#and this fourth appearance. apart from a few little details he really just seems happy and comfortable. the entire episode he was just doin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rkived · 3 years

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━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better.

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between.

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed.

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship.

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you?

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms.

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him.

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done.

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in.

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly.

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out.

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good.

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so.

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there.

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party.

That’s life for you.

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going.

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left.

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do.

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband.

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night.

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks.

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her.

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her.

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead.

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either.

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance.

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation.

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely.

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly.

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list.

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while.

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids.

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine.

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake.

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake.

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently.

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list.

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out.

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer.

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now.

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too.

You to come back.

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up.

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning.

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before.

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop.

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back.

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest.

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak.

It’s his fault after all.

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings.

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep.

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift.

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you.

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted?

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday.

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house.

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips.

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college.

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much,

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness.

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door.

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood.

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless.

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart.

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back.

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach.

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine

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fickleminder · 3 years

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the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me replaced mc au

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found

Request: Hello, I’ve never requested any type of imagine so I’m sorry if this request sucks. I just love the way you write post-Azkaban Sirius and I was wondering if you could write something about reader getting pregnant just before he was sent to Azkaban and never got to tell him, fast forward to 1993 and how Sirius reacts to finding out about his son/daughter. Hope this made sense!

A/N: Here’s your request! I really enjoyed writing this, and I kind of used a different format that I've only used once or twice so I hope it reads okay! There's a flashback in this and it’s in italics! Thank you so much for requesting. As always, I hope you like!!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, pregnancy, first meetings, a gross overuse of commas and semi-colons BUT THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING!!!

Word count: 4.7k

1981:

The front door slamming shut wakes you from your slumber. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but Sirius had left so late in the night; you wanted to wait up and see what the hurry was.

He storms into the living room; boots heavy on the floor. His hands run through his hair rapidly and he shakes his head repeatedly as if he can’t come to terms with whatever’s happened.

But then he stops his pacing.

He holds a hand up to his mouth.

And he begins to sob.

He bends in two; sobbing and sobbing, unable to catch his breath from the power of his cries.

You fly off the couch, rushing to him. Wrapping him in your arms, you sink to the ground where he stands, unable to walk to the couch for the sheer emotion taking over him.

It feels like hours before his sobs calm enough for him to get the words out.

In between his sniffles, Sirius manages to choke out, “James and Lily have been killed. Harry taken by Dumbledore.”

Your tears join Sirius’. You think of the family torn apart tonight; you think of the broken hearted man sat at your side. The family he had found for himself ripped from him in less than fifteen minutes.

It was incomprehensible.

They were only twenty-one; they were protected, and they were planning for their future. They had a fifteen month old son who needed his mother and father now more than ever, but he wouldn’t have that.

They had the world at their feet.

And in a single instant, it all changed.

----------

The test come backs positive, and it makes you cry harder.

A shaky hand places itself on your lower abdomen where in nine months, a bump would surely be.

You blink away the tears that are making it hard to see.

You stare at the wall; listening to the nothingness of the empty house you now sat in.

******

The sun was shining when Sirius made the decision that would impact both of your lives forever. The sun was shining when Sirius left the house with you still in bed.

At the front door, he hesitated for a single instant. He hesitated because he didn’t know what was going to happen to you after he does what need to. He hesitated because he so desperately wanted to crawl back into bed with you, but as he closed the front door ever so quietly behind him, he knew he wouldn’t get such a luxury for a while.

Sirius hadn’t been home all day; you had woken without him, but that wasn’t entirely unusual. What was unusual was his constant absence as the day progressed, and soon enough, dread floods your veins.

Remus shows up on your doorstep at some point in the afternoon; looking very much as if he hadn’t slept in days. He paces the kitchen with you; Sirius hadn’t told him the exact details of his plan – just that he was going to right a wrong, and that hadn’t sat right with Remus at all; no matter how much he desired retribution for the death of his friends and the orphan now in the care of his muggle relatives.

You yelp in panic when there’s a knock at the door; mind already thinking the worst.

Opening the door, you find that your mind is correct.

Two Aurors stand there; both with sombre looks on their faces.

You don’t hear what they say wholly; you only hear bits and pieces as your hearing zones in and out.

You hear, ‘Sirius’, ‘Azkaban’, ‘no trial’ and with no words of apology, the two Aurors leave your doorstep.

It’s Remus who catches you when you fall to the floor, sobs heaving from your chest.

******

The nausea rises with the end of your memory. You haul yourself over the toilet, emptying your stomach. You rest your head on the cool surface of the porcelain before dragging yourself to the sink to wash your mouth out.

An appointment at the Healers was needed, it seemed.

-------

The ultrasound jelly is cool as it is spread on your stomach; you shiver from the feeling and the nurse smiles at you apologetically.

“How are we feeling?” She asks kindly, setting up the machine.

You bite your lip, “I’m really nervous actually.”

She chuckles, “All new mothers are, but you’ll find the fathers are the most nervous.”

You want to laugh, but instead you smile wanly.

Using her wand, the nurse hovers it over your lower abdomen, moving it right to left and back again as she scans there.

A few clicks on a button later, she says, “There we are! You look to be about twelve weeks already,” She continues to move her wand, “Baby looks healthy, and is a good size. Would you like to see?”

You nod wordlessly. The nurse smiles at you as she turns the monitor your way.

And for the first time, you get a glimpse of the little baby.

You hold one hand to your mouth, and the other stretches out to touch the screen.

The nurse stands, “I’ll give you a moment. I’ll be back in a few minutes, dear.”

You let a few tears fall as you shuffle closer to the screen, wiping the ultrasound jelly off with the tissue from the side. Your hands grab both sides of the monitor, pulling it to you even closer.

There – the little blip on the screen. The little blip that was your baby.

-----

Remus lives in a flat within walking distance of Diagon Alley. After your appointment, you head there, struggling to hold back more tears threatening to make an appearance.

You climb the stairs to his floor; finding his flat easily enough.

Raising your fist, you knock on the door repeatedly – getting faster and louder the longer Remus takes to answer the door.

Remus yanks open the door to his flat, ready to shout at whoever is making that much racket so early in the morning. His words die in his mouth when he sees that it’s you and that you’re so close to tears.

You brush past him, striding into his flat and into his kitchen where you promptly fill up the kettle and set it on the stove to heat up. Watching for a flame, you know that Remus is going to need caffeine to hear the news.

“(Y/N)?” Remus asks warily from behind you, “Are you okay, love?”

“No, Remus. I’m not, but I can’t tell you until you have a coffee in your hand. And Remus, I love you like a brother, but will you please put on some trousers.”

Remus glances down at his clothing; only just realising that he’s stood in his boxers. He chuckles and leaves you to get dressed; pulling on some jeans and a Henley he finds in a drawer. As he’s getting changed, you make him a coffee and yourself a tea.

You sigh, thinking to yourself that this would be the last time you have caffeine for a long while.

Remus ambles back into the kitchen fully dressed and takes a seat the breakfast counter, “So what was so important it had you waking me up?”

Your fingers tap out a nameless song on your mug as you announce, “I’m pregnant.”

Remus knocks over his mug, sending it and the coffee inside flying across the kitchen. He leaps up from his spot, swearing up a storm as he grabs a tea towel to clean the mess up.

You stand to side, letting him finish cleaning. He’s done in a matter of moments; turning back to you with happiness and pity reflected on his face.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks.

You nod, “Had it confirmed today. They even did an ultrasound.”

You grab the picture of your baby from your bag, handing it to Remus with a shaking hand.

Remus grabs your hand as he looks at the ultrasound. There, in front of him, is a little blob that’s the baby of you and Sirius.

“What are you going to do?” He questions – his voice no louder than a whisper.

You run a hand through your hair, “I’m keeping it if that’s what you’re asking.”

Remus nods, “Are you sure though?”

“I’m sure. It’s half Sirius. We had talked about having children the month before James and Lily were killed.”

“So you’re going to be a mum?”

You laugh, tears shining in your eyes, “I’m going to be a mum.”

------

The pregnancy is tough without Sirius by your side. You find yourself asking for his opinion on everything – from the cot, to the colour of the nursery walls, to the name.

Then you remember he isn’t there, and he won’t ever be.

Remus, however, steps up. He isn’t there to be a father to the child, but he makes damn sure he is there for every appointment and to assemble every piece of furniture.

It’s Remus who holds your hand through the labour, and it’s Remus who hands you your son.

1987:

James begins to get curious about his father’s whereabouts on the approach to his sixth birthday. Question after question leaves his mouth – why didn’t he have a dad? Why were you alone? Did you feel lonely? Do you miss his father?

Eventually, the inquisition from the youngster becomes too much, and you give in on a Friday evening.

James sits on your knee, already invested in the story long before you even start.

“Are you comfy?” You ask.

You laugh at his eager nod.

“I met your father at Hogwarts when we were sorted into the same house. We weren’t friends then, but I knew who he was; it was hard to miss him – he was very loud.

“We became friends three years later in our Fourth Year; your father sat next to me in a lesson and pestered me until I would be his friend. I’m very happy he pestered me now.

“We fell in love in Sixth Year,” You break off, chuckling at your son’s crinkled nose, “Well we did, honey. There wasn’t anything else after that. I loved your father and he loved me.

“When we graduated Hogwarts, we moved into this very house and started to make it a home. Our friends, Lily and James, had a baby and both your father and I were named godparents – we had to protect the baby if anything happened to them.

“James and Lily died after that and it was very sad for both of us but especially for your father as James was his closest friend in the entire world. Your father left the house to make those who hurt his friends apologise, and it led to him having to go away for a very long time.”

“How long?”

“A very long time, my love.”

“Where is he? Maybe we could visit?”

“I don’t think we can. He’s in Azkaban, sweets.”

James’ eyebrows crinkle together, “The place where bad witches and wizards go.”

You nod, “The very same, but your father isn’t a bad wizard. He just made a bad choice one day.”

You finish talking, choked up with emotion. James pats your cheek with a small hand, and you squeeze your son a little tighter; wondering when he had grown into such a caring child.

James thinks over your story; plays it through in his head. He had seen other children his age playing with their dads and wondered why he didn’t have one. He was very happy with you, and loved you very much, but still, he wondered.

“But we still love him, right?” James asks.

You pause; thinking over his question, “I think I’ll always love him, James. He’s your dad.”

“Can I see a picture of him?”

You nod, not expecting this question. Patting his side, you tell him to get off so you can climb to the attic to find one. James follows you all the way; his little legs struggling on the steep stairs to the attic.

He finds you rooting through an old, dusty trunk, chuntering to yourself as you try to find what you were looking for.

“Got it!” You shout, pulling a framed photograph out from underneath some old clothing.

You run a finger over the picture; looking at faces you never thought you would see again. James, Lily, Marlene… Sirius. They all smile up at you as the camera flashes; permanently sealing the memory within the photograph.

You wrap an around James’ shoulder, pointing down at the photograph. “Tell me, do you recognise anyone at all?”

James gasps, “Is that you? And Uncle Remus?” His small finger points at the two figures he recognises the most; Remus as he went through his long hair phases that truly didn’t last long after the photo was taken, and yourself, standing straight-backed and proud next to Sirius whose arm was on your lower back.

You laugh, “That is me and your Uncle Remus, yes,” You point to the two figures in the front, “That’s James and Lily – two of my closest friends.”

“Is that who I’m named after?”

You nod, “It is. James was your father’s best friend; he even lived with him for a brief time. When I found out I was having you, there was no doubt in my mind that you were to be James.”

“Which one is my dad?”

You sigh, shifting your finger so it hovers over Sirius’ permanently handsome face, “This is your father.”

James takes the picture from your hands, holding it closer to his face as if he could get a better look at the man who should have been raising him beside you.

“Do I look like him?” He asks in a small, vulnerable voice.

You smile, pushing the dark hair back from his face, “In all the best ways, sweetheart.”

1993:

Tears fall freely as you flatten your son’s hair. “Mum,” he gripes, “It’s fine.”

“I’m just going to miss you,” You sniffle, dabbing at your eyes with your handkerchief.

“I’m going to miss you too, but we can write to each other and we’ll see each other on the holidays. It’s going to be okay, mum.”

You caress his face, wondering when your son had grown up, “When did you become so wise?”

He rolls his eyes, “I always have been.”

“Okay,” You start, taking a step back, “Do you have everything you need?”

He checks over his belongings one last time, “I’ve got everything.”

“And you’re going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be okay,” He promises.

“And you’re going to write me a letter the moment you get to your dorm room to tell me what house you’re in?”

“I promise.”

“Okay then,” You drop one last kiss to your son’s cheek before sending him off to the train, “I’ll miss you!” You shout.

He sticks his head out of the window of his compartment, unashamed of showing his feelings, “I’ll miss you too! I love you!”

You wave and wave as the red and black steam train departs from Kings Cross, carrying your son all the way to the highlands of Scotland where he’ll roam the corridors as you once did with his father.

-------

Remus is the first to alert you of Sirius’ escape from Azkaban. He apparates from Hogsmeade one weekend; his first words when you open to the door to him being, “He’ll come here, you know that right?”

You let him into your house. He trails after you, checking for signs that Sirius hasn’t already landed on your doorstep.

You hand him a mug of coffee from the fresh pot on the side, “I know that Remus, but I think he’ll go find Harry first. He doesn’t know about James.”

“I know that, but he’ll come back for you. Are you ready for that?”

“I’ll be ready when I need to be and that’s that. I wasn’t ready for my son or for his father to be imprisoned but he was, and I dealt with.”

“Magnificently if I say so myself,” Remus comments with a smile.

“You’re a flatterer, Remus Lupin.”

He laughs but it does nothing to hide the worried light in his eyes, “Send me an owl every week please? Let me know you’re okay.”

You nod, “I will. And you do the same for me; keep an eye on my son, Remus. It’s his first year.”

Remus sits back in his chair, “He’s in my class. He refuses to call me Professor, preferring to answer questions with ‘Yes, Uncle Remus’,” Remus chuckles, “Eleven years already. I remember him being born.”

“You should – you were there.”

He chuckles, “I had to be present for the birth of my godson didn’t I?”

You laugh, reaching through it all, “You were great through it all. I never worried about a thing, I had you next to me.”

“It should have been Sirius,” He sighs.

“You’re right, but it wasn’t. And I don’t regret that for one moment.”

-------

The knock at your front door is your only preparation really. An owl from Remus warned you that Sirius had left Scotland and was heading south. Harry had helped him escape certain death, and a surge of pride and gratefulness makes its way through your body – thankful for the godson you hadn’t seen since he was a toddler pottering about on shaky legs.

“Remus told me you would come,” is your greeting to man you hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“Remus is a very smart man.”

“Isn’t he?”

You stand aside, letting the man you’ve loved for most of your life enter the house he once shared with you.

You make your way to the living room; his footsteps sounding behind you. Your heart races with every possibility running through your mind – it had been hard to avoid the news of his escape, and you wondered how long it would take him to come to you. You were just thankful that James hadn’t felt the need to find his father himself; the sensible head on his shoulders telling him to wait and come back safely home to you.

Sirius steps further into your living room; his eyes dancing around the room he had spent so much time decorating. He smiles to himself; remembering the paint fight you had – he had splattered you with the brush causing you to retaliate by painting a long white stripe down the right side of his face.

It’s hard to miss the photos lining the walls or the mantle piece. His eyes dance over the framed photograph of the Order in favour of the smaller photograph next to it. A polaroid in a frame; taken by Remus on the day that James was born – it’s of you, hours after his birth with your hair still a mess but you’re smiling at the camera, looking elated.

Sirius turns to you; his mouth wide open, ready to say something but then he notices the other photographs of James on the wall – him at three years old; him at five years old sat on Remus’ lap; him at seven on his birthday, blowing out the candles on his chocolate cake.

You watch him from the side, absorbing everything.

Sirius does the maths in his head, and then his eyes finally settle on you.

Betrayal.

Hurt.

Longing.

They flash through his eyes and across his face in a matter of seconds before understanding finally settles there.

“Why don’t we talk about this over a cup of tea?” You ask; ready to have the conversation that should have been had twelve years ago.

“When did you find out?” Sirius counters, and you sigh, clearly not to be sorted over a cup of tea then.

“About two months after you’d gone. I was a month along when you went away so neither of us would have known,” You sigh once more, rubbing your temples in a circular motion, “I should have worked out a way to tell you…”

Sirius shakes his head, “No. You shouldn’t. It would have made things even harder in there.”

“How bad was it?” You ask; your voice a whisper.

Sirius’ face pales; lips thinning, “It’s not something I would wish on my worst enemies.”

You nod your head; not wanting to dwell on the tortuous subject any longer, “Would you like to meet him?”

Sirius’ eyes widen, “Are you sure?”

“He’s your son, Sirius. I’ve never hidden that fact from him. He’s only grown more curious over time.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Ridiculous. He doesn’t know you, but in time, he will.”

“You’re willing to give me that?”

You nod, “Sirius, love, if you hadn’t have gone away, we would be raising him together.”

“Did you ever find anyone else?”

“It’s hard to date when you’re a single parent, Sirius.”

He rolls his eyes.

“No,” You clarify, “There has been no-one for me but the father of my child.”

“I want to be in your lives – yours and his,” He states, “If you’ll have me.”

“I never stopped waiting.”

Tears line his eyes, making the grey even more striking. “Come on, let’s introduce you to your son,” you say, holding a hand out to the man you would never stop loving.

Together, you climb the stairs to your son’s room. Knocking lightly, you ask, “Love, am I okay to come in? I have someone I want you to meet.”

“It’s open, mum,” His voice rings out and you hear Sirius’ sharp intake of breath at the first time hearing his son’s voice.

Your grip on Sirius’ hand only tightens as you open the door.

James sits on his bed; his face the picture of curiosity. He leaps up when he sees the man standing behind you.

“Mum?”

“Honey, this is your father, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is your son, James Regulus (Y/L/N).”

“Regulus?” Sirius asks; his eyes never leaving his sons.

You nod, “I miss him too.”

Sirius takes a tentative step forward, dropping your hand. He stretches the hand that dropped yours out to his son.

