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flamingo-writes · 3 years

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It's Better When The Sun Goes Down — Nanami x Reader

This is a piece for the Anilysium Server NSFW Collab! Make sure to check the masterlist to see other writer's works! This month's prompt was: "I can't hold back anymore"

I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to one of my dearest and closest friends. I'm not a Nanami simp myself, but they are. And I have fun writing for Nanami, and also I love writing angsty things and flawed characters. Reg, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoy my more casual writing.

(it's pink bcs youre Chancho)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Mentions of breakup and heartbreak, alcohol and drug consuption, public sex, ghosting, lots and lots of angst. This does not have a happy ending. This is also non proof read bcs I kinda left it to the last minute I'm sorry, I'll go back and edit it when I am not in a rush dcj nd

Summary: Nanami’s return to the Sorcerer life wasn’t so bad. It could be better if Gojo wasn’t determined to get him back with his ex. As Nanami tries to get on good terms with them, things get out of control, only to end up where it all began.

I made this playlist while writing, in case you wanna listen to it while reading. Preferably listen to it without the shuffle, but you can hear it on shuffle, no biggie.

Nanami had forgotten how painfully unbearable Gojo could be. His return as a Sorcerer had been nothing out of the ordinary for a Sorcerer's standards. Missions here and there, or watching over some of Gojo's students. But God, he had surely stepped out of the line this time.

He couldn't even begin to explain how much he hated his current situation. Fighting by your side for the first time in years felt like rubbing hot oil on an open wound. The uncomfortable ignoring the elephant in the room between you two, as you two tracked and fought what felt like a million Curses.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, it felt almost nostalgic; though he'd then remembered everything else and immediately made his own reality bitter and awkward. Overshadowed by the advantage of years of experience ahead of him made him resent you even more. He knew it was childish and pointless to keep remembering everything that happened between you two, but that bittersweet memory would most likely keep him at bay.

You were still strong, witty, fearless, reckless and quick to act and defend yourself. The way you moved looked more swiftly and coordinated than you did back in your student days. Almost as if you were a professional dancer. He hated every bit of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking about you, and the possibilities of what you two would have become.

After the mission was over, no words were exchanged between you two. Aside from the: "Are you alright?" He told you as you simply gave him a thumbs up as you caught your breath drenched in sweat. An entire ride in an uncomfortable silence, until he reached the school and you got out of the car.

"Thanks. You did a great job. Keep it up" You said. Cold, and straight to the point. Closing his car door before he could reply. And soon, you were gone.

As Nanami tried to get his mind off the mission, Gojo made it difficult. He called him to ask for the details of the mission. He seemed amused and intrigued, as clearly you hadn't told him shit. And honestly, he could understand why. Gojo was meddling on things that weren’t his business, and things that had died a long time ago.

"Why are you interrogating me, Gojo?" He asked as he pressed hisnfingers on the bridge of his nose. "Ask your underling…"

"Because that jerk left for the bar as soon as they arrived" He explained. "And I know better than to annoy a drunk [Name], It took me a while but...I finally learned my lesson" He chuckled. “I knew they could hit hard, but damn, I had a big ass bruise…” Nanami could almost hear his stupid grin.

"You make it sound like it's a recurrent event" Nanami pointed out, slightly surprised as he didn't know you were a drinker.

"Oh, Nanami-kun, you really know nothing huh?" Gojo said, smiling widely as he had managed to manipulate Nanami into asking.

"Know what?" Nanami hissed as he now swore he could hear Nanami creepily grinning at his phone.

"No, nothing!” Gojo said as if it were nothing; trying and succeeding at peeking at Nanami’s curiosity “I'm not gonna talk over depressing things on the phone. Gotta go, bye! Kith kith, Kento-kun" Gojo sang and hung up, as he smirked, proud of his little mischief. He sighed deeply as he stretched in his bed. "Soon, those two will be back together" he smirked to himself.

Nanami hissed a curse under his breath as he locked his phone and threw it on his bed and went to the kitchen. If he had understood well, Gojo had just hinted at a possible drinking problem. He tried shaking his mind off of it. You couldn't, could you? You weren’t a drinker...You weren’t the last time he saw you. You were able to party and have fun without having to intoxicate yourself.

You were wild, cheerful, unpredictable. Everything he was not. And that’s what had made him fall in love with you back in your school days. You were so laid back, he could feel it permeating into him when you two hung out. The few times he’d broken rules was because you’d been the bad influence, however, you somehow managed to get away with it, and leave him with some distant memory in which he felt actually glad to be alive. He usually felt like he was walking on a cloud stuck in time, being present and enjoying the little things that made his everyday memories.

He’d really screwed up after breaking up with you...if he could call that a breakup... His life took a dramatic turn. And then, he turned his back to this world, and got immersed in the gray life the average man in Japan had. Away from what he's familiar with, away from his friends, away from you.

And now, apparently, you had a drinking habit. He wondered if he had caused it, or if he was one of the reasons behind it. The guilt started creeping in. The same guilt and regret he felt after ghosting on you. Not being able to bring himself to properly end things with you.

The guilt he’d managed to swipe under the rug for so many years creeped back out, and followed him around as the afternoon went by. After having a shower, changing into more comfortable clothes and in a lame attempt to cook dinner, he decided to test his luck. He put on a dark button down shirt and decided to go to the bar closest to the School. He felt the naive hope to find you there. However, if you had an actual problem, then his chances to see you there were higher.

Such was his surprise to find you there, trying to get rid of some insistent guy who kept talking to you despite your very obvious lack of interest. Before you could spot him, he watched you aggressively turn to the guy and talk to him in a rather rude tone. Sounding almost like a moody sailor as the guy’s face soon was washed with horror and disgust and walked away. As you turned your face back to your drink, your eyes scanned the bar, finally spotting him.

“Oh god” You whined as you pulled the glass to your lips. “It’s too early to be this drunk…” You hissed.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“Tell Gojo to go fuck himself…” You snapped at him as you stood up and stumbled your way to the bar asking for a refill. Nanami looked at you, feeling slightly sorry for your tipsy state, as he’d never seen you like that. And he knew being mad and drunk was never a good combination. As you turned around with your glass and made your way back to your table, you gave him a slightly repulsed smile. “You’re still here…”

“Gojo didn’t send me here, if that’s what you’re thinking” He replied.

“He might as well have manipulated you into doing so, has that crossed your mind?” You said with a sassy tone as you sat back down. “Why are you still standin’?”

Nanami took that as an invitation as he ignored your last comment, trying to refuse the idea that Gojo had manipulated him.

“Rough day, huh?” He said as you nodded and stared at your drink.

“Look, Kento. I’m glad that you’re back. I really am. You’re strong, and you’re smart…” You began. “But I’m gonna cut the chase, I’m kinda annoyed too. Ever since you got back, Gojo has been sticking his snobby nose into my business” You explained. “Many of the missions he sends you in, I’m supposed to be there as well, but manage to get busy by then and not go”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?”

“Yes” You replied bluntly. “Mostly because Gojo is trying very hard to bring us back together. But no, I learned my lesson the first time” You said taking a sip to your scotch, feeling it smoothly sliding down your throat, no longer feeling the burn from the alcohol.

“I haven’t apologized for that…” Nanami began.

“Don’t” You interrupted him. “It’s better this way”

“Are you sure? Because you still seem to have an issue with it…” Nanami said, managing to read you like an open book like he always did. He still had that ability.

You glared at him, angrily as you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but your mind was foggy and a big portion of your brain was focused on the little details surrounding him. His black shirt, the first buttons undone. His thick wrists, one of them hiding underneath a fancy looking watch, his blond hair pushed back, his sharp features...And god, his smell. The smell of his cologne luring you in like a fly to honey. Since any words made it to your mouth, your next step was to take another sip.

“You’re drinking too fast” He pointed out.

“None of your business” You said standing up and taking your wallet out and leaving a few bills on the tale. “I’m out” You said coldly and walked out of the bar.

Nanami sighed, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to get anything out of interaction. Aside from the pretty clear fact that you disliked him. However, he didn’t think of the possibility of you resenting him so much because you still had feelings for him.

As you walked out of the bar, the chilly wind hit the back of your neck, making you shiver. You cursed, knowing it was going to make you feel drunker faster. You made your way to the school with long steps, trying to make it to your dorm before your last drink made it to your head. Despite the cold wind, the hot tears in your eyes in a way kept your face warm. As you tried to keep yourself from crying, you heard steps behind you.

“Wait” You heard Nanami’s voice calling behind you as you stopped on command, against your own will. You swallowed the lump on your throat and managed to keep the tears still in your eyes, as you refused to look at

him. “At least let me walk you home. You can’t walk on your own like this…”

“Oh, so now you care?” You said turning around and looking at him, giving him a smug smile. “You’ve changed” You scoffed bitterly.

“Please” He said, knowing better than trying to argue with you.

Your stare on him softened, as something within you urged you to say yes. To have more time with Nanami and maybe cling to the bittersweet memories you were constantly reliving since his return.

“Fine” You said, very much to his surprise. He smiled and walked closer to you with the gentle smile that had been haunting your dreams as of lately.

“C’mon. My car is not far from here…”

You stopped coldly as he mentioned a car. Taking a second look at him, you wondered how much he’d changed. He’d become an adult through and through, hadn’t he? While you were still a mess...Or so you thought. To Nanami’s eyes, you were a far better sorcerer and warrior than him. And he envied you for it.

“Are you actually going to take me to the school?” You asked, suddenly growing suspicious of him, as you’d had plenty of experiences with strangers on the street and knew better than going into someone’s car in a drunken state.

Not that you didn’t trust Nanami. You didn’t trust yourself drunk.

“I was actually thinking of taking you somewhere for dinner and then to the school” He said.

“Not hungry”

“No, but you’re drunk. It’ll sober you up, and tomorrow morning you’ll thank me when you wake up without a hangover” He said as he walked towards his car.

“I don’t have any more money on me” You lied, looking for an excuse to avoid spending any more than necessary with him.

“I didn’t ask you if you have money” He said boldly as he managed to make you smirk for the first time since his return.

“Smooth, Nanami. You’ve grown” You said as you followed him.

The walk to his car felt like your chest burnt far more than the alcohol ever did. It felt bitter, it hurt and was nauseating. Was it really it, or was it the alcohol finally catching up with you? Like flashes of instant memories being erased from your memory, the drive to a restaurant felt like a poorly edited foreign film. The car felt like some intense themed park ride as you felt dizzy with the alcohol whispering everything you missed about him. It was gross and it was sickening.

The Ramen sign on the outside on itself managed to sober you up a little by taking your mind off Nanami. As you followed him, clumsily standing on your feet, you sat on one of the tables and tried to make sense of the dancing letters in the menu. More flashes of memories were taken off your head, as you wondered what was happening and how drunk were you for you to start blacking out.

“Not good…” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Nanami asked.

“No. Nothing”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m not”

“You’ll feel better in a bit. Don’t worry…” He said softly as he sipped from a soda you didn’t know he had. When had he ordered it? You looked in front of you to the nice surprise that you had one too despite not knowing how or when. “I ordered some ramen for you. Something spicy...It’ll sober you up faster”

You chuckled as you looked at him.

“And how do you know that?” You asked with a cheeky tone as he smiled softly.

“Went drinking a lot with friends from work” He said. “I learned a few things here and there”

More brief black outs kept lazily painting a rather miserable painting in your memory. As you ate your ramen, you found yourself relaxing more and more. Was it the hot spicy broth? In the beginning, the balck outs weren’t getting any less frequent, however, as the night went by, you found yourself sobering up like he said. Soon, the black outs were gone, however you were still somehow locked in a haze. Although it made sense. The amount of booze as well as the short time, it was going to take a lot more than just one hot bowl of spicy ramen to get you back to a sober state.

The conversation kept flowing comfortably as both of you ate. It was reminiscent of the old days, nostalgic and somehow morbid. As the both of you tried to grasp at the old days when your worries were limited to school work. Catching up like old friends who hadn't seen each other, as if you didn’t have hard feelings for each other.

After having finished your food, Nanami paid for both of your meals and went back out into the cold night. The sky black, stars hidden by the streetlights as you made it to his car and finally noticed the silver color in it.

As he drove back to the school, you noticed he took a small detour, instantly setting alarms in your head.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice considerably serious as he noticed the change in tone from the pleasant talk they were having in the restaurant.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go…” He said as he briefly looked at you and gave you a tender smile.

That smile made your heart uncomfortably skip a beat as you hated the effect he still had on you. You didn’t dare to ask any further as you slowly recognized the route he was taking. As he slowly took one of the roads towards the edge of the city close to the coast line. He stopped in a rather deserted place, as he got off the road and stopped the car.

Despite the lack of light, aside from the few streetlights, you knew exactly where you were. A whole in your chest opened dramatically as you felt your eyes tear up and happy memories attached to the location flooded your mind.

“Kento…” You said chuckling bitterly.

“When I said I wanted to apologize, I meant it…” He said as you clenched your jaw and looked out your window, avoiding his stare.

“And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it…”

“You’re still upset about it, I get it. And I don’t blame you” He began as he felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Look at me, please”

You wanted to say something to him. But you knew you would break down crying as soon as you opened your mouth. You took a deep breath and without saying anything you looked at him. His dark brown eyes gazing into yours, as he was looking at you with a rather pained stare.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” He asked.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clicked your seatbelt, getting it off.

“I’m done” You said dryly as you opened the door and got out of the car.

“No, [Name]. Please, wait” He said as he mirrored your movements and excited the car walking around it.

“Of fuckign course I know where I am, Kento” You barked as you walked away approaching the door. “I know where I lost my fucking virginity, okay?” You barked as you stopped coldly and looked at him, tears finally streaming off your face. “Look, I’ll make us a favour and summarize this conversation. Yes, you’re a fucking asshole for just taking off one day and completely disappearing. Yes, I’m still mad about it. No, I won’t take your apology. No, I don’t care about whatever shitty excuse you have for me to listen to you. You bringing me here out of all places isn’t going to change shit…” You spat all in one breath as you stopped and took a deep breath.

“I loved you, Kento. I really did. And it hurt to have you just dissipate like you were a hallucination or something...You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything! And one day I lost all of that. You ruined sex for me!” You yelled angrily. “I could never hold, kiss or sleep with anyone, because at some point I’d see your stupid face, and then be incredibly underwhelmed because I would not enjoy sex. I can’t feel anything anymore, Kento...The only way I can actually enjoy those things is by getting drunk or high” You admitted. “I can’t walk into bookstores, nor eat sandwiches or diet coke, nor drink tea because all those things remind me of you. And yes, it’s lame that all these years later I still care about those things. And this is why I can’t forgive you” You cried, as your voice shook.

Nanami’s heart broke little by little at each one of your words. He knew he’d screwed up and had hurt you deeply. But he wasn’t aware of the actual impact. He clenched his jaw as he felt his chest tight and a lump on his throat. Now the drinking problem made sense. Gojo had painted it like you were an alcoholic, but it wasn’t exactly the case. So you’d gone to the bar to get it off with some stranger, probably pretending it was him.

The dizzying pain and weight of his mistakes blinded him for a second as he walked towards you as you kept bitterly complaining. As you tried to walk away, you made a very poor effort as he caught up with you and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and shutting you up by pressing his lips against you.

The sudden surprise made your heart stop. Your mind turning numb and blank at once as you struggled to bring yourself to push him away. However, truth be told, you didn't want to push him away. The poor attempt to push him away was more than obvious. The strong fighter you were, barely making any physical effort. Nanami's hands wrapped around your back and pulled you close, squeezing you against him as he sighed into the kiss.

Finally kissing him back, you locked your lips against his desperately, eager to taste the lips you've been dreading in your dreams. Clinging to him like he was going to disappear again, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. Your chest pressing against him as he felt his own world getting blurry.

He broke the kiss pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” He whispered as you clung to him.

“I-I…” You stuttered, the words tasting bitter before they even made it to your mouth. “Fuck, I want you, Kento” You growled as he pulled you in, kissing you hungrily again.

His hands posessively clinging to you as he slowly guided you back to the car. One step at the time as you both melted in a hungry sour kiss. As you ran out of breath, you pulled away, gasping for air as you gripped his collar in your hands.

“I can’t hold back anymore” You said as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, walking back to his car.

Your words unleashed a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped a beat and raced like crazy, as his pants started feeling tighter on his crotch. He chuckled softly as he realized his own judgement seemed to have disappeared with that first kiss. And before you could even make it to his car, he gripped your hips and spun you around as he bumped his forehead against yours.

“I can’t either” He admitted as he guided you to the car’s hood and pulled you over it. Ass you sat on the warm hood, he got between your legs and you wasted no time wrapping them around his waist. He grunted softly feeling your crotch against his as you pulled him closer to seal your lips together.

As you soon were absorbed by the dizziness of your rising heat, his hand went to your bare thighs as he slowly caressed your skin, going up and lifting your skirt up in the process. A soft moan slid into his mouth as he gripped your ass softly and squeezed it. The way your skin got covered in goosebumps and how you jerked your hips made him moan in response.

It felt good, and intoxicating. The driving desire burning his insides. The feeling of desiring to taste you all over and have you shaking underneath him. God, he’d missed that particular rush of adrenaline. His body reacting to the deeply buried memories now loose. He felt like he was in the best high he’d experienced. Lightheadedness and presence in the moment, he hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

Your hands were slowly undoing his buttoned shirt and were quick to explore his warm skin. He pulled away from the kiss, gasping as he looked at you. Your devilish smile matching your hungry stare. You leaned forward kissing his neck, nibbling on his skin every now and then. His hand gripped your hair tightly, pulling it lightly, making you look up at him as he stared at you.

He leaned forward, kissing you once more, this time a lot more slow and a lot more tender. It was sweet and it was slow and it took you by surprise. You felt his sweet kiss begging you, still holding on to the feelings you both decided to drown unsuccessfully. It almost hurt. It was the kind of kiss that told you how much you missed and needed each other. How much you regretted the mistakes you’ve done.

As you melted against his lips, his hands slowly slid your panties off. You helped him lifting your hips a little but as you giggled against his lips.

“Eager?” You said with a playful smirk.

“You have no idea” He replied as he took off your panties and shoved them in his back pocket.

His hand made it back to your thigh, slowly going up until he palmed your hot sex. Stealing a gasp out of your mouth, he teasingly ran one of his fingers through your dripping slit, making him smile satisfied.

“I’m not the only one, huh?” He said as you looked at him with lustful eyes.

You took his glasses off and set them aside. You were about to go back to kissing his neck when he slid one finger inside of you effortlessly. A rather loud moan escaped your lips as you shut your eyes closed feeling your entire body tingle in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You smiled satisfied as you continued kissing his neck. Slowly, he got another finger inside. The delicious stretch of his second finger prompting you to bite his neck softly making him growl your name softly. His fingers explored the whole he knew so well, as he found your sweet spot almost by muscle memory. More moans came out of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

“Fuck, Kento” You hissed as you took off your top, not caring that you were outdoors and by the road. Up to this point, you were so pent up, you simply craved him like you’d never craved anything before.

Nanami wasted no time and kissed your neck, going down to your neck, gently biting your skin every now and then. Sucking delicately on your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long. He pulle dhis fingers out of you, clinging to your body desperately. As you laid on the car’s hood, you devoured him with your lustful eyes, begging him to get on top of you. Wearing just your skirt by this point, Nanami groaned at the plain sight of you.

