"It's over. I'm in prison," Ozai stated bitterly, brows forked in a scowl. "Azula will spend the rest of her life drugged in an asylum. So what remedy, you old fool?"

"I could tell Zuko what you did," Iroh put forth, so quietly he wondered if his brother would even hear him.

Ozai snorted with contempt. "Because his good opinion means so much to me."

"He would have you killed," Iroh concluded gravely, ignoring the interruption.

"For the sake of a sibling he hates?"

Iroh just looked at him in the closest thing to pity he could muster. It would be beyond the comprehension of someone like Ozai how Zuko could love a person he had every reason to hate. But his sparing Azula and seeking her recovery were proof enough of that for Iroh.

Ozai turned a tight-lipped smile on him, as if guessing the train of his thoughts. "You overestimate his care for Azula. He only likes to think he loves her. To convince himself he is better than her, better than me," he gestured to himself, "a noble and compassionate Lord.

"But if she ever recovered to threaten his precious peace," Ozai inclined his head to lend weight to his words, his eyes glaring fiercely beneath sharp brows, "if he ever got the chance to pay her back without guilt, or risk of public censure … well then, you would see his true heart…"

This is such good characterization for Ozai. Ozai’s assertion about Zuko is accurate, too, which Iroh can’t see because of how he’s built Zuko up in his head.

From the same chapter:

His nephew grimaced and made to turn away, but Iroh grabbed his shoulder, holding him fast. "You must never give in to despair," he said urgently, when Zuko reached up to cover his own eyes, crying silently. "Allow yourself to slip down that road, and you surrender to your lowest instincts —"

"I already did."

Iroh stopped when Zuko said this. Zuko stopped when he realized he said this, and sat up on his knees. His red eyes darted to Iroh's face in breathless horror, like he expected his uncle to turn from him as from some hideous deformity. When Iroh didn't, any reserve he had left crumbled, and Zuko looked on him in torment.

"Oh gods," he choked out, reaching for Iroh as helplessly as a blind man groping in the dark. And when his uncle reached back to steady him, he grabbed the old man in a clumsy embrace, clutched the back of Iroh's robe, and buried his face in his shoulder.

"Everything I do just makes it worse!" his nephew wept, voice muffled by the fabric of Iroh's robe. "Everything I do — just makes her worse…"

His uncle hugged him quickly back, as much to restrain Zuko as to comfort him. He was shaking so badly Iroh worried he had made himself sick with guilt.

"I just wish — I could take it back," he whispered hopelessly.

But Iroh could not help him take it back. He didn't even know what it was.

Yeah, there's no taking back what you did, Zuko.

From Chapter 12 (my favorite):

"Listen, you don't have to run away." She drew a deep breath, as if bracing herself for an unpleasant undertaking. "I'll talk to my father. He might get your parents to back off."

Ty Lee shifted nervously where she stood. Now she'd have to come out and say it. "But he suggested the match," she admitted dismally.

Azula let her hand drop and looked up at Ty Lee, the question written clearly on her face. "He wanted to elevate my family, to say thanks for being your friend," Ty Lee related the circumstances her own father had told her. "We're only minor nobles, and he arranged a match with some nobleman's son on Shu Jing. They're a cadet branch of your family, from back before Fire Lord Sozin. My dad already had to turn down the post as an ambassador, 'cause Mom's too sick to travel and —"

Ty Lee stopped talking when she remembered she forgot to tell Azula about that. She didn't start talking again when she saw the look on Azula's face. It was like someone walled off the last window into her prison cell… Ty Lee couldn't guess where that came from, when the princess was the most powerful person she knew. But it fit. Somehow, it fit.

"Then you have to go," Azula whispered, her gaze fixed straight ahead again.

Azula realizes what Ty Lee doesn't here: that Ozai is determined to separate them and is willing to kill Ty Lee is she doesn't cooperate with Plan A. So Azula chooses to save her friend at the cost of being left alone with her father.

From the same chapter:

"I was w-waiting for Azula to come back," Ty Lee almost pleaded, though what she was pleading for, she didn't quite know. "Where is she?"

The flame died in his hand, and the Fire Lord stopped at her question, so close that his shadow engulfed her. "She is training," he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear him when he stood right over her.

It took every ounce of courage Ty Lee had to point out, "B-but … it's the middle of the night."

His hand flashed out quick as a two-headed rat viper, and Ty Lee cried out in fear that he would hit her. But the Fire Lord seized her arm instead, yanking her roughly to her feet. "She trains when I say she trains," he sternly reproved her, a scowl cutting his brow.

"She is a prodigy," he said almost to himself, and something like a shadow fell over his face. "My perfect girl…"

Something in his voice made Ty Lee's eyes go wide. He talked about Azula like — like maybe she wasn't those things anymore. Like something bad happened to her…

He must have felt her go slack with surprise, because the Fire Lord took that opportunity to pull Ty Lee into the light from the hall. His hand gripped her arm like a vice, so hard Ty Lee started to lose feeling in it.

"She will sit the Burning Throne one day, with the world for her dominion," he spoke harshly, without so much as looking at Ty Lee. He pulled her along almost faster than she could walk. "Nothing will divert her from that goal. Nothing," he stopped on the threshold and turned to regard her, "and no one. Do you understand?"

We get the title drop here! This is also such a tense exchange between Ozai and Ty Lee. Even though you know she’s going to get out of this, you’re still terrified for her.

From the same chapter:

It was all training. She knew that, he knew that. But he had been very clear. No one else could know. They wouldn't understand. It would mean the end of his reign as Fire Lord, the end of her place in the line of succession. And Azula had honored his wishes. She never told. But what if he decided the risks outweighed the benefits —

No. He needed her. He needed her. Zuko could never succeed him, hadn't he said so? He needed her to succeed him…

He could always have more children, whispered the cruel voice of her doubt. With someone who isn't his daughter. She choked back a sob.

But then … why send Ty Lee away? Azula grasped at the possibility. He must not want her to know what they did, but — But why bother to hurt you, when what he really meant was to kill you?

She shuddered, bending in on herself. It occurred to her in that moment that there was something profoundly wrong with her life, if this was the only explanation she could find for it.

This is when Azula admits to herself that her life is fucked. Someone please wrap this girl in so many blankets, give her some spicy hot cocoa, and yip yip her away from her horrible father. Ozai should have never gotten custody.

From the same chapter:

She stared at him openly then, her breath catching in her throat. He couldn't mean — She almost died. She almost died. He didn't need to say so when she could read it on his face, when she had only to remember —

She almost died, and he wasn't going to stop.

[ . . . ]

Something in her tone must have convinced him this time, for he nodded and relaxed his grip. "I am glad to hear it." He stood then, and surprised her by bending to place a light kiss on her forehead, his big hand cupping her chin. He hadn't done that since she was a little girl, and Azula looked up at him in question when he withdrew.

"I am proud of your discretion in this matter, Azula," he confided. "Your reaction to the herb was … unexpected. And Lao will pay dearly for it, once your recovery is complete," he promised darkly, then grew more circumspect.

"I did not mean to harm you," her father said intently. "I hope you never doubted that."

"I never did," Azula said quietly. That almost-smile tugged at the corners of his mouth then, and she knew that he was pleased. It was the first time she succeeded in lying to her father.

Azula felt hollow inside.

The last two lines of this gut me. Her life is a nightmare.

From Chapter 13:

"Why would you do this for her?" Iroh finally asked the question that had been bothering him throughout their interview, his brows furrowed in question. "You worked in the palace from the time she was born. You were not one of her maidservants, but you must have known her reputation."

"Oh yes," the cook admitted evenly. "She was never very pleasant, and that much hasn't changed. But…" Her smile faded, and her gaze grew so distant Iroh felt sure she didn't see him standing right in front of her. "I owed her a debt."

"What debt?" Iroh asked her, and the woman closed her eyes briefly, to open them again with a fragile smile.

"My husband was — is — an imperial firebender," she explained. "To accuse him would have been impossible, just as much to run from him. I tried, more than once. But I never got far. Until the day she set me free.

"You see," Rai said warmly, taking a step closer, "she banished the kitchen staff before her guards. She gave me the head-start I needed to escape him. My work keeps me far from the Fire Nation most of the year, and he hasn't found me since."

"Rai," he said quietly, a little concerned for her sanity at this point, "you must know she didn't mean to help you. She banished her servants because she was crazy, not out of any altruistic urge."

She shook her head once, as if amused at his misunderstanding. "I don't care what she meant," the woman insisted, with a faith that Iroh found a little disturbing. "I just care that she helped me. And —" She paused, considering him before she admitted, "those years Prince Zuko was banished, her father kept her so close."

Iroh felt as if the bottom dropped out of his stomach, when he realized where she was going with this.

"She turned up all manner of strange injuries," Rai continued, ignoring his discomfort, "and even disappeared for a week once. There were some as said he killed her. And those were the least of the rumors." She pursed her lips and looked intently at him.

"There was something … wrong there," she said at last, grimly. "Everyone knew it. And no one did anything." She looked away. "Not even me."

"He was the Fire Lord," Iroh pointed out, when he managed to speak again. This was almost as awkward as talking to Zuko about it.

"And she was a piece of work," Rai finished bluntly, holding his gaze. "I know. She was also a child, with no one to treat her like one. I thought I might be someone to look out for her, even years too late," the cook said, looking down.

I love Rai. I love how she has a much better grasp on Azula’s character than Iroh does, and that she wants to repay Azula for giving her the opportunity to escape her abuser. I’m glad that Azula has at least one adult firmly in her corner.

From Chapter 14:

"Why are you telling me this?" Azula spoke at last, and Poppy Beifong looked actually at her, in evident confusion.

"Excuse me?" she said politely, sounding rather like she had a bad head-cold.

Azula stood so quickly she became dizzy, and had to brace her hands against the table to keep from collapsing back into her chair. "Why are you telling me," she demanded, her low voice quivering with anger when she pointed to the foothills at the edge of town, "when you could be telling her?"

[ . . . ]

Azula broke the seal with a slim finger, to see whether the damning letter held any mention of her. She read it through once quickly, and then again. By the third reading, her eyes burned and she began to find it hard to breathe. She gripped the edges of the scroll so hard it crumpled, and had to squeeze her eyes tightly closed before she could loosen her grip. The letter held no mention of her. It said —

It didn't matter what it said.

Azula burned the letter.

The conversation between Azula and Poppy and the subsequent letter is excellent. Both of these characters have mother-daughter issues, and Azula gives Poppy great advice—to tell Toph how much she cares about her—because Azula wants that from Ursa. Her reaction to the letter underscores that longing.

From Chapter 15:

"Don't cry, 'Zula," spoke a child's worried voice.

And she lifted her head, dizzy with the effort and eyes blurred with tears, to see her brother stood before her in the falling dark, bent over her hiding place with hands on his knees. He could not be older than four or maybe five. He still wore his hair in a ponytail and hadn't even lost his baby fat yet, his round face scrunched in the look of unstudied concern their mother loved so well, and which Azula could never recall him directing at her.

It just made her want to smack him. Didn't he know the world would beat him down over and over again so long as he kept that way? That not just Father and Azula, but every person with an ounce of cunning would take advantage of him when he wore his heart on his sleeve like that? She told him so many times, but he never listened until it was too late.

Yet in the end, he prevailed. The world bent to him. He got to be himself without condition, but not her. Never her. She didn't understand…

"You said it was my turn to be 'it'," Zuko reminded patiently, as oblivious to her conflict as to the weak sobs she gasped, huddled in her hole in the roots. "But you hid so well, I couldn't find you."

The hallucination stood and reached out smiling to add, "'Til now. I'll always find you."

She sucked in a shuddering breath and let it out, but made no move to take his hand. He wasn't even here. He never had been. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her throat felt raw for want of water when Azula whispered faintly, "Not this time." And his face fell.

"It's getting dark," the hallucination warned, looking anxiously about them when she leaned into one of the tree roots. "But I can find our way." It lit a flame in its outstretched hand, such a tiny, fragile thing that it flickered even in the absence of wind. Azula's stomach still clenched painfully at the sight, plucked out from her earliest memories and brought freshly to life. How desperately she wanted to bend when Zuko made his first flame, and she saw how their parents exclaimed over him…

As if seeing the look on her face, it sought to reassure her, "Don't worry, you'll learn how to bend when you get older!" But she hadn't waited that long, she started when she was three. "Pretty soon, you'll know how to do everything I do," the hallucination spoke confidently. "You're smart for a girl, you'll pick it up in no time."

Her raw eyes burned with tears. Half of what it just said might be condescending bullshit, but this was still more supportive than Azula could ever remember him being. She recalled the jealous looks he gave her when she surpassed him in bending, and even before that, when she started earlier and Father recognized her talent. His resentment when she survived her fall at the Western Air Temple. How Zuko sized her up before their Agni Kai. The padded cell he locked her in, only to shun her for four years.

The night he raped her.

And she couldn't reconcile it. How the little boy who stood before her could do —

"Why did —" she tried, and choked on her words. She dragged air into her burning lungs in deep, ragged gasps, and could still feel herself beginning to black out. The twilight beneath the trees grew dimmer until the flame was all she could see clearly.

"Where were — you when I — wanted you?" Azula wept, clutching the arm he burned to her chest, her skin searing so hot that her tears turned to steam. "Where were you when I wanted you?"

She could not make out his face anymore, but saw the shift in his stance before he let die the flame in his palm. She felt more than saw his sadness. "Dad killed me," the hallucination said forlornly. "And you laughed."

Her chest clutched painfully when she remembered that night, the night her mother left. And Azula thought it was cruelly appropriate that it was not Ursa here with her, at the end. She whispered, "I didn't mean it." Her eyes drifted closed.

The water made no sound when Zuko moved closer, but Azula felt his presence as clearly as if he sat on the edge of her bed, when she pulled the covers over her head.

"I know," she dimly heard him speak.

And the last thing she felt was him hugging her shoulders, his head laid against hers. Then she felt nothing at all.

This scene sticks with me, because Azula is being so honest with herself here, and the vision of kid!Zuko is heart-wrenching. The exchange between them at the end and the imagery of it, with him holding a light out to her, gets me every time.

From Chapter 16:

He had an advantage in all this that Azula didn't. He knew what a healthy relationship looked like. He knew what sex was supposed to be. That was how he knew that what they did, it wasn't an act of love.

It was an act of hate.

Him acknowledging that what happened in chapter seven was an act of hate always sticks out to me, too.

From Chapter 18:

"What am I s'posed to say?" She glared at the gray stone floor, hating the sudden tremor in her voice, small enough that anyone else but Mai would have missed it. "Sorry I never noticed your dad raped you?" Her voice caught on the word, and his mouth moved to speak her name in comfort or maybe reproach, but no sound emerged. Zuko tried to reach for her, but stopped himself. He looked like he might start crying.

Part of her wished he would, the part that thought it might relieve the angry weight that settled like a lump of burning coal in the pit of her stomach, when an all-day war meeting removed the nuisance of Zuko looking over her shoulder, and Mai was free to read the medical records alone. The weight of awful realization, when she compared the notes and dates to remembered words and signs and gestures that didn't make sense at the time, but now —

Now she knew, was forced to admit. It happened. She thought she even knew when it started, more precisely than Iroh. Azula had turned up training injuries for as long as Mai knew her, and became either so hostile or dismissive when Mai drew attention to it that she had long since learned to stop asking. Ty Lee was slower to learn, but Azula had always been more forgiving of her anyway.

But one day at school, she remembered Azula was … different.

[ . . . ]

Except for the day she remembered now, when they passed an entire lunch period before Mai realized Azula hadn't said a word. It probably wouldn't have registered if Ty Lee hadn't pointed out nervously (trying to pass it off as a joke to avoid her wrath) that the princess was even quieter than Mai today.

Not that Azula talked that much, even then. And next to Ty Lee, anyone else would seem like a mute. But she was right. Azula hadn't raised her hand once in any of the classes they shared that day, when she was usually the first to volunteer answers. (This had earned the princess an early reputation as a teacher's pet, before everyone realized Azula bullied her teachers every bit as much as her classmates.)

But even when she was silent, Azula always had this overwhelming sense of presence about her that Mai attributed to her being royalty, until she met Zuko and felt the difference. Azula was always watching, weighing, judging. Plotting. That day at lunch when she answered Ty Lee, her voice emerged perfectly level, she sounded like herself. But her eyes were empty. It was like she was somewhere else entirely.

Azula sat stiffly, moved stiffly, when she had never let what she called training injuries impair her calculated grace before. Such small tells for the enormity of what was done to her, that Mai doubted anyone who didn't know her well would even notice. And no one knew her well, besides Mai and Ty Lee. The princess didn't exactly invite confidences or questions about her well-being.

Outwardly, Azula was back to normal (for her) in a few days' time, with what Mai realized when she read the records were only occasional relapses. Azula had always adjusted to monstrous cruelty with disturbing ease. It seemed this was the case even when it was inflicted on her.

That first time wasn't dated in her medical records, but Mai thought it wouldn't be. A violated daughter was probably too obvious even for Ozai to parade before his royal physician without urgent need. He probably just sent her to the bath when he was done with her, to erase the evidence…

The lump of coal in the pit of her stomach burned hotter. Mai blinked the stinging from her eyes, when Zuko touched her arm in concern. Azula was always a bitch, even before this happened. But no one deserved that. Not even her.

Mai’s realization is gutting. She’s built up Azula in her head as a snake, but here she has to see Azula as a person, and a person who had horrible things done to them.

From Chapter 19:

Azula scowled, reminded annoyingly of her uncle and his circuitous attempts at imparting wisdom, not that he ever bothered with her. "I was talking — to —" She stopped, an unconscious hand laid on her now-flat stomach. The baby, Roku hardly needed her to finish, if he had really been watching this entire time. If she were still in her body, if she still breathed, Azula thought she might start hyperventilating.

A head of dark hair emerged from the flowering shrubs, when the child she chased through the snow stepped out from concealment. Azula's first, absurd impression was that someone had stuck her, Mai, and Zuko in a crucible, and melted them into one somehow smaller person, perhaps four or five years old.

It was the bangs, she realized, cut straight across her brow like Mai's, though they feathered in a way Mai's thick hair never would. Her hair was the same ashy black as Zuko's, as Father's, bound up in a topknot ornamented with the three-point flame of a blood princess. Her eyes were a gold as pure as her crown, but wider, rounder than Zuko's and hers, shaped like — my mother's, Azula thought numbly.

But she could see some of herself in the girl too, the same upturned nose her uncle Iroh would tweak before she was old enough to communicate how much she hated that, the same pointed chin and arch to her brows. Though she was paler than either of the royal siblings, as if she had spent all of her short life locked away indoors —

Her short life, when she hadn't even been born yet… The child studied her back without fear, eager even. She stopped beside the torii gate, half-hugging one of the trunk-like pillars, an uncertain smile playing at the edges of her mouth. How like Zuko she looked, when she smiled that way.

If she were still in her body, Azula thought she would start crying. "This —" She glanced to Roku who watched them impassively, her fists clenched and frozen in place. "This is not okay," she squeaked out. Her eyes strayed back to her — to the girl, she couldn't seem to stop looking. "You don't — just get to show me her —"

The child watched her curiously but stayed silent, still hugging the torii gate. "I didn't bring you here," the spirit of her ancestor reminded patiently. "You did." She looked to him in irritation, when he distinctly said — "She did." And Azula stopped, stared.

"Your spirit was in the physical world, hers is in the Spirit World. Still, you share one life, one body, so long as she is in you. That is a more powerful connection than you share with me, whom you have never met, or with any other spirit. When you opened yourself to her, the combination of that openness and your will to enter accomplished your entry to the Spirit World.

"Your bloodlines and placement at the temple might also have something to do with it," he added, frowning, though Azula barely heard him when her — when the child detached itself from the torii gate to approach her. "I don't know that this has ever happened before, certainly not as long as I have been here."

But he stopped when the girl child stopped beside Azula, reaching up to pluck the three-point flame headpiece from her topknot and hold this wordlessly out to her. Azula took it from her hands on reflex, and said in answer to her unspoken question, "This is the crown of a princess of the Fire Nation." Her manicured hands shook when she replaced the golden flame in her daughter's hair, only to withdraw them and whisper, "You are a princess of the Fire Nation." Like me.

The child glanced to the identical flame in Azula's topknot then back to her face. "It —" Azula looked to Roku again, lips pressed tightly together and too scared to ask the most pressing question on her mind. "It's a girl?"

"That much seems likely," he cautiously replied, looking on the child as if he expected her to spontaneously combust. But all Azula heard was what he didn't say.