James glances in a circuit between the outstretched hand of his father, his father, and you. With a gentle nod, you convey to James that it’s okay.

James steps forward and folds his hand into Sirius’, shaking twice before letting it drop.

Sirius coughs, “It’s nice to meet you at last.”

James nods; posture standoffish.

You glance between them, “I know. Why don’t we move downstairs so we can about this over a cup of tea?”

“A cup of tea mum? Really?”

“A cup of tea can put the world-”

“To right. Yes, I know,” James chuckles, “Let’s go.”

“Your mother used to say the same thing at Hogwarts and after,” Sirius states; watching his son’s figure make its way downstairs.

James pauses on the stairs for a moment before carrying onto the kitchen where he fills the kettle and drops three tea bags in three pots.

Sirius lingers in the doorway to the kitchen; everything has changed but everything hasn’t too. There was still the mark on the ceiling where him and James got too eager with a jinx, and the cracked vase from him and Remus throwing a ball about was still on the windowsill.

“Sugar? Milk?” His son asks; holding both up for Sirius to choose from.

“Both please.”

James nods before returning back to the drinks at hand.

He hands you your drink first before sliding Sirius’ cup to a spot at the breakfast bar. Sirius shuffles over to it, sitting down in the spot the drink is placed at. James remains standing, leaning on the counter, ready to leave should he need it.

“Mum told me about you when I was younger,” James comments.

Sirius glances at you. You take a nonchalant drink of your tea, shrugging, “He asked. I wasn’t going to keep it a secret all his life.”

“What did you say?”

“How you two met and why you weren’t around,” James states, staring down at his drink, “I didn’t think I would ever get to see you. I’d come to terms with it and then I see your face all over the newspapers in my first year at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was a surprise.”

James shrugs; not knowing what else to say to the man that had been absent for the first eleven years of his life.

Sirius stands from the stool, making his way to James where he cautiously puts both hands on his shoulders. James wants to avoid eye contact with his father, but Sirius manages to keep his hold, “I’ve already spoken to your mother about this, but the decision comes down to you, James. I want to be in your lives. What happened all those years ago was not supposed to happen and I paid the price for over a decade. If your mother had known she was pregnant with you, I would have stayed and I would have raised you, but that didn’t happen. James, I’d like to get to know you, but I wholeheartedly understand if you do not want to know me.”

James processes the words his father says. His eyes dart to you for help, and all he can see reflected in your face is love for the both of you and pride for how he’s handling this.

He has wanted to know his father for so long; didn’t think he would ever be handed the chance to meet him let alone get to know him. Yet, now that he’s here, standing in front of him, he feels conflicted as to what he should do.

James continues to glance between you and Sirius; the gears in his mind whirring away. Sirius begins to lose hope when his son starts to nod.

“I want to get to know you too.”

1994:

You felt at one with the parents standing on the platform. It wasn’t going to get easier to send your child off for their education for nine months of the year.

“I’ll write as soon as I’m settled!” Your son promises; shouting from his window where he sits with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He waves and waves as the train pulls away; you do just the same, remaining on the platform until the Hogwarts Express has chugged out of sight, taking your son with it.

An arm wrapping around your waist, and a kiss being pressed to the crown of your head keeps your grounded in the aftermath.

“It’ll be October before you know it.”

You sniffle, nodding, “I know, I just can’t believe he’s gone again.”

Sirius grip tightens on you, “If this is what it felt like the first time, I can’t imagine how you did it on your own.”

“I was a mess,” You laugh, “Sobbing and crying and everything.”

Sirius chuckles, “It’ll fly by won’t it?” – he asks for his own peace of mind.

It’s been less than a six months since he broke out of Azkaban to find out he was a father to a gangly teenaged boy. In that time, a relationship has been formed, and whilst he found himself loving his son as a father should, he knew that the trust built was as fragile as glass – one wrong move and it shatters.

In that time, he had fallen in love with you all over again. He had never stopped, but the love he felt for you in Azkaban was different from the love he felt for you now. In Azkaban, you felt like a dream – like a ghost haunting him with a past he couldn’t be sure was real; it had him feeling like he were the main love interest in a Bronte novel.

Now, however, his love for you shone out of every pore in his body. The horrors he faced in Azkaban paled when he rolled over in bed to find you sleeping peacefully next to him.

Sirius stands on the platform beside you, gazing at the absence of the train. He thinks of how his son had hugged him briefly before boarding the train; at how much that meant to Sirius, that in those few moments, his son had whispered ever so quietly that he would miss him, but he would see him soon.

Sirius thinks of all that he has lost and found, and with one look at you, he knows he has found enough.

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fanfic #Sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius black angst #angst #sirius black reader insert #sirius black fluff #sirius fluff #fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #sirius black imagine #imagine #my writing #sirius black x female reader #x reader

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castielsangelsx · 4 years

Text

Me Before You (ModernIvar! x Reader) Part One

Summary: Ivar is less than happy with your help.

(hope its okay, let me know what you guys think so far.)

-----------------------------------------------

It was the day you had lost your job at a cafe, the cafe you had been working at for over 5 years. Coming home to tell your family that you no longer had a job meant that your hopes for your future dwindled to nothing. All your dreams crushed all because the small cafe down the road was out of business.

However, the advert that seemed to give you an ounce of hope had popped up on your job search that night. It seemed like fate.

Laying on your bed with your laptop propped on your stomach and your older sister, Lily, laying by your side.

There the ad said:

HOUSEKEEPER AND CAREGIVER

SKILLS: N/A

URGENT HIRING

So typing away your details onto the application requirement, with your fingers crossed and toes crossed for a chance. Lily squeezed your shoulder, "you sure this job would suit you? I mean theirs no skills required, at least that'll fit." You let out an offended scoff, and she laughs jokingly. "I'm kidding, but seriously. The interviews are in a day, are you sure? This city has plenty of jobs out there, don't give up hope." You sigh at the reality of her words.

"I know Lil, but I mean, this doesn't look too bad." She smiles and gives you a reassuring squeeze on your arm—scanning over the details of the interview.

"I know that cafe, isn't it underneath that apartment complex?" You furrow your eyebrows and attempt to visualize the location of her specification. "Anyway, are there any other details for the job." Scanning over the application, you found nothing of importance but the email address you needed to send your resume and references. Aslaug Lothbrok.

Your sister looked over the name for a moment and hummed, "Lothbrok sounds familiar." You tilt your head and look over the title once more. The ring of the last name bounced along with your brain.

"Yeah, it does. Anyway, I better be preparing for that interview. I need something to wear." Hopping up onto your feet, scanning your cupboard, your sister laughs.

----

You'd arrived at the interview half an hour early, with nervous jitters and a full cup of coffee, you had discarded as a result of the nerves, you sat outside the cafe. The cafe you had arrived at was small but modern and was located directly underneath a tall apartment complex.

You hadn't realized how long it had been since you had an interview because you had completely forgotten how to think of answers in your own head. The time had sped, chewing away at your nails and rereading your resume you had read in an attempt to calm the jitters.

"Miss L/n?" You nod quickly looking to meet a tall woman. Standing up straight as fast as you could, she lends her hand out to shake, and you shake it. She was gorgeous. She had thin oval eyes and a perfect smile. She was far from what you envisioned.

She wore neat clothes, she was professional, and her stature supported that idea for sure.

Motioning to the small table and chair set within the little cafe, you took a seat. With a copy of your resume in hand, you pass it over to Aslaug as she holds a clipboard in hand.

She looks over your resume before looking up at you again, looking you over for a moment.

"Your previous employer says you're hardworking and chatty?" She looks over your resume with care.

"Yes," you say with a forced smile on your face. Anxiety eating away at your gut, your leg shaking up and down onto the ground.

"Any previous caregiving roles?" She asks, tilting her head in question.

"Um, not really, I've cared for my grandfather once after he broke his hip." You mentally facepalm at your words. She furrows her eyebrows and looks to you,

"Have you had any experience with osteogenesis imperfecta?" Your eyes widened, oh lord.

"Um, no, ma'am, I have not." She furrowed her eyebrows at your answer. You knew this was the end. "I can learn, I'm a fast learner." Aslaug raised her eyebrows now and then looked down at her clipboard.

"Why should I give you this job? You have demonstrated a lack of response to my key question." You were desperate. This job meant the world.

"I'm sorry I just really need a job. I'm a quick learner, and I would be happy to help your husband in any way."

"My husband?" She asked with her head tilted and shock on her face, "No, this is for my son Ivar." You gulp harshly.

"I can make a mean cup of tea." You say, with a hopeful smile on your face, and she seemed to soften her features. She looked you over for a moment before sighing.

"Would you like the job?" She asked, and your eyes widened in complete shock. You nod vigorously.

"Of course."

"You've got the job." Your smile turns wide, and without thought, she stands up, and with a handful of keys, she hands them to you. "These are the apartment keys, I'll show you the way up. Ivar isn't to be woken, so these keys will be of help."

Nodding at her words before placing them into your handbag. Leading the way towards the elevator past a set of doors, you step inside. She presses on the 4th level and looks ahead.

"Your son lives here?" She hums in response to your curiousty. A calm quiet settles as she shuffles with the clipboard in hand. You still were dumbfounded that you had gotten the job. Even more that you were directly sitting under your place of work.

"I've attached the number of the apartment floor and door to the keys, but I'll show you to the apartment."

"I hope that keeping house maintenance, preparing meals, and getting him up every morning will be okay." She almost states, you nod and hum. How hard could cleaning be? I mean, you were beyond happy to have a job that cleaning and cooking seemed nothing.

Reaching the fourth level, she steps out, and you follow. The hallway was neat and left a few doors on each side to number 23, where Aslaug stopped. Using the keys in her hand to open the door, you're met with a sight you did not expect.

Mess. A big mess. Junk and piles of clothes scattered everywhere, you questioned the job in question. Aslaug sighs at your wide-eyed response. You had completely forgotten who you were here for, her son, Ivar.

"Ivar, she's here." She shouts. You didn't expect anyone to be home, considering the mess was unlivable, and the apartment was quiet. To be fair, it no longer looked like an apartment but the result of a house party.

However, as you head the sound of crutches and a tall, dark-haired male enter the room through another door, expected to be from the bedroom, Ivar appeared. He was nothing you has suspected, long hair and tired eyes. You were staring. You barely even noticed his imperfect legs before Ivar scoffed in your direction.

Shifting in his spot from the crutches, Ivar narrows his eyes and studies you, and you gulp. Aslaug clears her throat, "This is y/n, she's here to stay." She almost says it as a warning. As if I wasn't the first one who she had brought to the wrecked house.

"I'll let you two settle, I'll just fix up the paperwork for your wages." You nod and smile at her, looking to her as she walks out the door, giving you one more look before leaving. Almost waiting for you to run away with her.

Looking back towards Ivar, he clenches his jaw and looks you over with distaste, "come to help the crippled?" You furrow your eyebrows at his almost attempts at an insult.

"Um."

"She says you're chatty." You nod and smile and his interjection. His face was tense and laced with distaste. Realizing his words wasn't a compliment, your smile fades.

You sure missed Aslaug's presence. Turning your head around, noticing the disarray of what looked to be the kitchen. Dishes stacked up onto the bench and sink. God, the mess was horrible.

"I'm y/n."

"Yeah, you've said that." He says plainly. With a staggering step with his crutch, he shifts in his spot with distaste laced on his face.

"Well, I do not need your help," Ivar limps towards the balcony with this crutch in his hand, leaving you amidst the mess in the kitchen. The new area made you uncomfortable, but you weren't paid by him, so that gave you some reassurance.

Fiddling with your bag, you waited by the kitchen, taking note of the mess. Looking out towards the balcony entered from the living room, Ivar's back turned to you.

You waited for Aslaug to return. You sure missed serving coffee at the cafe. This was going to be a weird job starting tomorrow, Ivar would surely warm up to you. Right?

TAGLIST: @youbloodymadgenius @gruffle1 @lonewolf471

#vikings ivar #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #Ivar Bjørnson #ivar #ivar x you #ivar x plus size reader #ivar x reader #modern ivar #vikingseries #viking imagines #vikings ubbe #vikings imagine #vikings x reader imagines #vikings x reader

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cheeriecherry · 4 years

Text

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [3/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 2/9 (Planning has added another part)

Warnings: panic attacks, reader being a little awkward

A week passes in the blink of an eye. You’ve tried to keep busy while your friends are away at work, but you can only clean the house so many times before it becomes monotonous.

You’ve also checked out a few apartments that are renting, but every single one you’ve visited so far has left you disappointed: too small, in the wrong neighborhood, no yard, wrong vibe. A little piece of you knows you’re making excuses to stay with Shouta and Hizashi longer, but you can’t help that you want your new place to fit your needs perfectly.

In the same breath, you’ve also done what you promised you would, and looked into a few of the resources Shouta provided you with, for counseling and therapy services. You thought it would be easy enough, check out the websites, set up an appointment, etcetera etcetera, but the moment you open one of the tabs your throat closes up.

You’ve been trying for three days to look through everything, trying to push through your discomfort and underlying panic, but so far the only thing it’s done is make you tired and cranky and stressed.

You close the laptop for the fourth day in a row, having spent the last half hour reading through yet another counseling site. Maybe it’s your anxiety, maybe it’s your fear of admitting you’re struggling, maybe it’s because you know you’ll have to talk about things you really don’t want to talk about...but none of these places feel like the right fit. Just like the apartments.

You glance at the clock on the wall, sighing deeply when you find that it’s barely past noon.

Maybe you should get out, go for a walk or something? You don’t have very many clothes, so maybe you could go to the mall. Shop around a bit, get something to eat. Treat yourself.

It’s a good idea, you decide, and you need the fresh air.

----

When you walk into the mall, you instantly wish you’d stayed home.

It’s busy, and uncomfortably so. Elderly folks meeting up, parents pushing strollers with small children, a couple of highschool kids ditching class.

Surely no one would pay you any mind if you just turned around and walked right back out?

No, you think, taking a deep breath, I can do this. It’s just people.

You try to walk normally, and look like you’re not wincing at every step you take further into the crowd. It’s just people.

...People I can’t protect.

The thought pops into your mind faster than you can catch it, and your gait stutters. You push it away and keep walking, but it’s as if the psychological floodgates have been opened.

A villain could attack right now, and I wouldn’t do anything.

Your chest tightens.

I’m a useless excuse for a hero.

Your hands start shaking.

I would just stand there and watch them die. Just like-

You squeeze your eyes shut, and beeline to the nearest bench, sitting down to try and take a few calming breaths.

It starts to work, and you can feel your body relaxing slightly, until an elderly woman decides to take up the seat next to you. Your skin buzzes with electricity, hyper-aware of her presence beside you. When you glance over at her, you find that she’s smiling kindly at you.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks, reaching out to rest a dainty hand on your knee.

You resist the guttural urge to snap away from her. She’s just checking on you, you tell yourself, don’t be rude.

“I’m- yes. I’m okay,” you say with a shaky voice, “Thank you.” You can tell she doesn’t quite believe it, and you don’t blame her. You probably look a mess, a trembling, blanched, wide-eyed mess.

You track her movement as she reaches into the purse tucked under her arm, expecting something, anything, any kind of threat to appear, but she only pulls out a small red lollipop. She offers it to you with a wrinkled hand, gently pressing it into your palm.

“A distraction, perhaps?” she suggests, “Sweets always make me feel better.”

You thank her quietly and unwrap the treat, sticking it in your cheek. You try to focus on the overwhelming flavour, the sickly sweet synthetic cherry, the way it burns against your tongue.

Another woman calls out to the lady beside you, who squeezes your knee softly. “I hope you feel better soon, dear,” she says, standing. “Have a lovely afternoon.”

You smile and nod at her, and the moment she’s out of sight you spit the candy out and bolt towards the exit.

----

You finally stop running about a block away from the mall, heart beating erratically and chest so tight you can barely breathe. You find a nearby empty bench and fall onto it, and let your head hang low. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, and your vision is blurry, and it doesn’t help the threat of oncoming nausea.

Thankfully now that you’re out in the open, you begin to calm down again. You wipe at your eyes to rid yourself of your tears, and try to focus on the feeling of the bench pressing into your legs. Warm from the sun against your skin, sturdy and unwavering metal slats holding you steady, slight tremor when someone sits down next to you…

Not again, you think, shrinking away from the person.

“Rough day?” they ask. You eye them cautiously, taking note of every detail.

You can’t tell if they’re a boy or a girl, not that it really matters to you. They’re young, maybe sixteen, clad in dark baggy clothes. Their posture is casual, comfortable, hands shoved in pockets, and they don’t look old enough to have graduated school. You wonder if they’re skipping class, but you don’t really care.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “Something like that.”

The kid turns towards you, slinging an arm over the back of the bench.

“That’s too bad,” they say, genuinity unsettling you, “Nice lady like you shouldn’t be lookin’ so sad.”

Your stomach roils with anxiety, and you’re sure your blood pressure has skyrocketed again. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, standing, “I’m not really in the mood to talk. I’m...I’m gonna go-”

A slender hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, holding you in place.

“Wait, please! I’ve been looking for you for days-”

Pain shoots up your arm, and you glare down at the teen, fury overtaking your mind. “Let go of me before I rip your fucking arm off.”

“Please, let me explain-”

You rip your arm out of their grip, and take a few weak steps backwards. “If you’ve been looking for me, then you know who I am, and you know what I’ve done. Don’t think I’ll hesitate to break you into pieces if you come near me again.”

The kid stares at you with wide honey-brown eyes, an inkling of fear flashing behind them.

Good.

You waste no time turning around to run back home, leaving your assailant behind.

----

Ten o’clock finds Shouta and Hizashi walking through the front door, the latter talking animatedly about something you couldn’t quite hear.

You stir the ladle around the pot a few times, judging the thickness of the stew you’re preparing, while you listen to them chatter back and forth. A sad smile graces your features, and you wonder if this is the way they usually come home; tired, but always happy to have each other.

“Something smells really good in here!”

You crane your head to the doorway right as Hizashi traipses in. He zeroes in on you in an instant, coming over to wrap you in a tight hug. It surprises you, even though it shouldn’t. In years past, he was always the most open with physical affection, often greeting you and Shouta with touches and hugs and kisses on the cheek.