He undid his belt and his pants. Your hands playfully teasing your own body in an attempt to drive him crazier and crazier. He cursed under his breath as he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his painfully hard erection out of his pants. You watched hi, intrigued, stretching your hands towards him, gently gripping his dick. His breath hitched and you smiled proudly.

Nanami leaned over the car hood, slowly getting on top of you, his shaft resting on your belly as he looked at how much deep could he go inside of you. His tip almost reaching you belly button, as the idea alone made a shiver run down his spine.

"Please, Kento" you gasped, need dripping from your voice as you caressed his dick

He growled softly as he pulled away softly, aligning against your entrance and slowly going in. You gasped, pushing your head back and pressing your hips against his making him go deeper.

Hissing your name, he jerked his hips, his tip.kissing your cervix as sudden rush of pain jolted through your body, followed by pleasure. You dug your nails in his shoulders as he thrusted back and forth, hitting all the right spots. The sound of his gasps and grunts hypnotizing as you got wetter by the second. His length coated in your juices, echoing in lewd wet noises.

He was rough. He usually was. Back in student days, he was particularly rough. As quiet and collected as he seemed, he sure got his stress out if his body through wild sex.

Relentlessly pushing against you, stretching you in such a delicious way only he knew how. Strong and aggressive movements as your walls swallowed him whole every time, breathless moans escaping your lips with every push. The cool wind kissing your skin, only enhancing his warmth.

As you felt your orgasm progressively approaching, the realization of how addicted you were to him hit you. He was everything you desired. And it was wrong. Before the feeling of uneasiness started to sink in, a sudden electric rush ran through your body. Painfully and soothing, as you tightly clenched around himbsoon numbed your mind.

As you came around him, your walls sucked him in tightly, as he was right over the brink, your velvet flesh pushed him off the edge. He didn't have time to pull out. And honestly, he didn't want to pull out. The way your walls milked him felt delicious. As he rode you through your orgasm, filling you up as his head felt dizzy and the world was spinning faster than usual. His hot seed coating your insides, as you shut your eyes closed, feeling the very last of your orgasm fading away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Loud pants echoing.

However, the world didn't quite return to its regular focus.

The rest of the night went by in a fuzzy hot mess of events. You returned to his apartment and kept feasting on each other, making up for the lost time. Both of you incredibly starved and needy, you desperately went at it over and over again. It was a rather long night. As you feared, no one made you feel as he did. All of him was addicting. His smell, his voice, his warmth, his skin...It didn’t matter how many strangers you fucked, or how drunk or high you were, he felt just right. He made you cum so easily, it seemed ridiculous everyone else couldn’t.

But you knew it was far more than that.

You were still deeply in love with him. No wonder why he had that effect on you. Just hearing his breathlessly gasp was enough to have you soaking wet and under his mercy. Between sweet kisses, fake promises and sweaty sex, he quite literally fucked you to oblivion. Until either of you could take it any longer and you two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long tiring night, as you knew many of your muscles were gonna be sore the next day. Your chest painted in red and blue bruises.

It was possibly one of the best night sleeps he’d had. In such a long time. The uncomfortable hole in his chest didn’t feel so wide now. Just like you, he didn’t know how much he actually needed you until now. His regrets, his guilt, the thoughts haunting him on how much of a jerk he’d been when he simply took off...All those feelings went away for a night. As he tasted the wonders of the universe under your skin. Feeling ecstatic and euphoric for the first time in years. However, nothing could’ve prepared Nanami for what he was about to experience when he woke up.

“What the hell is this?” Gojo asked as he waved around the folder you’d left a few hours earlier in the Headmaster’s office.

“Why the fuck do you care?” You said as you grabbed it, ripping it off his hands.

“You’re seriously leaving for Kyoto?” He whined.

“So my transfer was accepted? Great!” You said sarcastically as you opened the folder and saw the Headmaster’s seal at the bottom.

“What about Nanami-kun?” Gojo replied as the very last string of your patience snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Gojo! You tried to force us back together, but it’s not going to happen” You snapped. “I’m done. I’m done with him, and I’m done with you sticking your nose in my business”

“Do you really think that running away will solve anything? You’ll still be depressed as hell”

“The less I know about him, the better” You said as you turned around, hot tears blurring your sight as you headed with long steps towards your room. “I don’t trust myself around him…” You whispered. “He’s my weakness Gojo, I can’t let that happen…” You said coldly.

You’d left that morning very early, before Nanami woke up. And you left leaving no trace of you ever being there. Unintentionally doing the same he did. It was unintentional because you hadn’t done it out of spite. Your thought process had been simply. You preferred to not have that conversation and simply leave without him noticing. You had had the exact same thought process Nanami had had all those years ago.

You didn’t waste time and soon started packing your things to leave for Kyoto right away.

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roommatesandwiches · 4 years

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Hoof and Paw

An old Alastor x Reader WIP I found that I thought would be good enough to post but can't be bothered to finish. I've lost interest to write for Hazbin (and pretty much Hazbin itself) but I am writing an Invader Zim fanfic series (it's a Reader-insert, of course) if any of you are interested. As always, it's on my Ao3 account, TwinklingMayViolets (EDIT: I changed my username. It's dinosaurus_maj now)

I know this blog has been sort of dead, but like I said in the tags of my first post this is just for HH wips and nothing else so it will be pretty inactive most of the time.

Some context for the following WIP: I imagined the reader character to be a wolf demon and an Overlord and there are some descriptions of that here. You knew Alastor when you were alive and had (still has) a massive crush. You didn't know about his life of crime.

---

There he is. Alastor. The one and only. You sigh as you stare through the window, your eyes never leaving the brown-haired man you have been pining over since you were alive. He says something and his colleagues laugh. You don't know what the joke was, but you know that if you heard it you'd laugh, too. Alastor just had that effect on people, with his constant, bright and cheery smile and likeable personality. His good looks also played in the factor of women falling all over him, not excluding you.

A strong wind blows over you, threatening to steal the parasol out of your hands and lifting the skirt of your dress. You huff to yourself, brushing some stray strands of hair out of your eyes. You adjust the grip of your gloved claws on your parasol that effectively hid your more inhuman appearance from the living. Your ears squirm uncomfortably and irritatedly underneath your hat. Look at yourself. You're a demon Overlord feared all throughout Hell, and yet here you are, swooning over some human in the living world. He wasn't just 'some human', though. "You hunt?" "Yes. What of it?" "Nothing. That's just... A rather unladylike thing to do." "Sewing and cooking is not considerably 'manly' either." You find yourself sighing at the memory, at a time long past. This was your punishment. You had missed your chance when you were alive, and now you'll never get one again. There's a chance that he might follow after you into Hell when he dies--whenever in Hell that'll be--and you've heard of friends, families and lovers reuniting in the afterlife, but you shouldn't bet on it. Sure, you've got the money to now, but you shouldn't. The café bell jingles, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn away right as Alastor and the other men working at the radio station step out of the establishment, deep in a conversation you'd love to be a part of and once could've been. Shoot. Well, your time is almost up anyway. You better head to the rendezvous now before Lucifer makes on his own promise and leaves you stranded up here. Like Hell you're gonna lose all your hard-earned power and territory because you'd been staring too long at a man. Still... You had been hoping for more. It was merely wishful thinking, but you couldn't help it. Slipping a handkerchief out from your sleeve, you quietly drop it on the pavement and start walking. Please notice it, please notice it... "Excuse me, miss." Your ears almost knock your hat off your head when they prick up with excitement. You turn slowly, making sure to keep your head low and nose hidden behind your scarf. Your hat hides the rest of your pale face, but it shows just enough for your eyes to be able to meet his. They're just like how you remember them; striking ambers that steal your breath away and send your heart fluttering out of your chest. You never thought you'd ever see his bright, beaming smile directed at you again. In his hand he delicately holds the dropped handkerchief, offering it to you. "I believe this is yours?" His voice is like honey to your pointed hound's ears, sending your mouth curling into a smile on your face in a mirror of his own. "Yes, it is," you say, your voice embarrassingly soft and almost breathless. You reluctantly reach out, conscious of your clawed fingers hidden beneath your lace gloves. Without any incident, you accept the handkerchief and quietly release the breath you had been holding. "Thank you." Alastor gives you one last, wide smile that makes his eyes squint before rejoining his colleagues. You tear your eyes away before you can see him go. When Lucifer asks, you deny the tear that rolled down your cheek and tracked a dark trail on your pale skin. --- There's a purge going on all around Hell. It's not the yearly extermination, no. Another demon is going on a killing spree, and it's not like one Hell's ever seen, according to your allies that have been here for centuries and Lucifer himself, who's no doubt sitting with his wife and daughter in that fancy manor of theirs with buckets of popcorn as they watched the carnage unfold. You can't say that you're doing the same. You would've, if some of your allies hadn't gone ominously silent. Well, not exactly 'silent'. As soon as you lose contact with them, your radio would switch on and you'd hear their screams as this genocidal demon turned them inside out. You were impressed, but also on the defensive. Whoever this was obviously had some mad power if they can take down some of your long-standing allies and fellow Overlords. You'd love to run out there and face the challenge, but whatever rational thought and sanity you had left in your mind told you that that would be suicide. You didn't want to lose your territory as well along with your life. Besides, if this demon kept this up, they would become an Overlord in no time, and you could meet them then when they're not on a murderous rampage. So you're huddled in your bunker, cozied up in your chair with your wolves sitting around you as you cleaned your rifle. Your radio is playing the carnage from your coffee table and your puppies keep a good distance between it and them. You'd tried to mute it, because one could only listen to agonized screams and chaos for so long, but it wouldn't go any lower than it already was. This demon's power was rather interesting. What you found amusing was the jazz music playing as well as the bloodcurdling screaming. When this is all over, you'd love to exchange techniques and maybe form an alliance with him. He's quite the entertaining fellow. The demon is talking among the loud music and screaming. The other sounds are too loud for you to hear him clearly but you catch a few words now and then. He's cracking jokes in a chipper tone, as if he were simply having a grand old outing with some friends and not splitting heads and tearing out organs. There's a brief moment when the screaming stops, and you're able to hear him loudly and clearly. "We're all just having a clot of fun out here!" There's a squelch and a loud groan. "If any of my listeners would like to join, feel free to—" You don't hear the rest as his victim continues their pained screeching, which suddenly silences in the next minute. You don't really notice, though. Because this radio demon sounds strangely like Alastor. --- As many expected, the Radio Demon quickly rose in the ranks and is crowned the Overlord title overnight. You're envious of how quickly he's made a name for himself and yet you're intrigued. Just who was this fellow? How and why was he so powerful? You yourself had impressive power with the ability to create your hunting dogs, but it pales in comparison to what Alastor could do. Alastor. That's right, his name was Alastor, the same name as the man you had loved while in the living world. This may only be wishful thinking, but could he be your Alastor? The only way to find out was to meet him and see for yourself. That's why you're sitting in Lucifer's lounge this evening, awkwardly squeezed in the spacious room filled to the brim with demons. There are Hellborns and mortal souls alike present, some of them looking rather bitter at losing some good allies to a fresh manifestation. In celebration of the Radio Demon's beautiful mass-genocide and new title, Lucifer had arranged a gathering and invited all Overlords to give everyone a chance at forging an alliance with him—or to start a bloodbath, either is good. You had come just for the sake of meeting him and maybe exchange a few words, but you'd be lucky to even see him in this turn-out. You just might start the bloodbath now with how many times someone's stepped on your tail in the first hour already.

(Yeah, that's all. If you're curious: the Reader was supposed to see Alastor and not recognise him. You dance with him, and his voice sounds too much like the man you once knew. You both end up hitting it off and going out to either the balcony or just somewhere less packed to talk a bit. You ask him his name, you tell him yours, and after recounting some of your time in the living world you know for sure that this was your Alastor and he knows you. Idk what happens next, maybe he confesses that he has feelings for you and maybe you kiss or something. I think when writing this I hit the same problem as when I was writing Movie Night: I realised I had no idea how to write dialogue lol. Also, I think I wrote this while I was having ideas for part 2 of the Roommates series and abandoned this in favour of writing that.)

#reader-insert #alastor x reader #mentions of murder #mentions of gore #long post #fanfic #excerpt #writing #one-shot #wip #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #maj writes

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tertiaryunit · 3 years

Text

Holidays

Quick musings done because of insomnia. Apologies if there are a few grammar errors. CW: mentions/implications of abuse. /------------------------------------------------/

[Washington, D.C. December 17th 2051] Lawrence was curved on the desk in his office, the moon outside the window shining its ethereal light upon the dark city. His tired eyes were burning, fatigued after all the hours spent to compile a sea of paperwork. A little tower made of empty coffee cups threatened to collapse at any moment, but he didn’t care - after all, if they had fallen, he could have easily caught them. Without using his hands, even.

He had spent the entire day doing a week’s worth of work so that he could visit his father. Even if it wouldn’t have been for long, he didn’t care - it had been so many years since they could see each other in person - all they were able to do until now were sporadic phone calls.

Suddenly, the soon-to-be Director’s hands firmly grabbed his shoulders. The Psychic hadn’t even heard him come in and sneak behind his back, he was far too busy to make sure everything was in order before leaving... His body stiffened as a cold rush ran through his veins. Of course, Walton already knew about his plans for the following week. It wasn’t the first year nor holiday that Lawrence tried to meet his father. Simons’ words were nothing but poison coated with honey; sweet enough to mask his true intentions.

[”Mhm... Are you sure your father would want to see you? It’s been quite a few years since you saw him”]

He would carefully gloss over the fact it was because they (the MJ12) kept them both so busy that it was basically impossible to schedule some days off for whatever they wanted to do.

[”Don’t you think he would be ashamed, if he knew what you have done?”]

Of course, it wasn’t his fault if the boy tempted him. Those coy, stealthy looks he’d give him were clear signs. When he laid still and stiff as he was in that moment and let him do whatever he wanted to do it meant he was ok with it, wasn't it?

[”N-no, Sir... He wouldn’t. But maybe, my friends...”] “Reyes and Adept 34501? They don’t even know about your abilities! You are so out of control, you’d end up betraying your true nature... I am your only friend, the only one you can trust to look at you without fear”]

His old, callous hands cupped the young man’s head in a cold, emotionless caress.

[”How can I protect you, boy, if you don’t stay here with me? You can’t trust anyone else... Nobody cares about you the same way I do. After all, isn’t it thanks to me that you became so powerful in the first place?” “I’m grateful, sir... You are so good to me. I am sorry”]

Simons smiled and walked away.

[”I expect you to help me out with some matters later, Agent. Can I count on you?” “Yes sir. Of course, sir”]

/--------------------- [NOTES] ---------------------------/

Adept 34501 is a WiB you can meet in DX1.

I just wanted to write something that hits close to home, as my entire fanfic is after all.

Walton isn’t the type to be physically violent with Lawrence (besides, well, you know); he’s manipulative and has no problem victim blaming him/keeping him dependant. Also the whole “it’s thanks to me you became so powerful” is blatant gaslighting too because he just oversaw the tests...

#txt #The Crusader [Lawrence Carter]#The Demiurge [Walton Simons]

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ambersky0319 · 4 years

Text

Some random shit cause why not?

Gonna do this organized by pairing so

Creativitwins

When I say creativitwins btw, I mean no romantic relations between these two what so ever, and only mean their sibling relationship. RemRom shippers DNI/Do NOT tag as RemRom

They have a monthly prank war, most of it taking place in the Imagination so they can go all out but sometimes they'll do more harmless pranks on the others in the mind palace

If they have partners, they're best friends with the other person's partner

Ex. Intrulogical and Roceit = Platonic!Logince and Platonic!Dukeceit

Neither of them is King, and King is neither of the twins. It took awhile for everyone in the mind palace to accept this

They celebrate the split together, for awhile it was in secret. They spend the day just at each others sides and its the one day everyone can expect them to get along

They would murder for each other

Very critical of one another's partners if they have them

They both helped in creating the Dragon Witch, and the Dragon Witch has a strong bond with the twins because of this; the Dragon Witch was the last creation they made together before feuds started between them

Remus does very minor things that annoys Roman but Roman can't get mad cause they're really petty things and he hates that Remus knows just how far to push it

They binge movies sometimes, alternating between what each of them likes

They collaborate on fanfics together

Often times it's hurt/comfort fics

Remus is scarily good at writing fluff with very interesting descriptions and Roman's amazing when it comes to angst that can punch you in the gut in so few words

They are the matchmaking royalty of the mind palace, and know within hours when someone develops a crush

They both get very loopy whenever Thomas has a crush, and around 3am if Thomas hasn't gone to bed yet

They get into a l o t of fights, and often say many things they don't mean. They make it up usually but there are some things that were never resolved

Remus taught Roman how to sew, but he's awful at designing himself so Roman helped create Remus's outfit so that it didn't look like a fashion hurricane had wrecked his brother

Sometimes Remus will waltz into Roman's room when Roman is sleeping and just flop onto Roman

On these nights(it's always in the middle of the night) everyone will be woken up by unholy screeches from Roman as Remus refuses to get off him. Except Deceit, who sleeps with headphones on and music blasting cause he knows Remus will do some random loud shit at night and he needs beauty sleep

Both the twins can't recall any memories from King, but they have a journal left by him in the center of the Imagination and sometimes they'll just sit together and go through the entries

At the end of the day they have each other's backs and would do anything to protect the other

Kingceit

This is obviously before the split

King just always felt a certain curiosity when it came to the dishonest side, and Deceit didn't mind Creativity's company

When Virgil first forms they take care of him together

Deceit is tiny and King is pretty tall so King just loves to carry Deceit around and Deceit just lets him after awhile

King loves hearing Deceit sing

King also adores Deceit's scales, and he loves kissing every single one in the morning and seeing Deceit's human side blush

Deceit enjoys hearing King's random stories and ideas, and often helped expand them by asking questions

For a long time Deceit had some control over the Imagination because King gave him that ability, but after the split Deceit left all the control to Remus and Roman

Deceit still can't enter the Imagination after the split occurred, no matter how much the twins beg him to visit and see what they've created

King and Deceit's relationship just kind of works, y'know? And it just sort of happened over time and it just felt right to them

King is not allowed to cook. He does not fight Deceit's decision to ban him from the kitchen, as last time King tried cooking he nearly burned most of the house

King's great at decorating cake tho so Deceit bakes the cake and King gets free reign over how it looks in the end

They go to bed super early and sleep in till around noon, often drifting back and forth between sleep and consciousness

Both are absolute saps when they're tired and say the most cheesy shit to one another

Dukexiety

Late night conspiracies

They actually make a great team when protecting Thomas, none of the other sides realize that a lot of the things that Virgil worries over for Thomas's sake were things suggested by Remus(ex. "What if that guy drugged our drink and we end up being overcome with so much pain that it paralyzes us and we can't call out and he ends up killing us" turns into "hey lets not drink this in case someone messed with it")

Virgil loves listening to Remus's stories, and is often one of the first to read them(after Remus tells him anything that might be triggering so Virgil knows if he could take it or not)

Remus is a cuddle monster but respects when Virgil doesn't want to touch anyone and usually asks if Virgil would rather be alone or if Remus could like, hang out on Virgil's floor for a bit of something

Remus made Virgil's hoodie

They both stay up incredibly late just talking about anything

And they both get up incredibly early

Logan scolds them constantly that they should sleep more

Virgil one time made a playlist for Remus to use when writing and Remus fucking cried while almost squeezing the life out of Virgil in a hug