The question flew from her mouth before she could stop it, "Will she look like this?" Azula was painfully aware that her own image here did not reflect her reality. She pulled her nearer hand away instinctively when the child made to hold it, then remembered her own mother doing the same, and assented. I don't like to be touched, she thought helplessly. If she could get accustomed to it, like with Ty Lee — But would she have that chance? Would her d— Would the girl?

"Will —" Azula tried, while the child prised her fingers apart, comparing them to hers. With her dark head bent over Azula's hand, she seemed fascinated by the contrast of her long, sharp nails to the girl's own, trimmed short. Azula had to look back at Roku, who stood unmoving in the silver light of the Moon, before she could ask it.

"Will she be born — whole, and healthy?"

His aspect grew harsher, eyes narrowed. "I may be able to look into the world, but I cannot look into your womb," Roku coldly denied. "No one can know what she will do or be, until you bring her forth."

But Azula glared at a sudden realization, when she had been too angry to question or care what he meant before. "When you said, I made a grave mistake…" she whispered harshly, while her daughter fisted small fingers experimentally in the flare of Azula's sleeve above her red leather bracer. "You meant —"

His level gaze, his silence, were all the answer Azula needed. "How dare you?" she spoke low and deadly. The child seemed to pick up on her sentiment, frowning at Roku with the same crease between her brows that Azula saw when her father yelled. "You just said no one can know what she'll do or be!

"Her being my daughter — the way she was made — none of it means she'll be — she'll be —" A monster, "— like me!" Azula spoke in anger, the grip of the girl on her arm her only restraint from showing Roku exactly how she felt about his presumption, divorced from her body or not.

I love this scene of Azula meeting the spirit of her daughter. It’s so good! Also, I’m glad that Azula drags Roku here. He deserves it.

From the same chapter:

And all Azula knew was the same bone-deep terror she saw in the child's face when they ran to each other, drawn by an instinct as old as the world. Her daughter screamed a word, a name, that cut her to the core across the silence neither one could bridge.

Azula almost reached her, the fingers of their outstretched hands just touched beneath the arch of the torii gate, before darkness swallowed them both.

My heart!

From the same chapter:

Only one door was left open to him, and he skid to a halt before it, not even winded. He could not have said if he ran for a year or a minute anyway. The gold-inlaid door opened on a sunlit nursery, where a tall woman with brown hair swept up in an elegant half-topknot held the hand of a little boy. He gazed curiously through the carved bars of the crib at a baby girl, who slept with her thumb stuck in her mouth and a purple stuffed animal clutched to her side.

The woman's mouth moved as if speaking, but it wasn't her words that registered. The baby girl — his sister — breathed low, steadily, and he could feel her breathe, with the weight of hours spent watching over her. He used to match his breaths to hers, he remembered suddenly, and feel a warmth kindle inside that he wouldn't realize until years later was his own inner flame. Long before he ever bent fire, she gave that to him…

AZULA GAVE ZUKO HIS FIRE! This is so sweet. What relationship could these two have had if their parents hadn’t ruined it?

From the same chapter:

Her throne became her funeral pyre. She was dead.

Or she would die or was dying — He didn't know what any of it meant, even if he could guess…

He didn't want to guess. It was beyond his power to help any of it, now. He turned his attention to the little weight in his arms, still slick with her blood.

It was blue.

It stayed blue even when he frantically swiped the blood away, its skin hard to the touch and covered all over with raised bumps. Had it been stillborn and deformed, after everything?

His heart throbbed painfully in his chest, and tears burned his eyes. It felt so warm against him, but he just snatched it from the fire. He had thought he saw it move in the shifting light that split-second before —

It took him a moment to register. It felt warm. He could feel its heat, the ridges of what he realized with a shock were scales beneath his fingertips. Its jaw was long and narrow, bearded with a soft tuft of hair. The ridges of its eyebrows were two horns with points curved wickedly forward, above delicate orbital fins. Its eyes were his own gold, its pupils two black slits grown wide in the low light when it studied him back.

Long whiskers twined the length of its sinuous body, when it uncurled the tufted tail tucked up against its pale underbelly. Each sturdy limb ended in four digits tipped with claws, and its shoulders were broad and powerful. He only realized when they shifted that the bony structures trapped in the crook of his arm were wings. It yawned to reveal a mouthful of sharp teeth, its long tongue flicked up as if to taste the air, and he could have cried.

It was — "A dragon," he whispered wonderingly. She gave birth to a dragon…

Born of their hatred, their shared past, their pain. It was inhuman, and beautiful. A beautiful monster.

Just like her.

We’ll get to this fever dream of a chapter, but I love this imagery, even if I’m going, “WTF?” at Zuko viewing his and Azula’s daughter as a “beautiful monster” instead of a person. Buddy, you have issues.

From Chapter 21:

Dragon story!" she cut him off gleefully, and his round face scrunched with anger. "Azula…"

"Dragon story, dragon story, dragon story, DRAGON STORY!" she hopped in place to crow at him, until an unfamiliar voice spoke up, "What is this?"

Azula shot to her brother's side at the approach of the old man bristling with armor, but Zuko snorted at her. "Don't be such a baby. It's just Uncle Iroh." He bowed to their uncle before Azula thought to bob from the waist with hands clasped, in clumsy imitation of his greeting.

"Who let a jumping kangaroo mouse into the palace? Prince Zuko, have you told the royal zookeeper?" he demanded of her brother, who grinned as if at some shared joke. Azula pouted, clutching her book tighter.

Seeing this, he asked her kindly, "What is this I hear about a dragon story?"

"She's mad about dragons," Zuko butt in. "She wants to hear this stupid story fifty times a day —"

Azula stamped her curly-toed boot. "It's not stupid, you're stupid!"

Zuzu turned a satisfying shade of purple at her clever retort. "I'm already late for my lesson! Dad said if I don't —"

"How about a different lesson?" Iroh proposed, gold eyes twinkling when he laid a heavy hand first on Zuko's shoulder, then the top of her head. "And a different story?" Zuzu slumped shoulders in evident defeat, but Azula blinked curiously.

"Did you know that I am called 'The Dragon of the West'?" their uncle started, but Zuko's sigh of "Everyone knows that," was drowned out by her obvious, "You don't look like a dragon.

"Did you find one?" She looked up at him with wide eyes, and Iroh nodded, smiling. "Did it let you ride it, like in the story?"

With what she would soon realize was his usual evasion, he turned her question back on her. "Have you ever ridden a dragon, Princess Azula?" At her mournful shake of the head, he looked at Azula in exaggerated shock.

"A princess of the Fire Nation, and you have never ridden a dragon? Prince Zuko, is this true?" he asked her brother, and Zuko nodded with equal gravity.

"Well, that will never do," he spoke briskly, seizing her under the arms. "Up you get!"

Azula shrieked with equal parts fear and delight when Iroh swung her up onto his shoulders, to sit behind his balding head. She grabbed two handfuls of his black hair and held on laughing while he ran her down the halls. Zuko jogged behind them, holding the book she dropped and grinning ear to ear.

"Now you can tell your friends you rode a dragon!" Iroh yelled, when they rounded a corner onto the curtain-hung archway that led to the throne room. Azula had never been inside, but her father made sure she knew that door and not to play near it.

This is such a sweet scene, which Ozai ruins by interrupting and forcing Iroh to admit that he “killed” the last dragon, which turns Azula against Iroh. It’s nice to get a glimpse of how this family could have been, had Azulon and Ozai not done what they did.

From the same chapter:

"Why will you not tell me what happened?!" Iroh demanded, at the end of his patience.

"Because," Azula spoke sharply, and looked on him with eyes so accusing they might have stared into his soul. "Even if you believed it," she whispered hauntingly, "I know who you'd blame."

This exchange is rough, but true. Given the pedestal that Iroh has put Zuko on, he’d definitely be inclined to blame Azula for what happened.

From the same chapter:

"You're not a person," spoke the voice of her past. "You're a monster."

"I am," she whispered.

"A liar."

"I am."

"A failure."

"I have," she grudgingly acknowledged, gathering herself where she lay frozen in the ash as if for one last desperate charge. "But you're wrong about one thing.

"I am loved." Her voice gained strength. "I am loved." She surged to her feet. "I AM LOVED!"

Shards of ice flying outward caught the light that burst from her with that declaration, light like a sun in miniature, so blinding all she could see in that first moment was white. Azula stopped, stunned at the burnt waste illuminated all around her.

She couldn't bend fire here. She had no power to threaten anyone. Because in the Spirit World, love was power. In the Spirit World, the only light was —

"Love," she whispered, and bent her head to wipe her eyes with a shining hand. "Thank you, Ty."

How was I not supposed to ship them? This is so heartwarming!

From the same chapter:

Ursa looked into her face as if trying to read another language.

"Azula?" she spoke wonderingly at last, pushing herself into a sitting position. Expected to see someone else? Azula thought but didn't say.

"What —" Her wide eyes trailed the length of Azula's body, from shoulder guards to steel-toed boots and back again. "What on Earth are you wearing?"

Yep, Azula thought drily. That's her alright.

This is very funny to me. The first thing that Ursa says to her daughter after all of this time is to ask her what she’s wearing. What the heck, mom?

From Chapter 22:

Michi just held hands out in front of her in a warding gesture and shook her head, though whether in answer to Azula's question or denial of her identity was less clear. "Princess Azula," she whispered, clearly horrified in the light of green crystals set in sconces on the wall.

Azula could practically see her make the connection, when Michi's eyes went round with shock. "'The high lord charged with your care'," she remembered, "was — the Fire L—"

"Shut up," Azula spoke hoarsely this time, lighting daggers of blue flame from her clenched fists for persuasion. "You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, least of all my mother. Do you understand?"

Chekov’s Secretkeeper. I would be shocked if this doesn’t come back into play later.

From the same chapter:

"At least she'll know I love her!" Azula burst out, and the fire burned so white-hot when she dropped her hands that it died to embers the next instant.

Ursa took a swift step back. She could not have looked more shocked if her daughter slapped her. Her voice shook, "Azula…"

"Don't!" she cried out in pain, shrinking back when Ursa moved hesitantly to touch her. "Don't say it! Like I could ever believe that, coming from you!"

The scars Azula carries from her mother’s neglect and abandonment run deep. Ursa is going to have to put a lot of work in for their relationship to recover.

From Chapter 23:

But Azula — Ursa didn't understand why she couldn't be different.

Why couldn't she be more like Zuko? Didn't they both have the same good example in her, whatever other poisonous influences Ursa had to contend with? Hadn't she tried just as hard, even harder, to show Azula the right path?

It was tempting to think she'd been born that way. Ursa couldn't remember anymore what the girl was like before Ozai got his claws in her. Years would pass before she considered that maybe she had never known. Azula hadn't always been his favorite, but it seemed like she had always been his creature. Always his and never hers, not like Zuko.

What was wrong with that child?

It was only days later, torturing herself with every detail of the last time she would ever see her children, that Ursa realized she'd spoken aloud.

Yeah, Azula is not going to forget that. Kids always remember their parents’ casual cruelties.

From the same chapter:

The Fire Lord just drained his cup, devoid of sympathy. "Do you know what I was doing, at ten years old?" Ursa didn't answer him. She couldn't speak, just counted the seconds in her head. Azulon answered her, "I was still learning forms your daughter has mastered at eight." He smiled at the look that came over her face then, adding, "And they called me a prodigy.

"For such talent to manifest in a mere girl —" He let the sentence hang, put down his cup. "Her sons will bring the world to heel, whether they are Lu Ten's or not. Her sons will found a dynasty to last ten thousand years, and the sun will never set on their dominion.

"Your son," he pronounced coldly, "has no place in that future."

"You're wrong."

The Fire Lord looked sharply at her, but whatever answer he had meant to give was lost when his thin face contorted with pain, when his wizened arm shot out to trap her wrist in a clawed grip. His sharp nails drew blood before she could twist free, stumble to her feet and out of his reach. Her hands shook.

"Poisonous bitch," he gasped, cringing before her while Ursa looked down on him in mounting horror. "You hid it — in the leaves, didn't you?"

The leaves themselves were poison, but Ursa didn't tell him that. Dried and pressed between the pages of Love Amongst the Dragons, the play she loved so well she could recite it from memory, the leaf and flower of the White Jade bush only grew more potent with each passing year.

The tea brewed from them was indistinguishable from White Dragon tea … until the drinker's throat began to swell shut. Leaves this potent, aged this long, would kill quickly enough to leave no outward sign.

Ursa hardened her heart, and managed only, "You made a mistake when you threatened my son."

"You're right," the Fire Lord gasped and gripped the edges of the table. "I should have threatened — the girl." Ursa jerked as if physically stuck. "Wouldn't have lifted — a finger then— would you?"

"No…" she whispered brokenly, cold to her core.

"That's not true," Ursa argued, her voice rising over his wheezing death rattle. But all she saw were tears in Azula's eyes, all she heard was her girlish voice break —I hate you! "I would have done — the same for — for her.

"I love her," Ursa insisted, voice shaking. "Azula. I do"

"No you don't." The dying Fire Lord pushed to his feet, upending the low table with a crash of priceless porcelain, and Ursa took a swift step back. The dagger was in her hand. She didn't remember laying hold of it, could barely think through the ringing in her ears.

She felt like she was at the epicenter of an explosion, everything she knew torn down to constituent parts until nothing made sense anymore. She didn't know whose life this was, whose daughter…

"You don't." Her eyes fixed wildly on him, bent almost double, face purpling and steps shuffling and indistinct through the well of her tears. Azulon forced out, "You look at her — and see — Ozai."

And Ursa uttered a faint cry of pain before she could clap a hand over her mouth, still retreating. She held the blade out before her, pointlessly. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"You look at her — and see me." He grinned hideously, his thin face twisted in a rictus of pain when he stumbled and fell to one knee. Azulon pushed himself back up again, eyes bloodshot and bulging. "You see — the path— laid out — for her. And you fear it."

"No," she half-sobbed, heart beating frantically. I know what it takes to survive here…

"You fear her."

"No!" she denied it too loudly, forgetting where she was. You never taught me that, Dad did!

"You know it," the Fire Lord hissed, his eyes blazed into hers, and his fumbling hands closed over her wrists —

"She knows it too."

"Nooo-ah-oh!" Something broke in her when she was supposed to be a child, she was supposed to be her child, and Ursa looked at her and all she could see was —

"Monster!" Ursa struck at him again and again — "Monster!" She could barely see through her tears, but the dagger found its mark — "MONSTER!" She kept stabbing until he stopped talking, until he stopped moving…

"It's not true," she panted. It took a while to realize he'd stopped moving, for the ringing in her ears to subside. "I love her," she insisted blindly to the corpse lying bent at her feet. "Azula. I do…"

I love this exchange. We get another title drop, echoes of hallucination!Ursa’s claims from canon, and Ursa stabs an emperor. Good for her!

From the same chapter:

Fu looked quickly up at her, his bald pate gleaming, but it was one of his mustachioed commanders who burst out, "Who would —" He flushed blotchily and looked down at the glare Azula directed at him. He finished in a low voice, chastened, "Who would dishonor a princess of the Fire Nation?"

"Tell us the man, Princess," the rear admiral insisted, his lean face hard. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once. "And he will never again draw breath."

Azula stared Fu down until he averted his gaze too. "Your concern is touching," she lied smoothly, stood with hands propped on hips, "and wholly unnecessary. His fate," she promised herself, "is mine to decide."

I love this show of loyalty to Azula from her countrymen. It’s nice that there are adults in her life that would throw down for her.

From the same chapter:

"That's when I knew I would take what was mine, with fire and blood."

I’ve said before that Dominion draws on A Song of Ice and Fire spiritually more than it does ATLA, hence this nod to the Targaryens. I also had a thought that Zuko and Azula are a bit like Theon and Asha, in a way.

From the same chapter:

He looked into the darkened glass, and the faintest of smiles curved his lips. Ozai spoke almost to himself, "In all my life, only one person has never disappointed me." He briefly closed his eyes, breathed in deeply. "I pray she never does."

"Azula — She's a child," Ursa whispered, horror creeping at the edges of her mind with a question as urgent as any she confronted this night. And what happens when she does?

"She excels you in every way," Ozai dismissed, his voice dripping with disgust when he looked down on Ursa trying in vain to cover herself.

She stopped, feeling distinctly as if she missed something vital, but Ozai kept talking.

Aurelia has mentioned to me that Ozai’s sexual abuse of Azula didn’t start this early, but when I first read this I went, “Oh. Oh no. He can’t mean it like that, can he?”

From the same chapter:

Her door was closed to the torchlit hall when Ursa paused before it. No imperial firebenders stood guard, as they had not for Zuko. If the palace guard was in an uproar as Ozai said, they must have been sent to secure the perimeter. Sunrise, she remembered Ozai's warning. Out the west gate.

Azula might not even be inside. Ursa remembered how she fought her. Go to your room! Ursa didn't know where else she would be. Not with Ozai surely, not when he was busy bedding her maid for what Ursa realized now was probably a solid alibi.

Azula might be asleep. You fear her. You know it, whispered a voice that sounded more like Ozai than Azulon. She had woken Zuko to say goodbye. She could wake her daughter too, but what would she say to her?

She knows it too. And Ursa laid her hand upon the rivets of the iron door, so lightly, squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed her tears and remembered the small face livid with outrage. I hate you!

I don't hate you, Ursa thought. I don't know what to say to you.

She could wake her daughter, and make it worse. Do you think she would follow you anywhere? She doubted she could make it better. The time for that passed years ago.

I'm sorry.

Her hand slid from the door and Ursa withdrew, her steps soundless on the plush floor runner. Coward, she had called him before she left. Ozai just smiled his daughter's smile.

In the end, Ursa was no better. She walked away, and felt nothing. She walked away, and her heart was the same barren, bloodless thing it always had been for her daughter. Her chest ached like a hole had been carved in it. She felt cold.

She should have known what day it was. The last day of her life.

“The last day of her life” refrain is incredibly memorable to me. It also kills me that Ursa chooses to not say goodbye to Azula here.

From Chapter 24:

Azula stepped close, and bent to whisper in her kneeling captive's ear, "You work for him, at least in name. So what do you suppose that makes you?" Rewarded by his impotent shock when she stood, Azula looked down on him in full knowledge of the fact that he could not betray her secret without also harming Zuko's claim to the throne, and through him, his son and Mai.

She spoke up for the benefit of those watching, "You're mistaken. Whores sell their bodies for pleasure."

She could practically feel everyone watching stop breathing (her assailant certainly did) when she pushed him gently back to sit on his bound feet, kneeling astride him while one hand gripped his chestplate for support. Her father whispered from the recesses of memory, The sword raised against you on the field of battle…

"My body, is a weapon," Azula harshly contradicted, moving her hips in a practiced rise and fall that seemed to inspire her assassin with equal parts terror and arousal. The dagger at your throat as you sleep…

His mistake was thinking that she ever slept. He was about to learn his mistake. Azula looked into his eyes to demand, "What is the purpose of a weapon?"

Seeing his distraction, she focused his attention with two fingers of her left hand thrust into the hollow of his jaw. You have the potential to be both, Ozai had judged her. "What is the purpose of a weapon?" she repeated, while he looked on Azula with mounting alarm.

"To deal pain — injury — death," he spoke hastily, sweating at the implied threat.

"That's right." Azula resumed the motion of her hips. When you learn to make a hidden strength of weakness, their ignorance becomes your gain. "But different weapons, are forged to different purpose. And you, are not my purpose."

She shoved him roughly away, and pushed to her feet. He landed on his shoulder and squirmed onto his belly, trying to right himself without the benefit of hands or feet, as pathetic as a beetle turned on its back in the dirt. Azula sighed and set his rope bonds aflame with a flick of her fingers. He broke them and scrambled to his feet, looking about him in obvious trepidation.

"You are beneath my contempt, or my notice," Azula flatly pronounced. "And I won't kill you."

This is such an uncomfortable scene, but it does show just how much Ozai’s “training” has warped Azula’s understanding of what contexts are acceptable for this kind of behavior. Here’s a hint, Azula: You shouldn’t grind on someone in public, even as an object lesson.

From the same chapter:

Her son was scarred and banished from his home at thirteen. Ursa had not thought Azula had any innocence left to lose. Now she was forced to wonder how old her daughter had been when she lost — that.

Ursa is going to be horrified when she learns the answer to this question.

From the same chapter:

Azula looked ill, her face pinched and colorless, and Ursa itched to intervene. "Iroh's bastards prove your blood runs strong," the rear admiral spoke low, intimately, oblivious to her discomfort. "No doubt your son will favor you, too."

