#have considered voice lessons as a kind of compromise but. would STILL need to find a safe way to do it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part VII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)

It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.

It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk.

“Erwin here?”

The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”

Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”

Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead.

He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”

“What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy.

You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different.

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”

You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”

He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?”

“Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”

“You can shut it then.”

Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you.

“Why haven’t you been talking to him?”

Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!”

Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”

“And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”

Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”

You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping.

“That motherfucker,” he grunts.

“What?”

“You blocked his number.”

“What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”

Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”

“My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.

You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.

If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.

Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list.

“Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal.

“Have what?”

“Tinder.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”

That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced.

Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself.

“Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”

Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”

“Probably.”

“Might be a little difficult now, though.”

Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”

Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”

You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”

Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”

You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.

But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process.

“It, uh… It gets worse.”

Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”

Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry.

“I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”

Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling.

Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her.

“Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”

Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”

You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest.

There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him.

“Come on.”

“W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”

“I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."

You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person.

“Fine, but put a shirt on.”

“Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.

You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand.

“We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze.

It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.

Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous.

He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy.

"Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand.

"Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."

You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."

"I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable.

"Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."

"I'll be there, Nile."

"Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."

Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth.

"So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back.

"Don't fucking tell me."

Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."

"She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good.

"Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."

"How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."

"I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."

"Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?"

"Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever."

It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it.

"Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."

"I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"

"As a distraction?"

Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?"

The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party."

It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house.

Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight.

Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on.

When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party.

Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him.

So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this?

And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink.

Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit.

She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?"

No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight.

They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism.

They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin.

Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you.

Oh, you don't like her.

"Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?"

Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."

"Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"

"Kind of?" You try.

Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?"

Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible.

Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"

Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe.

"Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"

"Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."

"I don't think that's really—"

"Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits.

"You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out.

For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands.

He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you.

"The fuck do you want, Jaeger?"

"Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?"

Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt.

"Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back.

"He's not worth it, Mike."

Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.

He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights.

He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him.

He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger.

You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now.

So he drinks.

He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—

Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch.

"What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him.

"I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"

"I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!"

Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in.

"What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?"

"No!"

"Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.

He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms.

"Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head.

Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?"

Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."

"Are you serious?"

Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile.

"I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!"

Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again.

"Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks.

"Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"

"Including you."

Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him.

"Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?"

"Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests.

Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty).

Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak.

"What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"

Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice.

"It's just Adderall, I swear!"

Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren.

"Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up.

Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen.

"They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile.

"Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"

"Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."

Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time.

Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way.

"Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back.

It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause.

"Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink.

He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind.

It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets.

He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts.

Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.

"God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in.

Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels.

A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again.

"Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."

"No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"

You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction.

"Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again.

"The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?"

"Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—

"Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic.

"I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him.

Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."

"He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker.

You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).

"Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."

"Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss.

He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand.

Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."

You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."

"What? No."

"There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out."

Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea.

"Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."

"So?"

"Erwin."

He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.

"Text me if you need help, alright?"

"You got it, boss."

He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.

His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning.

How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass.

It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh.

People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place.

Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way.

More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three.

Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep.

Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest.

After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it.

You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex.

You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).

It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long.

Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."

"Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."

"Nooo. No Miche."

"Yes, Miche," you laugh.

He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again.

When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."

You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again.

"Okay. Just Mike then."

He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again.

"You're a needy drunk, you know that?"

Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again.

"Sleep now," he mumbles.

"No, no sleep now."

"Sleep now."

"Oh my fucking god."

His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water.

He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday.

Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self.

So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid.

He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much.

"President… dumb boyyy."

"Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"

"Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr."

There's really no pleasing him.

"Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."

"Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."

You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you.

"You're fucking ridiculous."

Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub.

"Jesus Christ, Mike."

He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower.

"Water, pleeeease."

He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them.

"No, dude. I am not letting you drown."

Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle.

"Yeah, okay, I guess that works."

The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.

So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist.

He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."

Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright.

"ευχαριστώ."

"Come again?"

"Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward.

You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways.

Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze.

"You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time.

"Dunno."

"Can you tell who I am?"

Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"

"Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.

"That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun.

He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress.

Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel.

Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands.

"Can I help you?"

He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you.

"Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh.

Switching tactics, he pats his chest.

"Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."

Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…

Not like this.

"Please. No more vom. Promise."

"I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."

He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants.

A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth.

This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin.

Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks.

"'m mad at you."

Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting.

"I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."

Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep.

"Still love you."

You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason.

"I love you too, Miche."

Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake.

You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?"

"Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub.

Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."

"What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?"

He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!"

"You're disgusting."

"Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"

God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint.

"Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep.

"Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off.

"We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.

Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."

You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."

It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day.

"Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub.

"He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts.

"Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add.

Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing.

"We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile.

"Probably."

Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious.

It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look.

You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy.

There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him.

"'m still wet."

"You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."

"Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"

"Know how it works, dumb… butt."

"Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."

"Don't panotrize me!"

You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."

"That's what I said!"

It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard.

He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."

"All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."

"Why?"

"I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."

"Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair.

It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot.

He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours.

A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest.

Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed.

Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it.

You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.

The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #tw manipulation #tw vomit

184 notes · View notes

athina-blaine · 3 years

Text

50 Types of Kissing Writing Prompts: #36 - Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

This got away from me.

“Ask me again.”

“Jon, you’ve practised these questions about 20 times just on the way over. I don’t think-”

“Just ask me again.” A beat. “Please.”

Martin let out a lengthy sigh, the kind that came from deep in his belly. It echoed down the corridors of the school hall alongside their heels clicking on the vinyl floor. “Right. Okay, so, how would you describe your teaching philosophy?”

Jon took a deep breath, chest puffing up. “My teaching philosophy is that all children are unique and deserve to have a stimulating educational atmosphere. I want to provide a safe environment where students are encouraged to share their thoughts and take risks.”

Martin smiled, trying not to giggle, but Jon’s voice inflected the exact same way every time he’d say “risks”- a sort of huffy pitch. It was hard not to be amused. “Very good.”

“Ask me the question about resolving conflicts in the classroom.”

“How do you intend to resolve conflicts in the classroom?”

“I would isolate the nature of the conflict in question and strategise accordingly. Compromise is the ideal resolution but in the event one cannot be reached, I will contact a higher authority than myself to mediate and help find a solution.”

“Perfect.”

“You don’t think it makes me look weak-willed?” Jon asked, brows furrowed with distress. “The part about contacting another authority figure? What if they want me to be able to handle the problem by myself?”

“I think it’s fine. You’re new. Shows you won’t let your ego get in the way when you need help.”

Jon let out a low breath, nodding slowly. His chest collapsed until he was nearly hunched over, and he tugged frantically at the strap of his briefcase. Martin had lent him that briefcase since it matched his nice navy blue jacket- he also figured it would help Jon feel more professional.

Martin wanted to say as much, lavish Jon in compliments on how scholarly and refined he looked, but every step they took closer to the school’s administrative office seemed to wound him up tighter and tighter until that briefcase strap threatened to fall apart. If Martin said Jon looked good now, Jon would just argue with him, citing the scuff in his shoes he hadn’t managed to buff out, or quadruple-guess the way he’d tied up his hair or something. The last thing Martin wanted to do was make Jon self-conscious; he’d just have to save all his gushing and lavishing for after the interview.

Martin’s restraint didn’t seem to matter, though, as, without warning, Jon stopped dead in the middle of the hall, digging into the recesses of his case. “I-I should practice the lesson plan one more time, the entire lecture phase is-”

“Jon.” Martin clasped his hands on Jon’s shoulders and turned him around. Jon stared up at him, eyes owlish and glossy with muted panic. “Please. Relax. It’s a part-time home economics class, not tenure for university English lit. You’re funny and charismatic and intelligent. They’re going to be begging you to take the job. The nice lady on the phone said as much.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t make promises you have no possible way of keeping,” Jon said, a sliver of ice snaking through his words. Martin lifted a pointed brow, and a dark stain flushed Jon’s face. He looked away. “No, I … Sorry. I don’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“It’s not that, it’s …” Jon sighed, shoulders sagging. “I just want this to work. I … need this to work.”

Martin tilted his head. This wasn’t the same frantic energy Jon had been carrying with him since he’d gotten off the phone with Principal Williams last week. This was something heavier. More sombre.

“Can you tell me why?”

“It’s silly.”

“Maybe.” Martin shrugged. “Most things are.”

Jon still wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring down at their warped reflections in the floor. Martin waited, rubbing his thumbs over the jut of Jon’s shoulders.

“I just …” Jon started, then paused to breathe. “I don’t know whether or not I can still … function out here. Outside of the Institute. It’s been so long and … what if I just … can’t?” His voice lowered to a dull murmur. “What if I can’t make the adjustment?”

Humming, Martin stroked his hands up and down the length of Jon’s arms. He pressed a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “I don’t think that’s silly.”

Jon sighed through his nose, tickling Martin’s collarbone. Slowly, Martin pulled away.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, so. Let’s pretend you don’t get the job. Which won’t happen,” he said quickly when Jon’s head snapped up. “You are absolutely getting this job. But let’s just pretend you don’t. What do you think will happen after that?”

Jon’s brow furrowed with quiet confusion. His mouth flapped for a long while before, softly, “I … don’t understand?”

“Here’s what I think will happen,” Martin said, cupping Jon’s face between his hands. “We’ll go home. We’ll order a pizza, half cheese half-Mediterranean. We’ll flip on the TV and finish that nature documentary series. We can polish off that bottle of wine and I’ll rub your feet.” Martin leaned in close enough to press his lips to the bridge of Jon’s nose. “And then we’ll try something else. I actually think that animal hospital nearby is hiring.” Martin smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “You’d make a really cute vet tech.”