“You guys are right on time,” you say, reaching across the stove to flip the burner off, “Dinner’s ready.”

Hizashi makes haste in preparing a bowl for himself, dashing out to the dining room to find a seat. You shake your head and fix some stew for yourself and Shouta, following in suit shortly after. The two of them are already set up around the table, making smalltalk with each other while they wait for you.

Shouta thanks you when you set his bowl down in front of him, but waits until you sit to start eating.

“So how were your days?” you ask, stirring your meal absently, “Did anything interesting happen?”

Hizashi shrugs, and doesn’t even bother to swallow before answering. “Not really. Between teaching and hosting a radio show, it actually gets pretty repetitive.”

You have a hard time believing that. Before you’d left, his stories about his students and his shows were endless and hilarious, and he’d talk about them for hours on end if you let him.

“What about patrol?”

“Eh, same same. Stopped a couple small timers, you know, convenience store robbery, purse theft, that kind of thing. Nothing big.”

You nod. “I’d consider that a win. Smaller villains means smaller paperwork…”

The three of you break into an uneasy silence, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You eat your meal slowly, and avoid looking at either of them. Something was on their minds, and you had a feeling you knew what it was, but if you didn’t look at either of them then maybe they wouldn’t ask you…

Finally, Shouta sighs. “This is idiotic.”

“Sho,” Hizashi hisses, but doesn’t get much else out.

“There was something we needed to talk to you about, but you seem like you’ve had some kind of day. It might be easier to talk about it later.”

You think back to your eventful afternoon filled with panic attacks, and mask the worry with a smile. “It wasn’t too bad,” you assure them, “Besides, you’ve got me curious, now. Spit it out!”

Shouta sets his spoon down. “I was wondering if you’d consider being a guest speaker for the first year hero classes at Yuuei. They need to learn about all the possibilities of hero work, including undercover missions.”

“And I figured that since you’re here now,” Hizashi interrupts, “you’d be a perfect candidate!”

You’re surprised, to say the least, and it’s obvious.

“Take some time to think about it. You’ve got a couple weeks, still, so you don’t need to decide right away.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You’re grateful for the buffering period, because as much as you’d love to say yes to them, you’re not sure if you could handle speaking in front of a bunch of teens. Especially if your afternoon was any indication of your coping abilities.

What would you even talk about? Would you have to prepare a presentation? A speech? Or would they simply ask you questions? And god, how would you answer said questions? How could you tell a bunch of young hopefuls that undercover missions are almost always riddled with violence and PTSD?

You take another bite of stew. “I’ll...consider it.”

----

The rest of the dinner is more comfortable, filled with idle conversation and a couple of old jokes. It’s nothing compared to how the three of you used to be, and a little piece of you wonders if you’ve done something to upset the balance the two of them had created together.

Of course I have, you think, I showed up after disappearing for years and now I’m taking up their couch.

Still, there seems to be something more, some kind of tension beyond the stresses of recent events. Maybe it just felt different because you were different, more closed off to the world, to people, but it’s not like you could help it.

You couldn’t bear to lose either of them, if they were to find out what really happened on your mission. The things you saw, the things you did.

You could foot a little bit of awkwardness if it meant you would get to keep them in your life.

The three of you bid goodnight after you eat, each of you tired after a long day. You know for a fact that you won’t be able to sleep yet, not without nightmares, but you dim the lights anyways to keep your friends from questioning you.

You get comfortable on the couch and pull Shouta’s laptop over, flipping the screen open to continue your search about counseling services. You’ve gone through every suggestion on his list, save for one.

And so far, as you scroll through their website, it seems to be okay. The staff members and doctors seem to be knowledgeable, and the numerous patient reviews praise them for their compassion, kindness, reasonable prices, and short wait list.

You scroll around a little more, picking out whatever contact information is available. Most of it is done through email, it seems, which you’re fine with.

You open a new email document and start typing, asking what kind of information you need to provide and how the process works, and what steps you need to take in order to get a consultation appointment.

You don’t expect an answer until tomorrow, so you’re pleasantly surprised when a reply pops into your inbox not five minutes later.

‘Hello, Miss Y/N,’ it reads, ‘Thank you for contacting us. I’m Nurse Yumi, a member of the practising night staff. It’s a big step to seek help when you’re struggling, so we appreciate you reaching out to us. If you’d like, we can set up a consultation appointment for tomorrow afternoon. I’ve attached the preliminary forms to fill out before your visit, if you could please have them completed before then. If this is agreeable for you, let me know and I'll give you the time and date.

Well wishes,

Nurse Practitioner Yumi.’

You quickly type up another email, thanking them for their quick notification as well as confirming your availability.

You set a reminder in your phone before you lay down so you don’t forget about it, and shut down the laptop, placing it back on the coffee table. You’re not quite ready to sleep yet, but you know if you stay up any later then it’ll be harder to wake up on time.

Begrudgingly, you curl up on your side and try to think about nothing as you doze off.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #present mic x reader #erasermic x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Space Between #theres actually nine parts now #dont worry the fluffy shit happens next chapter

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foxghost · 3 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 64

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 2, Chapter 15 (Part 2)

The dining hall falls quiet for a while as something seems to be occupying Bian Lingbai’s mind, and he keeps glancing at Duan Ling; in the end, it is Duan Ling who speaks first to break this awkward silence. “When is the wedding?”

“During the seventh month,” Yao Jing replies. “Uncle Yao Fu told me to wait in Tongguan, as the groom’s family in Xiliang will send someone for me.”

“You’ve had a rough journey,” Bian Lingbai says to Yao Jing. “You don’t have any servants you’re used to right now, so your Uncle Bian will make sure to give you a full retinue to take with you. If you want you can also ask that steward of yours to keep an eye out in the marketplace.”

“Sure,” Yao Jing replies, and seemingly reminded that her maid and servants were killed by those bandits, her expression darkens.

“You should go get some rest.” Bian Lingbai tells her.

Yao Jing nods and takes her leave. Duan Ling watches her go, feeling slightly baffled.

It’s one thing for the Marquess of Huaiyin’s niece from the Jiangzuo region to be married off all the way to Xiliang, but for her to have so few servants and end up getting kidnapped along the way is another thing altogether. Instead of the tradition of being picked up by her Tangut groom’s family in her hometown, she’s been sent here to Tongguan instead; on top of that, the entire business of the engagement is left in Bian Lingbai’s hands. What in the world is going on?

The only possibility is that … she’s out of favour with the marquess.

“What is it?” Bian Lingbai takes a sip of wine and says to Duan Ling, “Have you taken a fancy to the Yao family’s young lady?”

Duan Ling laughs. “Even if I fancy her it’s not like I’ll ever have a chance.”

Bian Lingbai bursts out laughing, finding Duan Ling’s candid ways rather amusing. He explains, “Your uncle was going to form a marriage alliance with the Yaos back in the day, but alas his own children were all too young and hadn’t reached marriageable age. So he actually asked me if it’s possible to arrange Yao Zheng for his nephew — he must have meant you. If he’s still alive, he wouldn’t have thought much of this young woman.”

Duan Ling nods, his expression coloured with melancholy.

Bian Lingbai says, “In a little while, the groom’s party from Xiliang will be here to pick her up. Once I’m done with those arrangements I’ll take some time to help you settle in.”

“I have something with me as well,” Duan Ling says, “I came all the way here to bring it to you, Uncle Bian …”

“Hm?” Bian Lingbai glances at Duan Ling absently, but Wu Du is frowning slightly, and then he coughs once.

Duan Ling looks at Wu Du as if asking for his approval, and Wu Du looks a bit displeased, the furrow between his brows deepening.

Duan Ling nods at Wu Du, but by now Bian Lingbai is getting somewhat impatient. “What are you being so secretive about?”

Duan Ling reaches into his lapel for an item, and stepping forward he hands it to Bian Lingbai. Bian Lingbai isn’t paying attention to it at first, and only once Duan Ling has untied the silk ribbon around the treasure map and unrolled it slowly in front of him does Bian Lingbai turn his attention onto Duan Ling’s face.

“What is this?”

Duan Ling thinks, this is the treasure map you’ve been looking for all along, but he doesn’t dare put it like that. He merely gives Bian Lingbai a nod and gets back to his own seat.

Wu Du scoffs. “Lucky you.”

Nonplussed, Bian Lingbai picks up the map by the edges and stares at it. Then with a sudden shudder his expression quickly changes and he turns to Duan Ling with an incredulous look on his face.

“My uncle hid it in the folds of a strategy manual and had it brought to me.” Duan Ling explains in detail the story he made up himself; basically, it’s about how Zhao Kui had great expectations of him, and asked him to familiarise himself with books on military strategy. He also hid this map in the cover and gave it to him so that once the pages of the Art of War have been turned so many times that the book falls apart, the map will reveal itself.

The story itself is actually full of holes — why would Zhao Kui not leave such a wonderful thing to his own son, and give it to his nephew instead, for instance — but the moment Duan Ling spies the look in Bian Lingbai’s eyes, he knows that nothing else really matters anymore.

“Wonderful … This is wonderful.” A strange look comes over Bian Lingbai’s eyes as he stares unblinkingly at the treasure map.

As Duan Ling looks into those eyes, he gets the distinct feeling that he seems to have seen that look somewhere before.

It’s the same look Cai Yan used to have in his eyes when he stared at Duan Ling’s jade arc.

Duan Ling only experiences a momentary lapse of attention before he’s dragged back to reality by Bian Lingbai’s crazed laughter.

“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Bian Lingbai says, “Wait here a moment.”

He promptly puts away the treasure map and leaves the room without saying anything else.

A bewildered Duan Ling turns to see what Wu Du will say, but instead of talking to him Wu Du simply keeps eating. Even as the night-watchmen have started ringing the first of the night watch, Bian Lingbai still hasn’t come back.

He’s probably gone to verify the map’s authenticity, Duan Ling surmises, and wonders if things will go smoothly if their plan continues to unfold in this direction. As they’re not alone he dares not converse with Wu Du, so once he finishes eating, he waits quietly. By the time a guard shows up to bring Duan Ling to Bian Lingbai’s study, it’s already quite late in the night, but the guard asks Wu Du not to follow.

Duan Ling and Wu Du exchange glances. Wu Du nods at him. They know that the true test of Duan Ling’s abilities has come.

Bian Lingbai is sitting in the study with an elderly man by his side, and judging by the man’s appearance he’s not young anymore, but he doesn’t wear a beard. With a pair of gloves on, he’s carefully examining the treasure map, looking up to give Duan Ling a nod when he comes in.

“This here is Master Fei.” Bian Lingbai says to Duan Ling, “His first name is Hongde, and he’s two generations your senior. He has worked for your uncle, as well as the late emperor. He is extremely knowledgeable.”

Duan Ling greets him politely.

“Where did you get this map?” The elderly man asks Duan Ling.

Thereby Duan Ling roughly repeats the explanation he gave Bian Lingbai earlier. The elderly man then gives him a slow nod, smiles, and says to Bian Lingbai, “Congratulations, general. Once you unearth this buried treasure, it will be enough to satisfy whatever our army may need.”

Bian Lingbai says to the elderly man, “Truly the heavens are on my side. When do you think will be a good time to start excavating, Master Fei?”

“We must wait a little while longer.” Fei Hongde rolls the map back up and returns it to Bian Lingbai. “No matter what, you must make sure this comes to the attention of no one else. I will survey the location personally, and let you know as soon as I find anything.”

On second thought, Bian Lingbai supposes that’s prudent, and he quickly nods to agree. “Should I send a squad of men over to keep watch over the area for now?”

Fei Hongde explains, “You can send some men disguised as mounted bandits and tell them to keep watch at the foot of the mountain, but since no one’s been there in twenty years I’m sure nothing can go wrong now. At the moment, you, me, and young Mister Zhao are the only ones who know of its existence, and I’m sure we can keep a secret. There’s no need for you to worry, General Bian.”

“Yes,” Bian Lingbai says, “You’re quite right.”

As he finishes speaking, Bian Lingbai breaks out once more into a belly laugh. He beckons Duan Ling over to sit at his side, claps him over the shoulder, and says, “The heavens have sent you here to aid me — this deed shall be done!”

Duan Ling smiles and nods, putting on a good show of being happy for Bian Lingbai. But Fei Hongde is staring at Duan Ling. “You must have had a difficult journey. I’d also just come back from Xiliang.”

Duan Ling says, “It was alright. I had Wu Du with me.”

Fei Hongde hums in agreement before continuing, “When did you cross into Xichuan?”

“Around the beginning of the year,” Duan Ling tells Fei Hongde.

“A number of the Shandong Guard used to work for your dad, and after they were relieved from duty they joined the Ministry of War. It’s surprising to me that you did not go looking for them but went to Wu Du instead. That was a good move on your part.”

“I couldn’t let them know I’m alive; after all, it’s hard to see what a person’s really thinking.”

Fei Hongde nods. “After that cousin of yours got married, where did she end up settling down?”

Duan Ling’s heart is beating out of his chest. He knows Fei Hongde is only pretending to reminisce with him while verifying his identity. Good thing he made sure to do his homework before his arrival. He asks, “Which cousin?”

Fei Hongde smiles. “Well, that I don’t quite remember. Back in the day when I was working for the late emperor in Shandong, I heard that you had a cousin on the maternal side with a face that could sink a thousand ships …”

“Fourth sister.” Duan Ling says immediately, “She fell ill later on.”

Fei Hongde nods slowly, and Bian Lingbai says to Duan Ling, “Master Fei has been everywhere. Even though he’s Tangut by birth, he’s an exceptional writer among those in my army. You can ask him for help with your studies.”

“Certainly,” Duan Ling replies.

Fei Hongde says to Bian Lingbai, “General, you still need to bring me a map of the area outside Tongguan so that we can discuss this in detail.”

Duan Ling knows his work is done here; Bian Lingbai then proceeds to shower him with advice and kind words, telling Duan Ling to get some rest. His present attitude towards Duan Ling compared to when he freshly arrived is already as different as night and day; he’s acting like an older brother.

Once Duan Ling is gone, Bian Lingbai turns to Fei Hongde and asks, “What do you think?”

Fei Hongde meditates on this a moment before replying, “There’s no problem with his identity. He should indeed be a member of Zhao Pu’s family.”

It’s only then that Bian Lingbai puts his mind at ease. “There is also the possibility that he’s an imposter.”

"Unlikely. You saw him too; this boy must have come from a literati family, and he shows the bearing of the descendent of a military man. He says little, but he’s quite natural and sedate when he does speak. When facing you, he’s not afraid — all that confidence is right there in his heart. That is absolutely not just any cowering boy one can find anywhere. Where would Wu Du even try to find a young man like that? And besides, doing so won’t do him any good.

Bian Lingbai supposes he’s right; what could Wu Du ever hope to gain by escorting a young man a thousand miles with a treasure map just to deliver money to him?

“That knave first betrayed General Zhao, then he killed Li Jianhong.” Bian Lingbai’s not even sure how he’s supposed to feel about this. “Even if he’s living under Mu Kuangda’s protection now, I’m sure he’s having a hard time of it. He must be trying to find some other livelihood.”

"Wu Du is a hesitant, indecisive man. Moreover, once he’s taken shelter with the Mu family, Chang Liujun will surely try to keep him down — he’d never tolerate Wu Du making a name for himself. He has nowhere left to go other than to come pledge his allegiance to you. This is to be expected.”

“If Helan Jie hasn’t come to me before he did … Having Wu Du at my disposal is not a bad thing.”

Fei Hongde heaves a sigh and says to Bian Lingbai, "Speaking of Helan Jie, I stand by my objection to your taking him in. If the government ever finds out he’s working for you, you won’t ever be able to clear yourself of any ties to the late emperor’s death.”

“Oh never mind that.” Bian Lingbai waves off his words with impatience. “You don’t need to say any more.”

Fei Hongde nods. “I will set out on surveying this area in the next several days.”

Fei Hongde rises and takes his leave. After he leaves the room, a seemingly perpetual smile returns to Bian Lingbai’s face. He unrolls the map, and looks at it over and over again, greed plain in his expression.

Late in the night Wu Du and Duan Ling head back to their rooms through the winding corridor.

A cool breeze wafts by. Duan Ling suddenly stops walking, and feeling something strange in the air, he stands in front of the covered gallery.

A full moon hangs over Tongguan, so big that it doesn’t even look real, spilling its pale silvery light upon the earth. Wu Du comes to a stop and turns to look at Duan Ling, one perplexed eyebrow raised.

“What is it?” Wu Du asks.

Duan Ling shakes his head; he has an odd feeling, but it’s not anything he can describe.

Wu Du stands behind Duan Ling and puts a hand on his shoulder, and together they look up beyond the courtyard. Beneath the bright moon Duan Ling has a false sense of who he is, as though he’s really become this “Zhao Rong”.

“The waters of Lake Dian, the moon of Tongguan,” Wu Du says, “the pine trees of Mount Yuheng, the snow of Languan.”2

Duan Ling immediately turns his head to say to Wu Du. “You know about that too?”

“Know about what?” Wu Du says, sounding bewildered.

“Those …” Duan Ling is reminded of those vast lands of the central plain Li Jianhong once spoke of, and he mediates for a moment on his thoughts before saying, “My dad also used to say that there are far too many beautiful places in the world.”

“Those born unbound in the itinerant layer of society have hearts that long to roam,” Wu Du says offhandedly.

“I see now this is what he meant by ‘the moon of Tongguan’. And there’s also the maple forests beneath Yubiguan …”

“You’ll see it someday,” Wu Du tells Duan Ling, “let’s go.”

“Do you mean to say you’ll take me there?”

“You can go ahead and think that if you’d like.”

They can’t say too much in Bian Lingbai’s estate, but he knows what Wu Du is trying to tell him; once they finish their work there, if he really wants to go, of course Wu Du can take him on a trip.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also e that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Lake Dian is in Yunnan, Mount Yuheng is by the new capital, Jiangzhou, while “the snow of Languan” refers to a line in a poem. Languan isn’t a “pass”, but a mountain path in Qinling. (Tongguan is by Qinling) The poem referenced how the snow in Languan pass is piled so high that even horses would halt at the sight of it. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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carmenlire · 4 years

Text

To An Inauspicious Start

read on ao3

There’s a man and it’s probably nothing.