Azula squeezed her eyes closed and drew a deep breath. Her hands crept over the gentle swell of her pregnancy, a gesture as protective as it was unconscious. "And if my child — were a girl?" she said slowly, almost too low to make out. Her suitor let go as if she'd burned him, and Azula looked straight at him. Her voice steadied, "Would you see her sit the throne before any sons I bear you?"

The rear admiral hesitated, glanced uncomfortably at her clasped hands, what they held, in a way that rendered all his reassurances empty. And Ursa watched Azula build her walls back up stone by stone.

Ursa admired her in that moment. Her heart ached for her, too.

Go Azula, standing up for your daughter!

From the same chapter:

The relief that flashed across her daughter's face, seeing her freed of that man's clutches, made any embarrassment worthwhile. "Excuse me," Ursa spoke correctly, as if she had not just tripped through the side of a tent.

I love Ursa in this moment.

From the same chapter:

Her daughter's sharp gaze grew distant, and Ursa wondered if she was actually second-guessing herself. Then Azula glanced aside, to speak, "How old-fashioned you are. Men pretend they want someone sexless and demure, an obedient shadow to stand silent behind them. But this is a lie.

"They want the flame," Azula spoke flatly, as if reciting from memory. "They want to be consumed. They want a woman who can own them, body and soul. A woman who will look them straight in the eyes," she looked into her mother's, and Ursa repressed a shiver, "and make them beg for more.

"This was the power of the act, he said. It makes men forget themselves. It makes them reveal things about themselves they never would otherwise. It puts them in your power, and through you —" She stopped and drew a sharp breath, as if only just remembering herself.

But she had already said too much. Ursa looked on her in horror. "Who taught you that?" she demanded, voice strident. Of all the nonsense Azula just spouted, it was those two words that stuck most firmly in Ursa's head, he said, he said, he said…

Who? Her — her lover? Ursa imagined him as looking like Ozai, and recoiled inwardly. But it made a certain sense, she argued, a certain awful sort of sense. Azula had always worshipped her father. She would look for the same sort of man, not knowing what it meant to give yourself to a man like that, not knowing what it cost…

Azula was silent, watching her. The line of her brows and the set of her mouth spoke anxiety, but she gave no answer. And Ursa realized, She must have misspoken. "It was Lo and Li, wasn't it?"

Azula closed her eyes, let out a long breath through her nose, and Ursa knew she was right. Ozai was always too indulgent of his daughter, but he wouldn't have let her take lovers. The scandal alone could undo him and his precious rule. And how had Azula described the father of her child? Not even a man, but … a boy. Just a boy.

Ursa was so, so close to realizing the truth, but then shied away from it. Someday she’s going to look back on this moment and want to scream.

From the same chapter:

"That assassin — said," Ursa spoke awkwardly, blushing at the memory, "he was a traitor —"

"No," Azula corrected pleasantly, arms crossed and brows arched. "He said I was traitor's whore. Get your facts straight, Mother."

Ursa inhaled sharply at her daughter's flippancy. Was this some kind of game to her? "Well, was he?" she demanded, when Azula walked stiffly past her to the command table.

Azula bent to study the pins spread over each map, her hands braced against the table and facing away from Ursa, fingers curling when she asked, "Was he what?"

"A traitor," Ursa bit out, annoyed at her reticence.

Azula was silent so long Ursa thought she wouldn't answer, standing still as a stone while she studied troop movements or supply lines or something equally incomprehensible to Ursa which was marked on those maps. Then her head dipped between her shoulders and her voice spoke, impossibly small, "Yeah."

Ursa felt as if all the breath had left her body with that single admission. Still she stepped quickly forward at what else she'd heard in Azula's voice, but her daughter looked away at her approach, swiping angrily at her eyes. She still couldn't seem to look at Ursa, when she qualified with voice shaking, "Just not the traitor you think."

He betrayed her, Ursa sadly concluded, watching Azula draw deep breaths to master her tears, the tails of her hair hanging straight down, her nails digging grooves in the wood of the table. But she still loves him.

Ursa may not know her daughter as well as she should. But she knew a hopeless love when she saw one. She knew it too well.

This makes my heart ache. Azula really does love her brother, but he figuratively and literally screwed her over.

From the same chapter:

"You will never be Fire Lord!" Ursa burst out with a sweep of her hand, done indulging these childish fantasies. Ozai had only ever indulged her, and look where that landed his daughter? "And even if you were —"

"What?!" Azula stepped forward to demand, let down her arms as if ready to leap at her mother.

"For Agni's sake, Azula!" Her willfulness, her blindness to the realities of this world were intolerable. "You would still be woman!" Ursa gestured sharply at her, and Azula exploded.

"So are you!" Ursa took a swift step back at her hurt and frustration, deeper and more abiding than this argument alone.

"The difference is, I would never let anyone take my child from me because I was a woman!" Azula railed at her, one hand laid protectively on her middle, fingers clenched. "I would never let anyone hurt her, or deny her what is hers!

"I would never ignore and disparage her for being a woman! I would never prefer a son to her or trample on her dreams or try to make her be something she's not!

"I know what that feels like!" Azula was shouting now, tears in her eyes. "You taught me too well! You want to lecture someone on failing as a mother, why don't you look in the mirror?"

I love Azula pointing out how messed up Ursa’s internalized sexism is. I can only hope it will lead Ursa to reflect on how messed up the standards in the Fire Nation are.

From Chapter 25:

"Princess Azula, Beloved of Agni," the officer addressed her formally, eyes downcast. "With his bending stripped by the Avatar, by law your honored father may never again sit the Burning Throne." She drew a deep breath. "But if the prince's council are removed, who will rule us? Another regent? Your brother, or —"

Her eyes flashed up to Azula, a tawny brown, wide and hopeful. And Ursa's breath caught in her throat. This was it. The point of no return. Azula would announce her treason to all to hear, and there would be nothing Ursa could do for her, for either of her children.

Ursa didn't want to lose either of her children, not least to a needless civil war…

But Azula surprised her, just held the woman officer's gaze for a long moment as if communicating without words. And then she pronounced, "If he would lead our nation, let him fight for it."

Azula looked out into the murmuring crowd who instantly quieted, to add, "Like I did. Like I will."

Ursa could practically feel the collective indrawn breath of everyone watching, most of whom looked as worshipfully upon Azula as the woman knelt beside them. For now they had her promise. To fight for the rule or for their nation, it mattered not to these soldiers. Wherever her "mission" might take her, they knew: They had their princess back.

And Ursa remembered to breathe again, too. That was… She could work with that. Azula was probably just reluctant to commit herself before she was assured of victory. I certainly would abandon a fight I couldn't win, or which didn't benefit me. Maybe it was simply her instinct for self-preservation. Ursa had never been more grateful for that than today.

"I wish you all a safe journey," Azula gravely took her leave, holding her left hand out palm-up to ignite a searing blue flame. Ursa shrank from the heat of it, but could not bring herself to let go of Azula's waist.

"May Agni light your way," Azula shouted, and what must have been nearly every soldier there rumbled back, "And keep your fire in the dark."

And just like that, a small sea of lights sprang into being. The soldiers honored her fire with the traditional flame salute, but the benders among them went one step further, lighting orange flames from the tips of their fingers.

Her daughter looked out at them for a timeless moment, eyes wide and almost childlike, suspiciously bright in the blue light of her fire. Ursa felt her breath hitch and hugged her a little tighter, which seemed to recall Azula to herself. She closed her fist on the flame, and snuffed it.

Listen, I know nationalism is bad and monarchies are bad, but this is a great scene. The imagery of the sea of lights punches me in the heart. I love that they have their princess back and that she has their loyalty. Azula needs a strong support system.

From the same chapter:

"You told them," Zuko said flatly. He honestly felt too tired for this. Maybe he had his limits, too. "You told Aang and Katara about" — he fought to steady his voice — "about Azula."

His uncle had the good grace to look ashamed, at least. "You weren't speaking to me," Iroh tried to justify, a little desperately. "But you needed to talk to someone, and I just — I just wanted to help you." His hand moved helplessly as if to reach for Zuko, but then he let it fall.

"You only ever wanted to help me," Zuko quietly affirmed, and gripped his arm in reassurance.

He drew a deep breath. Be nice. "But do you really think Azula wanted them to know about that?" Iroh looked doubtful. "Do you think she would want anyone to know?"

Have you ever once thought of what she wanted, or needed? Zuko didn't voice, sick at heart. Why would you? I was her brother, and even I didn't…

"It wasn't yours to tell," he whispered at last, and Iroh looked stung.

Zuko is growing and has empathy for his sister here. He reminds Iroh that Azula’s trauma wasn’t his to share. I am reminded of the fact that Iroh also shared Zuko’s trauma behind his back in canon, so this is a bad habit that Iroh needs to break.

From the same chapter:

"She said she found your mother —"

"What?" Zuko gasped, and Uncle had to grab hold of his arm to stop him from stepping backward off the stairs in shock. Zuko took a hasty seat on the topmost step at Iroh's urging, his eyes stinging and breath coming fast —

You want to find … Mom?

Yes.

"She did it," he whispered tearfully and gripped his head in his hands, overwhelmed with regret, with gratitude, with too many emotions to number or name. "After everything…" His voice broke, and he stifled a sob.

Uncle looked like he regretted his disclosure more by the moment. "It could be a lie," he cautioned.

Zuko bit his lip against an irrepressible smile. "Lies are supposed to be plausible, dumdum." Iroh looked quizzically at him, and Zuko explained. "Something she said to me once."

I can’t help but laugh when Zuko repeats the “lies are supposed to be plausible” line. His exhilaration over Azula finding Ursa is also sweet.

From Chapter 26:

"And she said, 'I don't — have sob stories like the rest of you,'" Zuko recalled it with painful clarity. But you did, you did, his heart cried. Why didn't you tell me? Just one more of her lies…

"She said, 'I could complain how Mom liked Zuko more than me. But I don't care. My own mother,'" he whispered in unconscious imitation of his sister, "'thought I was a monster.'"

Kwan had actually stopped taking notes at some point in his account, and sat staring at Zuko. "That's why I think — Azula wouldn't tell our mom," he reiterated, awkwardly. "She said she didn't care, but… Why would she even bring it up unless — unless she really does?"

"What did you say," the doctor asked him with a strange urgency, "when the princess told you this?" And Zuko wondered, not for the first time, if Kwan still hoped to help Azula, too.

"Um … nothing?" Zuko blankly replied, only more confused (and defensive) when Kwan looked at him in utter disbelief. He let his feet down and sat up straight, spreading his hands helplessly. "Why would I say anything?"

The doctor sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, reaching up to massage his own forehead. He closed his eyes before he spoke, as if it were too much to look at Zuko right now.

"Because by remaining silent, you tacitly agree with everything she just said."

Zuko exhaled like he'd been punched in the gut. Oh gods, that was — That made so much sense. Why was he so bad at this?

I love that the therapist basically goes, “You fucking idiot” to Zuko. Zuko should have contradicted Azula on the beach. At least then she would have known that her brother didn’t think that she was a monster, too.

From the same chapter:

And she couldn't sleep. Until a few nights ago, when Azula found a solution in the last place she ever expected to find the solution to anything.

She didn't know what impulse drove her from her restless rest in the gray gloom of the hours before sunrise, and to Zuko's old room. It was stupid. It might have been anyone's room by now, he'd been banished for so long. He took most personal effects and anything recognizably his with him in his banishment, as Azula discovered in the first few weeks he was gone.

His chambers were sealed to the hallway, though not to the secret passages. The servants didn't even dust them anymore. Azula still slept on top of the covers, just in case. She dreamt of open doors and whispered goodbyes, of the mother she hadn't paid a thought to in years.

It was stupid. Mother only ever came here for Zuko, not the room. It's not like it had some power to summon her, or that Azula even wanted it to. Now that Zuko was gone, Mother would never come back. She was probably dead anyway. Azula certainly didn't care.

She thought she used to come to his room more often, probably when she was too young to remember. Maybe she was afraid of thunder storms, or imaginary monsters. Little did you know, she thought bitterly. Children were afraid of those things, weren't they?

Azula didn't think that she had ever been a child.

It worked. She slept. But it was still stupid. If Father came to her room and she wasn't there, if Father found out — He would think she was shirking her training, or worse, hiding from him. There was nowhere she could hide from him, and she knew how that ended for Zuko.

So why did she risk —

Azula taking refuge in Zuko’s empty room guts me. Also the line, “Azula didn’t think that she had ever been a child.” Oof!

From the same chapter:

Azula looked at her with eyes bright and dangerous as a stalking cat's, and purred, "That is an excellent question. Here's one for you: Did that have to be my last memory of my mother?" Ursa blinked confusion, and Azula clarified, "You said goodbye to Zuko. You couldn't say goodbye to me?"

It was true. An awful truth, but there it was. Ursa spoke in a small voice, "I regretted it." She thought that she had never felt so small. "Every day I wished — I wished I had opened the door. But by the time I did, when I realized what I'd done… It was already too late.

"Azula?" she questioned fearfully, when her daughter paled and laid a hand on the curve of her belly beneath the blanket. Azula looked like her mother had slapped her.

"You chose t—" Azula dropped back onto her elbow and looked away, eyes shining. "You know, if you told me you tried to come back," she said at length, "that the guards prevented you, or some—" She bit her lip hard against the words. "You could have even told me you forgot. I would have believed you."

"Can that really be what you want?" Ursa whispered in hurt amazement. "For me to lie to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Azula dismissed, voice empty when she turned away and lay back down. "You'll never change."

This is awful. My heart would be shredded if my mother said this to me.

From Chapter 27:

"I think he missed you, a little," Azula grudgingly admitted, glancing to the tent again and wondering why she couldn't just seem to walk away from what was shaping up to be a deeply uncomfortable conversation. "He would mention you sometimes in —" she stopped, just caught herself "— unguarded moments."

This is the power of the act, he said. It makes men forget themselves. It makes them reveal things about themselves they never would otherwise.

But it was too late; her mother had seen. "Your father didn't have unguarded moments," she contradicted, frowning.

He had stopped, actually stopped, when Azula went rigid, when he saw the look on her face. It was the only time in living memory her father had ever apologized to her. She thought she could guess why. Because for once, it was his weakness and not hers…

"You're right, of course," Azula spoke tightly. A smile formed on her face, reflexive. "What was I thinking?"

This makes my skin crawl, but there’s also something weirdly tender about Azula’s admission that Ozai missed Ursa and had moments of weakness. It underscores that she sees him as a human, with all of the flaws that entails, rather than a god, which is how Ozai would prefer to be seen.

From the same chapter:

"There is beauty in your power," he bent to speak harshly into her ear, and she could not help cringing. "So long as you hold it, everyone will want you."

No, she thought dully. They'll want my power. She said, "Yes, Father."

And there’s the rub. Azula wants to be wanted for who she is, not for what she represents. The only one who genuinely loves her like that is Ty Lee.

From the same chapter:

"Just tell him," Zuzu reasoned. "What can he do to you that he hasn't already done?"

She didn't speak, just reached over to brush his cheek. His skin curled and peeled like paper in a flame, to reveal the red ruin of scar tissue around his left eye. He didn't scream this time, just argued, "At least Dad never starved me."

"No," Azula whispered, or maybe only thought it, "he just banished you."

"'Zula." He stopped calling her that a long time ago. "Did you ever think," Zuko asked her seriously, "he was the punishment?"

Yeah, Azula subconsciously knows that Ozai is an abuser and might very well kill her, even if she’s in denial while waking.

From Chapter 28:

"Father —" she tried to explain, and Ursa's scowl was immediate. She didn't understand. She didn't remember. "Father didn't like me to eat festival food."

"Whyever not?" her mother spoke testily, and began to box and bag up the remaining food, unwilling to waste it. More like a peasant than a princess, the thought came to her unbidden.

Azula didn't want to lay so much as eyes on it anymore. Her gaze strayed toward the barred windows of the town jail, back the way they came. "He said it was peasant food," she explained, hugging herself 'round the (rounding) middle, and her mother scoffed.

"How ridiculous. You're a born princess, and you like it," Ursa argued matter-of-factly. "How could it be peasant food?"

"I think everyone was a peasant to him," she murmured absently, and a beat passed before Ursa burst out in peals of laughter.

Azula jumped visibly, and blushed even more visibly. She felt a smile form on her face, small and uncertain. In eight years at the palace, she had never heard her mother laugh like that.

She didn't think that she had ever made her mother laugh. Now that she had, a small, shameful part of her wanted to do it again. As much as she wanted to do it again, she feared it. Your mind is divided, my dear…

Ursa sobered a little on seeing her wordless reaction, and wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "I just — I'm sorry," she wheezed and clutched her middle. "That was just — so accurate, oh gods…" Her mother giggled helplessly. "You really have his measure."

This is just so sweet and funny! Azula also clearly wants to keep building a relationship with her mother, even though that goes against her plans.

From the same chapter:

Maybe prompted by the silence or the unusual proximity, Azula spoke quietly at last, "I'm sorry for — for embarrassing you." Ursa glanced at Azula in surprise, but her daughter was looking determinedly anywhere but at her.

"I didn't — really think you would — would — try anything," she choked out, her head ducked and face red.

What. "What?" Ursa whispered, uncomprehending. Azula's hand jumped in hers, and she let go before her daughter could feel threatened. "What would —"

But Azula spoke over her, voice halting. "I just — you can't — you can't — surprise me like that. You need to clear these things with me first."

"Sleeping arrangements?" Ursa clarified, still lost, and her daughter insisted, "Yes.

"Yes," she repeated softer, seeing Ursa's reaction.

"I don't understand." Ursa searched her. "You used to have sleepovers with your friends…"

"You're not my friend," Azula shot her down, then seemed to regret it when Ursa didn't hide her hurt quickly enough. "I didn't — I didn't mean it like that," she qualified, and held her hand out again in unspoken apology.

Ursa took it, hesitant. "You didn't like it, did you?" she realized. "When I hugged you that night we left the encampment?" Azula side-eyed her like she half-expected the question to be a trap, then shook her head mutely.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she tried to lie, a flimsy thing. "I guess I — I couldn't."

Why not? Ursa wanted to press her, but she could already feel Azula tense. She chose de-escalation. "Would you like me to ask first, before I touch you?" she offered instead, and her daughter regarded her doubtingly. "Or wait for you to initiate contact?"

"I guess, maybe — I — I don't know," Azula stammered, and Ursa squeezed her hand to reassure her.

I relate to Azula hard here, because I also struggle with setting up boundaries between myself and others. I do find it very promising that Ursa is the one who realizes that Azula has been uncomfortable and proposes some ideas to help her, rather than suggesting that Azula is the one with the problem and needs to get over it.

And that’s everything we have so far! I’m certain there will be more memorable scenes in the future for me to gush over. Later, gators!

#Dominion by Aurelia le #Azula #Fanfiction #avatar the last airbender

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In The Shadows

Miraculous Ladybug Fanfic (Lukanette Endgame)

Chapters

Prelude | Chp 1 | Chp 2 | Chp 3 | Chp 4 | Chp 5 | Chp 6 | Chp 7 | Chp 8 | Chp 9 | Chp 10 | Chp 11 | Chp 12 | Chp 13 | Chp 14 | Chp 15 | Chp 16 | Chp 17 | Chp 18 | Chp 19 | Epilogue | Worlds Not Our Own | Timeline

Chapter Four: Back Down The Rabbit Hole (AO3 Link)

Chapter Snapshot

Despite all the people around him, pushing to get down to the subway or to one of the many shops that lined the sidewalks, Luka knew that he was the one being followed. He could feel the gaze on his neck like it was a breath that whispered on his skin, a soft but vibrant warning like a tuning fork. After his first month in New York the pervasive feeling felt like the flicker of a porch light, only every once and awhile garnering his notice but slowly gaining intensity, and a few days after Marinette had left for Paris it was on him all the time.

It really had been like Roman Holiday. Marinette had been so focused on the romance of it all, the way the stars had aligned just right to make it all happen, that she had forgotten how the end of that movie went. Princess Ann knew she had to go back to her home country, that there was a sacred duty she always had to bow to, and that was why Joe Bradley drove her back to the embassy himself--even if neither of them wanted her to go. The next day at the final press conference, they stared into each other's eyes with so many things left unsaid…and that was it. Princess Ann left. And it was beautiful and bittersweet and a classic because she left and he never said a word. They didn't make promises to see each other again. Princess Ann didn't tell Joe Bradley that she would wait for him because she knew better. And that's why Princess Ann, a totally fictional character, knew more than Marinette did.