Virgil's also drawn fan art for Remus's work but never intended to show Remus cause Virgil never thought he was any good

Remus found his sketchbooks one day and tackled Virgil in a hug the next time he saw Virgil

Virgil loves holding hands, so if cuddling is too much they'll just hold hands and sit side by side doing their own thing

Virgil absolutely loves Remus's tentacles, they're incredibly useful and whenever Remus uses them to hug Virgil, Virgil never feels safer

Virgil is strong as hell and just carries Remus bridal style sometimes

Virgil does Remus's makeup

Remus calls Virgil his Scare-bear and his Starshine, Virgil calls Remus his Gremlin and Bastard Husband(Remus grins ear-to-ear at the nicknames)

Also common when they're both sleep deprived and sappy and shit are Hon, Love, Darling, Dearest, Honey-Bear, Light of my life, Night to my day, and Moon to my stars

Intrulogical

They're both enthusiasts of forensic shows and murder mysteries

The show Forensic Files? They binged every episode together. They try to figure out who the culprit was before the episode ends and it's revealed. Remus has been correct 5 more times than Logan, however they both often get it right

Remus is on amazing terms with the Dragon Witch and the Dragon Witch ends up officiating at their wedding

Logan patches up Remus whenever one of Remus's creatures hurt him

Logan will edit all of Remus's works, as well as help develop ideas by giving feedback or ask questions or just listen to Remus ramble

Logan loves Remus rambling and will get comfortable wherever they are cause it can go on for hours

Not that he minds

Remus is Logan's Duke and Logan is Remus's Star

Remus is very easy to fluster

Especially when Logan says he loves Remus. Even after the thousandth time Remus turns crimson

Fucking dramatic these two are with their romantic gestures and yet still somehow keep their relationship hidden for years

Remus loves Logan's room cause it's actually very calming and it's filled with a bunch of soft chairs, piles of pillows and blankets, and an air mattress in the corner if anyone wants to sleep in Logan's room for the night

Logan was shocked that Remus's room was actually pretty organized. Still messy, but you could definitely find anything you needed by just glancing around

They both enthuse about space

Remus created a constellation in the Imagination and named it Logan

He also regularly creates new constellations there so Logan can find them and name them

Logan definitely writes fanfics based on Remus's stories

Remus breaks down the first time Logan says he loves Remus, and the night ends with him holding Remus close and uttering the words softly over and over

Remus loves hearing Logan read and sometimes if Remus can't sleep Logan will just read to him

Anxceit

Virgil and Deceit have many debates, they're friendly though and they both agree before the debates that they'll keep it friendly

Deceit's great at getting Virgil out of a panic or anxiety attack

Deceit uses all six of his arms when cuddling Virgil, playing with Virgil's hair or hands and holding him around the waist or stomach

They bake together a lot. Virgil has a massive sweet tooth

Will stab a bitch if you hurt the other

Virgil really loves to paint Deceit's nails

He also sometimes uses makeup to cover up Deceit's scales when Deceit gets really self conscious about them. Once the makeup comes off though Virgil will pepper kisses over the scales and run his fingers over them lightly and tell Deceit how gorgeous he looks

On the flip side Deceit loves his scales and so does Virgil cause they glimmer in the light

Virgil adores drawing Deceit

They do holidays in an anti way and do the opposite of everything you're supposed to do

They just sort of had an agreement that they'd get married and then they did, no big wedding or anything

Everyone was shook when they learned that the two were together, more so married

Both love cuddling and hold each other whenever. But they still have their different rooms cause sometimes you need a break y'know?

Sometimes they'll sit together in relative silence doing their own thing but like, leaning against one another lightly as they do it

Deceit monitors Virgil's coffee intake

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alonelytinywriter · 4 years

Text

Excuse Me?

Anonymous said to alonelytinywriter:

Can I have a Hawks x reader where she's in japan and she's homeless and she steals Hawks coffee outside a coffee shop and he just - "EXCUSE ME?"

Ooooooo, Darling, you better bet. I still don’t do readers, though, sadly. It just doesn’t flow well with my writing style and makes it where the stories just don’t sound . . . good? I hope you’ll forgive me! If you like what you read don’t forget to drop a big fat heart on this fic (Support your local fanfic writers!), and let me know what you’d like to see next.

Warnings: There be soft smut here. And Hawks actually being a soft guy, and some heavy language because OC is a 2 kool 4 skool. Very soft Hawks. Warm Hawks. Gentle ball of . . . feathers doesn’t sound as good. Lets be honest, this prompt got me feeling a certain kind of way, and I really just wanted some self indulgent comfort.

Soft Yandere! Takami Keigo (Hawks) / Original Female Character

Playlist - Hitohira No hanabina - Stereophony

Name: Sato Ichika ~ Birthday: April 21st ~ Age: 19 ~ Hair Color: Blue ~ Eye Color: Green ~ Gender: Female ~ Height 5’0’’ ~ Quirk: Specter ~ Occupation: Subway/Train Musician

Appearance ~ Ichika is a fairly short girl with a rather full physique despite her willowy appearance. She has dark blue hair that falls just below her collar bones and crystalline green eyes that point slightly outward, which seems to resemble a cats. Due to her Quirk, Ichika’s skin is ghostly pale, almost stark white; using her Quirk causes her skin to fade to transparent at her hands and feet, while her hair begins to float about her head and face as if she has her own personal breeze. ~ Ichika’s appearance has always been a bit of a sore spot for her, making her an outcast at an early age. After becoming a teenager she began to dress to suit her appearance, adopting a punk/grunge style with lots of fishnets, oversized sweaters, dark colors and darker makeup. Now she wears next to no makeup, unless you count chapstix, but she still dresses the same.

Quirk: Specter ~ As her name-sake suggests Ichika, when activating her Quirk, can float, as well as permeate any solid object. - It should be noted that while she can permeate through another living thing, the effort is nearly enough to make her pass out. - She also has the ability to manifest and maintain ghostly images that have been known for their ability to produce sound, though not their ability to interact with the corporal world, something which many thought as the hindrance which held Ichika from becoming a Hero. Ichika uses the ability to preform on the subways and trains to earn money throughout the days and nights. As mentioned before, while her Quirk is activated her hands and feet become transparent and her hair floats - the longer her Quirk is activated, the farther the transparency will travel up her limbs. This can be dangerous for Ichika, as it becomes harder to control her Quirk and once 100% transparency has been archived, Ichika has been known for blacking out and even attacking those she considers friends. Due to this, Ichika refuses to use her Quirk for longer than 1 hour at a time, at which time the transparency will only reach her elbows and knees.

Power - 2/5 ~ Speed - 2/5 ~ Technique - 5/5 ~ Intelligence - 3/5 ~ Cooperativeness - 3/5

~Excuse Me~

~ The first time Ichika stole she thought she was going to throw up. Or maybe that had been the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything in four days and only drank stagnant water from a broken fountain. It had been three rice balls shaped to resemble cat heads from a small grocery market and when she had walked through the doors after slipping the plastic wrapped food under her sweatshirt, she had been sure that the nearest employee would appear and scream THIEF into her face before calling for the police. She would go to jail or worse - go home to her parents and their cross expression as she turned out exactly the way they believed she would. But they didn’t. No alarms sounded, no one tried to drag her back into the market, no one seemed to notice at all. They had tasted amazing - even the one she dropped on the sidewalk and had to fish from the gravels - and the glow of victory had stolen over her like a living thing. Each stole item felt lighter in her fingers as she took them, her natural dexterity and knack for misdirection making her a perfect pickpocket. The fact she could use her Quirk to preform on the train - simple musical sets as she danced and allowed her ‘Ghosts’ to make the music - helped to distract the silly sheep around her and she danced and slipped past. Fingers found wallets, watches, an elderly woman’s bracelet, a single diamond hoop earring, a cup of coffee -

~ “Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?”

~ Now. Now, Ichika knows she’s going to vomit. She can feel the bile churning in her stomach as she turns towards the voice - Gods above, why did it have to be his coffee? - and confidently meet the bright golden eyes of the Number Two Hero - Hawks. Of fucking course. Of course there was a Hero on the train. But she stamps down the rising horror and smiles brightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the Hero isn’t stupid and he snags her wrist before she can skip away, turning it so that the hand hold the large coffee showed the name scrawled across the front - HAWKS <3. Him turning her wrist does something worst, though. It rattles to hidden pocket in her sleeve and makes several of the stolen items to rattle to the floor of the train. A man to her left quickly recognizes his wallet at the top of the pile and frowns, looking for all the world as if he might attack Ichika at any moment for having dared stolen his belongings.

~ “Shit.” Ichika activates her Quirk without thinking, her hair whipping about her face so quickly that it surprises the Hero into letting her go and she rushes to go above the others heads, straight up and through the roof of the train and into the sky above. Her heart is racing painfully against her chest as she slips through the metal as if it’s no more than water, thumping so quickly that she can feel the pulse beating against her sternum when she lays her hand there to calm herself. There was no way the Hero wouldn’t know what she had been doing. He would come looking for her soon, if he hadn’t already called for the train to stop. She needed to leave, and fast. It wasn’t the first time she had been caught in the act of taking what wasn’t hers, and normally it didn’t bother her to know that people knew what she did but there had been something in the Hero’s eyes as he stared at her in disbelief that set Ichika on edge.

~ She landed three miles away panting and covered in sweat from the effort of keeping her Quirk active for so long. Her vision was blurry, and she could feel the Earth swaying beneath her feet, rocking like a ship during a typhoon. She was still holding the damned coffee. Sighing, she allowed the transparency to fade from her skin, until she was whole again, until she was her again, and then she took a long draft from the coffee quickly cooling in her hand. It was intensely sweet, chocked with sugar and caramel until it reminded her of a milkshake instead of a coffee drink. Crinkling her nose at the intense taste of sugar on her tongue, Ichika forced herself to take another swallow before she started walking. She was only a few blocks from the grate that would lead her to the abandoned platform she used as a hideout, and she needed the energy to make it on foot since she had pushed her Quirk so far. Her heartbeat was still beating in her ears, a steady thwump thwump thwump . . . that didn’t match the beat of her heart at all.

~ This is all the time Ichika has before a dark shape hurtled from the sky above her, a laugh as dark and rich as honey sounding through the air. Hands clutched the back of her shirt and her feet her jerked out from beneath her as she was lifted forcefully into the sky. “Well, well, well, look what we found here.” Hawks voice is just as smooth as his laugh. “What do you think you’re doing, kid? Taking things from strangers is dangerous stuff, don’tcha think?” Ichika screamed, her Quirk flaring to life and sending her slipping from his grip. But it was too much. She had used her Quirk too much, since first thing that morning in fact, and the transparency had already been working well up towards her elbows and knees and she was too tired and she really hoped the Hero would at least take the time to make sure she didn’t die when she fell. Between one heartbeat and the next she slipped unconscious, her eyelashes fluttering to hide her sea-glass eyes and putting and end to the chaotic string of thoughts racing through her mind.

~ She has no clue how long she’s been asleep, how long she floated in the inky darkness, but when she opens her eyes she finds a ceiling above her head that for certain wasn’t the ceiling of the abandoned subway station. And there, next to her, laying in the soft bed with nothing but a pair of boxers was Hawks. He wasn’t ugly - not by any means with his smooth skin and thick hair and his muscles . . . But why had he taken her? She tried to scoot away but Hawks mumbled something in his sleep - something intellagable - and pulled her closer, forcing her front into his side.

Ichika jerked away so hard she fell from the bed, landing in a heap of blankets and sheets hard, making her cry out as her hip connected with the hard wooden floor. Hawks is up in an instant, looming over her, laughing softly. “What’s the matter, kid? Isn’t this a whole lot better than the place you where heading?” Hawks was already unwrapping her from the blankets and Ichika was trying to desperately separate herself from both them and him. She had to get away, get away, get way - why and the fuck was she in a bed with him and not in jail?? - but then Hawks hands are on her arms, hoisting her up, pulling her against his chest. “Don’t bother trying to use that Quirk of yours, kid. I’ve got a Quirk canceling cuff on your ankle, so you’re not going anywhere.” Ichika wants to speak, wants to ask exactly what the hell is going on, but he continues before she can. “I’ve been watching you for weeks, you know. Letting you get away with picking those peoples pockets. Watching you dance and trick your way into getting away with your loot, kid. It was hilarious watching you, knowing you thought no one knew. And you’re damn good, kid.” Ichika was shaking, pushing against his chest, trying to get away, but Hawks just held on tighter. “Awww, c’mon, kid. This is much better than a jail, isn’t it? I might have taken you, but I also made sure you didn’t turn into a pancake on the side of the road, you know?”

~ Ichika could barely remember her encounter with the winged Hero, and as her eyebrows furrowed, her sluggish memory trying to piece together what his words meant, Hawks wings curled around them both, encasing them in the soft red feathers. “It’s not so bad. I can feel your heart beating, you know? So hard, and fast against my chest. You don’t gotta worry, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I have plenty of time to make you change your mind.” His fingers where running across the skin of her back - she was only clad in her bra and panties - and he allowed his nails to drag across her spine, making her shiver. “But I can already tell you, I decided weeks ago I was gonna bring you home, kid. I knew I wanted you. I just had to wait till I could catch you and guess what, kid - I did!” He hugged her closer to his chest, his cheek resting against her hair. “And I’ll keep you here as long as I need for you to want me the same way I want you. See, not a lot of people know this, but I’ve been working both sides for a while. I’ve got enough saved we can go on a nice long hiatus and it won’t bother me a bit. Pus, I’m raking in loads of cash for all the wrong reasons, and I have all the time in the world to be able to shower you with enough affection and attention, and I can make you love me.”

~ Hawks voice was low and rough, like gravel and Ichika couldn’t stop shivering. She was still held against his chest, desperately trying to move herself off the Hero’s - Villain’s? - lap, but the more she moved the more pronounced Hawks attraction became for her. He was still talking, whispering dirty, senseless declarations of love and affection against her ear as his fingers continued to skim across her skin, but Ichika couldn’t seem to find her voice. She was in shock. What was going on?? what was going on?? What was going on?? What was -

~ “I’m sorry.” Hawks cooed into her ear, his beard scratching softly against the soft skin of her cheek before he forced her to look into his eyes. “Didn’t I make it clear enough? You’re mine now. You’ll be staying here with me, until the unforeseeable future, and you’ll be paying me back for that coffee you decided to steal this morning.” Ichika was already thrashing in his arms before he finished, and he allowed her to tire herself out, panting in his arms before he continued. “It won’t be that bad, kid. Look kid, I’m a mess, but I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you’re safe and feed and you have a roof over your head. And I won’t hand you over to the police. How does that sound?” Hawks sat there, waiting for her response, knowing that she didn’t have a choice. But for the moment he allowed her to mull over the supposed ‘choice’ he had given her.

~ Ichika’s mind was racing; she could fight - without her Quirk she would loose. She could play along and try to escape but what would she do? What would he do? He would go to the police, tell them everything, and then where would she be? In a jail cell, and there would be no one there to bail her out. Her body drooped as she came to her decision, every muscle in her body going lax as tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. Hawks nearly felt bad as he watched the girl deflate in his arms, and he nudged her cheek with his nose, a teasing smile spreading across his lips. “Maybe you should tell me your name?” It falls from her lips easily, and Hawks repeats it, rolling it across his tongue, enjoying the way it tasted in his mouth. He’s still saying it when his lips begin to brush across her neck, her hair falling across her shoulders like a waterfall. His nails dug into her skin as she shivered, the tears finally spilling. Her skin was so soft, her hair like silk between his fingers. There were freckles scattered across her body, freckles that shone against her skin like fragments of opal when Hawks laid her back on his bed, her bra discarded to the floor. His fingers dipped across her skin, her voice raise’s and falls in sync with Hawks movements, and by the end the blush spread across her cheeks matches Hawks face perfectly.

~ “You’re gonna stay here with me for now on, kid. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

#no beta ill die a (wo)man #yandere hawks #yandere thoughts #yandere #yandere bnha #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia

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peculiar-sunshine · 4 years

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Forgetting How To Feel (Sodapop Curtis x Reader)

UPDATE: I wrote a second part to this. Click here to read it!

Greetings, friends!

I had fun writing the Dallas Winston fic the other day, so I decided to try my hand at writing one about my husband, Sodapop Curtis (swoon ). But my problematic ass seems to only be able to write depressing fanfics. 😅😅😅 So here ya go, please enjoy this shitty story, and if you like it enough to want me to do a Part 2, I definitely will!

TRIGGER WARNING: strong language and mention of alcohol usage

“Soda,” you sobbed, “I don’t…I don’t understand. Why are you breaking up with me?”

You hadn’t been dating Sodapop Curtis for very long, only about a month or so. But you two had been best friends since the day you met, practically super-glued to each other’s hip. You and him had spent many days together causing mischief in the streets of Tulsa, and many nights climbing up on the roof of your house and gazing at the stars while talking about cars, sex, Elvis, childhood, heartache, and everything in between. Soda was your partner in crime, the peanut butter to your jelly, the missing puzzle piece to your jigsaw puzzle that you had finally found under the couch and could now feel complete with. It was only a matter of time before you fell hopelessly in love with him. But then along came Sandy.

Sodapop never believed in ignoring his friends on behalf of romantic relations, so you and him continued to be best buddies even after he asked Sandy to be his girl. He would often bring you along whenever he took Sandy on outings, and likewise brought Sandy along on his adventures with you. You liked Sandy okay, she was a nice girl and seemed to be good to Soda, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart burst into pieces every time he put his arm around her shoulder or gave her a kiss on the cheek.

But then the Dear John letter came, and the next thing you guys knew, Sandy was whisked away to Florida, taking every last bit of Soda’s heart with her and leaving behind the catastrophic mess for you to pick up.

For the first few months, you did everything in your power to keep Soda’s mind off of her, often to no avail. You took him to the movies, but every actress in the film reminded him of Sandy in some way. You tried to teach him how to cook, but it only made him think of the times in which Sandy would bake chocolate cake for him. Even when you made him help you study for your tests in school, solving the math equations in your textbook somehow managed to stir up her memory. But as time went on, the bewitching blonde bitch seemed to fade from his mind and things slowly returned to the way they used to be.

They didn’t stay that way for long, however, as Sodapop began to get a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he heard your laugh or saw your smile. He couldn’t explain it, he spent nearly every moment of every day with you, yet he felt an unbearable ache in his heart when you were away from him. He never felt this way with Sandy, or with any girl he’d been with. He decided that the best thing to do was to ask you on a date to The Dingo, where you two spent the evening talking and laughing and dancing and having a fantastic time. He felt high in the sky on Cloud Nine, and on the walk home later that night, he stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk, pulled you close to him, and gently kissed you. And the rest way history.

But now here you were, standing on his front porch with tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the boy you loved tore your heart to shreds.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, but I…I don’t think this is working out.” Soda said, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“What the hell do you mean it’s ‘not working out?’ We’ve been so happy together, haven’t we?”

He didn’t answer. All he could do was shove his hands in his pockets and stare at the ground.

“H-Haven’t we?” you asked again.

“…Look, Y/N, you’re amazing in every way, but the thing is, well, I think I’m…still in love with Sandy.”

You were absolutely stunned.

“And it’s not that I don’t love you or anything, you’re such a good friend and you’ve been nothing but nice to me and all, but I don’t wanna lead you on like this when I love someone else…”

All the muscles in your body seemed to contract and keep you frozen, absolutely still, in the spot you were standing in. The tears were now falling down your cheeks, but you couldn’t even move your hand to wipe them. You wanted to pour your heart out to him, but your tongue felt like a lead weight in your mouth. You felt like you had just lost the ability to breathe.