Alec steps into the 24/7 coffee shop at a time no one should be awake-- not the employees, not the four customers who look mostly dead and full of long suffering regret, and certainly not Alec himself.

He’s having trouble sleeping these days.

As he waits at the cash register, he thinks over his schedule. He took a late nap yesterday evening and it just served to fuck with his circadian rhythm even more. He has to be at the office in four hours and it seems absurd, to be dressed in a three piece suit in a shitty cafe where the lights are unflattering and flickering and the staff looks like they’re two espresso shots from collapsing.

Alec can relate.

He orders his black eye, thankful when the barista doesn’t blink at the horrifying request, and turns toward the half dozen empty tables.

There’s a woman sitting in the corner with a stroller. He can see the dark shadows under her eyes from here as she absently soothes her kid.

Across the room, there are a couple of teenagers, both of whom look equal parts emotional and blase as they huddle together on the same side of the booth.

Hastily removing his gaze from them, his eyes land on the only other occupant of the coffee shop.

It’s probably sleep deprivation edging towards delirium that makes Alec want to sit down across from the man.

He’s handsome, in an in your face kind of way that makes Alec almost want to apologize for daring to look at him in the first place. But there’s a softer undertone to the man’s appearance that makes Alec want to take a second look, a third and fourth.

It’s in the smudge of his eyeliner, the way his expression seems almost pasted onto his face-- a facade hiding what he’s truly feeling.

Alec only recognizes it because he sees the same tightness in his own face whenever he looks in the mirror.

He wants to keep looking, allows himself a ludicrous moment to contemplate throwing caution and common sense to the wind to introduce himself to the man who sips at his tea with all the elegance expected of a drawing room engagement.

Alec’s not that kind of man, though, and anyone at a coffee shop this far before dawn can only be seeking their own sort of solace. He’d be an ass to infringe upon that, not when he came here to be by himself but among others in the same way.

Choosing his seat by the window, Alec shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it across the back of his chair before taking a seat. Mondays always come earlier and it seems like lately, they’d been barreling into him earlier than ever.

He can’t deny that most people would probably still consider it Sunday night.

The only sound in the little cafe is the ill-tempered screech of the espresso machine, the tiny gurgling of a baby fighting sleep. It’s pitch black outside with barely a soul on the street.

It’s soothing in its own way, Alec thinks. It’s almost as though he’s not a person in this space, at this time. He’s not a man aiming to make partner before the year’s out. He’s not a fucking disgrace of a son keeping a secret from his parents that would blow the whole damn family apart in its scandal and deviance.

He’s not a depressed fuck with more issues than he knows what to do with, no matter that he’ll be twenty six in a few weeks and by all accounts-- his own estimations-- he should have stopped feeling like he was barely clinging onto adulthood years ago.

That’s the thing, he thinks with a derisive little smile that’s aimed at himself before anyone else. He’s an adult and there’s no denying it but jesus christ sometimes he feels like the anvil’s about to drop on top of his head at any moment, someone popping out from the woodwork to tell him he actually has been fucking up his life all these years, that he’s wasted it all on petty promises and aimless cyclical thinking and it’s all downhill from here.

As though he doesn’t already feel like that most days.

His stomach gives a little pang and Alec spares a moment to pin down the last time he ate. There was a granola bar when he woke up from his nap several hours ago, before he spent another several hours staring at the wall and wondering if everyone else feels like this too and is just better at hiding it.

Deciding it’s not worth the effort of ordering from the cafe’s limited menu-- he doesn’t want a fucking croissant and the oatmeal would probably taste like cardboard-- Alec leans back in his chair and stares out the window, which mostly means he watches himself in the reflection of the window, it turning into a mirror throwing his own pristine appearance back in his face.

It’s almost a surprise that he doesn’t look as haggard as he feels. But no, he shaved and slipped into one of his dozen pressed suits, perfectly tailored and understated.

It wouldn’t do for a Lightwood to look anything less than his best, whether they’re going to the office or an all night cafe on a forgotten street.

As he eases into himself, thoughts that he’d been pushing back crowd closer in the quiet and in the sharp haziness of the hour, Alec admits that there are worse places to be.

Sure, maybe he wishes he was sleeping and he would definitely be more comfortable in his hoodie sinking into his couch, but this is what he’d wanted, what he needed.

There’s a barrier between him and the rest of the world and while it’s self-imposed, he likes to imagine that he has control here too, that his suit and watch and fucking coiffed hair makes him inaccessible in a way so that it doesn’t feel so much like he can’t connect to everybody else but that they can’t approach him.

It’s a fine line but he thinks it keeps him sane, that illusion of control.

He’s not so caught up in his head that he doesn’t notice the barista set his drink down. He thanks her with a nod and takes the first jarring sip that almost makes him choke on the bitterness.

It’s good. It makes him feel something, even if it’s mostly revulsion and resignation that he’s going to finish the whole damn drink before probably ordering another.

Alec’s twenty five and thinks he shouldn’t feel like this. He feels old and not in the charming, romantic way.

In the way that probably means he’ll be lucky to make it to thirty at this rate.

Work is a never ending garbage fire and just the thought of stepping into the glass fronted building makes his skin crawl. Dealing with pompous asshole coworkers he really couldn’t care less about, humoring clients that are rude and frankly, dumb as fuck and entitled to boot. It’s all a drain on him and he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the next thirty years like this when it’s barely been three and he already feels like he’s mostly dead.

Then there’s that other matter that ebbs and flows through his conscious like trash in the ocean. It’s weighing particularly heavy lately, the thought that there’s a whole area of his life that his family don’t know about-- can’t know about-- and sometimes he’s so tired of catering to their bigoted, shitty little sensibilities that he wants to scream, thinks he’d scream his throat raw if given half the opportunity.

Jace is getting married at the end of the year and having to listen to him plan honeymoons and engagement parties and stress about vows and looking like a fool during the first dance, all while planning a bachelor party that none of the attendees will remember if all goes well, is--

Well, it’s a lot. On top of everything else, it fills Alec with a hollowness in his chest and it burns, shrinks his soul until he feels like grinding it under his heel.

He’ll never have that-- the celebration, the loudness, the acceptance, the purity of happiness and hope.

It’s a pill that’s becoming increasingly bitter the older he gets and it’s another thing Alec can’t even fathom dealing with until he fucking dies.

Heavy is the head, he thinks to himself with a mocking grin but that’s bullshit and he knows it. In another world, Alec Lightwood is brave and daring and maybe even a little selfish.

In this world, he’s the heir dealt a shit hand and that means there’s no respite. There’s only forward, slow plodding steps as he becomes the man his parents groomed him to be, the son set to take over the family reigns without blemish or complaint.

Goddamn, he’s tired.

Alec doesn’t know how long he sits there but eventually he notices that the light is a little brighter, the window less a mirror revealing all the weaknesses he tries to hide and instead showing the outside world, the hum of a city waking up for the day.

Straightening his back with a little groan, cracking his neck and wincing, Alec takes a look around the shop.

The teenagers look mostly asleep in the corner-- that is until Alec sees one of them kiss the one who was crying earlier on top of their head before adjusting his earbud and settling back.

The woman and kid must’ve left awhile ago, their place clean and empty.

The man who Alec had almost made a fool of himself over is gone, too. In the privacy of his own mind, Alec’s not afraid to admit he’s a little sad about that. Nothing could’ve happened.

Nothing did happen.

But Alec’s always been a little bit of a hopeless romantic, despite his best efforts. He tends to land on a subject, an idea, a detail, and worry it to shreds, turning it over and over until everything’s just the way he likes it, barely recognizable.

So maybe there was a part of Alec that thought what if, maybe, one day, perhaps.

But the man is gone and while Alec’s favorite past time is wasting energy on things that have no hope of happening, he files the intriguing stranger away in his head to dwell on during another rough night when human connection seems the worst sort of punishment and his greatest solace all wrapped up into one faraway ideal.

That is, until he looks down at his empty cup and sees a napkin where there shouldn’t be one.

Alec has a weird but deep seated resentment towards napkins and never uses them, never picks them up just in case. But, there’s a napkin on the edge of his table and even from here he can see the dark smudges of ink lining the corner.

You look like you’re having a rough night, darling. Us insomniacs have to stick together. Let me know if you’re ever in the mood to share the weight on your shoulders with a stranger who’s been told his are excellent for crying or comfort or a little distraction. -- Magnus

Magnus.

Interesting name, Alec thinks as he reads the message a second time-- and a third and a fourth and a fifth until he thinks he’ll see the stupid little napkin in his dreams, until the numbers accompanying the message seem seared into his mind.

His first thought is that this Magnus is kind. Who does that, not only notices a stranger have an awful time but goes out of their way to do something about it.

It’s intriguing, a little scary, a lot tempting.

Still.

Alec’s a grown man and he doesn’t need a shoulder. He’s too busy for that, has far too much at stake to let someone else-- a stranger at that-- see all the shit that his brain spews at him every minute of every fucking day.

No, he decides. A kind gesture, while appreciated, does not have to be acknowledged.

Wishing Magnus a very lovely Monday-- hell, a great week-- Alec shakes his head a little to clear his thoughts and tamp down on the urge to text a stranger all of his problems and hope, by the grace of God, that they can do anything to alleviate some of the weight from his chest.

Sighing and wishing he didn’t sound so damned tired even to his own ears, Alec stands and makes his way back to the cashier to order another black eye and start towards the office. He’ll probably be the first one there but he has a reputation to uphold, a partnership to earn.

Still.

Before he leaves his table, Alec swipes the napkin and stuffs it into his pocket.

It’s almost unconsciously done and there’s no care in the placement. The napkin is crumpled, balled up and crinkled in his pants pocket and he mostly forgets about it.

When he does his laundry at the end of the week, though, he still doesn’t throw it out. He walks to the trash can and his hand hovers over the bag for a minute, for two, until he sighs in exasperation at his own idiot self and tosses it, still crumpled with the ink smudging at the edges, into his takeout drawer.

There’s a man and it’s probably nothing. Given a little time, a gentle nudge the next time Alec’s too tired to make dinner and ransacks his kitchen for his Chinese takeout only to push the napkin away in frustration and exhaustion, a soft meeting of the eyes across the cafe on another night, weeks later, when Alec’s so tired he could cry and Magnus is sipping another cup of tea and working on a crossword puzzle with a quill pen, of all things.

He might be onto something, though, Alec wonders as he finds that message months later after a dozen incidental meetings where Magnus never pushes but Alec feels moved, different, all the same.

In the deepest corners of his mind, the hidden pockets of his heart, Alec hopes it’s something, anything.

To his surprise and delight and mild terror, it turns into everything.

#my writing #to an inauspicious start #malec fic

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

Text

High Expectations - Ch8

First attempt at the chonky one - have a young Virgil. He only appears over the phone in this chapter but I’ve already drawn Jeff and Gordon so I’ve attempted Virgil this time.

Thanks to @willow-salix for her edits and pointers along the way.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Eight

Gordon couldn’t even remember what the catalyst for the tongue-lashing had been this time, there were so many lately and they all seemed to blur together in the end. It felt like continuous needling; every time they talked it was just another chance for Jeff to nag at him to choose a suitable career route, just as long as it fitted his view of what he considered suitable and that definitely didn't include professional athlete. The latest lecture had come with an ultimatum; he could either get a job, start a Tracy Industries internship or join a college programme in the spring intake. If he didn’t then his allowance would be cut off.

It didn’t feel like much of a choice. All he really wanted to do was swim but for that he needed money. Any bridges between himself and potential sponsors had been burned when he didn’t take up their offers straight after the Olympics; opportunities were few and far between and without some sort of financial backing Gordon knew he wouldn’t have the means to survive for long. Without his allowance to bankroll his continued training he may as well hang up his towel permanently.

He definitely couldn't stand the thought of starting an internship where he'd be forever under the watchful eye of his father, living in the same house was bad enough at the moment. He knew he didn't have the same business acumen as his father or the book smarts of his older brothers; he'd never be able to hold his own within the business and he could already imagine the whispers that would follow him around the office, judging him as just another rich son living off his family name who didn't deserve the job. He knew himself better than that. Being locked up in an office for upwards of 10 hours a day with no chance to work off his excess of physical energy with exercise, he'd explode. Something would snap, probably his sanity.

As for continuing down the education route Virgil had been a good sounding board about further studies but college still didn’t feel like the right place for him. If worst came to the worst he would find a course somewhere, maybe studying ecology or marine biology wouldn't be so bad. The idea of moving out and setting up in his own little apartment like Virgil and John had and having the freedom to live outside of his father’s shadow was certainly appealing. He knew though that when it came to school he would always be compared to his siblings, his father always managed to shoehorn in a remark about just how well his brothers were doing. Although conversation was perhaps a generous description of the one-sided lectures that seemed to occur whenever Gordon and Jeff were in the same room together for any length of time. No, school would be a last resort rather than his first choice.

Yet again it was his father’s way or the highway.

The grip on his temper wavered as he left the study and by the time he reached the sanctuary of his bedroom his frustration had risen up enough for the door to be closed behind him with a slam. It didn’t make him feel any better. Once again he had tried to talk to his Dad, to explore the option of maybe taking even just one year out to focus on his sport; plenty of people took a gap year after all. Once again it had turned into another lecture about finding something useful to do with his life. It had taken all his iron willed control, learned the hard way from years of harsh words and tough love from his coaches, not to bite back.

Before he had even registered what he was doing the application pack for WASP was out of its hiding place at the back of a drawer and in his hand. He smoothed out the worst of the creases and stared at the words; World Aquanaut Security Patrol. He hadn’t given it much thought since his visit to Denver but now the idea was filling his brain with a buzzing reminiscent of the insect in the emblem. The forms signified an opportunity to live an independent life away from the control of his father and out of the shadows of his brothers.

Scanning over the questions on the forms he spotted one major problem; you couldn’t join the submarine service as a minor and he wouldn’t turn 18 until February, however, you could attend junior ranks selection aged 17 as long as you had parental permission. Permission he was unwilling to seek. He had no reason to suppose that his father would refuse, after all the military was an accepted path for a Tracy, but his judgement was clouded by anger and resentment. One trait he shared with his father was independence, if he could complete something without relying on others he would. He had resolved to choose his own way and he was not willing to ask his father for anything, not even a signature.

Gordon took a steadying breath, scrawled ‘J. Tracy’ onto the bottom line, and stuffed the forms into an envelope.

There was no going back now, he'd done it, he'd made a decision for himself, and it felt amazing. This could be the start of the rest of his life. A life away from the father that would never, or perhaps could never understand him. Endless possibilities stretched away before him and Gordon found himself glowing inside, fuelled by his secret and the opportunities it offered.

xoxoxox

Within a few days he had a response in his hand. The pack in the mailbox was reassuringly thick but he still opened it with some trepidation, his breath held; if it was outside the realm of swimming he always found himself braced for disappointment. He needn't have worried though, his aptitude test results and high school certificates had been more than sufficient to get him over the first hurdle. His initial application had been accepted and the pack contained details of a selection course he was expected to attend.

Despite the initial anger behind his application having burned out Gordon was not one to back down on a challenge. He held the proof right there in his hands, he was wanted; someone had seen his potential and it felt great. He could just imagine the look on his father’s face when he announced that he no longer needed his help and was heading off to pilot submarines instead. Of course he wouldn’t dare go so far as to actually tell his father exactly where he could stick that TI internship but it was fun to imagine.

The next stage in the journey though wouldn’t be so fun. The selection course was happening in the far north of the state and took place over several days. It wasn’t something he could just pop out to while Jeff was at work. He wasn’t beyond a bit of deception by omission but he had never been comfortable with outright lying, honesty was yet another Tracy trait that was etched into his DNA. Unfortunately he could see no other way to gain a cover story. The fact that he had to drag the brother into it who had been nothing but supportive recently made it all the more painful.

He picked up the phone and prepared to put the next phase of his plan into action.

“Hey Virg.”

“Hey yourself. Now what are you after?”

“I resent that. I don’t only call you when I want something. Can’t one brother call another for a friendly chat.”

“They can, but you’ve got that look you always get before you ask a favour.”

“I do not have a look.”

“You so do. Now spit it out, I’ve got class soon.”

The chestnut gaze appraising Gordon from the call screen was holding back the twinkle of a laugh. It was true that Gordon was a fairly open book to him and he couldn’t resist teasing just a little bit. He had a knack for reading the moods of his brothers, even those that were an enigma to others in the family. Call it creative intuition. Also, any chats were reserved for the evenings when each of them had finished with class and training so a morning call in itself was a good indication that Gordon had a pressing question.

“Fine, can I come up and stay with you again for a few days?”

“Sure, you know you’re always welcome here. Feeling the need to escape the old man again?”

Gordon nodded. He hated lying to Virgil but he needed an excuse to leave town. He rechecked the dates on the sheaf of papers, his selection course details, carefully kept out of the field of vision of the camera and made arrangements for a trip to Denver.

That evening Gordon approached the study and knocked on the door with more confidence than he felt inside. He heard the shuffling of files being closed and by the time he was granted permission to enter the desk was empty and Jeff’s screen was blank.

Jeff couldn’t deny that he was annoyed at the intrusion, it felt like his conversations with Gordon were going round in a never ending loop and he could ill afford the time to deal with yet another futile argument. However, it was unusual for Gordon to actively seek him out so he cleared his desk and bade him enter.

“Yes, Gordon? What is it?” He turned steely eyes on his son, expecting to be presented with a request for new equipment or notification of another competition.

“I’d like to go back to Denver for a few days please. Would you mind booking the flights?”

“Denver?” the request was not one he had anticipated. “Is Virgil ok with you visiting?”

Gordon nodded. “Here are the dates, I’ve already checked and Virg is happy for me to stay. As long as you're ok with it, that is.” He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket with the flight details on and placed it on the desk.