When she opened the familiar trap door to her room and lugged her suitcase through, banging it on the stairs (she probably should have taken up her father's offer to carry it for her, but she was feeling stubborn) she was hit with an overwhelming state of grief. The Kwamis swarmed around her affectionately, welcoming her home with cheery voices and she really tried to keep it all together until it was late at night, and she was in bed, staring at the same ceiling she'd been staring at since she was 5.

It was all still here. Hawkmoth and Mayura. The ever-present pressure of her secret identity and duties as the Guardian. Thoughts about the future and her career, hoping to impress and desperate to create something worthwhile. Chat Noir loving her. Her loving Adrien.

Yep. All still here.

But it hadn't been last night, had it? Last night she didn't have that all hanging over her head…she was just Marinette, a girl on a first date with a guy who didn't follow up all their conversations or hangouts with "Oh, that's just my good friend Marinette!".

Marinette's hand stole under the pillow and pulled out the Jagged Stone guitar pick Luka had given her. He'd been paying for their ice cream and about three guitar picks flew out along with his wallet, and she'd stooped to pick them up without thinking about it. Of course he'd been watching her with those careful (and somehow also carefree) eyes of his, noting that she had spent special attention to the Jagged Stone pick in particular, turning it this way and that and running her finger down the edge of it. "You should keep it," he said, smiling. "I've got the record, right? Now we'll both have something."

And she could feel it, some invisible line tying them together even an ocean away, an inerasable piece of proof that for one night Luka had been hers. Someone had been hers. And maybe, really, that's why she hadn't followed Princess Ann's peerless example. Because she needed to know someone out there loved Marinette the girl (woman), and she could keep pretending that nothing else existed.

Because this? The real world? It hurt. And it hurt more every day. The world was sitting on her shoulders, ancient powers and promises strapping it tight around her back and chest and throat until she couldn't breathe anymore, until eventually she would have the life choked out of her and nothing would matter.

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to stop. Once she started thinking about it again, the walls would start to feel like they were closing in on her and she didn't want that. When Marinette opened her eyes again and felt the clean edges of the pick, the firm but gentle give of it, she just wanted to remember Luka. Marinette wanted to believe that there would be a world where he'd text her, and she would look up and he would be there again in the middle of the street. He'd look at her like he'd run through fire just to get to where she was—like he was being pulled towards her and just couldn't help it.

Marinette turned on her other side to look at the corkboard of pictures, the scattered faces of her friends normally induced some sense of comfort…and she'd spent far too many nights staring at Adrien's face until she eventually fell asleep. She'd known just a month into her tenure as Ladybug that she had completely missed the boat on ever being in a relationship with Adrien. Besides the seeming lack of interest, being Ladybug took too much of her time in conjunction with everything else. She knew that and had tried to cool off the remnants of her crush. But really, who was Marinette when she wasn't in love with Adrien? It had been so long; she really didn't know. She felt like the dog from the Pavlov experiments. Hear Adrien's name? Daydream. Smell his cologne? Get dizzy. See Adrien's face? Drool.

Looking at it from a distance she had to start to wonder if her crush was just a way to fill the remaining time she had during the day, without ever having to wonder about the repercussions of if he decided he liked her back and wanted to date. Because that wasn't ever going to happen.

But this, she thought staring at the guitar pick, maybe this could happen. It could catch like wildfire and engulf her before she knew which way was up. Luka had asked if she would wait for him, hadn’t he? He’d come for her someday soon, right? Marinette threw the covers over her face and tried in vain to sleep. Eventually her eyes slid closed, finally catching on to the fact that she really was tired, even though her brain was having a hard time getting the memo. When she finally drifted off, her brain weaved merry alternative universes that she would be left to dissect in the morning.

The one she clung to, revisiting over and over in a desperate (pathetic) attempt not to forget, was one where she took Audrey Bourgeois up on her offer to work under her as a fledgling designer in New York. She got on the helicopter with her (after a daring scene where she found Hawk Moth and Mayura and demanded their Miraculouses back with a "pretty please" and they handed them over, with the other two lost Miraculouses to boot). Marinette became the freshest designer whose creations hit the runway, and after her incredible success she went out to celebrate, and there Luka was, standing outside the venue like he'd been waiting for her to show up all his life. And they were happy. The End. Neat and tidy.

And because that's what she wanted, that's what the universe was determined not to give her. Instead, it had been a full three days and Luka still hadn't texted her and she was trying to be the bigger person about it (because hadn't she said that she'd wait? And hadn't she also decided it shouldn't ever happen anyway?). But she was still Marinette--she was still breathing and laughing and seeing her friends and working her butt off on her portfolio. Marinette might be a clumsy mess of a girl, but she was never down for long.

She was caught trying to remind herself of that when she was 3 days behind schedule and had knots the size of baseballs in her shoulders. Nothing screamed "Marinette" like panic sewing at 2 in the morning while occasionally whimpering like the white rabbit, a constant string of "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late," coming out of her mouth. If she didn't have this outfit ready for the rock n' roll shoot she was planning for her portfolio, a domino effect of hell would inevitably be launched.

Not able to finish the fantasy outfits because of all the time she spent on this stupid rock n' roll shoot? Then all the effort her friends put into creating the scenery for her would be wasted and they would hate her, and her portfolio would be weak, and Adrien would wince before handing it to Gabriel. Gabriel would laugh and rip the photos to shreds, telling her he would never consider recommending her for the Lanvin apprenticeship because she was clearly inferior, and Adrien would be sad that he put his name on the line for her and she messed it up--she'd never become a designer and would end up broke and destitute and living in a van down by the river and then someone would steal the Miracle Box from her and the whole universe was REALLY riding on the fact that she could sew this DAMN leather together in time--

The black cat pager that sat on her desk began to vibrate wildly, the sound of it interrupting the monologue of doom in her head. "Not now! Why now! I can't go now!!" she moaned. And yet despite herself, Marinette was already throwing down her half-assembled outfit, scrambling to stop the stupid pager from vibrating.

Tikki had perked up from Marinette's pillow on her bed, wiping at an eye with one of her flippers. "Marinette? Do you need me?" she asked blearily.

Marinette huffed, slamming the pager back down on her desk. "Yes, I'm sorry--sounds like there's trouble," she said. "Ready?"

Tikki nodded, and in a flash of pink Marinette was Ladybug, leaping and bounding through the cool Parisian fall night. She flipped open her yo-yo to check Chat Noir's location--across the museum by the Eiffel Tower, on Av. Franco-Russe. She put in an extra burst of speed. The avenue was tight, the backs of buildings facing each other stoically, and wrought-iron balconies and dark windows lined the road. Chat was lounging on a long, squat red-brick garage, waving at her with a wide smile. She landed next to him with a thump, the shock going straight to her knees, before looking around wildly.

"Alright kitty, where's the fire?" It was peaceful, quiet--no sound but the wind blowing through the leaves of the tall tree behind the garage.

Chat lopped up gracefully and bowed, "No fire, besides the burning of my heart to see you--"

"CHAT NOIR! It's two in the morning!!" Ladybug hissed, grabbing him by one of the cat ears on his head. She could never be sure if they functioned like actual ears, but they moved according to his moods, so she supposed he must be able to feel it.

"Ow, hey! I didn't just call you for cracker jacks and tiddlywinks, I promise!" He shook his ear out from her pinched fingers and rubbed his head with a pout. "Plagg couldn't sleep. He wanted to know if you managed to find the Snake Miraculous holder--you didn't stick around after the show the other day."

Any remnants of anger were flushed out of her and replaced by a flash of guilt. She hadn’t seen Chat Noir since the day she found the bane of her existence in New York and had totally lost to him. Not something she liked to ruminate on. "Oh. Right. I'm sorry about that." Ladybug sighed and motioned for him to come and sit on the edge of the garage facing the tree.

"You looked upset. Is everything okay?"

She wondered if she'd ever be able to answer that question with "why yes, everything's just swell!" and not have it be a lie. Chat Noir's deep green eyes were like emerald pools, staring back at her with every emotion she couldn’t handle right now. Love, adoration, concern, hope--couldn't handle it in herself or anyone else. Ladybug sighed. "No, it's…definitely not okay. I'm feeling pretty overwhelmed right now. And whoever the holder of the Snake Miraculous is, they are way above my skill level. I couldn’t even touch them."

A frown flashed on Chat Noir's face, offended on her behalf. "I can't imagine that--you're incredible."

"Not like this guy--I mean, you should have been there, it was like he wasn't even trying." That was probably the most frustrating part. Every move he could counter, every step she took it was like he was reading her mind. She wasn't that predictable, was she?

Chat Noir shifted slightly on the ledge, head down. "I could've been, you know," he mumbled sullenly. He looked up at her from under his light brown eyelashes, clarifying when she looked confused. "I could have been there with you."

Ladybug shook her head resolutely. "I needed you here. If both of us were gone, who would've protected Paris? If we hadn't gotten back in time, who knows what kind of damage Hawk Moth or Mayura could have done. Anyway, I don't know if it would have done any good. I know the Snake Miraculous gives the holder the ability to turn back time, but I never once saw him go for his bracelet. He didn't even look slightly ruffled at anything I threw at him."

Chat processed that for a moment, one finger on his lips, before turning to her. "So you managed to find him and he immediately picked a fight with you?"

She winced. "Uh. Well. Not exactly."

A wicked grin spread on his face. "You picked the fight with him."

"What else was I supposed to do!" She threw her arms in the air. "I've got to get the damn thing back somehow!"

"Ahh, bugaboo," Chat Noir tsk'd with a self-satisfied look on his face, tapping her nose with one clawed finger. "This is why you need me around to be impulsive for you, so you can think! Did you even get to see if he was a bad guy before you started conking him on the head with your yo-yo?"

"Oh, he's definitely a bad guy. No questions about that. He's clearly using the Miraculous for personal reasons." It still pissed her off thinking about it. In her mind's eye she could see him, one foot on his bounty and that damn grin on his face with that sarcastic 'gotta eat' attitude (that's not exactly what happened, but the longer she thought about it the more it became reality).

Chat Noir chuckled and reclined back, laying down to stare at the stars. His belt/tail was swaying contently off the building. "Well, what's the next plan of attack? How can I help?"

"There is no plan of attack, at least not yet. If I found him once I can find him again, but I've got too much going on to do much more than stew on it for a few weeks." Her eyelids were starting to give out on her--exhaustion didn't even begin to cover it. She'd thrown herself into a work frenzy just to stop thinking about when Luka might text her. If he ever did at all. Maybe she should count her blessings and assume the whole thing was over with.

Ladybug felt Chat Noir's hand cover her own. He had sat up again, cat eyes scanning her features in the darkness. "It'll be alright, milady. We'll figure it out."

She gave him her best imitation of a smile. "Thanks. I should get going," she said, gently pulling her hand from his. She needed the comfort but letting Chat Noir do it seemed wrong when she knew how he felt about her. She never wanted to lead him on. "Tell Plagg I'm sorry. That I couldn't do more."

Ladybug didn't wait for his response before whizzing away, yo-yo pulling her up and over an apartment building. There was still too much to be done for her to be sitting around.

Luka drifted through the heavily crowded sidewalk, deftly ignoring any shoves to the shoulder as passersby rushed past him, dodging where he could and taking the beating elsewise. Despite everyone's insistence on personal space in New York, it didn't stop you from getting body chucked if you were in the way. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the concrete jungle as the sun began to set, human chatter the only animal sounds that could be heard. Trash flittered to and from as it was kicked under foot, bobbing in the turbulent air currents.

It might have been the Ladybug holder, but that didn't seem to match up with her outright hostility and seeming preference to just try and punch the daylights out of him. No, this was something else. Something far more sinister and much slier, and he hoped to resolve his business in New York so that he didn't drag the problem with him to Paris. He put up with the persistent tingle on his neck while he found somewhere to eat and let it follow him to the hotel while the dark curtain of night stole over the city, bright LED screens and neon lighting up along buildings with each passing minute, ads for Coca Cola and Ralph Lauren blasting the populace of the city.

Once in the hotel, no sooner had the door closed than Luka was quickly shucking off his hoodie and digging through the duffel bag at the end of the bed. Sass flew down to his eye level. "Are you ssure you will be alright?" he hissed out, eyes darting nervously to the door and back to Luka.

Luka smiled grimly as he changed into a dark button-up with light gray patterned swirls. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about this one. Feels different, doesn't it?" he said, roughly rolling the sleeves of his shirt to expose his forearms. Maybe he just felt like that because he had more to lose, or because he’d been in this exact situation before and had seen how it ended.

"It doesss."

They had been through this a few times before. Someone, somehow, would find out about the power of the bracelet—few of them knew exactly what power he had, just that he had it and they wanted it for themselves. Mostly he had gotten several offers to use the power for ill with all manner of promises of rewards that never seemed appealing. Or just threats to join them "or else". Regardless, he dealt with it, just like he'd deal with this now. Whoever it was behind this was acting too intelligently to just be some thug looking for a new minion--this was someone who knew exactly who he was and was smart enough to sit back and assess him. This was someone with time and resources to spare.

"Well, it's best we deal with it as soon as we can. I don't want the problem following us--especially if there are more Miraculouses in France that they would want to scoop up."

"That doesss sseem prudent." Sass acquiesced, floating to his holder's shoulder. The two appraised each other in the large bathroom mirror, their reflections regarding them back. Luka tweaked at his shirt collar and tucked Mullo's Miraculous in the shirt.

"I'll be honest, I think after…after the last time we tried to find…well, you know." Luka swallowed thickly as if that could push away the memories. "Neither of us came away from that very…" his brain searched for the right word. "Hopeful."

Sass's dark green pupils and green sclerae bored into Luka's reflection in the mirror. "You are right. Neither of usss has been the ssame ssince. I wissh to ssee you happy, Luka. I have not sseen you sso lighthearted in many yearsss..." Luka didn't need to ask what he was referencing. He could still feel the weight of Marinette’s hand in his. "You were not made for darknessss."

Luka fidgeted with the other bracelets around his wrist, feeling a slight burn when the friction tugged on his skin. It didn't do much good to imagine his life without Sass, probably because it would have ended quickly and unpleasantly; instead, he found himself thinking about what it would have been like to have been born later, during Marinette's time, growing up in France as just a normal teenage boy. He couldn't imagine what that looked like, either. Too different. Too odd. This was his life, and he was bound to it, and he was bound to deal with power-hungry egotists. Nothing could be done about it.

"We'll deal with this quickly, then. Figure out who's tailing us, keep watch over the boy, and cure Mullo. We'll head to Paris once we're done."

Sass nodded, perhaps a little regretfully at the weight of the mission on Luka's shoulders. Rather than hide on Luka's person the snake took to the bracelet, his body becoming one with the metal with nothing to show for it but a few green sparks. Luka turned from the bathroom mirror and left the meager hotel room, the ever-present eyes on him returning as soon as he stepped into the street.

The Pit wasn't too far away, just a few blocks north from the hotel, its blue and black exterior splashing across the street. A line of young adults streamed around the outside of the double doors like the flickering tongue of a snake. Wild dance music threatened to escape the front doors but left nothing except the bass of the beat, vibrating through his bones. Luka waited with the rest of them, arms crossed as he surveyed around for a minute, pretending to casually people watch.

After ruling out the Ladybug holder as the eyes on his back, he half suspected the culprit to be the man who’d given him his job tonight. If he was the one following him, Luka couldn’t spot him. Whoever it was, Luka wanted to shake them off--maybe not for good, but long enough to see if he could try to find who it was before he headed into a potential trap. There was no way to know if this job and the watched feeling were related, but even if they weren’t he would at least be offered a chance to try and see who was tailing him before carrying that trouble with him.

The bouncer waved him in when he finally reached the front, taking the $20 Luka gave him and shoving it through the door of a lockbox attached to the building. Luka weaved inside, immediately beset with loud pop and splashes of color in the dark. If they were intent on trapping him, they wouldn't risk losing him. They would follow him inside. Luka scanned the groups around the edge of the dancefloor, wisps of a plan coming together in his mind to get himself into the women’s bathroom, through the windows, and out of the club undetected.

Luka scanned the club from the second floor, eyes occasionally drawn back to the DJ on stage that had taken over for the live band, but more often falling to the swarm of people below. Attentiveness like this had become a habit, nearly a hobby. A swanky staccato beat began to take over the club, lights flashing blue and red, and young adults began stomping and gyrating to Soft Cell’s patented 80’s synthwave. A lanky boy in a ripped black tank top showing off the lean muscle in his arms walked in through the front. Messy brown hair nearly touched amber eyes that roved in a long and thin face, hollow cheekbones framing a dissatisfied frown.

The boy’s eyes caught something across the way and the frown wavered for a moment. He paused, the sure swagger he’d previously had slowed, and Luka unconsciously followed his eyesight to a man across the club. Something passed between them, although he couldn’t quite see what—and the boy suddenly spun on his heel, amber eyes doing quick frantic rounds until he caught Luka’s eye. He pushed through the crowd towards the stairs and took them two at a time.

To the left of the door was a group of rowdy, beefed-up college guys at a table, shouting over the music and jostling each other. Luka moved close enough to be in eyesight of the frat boy in the center, biceps the size of footballs and a tacky political t-shirt that made it fairly clear how he'd feel about his admittedly flimsy scheme. It should work, though, as directly across the dance floor on the other wall was the woman he hoped would be his willing savior.

Right as the man’s eyes slid over to Luka, Luka waved coquettishly with the tips of his fingers and winked. Thick brows turned down when he realized what had just happened, and Luka quickly turned and hightailed it to the highly attentive girl on the other side of the club--who had luckily only seen what he'd wanted her to. Boy walks in, gets a horrific and angry-looking glare from a guy 3 times his size, and then runs for his life.

Luka blinked in surprise at the urgency the boy was running toward him with, and he quickly turned his head to check on the man from across the club. He stood and began pushing his way through the crowd, eyes on the boy that was running towards him. So he was in trouble, then? The boy closed the few feet gap between them, throwing a hand on Luka’s shoulder, a wild smile on his face.

“In a spot of trouble, care to assist?” he asked without preamble, amber eyes flashing an unrestrained urgency.

Luka wasn’t in the habit of refusing anyone a helping hand. The man had paused at the foot of the stairs, an irate bull stopped by an invisible barrier. “Uh, yeah, I can help,” he said, suddenly feeling the weight of the bracelet on his wrist.

The boy regarded him with a tight but amused smile, then lightly slapped Luka’s cheek twice amicably. “Good. Nothin’ personal.”

Luka had just enough time to wonder if he thought the slaps had hurt before the boy’s lips smashed onto his, frantic and rough, pushing him back half a step. The boy broke it off first, turning his body to face the bull at the bottom of the stairs, flipping him an offensive backhanded peace sign. The man’s nostrils flared, and he began to force his way up the stairs—and the boy grabbed Luka’s arm with a wild laugh and began to drag him in a race across the second-story loft.

As he hoped, the girl's face was drawn into a concerned frown as she peeked around the exultant dancers in the center to watch the interaction. Her natural hair framed her face like a halo around smooth, deep brown skin, gold highlighter bouncing off her cheeks as she turned her head this way and that. A wary hand with long nails was draped over her the top of her drink. Luka caught her eye and she nodded, slightly, moving her drink to her left when he came up to her right.

"Baby, what kind of spell did you whip up on him?" she asked, deep purple lips barely moving as she watched the man he'd just royally pissed off.

"Toxic masculinity can really work a number on a guy," Luka said as he caught his breath.

She made a clucking sound with her tongue. "Uh-huh." The man in question was still staring daggers in Luka's direction, deciding if he should stomp over and demand an explanation for the unwanted advance.

"Any chance you know an escape route that's not directly through the front door?" He asked, leaning against the table and tapping his fingers nervously. "I'd use the windows in the men's room, but, ah, I believe that would be ill-advised." The man was handing his beer to one of his friends.

The woman gave him a long glance up and down before shaking her head and standing, several inches taller than him in her yellow stilettos. She downed her drink in one and set it on the table, readjusting her cardigan before taking his hand. Luka followed her through the throngs of young adults while the pop music transformed into a stuttering drumbeat with a keening electric guitar, a woman's voice moaning in pleasure before erupting into song. Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end--

Luka looked behind him, pretending to check for the advancing bull. There was a blond woman watching him cross the club, finger running just beneath her lips, a couple whose eyes met his occasionally while they danced, a man at the bar in a clean white button-up… Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend, you crack the whip, shape-shift and trick the past again--

The woman guiding him pushed through a throng of girls outside the women's restroom and pulled him inside, ignoring the giggles and pointed glances. One girl sloppily applying mascara in the restroom yipped when she saw him before blushing and turning back to the mirror. His savior let go of his hand and stepped up on the bright pink upholstered armchair that was tucked in the corner, heel digging into the cushion while she shoved open the window.