Jon’s lips twitched, eyes brimming with some complicated emotion. Martin smiled, holding his gaze until Jon turned away, face warming again.

“It’d suck if you didn’t get this job,” Martin said. “You’d be fantastic at it and they’d be stupid to turn you away. But, whatever happens, you’ll be fine. We will be fine.”

Silent, Jon stared somewhere between Martin’s chest and his neck. Then, he swayed forward, leaning into Martin’s sturdy weight, and Martin wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into prim, professionally styled hair. They stood like that for a long while, breathing each other in. Good thing Jon had them show up about a half-hour early for the interview, just in case.

When they parted, Jon opened his eyes again, calm and bright.

“We could also get killed by a rogue satellite,” he murmured. Martin’s eyes widened. “Just, you know, as a worst possible thing that could happen. Rogue satellite. Right on our heads.”

Martin snorted. “I don’t think I phrased it quite like that, but, yes, I suppose we should consider that a possibility.”

Jon took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, just as Martin taught him. He rolled out his neck, cleared his throat, and tilted his head up. “Alright. Kiss me.”

Martin blinked. “Um. What?”

“Kiss me.” A beat. “For luck. Obviously.”

“Oh. Obviously.” Martin tried to smother his twitching smile. “I didn't realise we'd started doing that."

“Yes.” His eyes became pleading. “Please?”

Martin rolled his eyes, but kissed him, a chaste pressing of their lips. Jon’s eyes had slid shut and he took another deep breath.

“One more?”

Martin obliged. Jon’s eyes remained closed, his chin still tilted up. Martin provided another one without prompting, and then one more, for good measure, soft and indulgent. They were rubbing away at Jon's lip balm, but Martin's lips had been feeling a little dry anyway. The tension bled from Jon’s shoulders, and Martin parted with a breathy sigh.

“That’s all your lucky kisses for the year,” Martin said, earning himself a chuckle. “Spend it wisely.”

A cough drew their attention. An older woman stood idle by one of the classrooms. Through both of their embarrassed spluttering, Martin managed to note her and Jon had tied their hair in similar fashions.

Oh yeah. Jon was going to fit right in.

The woman stepped forward. “Mr. Sims, I presume?”

“I- uh, y-yes, ma’am.” Jon’s face was burning but the woman smiled.

“Glad you could make it. Mrs. Williams seemed really impressed with you after your phone call. Shall I walk you to her office?”

Jon nodded, squeezing Martin’s hand hard enough to break it off and take it with him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, none of this ma’am stuff. We’re going to be coworkers, yeah?" She held out her hand. "You can call me Janice. I teach maths.”

“Yes, m- Yes, Janice. It’s a pleasure to meet you." Jon accepted her hand. "Um, you can call me Jon.”

After their quick handshake, she indicated towards the hallway. Jon nodded and looked over to Martin. “I, uh … guess I’ll meet you by the car?”

“Meet you there.” Martin gave his hand one more squeeze. “Good luck.”

Jon smiled, a delicate, fluttering thing, before he slid his hand out of Martin’s and allowed Janice to lead them down the hallway.

“So, you’re from London, yeah?” she asked. “Grow up there?”

“No, I’m from Bournemouth. I moved to London after I graduated uni.”

“Oh, really? I think I’ve got a cousin who lives by that area. Always wish I’d have lived somewhere more coastal.” She turned to him, her teeth pearly white. “I have to say, we’re all a little curious about you. Don’t have many city-people here. We’re really excited to have you onboard.”

“Oh.” Even from this distance, Martin could see the way Jon’s face flushed. “I … I see.”

“I’m sure the others will want to ask you all sorts of questions, but don’t let that put you off, the staff here is as sweet as can be. They’ll get used to you soon enough.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder back at Martin, looking fit to burst. Martin waved, sure that his own expression was as sappy and affectionate as could be.

Yeah.

They’re going to be just fine.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #50 types of kisses

313 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

I love when a delusional protective yandere makes their darling go through an experience that weakens them physically ( like starving or hypothermia, I’m a slut for hypothermia whump) and then acts like they are their darling’s savior. Could you write something like that for Iwaizumi from haikyu please?

If you want hypothermia, then who am I to keep it from you? Iwaizumi would just be so loving, too, and so patient… I can only imagine slow-burn punishments would be his favorite method.

Title: Cold Shoulder.

TW: Hypothermia, Delusional Mindsets, and Implied Kidnapping.

You deserved worse.

Iwaizumi was sure of it. If you’d been with anyone else, romantic or platonic or otherwise, they wouldn’t tolerate your behavior for a second longer than he did. He was a saint for putting up with it for so long, a martyr. If you were with someone less patient, you would’ve been kicked to the curb the moment you let your stubbornness show its ugly face. If you were with anyone less kind, you would’ve been strapped down and taught a lesson with one of the dull, rusted knives in the kitchen, the ones Oikawa never bothered to replace. Iwaizumi couldn’t complain, though. He’d already called in a favor to get his hands on the athlete’s summer cabin for a few weeks, no questions asked. As far as Iwaizumi was concerned, a secluded little shack in the middle of some Argentinian mountain range was still too good for you.

But, that’s why you were here. Why he was here.

Because you needed to see how spoiled you’d gotten.

Iwaizumi really didn’t feel bad about it. You’d been quiet since you arrived, suspicious and thoroughly sedated, but the silence got old fast. Usually, when you feel into one of your tantrums, he’d be the one to compromise, making sure your restraints were as tight as they could be before stalking off to cool down. But, he didn’t have to, this time. There was no need for restraints this far in the wilderness, so Iwaizumi only hesitated for a moment before taking you by the hair and dragging you outside, locking every door he could find before your shock wore off. And now, you were stuck shivering on a snow-covered porch, the sun long-past set and your body crumpled in front of the wide, seamless glass door.

Maybe if you asked nicely, he would let you in, but your jaw had locked in place minutes ago, your throat too hoarse from all that screaming to vocalize much of anything. Iwaizumi was content to watch from a distance, a mug of freshly-brewed coffee in hand, the bitterness spreading over his tongue as your skin drained of its color, soon replaced with a raw, fresh flush. You were shirtless, the article torn and discarded in your struggle, leaving a thin pair of shorts as your only defense from solid ice and chilled wind. Even those were soaked through, protecting nothing more than your pride, and he’d seen you playing with the hem, considering abandoning them, as well. That might count. He’d still need a proper apology, but it could serve as a starting point. An admission that ‘yes, Hajime, you’re always right and I’m always wrong, and I’m so, so sorry I didn’t see that before’. That he took care of you. That you appreciated him.

Lingering on the thought, he took a sip of the dark brew, wondering why he’d bothered letting you wear anything at all. You were standing, now, arms crossed and hugging your chest, your face nearly red and your fingertips so pale, he wondered how many he’d have to break before the pain set in. You took a step towards him, then one back, a shudder running up the length of your spine as the exposed soles of your feet made contact with the freezing ground. When you sighed, your breath was visible, forming a steamy, white cloud, almost masking the way your gaze flickered over him, searching for any signs of regret. Iwaizumi didn’t budge. He stared on as you dragged yourself towards the transparent door, a hand prying itself from your self-made shelter. You knocked gently, but his attention never strayed from your lips, forming soundless, stiff submissions.

‘Please’.

Iwaizumi smiled. That was all he needed to here.

He undid the lock slowly, watching squirm and shift your weight, your movements jerky, weak. As soon as he turned the knob, you were throwing yourself against the door, letting your weight fall against the thick panel, and when that gave way, into his arms. Your skin was cold to the touch, sapping the heat from his chest and burning his fingertips where they pressed into your sides. Still, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder lightly as you melted against him. “That’s better,” He whispered, keeping his voice low, nearly inaudible. “I hate it when I have to worry about you, like that. I’m going to get you something warm to drink, alright? Then we can talk about what you did wrong.”

He waited, for a second or two, but you didn’t respond, hanging limp with your arms loosely draped around his neck.

Iwaizumi found himself gritting his teeth. “Alright, baby?”

“Please…” You trailed off, making a half-hearted attempt to push yourself away from him, but your legs were shaking, knees buckling and locking together, your body still shaking, trembling, just as badly as you were a few minutes ago. He tried to help, but you batted him away, biting the inside of your cheek and backing away from him. Avoiding him. “I-I just want to go to sleep. I’m so tired, Hajime, it was so… It was just so cold. I’d really rather not…” You bowed your head, going tense. Iwaizumi dug his nails into his palms. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

A brat. A spoiled, pouting brat. You were ungrateful, and more than that, you were acting innocent. Like you hadn’t done anything wrong. Like you didn’t deserve everything you got. It was all he could do to spit the solid, jagged thing blocking his throat out, his words tearing at his vocal cords as they formed. “That’s not--”

“I just want to go to bed.” You weren’t asking, anymore. Unsteadily, you tried to push past him, stopping as soon as he took you by the wrist. You looked towards him with pleading eyes, and Iwaizumi glared. The last thing he wanted to deal with was your tricks. “Please, Hajime.”

He didn’t indulge you with an answer. Instead, he tightened his hold on your forearm, throwing you over the threshold and letting you stumble to a stop as he slammed the door behind you, the lock snapping into place by the time you’d turned around. You didn’t try to save your dignity, this time, running towards him, falling to your knees and banging your fists on the glass, begging incoherently, screaming, the sound just barely reaching his ears. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t guilty, or touched or sympathetic or weak. He wasn’t going to let you get out of a lesson you clearly needed.