“Y/N? Please say something.”

Suddenly, you felt all the boiling-hot anger rise up in you. “Oh, I’ll tell you something alright.”

You vehemently drew your arm back and slapped him across the face.

“Fuck you, Sodapop Curtis. I don’t ever want to see your miserable fucking face again. You can go straight to hell and take your precious little slut with you.”

You turned around and leaped off the porch, raced across the yard and began to sprint down the sidewalk as far away from the Curtis house as you could possibly get. You could hear Soda calling after you, imploring you to come back, but you blocked him out. You had to or else you knew you would go back to him, sobbing and begging him to forgive you and take you back. But this was it. Things were over now. And you knew they could never go back to being the same. Not after the way he ripped your heart out from your chest and stomped all over it as though it were a filthy cockroach.

You didn’t want to think about it now. You didn’t want to think about anything right now. You just wanted to go somewhere and forget everything that had just happened. You wanted to forget every goddamn thought and feeling that pulsated through your head with every step you took. Turning the corner and running to the familiar green house, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

Two Bit couldn’t even try to hide the shocked look on his face when he opened the door and saw you standing there, red-faced and panting like a dog in heat.

“Y/N? What the hell is going on?” he asked, dumbfounded.

After catching your breath, you recounted the whole pathetic sob story to him, feeling the tears stinging your eyes again.

“Aw, honey, come here.” he said, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you. You laid your head on his shoulder and bawled until you felt like your body couldn’t possibly produce any more tears.

“Two,” you said after you regained your composure, “you and me, let’s go get rip-roaring drunk. Right now. Whaddya say?”

“Get drunk? Y/N, you’ve never been drunk in your damn life!”

“So? There’s a first time for everything, ain’t there?”

“Well, yeah that’s true, but are you sure that’s what you wanna do?”

“Yes I’m sure. I wanna get so fucking drunk that I forget how to feel.”

“…Well…okay, but listen, you’re a lightweight, so you’re gonna have to take it slow, ya dig?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Mom. Now let’s go down to the store and score us some beer. I think I got money.”

“No need to, baby, we can always use the five finger discount.”

You and Two Bit linked arms as you strolled over to his car, got in and drove away. Sodapop Curtis who?

#the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #sodapop curtis #s.e. hinton #two bit mathews #depression #break up #headcanon #sad #sob story #sandy

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miguel-manbemel · 4 years

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Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 40: Cream of Broccoli Gone Horribly Wrong

Here comes a new entry of the main storyline of this fanfic blog inspired on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders, Joan S. and the Foster Dawg Team. I really thought I wasn’t going to make it this time, because I spent a lot of time working on the “Catching the Reference” video, so much so that I didn’t have any time to write. This episode has been written literally in the last five days. When I started, getting it finished for Sunday was only a hope. Thank goodness that the hope became a reality. And speaking about it, hope and the lack of it and it’s effect on Roman, who is Thomas’ hopes and dreams, will be one of the central topics of this episode. I leave you with it now, hope you enjoy it and until next time.

SYNOPSIS: After discovering that Thomas’ lack of hope is affecting Roman and making him sick, Virgil tries to take care of him and of their injured son Chris at the same time. Both of them try to convince him to ask for help, but Virgil stubbornly tries to do this on his own. But it’s been a week, Virgil’s strength starts failing him and he doesn’t know if he can cope anymore with taking care both of them at the same time. And, exahusted and overwhelmed as he is, when he tries to make Patton’s cream of broccoli to comfort Roman, disaster ensues...

WARNINGS: Romantic prinxiety and logicality. Mentions to illness and death. Angst.

EPISODE INDEX

[Virgil is watching TV, a show about conspiracies he’s enjoying very much. A voice is heard in the distance]

ROMAN: Sweetheart? Are you there?

VIRGIL: [sighs] I thought he’d sleep a little longer… [yelling] Yes, honey, I’m here! Do you want something?

ROMAN: I’d want a little glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, if it doesn’t bother you too much, my love! My lips are completely dry and I need something fresh to drink!

CHRIS: [also voice in the distance] Could you make another one for me, dad, please?

VIRGIL: [yelling] I’m right on it!

CHRIS: Thanks, dad!

ROMAN: Thank you, Virge, I love you!

VIRGIL: [yelling] I love you back! [sighs] Just when it was getting interesting… [turning the TV off and standing up] Okay… back to work again. Come on, Virge. You endured the Dark Master’s working conditions, you can surely survive this! Two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. And, as Janus would say, I’m totally not tempted to squeeze my hands in the squeezer so I can join these two in bed. Not at all…

[intro sequence]

[Virgil enters Chris’ bedroom]

VIRGIL: [giving him a glass] Here’s your orange juice, Chris.

CHRIS: Thank you, dad.

VIRGIL: You’re welcome. How are you doing now?

CHRIS: My leg itches a little less today. But the question is… how are you doing today, dad? I’m worried that taking care of us both at the same time can be too much for you.

[Virgil smirks with gratitude]

VIRGIL: Thanks for thinking on me, son. But don’t worry. I can cope.

CHRIS: Are you sure? Remember that grandpa offered to temporarily move in with us to assist you.

VIRGIL: Yes, I know, dad has always been that great with us, but I can do this, and I don’t want to disturb him when he’s just starting his new life with Logan.

CHRIS: It’s just that it worries me to be a burden to you, dad. If only I could get rid of this plaster. It was really bad timing that father got so sick right when I’m in this condition. At least I could have helped you take care of him, and now you’re doing this on your own. Look at you. You look so tired, and it’s only been a week.

VIRGIL: [smiling, trying to conceal his fatigue] Don’t worry about me, son. It is I who must take care of you and not the opposite. But I really thank you for your concern. [kisses him on the forehead] I love you. Now drink that juice before it gets warm. It would be a shame that the ice cubes I put on it got melted. And I still have to bring the other glass to your father.

CHRIS: Okay… [drinks the juice, then gives the empty glass black to Virgil] It was delicious. Thank you for your hard work, dad.

VIRGIL: You’re welcome. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, whatever that is.

CHRIS: Okay, I will. See ya later.

[Virgil leaves Chris’ bedroom and enters his own bedroom, whose bed Roman lies in]

ROMAN: Hi, Virge…

VIRGIL: Hi, Roman, how are you feeling now? Any fever?

ROMAN: I don’t know exactly, I didn’t check my temperature lately. The shivering and the cold feeling are already indicators, though.

VIRGIL: Let me see…

[Virgil puts his hand on Roman’s forehead]

VIRGIL: You’re burning hot. And I don’t mean your presence, which unfortunately, and I’m sorry, is anything but hot right now, sorry sweetheart.

ROMAN: [titters] Yeah, I can imagine… But the truth is I couldn’t care less right now about my appearance.

VIRGIL: Now I know you really have a fever. I was joking, though. Even when you look as bad as you do right now, I still can see that something in you that not even illness can take away.

ROMAN: So you’re basically saying that I look like a haunting ghost and as you love ghosts you enjoy my nasty look… I’ll take that as a compliment.

VIRGIL: It was a compliment and a truth. [takes a bottle of green pills from his pocket, the label, which has Thomas’ face smiling and looking at he sky with a dreamy face, reads “Thomas’ Hope”] Okay, it’s time for your medicine. Take one pill with the orange juice. That will make you feel better, at least for the time being.

[Virgil takes one pill from the bottle and gives it to Roman along with the orange juice]

ROMAN: Thanks. I owe Thomas and his friends so much for their efforts in trying to improve his mood. If it wasn’t for these little pills of hope Thomas generates for us, I don’t know if I would have coped at all… They’re the only thing that keeps me alive, literally. I hope, pun not intended, that they never run out.

VIRGIL: Me too, but remember what Logan said. You must take them fresh, because hope is strong and almost unbreakable when it’s the basis of a human mind, but it’s very fragile and gets spoiled easily when served in these small doses. So take it before it expires.

ROMAN: Okay. Can’t I have a double dose? The effect is so good, but lasts for so little…

VIRGIL: I’m not sure if it’s safe. I’d rather not take the risk until we ask Logan about it. It could be harmful for you.

ROMAN: [sighs] Okay, you’re right. Itadakimasu! [puts the pill in his mouth]

VIRGIL: What was that?

ROMAN: [still with the pill in his mouth] It was Japanese. Don’t you watch subtitled anime? They always say that before eating, as an expression of gratitude for the food they’re gonna eat.

VIRGIL: Oh, I see… You’re welcome, I guess.

[Roman swallows the pill with some of the juice]

ROMAN: Ah… this is so good. No one makes orange juice better than you, Virge.

VIRGIL: Heh… It was nothing special. If the oranges are good, the juice will be good, that’s all.

ROMAN: [grabbing Virgil’s hand] Don’t take merit from yourself, my Emo Dream-of-my-Lifetime, especially when I’m complimenting you.

VIRGIL: [smiles] Okay, I accept your compliment.

[Roman kisses Virgil’s hand, then they both look at each other for a couple of seconds with the most loving glance. It’s Virgil who gets out of this mesmerizing moment first]

VIRGIL: Okay… Now, I gotta go clean the squeezer, then I’ll make dinner. Do you want anything special for dinner tonight?

ROMAN: You told me Patton had given you his secret recipe for the cream of broccoli, right? That warm soup brought me back from the dead when I was feeling bruised. Maybe it could have the same effect with this fever. Could you make some? [puppy face and voice] Please? [suddenly serious] If it’s not too much work for you, of course.

VIRGIL: [shrugs] It’s okay by me. I have never made it before, but I’m willing to learn and if I follow the recipe, it shouldn’t be too hard. [yelling] What do you think, Chris!? Cream of broccoli for dinner!? With my dad’s recipe!?

CHRIS: [from a distance] Yay, I love Patton’s cream of broccoli! And broccoli is a good source of nutrients to help me effectively restore my bones too!

VIRGIL: Where did you learn that?

CHRIS: Uh… internet!? Oh, and grandpa Logan told me the last time they visited!

VIRGIL: [smirks] I thought so, you could only learn that kind of technical words from him… Okay, it’s settled, then. Cream of broccoli for dinner. I’ll start making it as soon as I clean the kitchen. Are you done with your glass, Roman?

ROMAN: [swallowing the last of the juice] Yes, I’m done. Thanks, Virge. I love you.

VIRGIL: I love you back, and you’re welcome. [grabs the empty glass] Now, try to rest a little bit while I’m making dinner, okay? Let the pill of hope make effect.

ROMAN: Okay. I really think I could sleep a little more.

VIRGIL: Dream a little dream of me.

ROMAN: All I do is dream of you my whole life through. [laying down in bed] See ya later.

[Virgil goes downstairs to the kitchen. He washes the two glasses, then cleans the squeezer, getting it ready for another use]

VIRGIL: Okay… now, to make dinner. I hope I have inherited some of my dad’s abilities to make that cream of broccoli.

[Virgil picks up his phone and starts reading the recipe Patton texted him]

VIRGIL: Okay, I need broccoli… Of course, Captain Obvious… I also need butter, an onion, a clove of garlic, three spoonfuls of flour, two cups of chicken stew, a quarter of liter of milk cream, two carrots… Carrots? Oh, well, Roman likes carrots. And Chris… He doesn’t need to know. And I also need salt, black pepper and cheddar cheese. Okay, time to summon it all. Here we go.

[Virgil summons all the ingredients, which appear on the counter]

VIRGIL: I wish I could summon the cream of broccoli itself already made… but I need to make it myself a couple of times before I’m certain I’m summoning it right. I wouldn’t want to serve my husband and son a bowl of swamp mud. Okay, let’s get cooking.

[Virgil starts following the instructions of the recipe. It’s not long before he starts getting anxious about the many steps the recipe has, some of them done at the same time. Soon, an awful smell starts filling the whole room]

VIRGIL: Holly sh… [bleep] ! The broccoli is burning! Oh, f… [bleep], the pan is on fire!

ROMAN: [distant voice] Virge? It’s something burning?

VIRGIL: It’s… it’s okay, Roman! I have it all under control!

[Virgil puts the pan on fire in the sink]

ROMAN: Remember, Virge, that you mustn’t try to extinguish grease fire with…

[Virgil turns on the water and a huge flame erupts from the pan, Virgil yells scared]

ROMAN: …water.

VIRGIL: [yelling almost hysterical] Okay, okay! Don’t worry, I… I knew that!

[Virgil looks for the fire extinguisher everywhere, on the verge of a panic attack. He finally finds it and extinguishes the flames that had already started burning the cabinets above the sink]

VIRGIL: Gosh… that was close… but I must endure. I need to make that cream of broccoli. And I’ll finish it even if I have to throw myself to the floor to grow the vegetables myself!

[Virgil approaches the counter, but he slips on a bunch of butter that had fallen on the floor in the confusion, and he loudly falls. He tries to hang on the edge on the counter, but he only manages to throw down everything that was there over him with a huge chaotic noise]

ROMAN: What was that? Is everything okay, Virge?

VIRGIL: [mumbling with a face of pain, covered with all the ingredients that fell on him] Aw… my arm… Talk about throwing myself to the floor… aw…

[soon footsteps are heard on the stairs and Roman appears wearing a dressing gown, white with a red belt and his logo on the left side of his chest. He’s also wearing golden slippers, and he’s carrying a walking stick, made of gold with the handle full of embedded rubies and amethysts. Roman looks horrified at the chaos in the kitchen, especially when he sees Virgil lying on the ground. Roman walks towards him, unable to run, but walking as fast as he can, leaning on his cane]

ROMAN: Virgil! Sweet Bette Midler, are you okay?

VIRGIL: [getting up with difficulty] Roman, you shouldn’t be up. Get back to bed, I can handle this.

ROMAN: Don’t worry, the pill has started making effect and I’m not feeling fever at this moment. And you obviously can’t handle this, anyone could see it. I’m so sorry I’ve made you go through this, my love. But not anymore, I swear.

VIRGIL: It’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to get sick, and it’s my duty to take care of you.

ROMAN: For starters, it never was a duty as in an obligation, and even if it was or rather you saw it as such because of your vows, you never vowed to do it all alone on your own. Logan once taught me that one mustn’t do things alone if they can gather a group of friends to help them. Now I understand what he meant and I agree. Virgil, I want you to call the others for help.

VIRGIL: So you think I’m not good enough to take care of you on my own, right? You think I’m not capable to do this?

ROMAN: You are capable enough, but capacity wears out with time for anyone, and there’s no need for you to do all of this all alone. Please, Virge, you need to rest as much as we do at this moment. Don’t you see we’re worrying about you and we’d feel better if we knew that you had some assistance? At least, let Patton come here to help you. He already offered to do so.

VIRGIL: But I don’t want to bother him…

ROMAN: [serious, firm voice] Either we call him or I call my brother Remus. You choose, but you’re no longer doing this alone.

VIRGIL: …or maybe it would be fine to call my dad…

ROMAN: That’s more like it. I knew I could convince you somehow.

VIRGIL: You say convincing, I say coercing. You know the mess that would happen if we bring Remus here to take care of this.

ROMAN: Whatever works… Will you call Patton or shall I?

VIRGIL: No, I’ll call him myself. And you’re going back to bed right now, mister.

ROMAN: I tell you I’m feeling fine at this moment. Call him. I’m not going back to bed until I see him here.

VIRGIL: [sighs] Okay… Dad! Dad are you there? Could you come here, please!

[Patton rises up]

PATTON: Hi, son. How are you do… [notices the mess in the kitchen] …ing now…? Okay I can see the answer with my own eyes… What’s happened here?

VIRGIL: Let’s just say that the cream of broccoli didn’t agree with me… while I was making it, that is.

PATTON: Okay, do not fear anymore. Your happy papi Patton is here.

VIRGIL: I hate so much bothering you… but Roman is right, I have reached my limit and I really need help.

PATTON: Hey, don’t worry, Virge. You are my son. You do this because you’re motivated by taking care of your son and husband, right? Do you think my motivation of taking care of you and your family, which is my family too, is any less strong? I’ll always be here for you, don’t you ever hesitate again to call me if you need me.

VIRGIL: Thank you, dad. Thank you so much.

PATTON: Okay, then first, Roman, go back to bed, you shouldn’t be up. Second, you, Virgil go have a shower and change your dirty clothes. And, even if you’re Vigilance and Anxiety, try to relax. Third, I’ll clean this mess before you have time to say “cookies”. And four, time to make some good warm cream of broccoli for my folks. [clapping hands] Okay, move on, now!

ROMAN: Wow, Patton, you really have your condition of dad in your DNA. You’ve organized all of our tasks in less than ten seconds…

PATTON: I said, back to bed, Princey, or do you want me to grab you there in my arms?

ROMAN: Okay, okay, I’m going, you don’t need to do that. [going upstairs] See ya later.

[Virgil also goes upstairs to the bathroom next to his bedroom. While getting a shower, he shows a face of concern while his thoughts are heard in an off-voice]

VIRGIL: [train of thought] Patton is saving the day this time… but I can’t rely on him for everything. I need to be self-sufficient. If I’m not capable of taking care of my own family… what kind of father and husband am I going to be? And Roman needs me… He doesn’t say it, because he pretends to be strong, like I do… but I know him very well. Behind that smile of assurance and that theatrical voice of bravery he displays… I can sense the fear in his eyes. He knows his life is on the stake and he doesn’t wanna die. I’m afraid to speak openly to him about that because I don’t wanna hurt or stress him… but I know he’s so scared. I wish he would open up to me, but opening up about his feelings has never been his strong suit… But is it him who needs to talk or is it really me? Is he the one who’s afraid to die… or is it me the one who’s afraid to lose him? Perhaps it is me who wants to talk to him about it… but I shouldn’t… Goodness, if I lose him… it will be like falling back into the Dark Realm again. He was the torch that guided me to the Light Side in the first place. It was literally his kiss what transformed me into a Light Side… and… I don’t know what I would do without him… [black tears fall down his cheeks, he cleans them and notices his stained hand] Oh, sh… I forgot to take my eyeshadow off before taking the shower. Oh, never mind, I’ll clean it later.

[Virgil gets out of the shower and wears a purple bathing robe. Right at that moment, Roman enters the bathroom. Virgil turns around quickly, trying to avoid Roman seeing his ruined eyeshadow]

ROMAN: Oh, sorry, I needed to go to the bathroom to pick up something and… Wait a minute. Have you been crying, Virge? Your eyeshadow is all over your cheeks

VIRGIL: What? Don’t be silly, it’s just that I forgot to take the eyeshadow off and the shower ruined it, that’s all. I…

ROMAN: You can’t fool me, Virge. I know you, and I can tell when you’ve been crying. What’s wrong, my love? You know you can tell me anything.

[Virgil turns around and looks at Roman. He’s crying again]

VIRGIL: I’m afraid.

ROMAN: Afraid?

VIRGIL: I don’t wanna lose you and I’m afraid that you could…

[Virgil gets choked up and covers his mouth and nose, desperately trying to fight the outburst of crying he can no longer hold back. Roman’s eyes get filled with tears again and he looks at Virgil with a glance overflowing with love]

ROMAN: Gosh… What have I done in life to deserve so much love from you? [opening his arms] Come here.