Luka breathed a sigh of relief and offered her his hand to help her get back down, hopping up gracefully in her place. "You're a godsend." Luka shot a sheepish grin first at her and then the gaggle of girls that had just walked in.

"Gotta stick together, right?" She asked, watching him hoist himself up through the window.

They burst out the door to the second-story patio together, breathless and frantic. The boy grabbed his arm again, pulling him past groups of friends and a couple that was definitely doing more than having a make-out session. He was dragged over to the back and realized there was a fire escape ladder that led into the dark alley. The boy waggled his eyebrows at him, eyes aglitter with mischief, then spun around to slide down it. The door to the patio slammed open again, and that was all the prompting Luka needed to bolt down after him.

“What’d you do that for?” Luka asked when his feet hit the pavement, waving his hand slightly in a half approximation of the peace sign. In trying not to pant too hard from the chase his nose was overwhelmed with the heavy scent of trash and sex that permeated the alley. “And what did you do to him in the first place?”

The boy flashed him another wild grin, spinning around in the alleyway as he made his way towards the main street. “Thought it was funny. Ponce looked right pissed, didn’t he? As for the other thing,” he ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth lavishly. “Maybe I’ll teach you sometime.”

Luka knelt by the window for a moment, waving to the girls in the bathroom with a genuine smile on his face before taking off. Either his pursuer was a woman, or he'd hear shrieks of drunken outrage if a man burst into the women's restroom 'uninvited'. Luka tucked himself behind a dumpster, whispering the words that ignited his transformation. Whoever was tailing him would be looking for him now. Luka jumped halfway up the building and quickly scaled it, gloved fingertips working quickly to find holds. He swung his legs up the roof and spun around to silently sneak his way to the corner of the building where he could watch both the main street and the alleyway he'd escaped out of.

They had found him out quicker than he expected. A clean-cut man in a white button-up and slacks with roman features and perfectly coiffed hair darted out of the club and rounded the corner, looking up and down the alley. Luka watched the man clench and then unclench his jaw, pacing a short circuit in the alley before pulling a phone out of his pocket. After a few angry perfunctory taps, he brought the phone up to his ear.

"He knows," was all the man said. He continued his pacing and looked over his shoulder a few times while he listened to the person on the other end. "No--stay the course." A moment, and the man grit his teeth. "I'm aware." He hung up the phone, slid it back into his pocket, and stood still with his hands on his hips. Without warning, he spun around and kicked the dumpster. The dense metal clanged viciously in the alley, echoing off the walls with the man's heavy breathing. Luka took that as his cue to leave.

#in the shadows mlb #lukanette #alternate universe #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #adrien agreste #Nat's Monster In The Box #normally i use free stock images for the banners but uh #f it theyre actors #oc's continue to pop up like daisies #i cant help it the world is full of people

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kuroos-moon · 4 years

Text

Jealous Fuck Buddy Kiyoomi

☀︎︎ Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

☀︎︎ Alternate prompt: Jealous Fuck Buddy Satori

☀︎︎ Wc: 3.8 k words

☀︎︎ Genre: smut with fluff at the end

☀︎︎ Warnings: nsfw, public sex, degradation, oral (f receiving), bit of angst

Both of your pants and shaky breaths fill his bedroom after having chased each other’s high. It was early in the morning, an hour before practice starts and you gently run your fingers through his dark curls which were slightly moist with his sweat. He rests on top of you, recovering his breath as he litters sloppy kisses on your neck, adoring you for how good you take him in, you always do.

You were in a no strings attached relationship, yes it was untypical of Sakusa to have such a relationship with you but he knew you were clean. He eyed you head to toe the moment you were introduced as their new manager and he likes how you sanitized your hands regularly and wore a mask, but more than that, he loves your personality.

He knew he was in love with you from the moment you scolded Bokuto for touching his things, telling him “to respect Sakusa’s germaphobe tendencies,” but somehow you were always sweet to everyone, as much as he wanted you to be more than just a fuck buddy, he couldn’t risk your rejection, so he forced himself to be content with it, at least he knew you weren’t fucking other guys, right?

“Oomi, we still have practice to attend to,” you mumble as you kiss the top of his head and he lazily pushes himself off you. “Was I too rough?” He asks, his voice filled with concern when you wince as you were about to get up. “Rougher than usual I’d say,” you chuckle as you cup his face in your hand and give him a small peck on the cheek.

It devastated you that you were mere fuck buddies, every single day, you’d fall deeper for him. He was always caring with you wherever you both were; may it be inside the walls of his bedroom after he just mercilessly pounded into you or while you were hanging out as his team’s manager.

He stood naked before you as you sat at the edge of his bed, eyeing the masterpiece called Sakusa Kiyoomi. He was ripped in all aspects, and you blush as you remember what miracles his big member made you experience, how his fingers so skillfully made you moan his name, made you beg for more of him.

“Like what you see?” He smugly asks as he stares down at you and you merely click your tongue in mock annoyance, “as if,” you deny, making him roll his eyes. It sums up your whole dynamic, you’d whisper the most loving things to each other as you satisfy each other’s needs, but after that, your conversations were a non-stop teasing and denying how you love fucking each other.

“Come on, I’ll clean you up,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take and you look at him in surprise. He has never asked you to take a shower with him before. “What? Too painful to stand?” He asks, and you swear you hear slight irritation in his voice when you don’t take his hand.

Without waiting for you to say anything, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other behind your back as he carries you to his bathroom, making you slap his chest. “At least warn me before hoisting me up,” you hiss at him and for the nth time that morning, he rolls his eyes at you.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

They were on break, and Hinata, Bokuto and Atsumu were sat on the floor as he stood a foot away from them and near the wall. He follows your figure as you make your way over and sit beside Atsumu, his eyes narrowing. He always noticed how the both of you were particularly close, closer than everyone else in the team- even your fans notice, they always had some silly conspiracy that you were going out with Atsumu.

As mature as he was to simply ignore such rumors, he couldn’t help but get easily irked at every interaction you make with the flirtatious blonde.

“Y/n why couldn’t you go out with me last night?” Atsumu asks you with a pout, “I wasn’t feeling well, I told you,” you lie and Sakusa raises a brow at you in an ‘are you kidding me?’ manner. Why do you even have plans with him at night? And what kind of excuse was that? Not feeling well? From what he recalls, he made you feel too well last night as he made you cum again and again, on his face, in his mouth and on his fat cock as he filled you up.

“Y/n you didn’t tell me you’re on the dating phase with Tsumu already!” Bokuto whines, and Sakusa had to hold back a scoff. “We’re not,” you say with a laugh, “We’re not? Was it all nothing to you babe?” Atsumu asks you in fake hurt, everyone knew it was a joke but Kiyoomi just wanted to kick the back of his head in annoyance.

“Of course we aren’t,” you pinch his cheek, “that was a one night thing, babe,” you tease and everyone, including you, froze at what you said; more importantly, Sakusa felt a wave of sudden irritation, jealousy and betrayal all at once as he processed what you said, and judging from how you reacted after you let that slip, your words were true. So you’ve already fucked Atsumu, he thought as he inhales a sharp breath, trying to calm himself down.

“WHAT Y/N WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Hinata exclaims as you bury your face in your hands, scolding yourself for your stupidity while Atsumu just chuckles at you with a smug look on his face. “ATSUMU WHAT DOES SHE MEAN?” Bokuto asks and you groan because you know they won’t let this go; and catching the look on Sakusa’s eyes, you were actually afraid he was gonna end whatever you guys have.

“We fucked,” Atsumu shrugs and you slap his shoulder, your eyes narrowing at him and he just smirks as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t say it was a one time thing y/n,” he teases. “We did it a lot of times, didn’t we? Until the sun came up,” he chuckles at how red you were. Frustrated at him, you march off with a huff, going inside the locker room.

Sakusa took this as his chance to talk to you but he stops in his tracks when Atsumu follows you inside. He could practically feel his eye twitch as his patience for the blonde ran out. Not caring anymore if anyone finds out about your little arrangement, he also enters the locker room, and he swears that a nerve within him snaps at such an annoyingly filthy sight before him.

“You’re not so smug now, are you babe?” you slur at Atsumu who was seated at the bench, his arms around your waist as you sit on his lap, teasing him with how close your lips were. You shift your eyes to Kiyoomi who had just entered the room, and you immediately pull away from Atsumu.

Not that you were both exclusive to each other, you just somehow don’t want him to think you like someone else. “Wow, I’m really sorry to interrupt,” Sakusa says in a low voice as he looks coldly at you, half of his face covered with a mask.

“Uh- n-no, you weren’t interrupting anything,” you nervously say and he merely narrows his eyes at you before leaving the locker room. You felt chills run down your spine, he was absolutely terrifying and cold, something you never expected him to be when it came to you. “What’s his deal?” the oblivious blonde asks you and you just groan.

“Oomi,” you call as you follow him outside and the other players just look at the both of you. He ignores your attempts to get his attention as he walks away, he was just so pissed at you, the image of you in another’s arms, your lips that close, “Kiyoomi,” you say again as you finally caught his wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” he glares, making you shiver. He was scary, even the others who watched you two didn’t want to be at the receiving end of such a hostile glare. “No, why are you mad? Don’t be mad,” you say, holding his hand with both of yours just incase he’ll want to pull away.

“I said don’t touch me with those filthy hands,” he says in a calm voice as he pulls his hand away from you. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!” You shout at him in frustration. “If you’re mad about something, you better tell me, stop acting so-” you yelp when he hoists you up over his shoulder.

“Oomi, what the fuck, put me down,” you slap his back but he ignores you. Without saying a word, he carries you inside the now filled locker room, and the boys look at you in surprise. Putting you down, you glare at his sudden actions and he simply gives you a side glance before he makes his way to his locker.

Grabbing a towel and some change of clothes, he makes his way back in front of the team and beside you. “No one better enter the shower,” he glares at all of them with a serious face. "bUT wHyyyY?” Atsumu whines and Sakusa sharply looks at him with narrowed eyes. “I need a good fuck, that’s why,” he deadpans before he drags you to the showers, with you looking down in embarrassment at Sakusa’s words as the players fell silent, surprised and confused by his behavior.

He pushes you to the wall, placing his hand momentarily behind your back so it wouldn’t hurt you. The shower was running, with water trickling down his back as he hungrily kisses your lips, not caring if he made them swell as he sucks on your bottom lip, biting on it as he slightly pulls away before he meets your lips again, shoving in his tongue, hoping you’d know how much it hurt him to see you that close with someone else.

A hand tightly grips you waist as the other cups your cheek, pulling you closer and not giving you a chance to catch your breath as he kisses you. His kisses slowly leave your lips, traveling towards your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses there before you tilt your head to grant him access to your neck, arousal built up inside you as you press your thighs together.

“Oomii, ah,” you moan, the dark-haired boy ruthlessly sucking on your neck as if he wants to mark you as his. His hands trace the sides of your stomach before he moves them up your breasts, wanting to touch every bit of you because they are his to touch.

Your moans were driving him insane and he wanted to shove his throbbing cock inside you, but you simply needed to be punished first. He gives you a short kiss on the lips before he pulls away from you, the icy look in his eyes were back. He pulls your arms which were gripping his shoulders away from him, “you think you deserve to touch me?” He asks, the dark look never leaving his eyes and with the way he was being, you can’t help but feel more turned on. He was mad about Atsumu, he was jealous, and his reaction made you somewhat pleased.

“You’re jealous Oomi,” you tease him, pulling your arms away from his hold as you cup his cheeks with both your hands. “You’re a filthy little slut aren’t you?” He hums as he leans into your touch, closing his eyes, before he opens them to look at you again, now filled with lust. “Don’t you dare touch me unless I tell you to,” he commands as he sank down on his knees, one hand gripping both your wrists behind you tightly.

You shiver as he kisses your lower stomach, slowly going south, looking up at you as you anticipated for his mouth to be where you needed it most, making him scoff at you. He hooks your left leg up his shoulder, exposing him to your wet and needy cunt, clenching around nothing. He kisses your inner thigh, sucking gently on your skin, placing his tongue anywhere but there.

“Oomii, ah, please,” you beg, as you resist his hold on your wrists, wanting to touch his hair and guide him to where he should be. “Please what? He asks, pretending to be oblivious to your needs, continuing to harass your skin with his mouth, making you whine again. He blows lightly on your cunt, making you let out another moan. “Please what?” He repeats, looking up at you as you try to catch your breath while you look at him, down on his knees, your leg over his shoulder- he was too painfully close to your cunt, you wanted him to eat you out so badly.

“Fuck me, please, make me cum,” you beg him and he raises a brow at you. “Wouldn’t you rather have Atsumu do it love?” He taunts and as you were about to complain about how he was being a dick, he rubs his thumb over your clit and he enjoyed how you tensed as you raise your head in pleasure. “Look at me y/n,” he commands and you do so. “Let me see when I ruin you without even having me inside,” the side of his lips slightly tugs upward in a smile that didn’t mean any good.

He shoves a finger inside of you, his eyes never leaving your face as you moaned and begged for more before he inserts another finger in, thrusting in and out inside of you at a slow pace, shoving them knuckles-deep inside, slightly curling them against you tight walls, before he pulls them out, sucking on his fingers to taste your juice.

“So wet for me,” he mutters before he finally brings his lips to your cunt, sucking gently on your folds before he slowly and teasingly slides his tongue from your entrance and up your clit, “Fuck, Oomi,” you moan, your arms still trying to resist his hold which only encouraged him to tighten his grip, forgetting the fact that he might bruise you.

His tongue skillfully flicks at your clit, rubbing his wet muscle against it, the friction making the knot in your lower abdomen tighten as you can’t seem to stop yourself from moaning his name like it’s the only name you know. He knew you were close, so he doesn’t stop, instead he shoves his fingers knuckles-deep back inside of you, thrusting in and out, matching the pace of his tongue which circled your clit.

“Oomi, nggh, baby, fuck, ah I- I’m about to,” and he simply hums in approval, his dick twitching at the pretty sounds you make. He takes away his fingers, replacing your inside with his tongue, his thumb rubbing against your clit instead. He always likes to taste you, you were simply so addicting and he will never get enough. “Oomi,” you gasp, letting out a shaky breath, the pleasure overwhelming you with his tongue eating you out like that, with one last cry of his name, you finally cum on him.

Your knees were weak as you catch your breath as you panted heavily while Sakusa was busying himself with slurping your cum in his mouth. He gently places your leg back down from his shoulder before he stands on his full height, towering over you. Sakusa wraps an arm around you waist, the other still tightly holding your wrists together behind your back as he kisses you hungrily.

He rests his forehead against yours and looks at you when you pull away, “let go of my arms I wanna touch you,” you say with a pout. He does as you say and you instantly wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his and shoving your tongue in his mouth as you run your fingers through his damp curls.

He doesn’t break the kiss as he slightly lowers himself to place his arm below your ass, lifting you up before you wrap your legs around his waist. “Oomi you’re so hard for me,” you say in between pants as he sucks on you neck, his hard cock pressed at the bottom of your thigh. “I won’t be so gentle this time, y/n,” he groans as you take him in your hand, giving him a stroke.

“but Oomi I’m still sore,” you say but you let out a loud wince when he readjusts you and enters his cock inside of you. With an arm wrapped around your waist and your back leaning on the wall, he slowly pulls out before slamming back into you, flooding your system with pain. Sakusa was never gentle, that’s why he gave you the best nights- sometimes mornings- of your life; but right now, he wasn’t being considerate at all.

He pounds inside of you, occasional groans escaping his throat, getting lost at the feeling of your tight walls around him. Soon enough, you get used to the pain as you clench yourself around him, waves of pleasure dawning onto you with every thrust he makes, balls-deep inside of you.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, the shower room filled with his silent and soft moans in contrast to your loud ones. You bite his shoulder as you remember that there are people outside who could hear you, but Sakusa didn’t take that too well. He wants them to hear you, he wants Atsumu to hear how good he’s fucking you.

You let out another scream as he rolls his pelvis, roughly thrusting into you again as his fat cock presses against just the right spot, its veins against your wet walls. “Oomi, ah, please, they’re outside,” you pant, your chest aggressively rising and falling as he fucked you so good. “Do you even want me to stop?” He huskily whispers against your ear as you feel his sharp breaths. “Or do you really not want that filthy little runt to know how good I make you feel y/n, is that it?” He asks, his tone icy as he sped up his pace, leaving you a moaning mess as tears rolled down your cheeks- both of pain and pleasure.

You couldn’t even form the right words, you were in such a bliss. “Does he fuck you better y/n? Do you scream louder for him?” He growls, his thrusts getting more aggressive as his need for more of you gets mixed up with the jealousy he felt. “N-no,” you moan, tugging at his hair as you feel your second orgasm near. “Only you Oomi, ah, only you, I swear fuck,” you hiss, locking your ankles together, “Oomi, I’m cumming, ah, Oomi, Oomi,” you repeatedly moan his name, “don’t cum without me,” he commands, wanting you to be at his mercy a little longer. He was really so pissed about having found out you’ve already fucked Atsumu, and to add to the flame, he even walks in on the both of you in that position.

“You’re such a disloyal little slut you know that?” He says in your ear, his deadly voice only making you want to cum even more. “Why would you turn to someone else when I already fuck you this good,” he lets out another groan, as he feels himself about to cum into you as well. You choke out a sob, it was all too much, the painful pleasure, your sore muscles, it was too much to handle that your head was getting clouded. If he heard that sob sometime else when he wasn’t blinded by jealousy and anger, he would’ve been concerned.

“It was before you Oomi, ah, before I- I even met you,” you answer him through your slight sobs and he felt somewhat guilty at that. “Cum for me, angel,” he sighs, pressing an apologetic kiss on your neck as he lets out a loud groan before he releases inside of you simultaneously as you cum. You both heavily pant, you’re back on your feet as you bury your face on his chest, leaning on him for support while he securely hugs you against him.

The guilt of how rough he had been with you now catching up on him as he kisses the top of your head, he sighs as he strokes your hair, dragging you backwards with him so that the both of you could feel the cold water running from the shower. Pulling you away from him, he plants a small kiss on your lips, looking at your eyes for any sign of resentment for how he had been earlier.

“I’m so sorry y/n, does it hurt?” He asks you, caressing your cheek. He had always been rough with you in the past but it was never without your approval, he would always listen to you if you were in pain and he’d be worried unlike a while ago.

He frowns a bit when you don’t respond to him, so he continues on taking care of you. Washing your hair, cleaning your body, he gulps down in guilt as he sees the slight bruise that had formed in your wrist and how he has covered your neck with so many hickeys. He wouldn’t even blame you if you hated him.

“Carry me Oomi,” you say with a pout, stretching out your arms to him. He was surprised, it was the first time you spoke to him again. You were both now dressed and dry, still inside the now empty locker room. He doesn’t say a word as he lifts you up in his arms bridal-style and you rest you head against his chest.

“You could relax, I’m not mad at you,” you let out a breath of contentment, having been cradled in his arms. He still doesn’t say anything as he places you down the front seat of his car, crouching down and making sure you wouldn’t hit your head; you were clearly worn out, he had been fucking you last night, this morning and a while ago after all.

He was pulled from his thoughts when you cup his cheek in your hand, his eyes meeting yours. “I love you Oomi, I really do,” you tell him and his eyes widen, his lips slightly part behind his mask as he waits for you to say something that would disappoint the hope he felt at your words. “And I think we should end whatever this is,” you sigh. “I’ll only love you more, you know? and I know you don’t-”

“I love you too,” he blurts out, not wanting to hear your none-sense about how your love for him was one-sided, as he tugs down his mask and kisses your forehead. “I’ll take you home with me tonight, okay? I’ll take care of you, I’m sorry for being so rough,” he sighs.

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

Text

Mystery Prompts: Category 1: 23, M. Category 2: D, 98. Fandom: X-men. Character: Wolverine. Prompt List D. Sensory Prompt: ‘Warm water rushing over your body’. (Did not use genre pick for this one).

Premise: After a rather intense and exhausting day, the reader opens up to Logan a little bit, before breaking down when alone. The next day, he finally admits why he cares so much.