Another hour, he decided. Maybe two. The amount of time didn’t really matter. He’d let you in when you were too exhausted to whine.

He was only being fair, after all.

430 notes · View notes

awkwardpenguinproductions · 3 years

Text

Rebellion

Part 8 of Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The prisoner is tiny.

That’s the first thing Zuko notices, when Banli Squad returns triumphant from their mission with a figure wrapped in heavy iron netting like a landed fish. Tiny, and young. Zuko would be damned if the kid was a day older than eleven. The top of their bald, tattooed head barely comes up to the middle of Zuko’s chest.

White hot rage shoots through him as Zheng shoves the Avatar down the corridor ahead of him, radiating smugness like a fucking peacock. He wants to rip that netting off and carry the kid away from here, away from Zhao who acts like the entire Stronghold and everyone in it is his to do whatever the fuck he wants with.

The plan, dum dum, remember the plan, he chants to himself, and holds onto his control with both hands and every ounce of stubbornness in his body.

Do you think it’s true? The Avatar’s returned? Zuko had demanded, barely waiting for the Commander’s office door to close behind him. The announcement had been made twenty minutes ago, and Zuko had immediately followed the older man to his office when he’d left the mess hall.

Commander Toshiaki hadn’t replied immediately, but had reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of rotgut. He’d poured two cups, knocked one back, and pushed the other toward Zuko, who sipped at it warily, grimacing at the taste.

The Commander had dropped into his desk chair and tilted his head back for a moment before beginning to sign. I can’t imagine the Fire Lord making an announcement like that unless there was some truth to it. Either way, it changes things.

No kidding! Zuko had snapped. The Commander shot him a Look, and Zuko had winced and signed a quick Sorry, sir.

The Commander had sighed silently. If anything, all it does is move the timeline up rather a lot. It shouldn’t take the Avatar very long to gather followers and allies, and as the main aggressor in the war, the Fire Lord will be their main focus.

Instead of waiting for Azula to come of age and then to get impatient, we just cut her out of the line completely, Zuko had realized. Instead of the war dragging on for another four years or more, the Avatar can help us end it sooner. Within the year, even!

The Commander had nodded. We need to stay alert for opportunities slip away and rendezvous with the Avatar and their followers. I have a list of Troop members who are willing to defect. When the opportunity presents itself, you will give the signal, and the Yuyan Archers will disappear.

Zuko meets the Commander’s eyes, and blinks. The Commander blinks back.

Zuko slips down a service corridor, and races back to the Yuyan dorm. He grabs the bag he’d kept prepared for this exact scenario and his dao, and shimmies up into the ventilation shaft. With his most recent growth spurt, it’s a bit of a snug fit, and Zuko suddenly has to wrestle back the panicked thought of oh Agni what if I get stuck. He pauses, breathes a few deep breaths, and continues on to the bathroom, where he gets his Blue Spirit uniform on as fast as he can. His hair gets tied back into a braid, the length of which is tucked under his tunic and hood. His dao go on his back, every single throwing knife he owns is strapped somewhere on his body, and he carefully burns the clothes he was wearing in the brazier that heats the water for the ofuro. The bag his Blue Spirit materials were in gets folded up as small as Zuko can possibly make it and tucked into the back of his belt. Could be useful later.

He fastens his mask as securely as he possibly can, and Cadet Zuko of the Yuyan Archers disappears. In his place stands the Blue Spirit, ready for war.

By now the Avatar will have been secured in one of the cells at the top of the Central Tower, where the most powerful benders are kept for holding. Zuko ensures that he has left no trace of his presence in the bathroom, and makes his way upstairs as fast as he can, employing every shadow-walking technique he knows to avoid detection.

It’s caution well spent, because the upper detention level is crawling with Stronghold guards. At least a dozen of them. Zhao may be a pompous ass and a creep to rival Koh themself, but he’s not completely stupid. These guys must be new, though, or they came with the Admiral, because they are not nearly as wary of dark corners and high shadowed ceilings as they should be.

It’s quick work knocking the idiots out and looping lengths of chain around their ankles to hang them from the rafters like freshly hunted game. If this were a training exercise, he would’ve just left them where they had fallen, but Zuko can’t afford the possibility that they’d wake up and be able to come after him and the Avatar. Getting out of the Stronghold is going to be hard enough, no need to alert anyone to the breakout any earlier than necessary.

Only one of the cells has a guard at the door, who is reaching for the signaling horn as Zuko peeks around the corner. Zuko grabs a bucket of water kept for the guards to drink on duty in one hand, and throws one of his knives with the other. The horn is knocked out of the guard's hand, and as Zuko rushes him the man shoots a rather paltry plume of flame at him. Zuko doesn't miss a beat as he throws the water into the strike, then whips the bucket into the man's leading foot to break his root.

Thank Agni for Mika's "learn-to-fight-with-any-kind-of-random-shit" lessons, he thinks a bit hysterically as the man goes crashing to the floor. He binds the man with his own handcuffs, borrowing a second set that had fallen from another guard's belt to bind his ankles, and ties a length of cloth he finds in the last guard's pocket into a gag.

He takes a minute to retrieve his throwing knife and to breathe, and he can very distantly hear Zhao's ridiculous speech echoing up from the main courtyard.

Zhao had arrived about two weeks after the Winter Solstice, just in time for the Fire Nation Armed Forces' rumor mill to have built up a full head of steam. He had swept into the Stronghold like he'd owned the place, towering over Colonel Shinu in a ridiculous attempt to intimidate the much shorter man, but he had still been a Commander at the time and the Colonel had quickly put him in his place. The complete 180° turn the man's personality had taken at that point had completely creeped Zuko out, had reminded him uncomfortably of Azula, and he'd done his absolute best not to be caught alone with him.

A few days after Zhao's arrival, Commander Toshiaki had indicated that he'd wanted a meeting, and Zuko had met him in his office.

Zhao has been trying to convince Colonel Shinu to allow him to use the Archers in his hunt for the Avatar, the Commander had signed as soon as the door was closed behind Zuko. The tension in the older man's body had been obvious, his signs rigidly composed.

There's no way the Colonel will go for that, Zuko had replied, trying to decipher the Commander's body language. Disapproval, maybe? Or anger? Either were rarely seen from the stern but kind officer, and therefore hard to recognize.

He may no longer have a choice. The Commander's jaw clenched. Anger, then, and Zuko had felt proud of himself that he'd felt no unease at all around the Commander as he'd struggled to hold his temper. A messenger hawk arrived last night. Zhao has been promoted to Admiral by the Fire Lord.

Fuck, Zuko had stated into the whirling chaos of his mind. With that wonderful piece of news, it was only a matter of time before the Avatar was captured.

My Prince, I also have reason to believe that your safety could be compromised should Zhao discover your identity, the Commander continued. He has been overheard making… comments… about your performance in the Agni Kai against the Fire Lord, as well as voicing theories as to your current location and opinions of how you should be treated when returned to royal custody. A small, distant part of Zuko had mused that if the Commander had been a bender, he would’ve seared the top of his desk black in his rage.

I believe, Prince Zuko, that it would be prudent of you to consider vacating the Stronghold sooner rather than later. The Commander had looked like every sign he’d made had been physically painful, which had eased the pain in Zuko’s own heart of being ousted from his home again. This time was not for someone else’s gain or convenience, but for Zuko’s own safety. And it wasn’t going to be forever, like his abandonment. No matter what ended up happening, Zuko knew he would see his Troop, his family, again. Kai would hunt him down, to say nothing of the rest of Chihese Squad and the Commander himself.

I understand, Commander, Zuko had replied, smiling at his commanding officer. Depending on how quickly the Avatar is apprehended, the Blue Spirit should be able to escort them away without too much effort.

Famous last words, Zuko growls silently to himself as he picks the lock on the cell. It’s a new model, something Zhao had installed in the last couple of weeks as he prepared to imprison the Avatar, and Zuko hasn’t had enough opportunity to practice picking it between avoiding Zhao and smuggling supplies and his belongings out of the Stronghold with his squad under the guise of “wilderness training”.

It takes forty-seven seconds more than Zuko really cares to admit, but he does finally get the cell door open, and he slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

The Avatar is chained hand and foot in the center of the cavernous cell, arms held out and fastened to the two huge torches that provide the only light in the room. Their odd yellow, orange, and brown clothes are tattered and splashed with mud, and their skin is ghostly pale. Their stormy gray eyes are huge in their face as they stare at Zuko.

Zuko draws his dao, and rushes forward in a form meant to build momentum. The Avatar screams and cringes back, squeezing their eyes shut. Zuko’s blades slice cleanly through the chains holding their arms, and it takes the Avatar a moment to realize that they aren’t hurt and to stop screaming and open their eyes. They stare in bafflement at the manacles on their wrists, which Zuko also slices off. He finishes with the cuffs on their feet, and strides back to the cell door.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” The Avatar’s voice calls out, high with prepubescence and stress. “Are you here to rescue me?”

Duh, Zuko thinks, opening the door and making sure the coast is clear before turning back and making a vague come on gesture.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Avatar mumbles, warily following him. Their footsteps are barely audible against the steel-clad floors, and Zuko has to listen extra hard to make sure they’re still with him.

“My frogs!” The Avatar gasps, and Zuko has just enough time to think what? before those nearly silent footsteps go pattering off in another direction. He clenches his teeth behind the mask and follows, catching up as the Avatar is kneeling on the floor trying to catch a bunch of half-frozen wood frogs. He grabs the kid by the collar of their weird tunic and hauls them away, and cringes when the little idiot hollers for the entire Stronghold to hear, “But my friends need to suck on those frogs!”