Jeff picked it up and studied the slip of paper in silence. Part of him wanted to insist on something in return but for once there was nothing unreasonable in Gordon’s request and he was having to learn that his fourth son needed handling differently to the others. Despite the small age gap between them Gordon was most definitely not John who viewed the word through the eyes of a scientist and would happily counterbalance an action with an appropriate reaction. If anything having Gordon out of the way for a few days would do him and favour and allow him to move his project forward. It wouldn’t be long before the school term started again signalling Alan's return from summer camp and Jeff’s obligations tied him firmly to LA. He mentally rearranged his diary, oblivious to the growing impatience of the teen in front of him.

“So, can I go?” Gordon couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Sure, if Virgil is sure it won’t disrupt his studies.”

“It won’t, I did check and he’s honestly fine with me being there,” Gordon played his trump card “University of Denver has an open day scheduled for then.” It wasn’t a lie, Gordon reflected, there really was an open day he just had no intention of going to it.

“Fine, leave it with me. I’ll book the flights for you.”

He dismissed Gordon and took a moment to pause. If nothing else the burgeoning friendship between his second and fourth sons was to be encouraged. Virgil was a steady and calming influence and Gordon always seemed less abrasive after talking to the quiet engineer. He had been finding Gordon an increasing trial on his patience, his attempts to steer him towards a suitable future seemed to be falling on deaf ears. His suggestions were usually met with stony silence but on occasion tempers could flare on both sides of the table. The latest incident had resulted in him threatening to remove Gordon’s allowance; he wasn’t proud of his actions but he was prepared to follow through if necessary. He hoped this trip marked a turning point for them. A sign that Gordon was finally taking responsibility and giving his future options some serious thought.

xoxoxox

Gordon got out of the car at the airport drop off point and waited politely for the driver to hand him his kit bag from the trunk. For once his father’s predictability in sending him in one of the company vehicles made his plan that little bit easier to pull off. He thanked the driver then watched the car pull away before turning and entering the terminal building.

Rather than heading to the counters to check in he headed to the airline information desk.

“How can I help you, sir?"

Gordon swallowed slightly then flashed a confident smile. If there were no available seats this would be the point where his plan fell apart.

“I’d like to change the destination on my ticket please.”

“Certainly; as long as the new flight has availability. You will also be liable for any difference in ticket price and an administration fee. Now, what are the details of the journey?”

Gordon handed across the details of the flights he wanted and waited nervously while the ticket agent called up the information. Ten minutes and fifty dollars later and the tickets for Denver had been replaced with new ones for Marineville.

Grabbing a juice from a nearby cafe he settled down to wait for his call for boarding. He knew he ought to call Virgil but every time he pulled out his phone a wave of guilt washed over him. He took another sip of juice to settle his stomach. Eventually though he couldn’t put it off any longer, the flight for Denver would be departing soon and he knew time was running out if he was to make this convincing. He didn’t want to lie to Virgil but neither could he let him in on the plan, his brother's morals would gnaw away at him and likely have him spilling everything to their father. Much better not to be reliant on others to keep his secrets. He found a quiet corner and made sure he kept the video screen off before spinning a tale that he was grounded and no longer able to make the trip.

To his immense relief Virgil bought the story without too many questions. He had to firmly turn down his brother’s offer to intercede, typical Virgil trying to be defender of the wounded. Gordon made his brother give a firm promise not to get involved before closing the call.

As far as Virgil was concerned he was still in LA while his father believed he was in Denver, Gordon was therefore free for a few days. As the final call for boarding rang out across the tannoy system he headed for the gate and the flight that would take him up the coast towards the chance at a new future.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #my art #high expectations #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Virgil Tracy

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orihara-infobroker · 4 years

Text

Seclusion Day Seven

This was the fourth of Mikiya’s daily conference calls and the executives had all given up on formality - some more than others. Izaya had curled up on Shiki’s lap as they sat on the couch, laptop resting on the coffee table. Aozaki appeared to be sitting in his hot tub and Izaya was theorizing on whether or not the laptop would end up in the hot tub with him at some point. Akabayashi looked like he just woke up and finger-combed his hair into place. A half-drunk glass of what Shiki suspected was whiskey sat just in view of the camera. No one knew what Kazamoto looked like since he continued to keep his camera off but Shiki felt it safe to assume the lizard was probably just as casual as the rest of them. And the leader of this conference call? Well, he was currently helping Akane with... something?

“Hey, Akabaka, it’s a bit unprofessional to be drinking at work, don’t you think?” Izaya teased, leaning forward a bit to stare pointedly at the glass. Akabayashi pushed it out of the frame, giving Izaya a one-eyed glare.

“I don’t think sitting on your boss’s lap is particularly professional, Izaya. Neither is taking a bloody bath.” He grumbled, gaze shifting to Aozaki. The larger man shrugged.

“Just imagine we’re having a friendly chat at the onsen,” Aozaki responded with a grin. “Oh wait… you don’t have a hot tub cause you live in a fucking shit apartment.”

Akabayashi just rolled his eye and took a sip of his drink. “Not like these friendly little chats actually serve a purpose.”

“On that, I can agree with you,” Shiki replied. “So why don’t we run the agenda before Mikiya gets back then we can just give him the details and get back to work?”

Izaya leaned back, glancing at his phone. “Well I got Akabayashi’s list and it seems most of the girls are fine to work from home if we can get them the equipment they need. I sourced for various levels, depending on whether they just want to do phone calls or full video. Just a matter of order and delivery. Most of the girls are young so they should be able to set things up without too much trouble on their own.”

“I’ll review the numbers and give Mikiya the options I think are the best match for each girl,” Aka replied with a nod.

“I’d like to discuss the suspension of lease payments,” Kazamoto spoke up. “I know Mikiya won’t like it but I think we need to consider some leniency in the matter. Not for any of our corporate tower holdings, mind you. Just for the smaller businesses, especially the buildings that have restaurants or small retail. We have the overhead to cover it and I think it’s a better choice than evicting those businesses right now.”

Shiki exchanged a glance with Izaya then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Evicting them at this point wouldn’t help us anyway. There are no businesses to take their places. Aozaki, how are your men handling their new jobs?”

“They’re just happy to be doing something and the people they’re helping have been really grateful. One of the older ladies has been hand sewing masks since there’s a shortage and she’s making sure all our boys get one since we’ve been taking them over to the medical centers for her. I sent a few guys down to the food bank to help them with making up and delivering boxes. Seems demand is up with so many layoffs.”

Shiki nodded thoughtfully. “Kaz, send me a list of restaurants we have leases with. I have an idea.”

Izaya glanced at Shiki with curiosity. “Are you-” He began but then Mikiya reappeared, giving everyone a good look at his flannel pyjama pants as he sat back down.

“Sorry about that. Akane’s gotta do her schoolwork from home now, over the computer or some shit so I gotta cut this short.”

“Mikiya! Language!” Mikiya’s wife could be heard in the background, drawing amused grins from Akabayashi and Izaya.

“It’s no problem, sir,” Shiki replied. “We’ve already discussed the current projects and everything is progressing as planned. We will forward you the reports to review.”

“Ah… very good. I’ll look them over and we can discuss them tomorrow.”

As the executives logged off, Izaya gave Shiki a considering look. “You’re thinking of trading that free rent for service.”

Shiki gave the very perceptive raven an approving smile. “They need a way to keep employing their people. If we subsidize their rent during this mess, they can continue to pay their staff. If their staff are also cooking meals for those in need, they can write it off as charity and those people will remember. They’ll come back when times are better. Benefits everyone in the long run.”

“But do you think they’ll agree? And more importantly, do you think Mikiya will agree?”

“Yes. I have no doubt the restaurants will agree because it keeps them in business when they might otherwise have to shut down. Mikiya… I’m confident I can sell it to him but if he does prove difficult, I know I can sell it to Dougen.”

Izaya chuckled. “If they gave out yakuza awards, you’d get Cleverest Executive.” He teased then grew serious. “I wouldn’t normally say this…” His gaze shifted back to the laptop. “I’m a bit worried about Akabaka.”

Shiki studied the raven quietly for a moment before answering. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. But yeah, I’m worried too. Invite him over, tell him you need help with something for work, whatever works to get him out of his house. I have a suspicion he’s been drinking himself stupid.”

“Because that’s what you’d be doing if I wasn’t here to keep you entertained?”

Shiki snorted. “Unlikely. Akabayashi’s an extrovert and he really doesn’t have anyone outside the clan as I understand it. This is probably hitting him a lot harder than the rest of us.”

“Make cookies.”

“What?”

“Remember that time I brought your cookies to the office?”

Shiki chuckled. “You’re suggesting we lure him over with the offer of cookies?”

“Well, maybe dinner and cookies? I doubt he’s had a decent meal since this whole thing started.”

“Fine, if you think that’ll work.”

Some hours later Akabayashi arrived bearing files Izaya had requested as an excuse, still looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. Izaya gazed at him critically.

“Have you even showered in the last week?” He asked as he let the redhead into the apartment. Akabayashi narrowed his eyes then pushed the files into Izaya’s hands.

“Of course I have.” He retorted and his words slurred a bit. Izaya arched a brow as he took the files.

“You know drinking alcohol won’t kill the virus, right?”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you criticize me, Orihara,” Akabayashi sneered.

“Sit down, Mizuki,” Shiki ordered. “Dinner is almost ready.” Akabayashi arched a brow at Shiki then discarded shoes and coat in the entry and made his way to the seldom-used kitchen table. Shiki had pulled it away from the wall since the breakfast bar only had two seats. Izaya followed behind, dropping the files on the coffee table beside his laptop before joining Shiki in the kitchen. “Have you been talking to the girls? How are they doing?”

Akabayashi gave Shiki a suspicious look. “They’ve been supporting each other. Most of them have roommates or family to stay with so they aren’t in a bad way.”

“That’s good. What about you?”

“What about me?” Akabayashi replied with irritation as Izaya placed a bowl of salad on the table. The raven sat down across from him, grinning.

“We’re going to watch the Marvel movies in order. Shiki’s never seen any of them.” Izaya informed Akabayashi, shaking his head in disappointment. “You should watch with us.”

Shiki brought over a hot casserole dish of lasagna. “He says this as if everyone watches comic book movies.”

Akabayashi looked between the two then sighed. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Feeding you dinner and inviting you to watch movies with us?” Izaya replied with an innocent smile. Akabayashi rolled his eyes and reached for the serving spoon, helping himself to a generous portion of lasagna.

“You promised me cookies, Izaya.” He pointed out with a smirk.

“After dinner.” Shiki went to the fridge for beers.

Akabayashi grinned. “He’s really never seen any of them?” Izaya nodded as he filled his own plate. “There’s what, twenty of them? That’s gonna take a while to get through.”

“Well, if we watch a couple of them every few days, we should be able to get through all of them by the time this quarantine passes.”

“Every few days, hm?” Akabayashi took a bite of the lasagna as Shiki joined them. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen all of them either.”

Izaya grinned. “You? The hippest of the executives? Unbelievable! You absolutely have to join us now. Your reputation depends on it.”

“Not like I have anything else to do, anyway.”

“And with you around, Shiki can stop using the excuse that there’s no one to eat his baking,” Izaya added, turning his grin on Shiki.

Shiki cracked a smile. “I do have a few dessert recipes I’ve been wanting to try out.”

#durarara #fanfiction #shikizaya #have a house guest #quarantine movie marathon #my wiriting

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fcarher · 4 years

Text

A DEEP-DIVE INTO YUNA’S HISTORY WITH NEGATIVE EMOTIONS

yuna has a hard time with positive emotions; they do not feel as natural as negative ones, that’s why you’ll often see her not responding to positivity, apart from compliments regarding her looks. she knows what she is & what she isn’t & is set on these beliefs, thus sees statements like “you’re so nice.”, “thank you for helping me. “ & more as blatant mockery. she can’t seem to grasp why SUDDENLY people were nice to her; she sees herself as a strong & capable fighter, not a friend, lover or wife. she sees herself as a calculated woman; not one that would get out of their way to help somebody. but why is that so ? what brought her to think that way ? there are a lot of instances that have solidified these beliefs but significant events, the origins of such thinking, have been FOUR in total. ( this is VERY long but i’d really love it for you guys to just skim through everything, at last. under the read more, you’ll find four stories/events within yuna’s past. )

HER FAMILY

i think i have already established the fact that yuna’s father was far from a good parent & while her biological mother never had a real moment within her life, there are other people, seen as family, who have made her life even harder. for once, she had an elder biological sister who was born 4 years before her. her name was myra & she was the opposite of her sister; she was very polite towards her elders, cooked well & cleaned the house, could sew any garment one desired; a perfect wife through the eyes of the villagers; a desired woman. & yet, it was always yuna who was talked about; even if it was negative attention; she got it. myra got nothing. & of course, there was more that let jealousy poison her completely; yunaeisha’s looks. she was beautiful, so beautiful that everyone, even if they didn’t like her & wanted her gone, still admired her for her appearance.

next to her; she felt overshadowed. yuna’s eyes were a beautiful warm brown whilst hers were dark, almost black; her hair was unruly, dry & an ashen brown whilst yuna’s was black, yet sparkled within the sun as if each strand was infused with diamonds. it was always yuna who would take the spotlight; be it people commenting on her long silken hair or how bad she behaved; no one had time to spare for myra. & over the years, as both of them got older, myra let her frustration become aggression towards her sister, who was seemingly indifferent to everything; she cut her hair, stabbed her skin, so it would become scarred & not as beautiful anymore; punched her face, so it would become deformed; ANYTHING would she do, so that her sister, for once, would not be the sister everyone talked about it. but nothing worked; everything healed perfectly & yuna didn’t seem to care. & when myra noticed; she became even angrier; more aggressive. she talked her down; everytime yuna would smile or laugh, even for one second; she would belittle her, mock her laugh & expression, make her feel little. & it seemed like those WORDS hurt her more than her punches could ever. & thus, she put everything down what yuna liked;

she got a new dress ? well, she looked like a clown in it. & oh, i heard some boys talking about how much weight you gained, it sure seems like that. her favorite color was pink ? you look ridiculous. you’re not even a real girl, are you ? i mean, i saw you; you were a faceless monster. she wanted to learn more about her mother ? weren’t you the reason why she killed herself ? i wouldn’t question it if you were to cause even more suicides. nobody can be happy around you.

& while, yuna was a demon; not quite human; she was still a child, impressionable with toxicity around her. & she took everything to heart because somewhere, deep within her; there was love for myra. & that’s why she thought; yes, she was right. i am just that.

HER FIRST COMRADES

yuna doesn’t talk about this, these moments haunt her the most; sometime after leaving russia, she found herself in the middle of germany; a small village build around a river. it seemed nice, the villagers were friendly; seemingly, the world “evil” had been completely wiped out of their dictionary. well, so it seemed. the female was taken in by a nice lady, the keeper of a hotel for travelers & of course, yuna had never thought that she would stay there for more than a week or so. & soon, more travelers came to visit, all seemingly ignoring yuna while she was preparing herself to leave; she came to this village basically on bare foot with nothing else to call hers; there was no way she could have survived like this for far too long, she needed humans; their life; their energy. & there, she would meet a small group of ex-mercenaries; frank braun, ludwig aue & augusta aue. they were quite known here as it seemed; everyone loved them, gave them free food, free alcohol. yuna wanted to take part in this,too, because she knew, she was capable enough.

& as days passed; the four of them would become great friends. frank braun was a skilled archer; he could seemingly kill everything, no matter how fast they were. he had been in love with a girl called anneliese, a lady in waiting for a king in the north & his childhood friend; it was bittersweet because he knew, they could never be happy together; she was tied to the palace, he was tied to the streets. ludwig & augusta were siblings, orphans, whose parents have died when their hometown was set on fire; nobody really knew who the arsonist was, though, there had been many theories; an exiled nobleman, a widow angry at the village, a dragon or even a demon. both, brother & sister, had been trained in swordsmanship by a man, an exiled knight, while staying at the orphanage. even though, a woman was not allowed to wield a sword against another man, the knight, eren bräuer, did not care & trained them equally. yuna showcased her own abilities, though, withheld the information about her supernatural powers from them; she loved them dearly, thought of them as family & didn’t want to lose them. the reason why she thought that she could potentially lose them for not being human ? they despised everything supernatural. all of them, seemingly, had their negative experiences with demons, elves, werewolves & more. she was scared & thus, only showed her inhumane strength which all of them admired.

after a month; the three of them took yunaeisha in as their fourth member & thus, traveled further south, leaving the small village behind them. frank trained her in archery & soon, the female developed her own technique & style when it came to shooting arrows. the female even began experimenting with knives & took a liking to throw them even more; it fascinated frank & he asked her to train him as well. augusta & ludwig also practiced with yuna, giving her swordsmanship capabilities the finishing touches to perfect them. within a few months; all of them became better versions of themselves in terms of power & skill.

however, the peace, the laughter, the happiness; it shouldn’t last for so long. after a year of traveling, the small group were tasked with a mission that seemed like any other mission; nothing out of the ordinary. the jewelry of a young maiden was stolen by a middle-aged woman. & through a very detailed description of the criminal; she was easy to be found. nevertheless; there was a certain uneasiness within yuna as they approached her hunched over form within the middle of a clearing; augusta & ludwig were to accompany her while frank hid within the trees to eliminate her from a distance if needed. with each step the female took; she saw the forest in flames; corpses of her friend laying to her feet; her hand bloody; a vision ? it was a trap ! but it was too late for her to react; the sky above them darkened & within seconds had the middle-aged woman changed her appearance to a tall young woman with black hair, chopped off irregularly. a eye-patch; a familiar scent; no. the surprise had been on both sides. it was darrsha.

malicious intent turned to surprise & then, at least for the large woman, happiness. yuna’s companions didn’t understand anything; this demon was happy ? the brute took a step towards the back as darrsha approached her; augusta & ludwig were both ready to attack but the demon ignored them; she rather run towards their newest member & gave her a hug ?

how wundervoll, yuna ! you’ve lured these hunters right into my trap. but she didn’t, did she ? something told her that this whole mission seemed wrong but she didn’t tell anyone. but what does this mean, yuna ? are you a traitor ? are you a demon ? she is my sister. a demon. a traitor.