[Roman hugs Virgil tight until he calms down, then gives him a long kiss. Then he stares at him for a couple of seconds, still hugging him]

ROMAN: I’m scared too, I’m not gonna lie. Who wouldn’t be when his life is on risk? But I’m not gone yet, and while I’m here, I’m gonna keep fighting for my life, to keep on living, to keep on sharing my life with you and Chris, and the rest of our friends. You are the reason why I haven’t given up yet. So don’t give up either. I’m still standing and this illness won’t take me so easily. Heck, it won’t take me, at all. You’ll see. Okay?

VIRGIL: Okay…

[Roman kisses Virgil again, then Patton’s voice is heard from the bedroom on the other side of the door]

PATTON: Soup’s ready! Where are you, guys?

ROMAN: [still kissing Virgil, he groans] Mmm… I’m regretting Patton being here right at this moment…

VIRGIL: [kissing Roman’s cheek with a mocking smirk] It was your idea, Roman…

ROMAN: Yeah, I know… [gives Virgil a quick kiss, then releases him] Okay, let’s go. Now I’m feeling stronger than ever thanks to the pill… and this pill of love we’ve just shared. But I’m really in the mood for some warm soup. Aren’t you?

VIRGIL: Yeah, me too. But you go first, I’ll fix my makeup, then I’ll help Chris get to the stairs. It’s a good thing we can summon the chair lift at will to help Chris go up and down the stairs while his leg is still in the plaster.

ROMAN: Yeah, it is. Okay, I’ll be waiting downstairs for you two to arrive. I love you, my Hooded Dark Prince.

VIRGIL: I love you too, my Sir Sing-Along.

ROMAN: [opening the door] I’m here, Patton.

PATTON: Oh, there you are. [noticing Virgil in the bathroom before Roman closes the door behind him] I hope I’m not interrupting something.

ROMAN: No, we were just having a husband-to-husband talk we both needed to have, but we were done. I can’t wait for that broccoli, I’m hungry! My kingdom for a bowl of cream of broccoli!

PATTON: It’s a good sign that you feel hungry, kiddo. Let’s go.

[meanwhile, in the bathroom, Virgil cleans his face, then applies new makeup. Looking at himself in the mirror, he smirks]

VIRGIL: Things are coming rough right now… but as long as we’re together, we’ll get through it, I know.

PATTON: Virgil, your soup will get cold! I already helped Chris down the stairs, so hurry up, we’re all waiting down here, all the four of us!

VIRGIL: [changing to his usual outfit, then opening the door] Yes, I’m ready, dad! Don’t eat all the cream of broccoli without me! Wait… did he say the four of us?

[ending card]

[Roman, Virgil, Patton, Chris and Logan, who’s joined them, are eating the cream of broccoli on the living room’s table]

LOGAN: I give you my thanks for inviting me to dinner tonight with all of you. This cream of broccoli is more than adequate, Patton.

PATTON: Thanks, Lo. It’s the least I could do, inviting you for dinner, when I’m gonna have to spend a few nights here to help them.

VIRGIL: What? No, dad, that won’t be necessary. You can perfectly go home tonight with Logan, we can survive the night on our own, cause the only thing we’ll be doing is sleeping. And if anything goes wrong in the night, the only one who could get up anyway is me. You know you all fall asleep while Thomas is sleeping.

PATTON: Yeah, I know I’d spend the night sleeping in spite of myself… but I’d probably have nightmares all night out of the concern. If I was here, I’d feel more relaxed and my dreams would be more pleasant. Please, I can sleep on the couch if you want me to.

VIRGIL: No, dad. Should you come over here for the night, I would never allow you to sleep on the couch. We have a guest bedroom you can use… [sighs] Okay, if you think being away could cause you harm in your sleep… I accept. Both of you can sleep over here if you want, Logan.

LOGAN: Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a…

VIRGIL: It’s okay, there’s room in the bed for both of you, and I would be less worried knowing that I’m not separating you now that you’re just married. What do you think, Roman?

ROMAN: Oh, I don’t mind at all.

LOGAN: All right, if you don’t have any issues with it, I accept. The only thing that worries me is breakfast, I…

ROMAN: It’s okay, Logan, we also eat a lot of Crofter’s in this house in the mornings.

LOGAN: [speaking quickly and excited] I’m in!

PATTON: Then, it’s settled. We’ll be here as the lovely family I’ve always envisioned in my dreams!

LOGAN: But only for dinner and breakfast, though, at least me. I’m currently working on something that needs all my attention in my own room during the day.

VIRGIL: Oh, okay, if that’s what you need. Can I ask what are you working on?

PATTON: Yes, my love, I would also like to know, you never told me anything.

LOGAN: It’s a plan of action to try and make Thomas’ mood improve. It is my duty to create all the logical mechanisms that help Thomas enjoy life and understand why life is still enjoyable, so I have to do that. My goal is that, when I have settled that foundation, Thomas will be able to restore his levels of hope to a healthy level again.

ROMAN: Oh, that would be so great. If it would work, you would be saving my life, literally. Thank you, Logan.

LOGAN: Don’t mention. That’s my job, after all. How are Thomas’ pills of hope working, by the way? Are they doing the trick?

ROMAN: Yes, they’re working perfectly fine. I had the last one a couple of hours ago and when I take one, all the symptoms almost disappear, even the fever goes away. That’s why I’m feeling so fine right now. It’s a shame that the effect only lasts for around four hours per pill and that I can only get three pills each day so I have to spend a great deal of the day feeling the symptoms in all their crudeness, and in those moments I feel like trash, but when they’re working like now, it’s an absolute relief. Say, isn’t there any possibility that I could get a double dose to make the effect last longer?

LOGAN: [suddenly yelling, with a face of fear and tension] No! Don’t do that! [there’s a silence at the table, everyone looks at Logan in silence. Logan clears his throat] I’m sorry… I wish you could take more pills or that the effect was longer, but as I told you, hope is fragile when served in these small doses, and if you got more than the established dose, which is one pill each eight hours, the pills you’d take in excess would get corrupted inside of you, as if it was an overdose. And then, they wouldn’t be hope anymore, they would be delusion, irrationality, even dementia, and that would have dangerous consequences, for you and for Thomas, that we must avoid at all cost. Remember, Roman. Even if you’re tempted to do so when you’re feeling the worst, even if you feel like you’re gonna die if you don’t, don’t take more than the right dose each day, do you understand?

ROMAN: Okay. I understand.

LOGAN: And I’m warning you about this because… I’m sorry but, seeing the evolution of your illness…

ROMAN: What?

LOGAN: You’re getting worse, Roman.

VIRGIL: What?

LOGAN: The pills will keep rescuing you and making you feel fine while they’re working, but when the effect wears off… you’re gonna be feeling worse than you’re already feeling now.

ROMAN: Oh, no… There has to be something you can do.

LOGAN: We’re working on it. But you must have faith in us and be strong when you feel the worst.

ROMAN: You’ve managed to scare me… Is it going to be so horrible?

LOGAN: Maybe even worse than anything you could imagine.

VIRGIL: [distressed] Logan, please, there’s no need to say things so crudely.

LOGAN: I’m sorry, but I can’t lie in a matter so serious, and Roman has the right to know… to be ready for that when it happens.

ROMAN: Logan is right, Virge, I have the right to know to prepare myself mentally. Don’t worry, I’m a prince. I’ll be strong, I promise.

VIRGIL: Roman… I know you’ll do your best. And we’ll do our best to take care of you too.

ROMAN: I count on that…

CHRIS: I wish I could take care of you too, father, but my leg…

ROMAN: I know, Chris, don’t worry about anything. Save your energies to heal that leg and get back in perfect shape. Remember we have lot’s of fencing lessons to share together in the future. And I don’t have any intention to miss them!

CHRIS: [smiling] Right!

PATTON: Okay, soup is over. Would you like a nice cup of hot chocolate for dessert? I can make churros to go with it.

VIRGIL: I’m not in the mood, dad, sorry…

PATTON: And that’s why I want you to help me make them. We need to distract ourselves and enjoy Roman’s good moments while they last. I won’t take no for an answer, kiddo.

VIRGIL: [sighs] Okay… let’s make some churros, then.

ROMAN: I think I’m gonna enjoy Patton’s stay in this room more than I anticipated. Churros for everyone! Yummy!

LOGAN: I would have preferred to dip them in Crofter’s, but hot chocolate is good too.

[Virgil goes with Patton to the kitchen and they start gathering the ingredients while Roman looks at them with a face of love and satisfaction, even though his eyes can’t conceal the fear. Virgil looks furtively at him and notices this fear but says nothing, and focuses on not messing up the recipe again]

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #angst #tw illness #aspects and fanfics

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fangorling · 5 years

Text

Peaches

I’m thinking of doing a multi part Bucky Barnes fanfic. I write constantly in a journal and think it would be fun to share. Here’s part one of that, let me know what you think. I apologize for how long it is and I know there’s hidden typos I’ve missed and need to go back to fix, I was just excited to share.

also, there's a reason his arm isn't mentioned and I’ll get to that later. Thanks for reading!

Word count:4217

Part One

I watched as steam rose above the pie that had just been cut and placed before me. You couldn’t find any fresh pie anywhere in this tiny town outside of New York and none as good as Miss Genie made.

It had become habit to stop at the sister’s diner every Friday for some peach pie. I liked my routines and never really strayed away from them.

“You know we offer ice cream with that, right?” Olivia smiled down at me placing a hand on her hip and arching an extremely well-manicured eye brow.

“I know you do, but that’s a whole seventy-five cents extra.” I remarked back to her while unraveling my silverware from the napkin they had been neatly wrapped in,

“Sugar, with how often you come in here your ice cream is on the house. You’re one of the customers we can depend on to help keep us in business. Every Friday at six.” Liv’s little drawl came out much more prominent as she spoke. She was a petite woman, no older than thirty-five with the most radiant coffee colored skin and had a smile that made the sun look dull. She had a beautiful ability of making every customer feel like family and she had a personality sweeter than honey.

“Should I be happy or offended by that statement?” I raised my brows up at her while crossing my arms in front of my chest, leaning back into the seat of the booth I had become quite familiar with over the time of my visits. I smirked at her so she knew I would never actually be offended by her teasing.

“She rolled her eyes before letting out a light chuckle, “Not at all. I look forward to my Friday shifts since I get to see you,” She gave me a little wink before getting a serious expression on her face, “I do find it odd that a young and beautiful woman such as yourself always has her Friday nights free.” She gave me a little smile before grabbing her tray she had set down on the table upon her arrival and walked towards the kitchen calling out over her shoulder, “I’ll bring you that scoop of ice cream!”

I let out a quiet giggle while bringing my first bite to my mouth. She did have a point. Not that I should be social or busy, but that I was becoming predictable and unexciting.

Olivia came out of the swinging doors that separated the main floor to the kitchen with a small clear bowl as the front doors chimed announcing the arrival of a new customer.

“Sit anywhere you want baby, I’ll be right with you.” Olivia smiled towards the door as she approached my table. “A very handsome young man just walked through that door and if I wasn’t a married woman, honey I’d be all over that.” She set down my ice cream that was hidden beneath a mountain of whipped cream.

“Your point being?” I asked as I scooped up a heaping dollop of the new dessert looking up at her.

“My point is,” She emphasized the is and gave me a glare before continuing, “You’re both young, good looking individuals that are here alone on a Friday night.”

“You don’t know that he’s alone, someone could be joining him and they’re just late.” I remarked. Hoping that she would drop the whole match making thing married people tend to try to do.

“Will anyone be joining you tonight, Sir?” Olivia shouted across the diner, none of the other customers batted an eye at her raised volume.

“It’ll just be me.” I heard a deep, masculine voice murmur from where Olivia shouted to.

I wouldn’t admit it, especially to Liv, but the dude had a nice voice.

“No one is joining him,” Olivia whispered at me as she spun around. “I’ll make sure to just grab you a single menu than.” Olivia grabbed the menu that had been left on my table to bring to this stranger she was swooning over.

I decided to start reading one of the many books I had downloaded to my phone as I ate, bouncing between my pie and my ice cream.

It had only been a few moments between grabbing my phone and someone settling across from me. I looked up mid bite to find the embodiment of tall, dark and handsome sitting across from me in my booth. If my mouth hadn’t already been open due to my current face stuffing, I think my jaw would have hit the floor due to this man’s good looks. He had dark scruff on his face and longer hair pulled away from his face. Normally I was into the clean cut look but there was something about him that drew me in.

He must have misinterpreted my ogling for confusion because he gave me an awkward chuckle before stating, “The waitress told me if I wanted a good view and some good company while I ate to come join you at this table.” He glanced down at the table and resituated himself in his seat before meeting my eyes again, my heart fluttered in my chest at how blue they were.

“I’m Bucky by the way.” He stretched his hand across the table for me to shake.

Quickly evacuating my trance, I dropped my spoon on my plate, causing a loud clatter, before shaking his hand and giving him my name. I should have guessed the only reason some attractive stranger would give me the time of day would have to do with Olivia. “You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want to. I know how Liv can be.” I gave him a small smile with a slight eye roll before grabbing my spoon and proceeding to eat.

“I actually kind of hate eating alone, so if it’s alright with you I’d really like to join you.” He gave me a look that resembled one of the abandoned puppies someone left at my work just that morning.

I gave him a small smile, “I-” But I was cut off by Olivia setting down a drink in front of Bucky.

“Here’s that Coke and your burger should be out shortly.” She gave him her signature dazzling smiles before glancing at me, “I can’t stand you eating alone all the time baby doll, I think you both will make great company for each other. Plus, a girl as amazing and smart as you shouldn’t spend so much time alone.”

I could feel myself start to blush, “Thanks Liv…” I tried bringing my hands up to subtly cover my face to hide my embarrassment and horror from the attractive man across from me that now knew I was antisocial and a cast out.

“Of course, honey bun. Some social interaction is good for you, especially with this tall drink of water across from you.” Why was she still here AND talking? I’m not going to be able to look this guy in the eyes after this.

As I was about to ask Liv for a coffee refill to get her to leave so she’d stop making me feel more awkward than I already felt regularly, I was stopped by a deep chuckle from across the table.

I looked across at Bucky as he brought the drink to his lips to steal a sip.

Olivia turned towards him with both hands on her hips, “What is so funny about what I just said?” Her voice the epitome of sass.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. If I’m a glass of anything it’s sewage water, especially when sat across a woman who is the vision of beauty.” Both mine and Olivia’s jaws dropped at Bucky’s statement. The dude was clearly delusional if he could see how classically handsome he was and to call me a vision of beauty, especially today of all days. I hadn’t even brushed my hair this morning in my mad rush for gods’ sakes. I woke up late, which resulted in in no makeup hair in a mess of a bun and not the cute chic kind, just a straight up mess. All wrapped up in some old worn out jeans and a hoodie we had tried selling for profit for the program a few years back. I looked like a hobo, comfy, but a hobo non the less. None of these things added up to anything close to beauty in my books.

“Are you mentally sound?” I asked as I looked across at him with both eye browns raised. “Because all of what you just said makes me question your sanity.”

Olivia gave out a slight chuckle, “Baby girl, you’re only half right about that. I’ll go check on that burger. Please keep complimenting her for me. She gets uncomfortable since she doesn’t know how to respond.” Olivia gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to head to the kitchen.

“So, you’re a pie fan?” Bucky asked gesturing to my desserts.

“Kind of, usually only from my mom’s kitchen, unless it’s pumpkin, but the pies here are to die for.” I glanced from my pie and ice cream before looking up to his face.

“you’d die for that pie and you’re concerned I’m not mentally sound?” He gave me confused look as he grabbed his drink to take a sip from.

“You only say that because you haven’t tried it.” I said as I took my final bite.

“I guess I’ll never know now.” He said chuckling and pointed at my now finished plate.

“No, now you’ll have to order your own. Which is me just being a good friend of the diner and helping them up their daily sales.” I gave him a smug look as I scooped up some of my partially melted ice cream.

He laughed quietly to himself while shaking his head at me.

“Here’s that burger for you. Can I grab either of you anything? Oliva asked folding her arms across her chest.

“More coffee if you don’t mind. And thank you for the ice cream, it really hit the spot with that pie.” I gave her a smile of appreciation before looking towards Bucky.

“Speaking of pie, could you set a slice aside for me? I’d like it for after I finish this. I’ve heard it’s to die for.” He looked from Liv to give me a wink. “Someone wouldn’t share because they said it would help you with the diner’s sales.”

Olivia let out a billowing laugh, “I have a feeling it wasn’t for the greater good of this place and everything to do with the fact that this person is just selfish.” Olivia shook her head and looked down at me. “You really didn’t share?”

“You’re surprised? You know how I am with my food, Plus I was eating my last bite when we were even talking about the pie.” I looked over at Bucky and shook my head at his dramatics.

“Well than that changes things, if someone shares their last bite of their food with you than it’s true love.” I felt my cheeks get warm at the mention of love. “I’ll go set that pie aside for you baby.” Liv stated before walking back to the kitchen. My eyes followed her before going back to look at Bucky as he squeezed some ketchup onto his plate.

“You from around here?” I decided to ask him to try and start a conversation.

He paused just before taking a bite from his burger, “I live in the heart of the city, so just an hour north of here if you get lucky with traffic. I have meetings here once a week.” He looked into my eyes before taking the worlds largest bite out of his burger.

“You in AA or something? I’m sure they have groups closer to your home so you don’t have to commute.” After I said it, I realized I should have probably kept my mouth shut. It was none of my business what the meets were or where he should be going. I must have hit a nerve because Bucky looked deep in thought and shifted in his seat slightly. “Sorry, you can disregaurd all of that. It’s none of my business. I clearly suck at basic human interaction. I work with animals, which are easier to understand and interact with compared to people. I forget how different we are as people.” That statement brought a smile back to his face and I could see him visibly relax.

He met my eyes before speaking, “It’s not AA. The best PTSD therapist lives down the road.” He started eating again and I didn’t want to try to get more information out of him. I already felt like I had gotten more than I deserved. “I’m getting back into the whole people thing too, I’m pretty rusty. I used to be able to sweep any dame off her feet but now it takes a pep talk from the friend to get me to just sit with them.” He shook his head and let out a half hearted chuckle before taking a smaller bite.

I didn’t like the sadness that was displayed on his face as he stared down at his food as if he was ashamed.

“Did you just use the term dame?” I let out a small giggle as he looked up at me confused.

Olivia came out with her coffee pot and set it on the table, giving me a subtle wink before leaving to greet some of the new customers that had walked in.

“I’ve only heard my grandpop use that when referring to my grams.” I explained.

He had a shy smile while he dipped some fries into his ketchup, “I’m older than I look.” His eyes met mine and I could see the hints of sadness and hidden haunting that was there that he tried hiding.

“So animals huh?” He asked as I grabbed the coffee pot to refill my cup. I could tell he was desperate for a subject change that wasn’t about him.

“Yeah, started out volunteering at our humane society early on in high school, for a club activity. That somehow turned later on into a full time job as the social media and event coordinator.” I smiled just thinking about what I was lucky enough to do and met Bucky’s eyes and started mixing sugar into my coffee. “I run the website, take pictures and add little bios.” I gave out a small chuckle before continueing, “Kind of like an online dating profile.” I brought my coffee up to my lips blowing slightly to try and cool it off before taking a sip.

“I wouldn’t know anything about online stuff. I’m not good with technology.” He stuffed the final bite of his burger in his mouth before bringing his napkin to his lips to wipe off any crumbs.