Zuko switches his grip on this absolute moron of an Avatar from their collar to the front of their tunic, (gently) pushes them against the closest wall, and flicks them between the eyes hard with his free hand. Then he puts his finger against the grinning mouth of his mask for quiet.

The Avatar has the grace to be chagrined, at least. “I’m sorry,” they whisper. “It’s just— I got captured ‘cause I was gathering those frogs ‘cause my friends are sick and the crazy old lady on the top of the mountain said that they needed to suck on the frozen frogs to get better and I’m really worried about them— my friends, not the frogs— but I know I gotta be quiet so we can get out of here, right?”

Great Agni and all the stars, how is this kid the spirits-damned Avatar? Zuko bites back a sigh, nods sharply, and makes a note that the Avatar has ill companions that need treatment. The Avatar nods back, eyes huge in their pale face.

Zuko leads the way to the main sewer line, which the pair of them follow out of the Central Tower and to the back courtyard. A quick peek through the bars above their heads reveals that the coast is clear, and Zuko points upward to indicate to the Avatar that they need to pull themselves up through the bars. The Avatar follows without a word, and they break for the rope that hangs from the top of the Stronghold’s innermost wall, left there by one of the Archers on Commander Toshiaki’s orders.

They’re halfway up the rope when the alarm sounds. Zuko can hear Zhao shouting that “the Avatar has escaped!”, and some bootlicker responds with “There! On the wall!”. Zuko has five seconds to curse his fucking luck before the rope in his hands goes slack and they start to fall.

The Avatar does something, and with a roar of wind Zuko feels himself slowing down in midair, and they both land gently on their feet. Zuko draws his dao and points with one to the gates starting to close. As one he and the Avatar start running for the gates as Zhao shouts "Close all the gates immediately!" like the gatemen don't know how to do their freaking jobs.

"Stay close to me!" The Avatar tells him, and all Zuko can do is nod and try to keep up as the Avatar zooms towards the gate, faster than a normal human can run. Zuko's no slouch, racing against Jiyoti will ensure that, but after airbending a line of guards out of the way, the Avatar seems to forget that Zuko can't run as fast, because they book it for the gate and leave Zuko in the dust.

He gets cornered, surrounded by guards with spears, and it takes everything he has to keep from bending, because if even the slightest spark slips from his blades he’s done for. Abruptly the guards disappear, blown away by the Avatar’s airbending, and Zuko has a moment to wonder why they don’t bend any of the other elements before the Avatar swings a broken spear like a trebuchet and Zuko goes flying.

He lands on top of the innermost wall and immediately tucks into a roll to bleed off the momentum. He hears the clomping steps of the guards approaching and snaps to his feet, swords out and held at the ready, and then something slams into his upper back and a steel band wraps around his chest under his arms, and with a jerk he’s flying again.

They land with a crash on the intermediate wall, and Zuko’s blades clatter away. He doesn’t have time to grab them, though, because the Avatar’s been cornered by a guard at least twice their size. Their makeshift staff has been knocked away, and Zuko doesn’t think before he grabs the guard around the middle and throws him off the wall.

They reach the other side of the wall just as more guards come up the bamboo emergency ladders. The Avatar blows the first two ladders clear with their airbending, and Zuko just finishes clearing the third and barely has time to sheath his blades before the Avatar is handing him one of the ladders with a hurried "hold this!". They have the second ladder in their arms, and they jump onto the parapet of the wall and step onto the third ladder, pushing it away from the wall.

"Jump on my back!" The absolutely wolf-bat fucking crazy Avatar calls at him, and Zuko can do nothing but obey. His momentum and weight are what tip the ladder over fully away from the wall, and the Avatar maneuvers the ladder in his arms so that the pair of them stilt-walk across the no-man's land between the intermediate and outer walls. However, some really intelligent person decides to set fire to the last ladder. Zuko and the Avatar are forced to jump for the outer wall, but Zuko can't keep his grip, and they tumble to the ground just in front of the outer gate.

Dazedly shaking his head, Zuko struggles to his feet and draws his blades as the guards converge upon them. Four firebending guards (I trained with you! a tiny part of Zuko sobs upon seeing them, I sparred with you and you laughed when I beat you!) blast at them in unison, and Zuko is ready to deflect the flames with his blades when the Avatar spins them around and defends them with airbending.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

The flames die away as Admiral Zhao himself strides forward, hands clasped behind his back as calm as can be. "The Avatar must be captured alive," he orders, scowling, but there's a triumphant light in his cold bronze eyes that Zuko immediately hates. Then his words hit, and Zuko immediately knows what to do.

Sorry, kid, just trying to get us out of here alive, he apologizes silently to the Avatar, as he crosses his blades under their chin, razor-sharp edges each a hairsbreadth from the delicate pale skin of their neck. The Avatar makes a strangled "ulp!" sound, and Zuko presses himself against their back and stares Zhao in the eye.

A vein throbs in the man's temple as he grits his teeth in frustration. "Open the gate," he grits out, after a moment of attempting to glare Zuko into submission. Compared to Mika without her morning black tea, the guy's a rank amateur.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Colonel Shinu hisses from his position at Zhao's shoulder.

"Let them out," Zhao snaps. "NOW."

The gate creaks open behind them, and Zuko carefully walks backward, keeping his blades rock steady at the Avatar's neck. He doesn't take a single eye off of Zhao.

They're in the middle of the last crossroads before the forest when something zings through the air and everything abruptly goes dark.

Zuko had reported to the medbay at Dr. Atsuko's order, and the Chief Medical Officer of the Stronghold had ushered him into her office at the back of the ward.

"Zhao's just sent out Banli Squad to retrieve the Avatar," she'd said brusquely. "Are you ready? Do you have all of the supplies you need, all of the things you're going to take?"

I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Zuko had replied. The Commander gave the signal for everyone who's leaving to be ready to disappear after Banli gets back. I'll be meeting up with Kai at noon the day after the Avatar and I escape to get my bow and quiver from him, since I can't exactly carry them with me as the Blue Spirit. Are you leaving too?

Dr. Atsuko had nodded. "It's time," she'd said, and for once the steel had melted from her expression and she'd actually looked sad. "I've done all I can here, but it's time to go where I can do some real good."

Where will you go? Zuko had asked.

"Here and there," Dr. Atsuko had shrugged. "I've got options. A doctor, especially one with my skills, is always in demand. Before you take off, though, I've got something to teach you," and she'd handed him a Pai Sho tile, the Lotus.

Five hours later, Zuko had been leaving the mess hall after dinner when Banli Squad had paraded the Avatar through the Stronghold.

Zuko wakes up to early morning light filtering through tall trees, a full range of vision due to his mask being gone, and the Avatar sitting curled up in a little ball on top of a huge tree root. He also wakes up to a splitting headache, and bites back a groan that's half pain and half frustration. He doesn't have time for this, the Avatar's a fucking kid, and probably doesn't know any bending besides their native element, and Zuko somehow has to get them ready to… what, overthrow the Fire Lord? Get Zuko's throne back for him?

His temple throbs, and Zuko can't quite bite back the hiss that he makes as he sits up, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, you're awake!" The Avatar exclaims, voice piercing in the stillness of the surrounding forest. Zuko winces, and thankfully the Avatar seems to notice, because their voice drops several levels of volume until they're almost but not quite whispering. "I never got to thank you last night for getting me out of there. That Zhao guy was kinda creepy. What's your name? I'm Aang."

My name's Zuko, Zuko signs, slow and sluggish with pain and the stiffness that comes with not cooling down properly after excessive exercise. What're your preferred pronouns? I don't want to assume anything.

The Avatar is watching him with huge gray eyes, and Zuko knows without them even opening their mouth that they have no idea what he just said.

Oh damn me to Koh's lair, he thinks, heart sinking. Not only does the spirits-damned Avatar not know any of the other elements, they don't know hand-language. Honestly, Zuko doesn't know why he'd assumed that they would, the Yuyan guard their language with the same ferocity that they hunt their quarries.

"Is that… talking? With your hands?" The Avatar asks, eyebrows sliding up the blue arrow tattoo to the sky. Their voice is hushed and full of wonder. "Can you teach me that?"

Ah, a yes or no question. Zuko nods, then gingerly gets up, glancing around for his mask and picking it up where it lies next to the bed of green leaves that he'd been resting on. His blades are there too, and Zuko huffs slightly in relief as he slings them across his back. He looks at the mask, noting the large scratch in the lacquer on the left side of the forehead. That must've been some shot, he reflects, and kind of wishes he'd been able to see it.

"Uh, so I gotta get some frozen wood frogs for my friends, 'cause they're really sick," the Avatar, Aang, says awkwardly. "You want to come along? Do you have anywhere else to go? Katara could probably give you something for your head, if it's hurting you."

Zuko tugs his braid out of his shirt, cracks his neck, and gestures for Aang to lead the way.

Previous | Next

#atla #atla fanfic #awkpenproductions presents #dragon of the yuyan #part 8 rebellion #full text post

17 notes · View notes

gaygryffindorgal · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 2: Apprentice Curse-Breakers

Summary: The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has some extracurricular activities in mind, and Ben struggles with the events of last year.