Requested by: @destynelseclipsa (this was the first option you sent in)

Pairing: Logan/Wolverine x Gen!Neutral Reader

Triggers: Very brief mentions of fighting, as well as mentions of emotional exhaustion, and hatred (towards mutants in this case), and crying. (I swear it has a happy ending)

Words: 2.5k

Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @thebookbakery, @groovyfluxie, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13

Note: This started out as a simple short oneshot and then it just kept going lmao

You sighed as you finally walked back into the mansion, slightly slumped over in exhaustion as you dragged your feet underneath you. Professor X, Scott, and Jean in front of you, Storm and Logan on either side of you. They all got off pretty easily, being able to fight at a distance, besides Logan, who just healed quickly no matter what happened, but you could tell he was pretty tired as well.

Your mutations were rather simple, heightened senses, strength and agility and you could emit a form of energetic pulse from your hands when in contact with something or someone. You had to fight in close combat, so you got a lot of the brunt force of the enemies you had fought. A group of anti-mutant terrorists who would hunt your kind down. There was a higher power behind them, and none of you knew who it was.

Entering into the main room of the mansion, the others all followed Professor X into his office, you turned to do the same, but stopped when you heard his voice in your head.

“Go relax Y/n, I know you are quite exhausted after what happened, there is no need for you to stay up any longer.”

You must be exhausted if you had let down your guard, your strong mental wall collapsed enough for him to so easily connect with you. Giving him a silent thank you, you turned and headed for the stairs, feeling a presence behind you, you looked back to see Logan following close.

“Did he send you to bed like a child as well?” you asked. There was no malicious intention in your voice, but the Professor had a knack at treating you like one of his students, not that you minded in most cases.

He smiled “Not in so many words.”

You continued up the stairs, highly aware of his eyes burning into the back of your head. As you made it to your floor, you continued toward your room before you stopped and turned around. Seeing Logan still behind you.

“Is there a reason you’re following me to my room?” you asked with a questionable gaze at him.

“The professor didn’t send me to bed so much as he sent me to check on you.”

You let out a soft laugh before turning back to your room and going inside, Logan entering after you.

During the fight, there was a particularly hostile man, who seemed to be in charge. He cornered you in a room and used some fairly violent anti-mutant weapons they had apparently developed. It took a lot of your strength but you were able to fight him off. But more than that, it was also exhausting on your emotions. You were also an empath. You could feel his pure rage and hatred for you, it was too strong to ignore. Once you got away from him, the Professor must have sensed the stress on you. It was rare that you felt someone with so strong of emotions, especially such violent ones.

“Why did he send you?” you asked as you sat on the edge of your bed, slipping off your shoes before peering up at him, as he leaned against the wall, watching you closely.

He stared at you for a second, as if he was debating something before he shrugged “Who knows?” you couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment as he said this “So, tell me, why’s the professor so concerned?”

You sighed as you stared down at the floor, your emotions returning as you thought of what happened, the mans taunting words and harsh emotions flowing through you again.

“You don’t deserve to exist in this world. You’re a monster, and monsters needs to be destroyed.”

Logan straightened up slightly “What?”

“That’s what the man said” you said as you stood up “And, I’ve....never, felt that sort of intense hatred from one single person before. With other people, non-mutants, I’ve felt fear, confusion, pity, excitement, and hate, but not that...pure. And as an empath, it’s exhausting” you finished simply before adding “I’m sure the professor could feel it, that’s why he wanted you to check on me.” you began to walk past him “You can tell him I’ll be fine, I’m going to take a shower. Goodnight Logan.” you said before walking into your bathroom and closing the door.

You leaned against the bathroom door, a few moments passed and your heart was pounding as you felt Logan’s presence on the other side of the door, before you heard him step away and leave your room. You let out a sigh as you undressed and got into the shower. As the warm water rushed over your body, you felt your body relax under the heat as you stood still, drenching yourself. You stared down at the shower drain as you saw dirt and grime wash off your body. Your mind played back on the man again.

Why does he hate us so much? Did a mutant hurt him in the past? Something had to happened to make him feel such pure hatred. Or is it just natural? Can someone be born with that much hate in them?

In some sense you wanted to understand, but, at the same time you didn’t. If you understood, then you might be able to feel that kind of hatred. And you never want to hate someone that much. But it wasn’t just hatred. It was disgust.

Your mind wandered to Logan. Why would the Professor send him? Did he know how you felt toward Logan? Did he think you would open up to him, more than the others.

Logan had been at the school for a few years now, and you got along well enough, but hardly spent a lot of time alone. But you couldn’t help but admire his strength, his instincts, and though he tries to hide it, his kindness. But he loves Jean. There was a time, when you could no longer handle not knowing, so you used your power on him, and felt a strong emotion of love. And when you felt it emanating off of him, it was when he was looking at her. That should have been enough to stop you from feeling something, but it didn’t. But you did stop using your powers around him. You didn’t want to feel that sort of overwhelming disappointment again.

Being reminded of that pain, and that love he felt for someone else, and then the hatred and disgust you felt today aimed at you and your kind. You thoughts going back to the hatred of others you’ve endured for years. You couldn’t help the sob that suddenly escaped your mouth as you brought your hand to your mouth. You tried to shut off the emotions, turn them off, but you were so exhausted, losing control of your powers. So as the tears came, you let the warm water wash them away.

- - -

The next morning as you walked down the stairs, kids running around the mansion to get to their first classes, you felt slightly sore, but otherwise alright. Approaching the Professors office, you knocked as you walked in, the door already open.

The Professor looked up at you with a smile “Good morning Y/n, how are you feeling today?”

You closed the door behind you before approaching his desk “Better.” you said with a soft smile “But I had a question.”

“What would that be?”

“Why did you send Logan to check on me?”

The Professor stared at your for a moment, and you could tell he was repressing a smile “I did not send Logan.”

You stared at him for a moment “Then why did he follow me to my room last night, and say that you did?”

“Well. I would suppose, to save himself from the embarrassment he might feel if you knew he wanted to check on you of his own will.”

“Why would he be embarrassed, we’re friends, he could have just asked.” you said, still not understanding.

The Professor shrugged his shoulders before he smiled “Perhaps that is a question you should ask him.”

After leaving his office, you continued on with your day, not seeing Logan at all except in passing. You weren’t sure why, but you had avoided him throughout the day. Maybe because you wanted to avoid a conversation that would include “You’re my friend and I wanted to see if you were alright”, because, though you were happy being friends with him, you couldn’t help but want more.

You sat on a bench in the garden, the kids all inside for the evening. You stared at the leaves blowing the trees, lost in thought.

“Hey.” a voice said suddenly, as a hand was placed on your shoulder.

You gasped and jumped at the sudden intrusion before looking back at who it was, seeing Logan looking at your with a look of confusion and amusement. “Logan” you breathed out before shaking your head at your own reaction.

“I was calling your name but you didn’t hear me” he said as he rounded the bench and sat next to you.

“Sorry, just distracted.” you said plainly, ignoring the heavy beating of your heart as you wondered why he was sitting so close.

“How are you feeling today?”

You eyed him “Did the Professor send you again?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He met your eyes for a moment before turning away “No. And-” he cleared his throat “He didn’t send me last night either. “

“I know.” you said simply as his head snapped back in your direction.

“You know?”

You nodded “I talked to the professor this morning.”

“Ah” he said simply “So? Are you going to answer my question?” he asked, changing the subject.

You smiles softly “I’m alright Logan.”

He stared at you, you were smiling, and your voice was so soft, but, there was hardly any emotion in your eyes. The familiar brightness that usually shone in your eyes was faded. You were always full of so much emotion.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

You realized how serious he looked. Was he worried? You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it shortly after, looking straight ahead again “I’m okay.” you said, as if trying to convince yourself “Just tired. Sometimes feeling everything all the time is exhausting to the point where, there is a short time where I don’t feel much of anything at all.” you admitted, you turned to look at him again and smiled “It’ll pass, it always does.”

He stared at your for a moment “I hope so. I hate seeing you suffering more than others. You don’t deserve it.”

“Are you saying that others deserve it?” you countered.

He smiled “No. I would just prefer if it wasn’t you. You take on more than others without trying.”

“You’re kind Logan” you said, “Even if you pretend you’re not.”

He let out a soft laugh as he shook his head “Only to you.”

“And to Jean” you hesitated for a second “And Storm” you quickly added on, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Well, I like them. But, I’m nice to them, not kind. You’re the one who insists there is a difference between them.”

“You’re kind to Jean” you finally said, tired of him refusing to admit his feelings, you looked at him “I know how you feel about her.”

Logan stared at you, his brow furrowed as you continued “I don’t feel anything for her.”

You scoffed “Of please Logan, I felt it. I get why you deny it, I mean she’s with Scott, but, you...can tell me, I don’t mind. It’s hard to keep that kind of thing to yourself.”

“What exactly did you feel?”

You met his eyes, your heart beating quickly, as the reminder of the pain and disappointment you felt showed itself again “Love. When you looked at her.”

He sat forward with a sight “When did you feel it?”

“It was a while ago, maybe a year or so I guess.”

He laughed “Do it again.”

“What?”

“Use your power. Feel what I’m feeling now.”

“That- that, won’t work, she’s not here, so if you’re trying to prove something-.”

“Just do it.”

You stared at him for a moment, seeing how seriously he looked. You let out a breath as you relaxed and expanded your power encasing him as you felt his emotion. He was feeling, nervous, but calm at the same time, a hint of what you recognize as fondness, but there was something deeper, something he was repressing, it was strong.

“You feel that?”

“I don’t feel anything, not really, not on the surface at least..”

“Exactly. I’m thinking about Jean right now.” He leaned forward a bit as he stared into your eyes “Now what do you feel.”

As he stared at you, you felt his emotions change rapidly, as that deep emotion became obvious. He was more nervous, almost scared, a bit excited, but the main emotion you could feel pulsing from him was familiar, the same emotion you felt before, when he was looking at her. But it seemed stronger this time. More prominent.

“Love.” you said quietly.

A small smile formed on his face “That’s because I’m thinking of you.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment in your chest as you looked at him “I came to check on you last night because I could tell you were hurting. I wanted to stay, to, help you, but you didn’t want me too. And now I get that it’s because you thought I loved Jean. And I did. But not for a long time. Not since I got to know you. You are the one person I care most about in this place, and the last person I want to see hurting. “

As you stared at him, still feeling the heavy emotions coming from him, now pairing with your own, you felt a tear escape the side of your eye. Logan, seeing it, smiled lightly. He knew what using your powers could do, it made you feel everything so strongly, and he had known that you felt something for him for a while.

Reaching out, he wiped the tear away with his thumb, then placed his hand across your cheek “You can turn it off now.”

You stared at him for a second, taking in the gentleness of his touch, and the way he was staring at you “I don’t want to.” you said quietly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled at you “Alright” he said before he leaned forward, bringing you into a deep kiss. For a second, you felt a strong burst of emotion from the both of you, before it was silenced, your power turned off as you relaxed and melted into the kiss.

As the strong emotions faded away, Logan pulled away from you as he looked into your eyes “That feeling won’t go away if you stop searching for it, it won’t fade, I promise.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply smiled at him, and his heart seemed to swell as he could once again see the bright emotion in your eyes again, no longer hidden behind a vale of exhaustion and pain as he leaned in for another kiss. The second of many more.

If you liked this please consider reblogging it, so that it can be shared with others~

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asimpforarmin · 3 years

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What Dog the AoT Characters Would Have 💛

Character(s): Armin Arlert, Sasha Braus, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Bertholdt Hoover, & Annie Leonhardt

Genre: Light-hearted, modern!au

Warnings: Mentions of animal neglect/abuse, some dog breeds commonly perceived as scary, cursing

A/n: I usually include Mikasa in my headcanons, but I just forgot until last minute that she existed ;-; so, sorry for not including her. If someone requests it, I’ll add her to the list.

💛 Armin

His parents got him a beagle puppy for one of his birthdays and he got so attached to it. He was so grateful that he had a dog and absolutely treasures him.

Named him Buddy because he’s his little sidekick and is always fun to play with and snuggle up to.

Buddy almost never shuts up though. A bird flies past the window? He starts barking. A truck goes by? Goes bonkers. He sees himself in the mirror? Shooketh.

Whenever Buddy starts going crazy, Armin picks him up, takes him away from whatever’s bothering him and scratches behind his ears. That makes Buddy practically melt into Armin’s arms and it’s so adorable. 💕

Buddy is very protective over Armin, or as protective as a dog his size could be. He always barks at the doorbell and is very wary of strangers.

If you walk into Armin’s house and Buddy has never seen you before, Armin will be sitting in a chair holding a dog who’s glaring into your soul.

You and Armin will try to have a normal conversation while Buddy is snarling and growling at you with Armin just patting his head and making an expression that says he deals with this all the time.

After a couple visits, Buddy is still tense around you but unwinds once you start playing with him.

Whenever Armin’s studying or working, Buddy will jump up into his lap and snuggle with him.

Sometimes when Armin falls asleep at his desk, he’ll have his arms on the table and Buddy in his lap.

When he’s in the car, Buddy tries to bite cars through the window. He just growls and bangs the glass with his teeth before Armin stops him from chipping a tooth.

Just how Buddy is protective of Armin, Armin’s protective of Buddy.

If someone talks shit about his dog, he’ll get sad about it. Buddy doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, he never hurt anyone.

Buddy can’t be taken to the park because he just agitates other dogs. He never gets along with them and never lets his guard down.

Buddy’s also one of those dogs who gets really dramatic. One time he was laying on the couch with his ball and it rolled off so he just started howling.

It’s also really hard to trim his nails without him growling, even though he’d never bite anyone.

Once Buddy has calmed down around someone, he’s fun to just hang around.

Armin likes to sit on the couch reading with Buddy on his lap or beside him. He’s great to study with or have around.

💛 Sasha

Adopts a 5-year-old blue greyhound from her local shelter.

She’d been volunteering there for a while when the greyhound came in and just couldn’t resist.

With greyhounds being bred to hunt and Sasha coming from a family who has a hunting background, it seemed like a match made in heaven.

She bought her and gave her a bright pink collar with a little dog bone tag with her name etched in it.

Since greyhounds’ necks are so long, she gives her a big knitted scarf to wear in the winter to keep her all nice and cozy.

Was torn between naming her Snickerdoodle or Candy because they’re both cute names and are both foods, but ended up naming her Pumpkin because she couldn’t decide and Pumpkin’s a really cute name as well.

Sasha loves playing fetch with her and it’s so fun because Pumpkin can run really fast, really far.

Pumpkin almost never barks unless she’s having fun or there’s someone at the door.

Sasha’s bed is lofted by a couple feet for storage and Pumpkin has no problem getting on and off her bed.

The first time Pumpkin saw Sasha’s bed, she didn’t know what to do so just sat there looking up at Sasha. It took a couple minutes for her to realize Sasha patting the bed meant she could jump onto it.

Sasha allows her dog on any of the furniture so there’s short hairs all over the couch no matter what.

Pumpkin’s really kind and gentle around kids so Sasha can basically take her anywhere. She’s super well behaved but sometimes scares people because she jumps in excitement.

Sasha also shares her food with her dog all the time. Always packs extra whenever she goes somewhere so she can give some to Pumpkin.

If you moved in with Sasha, Pumpkin would take to you right away.

She would literally be so sweet and always make you happy all the time. 😭💕

Plays tug of war and fetch a lot with you.

If you’re working/eating at a desk, she’ll lean her head on your leg until you pet her or give her food, or both.

Overall, Pumpkin is so sweet and adorable. She will always cheer you up when you need it and always has enough energy to play.

💛 Jean

Adopted a pitbull who is now 6, but was brought into a fighting ring when he was 4.

He knew it would be a challenge to help an abused dog but wanted to give him a good home.

When he first saw him, he was covered in scars and missing part of his ear.

He named him Kane. He’s a beautiful deep reddish-brown color with a white belly.

From the first moment they met, there was a connection. Kane warmed up to Jean quite quickly for a dog who’s been through so much.

Jean took him home and slowly introduced him to lifestyle changes, like going for walks or taking baths.

He introduces him to other dogs too. Kane showed a little hostility in the beginning, but once he realized they weren’t threats he was fine being around them.

Jean pays top dollar for him. Any issue he has, he takes him to the vet and gets it fixed up. He also gets the best food for him because that’s what he deserves.

Kane loves going for car rides. Sometimes Jean will get in the car with him, no destination in mind, and just drive.

Jean rolls the window down and Kane pokes his head outside. His mouth opens and because of the wind going into it, he showers the window behind him in slobber.

Kane absolutely loves swimming. He’s quite good at it, but Jean still takes a lot of safety precautions, such as a life jacket or shallow water because pitbulls are known to be somewhat bad swimmers.

Every summer, Jean takes out a kiddie pool and lets Kane splash around in it.

He also really likes to turn on the hose or sprinkler and aim it at Kane. He jumps up to bite the water and they both have a great time.

It can be a problem though because when Jean’s trying to fill the pool up, Kane keeps batting the hose with his paw or trying to eat the water and Jean has to get him to relax.

Other than his little quirks, Kane’s a relatively chill dog. He’s alright with being dressed up in costumes or having to wear a cone.

Every halloween, Jean gets both of them a matching costume and they sit on the porch to give kids candy.

Jean also lets the kids pet Kane because over time, he gets very welcoming of people and other dogs he doesn’t know.

Long story short, Kane’s not the dog you want to protect your house, if someone broke in, he’d just start wagging his tail and not be able to tell what’s going on.

💛 Connie

Saw how cool Jean’s dog is and also wanted a badass and cool breed.

He ended up adopting a doberman pinscher.

Like Jean’s dog, she looks strong and intimidating.

Unlike Jean’s dog, she acts the complete opposite of how she looks.

She’s often quite jittery or seems scared. Whenever someone even remotely raises their voice, her ears go down and she lowers her head.

You and Connie often have to give her tons of pets and appreciation after shouting, whether it’s good or bad shouting.

She’s also a total cuddlebug. She loves to be on Connie’s lap 24/7 and sleeps right next to him, watching over him.

Because of her timid personality, Connie named her Lily. It’s a sweet and innocent sounding name. Even though he sought her out to be a “cool” dog, she’s super sweet and didn’t want to name her something that conflicted with who she really was.

One thing about Lily is she loves running. Connie likes to skateboard alongside her as she pulls him along. It’s not much effort for her because Connie’s lightweight and uses his feet a lot. Plus, the area they live is pretty flat, so they often do.

Lily has a hard time understanding what is and isn’t a toy. One time she nearly chewed off one of the sofa legs. Next time Connie sat on it, it snapped and then he figured out Lily was behind it.

After that, he trained her to know everything he puts in her basket is a toy, but everything else isn’t. Then, she used the basket as a toy.

She goes through toys lightning quick.

Every time you or Connie give her a new stuffed animal, it takes approximately .2 seconds for it to be torn to shreds.

Connie loves to take her to PetSmart and let her pick out toys in-store.

If she chooses a toy that means Connie won’t need to guess what she likes and what she doesn’t.

One time she chose one of those scented rope toys, but once Connie took the packaging off, she started acting weirdly.

Once he gave it to her, she started barking at it and whacking it with her paw.

Connie was super confused so he threw it and she chased after it like normal, but once she got close to it she started acting scared of it and barking.

It’s been like that ever since now so they just don’t play with that toy.

Lily doesn’t bark that often. She usually only barks from excitement or when she meets someone new.

She also doesn’t have the zoomies that much so she’s a really relaxed dog to hang with.

💛 Bertholdt

Bertholdt saw his neighbors packing their stuff in a van one day and leaving but saw they left their samoyed leashed up outside.

He wanted to hold out hope that they were just going out somewhere for a bit so waited the rest of the night but found the dog still chained up the next morning in the rain.

He was never close to his neighbors and didn’t want any confrontation so he went up and knocked on the door, checking if anyone was home.

No surprise, they weren’t so he cautiously made his way over to the dog.

It was so happy to see someone and started licking his hand right away.

He unchained the dog and led it into his house where he gave it a nice warm bath and some food.

While bathing her, he took off her collar, with the neighbor’s number and address engraved in it along with her name, Mavis.

While Mavis was eating he called the number he found on her tag. He explained that the dog looked like it was left there on purpose so he took it in until they got home. They just said they didn’t want her anymore and hung up, which broke Bertholdt’s heart.

So he took her to the vet, got some pet things because he hasn’t owned a pet previously and she became a big part of his life.

She clings to him everywhere and won’t ever leave his side. Almost never barks and is super good on a leash.

Bertholdt takes her to the dog park a lot, Mavis is very social and has made a lot of friends there.