& then; a bloodbath ensued. she had to fight against her own kin; fight against her friends; against her family ? within the last seconds of the fight; she stood before a decision; who would you kill ? your sister ? your loved ones ? your family ? they were all the same; she couldn’t. & thus, her sister did it. she killed both augusta & ludwig only inches before her.

to this day, she can still feel it on her skin; the warm blood that splattered onto her face; the hatred within their eyes; the sadness; everything. you have gotten weak, yuna. never will i have to see you like this again; strengthen your heart, don’t become weak for these humans.

were these her words or those of her sister ? she doesn’t remember. she hopes frank escaped safely. she isn’t sure. but she hopes.

THE VALLEY OF THE GODDESS

some years after the events within south-germany; yuna was once again alone. she left for greece this time; a beautiful country as it seemed. however, before doing so, she changed her appearance; a tall, slender figure with tanned skin; big ocean eyes & long, blonde curly hair that would reach her calves. everything of her former identity was erased; she could start life anew. however, her preparations would not suffice; she was still yunaeisha adynora, brood of lilith even with a new appearance.

this time, she would avoid any sort of contact with humans. she settled down in a valley where the sun never set; the moon engulfed this place with so much light that it seemed like the sun. it was beautiful; not one human hand had ever touched these parts of the land. she became one with the plants, the flowers, the trees; she studied them, learned from them, gave & took. the animals were not afraid of her; as time passed, they became her companions; they crowded her whenever she was awake, loving her warmth. deers would rest with her; birds would sit upon arms & locks of golden hair. her clothing was reduced by a white loose dress; nothing special. & while she was happy, she also grew weak; there were no humans to feast on. the only vital energy she could harvest was from her own nightmares; it was too little. & thus, she had to visit the town nearby; she had to be careful not to get caught.

with that, every night that would come, the female escaped the valley & would visit the people while they slept. with her other-worldly looks, she would appear like a deity within their chambers; a deity that needed their sexual energy to survive. & while, yuna herself, never spoke to be a goddess, the town’s people perceived her as such; gifted with euphoria & erotic energy when they slept with her. soon; the word would spread that this town was under the blessing of a demi-goddess. they would build a small shrine to cherish yuna within her new form, claiming that she was the child of himeros (son of aphrodite, god of sexual desire) & named her PHILE ( trans. to love ). & whilst, she would never speak to them; they loved her dearly.

every night would the town relinquish in the erotic energy the “goddess” provided & sleep with their partner to sacrifice their sexual desire to phile. yunaeisha, as her other identity, would grow stronger & stronger through that. however, as the blonde woman, as every night, would wander the streets something out of the ordinary happened; the town was set on fire. a monster; a demon ! it was attacking the town; & while the woman swore to never soften for humans; she felt the urge to protect them from this monster.

this time; she didn’t knew the demon that dared to harm the people of this town; it was an amalgamation of terrified souls, having multiple human heads & yet, the body of a lion as it crawled around & set everything on fire. as she stepped forward; all the people cheered for her. she felt strong; she felt loved; she felt powerful. with ease had she created an invisible shield out of energy; summoning parts of broken houses with her telekinetic abilities, only to throw them at the monster. but as they screamed with joy; she could hear terror, pain & wailing. wait...it was coming from this monster! suddenly, she would stop her attacks, withdrawing her shield. everyone became terrified; screaming that the gods & goddesses had forsaken them. she stepped closer; on barefoot; the loose white gown trailing after her. it was scared; it was a helpless soul. & as she touched its middle; leaning her forehead against his grey skin; she could understand it.

the pain. the torture of this animal. it all seemed so familiar. tears would flow; she spoke to this being, a tortured soul but not of a human; it was a lion cursed with the souls of these humans who have tortured this poor animal to death. & for what ? the fur, the meat. it was disgusting. & as they screamed for her to kill the monster; she felt her soul rumble. she turned towards the town & screamed; it shattered everything in its path. her eyes were ridden of her blue irises; they shone like two stars. because while she posed as a demi-god, yuna forgot that, truly, she was also born from a goddess. the love for this poor creature had awakened it; her purifying powers. she hated this town; she hated the people; she hated everyone. how could they have betrayed her like that ? she could hear the thoughts they had while killing this poor soul; die ! die ! die ! die ! monster ! monster ! beast ! & she would let them feel the true power of such a beast.

& the next morning; she was awoken by the smell of smoke; she laid within her white dress, though, her hair was once again black. she was back in the valley & next to her laid a white lion. she smiled & went back to sleep.

HER FIRST LOVE

a hundred years later, perhaps even more, perhaps even less; the 1970s were a blessing, better than the 1870s, at least. no more wars to fight, as it seemed. the female decided to break free from her comfort zone & travel to another continent; asia & to be precise, japan. there, she would start working for a modeling agency. she was not crazy popular but a small celebrity, indeed; the opinions on her would differ into both extremes; some would love her & die for her & some hated her so much that they wanted her to die. however, the female didn’t care so much about that, she just wanted to have fun.

on a cold day within july; a bad omen; her life would change. she was asked to model for a campaign that would promote the MMA fighters of japan; at first, yuna didn’t like the idea & turned it down. however, later agreed on it as the money she would get was raised. also, she found all of the males she would pose with quite attractive, therefore, it wouldn’t be such a bother. & yet, not one of them would speak to her on set; it didn’t upset her as much as she would let on to. & as everything was about to be wrapped up; the blonde one of them would walk up to her & speak with her in Japanese. yuna just looked at him quite perplexed, not understanding one word & asked in English what he was saying. oh, she wasn’t Japanese ! but your name..yuna. it’s actually yunaeisha.

he was quite embarrassed & the laughter of his mates would not aid him in any way; though, yuna found this quite cute, therefore, she would offer him a date to compensate for this little ordeal. he agreed in broken English; at least, it was understandable & quite cute.

needless to say, one date turned to a couple hundred dates. shisui takeda, 26 years of age, a heartthrob within the MMA community. who would’ve thought that such a dorky personality would every become a couple with yunaeisha ? nobody, thus, quite the outrage ensued within gossip magazines & tabloids, belittling yuna & saying that she was not good for shisui. well, the whole relationship wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for shisui’s stubbornness; quite surprising, considering that the female never thought that there was a human who could match her within that trait. whenever there was an interviewer or paparazzi asking about his girlfriend, the male would speak highly of her, talking about future plans; having a big family. & while yuna was angry about his openness; she found it endearing. he was the first person that would openly praise & flaunt her to everyone. & he understood, that her harsh remarks & her teasing; they were substituting the “i love you” he never got.

when he was in bruises, she kissed each & every one of them. when she awoke from a nightmare, he would hold her until she fell asleep again. when she told him everything; what she was, what she did; he still loved her. when he told her about his rough childhood; how his father died in a car-crash & his mother was always shunned for being the single parent for him, not wanting to marry again because she still loved his father, yuna smiled & kissed his tears away. they were happy within these five years; so happy that he wanted to propose to her, making her his forever. shisui knew that there would be another outrage, but he didn’t care. he just wanted to be with yuna.

& on the night of their five-year-anniversary; they met within a fancy restaurant. yuna would once again complain that he was not wearing a suit & his hair was slicked back; she loved his natural hair much more & he loved his biker jacket with the matching leather pants much more. & as the desert drew near; shisui started to become nervous, suddenly starting to talk about how much he loved her & how beautiful she looked. yuna was confused & asked what was wrong. however, just before he was about to get down on one knee, his eyes saw a red spot on her forehead & he jumped in front of her, knowing what that was.

blood. blood everywhere. screams. tears. pain. EVERYTHING came crashing down at once as shisui laid before her, blood pooling beneath him as his hand pushed against the wound. the bullet had entered his chest. so much blood. yuna panicked; she screamed for a doctor. she didn’t know what to do. her own blood. it didn’t work ! why ? why ? WHY ? a bullet engraved with bible phrases ? a demon hunter. yuna saw shisui’s face; it was wet. wait, was she crying ? but he only smiled. he knew what was coming. but she screamed again. she didn’t even notice how the hunter entered the restaurant; how he stared at her, pointing the gun at her. she couldn’t tear her eyes off shisui. he was everything. he was her past. he was her present. he was her future. i love you he said, coughing up blood, tears starting to form within his own eyes. he raised his arm; something sparkled between his fingers. a ring. oh no. oh no. no no no no no NO NO NO NO NO ! she felt the weight of this; he was going to die. she could feel it. it was too late & with his last breath; he asked her to marry him.

“ YOU IDIOT ! OF COURSE, I’LL MARRY YOU ! “

& he was gone; his soul, she couldn’t feel it anymore. she could only feel this rage. she was never allowed to love. the last thing she heard was the sound of the gun & the laughter of the hunter. it was all gone. you were alone again. happiness was not for you. never.

#˗ ˋ † ʟᴏʀᴇ ﹕ does it haunt you any longer; the oldest of evil !#( OKAY I SPENT 5 HOURS ON THIS OR SO )#( its so fucking long ok )#( basically four stories )#( its all sad )#( nothing positive ahashahshas )#( 3.500 words & almost 20.000 characters )#( fuck me )#( nobody is going to read this right ? yup )#ask to tag.

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sarcastic-sunshines · 4 years

Text

Just For This Moment - Part 2

Author’s Note: I just wanted to start with a thank you for all the reviews and reactions of the first part. Your reactions are what motivates me to keep writing so thank you. This will be the final part, I hope it gives you all some type of closure.

Part 1

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The market was very busy, even for a Saturday, Kisi was already over the close surroundings of the market. But she was craving roasted peppers for dinner, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her. She navigated the market space as carefully as she could, her body contorting as best as she could to fit the tight space.

She walked up to the stand that she was looking for, she smiled at the elderly woman who ran the stand before picking up a few bell peppers, holding them up and examining them. She noticed the elderly woman staring at her intensively. She picked a few more peppers before passing the bag she had picked to the woman before walking over and staring at some scotch bonnets. Kisi could not remember if she had some at home, she grabbed a bag and got some more just in case. Scotch bonnets had become her more consistent craving, despite her mother’s warning that she should be careful in how much she consumed. She passed her hand on her stomach without thinking about it.

“How far along are you?” the elderly woman asked her, Kisi turned her head to look at her, the elderly woman repeated her question while pointing at Kisi’s stomach.

“I just started my sixth month,” she said with a smile.

“I am sure you and your husband are very excited”

“We are, though he isn’t around as much as he would like to be”

“Is he a war dog?” the woman whispered

“Something like that, his job takes him abroad quite often. We never really planned to have kids, but we are making the most of it. Quite frankly, I am okay with it just being the two of us “ she held her stomach protectively.

The woman smiled before speaking, “ it will not be easy, but I pray Bast watches over your family as you embark on this new journey.” Suddenly a younger woman came up behind the woman in her stand, kissing her cheek and setting down some more vegetables.

“This is my granddaughter, she helps me from time to time. I raised her myself, my son is a war dog so he is rarely here. So I can relate to your situation dear. “ Kisi nodded, waving hello to the young girl, who was staring at Kisi very intensely.

“I know you, you used to do press conferences with the King” Kisi got nervous, she hadn’t realized she would be someone people could recognize from her brief television appearances.

She looked around hoping no one else heard what the girl said: “Yes, I worked with the health minister, so I did a few projects with the King.”

“ That is so cool, I always wondered what the royals are like”

“Well from what I remember, they were all very sweet and kind. The King especially, he made you feel like he was always at your level” Kisi caught herself reminiscing, thinking about how his touch felt, the warmth of his body over hers. “But that isn’t my life anymore, I haven’t worked there for about nine months.”

The girls nodded, seeming a little disappointed at the news. “Well, I still think it is amazing that you will be giving birth in the golden year.”

“What is the golden year?” the elderly woman asked

“It is what they are calling the year, the Wakandan heir was born.”

“That’s nice, especially since it took so long for King and Queen to conceive. May Bast bless them both.” Kisi nodded awkwardly before deciding it was time for her to leave the market.

She finally felt like she could breathe after leaving the busy market square. She was enjoying her stroll home when her kimoyo beads went off. She looked down and saw her mother was calling for what would be the fourth time today.

“Hello Mama”

“How are you doing darling? I have been trying to reach you all afternoon” she asked dramatically, Kisi rolled her eyes. Ever since she told her mother she was pregnant, she had only become more intrusive in her life. Although Kisi appreciated it during certain moments of her pregnancy, she still needed her space to sort out her life.

“I’m fine Mama, I just went to the market. It was very loud and busy there today”

“You should have told me you needed to go, I would have accompanied you, or better yet, send your younger brother to do it”

“Mama, I am fine, plus the doctor says it is healthy for me to move around, it's good for labour. Plus I am used to being alone.” Her mother got unusually quiet, Kisi knew what was coming.

“Kisi, darling, you know you don’t have to do this alone. Of course, I and the rest of the family will always be here, but if you just give us the name of this man, I am sure your father and I can talk some sense into him. You deserve better than this darling. Especially at a time like this, whoever this is, is supposed to be pampering you and going to the market for you. He needs to know what he is doing is wrong and hurtful”

Kisi was beginning to feel emotionally drained, she sat down at a nearby bus stop before speaking again.

“Mama, I don’t want to share the baby’s father, and as you said, I have you and Baba and all my siblings, I am not alone, and I am not worried. I really wish you would stop asking” her mother took another long pause.

“Okay darling, would you like me to come over, I can make peanut soup, I know you have been craving that recently” Kisi smiled at her mother’s kindness, despite her nosiness, Kisi would not be able to do any of this without her mother.

“No that’s okay, I will come over tomorrow and spend the night,” She said, finally getting back up and continuing her slow walk back to her home.

“Alright darling, I will talk to you later then”

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

Her aching feet could barely take any more, Kisi was ready to just lay on her porch if it meant not standing anymore. Despite her best attempts to deny it, pregnancy had begun to take a toll on her body. The little walks to the marketplace were beginning to be too much for her. She finally got her keys from the bottom of her bag, when she noticed Madame Yemi staring at her pregnant form surprisingly. She waved hello to the neighbour she had tried her best to avoid. Kisi knew the judgemental types when she saw them, especially considering Madame Yemi had been sharing unsolicited details about her life with her mother.

Kisi finally got the door open and ran to the kitchen to place her groceries. She couldn’t find the strength to put them away, so she left the bag on the counter and collapsed on the couch, promising herself she only needed 30 minutes. From her peripheral view, she spotted a pair of sandals that were not hers but knew too well. She sat up slightly, listening to the other person in her home. She finally heard his footsteps coming towards her, Her heart was beating so quickly, she hadn’t seen him in two months, not that he hadn’t tried, but Kisi wasn’t sure if the relationship could really give her what she wanted.

“Hello love, how are you” he smiled softly, she didn’t respond, instead he sat down and placed her feet on his lap, he picked up one foot slowly kneading away on the pressure from the day. Kisi was struggling with keeping herself from moaning. Instead, she thought about how she never took her keys from him, a large part of her didn’t want to, she knew it was wrong, but she was happy to have him appear in her life whenever he could. Plus they never really broke up, things just got more complicated.

She pushed her thoughts to the side, as she stared at his face. “Don’ t you have diapers to change?” her tone was cold, he didn’t like it, and the instant frown on his face made it apparent.

He knew it had been hard for her, but none of this had been easy for him. Things had gotten even more complicated when Nakia finally became pregnant. He loved his son, and he wouldn’t change that for the world, but his birth had just brought unnecessary bickering between him and Nakia. It didn’t help that Kisi had finally chosen to end things, she didn’t feel comfortable continuing their relationship when a child was involved.

That didn’t stop his heart from guiding him to her doorstep every few weeks. So when Kisi said she was pregnant, he hadn’t been surprised, he was happy if anything. He was more shocked at how quickly she shut him out. But he didn’t blame her, it wasn’t fair to her or Nakia, and although Kisi had made the choice for them, he wasn’t sure he could continue to play pretend with Nakia any longer, and he knew Nakia knew as well.

“How have you been? And the baby?” Kisi swiped her feet from his lap and sat up straight

“We are good as we can be” her response was still so cold “You can’t keep showing up like this, you have to go back to your life”

“Kisi you are my life” she shook her head, trying to keep the tears at bay, though it was no use.

“No, I’m not, were not. How am I apart of your life when I would destroy the peace of the life you have already created? I am literally hiding in the shadows, I can’t even tell my mother about you. This is not how I thought my life would be” a small sob slipped from her lips. “ But that’s fine because I will adapt, but I can’t if you keep showing up here.”

He was ashamed at how complicated he had made everything. She had tried to leave many times, but his own selfishness wouldn’t allow it. How could he, when that meant saying goodbye to his soulmate?

“Kisi, I promise you I will sort this out, you are not a secret, and you do not have to be much longer. You do not have to do this alone” he took her hand in his, kissing before holding it to his cheek. Her sobs had slowed down.

She turned to look at him, it was so easy to get lost in his eyes, how many times she had promised herself it would be the last time she would get to see his brown orbs, only for her to find him in her bed once again. She had been excited with the thought of their child growing inside her. No matter the circumstances, she would know that their baby was made from love, and no one could take that from her.

“We have to make the right choices now, it’s not just us anymore love” she finally spoke slowly. He nodded, he took her chin in his hands and turned her head to face him.

“I will make things right, I promise you it will not always be like this” she let herself be fooled by his words once again. Whether true or not, she wanted to pretend that just for this moment, everything would actually be alright.

“Can I hold you?” he asked softly. Kisi knew she should say no, but between her hormones and the rush of emotions of his presence, she allowed herself to be nestled into his arms. She wanted to keep pretending none of their problems existed. It was just them and the little family they were growing.

She knew he wanted to believe that too, she felt it with how close he held her, as though if he let go, the charade would be over. So she played along with him, she took his hand and placed it over her stomach, where their daughter was kicking. Her little foot met the palm of his hand, she turned to look at him, and she was sure she had never seen him smile so big. She let the image of his smile erase all her worries because just for this moment, he was all hers. That is all she truly wanted, and she would pretend that was her reality for as long as he would play along with her.

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@writingmarvellousimagines @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @chaneajoyyy @fd-writes @twistedcharismaaa @thadelightfulone @raysunshine78

#OC #sarcasticsunshine #sunshinewrites #part 2

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years

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Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Beth!