Pairings: Eventual OC/Merula Snyde

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Mild swearing, canon typical mean Merula

Previous / Next

Chapter 2: Apprentice Curse-Breakers

Their first class of the year was DADA, and that made Verna extremely nervous. Rowan had made it clear they didn’t think Rakepick could be trusted. In their words, she had been shifty at best and suspicious at worst last year when she had worked with Verna. Rowan was not happy about Rakepick’s appointment as a professor and that made Verna uneasy too. She had always known Rowan had far better judgement than her, and most days Charlie and Ben agreed with that sentiment. So, after breakfast, when the Gryffindors were filing into the DADA classroom, the mood between the four friends was not over the moon. Rakepick was already in the classroom, writing something at her desk. The class went through some major decorative changes each year when a new teacher took it over. It had become routine by now. For Rakepick, the theme seemed to be artifacts of various sizes and ages, that were spread all over the room on pedestals and tables, cabinets and other surfaces.

“Cursed items,” Rowan noted, when they took their seats.

“A niffler,” Verna replied, pointing out Sickleworth, Rakepick’s niffler whom she had had an unlikely partnership with last year, while investigating the Sleepwalking curse.

That was when Professor Rakepick got up from her seat, cleared her throat and snapped her wand, closing the classroom door and making writing appear on the blackboard in front of the class.

“Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts,” she announced, in a tone that implied not a small amount of unimpressedness. “I realize I am your fifth instructor in as many years, and that most of your other teachers’ methods were as questionable as their characters.”

Next to Verna, Rowan balled their hands into fists. They obviously had a thing or two to say about that.

“This year, I am not only going to teach you how to defend yourselves, but how to attack the Dark Arts,” Rakepick continued. “You will receive the finest instruction from someone who has actually faced the worst the Dark Arts have to offer.”

Something about the speech did make Verna listen. She couldn’t deny being interested in learning combat spells, the more the better, because she was sure to need them. From the corner of her eye, she also saw Merula listening intently. This year was gonna be another one spent trying to beat Merula to the top of their class. DADA was pretty much the only subject where she had any chance at all. Usually, it was Rowan and Merula vying for the title, but Verna wasn’t hopeless when it came to duelling and martial magic.

“They say this position is cursed,” Rakepick was saying now. “But breaking curses is what I do best. Now let’s get started, take out your books.”

After a whole class spent on how to deal with Ghouls, Verna was feeling much better about DADA. Maybe Rakepick wasn’t going to be so bad. Rowan didn’t feel the same way.

“She might know what she’s talking about, but she has no teaching experience, and I still don’t trust her after the way she dealt with you last year Verna,” they were saying, a little heated. “I think you should be careful if she decides to ask something from you, or… something…”

“Don’t you think you’re maybe overreacting a little bit?” asked Charlie.

“I agree with Rowan,” Ben inserted. “I don’t like her either.”

“We’ll be careful,” Verna assured her friends. “But Dumbledore must’ve had a reason hiring her.”

“Yeah, that’s true… I don’t know, I just don’t like this…” Rowan said and slowly the conversation turned to more casual matters, such as Barnaby Lee’s new pet crup puppy. The general consensus seemed to be that it was extremely cute.

After the day’s classes Verna was officially introduced to one Percy Weasley in the library. She and Charlie headed there to get started on charting out how much cramming they’d have to do for their O.W.L.s, only to find Bill and Percy already there, both noses buried deep in books, a scrappy-looking rat sitting on the table next to their study-material.

“Oh, hi Verna,” Bill said with a smile. “Did you two come to actually study?” The surprise in his voice was neither flattering nor unexpected.

“We came to plan on studying,” Verna told Bill, as she and Charlie sat down.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Bill chuckled and then patted Percy on the shoulder. “Percy, this is Verna.”

“I know,” Percy said in a manner that seemed much too adult-like for an 11-year-old. “She gave us a rather short introduction of Gryffindor common room last night, but I haven’t had a chance to properly introduce myself, I’m Percy Weasley, future prefect, Head Boy, and Minister for Magic.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Percy, sounds like you have your future pretty well planned out,” Verna said and emulated her tone and smile to Beatrice from the previous night, with wildly different results. It appeared Percy was not a fan of hers.

“If you let him, he’ll plan your life for you, too,” Bill said, amused.

“This is my loyal rat, Scabbers,” Percy continued.

“Loyal?” asked Charlie. “It runs off every chance it gets.”

“There’s something off about that rat, yeah…” Bill agreed.

“Ron likes him!” Percy defended his pet.

“Ron’s eight, he likes everything except for spiders,” Charlie complained. Both of the older Weasleys seemed to have such a weird aversion for poor Scabbers that Verna felt bad for it.

“I have a rat too; his name is Hamish. He actually belonged to my brother, but I’ve been taking care of it in his absence.”

This seemed to appeal to Percy, whose tone towards Verna changed a little, when he said: “That’s really kind of you, to take care of your brother’s pet.”

Verna considered this a victory.

Their study session was cut short, when Professor Rakepick approached their table something like thirty minutes into Verna and Charlie trying to figure out what exactly to focus most on.

“Mr. Weasley,” she started, and all three of the Weasleys replied with an immediate ‘yes?’.

Verna stifled a laugh.

“William Weasley,” Rakepick specified. “Come with me. You too Miss Malinda, we have work to do.”

Exchanging a glance with Charlie, and Rowan’s misgivings about Rakepick running on a loop in her head, Verna followed Bill and the professor out of the library.

“What is this about?” she whispered to Bill.

“No idea, I guess we’ll find out soon, though…”

Rakepick took them up to her classroom, where Merula Snyde was already sitting on one of the desks, preoccupied with changing the colour of her painted nails to pay much attention to Verna and the others entering. Verna wasn’t happy to see her. Whatever Rakepick had in mind seemed to involve Merula, and that was never good news.

“Cease your activities Miss Snyde, we have important matters to discuss,” Rakepick commanded, and Merula immediately jumped down from the desk and stood straight. Verna and Bill walked up next to her as Rakepick went on to stand beside the teacher’s desk. She was tall and had a bearing of someone accustomed to commanding respect. Verna found it quite easy to believe she was capable of handling anything that was thrown at her. That’s how I want to be, she thought briefly.

“Congratulations you three. Of all the students at Hogwarts, I’ve chosen you to be my apprentice curse-breakers. Mr Weasley for his bravery and determination, Miss Snyde for her ambition and strength, and Miss Malinda for her natural talent, and obvious connection to the cursed vaults.”

“Why is Merula here?” Verna asked without missing a beat. She was not about to compromise her chances of rescuing her brother for the sake of Merula’s ambitions. She knew by now that Merula would never sacrifice her chances of getting whatever power and knowledge the vaults could give her, not for Jacob’s sake, not for anyone’s.

“Because she is a powerful witch and you’d be a fool not to accept her help, after all, I had to save you from Mr Copper’s attack just months ago.”

Merula remained quiet but gave Verna a smug grin.

“Enough. We need each other’s help to find the next vault and end its curse before anyone gets hurt,” Rakepick said. “I’m going to train you so that you can be more of a help than a hindrance to me, starting with the Incarcerous spell. Wands out!”

The three of them spent the next three hours attempting to learn the Binding spell with Rakepick’s instruction. She was a good teacher. Strict, demanding, but very clear in the way she instructed them, not leaning on any extra flash, just taking the simplest route to the desired outcome. Unsurprisingly, Bill was the first one to nail the spell. He had two years’ worth more experience and had always been talented. When Verna finally managed to cast the spell on Merula, she felt a sense of accomplishment far greater than if they had used training dummies. The spell conjured ropes that wound tightly around Merula, trapping her arms and binding her legs together. She wobbled for a while and then stumbled to the floor with a grunt. Verna couldn’t help but grin.

“Verna, I don’t think she can breathe…” Bill interrupted her victorious train of thought.

“Oh, shit,” Verna cursed. “Finite Incantatem!” she pointed her wand towards Merula and the ropes around her unbound. “Are you alright?” she asked despite herself.

“Of course, Malinda, mind your own business,” Merula spat, looking more hurt by the audacity of Verna asking her if she was okay. She got up and dusted off her ropes, avoiding looking at any of them.

Rakepick cleared her throat and said: “This is a valuable lesson; we are a team now. A family. No matter what happens, we must protect one another. Do you understand?”

With a sideways glance at Merula, Verna nodded. She hadn’t had this good of a chance to finding any of the previous vaults. Rakepick was an accomplished curse-breaker and now it started to make sense why she had singled out Verna the previous year. Maybe she had already known she’d work here this year and need Verna’s expertise with stopping another curse roaming the halls of Hogwarts. That was something good to tell Rowan, at least, to put their mind on ease.

“And the rest of you?” asked Rakepick with impatience.

“Of course,” Bill said immediately.

Merula eyed both of them with nothing short of disgust and then said: “Fine.”

“Good, then that’s all for tonight, you can go.”

Rakepick ushered them out of her class, and the three of them were left standing in the empty, darkening corridor. Verna had no idea about the time, but she guessed it was quite late and that they most definitely had missed dinner.

“So that was kind of… strange,” Bill said, but he sounded more excited than anything.

“Finally, someone is doing something in this school,” scoffed Merula.

“And I don’t want you or your megalomania getting in the way of saving my brother,” Verna exclaimed.

“Don’t worry Malinda, you finally have capable people helping so there’s a chance you won’t fuck this up.”

“Fuck off Merula.”

The shorter girl laughed, but there was nothing humorous about the sound. “You like to pretend you’re above the rest of us with your little mission to save your brother, but let’s face it; you’re just scared to admit you like feeling special. You want what’s inside those vaults just as much as me.”