Mavis has quite the habit of rolling around in the mud or dirt though so Bertholdt has to give her a bath quite often.

Bertholdt absolutely cannot contain the dog hair. There is so much of it and it’s everywhere, went through like 3 lint rollers in the first week.

He spoils her rotten. Whenever he goes shopping he gets her new treats and toys because he swore to do right by her when her old owners didn’t.

If you were brought into the equation, Mavis would love you unconditionally. She’ll be there to give you high-fives and cuddle with you.

She is the softest thing on the planet so the cuddles are amazing. If you and Bertholdt sleep together, she’ll plop herself right in between the both of you so she could get attention until you fall asleep.

Whenever she needs something but isn’t up, she licks your face until you give her what she wants.

Even though she can get quite hot in the summer, she always wants to cuddle and loves to do it, whether it’s with you or Bertholdt.

💛 Annie (normally I don’t write for her but I couldn’t get this scenario out of my head)

Hitch gave her a chihuahua for her birthday even though she never remotely hinted at wanting a dog.

She didn’t want to return it though and oddly liked it, even though she never asked for him.

Just calls him “Dog” for a bit since she doesn’t know what to name him.

He’s a tan deer head dog so Annie gives him the name “Biscuit” after a couple weeks.

It’s super generic but she doesn’t think he needs any fancy name and he looks like a biscuit so 🤷🏻‍♀️

She has one of the backpacks with a compartment to fit a dog.

She likes to put Biscuit in there and take him out when she goes out.

When Annie takes him out, Biscuit is usually pretty chill, aside from giving a couple glares to random people.

Sometimes he even falls asleep in her backpack.

Whenever someone pisses Annie off, Biscuit senses it. Annie isn’t usually one to get into a full-blow fight and be loud, so Biscuit is her volume. Whenever she starts going off, he starts growling and barking.

And when she does get loud, both of them are yelling and screaming so that often deters the other person.

When she first got Biscuit, Annie didn’t really pay that much attention to him. She’d be on the couch and whenever he came up to her with a ball or toy, she’d throw it.

Then as she started to get used to him, she started to like him more.

Nowadays, she sometimes chases him around the house with a smile on her face and it’s so adorable, especially because she doesn’t smile all too often.

Biscuit is relatively calm, even for a chihuahua. He can often be seen on the couch on his back with his tongue out laying in the sun.

Speaking of being on the couch, originally Annie wanted to keep him off all furniture but soon realized he simply wouldn’t stay off and she didn’t want to bother to train him not to.

Now, they share almost everything. She sleeps with him next to her, they relax on the couch together, and sometimes she even brings him up on one of the kitchen chairs and they share food together.

Biscuit hates her alarm clock with a passion. If Annie doesn’t wake up from the alarm, she wakes up from the high pitched barks of her dog wanting her to turn it off.

Once the two are close, they are bonded for life and can be seen everywhere together.

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #Armin Arlert x Reader #Armin x Reader #Sasha Braus x Reader #Sasha x Reader #Jean Kirstein x Reader #Jean x Reader #Connie Springer x Reader #Connie x Reader #Bertholdt Hoover x Reader #Bertholdt x Reader #Annie Leonhardt x Reader #Annie x Reader

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years

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Just to clarify on a previous post: Moon was by no means at all willing to let Sun help with his emotional state for a while after the infection ordeal. Just like with the redemption au, the relationship was very strained. Moon knew that Sun couldn’t help the things he said, but he still said them. He still spent a month terrorizing him for fun. He can’t just get over that.

Whenever Sun tried to ask how he was feeling, he shut down and became cold and hostile even knowing that Sun had the best intentions and just wanted him to feel better because he didn’t want Sun to know how he was feeling. Why would he? For so long, all of his emotions were thrown right back at him, used against him to break him down. He didn’t want to let Sun in, and it hurt. Sun regret that he hurt his brother so much, though it wasn’t physical it was clear that he left a lot of damage. So even though it drove Sun insane, he did step back somewhat. He had to wait for Moon to let his walls come back down, because Moon has trust issues and for once Sun was dealing with the aftermath of them. Moon always trusted him, he never was on the receiving end of his trust issues, but now... now it was different. So while he did step in quickly about his less diserable habits, he couldn’t discuss why they formed with Moon for a long time because he would freeze up. It’s like trying to earn the trust of a stray animal- you can give them the necessities, but you also have to give them space or they’ll pull away. As much as Sun wanted to make his brother happy, and even though he hated seeing Moon so clearly miserable, forcing his involvement would only make him pull away more.

Eventually Moon did soften up, and he had his own little ways of expressing that he wants to talk about emotion stuff.

Here’s some added fluff to make up for the angst:

The way he approached the first conversation was by lurking by Suns bed while he drew. He had a massive blanket over his head, so his eyes were basically the only things visible, and he also had his Sun plushie. He was too shy to directly ASK Sun for a hug, so he just kept squeezing the Sun plushie in a hugging manner- which Sun eventually noticed, and he gently asked if Moon wanted a hug. Moon shyly nodded, and Suns heart melted because efbeyfbue he was acting like a shy little kid and it has no right to be so cute. So he let Moon come up into Suns bed and hugged him, and Moon fell asleep quickly. It was progress and fuck it Sun was just happy Moon was even sleeping in the same room as him. For a while he wouldn’t sleep in their room and instead slept in the naptime area as he had when Sun was infected, because he was too paranoid. Whenever he would sleep up there when Sun was infected, he would scream at him for it and being woken up by being yelled at is god awful.

#fnaf security breach au #role reversal au #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sunrise #sundrop #fnaf moon #moondrop #hurt/comfort

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

118 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

Text

Title: Hibiscus Kisses {6}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Lots Of Words, Death

Words: 8.3k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***VERY Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Interactive**

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} |

You must have stood at the back of the yacht for a while because the shore and the docks were barely visible at this point. Every minute that ticked by you weighed your options of just diving in and swimming back. Everything you came up with seemed fine to deal with. So what if your hair got wet and you had to go through your four-hour wash and treat routine. So what if you attracted a shark or two, you could swim. So what if everything in your bag got drenched, you could replace them.

With the number of rebuttals you came up with, you should have jumped in already. The major con that was flashing in your head in neon lettering was you are an adult and not a child who ran away from difficult situations. The sound of laughter had you turning around to see Chris laughing with Harper. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Scoffing, you turned back around and crossed your arms.

Almost a minute later you felt Chris standing beside you. “If you want to swim back I’m sure you could make it.”

If looks could kill, the one you gave him should have done it. All you had to do was push him overboard to a watery grave. Chris lifted his hands to show his no threat status and that was when you walked away.

“All right folks. It’ll be another forty minutes before we arrive at the best fishing spot in all of the islands. It’s my little secret. In the meantime, you have a choice of activities. You can go down below and marine watch, stay on deck and do some pictures and sights, or go into the bubble where you are surrounded by the ocean. It is optimal for fish watching. I’ll let you folks know when we’ve arrived.”

You nodded and walked toward the steps that would lead below deck. You fully intended to get as far away from him as possible. Ignoring the way he turned to you as if he had something to say, you carefully went down the steps and to the back of the yacht. There you found what Harper was referring to. It looked like an actual bubble with two seats. Once you sat down you saw why this was mentioned as the most sought-after experience. You really felt like you were alone under the ocean and not apart from it but one with it.

You watched a school of yellow and black striped fish swim by and a small box popped up to the right of the screen with a still photo of the fish and a few listed facts.

“Moorish Idol fish. These fish commonly inhabit tropical to subtropical reefs and lagoons. These fish usually travel alone or in small schools. These fish mate for life and adult males show aggression to one another.”

Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected it to be high-tech. In front of you, you grabbed the flipbook and flicked through it to see a variety of sea creatures. The announcement of another fish brought your attention back to the ocean before you and that is where your eyes remained. Creature after creature swam by and up to the glass. Each one was announced and described. As they came up, you took pictures of the pretty ones you liked ready to show them to your family when you returned home.

You were so wrapped up in fish watching that you didn’t notice that you weren’t alone until it was too late. Chris slipped into the seat beside you, startling you. Your harsh glare landed on him with the force of fifty blades behind it. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were glued to the water and passing reef life.

“Oh wow, Nemo and Dory,” Chris exclaimed inching closer to the glass.

That was all it took for your attention to go right back, and lo and behold there were Dory and Nemo lookalikes.

“Wow.”

Mirroring Chris’s actions you slid to the edge of the seat as well and touched the glass. They were pretty in animation but that had nothing on real life. The orange and blue were so striking up close.

“They’re even best friends in real life,” Chris quietly said.

For the next few minutes neither of you spoke again you were too wrapped up in looking at all the fish that passed by one after the other. When you’d reached a part of the ocean where life was scarce, you sat back and crossed your arms.

“Can I please explain?”

You sighed and dropped your head back to rest on the hard headrest, keeping your eyes trained in front of you.

“I promise I’m not this asshole you have me pegged as in your head.”

“So you don’t go around trying to charm women out of your panties and in your bed for notches on your bedpost?”

“God no!”

You rolled your eyes not believing one word.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to nothing but good,” Chris replied holding up three fingers.

A smirk teased your lips at the Harry Potter line he’d just repurposed for his own use mixed with the Hunger Games salute. You shook your head unable to ignore how adorkably stupid he was.

“You know those two have nothing to do with the other, right?”

Chris slyly smiled and shrugged. “It’s sorta my thing. Sleeping around and I have nothing to do with each other also.”

You snorted and shook your head. He was smooth.

“You’re real smooth, I’ll give you that.”

He sighed and turned his body more to you. “It’s a misunderstanding,” Chris began.

“Let me stop you there. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time anyone starts off with that, chances are there was no misunderstanding,” you dryly informed.

“That high? Okay, then I fall in the point one percent.”

You glared at him again but he didn’t back down, he held your glare but behind his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity rather than the hostility you had spearing behind yours. When you didn’t object, he opened his mouth to speak again but you looked away.

“There’s no need.”

“Why won’t you let me explain?”

You knew why. If he explained and the explanation seemed plausible and he looked sincere the chances of you believing it would be eighty percent and that was high. You would then continue spending time with him because you did enjoy his company and conversation and eventually sleep with him. Maybe. Letting him explain was step one that would lead to a series of missteps. Then you’d find yourself in a situation come the end of the cruise when both of you went your separate ways. There were too many what-ifs in the air.

“Ah, I think I know. If you let me explain then this image you have of me being a womanizer who is after fast and quick ass, who would come on a cruise to chase women for a notch would be debunked. If it is debunked, then you’d have to admit that you liked spending time with me and enjoyed yourself. Then you’d have to admit that what might have happened if my phone didn’t ring wouldn’t have been a one-off. You’d have to face the possibility that there might be something here past our physical attraction.”

Well damn, you thought. For a moment your thoughts betrayed the steely animosity in your eyes and you knew your shock shone through. You quickly looked away from him and tapped into your inner Elsa while watching a school of white fish pass by. You could feel him beside you staring at you as if trying to crack your resolve. You fought against him and kept your breathing slow and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me I’m right. I know I am and it’s not because I’m a cocky prick. It’s because—,” Chris paused then sighed heavily before he continued. “I liked spending time—with you. Like really liked it and this was before anything physical happened. You’re funny and fun and not phased by this thing called fame that is wrapped around me. You probably don’t understand it, but that’s something refreshing and attractive to me.”

Unable to resist any longer, you sneakily glanced at him while wondering if any part of what he’d just said was possibly true.

“Before I came on this cruise to get away from my life—run away from my life.”

Your interest piqued. Why was he running away? Didn’t he have everything?

“My friend, the one you heard on the phone was teasing me about the reason. I didn’t want to give him the real deal so I kept quiet which led him to the conclusion that it had something to do with a woman. It didn’t but he thought it. So the phone call was him stating his opinions again, his way of life. Now I’m not condoning what he said at all but that’s his life. I didn’t come here for any of that and that night wasn’t about that for me.”

“What was it about?”

You blurted the question without a thought and once you’d asked, you regretted it. The answer wouldn’t do you any good.

Sighing, you looked back out to the water. “Don’t answer that.”

And he didn’t. The silence stretched and your thoughts did as well. You contemplated his explanation and the probability of any of it being true. He had all the reason to lie right now, but the more you thought about it the more you guessed he didn’t need to lie being who he was. He could have just shrugged and put you on the side that wasn’t a fan of his and kept it moving.

“Look,” Chris said shoving his phone to you with the text exchange between him and someone named Austin was visible.

“I know what it is to be distrustful of strangers or everyone really and proof means a lot to me. Since the burden of proof is on my side, here it is.”

You read through the exchange from a little over a week ago and sure enough, his friend Austin was scum. The irrefutable proof showed those sentiments were his and even showed Chris admonishing him for those sentiments and setting him straight. The banter that continued was Austin teasing him about his good boy behaviors. From the texts, you could tell they were close, and you could also tell that Austin was the asshole between them and Chris was possibly a good guy.

Groaning, you looked away and dropped your head back to the headrest again. You did not need this. Sighing, you closed your eyes and listened to the silence. Several minutes passed by where neither of you spoke and just when you were going to Harper’s voice came in over the ship’s intercoms.

“We have some dolphin action up here if anyone’s interested.”

“Dolphins!”

Your head snapped to Chris hearing the uncharacteristically excited squeal. Did he really just turn into a Powerpuff girl? Chris leapt to his feet and began walking toward the steps leaving you there to wonder just what kind of man he was.

A few moments later, you emerged from below and walked to the railing to see a dolphin jump out of the water in the distance.

“Oh my god!”

At that moment you felt your smallness in the world. There were so many other creatures that were bigger and yet humans always thought themselves so superior. It was baffling.

“It’s not always like this, they must be here to greet you folks,” Harper said as another jumped out and one swam up.

You dropped down to your knees and peered over the railing and marveled at the aquatic beauty.

“They’re so friendly.”

Just then, a dolphin popped up showing its long bottlenose and black eyes and in the same breath, a stream of water came at you drenching you. In your shock, you just sat there while Chris and Harper heartily got their laugh in at your expense. To add insult to injury the dolphin even sounded like it was laughing. Who could be mad though? It was too cute. You looked across the way and saw Chris snapping pictures of you with a wide smile on his face. Being alarmed, snapping at him, or even telling him to delete the pictures would have all been acceptable reactions but you didn’t react in any of those ways. Instead, you brought your attention back to the dolphins in the water. Let him take his pictures, you thought.

Twenty minutes later you were sitting at the side of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge enjoying the breeze, sun, and tranquility being on the ocean brought. There was something so serene about being in the middle of a giant body of water with creatures of plenty underneath its depths while there was nothing in sight for miles and miles. It was peaceful. The pictures you took of the horizon, the sky, and the water were breathtaking. You knew they’d make great printouts to add to your walls when you returned home. When you realized your battery was running low, you dug into your bag for one of your four fully charged portable chargers and slipped your phone into one of the many waterproof pouches you had your belongings secured inside.

Your sister liked to make fun of you for how well you prepared for things. When you went out for every day, your purse contained every possible thing you would and could need for the day. You didn’t like being unprepared for whatever you came across and that included something as minor as rain all the way to the major things like abductions. You’d been the butt of many jokes but you didn’t care.

Glancing to the other side of the yacht, you watched as Chris followed the instruction of Harper as he practiced a variety of sailor’s knots. It didn’t look like he was a novice though. You could tell he’d done it a few times before. Sooner than you could look away, Harper caught you then motioned you over. It would have been rude to ignore him, so you walked over to them and sat before them.

“Here, try your hand at sailor’s knots,” Chris suggested holding out a length of rope to you.

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” he followed up as you took it.

“You look like you’ve done it before.”

“Once or twice,” he replied.

You studied the knots surrounding Chris for a few moments then took a stab at it. From the beginning you messed it up but didn’t quit, instead, you undid it and tried again. You didn’t quit easy. That was probably why you were in your current relationship predicament. A few minutes and several failed attempts later, you held up the finished product that looked identical to Chris’s.

“So you have one of those brains where you can see something and replicate it?”

You scoffed and shrugged. “Kind of. I just pick some things up quickly.”

Chris nodded and held out another length of rope and pointed to a different pattern. “Try this one.”

You knew it was a test. You grabbed the rope and studied the new pattern that was a lot more intricate than the first. Though it was more intricate it took you a shorter amount of time to start. When you held it up for them to see, less time had passed and you hadn’t made one mistake.

“Wow,” Harper exclaimed before he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m pretty amazing,” you joked.

Both men laughed but didn’t debate the fact.

“We’re coming up on the cove that gives me the best fish. Of course, we’re catching and releasing, but it won’t dampen the experience,” Harper informed.

Within a few short minutes, Harper had pulled up to one of the most beautiful coves you’d ever seen. The water was aquamarine crystal blue. It was so crystal like you could see several feet into it. The giant rocks that created a maze had moss growing off the tops of them that were lush green and created a nice contrast of colors. If you could have picked up this view and brought it home with you, you would have. It was that breathtaking.

You weren’t the only one thinking it, Chris was a few feet away snapping every picture he could get, only he didn’t look like a tourist. He looked like a professional travel photographer. When he dropped to one of his knees to get a different angle you just leaned against the railing and watched. The sun beaming down on him gave his hair a reddish hue which looked good on him. It even accentuated the freckles peppered along his arms. You remembered what was under that shirt of his at that second. You remembered the muscles, the hair, and the tats. It was an unexpected sight but one that you wouldn’t mind seeing again. Instantly you kissed your teeth and slapped your forehead.

“Cut it out.”

“Did you say something?”

Chris was looking at you with a quizzical expression with his camera still posed up.

“Nope, nothing.”

He didn’t look like he believed you, but slowly he went back to snapping his pictures while you tried to create even more distance between you.

“Get a grip, Ajali. It hasn’t been that long. You’re not affection starved either. Get—a—grip.”

You took a few slow breathes and focused on the scene before you. You now understood why many people said this island was a top destination for vacations.

“And we’re ready. You both said you’ve fished before, right?”

You walked toward Harper’s voice then saw he had fishing rods, buckets, gloves, and all the other supplies lying at his feet.

“I’ve done some fishing,” Chris offered before both sets of eyes landed on you.

“Never.”

“It’s not hard, I promise,” Harper assured bending for the rods. He held one out to Chris and the other to you.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll explain everything and its function. If either of you have any questions let me know.”

Harper walked a few feet away leading the two of you to a shaded portion of the yacht. Once there, he explained everything in detail. He showed the parts of the rod, showed how to put things together, explained their function, and then went on to the different kinds of bait that were available. When he began demonstrating how to hold the rod and posture you paid close attention and imitated what he did. You knew though this was something that would take some getting used to.

After twenty minutes, the three of you were in your spots ready to cast your rods. You watched Harper cast his first and it looked so fluid. You could tell he’d done this thousand of times. Then you watched Chris and though his movements weren’t as fluid, it looked like he was far from a beginner. You sighed and tried your best. The rod was heavy in your hands and affected your ability to control it and cast it perfectly. Glancing at Harper, he shrugged.

“Good enough. You got it where it needs to go.”

A soft chuckle escaped both you and Chris.

“What kind of catch do you get out here?”

Harper proceeded to explain the different kinds of fish he’d caught to Chris while you partially zoned them out. It didn’t take long for you to understand why people liked fishing. It was calming. You could leisurely do it while letting your mind drift and worries float away. Thirty minutes later it was your line that tugged first. You yelped then squeaked as you panicked.

“What do I do?”

“Reel it in,” Harper said.

The resistance on the line was giving you a good arm workout. The struggle went back and forth. You doubted this was a baby.

“This thing is strong.”

“You got it, put your back into it like Ice Cube,” Chris teased making you narrow your eyes at him. That only made him laugh loudly.

A few more moments of struggle persisted until you’d yanked the rod backward tucking it out of the water, over your head, and flopping the fish right on the deck.

“Aaaah, oh my god! I caught a fish!”

You jumped up and down excited by your success. Forgetting any prior slights you jumped closer to Chris and bumped shoulders with him.

“I did it!”

“You did.”

“Good job. This here is a Barracuda,” Harper announced.

“Ooooh Barracuda,” you and Chris said in unison like the song. The two of you giggled together before returning your attention to Harper.

“It’s not an adult, but it’s no baby either. You want a picture?”

“Yes!”

You scurried to your bag and pulled out your phone then handed it to Chris before you dropped down to your knees and bent to the fish still flopping on the deck and smiled as you’d just won the lotto. Chris laughed and took the picture a few moments later. After the first few shots, you changed poses and let him take a few more. You watched as Chris’s face went from wide smiles to solemn confusion. Just as you were going to ask if your battery died, Harper spoke.