You have been accepted for the role of EMMELINE VANCE with the requested age change! We really loved reading your portrayal for Emmeline! We especially enjoyed the details you brought in about her family and upbringing, along with the fact that healing doesn’t always equal warm, gentle, and empathetic. We love having you on the dash already and are excited to see you bring this introspective healer to life!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Beth

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE: CST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I feel like I’m literally always around on Discord right now, even if I’m not on the dash. I’ve been trying to do replies at least every other day currently. Given the current COVID situation and summer upcoming, my activity probably won’t change until mid-August.

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Emmeline Vance

AGE: 25

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Emmeline is a ciswoman who uses She/Her pronouns. If she were bold enough to use a label, bisexual would probably fit best, but Emmeline isn’t particularly open about her sexuality and desires. She’s always had more important things to focus on and didn’t really find dating worth the fuss. She’s had a few partners here and there, usually men, but Emmeline has never been in what she considers a serious relationship.

BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: I wrote her age up there as 25 instead of 27 because with all the characters right at the same age, I kind of like the idea of her being just under that, of being familiar with them from school but not actually in that group. This isn’t a sticking point or anything, and I don’t have a problem with her still being 27.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Emmeline, a mind so fine, never really expected to shine. Cheesy rhyme? Perhaps. One that would annoy her? Oh, definitely. Emmeline is a person of practicality as often as is possible. Learning new things brings her great joy, but it’s as much about how that information can be used as anything else. Most of the time, Emmeline keeps information to herself. She’d rather be sure than spread false information, and when rumors at the subject of conversation, she’d rather leave things to be spread for themselves.

She has always had a deep fascination with understanding how things work, and sometimes that has meant taking them apart to put them back together. That problem-solving occasionally takes on a singular focus, which didn’t always make Emmeline popular among her peers going up. Given the right situation, she can be a bit intense. A lifetime of trying to monitor that intensity often has Emmeline defaulting to her second instinct: silence. It’s easier to wait and see what others bring to a situation. It’s easier to understand their perspectives, information, and biases when she doesn’t cloud it with her own first. Sometimes Emmeline will then engage in conversation, but if she senses a potential argument that she can’t win anyway, Emmeline often won’t try. She’ll leave it at that, whatever it is.

Still, as much as she pretends to be able to understand the situation as a whole, Emmeline knows she has shortcomings. She often fails to realize how infrequently the whole picture is considered. That’s not to say she’s more objective than most people. She isn’t. She’s just more likely to dig until she thinks she has the most complete story possible. Then she’ll dig a little more just to be sure. It means she has a lot of useless information, but it also means she’s not likely to argue back when someone is wrong when Emmeline doesn’t for sure know if her conclusions are correct. Instead she sits there quietly and just knows the other person is wrong.

Most people seem to expect healers to be especially empathetic. Emmeline is not. She does try. She tries to put herself in other people’s perspectives, but she’s much better doing that from a knowledge perspective than from an emotional one. “If I didn’t know why my skin was blue and steaming, I would also react negatively to someone else not knowing the cause,” instead of a more empathetic viewpoint like, “They are afraid because they don’t understand what’s going on.” She needs a bit of the concrete and the observable. Although Emmeline doesn’t externalize many of her thoughts, she struggles when other people do the same because she isn’t good at reading the emotion within the silence. At work, that’s easy enough to handle because she can ask patients how they’re feeling and coworkers for more information. With the Order, that’s a little more challenging, especially if it’s a conversation Emmeline isn’t technically in, just present for. They seem to happen often. After all, Emmeline is so easy to overlook.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Life isn’t easy in the magical world with a surname that hasn’t been around for the last hundred years or so. Margaret Baxter knew that better than anyone as the child of two muggleborns, but she certainly didn’t do any climbing by marrying a muggle named Allan Vance. She practically lived like a muggle too. It wasn’t until her daughter Emmeline was seven that she fully understood that some of her horticulturist mother’s prettiest and most exciting plants weren’t ones her classmates knew. Nor could any of their mother’s produce a couple drops of dittany to heal scrapes and bruises before giving the ever important kiss to finish making it better. Emmeline grew up in an almost entirely muggle household with little bits of magic that Maggie couldn’t live without. Emmeline had to learn early on which were which, and she needed to know which things couldn’t be mentioned to her friends. Her own magic was most likely to appear when she was trying to make things work. Allan walked into the room one day to find his favorite working model train floating through the air in pieces as Emmeline skipped between them, pausing every once in a while to inspect one. Maggie was able to put it back together, but under his breath, Allan would still occasionally complain that the steam puffed too realistically now.

Allan was a postal worker who believed quite firmly in the importance of hard work and dedication. Had he been a magical man, he likely would have been in Hufflepuff. While that work ethic was something Emmeline did inherit, she was always more like her mother, interested in understanding above all else. Maggie’s interests ended up in herbology. She had a gift for determining how to help plants flourish and cross-develop to create viable hybrids with helpful gifts. While Emmeline never shared her mother’s interest in plants, she embraced Maggie’s methodology toward problem-solving. It became an important step forward for Emmeline.

OCCUPATION:

Emmeline knew from fourth year on that she wanted to be a Healer.

She’d always been good at charms and transfiguration, and in her pursuit of theoretical knowledge about human transfiguration longer before she was old enough to actually do it, Emmeline stumbled upon healing textbooks in the Hogwarts library. They were all well and good, but they couldn’t tell her as much as a real teacher. She went to Madame Pomphrey initially just to have a few questions answered, but the woman knew so much about a subject Emmeline hadn’t realized went so many layers deep. Madame Pomphrey saw her spark and encouraged it, suggesting to Emmeline’s other professors side projects which might be of interest to the young Vance girl. By her seventh year, Emmeline was helping Slughorn brew a few healing potions and fetching herbs from the greenhouses whenever Madame Pomphrey asked. That gave her a head start on some of her peers when she applied for St. Mungo’s Healer Program and, when coupled with her impressive NEWT results, looked quite remarkable to her mentors. Emmeline completed the program as fast as possible, happy to be able to lend a hand and make a difference.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Emmeline learned early on that a person’s value is on what they can achieve, but the magical world is full of people who look at pedigree instead. She’s not even first generation. Not second either. She’s got two generations of magic flowing through her veins, but it’s not about the magic itself; it’s about the heritage that can be used as a weapon. Emmeline is not stranger to this weapon, and she watched it slowly grow stronger around her during her time in training as a Healer. From the first whispers of a group defying Lord Voldemort and his followers, Emmeline knew that was a group she needed to find. At first she didn’t know how, and Emmeline continued on as normal. She couldn’t sit idle forever, though, and it took a few months of listening around corners and staying quiet in the backs of rooms before she’d connected the group to Hogwarts. She didn’t know what it was called or who was involved, but if it happened at Hogwarts, Emmeline knew Albus Dumbledore had to know.

After graduation, Emmeline had continued to meet Poppy Pomphrey for tea at least once a month as they transitioned from a true student mentorship to friends. It was at one such tea that Emmeline revealed what she had learned and insisted that she needed an audience with Dumbledore about it. Poppy agreed to set it up, and less than a week later, Emmeline was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and already working to create a hospital space at the recently acquired Potter Estate. She found it a bit unsettling that such a young wix could have this kind of shelter to casually provide, but Emmeline wasn’t about to question it. James seemed sincere and wasn’t pandering to other purebloods, so Emmeline took it for what it was.

While she could do some to fight, Emmeline very rarely saw battle directly. Most of the time she paced around the Potter Estate until people started arriving back. She’d been pushed to her limits helping the Order. Emmeline was good at her job, but she hated that she had to strain so often. It wasn’t on her own account either. People shouldn’t be put at risk as often as they were. Still, they weren’t doing enough. Too many people got hurt for too little and sometimes no reward. Emmeline couldn’t stand it, especially when she suspected egos and misinformation contributed so frequently. No one ever seemed to be thorough enough when they clarified the facts, and even if they were, they shared half-truths. Emmeline has grown tired of people trying to hold things back. This is a war, and people are dying. Now is not the time to try and seem smart by keeping things to oneself.

SURVIVAL:

Emmeline’s life looks pretty standard from the outside. She lives in a small two bedroom flat and uses the second as an office and storeroom for healing supplies. She remembers to eat regularly and works her shifts at St. Mungo’s with no complaint. She checks in at the Potter Estate about every other day, even if it just means reorganizing her supply of pain potions. She hears things and she absorbs the information, and that cycle had become a bit of a sticking point in her life. Emmeline is so afraid of not being there when someone needs her that she’s allowed basically everything else in her life to slip into the background.

It was easy for her friends and family members to believe that Emmeline was just throwing herself into her work, perhaps too easy. There’s no turning back now, though. Emmeline made a choice, and it’s one she intends to see through. Some days that just means getting through to the next one. She has no idea what the future holds, and at this point, Emmeline is almost afraid of what comes after because it’s easier unimaginable horror or unknowable potential.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Emmeline is perhaps one of the people devoting the most time to the Order, and much of that is in direct service to her fellow members. One might expect that to translate to having more close confidantes in the group, but Emmeline doesn’t take it personally. She’s never been the most popular person in a room. Plus, not being the center of attention has its advantages.

One of those advantages is that she isn’t expected to respond positively if pureblood Order members mention their supremacist families. She hates hearing about it, and that’s just one more reminder that some people in the Order have more to lose than others if Lord Voldemort wins. People like Alice Longbottom have a safety net, family who would assumedly welcome them back, if there’s anything to forgive at all.

She knows that distrust doesn’t breed strong teamwork, but even the people she has no reason to mistrust don’t always leave Emmeline particularly inspired. So many of the members rush to conclusions without the proper facts to back them up, and Marlene McKinnon seems to be one of the worst. That’s not fair, Emmeline knows. She doesn’t know the witch’s full situation, but when every incorrect thing out of her mouth is said with such confidence, it’s hard not to take it personally. Marlene isn’t alone in this unfortunate attitude, but she is perhaps the one Emmeline is stuck dealing with most often. Emmeline tends to stay curt and to the point before quickly slipping away to find someone else for better assistance.

When group meetings so often don’t actually say what they’re meant to say, Emmeline grows frustrated and bored in them. Lately she’s taken to watching others in the circle at such things, and of late, she’s found a kindred soul in Peter Pettigrew. She wishes more people were like them, watching and learning instead of just assuming. She thinks meetings could run more efficiently then. The whole Order could really.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I have no specific hopes or desires for Emmeline. Romance is far from a primary motivator for her, so it would take good chemistry to start anything.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Emmeline would consider herself fairly open-minded, if only because she likes to take all the information available, find more, and then use it to come to a conclusion. She isn’t going to hop on any fearmongering broomstick over werewolves being isolated when all the research and Madame Pomphrey can tell her they’re incapable of causing any more damage than the average wix during most phases of the moon. That’s the logic that Emmeline applies to a lot of people problems.

That said, she really doesn’t have time for people who refuse to learn. The world is full of information, and one of the most important things about learning is the ability to acknowledge when your previous understanding was incorrect and move on. Emmeline’s not sure she’s ever met a pureblood who could truly do that. They loved to pretend they understand what the world is like, even when they’re talking about things they don’t understand. Most don’t know anything about the muggles they claim to be so much better than. It absolutely frustrates her because the knowledge is right there. Unlike wizards, muggles don’t try to hide what they have and pretend it’s much better. They don’t even have television for Morgana’s sake! Muggle technology and medicine could be readily available if wix just got over themselves long enough to see it.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I told myself I wasn’t going to apply for a fourth. That said, I have the time, am enjoying the writing, and felt the call for someone to round out my little collection. I don’t have anyone as level-headed as Emmeline or who manages to carry their confidence without arrogance like she does. I’m excited for the possibilities she creates.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: I do think it would be interesting down the line for someone to challenge Emmeline on something she feels passionately about. Maybe the Order could get ahold of something cursed/semi-cursed that Emmeline strongly disagrees with keeping around because the risks to themselves are higher than the potential rewards as a weapon? Perhaps there’s a building rumor or huge miscommunication that she’s heard enough (indirectly) from everyone involved, but she can’t get people to just talk to each other because they just keep assuming they know the truth when they’re missing major pieces.

ANYTHING ELSE? I love you all! You keep me inspired, clearly.

#homenumaccepted #harry potter rp #marauders rp #marauders rpg #harry potter rpg

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cg29 · 4 years

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40 Questions — Meme for Fic Writers.

Thank you to @soniabigcheese @gumnut-logic @onereyofstarlight and Anon for the ASKS you sent my way. Since I wanted to answer in detail, I’ve had more than 1 question, and I’ve not had a lot of spare time today I thought I’d answer all in this one post…

So first up @soniabigcheese sent me: ‘How about ... 9 ... 15 and 19? Please.’

9: Which fic has been the hardest to write?

All have been challenging in their own individual ways. Yet, really thinking about it I’d have to say GONE. For various reasons – It was my first Thunderbirds Fanfic, the longest story I had ever written, at this point the one I’ve had to do the most planning and research, and finally because of the emotions that needed portraying. However, the elation at finally finishing the story was amazing and has certainly inspired me to continue.

15: If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oh my God, that would be amazing! I would definitely have to go for Bad Day (Virgil’s day keeps repeating. What will it take for it to end and a new one to begin?) I had so much fun writing this, it’s one that I’ve reread a few times since competing, and it still makes me giggle. I’m sure I’d be in stitches if I got to watch it on the big screen. Although due to some of the contents towards the final chapters it would definitely need a UK PG or 12A rating.

19: Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

For Thunderbirds fanfiction my muse is definitely Virgil, The-Virg, It’s definitely his creativity and those eyes, plus that mouth, also those eyebrows, and his muscles… Sorry getting distracted – Actually, thinking about it, Virgil’s more of a distraction than a muse. Especially with my new mobile screensaver which I keep staring at.

Okay, back to the question. I don’t think I’ve got a muse – just a little voice in my head that won’t shut up when I have a story idea until I’ve written it down.

…

Next we have @gumnut-logic who asked: ‘Writer meme question thingy - 1 & 12.’

1: Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

I always seem to revert to the family dynamics rather than a full-on rescue story (which is probably why I’m struggling with two of my fics which need to have rescue bits written in) Basically, I love to go deeper into the descriptions of the physical/emotional whump, and how the family deal with the situation (hidden feelings, tempers, how they bond) during and afterwards.

12: Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Yes, for both TOS and TAG.

The original series: There’s a few – Terror In New York City (Yep, the beginning in particular) The Perils of Penelope, Sun Probe, The Uninvited, Edge Of Impact. After thinking long and hard to narrow it down I’d have to say that while Terror In New York’s my favourite. The Perils of Penelope inspired my naughty fic The Night of Anderbad (Penelope & Virgil pairing) plus the idea of Virgil having a secret crush on her in later chapters of The Tracy Family and a few other one of fics.

TAG: There are a few earlier ones which have inspired fics – Grandma Tourismo, Flame Out, Hyperspeed, SOS pt. 2, Signals pt. 1, Upside Down. There are probably others and these last few episodes have been really inspiring. However, I think I would definitely have to go for the more recent SOS Pt 1 & 2 and Signals Pt 1 & 2. (I’m sure the finale of Season 3 may change this answer)

…

Third we have @onereyofstarlight who asked: ‘2 and 37 for the ask meme.’

2: Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Yes, I would like to have a go at Were Virgil at some point. Also, would like to try doing the boys ages differently to see how the dynamics changed – Alan as the eldest, next in line is Gordon, then Scott in the middle with John then Virgil as the youngest.

37: Talk about your current wips.

Lol, I have a few so this could take a while :D

I will start with ones that I’ve posted on FF.Net & A03 (Probably also shared them here at some point.

1. Avalanche: TAG.

This story began as a prompt that suggested a story that begins and ends with the same line but the meaning/feeling of the line changes. I started it with the intention of writing just 1 chapter …hahaha… of course I ended the story on a cliff-hanger and couldn’t leave it there, so it’s been continued and I’m so glad I did because I personally feel it is nearing the top of my best written list. The story itself is set when the boys are just children and focuses on the tragedy of the Avalanche and the emotional repercussions. I’ve just reached chapter 14, and probably have another 2-4 chapters left.

2. Lucille: TAG

Synopsis - A story about the unseen woman who watches over International Rescue."I am a wife, I am a mother, and I am the one who watches over International Rescue, making sure I am there to catch them whenever they fall. My name is Lucille Tracy and this, well this is my story!"

A story told through the eyes of the boy’s mother. This is one that I keep stopping and starting, most likely because I hadn’t planned it out. It’s currently on-hold until I finish some others, but I will complete it.

3. The Games: AU - Thunderbirds Are Go mixed with the concept of the Hunger Games. (Although, only Thunderbirds characters will make an appearance)

Here’s my synopsis - Climate change, famine, war. In the end another major war lead to the richest creating the Global Defence Force and 'order' was restored. To celebrate and keep control the Hunger Games were created. This was the 100th games.

The fic started from the Whumptober Prompts and I decided to continue it, wrote half of the 2nd chapter then promptly forgot about it. I’ve recently been looking at this again and have started to reread The Hunger Games for inspiration. However, like Lucille this fic is currently on hold.

4. Virgil Drabbles: TAG.

Started out as a challenge to see how much I could get across in just 100 words. All chapters are based around the lovely Virgil - TAG (but with him being the middle child – started before the Grandma Tourismo episode and apart from a few fics where I write it the other way around I prefer it this way)

The story starts from Virgil’s birth and I’ve now got him attending Denver. I still have a fair few chapters to write but the rest is now all planned out.

5. Reflections: TOS.

Set after Virgil's crash during the Season 1 episode 4 of 'Terror in New York City.' Short reflections from each of the family on nearly losing a brother and son. (Previously Titled, Fallen Brother)

I had always wanted to write something based on my favourite TOS episode. Then Shane Rimmer passed away and this was inspired. Slow updates on this one but I’ve finished telling myself the story just need to edit/rewrite that into something coherent.

And now we’re onto the ones that I may have posted snippets for or just 1 section for on here, but nothing officially posted as yet.

1. Two Untitled Prompts: TAG.

Both prompts were given to me at the end of November and I actually wrote out both (Plotting, thoughts, and telling myself bits of the story) Then December knocked me sideways and my writing suffered. Back to working on these 2 again now and really enjoying them. Without giving to much away, the one features a heart-broken Alan and the other (which with Avalanche is at the top of my pile) features Virgil having a day from hell with added whump.