“Shut your mouth about my brother,” Verna snarled. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Of course you’re not, cause I’m not pathetic.”

Verna instinctively reached for her wand and Merula did the same, taking a threatening step closer.

“Verna, we should… probably go… now,” Bill interrupted and placed himself between the two girls. He then proceeded to practically drag her towards the Gryffindor common room by the arm.

“I had it under control,” Verna said once they were out of earshot.

“Maybe, but I’d rather not take either one of you to the hospital wing in several different pieces.”

“Fine, yeah, you’re right or whatever… She just gets on my nerves.”

Bill gave her a curious look Verna couldn’t quite place, and then said: “Yeah, I know. You shouldn’t let her get to you that much, it’s what she wants.”

“I know, it’s infuriating.”

“You’re gonna have to be able to work together somehow, though.”

Verna frowned. “I’m not risking my brother’s, or anyone else’s life because of some school rivalry, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Bill said and then stopped. “Is that… Ben?” he asked and pointed to an alcove not far from where they were standing. It was dark so he was partly concealed in shadows, but when he heard his name, he looked towards them.

“Oh, hi Verna, Bill…”

“What are you sitting out here for?” Verna asked and went to her friend. Ben looked rough, like he hadn’t slept.

“I wanted to be alone and there’s always someone in the common room or the dorm…”

“Oh, sorry, I can go- “

“No, actually, can I talk to you for a second, Verna… I…” he trailed off and looked at Bill apologetically.

“I’ll go on ahead, don’t stay out long though,” Bill said reassuringly. Then he walked off to the direction of the Gryffindor tower.

“What did you want to talk about?” asked Verna and sat on the bench in the alcove next to Ben.

For a moment, Ben didn’t look like he was going to answer. Verna had the sudden urge to hug him, but she didn’t move, fearing that Ben would change his mind and leave like last night. Finally, he cleared his throat and stammered: “I’m scared that someone’s gonna take control of me again, and make me do something worse, or that I already have but I just can’t remember.”

He really was in a state. Gently, Verna laid a careful hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll work this out, you don’t have to deal with all this shit on your own, Ben, I’m the reason you’re in this mess in the first place.”

“I still don’t remember what really happened before I attacked you… Do you… do you really believe me? That I was controlled?”

“I promise you that I do, please at least stop worrying about that,” Verna assured him. Ben huffed out a breath and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Thank you, Verna, I don’t know if I’d be as understanding if I was in your shoes…”

Verna bit her lip. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to hear, but she couldn’t exactly blame Ben. Everything had gotten so messed up last year with Rowan and Ben arguing and Verna feeling like she was losing touch with them both. They used to all be so close and now every single interaction was laced with something like doubt. An uncertainty Verna wanted so badly to get rid of.

“We should head back to the common room before Filch finds us here, c’mon,” Verna said and got up.

Ben stood to follow and they were about to head after Bill, when suddenly Ben grabbed Verna’s arm and pulled her behind him.

“Look out!” he yelled and took out his wand but before he could so much as utter an incantation, a purple light hit him and knocked him to the side. Verna looked frantically for the source of the spell, and had her wand out in seconds, but she wasn’t fast enough either. Suddenly she felt her entire body stiffen up, as she was hit with what must’ve been the full body-bind curse. As she hit the ground quite painfully, she saw a hooded figure approach them from the shadows of the corridor. Desperately she tried to move, knowing full well it was not going to work. Her breathing came in shallow gasps as she lay there, helpless to do anything. The red-clad figure walked closer and kicked Verna’s wand out of her reach, as if it would’ve been any use for her in this state anyway.

“I told you death was coming to Hogwarts, Verna Malinda,” the figure said in a voice that was impossible to place or describe. It was modified with magic. “We still need you alive, but before this year ends, one of your friends has to die…”

Verna tried to focus on getting her fingers to move, to do something, anything. Her thoughts were a flurry of desperation and anger. The hooded figure leaned over Verna. She couldn’t make out a face or anything that could be used to recognize the attacker. Verna braced herself for something worse, but nothing happened. Instead, the figure stalked off, back into the shadows.

Verna was still trying to force her uncooperative muscles to move, when she saw Ben move in the corner of her eye. The boy sat up and Verna lost sight of him. She heard his footsteps and a muttered spell, and then felt her body able to move again. Without a second glance at Ben, Verna shot up like a lightning bolt, chasing into the direction the hooded person had disappeared to. She had to catch them, she had to. Her ears rang and when she looked down to her wand hand, it was shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear, or both.

“Verna, wait!” she heard Ben’s voice, and footsteps echoing after her.

Of course, there was nothing and no one to find. Verna was getting sick of this. She balled her hands into fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. How could she have let the wizard incapacitate her like that? Ben caught up to her and Verna took notice of him now that she could think a little more clearly. He seemed fine, just a little rattled.

“Verna, hey, it’s okay,” Ben tried to reassure her, but it wasn’t okay. Someone had threatened to kill one of her friends. The thought made her chest feel like it was filled with water. The ease with witch this stranger had knocked both of them out of the game made Verna feel sick all over.

“This is bullshit.”

“Verna-“

She took a deep breath. “Are you alright?” she then asked Ben.

“Yeah, you?”

Verna nodded. “Do you think that was someone we know being used against us?”

“I don’t know to be honest… but we should head back now, before someone else attacks us…” Ben said and there was nothing to it, he was right. Verna knew she wasn’t going to find anything but trouble if she stayed here, so she followed Ben back to the Gryffindor common room.

13 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) IX -Modern!Shirbert

Words: 2,967

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Nine: Captain Shirley and Prince Blythe.

Try not

forget me.

Gilbert woke up with the sea breeze hitting his face, the rotten fish also accompanying him on this journey, though he had no time for feeling sick, he had to find his way to Captain Shirley's room. It was easy if we were talking about finding it, harder if you take into account the fact that no one else could see him enter.

Why was he doing this in the first place? Easy.

Captain Shirley was the most vicious human to ever sail across the seven seas, and she had stolen something valuable from Gilbert's father, who was none other that the King of Prince Edward Island. Gilbert, being the impulsive young prince he was, decided to infiltrate the lines of this redheaded pirate in order to retrieve his father's treasure and take it back to safety.

There was a slight issue with this plan, though. Gilbert was infatuated with Shirley, and each day on that ship only meant a day more closer to irrevocably fall in love with her.

As he silently moved through the dark and cold night, Gilbert heard most of the tripulation downstairs, getting drunk or loudly snoring on their hammocks, he saw the dim candle light coming from the door in front of him, and he quietly opened it.

That was it, all he had to do was to kill the Captain and take back his father's crown back to where it belonged. He entered, the enticing smell of wine and dry flowers filling his lungs, he tightened his grip on the dagger he was holding and urged himself to move forward.

There was a curtain dividing one corner of the room, it looked light and thin, and the shadow of Captain Shirley was delicately drawn across it, she appeared to be laying on some kind of fancy bed for one, though he could hear a strange noise similar to moving water coming from it.

As he stepped closer, he heard her low breathing, and confident that she wouldn't wake up on time to avoid her imminent ending, he decided to take a moment before ending her life.

However, as he peaked through one side of the fabric covering her bed, Gilbert's eyes widened in disbelief. He didn't know how he managed not to scream, or even fall to his knees and cry, begging God for mercy and forgiveness after what he saw:

Captain Shirley was indeed fast asleep, but she wasn't on a bed, she was on a wide bathtub, long enough so it could cover most of her body, water was spilling thanks to the movements that the ship suffered from the nightly waves, but down where her legs were supposed to be, all Gilbert could see was a fish tail.

But that couldn't be a fish tail, because it was attatched to a woman! Or that could not possibly be a woman, that had to be... a siren, a mermaid.

Gilbert's stomach churned in horror as he remembered the horrid tales he'd heard during childhood, but he also found comfort in finding the reason why his heart had fallen victim of this creature's looks. It was obvious now, no human could have eyes like hers.

Though he was terrified beyong belief, he took in at every little detail he could catch, it isn’t every day that you get to see a real mermaid:

Her hair looked like fire, one that could live underwater and swing back and forth under the tides, her skin was white and freckled, like a snowy field with dry leaves of its trees and bushes. Her tail, though intimidating and hard to get used to, was of a charming pale blue, like looking at an early sky forever reflecting on her scales.

In her body Gilbert found the elements coexisting and sharing their home within every inch. Could she really be considered a monster when all she was built of was pure beauty?

Deep and raspy voices from outside the room caused Gilbert to quickly found his way to the door, waiting against it ready for any sort of attack that never came.

"We do it tonight," Said one of the voices. "Captain Shirley's a good leader all right, but she ain't gonna last forever. Remember the rumors."

"Rumors are rumors," The other man replied. "Do you really believe that she's some kind of creature that will abandon us as soon as we get too close to Green Gables Island? Wake up, Sloane! Mermaids aren't real!"

Gilbert gulped, his eyes going back to the curtain covering Shirley's real identity.

"Creature or no creature, we're taking her out," the other growled, "she's bad news. Willy and I have taken a decision, and the rest agrees, we're getting rid of Shirley, she's cursed."

"You're just a filthy traitor, that's it! Don't think I believe your little story, we know you're angry because she refused your advances, you're desperate to show her a lesson, aren't you? Heh! She'll have you begging for mercy in no–"

There was a sudden wrestling sound between the two man and a body crashing against the very same door Gilbert was standing, he prayed for Captain Shirley to be a heavy sleeper.