“Probably a smart move. It’s a massive distraction and besides mobile book apps and tumblr you aren’t missing too much. But the bio is basically just a small paragraph describing the animals in the most honest and positive light so they can have a better chance of getting adopted.” He nodded his head in understanding as he took a sip of his coke. “It gives me an excuse to spend lots of time with all the critters so I can get to know them and more accurately describe them.” I smiled down at my cup and started fiddling with the edges.

“You seem pretty passionate about it.” He said as he moved his now empty plate to the side. “How many animals have you adopted since working there?” He smiled at me as he crossed his arms across his chest, which put his bicepts on full display.

I gave him a sad smile before looking back into my coffee, “17 and counting.” I brought my mug up to my lips to steal a sip to distract the closing I could feel in my throat that came with bottled up emotion.

“Usually people are happy when they talk about their pets. You don’t seem happy, you seem sad. Why?” Most people weren’t so blunt when I reacted the way I did when asked about my adoption stories.

“I like to adopt what we call the ‘un-adoptable’. The old pets that people don’t want to get attached to, only to have them pass away after maybe a year or two. Or deal with the medical bills that comes with older pet or the pets with massive medical needs. I like to give them a good final home. The longest I’ve had one of them is 3 years before they take their trip to the rainbow bridge.” I felt my throat constrict and the burning in my eyes that came with holding in tears. I started studying the chipped nail polish on my nails to distract myself.

Bucky studied me with an unreadable expression, “Why do you do that if it makes you sad and feel pain?”

“Just because their old or sick doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a home and love that gives them a happy ending.” I met his eyes and could see a thoughtful expression on his face. “I know I can give them a happy home and they’ve been through enough already so they deserve the best final years. It’s a good kind of heartache and pain, I promise.” I moved my graze from my coffee back up to Bucky, he gave me a look of pure confusion.

“Here’s that pie for you.” The sound of Olivia’s voice made me jump, popping the bubble I hadn’t realized Bucky and I had created. “Can I grab you anything while I’m over here?” Bucky switches his gaze from me over to Liv.

“Thanks, I think I’m all good for now.” He gave her a slight upturn of the corner of his mouth before bringing his attention back to me.

I hadn’t realized I’d been so focused on Bucky until I heard Oliva clear her throat to break me out of my trance.

I met her gaze to see humor clearly displayed, “I’m all good I just need to pay you when ever you’re ready.” I gave her an embarrassed smile.

“Add hers to my bill, please.” Bucky’s voice pulled my attention away from Liv.

“No Bucky.” I looked over at him before looking back at Olivia, “Don’t do that. You don’t want to upset your favorite customer.” I batted my eyelashes at her with the cheesiest smile I could muster.

“I never said you were my favorite, I said you’re dependable and I look forward to seeing you.” She studied my face before giving me an apologetic shrug. “My husband has the honor of being my favorite customer. Sorry hun,” She gave my shoulder a small squeeze before bringing her attention back to Bucky, “I’ll add that pie and coffee to your bill.” She gave him a wink before walking away.

“Bucky, you didn’t need to do that.” I said sternly with a look of discontent.

“I wanted to, you were good company. Besides you never actually okayed me joining you, so it’s the least I could do after intruding.” He gave me a full smile before taking a bite of pie.

He closed his eyes, letting out a groan of appreciation. “This is better than my Ma’s.” He looked up at me with a look of pure shock.

I let out a heartfelt laugh, “I told you it’s to die for.” I crossed my arms atop the table in front of me.

Bucky took another heaping bite and closed his eyes, “I’m never doubting you again, Doll.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up at the term of endearment and couldn’t help the smile that reached my lips.

Olivia came back to our table holding the little black folder that contained the check, staring me down as she approached.

“I’m handing this to you and giving you a warning that you keep it out of her reach. She’s stubborn and sneaky and will grab that thing faster than you can blink and she’ll have that bill paid before you know it.” She gave Bucky a look of caution as she set the check in his awaiting hand.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, letting out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “You make me sound way more ninja than I actually am, Liv.” I watched as Bucky pulled out some cash and set it back inside the folder, softly telling Olivia she could keep the change.

“Thank you baby I really appreciate that.” She gave Bucky a small, but genuine smile before bringing her attention to me, “Usually you make sloths look like Olympic athletes, but when someone tries to help you, you turn into the Tasmanian devil.” She let out a laugh and shook her head. “Thanks for coming in tonight, it was a pleasure serving you.” She smiled down at Bucky while taking a step away from the table. “Well sugar plum,” She brought her focus back on me, “Same time next Friday?”

She knew the answer to that question. She had stopped asking me that after two months of me showing up the same day and same time. Which meant she was trying to hint that to Bucky so if he wanted to find me, he could.

I chuckled and shook my head, “Like clockwork, Liv.” Giving her a look that said I knew what she was trying to do.

“I’ll see you next Friday at six than.” She gave me a bright smile before looking back over to Bucky. “I better be seeing more of you around here, handsome.” Olivia pointed a finger at him like a mother disciplining her child.

“Don’t you worry. If you still have this fine dame coming in and this pie to serve, I’ll be back.” He turned from Olivia to give me a warm smile.

“That’s what I like to hear. Have a good night you two.” She gave a smile and wave before turning to go and help her other customers.

“Would offer to share but I don’t even remember finishing.” Bucky looked down at his empty plate with complete confusion.

I let a belly laugh out causing Bucky to look up at me, his expression changing from heartbreak to humor.

“That’s a common thing with their pies. I still do that all the time and I’ve been coming her for about a year.” I smiled over at him before grabbing my bag and checking to make sure I had everything.

I looked back up at Bucky, “Thank you for paying, you really didn’t have to,” Bucky went to cut me off but I held my hand up to stop him. “But, I appreciate it. You’re a real gentleman. Those are rare now a days.” I could see the hint of pink color his cheeks at my comment.

“It was my pleasure. I’m really happy I met you.” We both stood up from the booth a started making our way towards the door.

I called out a final goodbye to Olivia before walking out the door Bucky held open for me. I looked up at him and gave a quiet thanks as I walked through.

Bucky walked me to my car that now had a black Harley parked next to it. I hit my keys, causing the soft click of the locks lifting. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck before looking back at me, “So I guess I’ll see ya around, doll.” His bright blue eyes met mine.

I gave him a nod and smile before going with my gut and step out of my comfort zone by asking, “Could I maybe have your number? That way we could stay in touch.”

A guilty look washed over his face, “I would love to doll,” His tone and expression warned me about the rejection I was about to receive. “But I don’t have a phone.”

I closed my eyes and looked down, hoping it would hide the hurt and humiliation I was feeling. Clearly, I had misread this whole interaction. I thought maybe we had had some kind of chemistry happening. I know he said something earlier about not liking technology, but who didn’t have a phone in todays society? If you’re going to come up with an excuse to not have to deal with me, at least come up with something a little believable.

I opened my driver side door and chucked my bag onto the passenger seat. Letting out a sarcastic laugh, “Right, okay.” I said shaking my head while still looking down at the ground.

“No really I-” Bucky tried to start, but I quickly cut him off stopping him from needing to lie further.

“Bucky, it’s fine. I get it.” I quickly got into my car and started it as fast as I could so I could get out of this moment and escape my embarrassment. I had to fight my eyes from checking the rear-view mirror to get a final glance of the really cute stranger that was nice enough to pay for my Friday night treat for probably the last time.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barns imagine #fanfic #marvel #bucky x y/n #writing #feedback #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader

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lambroseforlife · 5 years

Note

Lambrose with one or more young kids

Hmmm…Im not sure which universe this takes place in. For me, I guess something closer with their personalities that I really liked from Book 1? But anyway, here you go.

— — —

The candles burned into the long hours of the night, flickering occasionally from the draft of wind in the bare hallways. The house was silent with the exception of scratching sounds reminiscent of pen on paper. Two people were still awake during a late hour, working quietly side by side with the towering piles of papers in front of them.

“Ahhhh,” the woman sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck. She stretched her arms, slumping back against the hard wooden chair. Her husband glanced at her.

“Tired?” He quipped, continuing to work on the sums in front of him.

“Just stiff.” She rolled her shoulders. “How far are you?”

“Halfway. You?”

“About the same. At this rate, we won’t finish the balance sheets tonight.”

He opened his mouth to reply when another voice interrupted.

“Mother?”

The couple peered around the stacks of papers to look at the person standing in the doorway.

“Why are you and Father awake?” The small boy approached them, rubbing at his half-open eyes.

“We’re finishing some stuff for work, honey. Did you have a nightmare again?”

“No. I woke up and now I can’t sleep.”

“Are you hungry?” His father asked him.

“No…”

“Thirsty?”

“No…”

“Need to use the toilet?”

“No…”

“Then go back to bed at once.” His father ordered. “It’s far past your bedtime.”

“Can I be tucked in again?” The boy’s gaze darted between them both. His parents exchanged a look.

“Please?’ He pouted.

“Of course, dear.” His mother piped up and his expression brightened. “Your father will tuck you in.”

The man in question glared and hissed under his breath for only his wife to hear. “What? Why me?”

“Because…” She muttered, glaring back. “It’s your turn. Don’t forget, he’s your son too.”

He was about to argue when he noticed the young boy looking at them worriedly. He shook his head in resignation, standing up. He ignored his wife’s smug smile.

“Come along then.” He grabbed a lit candlestick and took the boy’s hand in his own, leading him out of the dining room.

They walked together back to the boy’s room. His father set the candlestick down by the small bedside table. He lifted the covers of the bed and the boy crawled into it.

The man tucked the boy in, making sure that the covers were snugly cocooning his body for warmth. He turned to pick up the candlestick, ready to leave when—

“Father?”

The man paused.

“Yes, Son?”

“Could you tell me a bedtime story?”

He turned to look at the boy, his face impassive.

“Please, Father.”

“Very well.” He glanced at the supine figure. “Once, there was a little boy that woke up in the middle of the night. He went to his parents— who were very busy working on important things— and asked them to put him back to bed. The mother told the father to do it. The father did and the boy fell asleep immediately, allowing his parents to finish their very important work. The end.”

Silence.

After a moment, then…

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not very good at telling stories.”

The father glared at his son, saying nothing. His son stared back, identical eyes waiting expectantly.

After a minute had passed, the man sighed. He sat down along the edge of the bed, contemplating.

“Once upon a time,” he began in a low voice, “there was an Ifrit.”

His son sat up, attention piqued. The father continued.

“This particular Ifrit had a habit of getting into trouble often. One day, the Ifrit ran into a wealthy man and his bodyguard. The Ifrit saved the wealthy man from getting swindled by a bad guy.”

“What does ‘swindled’ mean?”

“It means being cheated or deceived. The Ifrit helped the wealthy man and in turn, the man offered the Ifrit a job to be his secretary. But little did he know…”

“Know what?”

“The Ifrit was actually a female. But she was wearing men’s clothing to look like one when she met the wealthy man.”

“Why did she do that, Father?”

“She wanted to vote like how males could. However when she went to vote, she accidentally curtsied and gave her identity away. The wealthy man saw the Ifrit being arrested by the police and protested. The police took off the Ifrit’s hat, showing her hair and revealing her true identity. The wealthy man realised that he had offered a job to a female, something that was illegal at the time. He assumed that with his ridiculous proposition, the Ifrit wouldn’t accept his offer. But…”

“The wealthy man was wrong, wasn’t he?” The boy looked up at his father from the pillows, having decided to lie down again.

“Oh yes, he was. More than he could have ever imagined. The Ifrit showed up at his office the next week and demanded for his offered position as his secretary.”

“And then?”

“The wealthy man tried to outwit the Ifrit. He told her that she could only work for him while in the same disguise he had seen her, as a male.”

“Why did he do that?” The boy’s eyebrows knitted together.

“The man didn’t think that females were as smart as males. That they weren’t strong.“

The boy frowned. “The wealthy man wouldn’t think that if he met Mother.”

“Indeed.” His father agreed, his gaze lingering on his son’s brown hair and sea-coloured eyes.

“What happened next? Did she give up?”

“Hardly.” The man snorted. “To the wealthy man’s surprise, she agreed to his terms. He had underestimated the Ifrit’s determination. So he tried other ways to make her leave on her own.”

“That’s not fair. Why didn’t he give her a chance?”

“He didn’t want to at first. The fact that he had hired her was enough to put both of their reputations in jeopardy. In addition, the wealthy man had a lot of enemies. Deep down, he didn’t want the Ifrit to be in danger, danger that he knew was inevitable as long as she worked for him.”

“So she quit?”

“Not exactly. One thing the wealthy man hadn’t counted on was just how stubborn the Ifrit was. She refused to leave, saying that she wanted to earn money for her independence. She stayed— even through the deadliest of times, times that most males would have fled from. With her courage, she eventually earned the wealthy man’s respect. He stopped doubting her abilities once she proved to be more than capable.”

The young boy’s eyes had widened to saucers in awe.

“She stayed with the wealthy man during his expeditions, whether it was sneaking aboard a ship to France or trekking through a war zone in the South American jungles. Over time, the wealthy man fell in love with the Ifrit. But he didn’t want to acknowledge it.”

“Why not?”

“Like the Ifrit, the wealthy man was also quite stubborn. He had been through a lot, betrayed by people he had been very close to. As a result, he had to survive on his own for many years. He learnt the value of money the hard way, through back-breaking work. Because of that, he didn’t trust people. He had become a cold, stingy person. He didn’t want to admit having feelings for her, even to himself. He was in denial for a long while.”

“So did they not end up together?” The boy mumbled, drowsiness beginning to set in.

“No. With time, they couldn’t hide their feelings. Somehow along the way, they grew closer and closer. Until they finally admitted their feelings for each other. But even then it wasn’t easy.”

“Why?” The boy’s eyelids fluttered.

“The wealthy man and the Ifrit had clashing principles. As a result, they always argued. But after a while, they both grew tired of arguing and decided to meet in the middle. Eventually, they both married and started a family. They soon found that the new lifestyle had its own challenges.” He looked down at the boy, whose steady breathing indicated he had fallen asleep. “But that’s a story for another day.”

The man’s hand reached out and gently brushed away the wavy chestnut locks from his son’s forehead. He stood up, taking the candlestick.

“Good night.” He started to head for the doorway when—

“Father?”

He stopped, turning to face the boy squinting at him through barely opened eyes.

“Yes, Son?”

“What’s an Ifrit?”

— — —

I tried a new writing style for this one. A shorter, third person perspective read without any character names. But I think it was obvious enough who the characters were. I’ve read numerous fanfics of lambrose with their future children, each having different names. For this oneshot, I’ve left the decision of naming up to you, Reader, for their child—in this case, their son.

#kinda an ask #answered #storm and silence #lilly linton #rikkard ambrose #fanfiction #oneshot #writing prompt #prompt 6 #knowledgeispoweristimeismoney #use your imaginations for what their son's name would be

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demyrie · 5 years

Text

On the Resourcefulness, Intelligence and Grit of Fic Writers

My beta and starmate @rainbowstarbird and I have been writing fic since we were preteens. I specifically remember straining, in my seat, toward my screen and my 13th birthday so that I could Very Legally sign up for ff/net. Wild, right?

We are also students of narrative, specifically radical queer storytelling. One of our favorite things to do is go on errands (we’re old be quiet) and just brainstorm ideas with characters we love where they share our identities and struggles and do things we need or want to see. Or just ... get kinda horny, as today.

Rae exclaimed at some poor driving on our way to the house and accidentally said “room for two” and our brains went south, toward the double penetration line of thinking. We laughed, and laughed, and then Rae shrieks MAKE IT A PORN, GO and thus began the game.

Me: uhhh uhhh uhhh OH OH okay so, it’s!!! a bed and breakfast!!! and the hot married owners court and seduce a guest and DP them! ROOM!! FOR!!! TWO!!! it works on both levels!

Rae: Aaaaaaaa someone hasn’t made this a porn yet?! make it a fic!

and we did.

Me: oh shit who’s an OT3 we can play with?

Rae: WHITE COLLAR

(for those who don’t know, White Collar is a delicious drama action procedural show where a white collar FBI agent, Peter, teams up with one of the greatest con men ever. A con man he’s tailed for YEARS, by the way, that HE put in jail, and together they solve art crimes and slowly rehabilitate Neal. Peter is amazing, soft soulful masculinity to a t, and has a very frank, beautiful, nurturing wife named Elle who is also amazing and Neal has never belonged anywhere and there is a LOT of tension as Neal edges closer and closer to letting himself be loved but then NOPES out to return to his scammer ways. The cast joked about a threesome. It’s heavy. Both Peter and Elle would do anything for Neal, and struggle with his inability to believe he’s worth love. Its. Ugh.)

Me: YES!!! SO!!! to theme, it would have to be married couple Peter and Elle running a cute little Bed and Breakfast that Neal stumbles upon and then he gets fuuuuuuuuucked

Rae: But I want peter to be a FBI agent?? Who is he, if not a lawman?

Me: AH! RETIRED cop/FBI agent peter, swayed into peaceful AND swanky bed and breakfast life by his canonically talented event designer wife Elle in the hopes of giving him some calm and space to come to grips with himself

Rae: YES! AS HE DEALS WITH HIS PTSD. his career took a slightly darker turn -- we can take one of the harder cases and imagine how it would have gone without Neal and how it would have shook him -- and necessitated a retirement from the field.

Me: and Neal is very off his track. He broke up with whatserface. Maybe he just got out of prison, or narrowly squirmed out of it after one of his art blackmail schemes went south. He doesn’t know whether he wants to go back to crime/art forgery, but he’s out of money and out of ideas and he pulls up at this small unassuming (BUT VERY TASTEFUL) bed and breakfast and immediately tries to scam Elle with a fake credit card to stay the night.

Rae: Yes, he’s charming, but he’s off his game due to the recent upset and fumbles the delivery. Peter scents it immediately, being a cop, but Elle takes pity on him and just says honey let it be. Maybe he’s having some trouble. She’s so nurturing, and says ‘remember what we talked about in therapy, Pete?’ and frames it as letting go of hypervigilance, and being more centered like they’re learning in therapy. Because they need therapy. And the idea of a sexy older established couple openly talking and communicating to deal with their pain but also their boundaries is amazing. But also it’s hilarious how it becomes “Neal is a walking test of Peter’s ability to Calm Down” because Elle leverages it like REMEMBER? THERAPY? and Peter stomps off flustered and lets her get her way just like in the show

Me: yes and so they get attached to poor lost Neal, and extend and extend his stay night after night while he figures things out. so of course everyone gets to talking. Peter feels his Old Buried Gay Feelings awakening with such a beautiful guy hangin out, bein’ all charming and sweet -- which is an opportunity to bring up the “remember what we talked about in therapy?” line in a different context, a la dealing with neglected parts of ourselves and not just “problem” parts of ourselves to create a WHOLE self -- and Elle spots it from a mile away, as well as Neal crushing right back but being on his best behavior with this awesome couple just sorta letting him live with them.

Rae: YES, like, he doesn’t want to mess this up, and he’s also not used to ... being good. Behaving. Or ... being trusted. All of this is fucking him up on a lot of levels, bringing him face to face with his hollow conceptions of self-worth, and it’s delicious. They LOVE HIM. and there’s so much angst about him dying to confess that he never really had the money to stay here in the first place, that he tried to scam them, as a metaphor for his intrinsic worthlessness.

Me: yes. they love him. And then they love him. At the same time. DP. Room for two.

[screams, high-fives, then contented silence. horny, contended silence]

Rae: But wait. ... it’s ... DP?