2. Two Whumptober Fics: TAG.

Posted 1 or 2 chapters for each of these back in October and decided that they could possibly be extended/completed before posting. (All short fics)

The first one is titled Coffee Shot: Virgil gets shot in a café and emotions will run high. Fully planned out but decided to finish some others before I continue working on this.

The second is currently titled Ransom and is set when the guys are children. Scott and Virgil get kidnapped – Only done some basic plotting for this and it’s currently towards the bottom of my WIP pile.

The third is untitled and at the moment my word file is saved under the imaginative title of ‘Virgil Whump’ (Posted 1 snippet that I wrote in 15 mins at the beginning of October then left it because of other projects) In this one the guys are all extremely busy with call-outs and Virgil needs to go to a rescue on his own that involves Fischler. Unfortunately he ends up getting trapped, injured, and because its Fischler left on his own. Fully planned out.

3. Working Title – Shattered Hope. TAG

A story idea that came to me over a year ago, written some short bits, planned out most of the story but because of one small element I need to wait until TAG Season 3 finishes.

Here’s a bit from it that did get shared to Tumblr…

‘How had it come to this?’

Just a short time ago they’d been happy, enjoying some rare downtime in the sun, five brothers together. It shouldn’t be like this… With him cradling one brother who was bleeding from a bullet wound after saving the youngest from certain death. The other two close-by. One with a dislocated shoulder, the other with a broken leg, he himself had a stab wound to his arm... All of them with numerous other injuries… Beaten, bloodied, bruised… And praying that someone would rescue them!

…

Fourth we have anonymous who asked for ’35, 38 and 39.’

35: Would you ever kill off a canon character?

I’ve killed poor Scott off a few times HERE ... HERE and another time as an old man where Virgil also got killed off. (The fic scarred me – But, at the same time I think it’s the best short I’ve written - It’s called White Light if you want to give it a read)

I’ve not killed any of the others yet, and I keep telling myself that I won’t do it again, but it will probably happen again at some point…

39: Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I’ve had a couple, but they are usually anonymous ones. I normally just delete them and move on because people like that have nothing better to do and are not worth any upset. But if it does affect my confidence then I’ll reread a couple of nicer comments, then when I’m ready I’ll continue writing. I think there was only one that really knocked me for six and that was an anonymous rant on my Bad Day fic because I’d dared to pair up Virgil and Brains. (I’m sure you can imagine the content)

38: Talk about a review that made your day.

Even though 38 comes before 39 I wanted to save this one for last.

Every single comment I’ve ever got. No matter how short or detailed has brought a smile to my face and helped inspire me to continue writing – If I had to single out one then it would actually be a private message that was sent to my Fanfiction.Net inbox. It was over 2 years ago and unfortunately I can’t find the message now but whoever sent it to me said that they’d loved my Fics, in particular Gone which they had read several times and that I was their favourite writer. I was beaming for weeks afterwards.

So, whoever you were thank you - and to all who comment, re-blog, like or kudos my stories. Thank you from the bottom of my heart… Seriously you all make this fandom such a lovely place to be!

All my current posted fics and their status can be found via my: Thunderbirds Fanfiction Masterlist

#40 questions #Ask Meme #send me questions #Question and Answer #Thunderbirds Are Go Fanfiction #Thunderbirds Are Go Fandom #Thunderbirds Original Series #Thunderbirds Are Go #Thunderbirds

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goodbyecringe · 4 years

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(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 5

Éponine

During the week after the Selection had been announced I probably slept for an hour or two every night. I couldn’t help but lay awake while Azelma curled her small body around me. The first thing I did after the officials left for the day was run to the Brouder’s house. We didn’t have a phone in the apartment and I needed to tell them about my plans with Azelma. When the front door opened I was immediately embraced by Mrs. Brouder.

“We are so honored that you came to visit us Éponine,” she said, inviting me inside.

“I’m so thankful for you Mrs. Brouder,” I said, sitting at the counter while she put on a tea kettle.

“Please ma chère, call me Justine. You know that I’ve wanted you to stay with us since we first hired you. You always do more than we expect of you. And you’ve been such a help with Mercer.”

“Thank you. It has been such a pleasure to work for you. You’ve always given me food which goes towards keeping ‘Zelma fed. I am indebted to you,” I said, holding out my hands to her.

“Please take on Azelma as your new housekeeper!” I blurted it out before I could control my mouth.

“Of course, chére! Victor and I see how skinny you two girls are. If your parents would let us, we would love to take care of you,” she said, squeezing my hands.

“I know, and it means the world to us. Thank you for taking care of her while I’m gone. I have one more request, but it might be more difficult than employing my sister. I want to make sure that my sister is able to eat and maybe even one day have enough saved so she can leave our parents. Would you be willing to receive a small portion of my pay and set it aside for Azelma?” My heart was beating at one hundred miles a minute. I hadn’t even been this nervous when the announcement was made on Friday night. Had it really only been 5 days ago?

“Of course. We would be honored to help Azelma in any way possible,” Mrs. Brouder broke away to prepare the tea, creating a momentary silence between the two of us.

“Have you observed your competition at all?” she asked, handing me a cup. My eyes widened. How could I have not thought of memorizing every detail I could about the other thirty-four girls.

“I-I haven’t even considered it yet,” I stammered.

But Mrs. Brouder had already thought through to the answer of her question. We moved to the living room and re-watch the Report, which is playing on repeat, no doubt so that all of Illeá could do just as we were doing, sizing up the competition. Even Mr. Brouder came in holding baby Mercer, making comments about “she won’t make it past the first day” and “she seems to appear too innocent” The whole afternoon just seemed right. Sitting in front of the television holding Mercer while he pulled at my hair. Watching Mr. and Mrs. Brouder hold each other's hands and speak in French about how much they missed Paris. I left the Brouder’s after a few hours and our goodbye almost made me cry. Mercer threw a fit as soon as I handed him back to Mr. Brouder. Mrs. Brouder, or Justine as she insisted I call her, held me in a tight embrace.

“Montre comme tu es beau,” she whispered in my ear as tears fell down her cheeks.

Show your beautiful self. I had never thought about being beautiful, in fact, I never thought much about who I was as a person. It wasn’t a luxury afforded to sixes that went to bed hungry most nights. Did people really see something in me aside from the victim of a broken home? As I walked home I thought about what we discussed while watching the Report. Mrs. Brouder insisted that I be myself while interacting with the Prince. Since he didn’t already know my caste he wouldn’t try to pity me for being a Six. Our only hope was that he wouldn't throw me out on the first day for not being proper enough. My mother could try to make sure that I looked good on paper, but there was nothing she could do about my behaviors. By the time I left the Brouder's house the sun was setting and when I returned home there was a tall man sitting at the small table in the kitchen. He introduced himself as Mr. Kent. He was a tall, lean man in a four piece suit that looked very out of place in our dirty old apartment.

“Lady Éponine, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” he nodded his head deeply, and extended his hand.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine,” I said, shaking his hand.

“I apologize for coming so close to curfew. I planned to be here earlier, but another member of the selected kept me a bit longer than expected. I’m here tonight to present the first stipend to your family and go over a few things with you,” he held out an envelope to mother, who snatched it up.

“Madame, if you would please sign here saying that you have received your stipend,” she leaned over the table in an awkward position, most likely to show off her breasts.

“Now I’ve also analyzed your physical examination and it appears that you have several underlying conditions that will need to be treated while you are residing in the castle, and after I’m sure, since you are now a Three-“ My mouth dropped open. My mother dropped the pen she was holding. I could hear Azelma choke on her drink in the living room.

“Only you, of course, Lady Éponine,” Mr. Kent said, looking at my mother’s hopeful face. “We have found that in past Selections, girls that belonged to the Fourth caste and below had a rather hard time readjusting to their lives before the Selection. Understand that if you win, you and all your family members will become Ones and you will marry the Prince. Now, following your doctor’s orders, when you arrive to the castle you will be following a slightly different diet than the other girls. Since your doctor identified you as being malnourished, your serving sizes during meals will be a bit larger then your competitors. You will also be required to attend weekly appointments with the doctor at the palace. Here is a bottle of vitamins and sleeping aids that you will be responsible for taking here and during the Selection.” Mr. Kent handed me 2 bottles of pills.

“Why are you giving me sleeping pills?”

“Well, to be honest, you do look a little worse for wear. The Selection is a highly competitive and stressful environment. It’s good to make sure you’re entering fully rested.”

“Of course, Mr. Kent,” my mother said. “Thank you for caring so deeply about my dear daughter’s health. I’ll take these to ensure that she is taking her medication as prescribed,” she said, taking the bottles out of my hands.

“Excellent. Now if you don’t mind Madame Jondrette, would you and your younger daughter please go to another room so I may discuss some private things with Lady Éponine?”

“Well I’m sure whatever you could say to dear ‘Ponine you could say with her dear mama present,” My mother wrapped her arms around me. I wondered if Mr. Kent could see in tension in my body.

“Madame, this is a private conversation that I’ve had with 29 other selected girls. It is just a part of the process,” he said, raising his eyebrows. And with a fake smile, she took her check and Azelma into her room.

“Now that it is just the two of us, I must inform you, Éponine, there has never been a Six in the Selected. You are at an extreme disadvantage, even to the Fives. At least they have some sort of talent to offer. Please don’t think that I’m discriminating, one of my cousins married a Six, and I know they’re very happy. However, if the Prince wanted to marry a servant I’m sure he would just take a trip down to the kitchens. But if there were other services you could offer him…”

“Mr. Kent, are you implying that I sleep with the Prince?” This took me aback. Pre-marital sex was illegal and punishable by either a large fine or time in prison. That was why prostitutes made so much money.

“I am implying that you do what any other woman in your position would do.. Of course, you shouldn’t just thrust yourself upon him. He would probably send you home for being too sleazy.”

“Sir, I’m sure any other Six in my position would think the same thing as you, so I don’t take offense. However, I’m sure you’ve read my application so you should know a few things about me. My parents had me for this exact reason. My mother ensured that even though I was unable to attend school, I was educated. I can speak three languages fluently, which is extremely important when interacting with foreign dignitaries. I have also read and discussed multiple books on political science, so I understand the different ways that countries have been run and whether or not these ways were successful. So you’re right, Mr. Kent, I might not be able to paint masterpieces, or use my wealthy, famous family to my advantage. But I can assure you that I’ll be able to talk to Prince Julien about more important things then the weather.” I realized now that at some point I had stood up.

“I’m glad that you have that fight in you Lady Éponine. You’ll need it,” he said, standing up to shake my hand.

“I’ll escort you out, Mr. Kent,” I opened the door and followed behind him.

“I do have a question, well more of a request,” I said, looking at my feet.

“First princess lesson, never address the ground when you’re talking,” I looked up at him in front of me.

“Would you be able to send a portion of my stipend to the Brouder family so they can put it aside for my sister? I just don’t trust my parents to manage their money properly.” He immediately began to shake his head and sigh.

“I’m sorry but the rules concerning the stipend are very strict. Of course I can tell that out of all the selected you are by far the worst off. Your doctor said you should weigh about 40 pounds more than you currently do. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do anything. Strictly speaking, I’m just a messenger to all of you.” He put his hand on my shoulder as I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

As I watched him walk out to his car I knew that I had to take matters into my own hands. My first mission during my time at the palace was to use the prince so that Azelma could be safe, even if it would cost me the crown.

#enjonine #enjolras #prince enjolras #eponine #les miserables #les amis #the selection #crossover #fanfiction #cross-posted #ao3 #joly #combeferre #courfeyrac #grantaire #modern universe

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymouse inquired forever ago: ⚥ - … My muse’s sibling

send me a symbol and i will write a drabble about my muse from the point of view of... | accepting. ➝ ⚥ - my muse’s sibling.

"She has to be lying,” Kyla repeated for the seventh time since returning from her most recent bridal appointment. Her mother had accompanied her as she had for her last three marriages -- the fourth one’s the charm, right? “There I was, standing in the most gorgeous Olga Malyarova, a limited edition I might add, and she drops a bombshell like that on me?! Can you believe it, darling?”

“And what was this bombshell,” her fianceé sighed. A good two hours in and his soon to be wife hadn’t given him the slightest detail on what had thrown her into such a mood. By the way she tore through boxes of old photos and considering the conversation had to do with her mother, he figured it had to do with her mysterious family. Kyla paused in her search and recounted in shocking detail everything that had happened during her time at the bridal salon.

“You really should think about inviting your sister,” Nessa suggested after the first two dresses were declared solid no’s. She would not suggest the girl’s father be invited as well, her husband in name only. “But she’s always so sullen, mama, do you not remember my first wedding? She sulked around the whole evening and she looked like she was about to cry in every photo. I do not need that on my special day! The attention should be on me, not my sad, lonely sister. If she wants to come, she needs a brighter attitude -- it’s no wonder she hasn’t married yet.” Kyla tossed a perfectly curled tress of hair over her shoulder, gazing at herself in the mirror. “Be nice,” her mother chided. Kyla did not miss the pill she snuck into her mouth soon after, swallowing it back with the complimentary champagne they were given. “Your sister has gone through a lot, it is hard for her to -- “ She swallowed her words as quickly as she had swallowed her pill. “She what, mama? I grew up with her, we both went through a lot. Papa was never the kind one,” there were more than a few times she received a hard slap upon her cheek for returning far past curfew. “I turned out just fine, what’s her excuse?” She was being hateful, she knew, but she wanted to manipulate her mother into speaking whatever clouded on her expression. What juicy family secrets she might’ve missed out on after leaving with her first husband. Nessa shook her head fiercely. “You do not know, Kyla, you do not know what your father was capable of.” “Oh, you mean the killing, the drugs, the guns? I was not so stupid back then, mama, I knew what papa did for a living. I knew where our money came from.” Nessa blanched. “You do not know what he did to your sister.” The whole repulsive truth came out, no matter how many little pills her mother swallowed nor how many times she pressed her lipsticked lips to the gold-rimmed champagne flute, it would not wash away the acidic taste in her mouth. Kyla gawked. She caused a scene. Demanding they leave immediately, terminating the time slot her future husband had paid handsomely for. She could not stand to be in the same room with her mother any longer, not with her lying through her teeth. The worst part was, Nessa looked like she actually believed the lies she was spewing.

“Are you so sure she was lying,” her fianceé questioned gently. Kyla found the pictures she was looking for. All faded shots from a life in Russia from various stages of childhood. Most were from before Fox was born, her mother obsessing over her first-born child. Near the bottom, though, they were all stuck together. She thumbed over one, peering at the two girls standing on a bridge overlooking the Neva.

“Of course, as depressing as Fox is now, she was always a happy kid. I don’t ever remember a time when she wasn’t laughing. I cannot believe that she would be living through what my mother has said and I would not have seen it -- she would’ve told me.” Yet, looking down at those two girls, her sister was not smiling. She moved to the next photo, no smile. Again and again and again she searched, but in every single photograph they had together, her sister was staring blankly at the camera. Even the shadow of a smile that sometimes appeared did not reach her eyes. Sad eyes. Lonely eyes. Helpless eyes.

Digging through the small pile, there was only one photo, a polaroid, that held Fox as the sole subject. Kyla had taken it herself on the day she left their family’s apartment. “Here, you see,” she exclaimed, but she did not move to show him. Instead, she stared and stared at the smile on her sister’s face. It was forced. She could almost feel the strain through the glossy surface. There were tears in her sister’s eyes and tracks down both her cheeks. It could not be true. This could not be the only evidence she had left.

“No, I remember taking her photo. I remember dressing her up, doing her makeup, we were laughing. She looked like an old film star, walking around in heels three times too big for her feet.” Those photos were missing from her collection. “I swear, I remember her happy, I remember her -- “ But she didn’t, not really.

“Our father, he was sick, he is sick,” why was she defending him? “He would not have done that,” the evidence was still in her hands. The bruises peeking out from clothes too loose for her too-thin frame. Her body language, standing just far enough away from everything and everyone that it could not touch her. Even with Kyla’s arms thrown around her, Fox seemed to shrink herself into the background, as if she did not want to be seen. As if she was ashamed.

“Mother’s memory is going, she’s been off for years -- it’s all those pills she takes.” Her mother had allegedly known and had done nothing for years. If it was true, she was just as much to blame, but it could not be true. “It cannot be true. I would’ve noticed, I would’ve seen...” Kyla thought hard to the years just before she left. There was a large gap between her and her sister, she was already blossoming into her early twenties when Fox had still not outgrown the gangliness of childhood. Fox did smile for her. She remembered her squealing with delight on their vacation to Lake Luga in the summer, she remembered her grinning around ice creams and freshly baked bread, her constant curiosity with the cosmetics that Kyla often brought home, the way her eyes glittered as she pulled out new dresses. She had chosen to remember those and to forget the others. When she had found her pulling splinters out of her knees and hadn’t thought to ask what had happened. When she had believed Fox’s doorknob excuse when her sister appeared with a black eye because she hadn’t cared enough to think otherwise. When she had watched their father twist Fox’s braid around his hand idly as she sat stock still waiting for the yank.

Kyla felt ill. It could not be true. She would not believe it could be true. The photographs were returned to their tomb and placed within the catacombs of her closet. Never again to be looked at. The damning evidence that proved her mother wasn’t lying.

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#[ thank you to whoever sent this in! ]#[ i had a lot of fun writing kyla ]#[ especially in this formative moment ]#x | i don’t blame you for being you but you can’t blame me for hating it ( kyla. )#x | i sometimes wish i stayed inside my mother never to come out ( nessa. )#x | you're too old to be this shy he says to me so i stay the night ( alexei. )#x | you are not responsible for what was done to you as a defenseless child ( memories. )#x | you're screaming and cursing and angry and hurting me then smiling and crying apologizing ( family. )#abuse tw #child abuse tw #domestic abuse tw #general tw #ptsd tw #cptsd tw #mental illness tw #[ if i've forgotten any let me know ]#[ i left some parts v ambiguous so idk if i want to necessarily tag something that might not come through??? ]#depression tw

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