"I'd keep my opinions to myself, Jerry boy, if you don't want to end up at the bottom of the sea, sharing the same fate as our captain... she may give you a nice treatment, but I assure you, sirens get cranky when they starve."

Gilbert listened as Jerry pushed his way out of Sloane's grip and waited until they sounded far away. They were going to kill the captain and this had nothing to do with no curse, it was merely about a man having no honor, but what could he expect from a pirate?

New plan, he was going to search for the crown and then leave the rest to the tripulation, surely the mutiny was the perfect excuse in case some objects went missing from the Captain's room.

Something was bothering him though, and it was his moral compass.

Was he really going to let the tripulation kill her like that?

Well you were going to kill her moments ago, He thought bitterly.

Drowning in uncertainty Gilbert got closer to the bathtub, watching her lay there with her eyes closed. Only then he realized she was fully naked, he hadn't processed it since the fish tail was far more distracting, the scales only reach her sides and covered some parts of her chest, but she still had a human chest. Embarrassed and overwhelmed Gilbert turned around and weighed his options.

He could walk out of there with his father's treasure and never look back, or he could help the woman that was known across the world as this wickedly intelligent, viciously skilled pirate, survive the mutiny and have a new helping hand on his side that would assure him to return home safe and sound.

He convinced himself that this was a matter of clever negotiation and nothing else. No feelings of attachments whatsoever.

So he woke her up.

"Captain?" His voice came out weak and fearful, so he tried again. "Captain Shirley!"

Her eyes snapped open, quickly grabbing the gun that was hidden on the side of the tub Gilbert couldn't see. He flinched and closed his eyes, ready to get killed, but nothing came.

He opened his eyes and found the gun very close to his nose, the Captain's hand was unwavering and her eyes resembled the most vicious of hurricanes.

"What are you doing?" She asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"Good evening, Captain," Gilbert gulped, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm her to save you."

“Save me?" She let out sarcastically. Not even caring that he'd found her in such a vulnerable state, if anything, now that she was awake Gilbert was having a hard time trying to remember why did he ever thought she ever needed help.

"Sloane and company are planning a mutiny, they’ll attack later tonight and if you don't follow me they'll kill you."

"Oh, please," She replied. "Are you really expecting me to believe that, boy?"

"I'm only telling the truth," He frowned. "I can't do anything to convince you besides maybe the fact that I'm holding a dagger, like you can clearly see, and I didn't try to cut your throat before waking you up, did I?"

"No, because you're not that stupid," He felt a sting of annoyance at her retort. "Sloane's been on this ship for years, why would he try to kill me now?"

"I heard him speak to Jerry... he uh– I think his interests may be a bit... compromised… after the last talk you two had."

Shirley wasn't one to blush at such bold statements, not from embarrassment anyway. However, anger was a whole different thing. Her face shifted from understanding to tension, to a new calculating glare.

"I don't know you," She tightened the grip on her gun. "This is not the way men like you are meant to act. Who are you?"

"Men like me?" He asked back.

"Pirates," She spat. "In all my years of leading the Cordelia, no man has ever showed a glimpse of decency. Let alone to a woman they barely know."

"You're my captain," He replied in confusion. "Aren't I supposed to respect you?"

She blinked, her frown only increasing as her tail swung to a side, leaving the water and filling the room with a splashing noise. Almost instantly two perfect and fuctioning legs were hanging from the edge of the tub, and now she looked definitely naked to him.

Gilbert turned around instantly, the Captain let out a short and charming laugh.

"Boy you do not turn your back when someone's holding a gun in front of you!" She exclaimed. "You must be truly too new in this scene, why in the hell are you mingling with pirates?"

"Why is a siren leading them to victories?" He still has his back to her. "Aren't you supposed to... uh..."

"Finish that sentence, boy."

"I would rather not to," He said quietly.

He didn't hear her move, but somehow she'd circled the tub and was now standing in front of him again (thankfully now wearing a silky robe to cover her human form), the gun finding its way to his chest, and the cold metal causing him to jump back.

"I said," She repeated calmly, "finish that sentence."

"I'm sorry, Captain," He started, trying not to sweat. Were mermaids capable of hearing a man's heartbeat? "My father used to tell me stories about the sirens and their... unusual habits."

"Unusual indeed," She smirked. "All true as well."

Okay, now he was scared.

"All those treasures, all those stones you humans keep like they belong to you…” She started, “They all come from nature, and some of them belonged to us first. Some of my peers decided that eating the humans were the easiest way to get rid of you but you’re smart enough to learn not to repeat past mistakes. Soon enough you were avoiding our islands, and we were abandoned to our luck by our rulers. I'd had enough, if you can fight it, you can at least learn to control it, so I did.” Her eyes had a bit of sadness in them that she quickly covered with her usual glare.

"Sloane knows what you are, he’ll kill you…"

"Sloane was an accident," She frowned. "That nasty rat! Thought that after all these years under my protection he had at least a bit of loyalty towards me, but you humans have flimsy minds and those pesky emotions... I should've seen it coming, you're all liars. He got obsessed with who I really was and when I told him I cannot have those human feelings I guess he took it as an insult. Men are completely empty-headed.”

He was certainly insulted by this, but she still had her gun pointing at him so he decided not to make any comments.

"Why are you helping me?" She asked. "If you, like Sloane, are expecting to gain my favor..."

"No," He quickly responded. “It’s… it’s true, I'm not a pirate. I’m not like them.”

The hand holding the gun lowered, but only by half an inch.

"What are you?"

"I'm the son of King Blythe."

She froze in place, her eyes widening in shock and then... she laughed. She laughed and lowered her gun, walking away from him.

"A Prince!" She said in amusement. "Are you trying to teach dear father a lesson? Is this your way of showing him you’re not just a boy?"

"You stole his crown," He replied with more courage than the one he actually felt. "I'm here to take it back."

"So you were going to kill me," She smiled. "See? All of you, liars."

"I'm not!" He defended. "Listen, just give me the crown, we can make a deal."

"I don't make any deals with fake royalty," She eyed him up. "A human prince comes into my ship and demands I give him back the treasures his people stole from others. Not only that, but he promises he won't kill me if I cooperate! How charming must be, to have such an empty and conceited mind…”

Gilbert was about to answer when a lamp was thrown into the room through one of the windows, shattered glass spread across the floor along with flames and Shirley's mouth fell open in outrage.

"I told you!" Gilbert yelled in irritation. "We've lost precious time! It's too late now!"

"Get out of my way!" She yelled over the banging sounds her former men trying to break the door. She ran over to where her sword was and took it with her dominant hand while the other held her gun expertly.

"You're gonna need my help!” Gilbert insisted.

"Oh please, pretty boy," She scoffed. “You know nothing about me."

"I've done proper training, I can fight!"

"You won't last!"

"You have no one else!" They were shouting at this point, the door was going down splinter by splinter and lightining was falling from the sky, announcing the callous storm. "Give me a sword!"

"You'll kill me!" She replied. Her hair was still damp and every time she moved tiny drops would land on Gilbert's clothes. "I won't die like this!"

"I won't kill you if you give me the crown!" He growled. "You can keep everything else, I don't care for it! You're right, we steal, that's all we do, but I need that crown before winter!"

"Why?!"

"Because the King is dying!"

A harsh bang and one of the handgrips fell. The fire was spreading quickly and it was her against everyone on that ship. That could easily change though, she just had to trust the prince. Shirley groaned in frustration and ran over to were she kept her extra weapons, when she came back, it was with a second sword that she offered to him hastily.

"I'm going to regret this," She grumbled.

The door finally gave in, and as the dust and storm made its way into the room, she asked him:

"Ready, Prince of Blythe?"

"Yes," He lied.

As a large group of men ran into the room holding swords, guns, and knives, a dazzling lighting turned everything white, blinding him briefly.

____________________

Gilbert woke up.

Outside his room a second thunder caught his attention, there was a storm outside but he'd forgotten to close the window before going to bed and now the breeze was hitting his face fully. He got up, slightly dizzy from his sleepy state and with the memories of his dreams making everything confusing.

He touched his desk on his way back as if to make sure he was in his real room. The light from the street illuminated the place where Gilbert had been sleeping moments ago. Half of his covers were a little wet from the time the rain started and he was knocked unconscious by all the time he'd spent walking around town with Winne.

He pulled the covers out of his bed and left them on the floor, Mary would certainly be pissed the next morning if those covers ended up smelling, but he was too tired to care, he'd wash them later.

He crawled his way back and fell heavily on his pillow, the smell of dry roses raising like a faint reminder of this other world, this other life he'd shared with this striking redheaded pirate.

"The mermaid…” He mumbled, half asleep. His eyes widened, Gilbert sat up abruptly and repeated, this time in a much more shocked tone, “Pirate!"

____________________

"I'm..." Anne mumbled, half asleep. "I'm... Pirate!"

Her eyes opened lazily in the dark, her own voice had woken her up though she didn't remember what she'd said. In her phone the time said four in the morning and the sound coming from her window told her it was raining outside. It was too dark to see anything but what the lightning showed her from time to time whenever it blasted across the nightsky.

Anne sighed in contentment, this was her favorite weather to wake up to apart from that early morning bliss she could get from hearing the birds singing outside on the cherry tree every summer. What a treasure it was, to be able to experience these kinds of sounds and smells, and colors. How sad that the king wouldn't get to witness those in the near future...

Anne frowned as she caught her own thought. What was she talking about?