Me: *shrugs* Elle gives the strap. You know she does.

Rae: holy shit she do. DONE ITS A THING WE MADE A THING WOOOOOO

SO!

This is why fanfiction is magic. We took these characters and fit them to a cheap porn scenario just for the hell of it, and yet its much more than a scenario, and so much more than fitting a square peg into a round hole. It’s about the characters interacting AROUND AND WITHIN the scenario, the way all of their problems and complexes interlock in the new setting or AU, which enriches the scene and lends it emotional weight and momentum. It’s that amazing quote about “i don’t want porn in my LOTR, but LOTR in my porn”, but obviously it doesn’t always have to be an explicit scenario to reflect this amazing ability to ADAPT, IMPROVISE, AND OVERCOME in order to create incredible content!

Fanfiction is about learning identities and ways of being. Fanfiction requires a top view of characterization and a grasp of narrative flow: The important components of a character, and how many parts you can tweak or change and it Still Be the Character. It delves into those weird grey areas where you see THOUSANDS of different iterations of a character and some of them hit the spot, and some don’t, and we learn what we like. What we value, personally, and in these characters, as well as how OTHER people see traits that become HCs that let us learn about those populations, like a prevailing hc that someone is trans, or deaf, or nonbinary, or a spoonie, or etc etc etc and our world view gets a little wider, a little richer, and a little more empathetic.

It also means understanding the tiers of characterization, like what are defining traits versus secondary traits, and thus what (environmental) aspects you can change to bring out secondary character traits but still retain the core of the character while exploring material never approached in the show, just because you want to. Because you see something of yourself in this character and want to SEE YOURSELF in this character. It is amazing. IT IS AMAZING.

Yes, fanfic is the ultimate sandbox for “for the sake of” fantasies/stories and part of the transformative value is there’s no real NEED to adhere to characterization. There’s no pressure. We can go wild. It’s a blank slate, IT’S WHATEVER, but I think we consistently underestimate how fanfiction itself is an adaptive and analytical gladiator-ring-slash-orgy that we can emerge from MASTERS of characterization, exploration and expression, and just about every day is a study of What We Like and What We Want to See. Even, or especially, if the higher ups aren’t gonna give it to us off the cuff.

It’s amazing. Fic is amazing. I dunno. I’m just super happy with this thing we do.

So if you’re feeling weird about that fic you want to write, don’t. Just do it!

Rae and I are gonna make a podcast where we talk about this stuff. I’m excited. You in? :)

#fanfiction #demyrie writes

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nightshadedawn · 5 years

Text

Let’s talk OCs

Now, since I first started writing fanfiction, I’ve written OCs, though I don’t as much anymore. Note how I wrote OCs, not Mary Sues? Big difference, bud. But that’s not my point, at the moment. We’ll get to that in a bit.

When I write OCs, I put them in the world. They exist, the events of the original story exist, but they don’t always exist... together, shall we say. I put them smack dab in the middle of the events, but with little to no interaction to them. It gives me a nice framework to work with, for one.

One may find similarities between Kassandra “Kacie” Addams and Harry Potter in Honey Colored Heart. Both were raised by muggles, both were outcasts, and both were, in some way, abused, in their muggle homes. You may also notice that Kacie, like Harry, had the chance to go into Slytherin. Where Harry has his scar, Kacie has this “black sand” I won’t describe in much detail as I haven’t published more than her first book yet, and you don’t learn the truth until her fourth year. But this is where the similarities end. Kacie is a muggleborn, fully, and was in fact taken away from the abusive situation. She is rather out of the focus of many, and is rather powerless most times. Quiet, timid, and scared of most things, and selfish in the fact she will do anything to secure her own safety, and cunning in the way she goes about things to make sure she can. She was sorted into Hufflepuff due to her potential to be kind, and she tries to make the kind choices to live up to her house’s reputation. Kacie, in no way, shapes the plot of Harry Potter. But she exists in it, and it affects her life. She’s only a year older than him, and you see several of the characters from the series pop up from time to time.

I recall a character for Durarara, though I can’t really recall her name. It was an idea I spun for a while when the show was fresh in my mind, but the story itself was never going anywhere. She was a character who worked closely with Izaya from time to time, with their jobs being so closely related. She made her money by keeping and selling secrets, and her roommate was the one to hide them. I do remember a piece of her dialogue: “When it comes to monsters, I know of five kinds. And I know a person that fits in each of the categories. The first is a monster that no one knows how to be around. There is just one single thing that makes them different, unordinary, and therefore a thing to be feared. That is Shizo. The second is a monster that controls everyone like puppets. Someone who is amoral. They don’t know the difference between right and wrong. That is Izaya. The third is a monster who is a real monster, something seen only in fairy stories. Whether they are harmless is a matter of opinion. That is Celty. The fourth is a monster who you don’t see as a monster. They appear harmless. They aren’t a monster except under certain circumstances. Obsession and the ability to acquire that obsession comes naturally to them. That is Ji. The final is a bit harder to explain. The monster is a type that looks at the pain of others and smiles. Who does not seek to harm others, but will still find joy in their suffering. I am that person.” This was a character I felt I needed to write. Something complex, different. A character you quite literally saw every thought, every feeling of, every reason why, and yet you still didn’t quite understand. It was a shame her story went nowhere.

I wrote shorts about young ladies who attended Ouran Academy, I wrote about a Weapon who was a broken arrow and didn’t have a Meister, I wrote about demigods and the mortals around demigods. For my followers, I also recently wrote about a skeleton girl and her two best friends. Hell, I wrote about the children of Class 1-A. All of these characters were as fleshed out as any of my original characters. The Victorian young woman who could see ghosts but was called crazy for it, and the detective who solved her best friend’s murder. The pirate captain who was cursed to kill the person she loved the most or die, and the elder sister who was the only person she’d die for.

The only difference between these OCs is that some of them I a had preexisting world to put them in.

So I honestly don’t know why give such shit to those who write OCs into fanfic. I’d read a story about a group of hunters who keep trying to go after demons and shit and those they’ve been hired by keep being “Oh, you’re not the Winchesters.” or they wake up one morning and thinking “Oh shit, which one started the apocalypse this morning?” but they’ve never met them. I’d read about a wannabe detective who reads John’s blogs on Sherlock’s cases and trying to be like him, being one of the one trying to prove “He’s not dead!” I’d read about kids looking up to heroes Deku and Ground Zero and wanting to be heroes like them. They’re not changing the story, just using the lore. You all want more stories set in this universe you love, why not let people tell another tale? At least, that I would enjoy.

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slytherinshawn-blog · 6 years

Text

suns out

dabbling in this realm of fanfic writing. this was inspired in part based on a true story and in part based on a dream that i had so theres that

summary: you find yourself in a music store in downtown los angeles where a certain superstar admires your work

word count: 3.3k

It’s roughly 3:17 pm when you’re sick and tired of the heat outside, the sun blaring down on your skin like it has any business to do so. You and your best friend had been exploring the town since early that morning, doing a late breakfast at some café a local had recommended.

Traveling was one of those things you just loved to do. You loved being in a new city as often as possible, as much as your work schedule and bank account would allow it.

School got in the way too, which is why the two of you took trips on your summer breaks. This time, you found yourselves in Los Angeles, downtown, the biggest pair of tourists you could probably imagine. You were only here for a week, the hefty California price tags weighed down on your ability to stay for too long, as the hotel you two had booked was already expensive enough.

You spent the morning doing typical tourist things, exploring the walk of fame and catching a cab to Hollywood where you could ogle at the mansions that lined the hills. The pavement burned beneath your feet, the summer heat in L.A. reaching a ridiculously high index that had your skin on fire. “Oh – hey! Look, a music store,” you pointed out to your friend. The front of the store you could see only a few strides away, it was worn out and cool, the letters faded, windows littered with concert flyers. “Can we go in? Just for a minute, alright? I’m dying out here,” you complained to her, your hand blocking the sun above your eyes. She laughed at your distaste for the heat and agreed, the two of you heading inside.

The cool air hit you like a kind embrace, and instantly you felt refreshed, sweat drying up on your forehead. “God,” you groaned in relief. The store was relatively empty, an older man stood behind the counter, flipping through a book he had sprawled out in front of him. There were a few others, young men with long hair who stood around a set of drums, their fingers dragging across the shining surface and their voices a mere echo in the background. “Welcome, how are you ladies?” The man behind the counter asked, and you shot him your best smile. “I’m wonderful now, thank you. The sun is absolutely insane today, we just had to come in and take a break.” The man agreed with you, “Feel free to stay a while, have a look around.”

Slowly, your eyes scan the small store, a wall of music books and old rolling stones magazines lined behind the counter and to the back for as far as you could see. The drums and percussion instruments you had already passed, leaving the young men to admire in peace. You were mostly interested in finding the guitars, the one instrument you moderately knew how to play. Your dad taught you when you were young, his days of being in a garage band far behind him yet not forgotten. He had passed the skill down to you, and although you didn’t practice or play every day, occasionally you would hear a song and be driven to go home and learn an acoustic adaption of it. You weren’t the best, but you imagine had you put as much passion into it as your dad encouraged, you could be a lot better. “I’m going to go find the guitars,” you informed your friend, and she nodded her head to acknowledge, her fingers flipping through vinyls on one end of the store.

Your feet carried you to the back, where there was a room set up that acoustic guitars lined far above where your arms could reach. There was a small amp and a stool set up in the middle of the room where guests could get a feel for their potential new instrument. Outside of those walls were the electrics, rows of Gibson’s whose price tag was untouchable to your budget and could only be admired. They were classic and beautiful, and you aspired to save enough money one day to buy your dad the Les Paul gold top guitar he dreamed of. After admiring the electric guitars to your liking, you made your way into the more secluded room full of acoustics. There were Fenders, and Martins, and Taylors all around, your eyes gravitating to a baby Taylor that sat in a stand. You picked it up and took a seat at the stool in the center of the room. The guitar was familiar in your hands, like the one that you owned although far less scuffed. Your fingers got accustomed to the new strings, and you played a familiar finger-style rendition that your dad taught you years ago. It was pretty and haunting and your favorite piece that you had ever learned.

Soon, you switched into another melody, playing a song that you had heard on the radio a few weeks prior. A pop song by Ariana Grande that you had revised acoustically at home, slowing the rhythm and making it simple. You hummed along, too shy to let yourself be carried away with singing out loud real words, so you kept the tune in the back of your throat and hummed instead. You were hardly aware of how much time had passed, your eyes closed to help you focus on not making a mistake, and you had yet to hear your friend asking to leave.

When your eyes opened, and a hand came down to mute the strings, a deep breath exuding from your lips, your eyes flicked up to the doorway. Startled, you nearly jumped out of your skin when your line of vision caught on the sight of a very tall, very curly boy standing there in the threshold in front of you. “Uh—” you sputtered, heat rising to the top of your cheeks. Your eyes were wide, heart was racing from the scare of seeing someone where there had not been anyone previously. “You’re – hi.” You managed, eyes finding the strangers.

“Hey,” he replied casually, one hand shoved in the pocket of his tight black skinny jeans. Your eyes took in the sight of him, black t-shirt that clung to his arms for life. He had a smile on his lips, perfect straight white teeth surrounded in pink, plush lips. The blush on your cheeks were relentless, never subsiding. He was pretty, and familiar, and something about the effortless cool of the boy had your eyes narrowing in confusion. “Wait.” You stopped him from continuing. “I know you.” You stated simply. Your mind raked, eyes flitting over every inch of his face. “You’re… aren’t you – I know you from somewhere, I think.” You sounded stupid and you knew it.

“I’m Shawn,” the boy answered, a grin on his lips that was proud and handsome. “Mendes.” His large hand reached out in front of his tall frame, welcoming you to take it. So, you stood, the guitar hanging in front of you and your small hand engulfed in his, shaking it politely. Your smile was shy, head almost ducked because you couldn’t stand the intensity of his unwavering eye contact. He was intimidatingly handsome, and you had no idea how long he had been standing, watching – listening. “I’m y/n. Nice to meet you, Shawn.” And then it clicked, and you knew exactly where you knew the boy from. His face was plastered on a billboard down Hollywood Boulevard, promoting a new album with flowers. You had heard him on the radio several times, new singles that had catchy hooks and rhythms. You knew him because you found yourself singing along in the car to school, songs that played too many times on the same radio station. You recognized his cool stature from the time that you watched him perform with Khalid on an award show. Same black skinny jeans, tight as sin. Same boots and V-neck shirt that hugged his body perfectly. “How long had you been there? Were you, uh – were you waiting on the room? I’m sorry if I, uh… if I held you up.” Your lip tugged between your teeth, shy and feeling dumber by the minute. You didn’t know what to do with your hands after he let go.

“Not too long, no worry honey. I heard you play that last one though, almost the whole thing. What was that? Sounded almost like Ariana Grande, but there’s no way.” Your eyes were trained on the way his lips moved as he spoke, but you forced your eyes to meet his, which never faltered. He had a small smirk on his lips, watching you. He was probably used to this sort of reaction. “Yeah, it was,” you answered. “I heard it a few weeks ago and I just, that was my, like – version. I just slowed it down, really, I –” he cut you off, saving you from rambling any further. “It was good, really good. I liked it. You sounded great.”

And there went any hope of your face returning to normal. Compliments were hard enough to accept, but a compliment provided by this young, inhumanly attractive boy, who also happened to be extremely talented at playing and singing – that was too much. “Thank you,” you muttered quietly, moving to slide the guitar strap off your body and back into the stand it had came from. “Oh, you don’t have to stop at my expense.” He said, taking a step forward with a hand out as of to stop you from putting the guitar down. “Please don’t, actually.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes or your ears, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was happening actually at all. “Um,” you managed, eyes refusing to look up and meet his gaze that you could practically feel burning on you. “No, I – well, that’s. That’s very nice of you to say. But I… probably should get going. My friend is here somewhere, and we’re supposed to be doing touristy things right now.”

You finally look up to see his reaction, and his smile has dropped, tongue darting out to wet his lips and it’s almost sinful, watching him. You can smell his cologne with the short distance between the two of you that he had enclosed with his previous small step. Its hard to not feel intoxicated, your legs feeling weak in his presence. It’s stupid, you think, wishing to get a grip on yourself. You were never one to idolize or swoon over celebrities, as you tended to appreciate their art for what it was. This, however, was different. Everything about him made you unsure, feeling shy and intimidated.

“That’s too bad,” he concluded, voice husky. “I would’ve liked to hear what else you got.” His lips pursed, almost thoughtfully. “You’re here just visiting?”

“Yeah,” you answered, brushing your hair out of your face where it had fallen uselessly. “we’re here for a week. Just exploring, doing the usual L.A. tourist things. I saw this shop and I was dying to get out of the sun, so we ducked in here for a bit.”

“Hm,” he hummed, “this is a nice spot to have come to hide out. I visit when I’m in town. The owner, Mike, he’s cool. And it’s so off the grid and I never have to worry about being found, you know.” His hand rubs the back of his neck and you notice the tattoos on his arms for the first time. One is a guitar with other things inside it and you wonder what it means. You wish you had the time to stay and talk and learn and listen to him speak for hours. You want to hear him play, watch his calloused fingers run across the neck of the guitar in person. Your lip is tight between your teeth, a nervous habit. “Anyway,” he starts again, his eyes never once leaving your face, studying it, watching the way that you react to him. It’s terrifying. It’s amazing.

“It’s great,” you breathe, your eyes wandering across the walls. “I can imagine. I wish I could stay longer, I, uh – I’m familiar with a few of your songs. Some of the singles you’ve put out. And I’ve seen you play on television a few times. You’re great. Really good.” You sound like a fool, you conclude, making a mockery of yourself.

He laughs at that, a genuine smile that make the corners of his eyes crinkle up. “Thank you, y/n. Good to know I’ve not gone entirely obsolete just yet.” It feels like the both of you are just lingering, neither making the first move towards the door. You surely don’t want to leave, thinking that you’ll never be in the presence of someone like him probably every again in your life. You wonder why he hasn’t moved from the doorway either, mostly blocking your only exit. You’d have to duck past him at this point if you even wanted to go. “Where are you staying?” he asks, suddenly.

You give him a teasing grin, nose crinkling playfully. “Now, you know I can’t tell a stranger that information, Mr. Mendes. Haven’t you ever seen the movie Taken? She tells the first nice boy she meets exactly where she’s staying, and… you know the rest.”

He plays along, moving an inch or so towards you, the gap between your bodies becoming increasingly smaller. His scent is everywhere, and you must look up to meet his eyes. You can’t believe the sheer height difference. “I’m no stranger though, am I?” he teases you. “I mean – you’ve seen me on the television a few times, eh? May as well have known each other for years.”

You laugh softly, eyes darting to the floor. “Childhood best friends,” you agree. It’s all fun and lighthearted teasing, until you meet his gaze again and then it’s back to overwhelming, being so close to someone this unreal.

His lips are pink, wet from where his tongue had just darted out. “At least give me your Instagram? I know all about Los Angeles, all the best places to go. If you need any food, bar, club, anything recommendations, you know… you can just shoot me a message. I’d be glad to – help you out.”

You pretend to think it over. What’s the harm in handing over your social media account? You’re sure he won’t remember this conversation in a few days anyway. You had no intention of messaging him for any recommendations, content with just leaving this memory of him an exciting story to tell your friends when you return home. How coincidental it had been, for you to stumble into the same music shop that a well-known artist frequented the same day he visited. You hum in false thought, head cocked to the side while you pretend to think. He rolls his eyes and lets out a breathy laugh. “C’mon,” he encourages, strained.

“Fine,” you say with a huff, feigning indignation. “I suppose I’ll give it to you.”

You type your account into his Instagram app and find yourself, leaving your page open on his phone as you hand it back to him. “Great,” he answers, pocketing the phone in his jeans. “Don’t hesitate to message me if you need any help. I’m telling you, I’ve got the best local insight.” He places a large hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze as if to reassure that he is indeed telling the truth. Not that you doubted him, although you were sure anything he could recommend to you would be far out of your comfort zone or even budget for that matter. But his touch burns on your skin, all senses dialed to him and it makes you blush, yet again, your cheeks a familiar shade of pink and all he’s done is pat your shoulder like a brother would his sister.

“I’ll keep you in mind, Shawn. Promise.” You hold up your pinky between your bodies, eyeing him to see what he’ll do.

He smiles, friendly and beaming, eyes glistening with something you can’t read. His pinky wraps around yours and you both dare the other to break first. You could’ve held onto him like this for endless ages, but you didn’t want to be weird, and your stomach was full of butterflies that you willed to leave but wouldn’t. Your hand dropped to your side, and you flashed Shawn another shy smile, stepping to the side to move around his tall frame. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” you ask. “Perhaps on tv?”

“I hope,” he says, hesitantly moving to the side to allow you to pass him. His eyes stay trained on you, and you can’t believe how long this has gone on already. “See you, y/n.”

“Bye, Shawn!” You give him a small wave before heading to the front of the store where your friend is speaking quietly to the owner – Mike. When she sees you coming around the corner, her face lights up and she gives you a silent look.

“Thanks for letting us hang around in here,” she tells the owner, giving him a wave before she grabs your wrist and pulls you hurriedly from the store. “Okay, what the fuck?” She questions, excitement laced in her tone.

Your legs struggle to keep up with her quick pace down the sidewalk and away from the store. “What?!”