“Do you want to do the honors of releasing it?”

“You mean touch it?”

Harper nodded and you ardently shook your head. “No thank you. I hear Barracudas like to bite.”

Harper laughed at you as he effortlessly grabbed the fish by its tail then chucked it back into the ocean.

“It was just an adolescent.”

Chris held your phone out then walked back to his rod without a word. Slight confusion washed over you as you glanced at your screen to see one of the pictures he’d just taken, but your battery was fully charged.

For the next few hours Chris barely spoke to you, but when you glanced over to him, his eyes were always on you before he looked away once yours met his. It was a complete turnaround from before. It shouldn’t have bothered or affect you at all considering the reality of things, but it did bother you a little bit. Once the three of you had had your fill of catch and release the sun was beginning to disappear. Harper caught a huge Mahi Mahi, scaled and fillet it right in front of you, and Chris showing off his impressive knife skills. He then took the fish to prepare what he promised would be the best open ocean fish you’d ever had. You were excited to see the finished product.

Once Harper had disappeared down below you walked to the cooler, took out two beers, and walked over to Chris. He was sitting toward the back of the yacht watching the rocks in silence. You sat beside him, held out the beer, and waited for him to accept it. When he took it, he wasted no time twisting off the top and taking a mouthful. You sat there in silence looking over the view.

“Who knew a celebrity could fish.”

“I’m not a celebrity all day every day. I have hobbies and free time.”

“I take it fishing is a hobby?”

“When I can get to it. Sometimes I can’t go off the grid to do it.”

You nodded and tried to picture him at a lake with a rod and bucket of bait catching fish. A soft smile spread across your face before you gulped your beer.

“What’s one of your hobbies?”

Taking a deep breath you slowly released it. “Painting.”

“You’re artistic?”

“Depends what you call artistic. I can slap some paint on a canvas and call it a day.”

Chris looked at you for a few moments. “Somehow I find it hard to believe it’s as lowkey as you’re describing. I bet you’re a modern-day Frida Kahlo.”

You smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Silence spread between you again and the two of you sipped from your bottles. It was a semi-comfortable silence.

“Are you departing tomorrow or staying on?”

You wanted to ask why he wanted to know but decided against it. “Staying on.”

Chris nodded. “Me too.”

Neither of you spoke again, instead, you watched the sky as the sun slowly began its descent behind the water. When Harper returned, the air filled with such a delicious scent that your belly grumbled loudly.

“And dinner is served. Harper placed the platter down on the table and you and Chris walked over to it. Your jaw dropped in amazement.

“What kind of kitchen do you have down there that can produce that?”

“I’ve had tons of practice.”

The Mahi Mahi that was alive less than two hours ago was now cooked to perfection and decorated with papaya, and a green salad.

“Wow, this looks mouthwatering,” Chris complimented.

“It’s nothing fancy, just some fish with a papaya and seaweed salad.”

“Seaweed salad? Oh wow. You utilize everything huh.”

“Absolutely. I can tell you more about using everything you can to not only survive but make good food,” Harper said motioning you both to sit down.

“No one is serving you here, help yourselves there’s plenty.”

The three of you dug in taking portions of fish and salad. When you took a bite of the Mahi Mahi your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

“All it needed was some salt, pepper, and lemon. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best way.”

Chris moaned and nodded in agreement with you. “Delicious.”

As the three of you ate, Harper told you all about his travels and time living on his own on the ocean and how he’d learned to survive on little to nothing. It was so interesting to hear his story. From it, you gathered he was determined, creative, meticulous, and persevering. He didn’t let anything stop him and because of that mindset, he said he’d seen a lot of wonderful things and had a beautiful life. Listening to him speak about his loves and losses and how it was just him in the end you couldn’t help but think about your relationships.

When he began listing off the life lessons he’d learned you made note of each and every one of them. You always thought the stories of the older generations were interesting. While most of their experiences were relatable, a lot of it wasn’t because of the difference in eras. In Harper’s era being a bachelor past twenty-two was seen as taboo, yet that was the life he lived. When he spoke of when he did get married, it was to the one woman he’d loved since he was twenty years old. The woman he’d been stupid about and missed out on two times. From the way he spoke about her, you knew she was his soul mate.

Glancing to Chris who was sitting diagonally from you, part of you wondered how relatable Harper’s experiences were to him. You thought back to the very few tabloid and gossip stories you’d read about him but nothing jumped out to you. The tabloids didn’t focus on one woman that he was possibly seeing, they didn’t highlight any crazy behaviors with any of them or even highlight breakups. That was part of how you’d pieced him together. The lack of information left for such a wide breadth of possibilities to put together.

“Take it from me young ones, when you’re walking down a dimly lit street of soft lights, and you happen to find that anomaly among the sea that shines a different light and makes everything else pale in comparison you do whatever it takes to hold on to that. You fight for it and don’t let anything or anyone make you miss out on it. None of us are here for a long time. One day I’ll join my Angie and we’ll be together again. I welcome that day, until then I’ll keep drifting.”

The three of you sat there in silence, each of you lost in your thoughts and worries. Was Javii that anomaly or was he part of the sea and you’d been mistaken this whole time? When Harper returned to the helm to captain you back toward land you were secluded from the rest of them and still lost in your thoughts. It had been days since you left and you’d figured out nothing. If anything, you’d added more to your plate to think about. This was what you hadn’t wanted to do and that was the reason you chose this option rather than staying in the city.

You began to wonder again about the person who would be that anomaly that Harper spoke of. Rather than thinking of your experiences with Javii, your irresponsible mind thought of your run-ins with Chris. When you’d seen him in passing before boarding the ship you’d noticed him in the sea of people and amidst every chaotic thing happening around you. Your brain singled him out. It did it again when you saw him in passing topside when you’d met Genevieve and in the lounge club. It was something you hadn’t focused on before but now it was all you could think of.

“Get a freaking grip, Ajali!”

You smacked your head and dropped it down hunching over to hug your shins. Suddenly, you felt raindrops and those drops quickly turned into a waterfall.

“What the--,” you began holding your hands out confused how a downpour like this could just suddenly start.

Unexpectedly, the ship lurched hard to the left sending items on the deck toppling over including your beer bottle and the empty ones around it. Thinking quickly, you grabbed the railing to not tumble. Your grip was precarious thanks to the downpour and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. Just as you were losing your grip, that was when the ship lurched again only this time to the right. With no time to grab for the railing, you tumbled over but before you hit the deck arms wrapped around you stabilizing you.

“I got you.”

Glancing up, you found Chris with rainwater pouring down his face and beard. He was holding on tightly to one of the metal poles while holding you tightly in his other arm. When the rocking went from deadly to manageable, Chris slowly let you go.

“Something must be wrong. Let’s go.”

Both of you took off on the search to find Harper. Every few seconds the rocking of the ship made items fall and roll. Chris was the one to pull you in every which direction to help you avoid the bigger items. When the ship bucked back you both slid back.

“Aaah, fuck!”

A sharp slice caught you off guard making you fall to the deck. Before Chris could react the boat rocked again sending you rolling back a few feet. When you slammed into one of the walls you shouted out in pain. Seconds later Chris was bent before you.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes quickly scanned your body and found your bleeding foot.

“Oh god.

Chris quickly pulled off his tropical printed shirt, ripped it, and began wrapping your foot.

“I’m sorry I have to do this tight to hopefully slow the bleeding,” Chris informed before he yanked the material, knotting it tightly around your injury. You tried to stifle your groan but it didn’t work. Your shout echoed across the open water and carried it competing with the downpour from the sky.

“I’m sorry. Ready to keep going? We’re almost there.”

You nodded and let Chris help you up. With his arm around your waist and yours draped over his shoulder the two of you hurried to the small enclosure where Harper was steering the boat. Every so often thanks to the falling and rolling items you and Chris looked like circus performers, jumping, dodging, and sliding out of harm's way. The way Chris managed to go into protector and alpha mode had you seeing a new side to him. Women did love a man who could take charge.

When you finally made it you found Harper passed out on the floor.

“Oh my god!”

Chris placed you along one of the windows so you could lean against it before he dropped down to his knees to check for a pulse. The longer it took him to turn to you, the more anxious you became.

“He has a pulse, but it’s thready. Looks like he may have hit his head,” Chris informed before he ripped the while men’s tank he wore at the hem and pressed it to Harper’s forehead.

On impact, Harper groaned then bolted up.

“Hey, take it easy,” Chris shouted trying to compete with the loudness of the ocean and the rain.

“No. Storm. We’re in a storm. We call these pop-ups. They happen all the time,” Harper explained as Chris helped him to his feet.

“If you knew it was coming--,” you began.

“I didn’t. No one can predict these and they’re increasingly more dangerous.”

The yacht whipped as if it were a leash sending all three of you knocking into whatever was closest. Immediately the pain that whisked through you had you screaming. That was the first time you thought you were going to die. All you could feel was pain, all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating. You slowly opened your eyes but couldn’t make anything out through the haziness. You couldn’t pinpoint where the pain in your body was coming from, it felt like it was everywhere.

“Ajali!”

Snapping your eyes open you saw Chris’s drenched and concerned face before you. “Open your eyes. Stay with me!”

It was a forceful command. One that you slowly obeyed. He helped you to a sitting position then turned back to Harper who was trying to stand to look over the built-in equipment of the ship.

“We’re way off course here. Somehow this storm has put us way off route. It makes no sense.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means we’re drifting and not towards the islands. We’re drifting away.”

“What!”

Harper tried to turn the key for the engine but it stalled then sputtered. He tried it again and again but the result was the same.

“This is bad,” Harper added.

“What do we do?”

The ship rocked again but this tilt was so drastically different. It actually went so far on its side that it felt like you were going to capsize.

“We’re gonna tip over!”

Chris ran from the small room fighting against gravity’s pull to yank him over. Your first thought was he was leaving you.

“Hang on tight!”

Your scream was so loud you doubt you’d ever gone that high before. Terror gripped your heart and your entire life flashed before your eyes. You were certain you were done for. There was no way to make it out of this. You began mumbling but you didn’t know if what you said made any sense. A few seconds later, the ship dropped back into the water allowing you to remain top side up. You felt hands on your body and you opened your eyes to Chris shoving your arms in a bright orange life vest.

“I could only find one right now so it’s yours.”

“What—what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Hold on tight.”

He spun around looking at Harper.

“I have to get below.”

Harper hurried out without another word and Chris turned back to you.

“I’m going to help him. Stay here.”

He made a move to leave and you grabbed his hand pulling him back to you.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not. I’m going below with Harper. I’m sure he’ll need my help. I think it’s safer for you up here.”

You still held tight to his hand fear controlling your movements. Chris’s expression softened before he took a step close to you to hold you at the side of your neck to the base of your skull.

“I swear to you I won’t leave you, no matter what. We’re in this together. I will be back and we’ll laugh about this one day. For that day to come though we have to get through this and I have to help him down below. You’ll be safe. Hold on tight, stay low.”

You nodded and took a few breathes trying to psych yourself up.

“You got this,” Chris said before he pulled away and walked from you.

You closed your eyes and said a silent prayer hoping for him to come back and that his words weren’t bullshit.

The seconds seemed to slowly tick by and the minutes went on for lifetimes. Every jolt of the ship leveled you to a whimpering mess. You did just as Chris has instructed—kept low and held on for dear life. You didn’t care how numb your hand became from gripping the cold metal for so long you kept holding on. You didn’t care how cold you got from not only the ocean water but the rain and the strong wind gusts, you remained in your corner shivering refusing to come out. It didn’t matter how much the pain you felt intensified the colder you got you ignored it and kept whispering your silent prayers. You didn’t want to die. Not like this.

You heard something like a loud crack then the groaning of metal then the ship once again tilted. You screeched and tried to hold yourself to the railing but the further the boat tilted the harder it was to hold on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You screamed again and braced yourself to end up in the water under the boat, but instead of it tipping it once again dropped back onto the water’s surface.

“Oh my god!”

“Ajali, can you hear me?”

You whipped your head around trying to find where the voice was coming from without letting go of the railing. You were too scared.

“Ajali. Can you hear me!”

On the dashboard, you saw a red light flashing and guessed it was the radio. The only problem was for you to get to it, you’d have to let go and walk over to it. If the yacht tilted again you’d slid your ass out the room and off the boat. It was a risk.

“Ajali, pick up. We’re down here trying to fix the engine but we need you to turn her on for us. Can you do that?”

“Fuck!”

You slowly stood, fighting against your aching joints, bones, and muscles, and stood upright with most of your weight on your uninjured foot. You assessed the distance from where you were to the dashboard and knew slow and steady was the best way but you doubted you had that time. You took a deep breath and took three hops on your good foot toward the dashboard. When there was just one hop left to take the vessel rocked sending you off balance and smack dab into the glass with your face.

At this point, there was no part of your body that wasn’t in pain. A metallic irony taste filled your mouth and you knew you were bleeding. You had no idea from where though, your face was completely numb.

“Ajali!?”

Using the back of one hand, you wiped across your mouth and took another deep breath, and hopped to the dashboard throwing yourself across it and holding it for dear life. You took a few moments to calm yourself then grabbed the walkie.

“I’m here.”

You heard Chris exhale as if he was relieved. “Thank god, I thought something happened.”

“I’m fine,” you lied while trying to wipe away the blood that dripped across the dashboard.

“Try to turn the engine on.”

You twisted the designated key all that happened was a long exaggerated sputter then hiss.

“This time keep it turned don’t release it,” Chris suggested.

Doing as you were told, you waited and begged the engine to cooperate. When you heard a yell over the walkie you knew it wasn’t good.

“Damn it! There’s water in the engine. The only way to even begin to work on it is for it to dry out. That’s gonna be impossible during a storm. It’ll just keep flooding. We’re not moving. Damn it!”

There was a full range of banging over the walkie that only made you panic more.

“Can everyone not fall apart right now? Please. I’m terrified enough as it is,” you pleaded.

“Listen to my voice, it’s okay. We’re coming back up. We just have to weather the storm,” Chris said. His voice sounded like he was panicking but was also trying to showcase calm. You heard both.

Another loud crack echoed but it wasn’t on your end, it was over the walkie.

“What was that?”

The sound rang out again and everything went dead silent over the walkie before a loud crash of something breaking echoed out. At that moment the ship lurched again only this time the groan of metal was so loud it made you shake from fear. Garbled speech went in and out over the walkie alarming you.

“He—hello?”

The only response you got was the walkie dying.

“Hello? Hello?” You pressed buttons and turned switches not knowing what any of them did but hoping one of them brought communication back. Nothing helped though.

“Chris! Hello? Chris! Answer me goddamn it!”

You threw the corded walkie and dropped your head down and wailed. There was no hope at all you thought.

“I’m gonna die.”

You cried, finally letting out the angst and terror you were feeling. There was nothing positive about your current situation. You were in the middle of the ocean, practically alone while a storm was raging around you. people went missing like this, people died like this. You were suddenly so tired. A wave of water brushed against your feet but you didn’t think anything of it. You almost couldn’t lift your head.

“Ajali!”

As you lifted your head you saw Chris racing toward you.

“We have to get off this ship.”

“What!”

“The glass broke. We’re taking in water and sinking—fast!”

Hearing those words you found the energy to rise. “What do we do? Where’s Harper?”

“He’s lowering the life raft. Let’s go.”

Chris wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you along. When you made it down the steps to the deck you saw that it was completely filled with water.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s all right, I have you.”

He must have gotten tired of your hobbling because he scooped you up and hurried along treading through the now calf-level water.

“You’re freezing cold,” Chris mumbled.

“What are we gonna do?”

Chris reached Harper who looked as if he’d been through hell. From one glance you could tell he was hurt.

“Climb down first,” Harper said to you as Chris put you down.

You flinched as the saltwater wreaked devastation on your injured foot.

“I’m scared.”

“I know. it’s expected, you’re human. I need you to work through that fear though and climb down into the raft,” Chris reasoned.

You nodded and tried to get over not only the terror but also will your muscles to move through them being near frozen. You tried to move your legs in some coordination to climb over the railing but it was taking a bit of time on your own. Chris stepped closer and helped you to take the first step down the ladder. When your injured foot joined your other one it slipped and sent you down a few of them only stopping when you were able to get a grip on the metal.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

You slowly went down the remaining steps until you got to the last one and saw you’d need to jump off the railing to land in the raft. You took a few breathes, hoped that you made it in the raft and not in the ocean, and jumped. Landing on your back you couldn’t relax. It hit you that you were now in a life raft about to drift to god knows where. From above you heard the two men arguing back and forth over who should go next. When you saw Chris was the one climbing down the ladder you knew Harper had won.

It didn’t take him nearly as long as it took you. A few seconds later he’d jumped in next to you. The strong scent of gas immediately hit you.

“You smell like gas.”

Chris smelled himself then his eyes widened and pointed back to the ship. The two of you looked up just in time to see Harper bringing back up the ladder.

“What’re you doing? Come down!”

“No can do brother. This here is my ship and a captain always goes down with his ship.”

Your eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t be serious.

“That’s not funny Harper. The gas is leaking, there is no saving it. It isn’t worth your life. Come on, there’s time for you to save yourself too,” Chris rebutted.

“I’m long past saving,” Harper said lifting his shirt to show the large shard of glass that was sticking through his abdomen. It looked like it had gone right through him. You knew that if it were removed the chances of him living were zilch.

“Oh my god,” you mewled before clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle the wail that followed.

“Harper--,” Chris began but never finished.

“I always knew I’d die on this ship and that’s all right. I’m at peace with it. If I get in that raft with you I’d be doing you a disservice. Sharks would be on your tail in no time.”

Harper flung a pack over the railing into the raft.

“I’ve already pre-packed all the emergency packs in the raft. They’re in the side compartments as well as underneath the zipped platform of the bottom. These are things you’ll need wherever you wash up.”

Another bag followed the first and landed on the raft. “This one is some rations. Remember to conserve the water. You can survive without food longer than water.”

You cried louder while using your hand to muffle as much of the sound as you could.

“Come on man,” Chris pleaded.

Four more bags followed including your backpack. By then you’d fully lost it and had ventured into a nervous breakdown.

“Inside the raft, there is a transponder. I am going to set off the homing beacon on my ship it’ll give search and rescue some idea of where things went wrong. They’ll be able to follow the signal and rescue you no matter where you are.”

Harper bent forward and groaned. He must have been in so much pain you thought to yourself. On its own, your hand gripped the ripped hem of Chris’s tank and held it tightly. Chris glanced back at you and you saw the same anguish you felt.

“I’m sorry about this folks, I really am.” He paused and shook his head before he continued. “You have each other though.”

An explosion shook the vessel and lit up the sky behind Harper.

“That’s my cue. Get outta here. I’ll do my part. Remember live your way, it makes death a peaceful conclusion.”

With that Harper hobbled away holding the railing.

“Go!”

He disappeared from view leaving the two of you sitting in the raft, in the pouring rain heartbroken and terrified. Another explosion erupted and Chris sprang into motion yanking the cord that controlled the motor startup. He yanked it once, then twice until it sparked alive on the third try. You both looked to the ship unsure what to do. The decision had been made for you, there was nothing either of you could do but go.

Slowly the raft began to drift away from the sinking ship and neither of you could peel your eyes away. Two more explosions boomed and then Harper’s voice echoed out.

“I’m coming, Angie!”

“Oh my god,” you whispered dropping your head to the surface of the raft. Your cry was loud and showcased the tragic sadness before you.

You watched on before another and final grand explosion ripped the ship apart sending parts every which way.

“Fuck!”

Chris leapt for you throwing his body over yours using himself as a shield to protect you. The sound of flying metal around you only made you scream more and more. Still, Chris didn’t come off of you, he kept his body over yours while maneuvering the rod steering of the raft. After the sound of flying metal subsided and the warmth of fire died down Chris rolled off of you. There was nothing to be seen except the fire from the explosion that was quickly being extinguished as the rest of the ship sank to the depths of the ocean.

“Oh my god, Harper.”

“God,” Chris groaned out, dropping his head down. “Rest in peace.”

There it was. Death. It was staring you right in the face and you feared it hadn’t had its fill quite yet. Your sobs returned and soon they were the only sounds traveling across the water, along with the motor. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes as you both tried to digest everything that had just happened and how everything had gone so wrong.

“What’re we going to do?”

It was a question asked just above a whisper. A question that held so much uncertainty, a question that also brought so much fear with it. What were you going to do?

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

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

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#hibiscus kisses fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #slow burn fanfic #vacation fic #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #chris evans au

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