“How long were you back there with Shawn freaking Mendes, dude? I saw him come in the store and I wanted to say something, but I just froze, and I stood, and I watched him head back to the guitar area and I thought you’d just freak out but instead you come back grinning ear to ear. What happened? The guy up front says he comes in all the time!” She’s speaking so fast you can hardly keep up, but you guys stop a few streets away from the store.

“Uh – we just talked, that’s it. We talked about music, really. He was nice,” you add, hoping to satisfy her need-to-know. “You should’ve said hi.”

She scoffs, playfully. “I would have, maybe if he hadn’t spent his whole life back there with you! Geez, I mean can you believe that? Thank god you get sick of the heat so quickly.”

You laugh at that, feeling a buzz on your phone and you fish it from your pocket, the screen illuminating an Instagram notification.

Shawnmendes is now following you

You bite your lip, a small smile fighting its way to come out and you unlock your phone to see if it’s true. You quickly follow him back and have a look at his last few posts. Shots of him being on tour and some black and white photos that are just dreamy. Another notification appears on your screen. This time, it’s a like coming from the one and only. He had liked a video you had posted a few weeks ago. It’s of you in your room back home, lights dim and angled so that you could only see the neck of your guitar and the bottom half of your face. You had completely forgotten about the content of your account. Occasionally you would post short clips of you doing covers of songs that you had made to fit your style. And here Shawn was, as you sat gossiping with your best friend, listening to them and liking the clips. You could have died of embarrassment then, but you instead close and lock your phone, putting it away and out of your mind.

“C’mon,” you tell your friend, grabbing her hand and pulling her along the sidewalk. “What’s next on that itinerary of yours?”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fic rec #mendes army #shawn mendes imagine #mine

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higuchimon · 5 years

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[fanfic] It Started With A Break-In: Chapter 1

Juudai stopped in his usual stroll around the palace grounds, one hand held in his mother’s still. She looked down at him, one elegant eyebrow raised. He said nothing but looked over to where two of the guards were talking to one another. They weren’t very far away, enough so that while they spoke in low tones, the nearby lake still carried the words over to the young prince.

“ - whip them and have them staked out for the ants, covered in honey, that’s what I’m going to do!” One of them ranted, fingers gripping around their spear.

The other one shrugged. “It’s only a few rabbits. Why worry about it?”

“Because it’s my job!” The first one insisted. “And if I don’t stop whoever is doing it, I’ll be turned out of the guard. You know the Captain’s been coming down harder on us all lately.”

The second sighed. “I know. But you don’t need to go that far when you catch them.”

Juudai looked up at his mother, eyes moving from her to the guards and back again. “They want to hurt someone?”

Queen Kaien considered matters before she took two steps closer to the guards. “What is the difficulty here?”

Both looked toward her and knelt as they realized who stood there.

“Majesty,” the first one said, staring down at the tiled floor. “I hope I didn’t offend you with my incompetence.”

“Rise and look at me,” the Queen ordered. “Tell me what is going on.”

The guard rose up and fidgeted before he spoke. “There are rabbits that keep sneaking into the royal garden. The gardeners have been trying to keep them out, and it’s part of my duties to help them, and to find out if it’s really rabbits stealing the vegetables, or someone using them as a distraction. But it’s been three weeks and I can’t find anything other than rabbit tracks. I’ve never even seen a rabbit, let alone a thief.”

Kaien tapped a finger against the side of her mouth for a few moments. “Keep doing your work. I will see what I can do.”

“Majesty, this is nothing more than a thief at best and a few stray rabbits at worst!” The guard shook their head quickly. “You need not waste your time on this.”

“I will waste my time on what I choose,” Kaien told them before starting her walk again, Juudai pattering alongside of her.

They managed to make it just out of hearing of the guards before the Queen spoke.

“You want to find out what is going on, don’t you?” She knew her son very well. He wasn’t much more than eight years old, but he had an unyielding curiosity for all the things in the world that he could find out, and even some that he probably couldn't or shouldn't have.

He gets that from me. She couldn’t have been prouder of him.

Juudai nodded quickly, eyes bright. “What if it’s an evil demon stealing the vegetables? I bet I could stop it!”

“I’m sure that you could, Juudai. But you should be careful.” Her son held the very power of life itself, and if it were a demon – which Kaien very much doubted – then Juudai could get rid of it without much of a problem. Assuming he didn’t blow up half the palace in the process.

Thank goodness he didn’t have full access to all of his abilities as of yet. They would have to find someone to take care of him before the Light gathered itself enough to send assassins for him. Let alone before their enemies gathered their forces and sent killers of their own. Kuragari wasn’t a universally loved nation by any means.

For now, it would do no harm to have him sleep outside for a few nights, until he got the urge to be helpful out of his system or forgot about it altogether. She would arrange it as soon as possible.

Juudai settled in the little wooden shelter built in the crook of a tree, a cup in one hand and a little plate of food in the other. He’d insisted on starting his vigil early, so he’d missed dinner with his parents. He’d only done that before when he was sick, so this felt quite like an adventure.

Here he sat under starry skies, waiting eagerly to find out what sort of intruder thought they could get away with stealing royal vegetables.

He stared out at the spread of the gardens. On one side he could see the shape of the guard, who didn’t have the nice things that he had, and would be staring at the gardens even more intently as Juudai was.

But Juudai would be the one who found out what was going on and stop it. He knew he would be.

He kind of wanted it to be a demon. But he more hoped that it would be rabbits. Rabbits were cute and he could adopt one and it would be his friend. He didn’t have a lot of friends. Most of them were only his friends because he was the Prince and their parents wanted them to be his friends.

Juudai wanted a real friend. A friend who liked him because he liked them, and who wouldn’t be afraid to say things to him that needed to be said, just because he was the Prince.

But someone he could buy things for and help them, because he was the Prince. It went both ways, after all.

He made himself more comfortable, munching his way through his dinner, and leaving the leftovers on the plate. Someone would pick it up later, probably when they came to check on him. Now he watched, waiting for the slightest hint of movement.

Was that movement? What was it?

It was the wind caressing the leaves of a tree. Boring.

Juudai kept on watching, straining to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t going to fall asleep. He wasn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

The stars overhead moved in their gentle dance. The moon began to rise, not a fat and happy full moon, but one slender and giving almost no light at all.

And Juudai slept, as a thin hand stole the last pieces of his food, and slipped away in the shadows.

“Rabbit tracks! Again!” The guard’s cry brought Juudai’s head snapping up and he looked around quickly, confused for the first few seconds on why he was in a tree and not in his comfortable bed.

“And more missing vegetables!” The guard wailed in anguish. “This is a disaster!”

Juudai blinked and rubbed his eyes before his attention fell on the plate still next to him. It had been wiped absolutely clean, almost good enough to eat off of again, and covered with a light coating of dew. He didn’t see any signs of any rabbits, though, or anything else.

Slowly he rubbed his eyes again before he wiggled down to the ground and started toward where the garden guards stood. The guard he’d encountered the day before – or that his mother had – stood there, scanning around and on occasion gesturing to a patch of slightly damp grass with a few tracks in it.

“We’re going to have to set rabbit traps,” he said. “We should have done that to start with.” His eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem to have noticed Juudai yet. “If we can catch them, I’m going to have rabbit stew for dinner. And roasted rabbit. And maybe see if the furrier can make gloves for me.”

A movement caught Juudai’s attention. It wasn’t much of one but he’d spent a lot of time watching for small movements to avoid when trying to get out from under the guards’ eyes to go have some fun.

What is that? He took a step toward them, his foot striking a small stone that bounced across one of the paths. As it did, there was a faint hint of a rustle, nothing more than that, and then nothing else.

“Your Highness!” The guard stared at him, a touch pale, and then straightened up. “Of course, you were … helping. Did you see anything?”

Juudai opened his mouth and started to raise his hand to point to where he’d seen the flicker. Then he stopped himself. He’d heard what the guard said and whether or not rabbits infested the garden, he wasn’t going to tell on them to someone who wanted to eat them.

“Not really.” He rubbed his eyes again, wondering how sleepy he really looked. It must have been enough because the guard nodded, dismissing him with a wave.

“You should go inside. Get some real sleep.”

Without even waiting to see if Juudai did that, he turned his attention back to the garden and the small tracks there. Juudai glanced at them himself, wondering if he could see anything.

There wasn’t much to see, just a few impressions that were clearing up even as the morning dew dried. Juudai took the long route around, tingling in anticipation as he got near to where he thought he’d seen that little whatever.

If he’d really seen anything. Or if it had been anything worth seeing.

The more he looked, the less he saw, though. At least anything interesting.

Maybe it wasn’t anything. He headed inside, a slow wave of weariness making its way over him, not thinking much of anything until he was tucked into his bed again. Then one single observation stirred before he slept.

Rabbits couldn’t get to where I was.

To Be Continued

Notes: I have no idea of when I will update this. But I will, eventually.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #yubel #yuuki juudai #yubel x juudai #juudai x yubel #soulshipping #chapters: it started with a break-in

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kalloway · 6 years

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I Dream in Fear (old Dragon Age fanfic WIP)

Decided to just throw this up there - I wanna find the motivation to finish it or re-write parts of it, but tbh I’m actually pulling dialogue from it rn for a different dialogue idea I had lmao

But hey, it’s here if you want. It’s long, so it’s under the cut. I wrote this back in January 2015, apparently. Wow.

Hope it’s okay! I’m not formatting it at all before queuing this so if it’s weird... let me know - I know my theme’s garbage for this sorta thing rn OTL

There was a blade breathing down her neck as the silence hung heavy in the room. He tried, but his breathing was ragged; nervous. So quiet it was, he was ashamed to consider that his Knight-Commander could probably hear it form where he stood – judge it, criticize it when this ordeal was over – oh Maker, have mercy upon this terrified young Templar. Perhaps forgive him for the sin he'd considered acting upon. Duty had held him firm, but this mage – this woman – had managed to shake his stubborn will.

He was not supposed to do what he did. He was a Templar – plain and simple. He observed, he protected, he fulfilled his duties. He did not become a stammering fool and he did not become irresponsibly smitten with a mage simply because she had smiled at him once. He wasn't supposed to, but he did despite himself. Was he ashamed of this? Of course, but he found that every time he told himself 'no', he'd catch a glimpse of red hair and a flash of those honey-coloured eyes, and he'd forget his own oaths. He didn't even know her, and yet he knew far more than he cared to admit. She was very talented however, even First-Enchanter Irving had mentioned it once – but was it not wrong to pick favourites amongst those that may not even-

No, of course not.

He simply admired from a distance, trying to understand what exactly made him feel this way. Before he knew it however, the Templars' shifts would rotate, and she was out of sight... but not out of mind.

Some days were better than others in this situation. He wouldn't mull over it much and attended to his duties like any other Templar – though with the odd glance he'd give her when he thought no one was watching. Then there were days he became helplessly paranoid, fearing for her for minuscule reasons that he'd blow out of proportion. That mage over there seems like he's standing a little too close to her to just be on friendly terms... Was that Templar staring at her too? At the end of these troublesome days, he'd pray that he would grow out of this phase or... condition. How long he'd denied it. How long he'd attempted to brush it off as nothing. But it was nothing. Nothing good would come of it most certainly, but was that the only thing that drove him to all this concern and stress over a mage – a woman – that was nothing more than one of many charges he watched over? It was all too confusing for him, and he feared that it would start to show. He feared he'd be caught, or worse yet – she be the one punished for his own seemingly uncontrollable infatuation.

It was early one evening that he spoke to her directly for the first time. He was assigned to a watch in one of the libraries in the Apprentice Quarters. He didn't even realize that she was there – and therefore wondered why he was sent to a seemingly empty room to begin with – until she'd suddenly moved out the corner of his eye to scan more of the tomes on the tall wooden shelves. He didn't dare move from where he stood, but he watched her run a slender finger across the spines of the tomes, searching by title or author possibly, he didn't bother to choose one. He simply observed.

After a few minutes of searching and three tomes in hand at last, she finally spun on her heel to take notice of his presence with a simple greeting of, “Oh, hello Cullen.” He swore his heart ceased to beat when she said his name. He had never told her his name... he hadn't even spoken to her before!

“How do you-? I-I mean...”

She blinked once before she sputtered out a reply, “Oh, I just... overheard another Templar...” She trailed off, uncertain, “I'm sorry, that was probably very rude of me. It was not my place, Ser.”

He was taken slightly aback by her concern. Was it concern for him? No, no, no. Don't think like that. He felt like he was being strangled of the air in his lungs... why was it so hard to simply speak to a mage? “Oh, uh... it's no issue. R-really! You can, uh... you can call me what you like. Er- within reason, of course.” He felt like a fool.

She gave him a weary smile in return, “As you wish, Cullen.”

And that was the end of the conversation. Cullen spent the rest of that night berating himself for being such an idiot. Things only became worse the next day when he overheard a conversation between two mages as he made his rounds through the Apprentice Quarters. He only caught part of the conversation, but he had heard his name and mention of 'Amell'. That was... Cullen had panicked upon hearing this conversation, hurrying past that section of the mage quarters so he didn't have to hear any more of it.

Yet despite this, the routine remained unchanged, save for odd mutual glances at one another when they passed. It was embarrassing for the both of them. However she was undoubtedly more ignorant on such matters than he was. When he'd first become a Templar, they had blatantly stated that Templar-Mage relations were not tolerated, especially within the same Circle. He had wondered at the time why they would have to mention such a thing in the first place. After all, was it not common sense?

If that was the case, then Cullen had none.

He spoke to her again, this time in the Senior Mage Quarters on the second floor. She was waiting outside the main library/stockroom in the hall, where Cullen was walking. He'd considered trying to ignore her, but that would be terribly rude, especially if she made an effort to greet him should he do so. Therefore, he chose to simply (or tried, at least) to ask her why an apprentice mage was on the second floor.

She'd turned to him with bright eyes, “Ah, I'm waiting for Tomkin – you know Tomkin, yes? - to gather some tomes he believes might prove useful in my studies.” She suddenly turned bashful, “He says it'll help me get ahead with all this stuff. I told him that wasn't necessary at all – after all, I'm not really all that special – but he's quite persistent, he is. The only reason I'm actually here is because he said he didn't want to leave me unsupervised downstairs. Maker only knows why he's so concerned about something so trivial.”

There was that familiar dull pain in his chest again. Worry. He had a terrible, faint feeling about why the mage Tomkin would be concerned leaving her alone, but he dared not think of it too much. Instead, he did his best to brush off the grim feeling, especially when he caught sight of aforementioned mage making his way back to her no doubt, with an armful of tomes. “Oh, I-I see. Er, very well... carry on, Amell.”

He cringed and silently cursed himself. 'Oh Maker, it slipped I swear!'

She furrowed her brow at him. She noticed. Cullen panicked, he wasn't supposed to refer to mages by name... it wasn't proper protocol! Much to his surprise though, the young mage in front of him only said one word , paired with a stern look in reply: “Miriam.”

He almost asked her the most idiotic question, but she had turned her attention to Tomkin, who has returned and ushered her back towards the Apprentice Quarters with the 'reward of knowledge'.

Miriam.

It suited her.

After learning her name – her informal name at that – Cullen felt almost giddy for the rest of the day. He didn't pray for forgiveness that evening. He didn't berate himself yet again for his foolish, impulsive actions. He was completely and utterly infatuated.

He spoke to her once more after this, back in the library once again. She saw him and gave him her usual bright smile – her eyes warm and welcoming – that never failed to set his heart aflutter. They were silent for quite some time, until Miriam had returned the tomes to their designations and seemed to be preparing to leave for her quarters for the night. She stopped in front of him after glancing around, presumably to ensure they were alone. She then turned her gaze upon him, “It's funny, how we always seem to be in the same places these days, Cullen.”

He could listen to his name pass through her lips forever... He quickly snapped back to his senses to the best of his ability, “Ah, y-yes. Well I, uh... I take this particular shift once a week. I... suppose our b-being in the same places besides this is... it's just a coincidence I'm sure.” He mentally slapped himself. He sounded like he wasn't too fond of her implications, when it was really quite the opposite. But what was he supposed to say?

“A coincidence, perhaps. But it's not like it's a bad coincidence. I mean, you're more forgiving than most. You have humanity... restraint. Something most Templars appear to be severely lacking, from what I've been told.”

Her compliments caught him entirely off-guard. Technically speaking, she was crossing a fine line with her subject matter. But he found himself reduced to a stammering mess yet again, “Y-you think I- H-humanity?” He scoffed at his failing voice, but it came out far harsher than intended, “All Templars have humanity... Mages do as well. You do.”

Miriam sighed, “That's not what I meant , you- Ugh. The other Templars... they just follow orders and don't care about their charges. They'd rather do as they please and scowl from afar. But you... you're different. It's a refreshing change, not having to be paranoid every waking minute.”

No words tumbled from his lips this time. Rather, his adoration for this mage only increased and was threatening to show. Though she had indeed somewhat insulted his Order, her sharp comments were not directed at him... well, not entirely. He'd noticed she had the tendency of being rather snippy with those she spoke with, so it didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have, although it still brought a twinge of shame for his own misinterpretation. That concern aside however, she was still taking the time to compliment him on a trait he himself had grown to dislike. He feared his compassion would interfere with his duties as a Templar, and had been scolded by Knight-Commander Gregoir for it more than once. He'd tried to detach himself from his charges and had done so successfully with all but one.

'What made her so different?', he'd occasionally wonder.

He'd wanted to spill his feelings to the woman; to break protocol and let it out so he wasn't so worked up about it. He wanted to take her slim hands in his own and compliment her – on her beauty, her wisdom and righteousness, everything.

Before his wild train of thought had found its end, Miriam had hastily bid him goodnight before leaving for her quarters. He watched her retreating form. His gut twisted uncomfortably – he should have said something. He shouldn't have even been thinking of such things to begin with. Such thoughts were dangerous, they told him.

He would regret his silence the following day.

The day of her Harrowing.

There he stood, overseeing her Harrowing – the most important day of her life. Cullen had not been informed ahead of time like some higher-ranking and more experienced Templars may have been. Gregoir had simply approached him out of the blue and commanded him to follow. He did so, but only knew what he was in for after reaching the fifth floor of the tower – the Harrowing Chamber.

'This Harrowing is like any other', he told himself, 'but why does it feel so... wrong?' He was never this nervous – this afraid – for neither himself nor the Mage he was 'guarding'. No, that's not what it was to him at all.

#delete later #excerpt #writing #wip #I hate looking back at this because like dang... I'm more eloquent than I think I am #the stuff I write now just isn't the same xD #But parts of this are a bit inaccurate now tbh - I'd like to fix it up and finish where I was going with this #anyway let me know what u guys think of this if u read it!#I had it split up when I originally posted it but I took it down ages ago #otherwise I woulda saved the lengthy post and just linked to it ^^;#but no seriously let me know if the formatting's bad - I didn't fix it and I can't preview a queued post #I've since changed how I want Miriam to sorta approach him a little #buuuut this was technically meant to be a 'what if..?' scenario so I guess it's okay if it breaks away from her 'canon'#I wasn't sure on dates or ages so I kept it cague #*vague #but I learned tonight that Cullen was at Kinloch Hold for like... a year-ish #if he took his vows at 18 and was immediately placed in the Circle #the Blight started when he was 'about 19' (his age is slightly flexible so Word of God suggests lmao)#I like to think Miriam's around his age..... but I also like the idea of her being the eldest of the Amell children tbh #but again - I didn't really do much research into it back then... but I think it's pretty darn decent for a first go at it #!

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