Her dream of course! -She turned once more on the bed, hiding under the covers- She's not going to remember all this tomorrow, of that she's sure… but what a nice dream though, the Prince was specially endearing.

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @fuckthisshitimoutyall @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @little-boats-on-a-lake @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

#twoidiots writing #anne with an e fanfic #anne with an e #anne shirley x gilbert blythe #anne shirley cuthbert #Gilbert Blythe #awae #shirbert #shirbert fanfic #DV fic

11 notes · View notes

talesfromthepayload · 4 years

Text

The Fall (Part Three)

A/N: Soooooo I really decided to just post this part because I was sick of staring at it. There’s going to be a lot of world building used, considering there’s not a whole lot to go off of. You might also notice some video game logic bent to fit more properly into the world. Again, this work is entirely self indulgent, and I pulled a lot of inspiration from Tony Stark. Also, again, this work will have romantic themes with three different characters before the inevitable split in the story, where you’re welcome to read whichever ending you so desire.

Jack had a lot to think about.

Being the Strike Commander of Overwatch, most days he didn’t even have time to ponder his own thoughts. Ana had suggested he take more time to himself, but he couldn’t justify just up and leaving for hours at a time, so he made his compromise in the form of you. He would be training you in the mornings, which might not sound like a break to most, but it was a step in the right direction.

The base was mostly quiet around this time, nearly five in the morning, and it was far more relaxing than the normal chatter and conversation that echoed through the halls during the day. He let out a sigh, stretching his stiff muscles in preparation. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately, but he knew that neither had Gabriel.

Thoughts of his friend brought a frown to his face. The two of them had always had their own opinions, but lately they’d been at each other’s throats. He should try to schedule something so they could relax and have a normal friendship for one night.

“Please tell me training comes with breakfast?” Your voice was lower than normal, filled with sleep still, but the bags under your eyes told him you didn’t get much of it.

“I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much?” He inquired, though he knew the answer.

You shook your head, lifting your arms wide into the air as you stretched. You were in the standard issue Overwatch sweatpants, same as him, but instead of wearing the shirt that went with it, you were in just a sports bra. Your wrist housed that same little watch device you were wearing the previous day.

“Never been one for sleep,” you admitted, though there was a decidedly haunted look in your eyes.

It surprised him, if he were being honest. You seemed so young, like the world hadn’t left you scarred yet, but the look you held just then made a different statement. Once again, he found himself wishing to know more.

“Gabriel wasn’t too hard on you, was he?” He joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

One corner of your lips curled up.

“If anything I was too hard on him,” you laughed.

Jack definitely didn’t doubt that. You were quick witted, and he had one hell of a feeling that you didn’t take any shit from Gabe.

“I figured we’d start with a lesson in rank and etiquette,” he said after a short pause, leading you towards a more comfortable, and private, lounge. “Then we’ll start on physical training.”

“Well, Strike Commander,” you emphasized the title, “I’m a quick study.”

He breathed out a laugh.

“I don’t doubt it.” He took a seat opposite you and powered up his holopad so you could see the information as well. “How well do you know the chain of command?”

You leaned back, letting yourself relax comfortably before bothering to answer.

“Not at all,” you replied, shrugging. Then, with a mischievous twinkle, you added: “We could make it a tad more interesting.”

He didn’t shoot down your idea right away, but left it open ended for you to continue if you so chose. You did.

“Every question I answer correctly, I get to ask you one.”

There was a challenge in the gentle furrow of your brow, and boy did he want to rise to it.

“Fine,” he conceded, “But you have to answer too.”

You sucked in a breath and chewed on your lip thoughtfully, an action that was way too tantalizing for the early morning.

“Okay, deal.”

“Overwatch chain of command,” he restated, “What is it?”

There was a hint of that Strike Commander voice back into his tone, but he was surprisingly playful.

“Strike Commander,” you answered, pausing thoughtfully.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He asked after a momentary pause.

You held your hands up in surrender.

“I’m trying to remember from when I was looking at everyone’s files,” you muttered almost unconsciously.

He made a noise, one of both surprise and indignance.

“You shouldn’t make a habit of hacking into the database.”

The smile that took over your lips could only be defined as sultry. You looked up from beneath your lashes, quirking a brow.

“I suggest better security then.”

He opened his mouth to retort, though with what he wasn’t entirely sure. You beat him to it.

“Next are the commanders, then the heads of fields, captains, and lieutenants.”

He closed his lips, offering a grunt of affirmation and not commenting as he awaited your question. You didn’t make him wait for long.

“Where are you from?” The question was basic and straightforward.

He was genuinely surprised by the one you chose. Most people would delve further into his personal life, or even his career. Instead, you went for a question that was fairly easy to find the answer to on your own.

“Indiana,” he replied, leaning forward to meet your stare. “You’re telling me you hacked into Overwatch and found all of our secret operations but not my birthplace?”

You released a breath, splaying your hands out as you did so.

“I looked at files on Overwatch and Blackwatch, but I figured I’d rather learn personal details from the man himself.”

He ran his tongue along his teeth. It was so hard to decipher you. Despite having more information than most people, and far more than you should’ve, you kept personal details private.

“What about you?”

Your eyes crinkled up the smallest bit, and he knew you were reliving fond memories in your mind’s eye. He often romanticized memories of his home too, even though deep down he knew he’d never be happy there again.

“Massachusetts,” you relented, meeting his gaze with something less intense and more playful. “Right outside of Boston.”

“Long way from home,” he commented. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he couldn’t really imagine you being the kind of person that was content to stay in one place.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, a soft laugh warming the air around you.

“Overwatch divisions?” He questioned, trying not the uplifting tunes of your laughter linger for too long.

You were back to pulling your lip into your mouth as you thought. Jack nearly pinched himself at the thoughts running through his mind at such an innocent gesture. Gabriel had been right about one thing: he needed to loosen up and get laid. He was getting wound up way too easily.

“Engineering,” you started gently, “Medical, strike teams, and…” you dragged the word out with a dramatic wink, “covert ops.”

He nodded, fighting back the smirk that threatened to appear.

It was odd, having someone who wasn’t already familiar with the inner workings of Overwatch converse with him. Almost everyone he talked to nowadays were overly interested in every small facet of Overwatch.

“Why Overwatch?”

Your question was simple, but there was a genuine curiosity in your eyes. He swallowed, and despite better judgment telling him he should stick to the same story he always did, he found himself talking.

“I wanted to help people,” he said, voice faraway as he remembered the early days of the Omnic Crisis.

He was so young then, naive of how the world worked, just wanting to make a difference. It was his duty, as well as his privilege to help those who needed it. Until it wasn’t.

“And then there was nothing else.” It was a hard admission, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “War was all I knew, so I kept fighting. Never stopped.”

There was a weight that rested itself upon his shoulders, the whole world throwing itself in his hands.

A smaller, warmer weight settled upon his hand, and his shining blue eyes moved up to meet your gaze. There was a sort of understanding passing between the two of you, and he couldn’t quite grasp why. Nothing in your file suggested that you should be a kindred spirit, but the look in your eyes made him very aware of the fact that you were.

“Your turn,” he reminded you gently, making no move to pull his hand away.

You relaxed into the contact as you thought about your answer. The roguish looks and troublesome smiles faded. There was something so much deeper that caused you such pain, yet he couldn’t decode it.

“My dad used to be my hero.” The suddenness of your voice after a long period of silence nearly startled him. “He was special ops for the US Army, 151st.”

“Battle of New York,” Jack muttered, the name ringing a bell.

You nodded gently.

During the Omnic Crisis, there had been many different locations hit. The United States were lucky enough to be spared in most places, but it hit New York City hard. For six weeks the city was unreachable. Many people thought it’d never be recovered, but one division of soldiers managed to sweep through and reclaim the city in three nights. Jack had met a few of the members involved, even recruited some, but a great deal of them ended up sacrificing their lives.

They were war heroes.

More confusion came with your statement. Why in the world would you keep something like that off of your record?

“I wanted to be just like him,” you continued, “Or at least someone he would be proud of.”

“Where is he?”

It was all Jack could ask. He didn’t know you well enough to try and delve further into the past. A safe option, he realized.

“Dead.”

There was a bitterness on your tongue, like the words themselves were poison. Despite the questions he wanted to ask, he didn’t. It was something you’d tell him later, or not at all, but not something he could demand.

“I thought basic training was like,” you gestured vaguely in the air around you, finally removing your hand from his, “exercise.”

The frown that had wanted to show at the loss of contact was replaced with a wry grin.

“It is,” he conceded, “but you also need to know procedures. Do you even know who to salute?”

The morning carried on in much the same manner. He had learned a lot of small details about the person you were through your answers, but it was very obvious that you kept a lot close to your chest. He did his best not to pry, and you respected the unspoken boundary as well.

Even through the strenuous fitness regime that Jack had laid out for you, you continued with the playful attitude. It was very obvious that you were winded, and exhausted, but the joviality never faded.

As the few hours he’d carved out of the day to focus on your training came to an end, he found himself looking forward to the next one.

You, however, were not.

Yes, spending time with Jack had been nice. He was good company. You’d found yourself really warming up to him, just as you had to a few others in the facility already. The conversations came easily, and despite the big reputation, he was a genuine man.

You didn’t like all of the running he made you do though.

Sure, you understood it was necessary and all that, but the man was built like a friggin truck and he expected you to keep up. Your wit wasn’t lost to exhaustion, and the jokes were a never ending stream of thinly veiled complaints.

Still, after you finished, you gave him a sweet smile and a promise you’d be back there bright and early the next day.

As soon as you were free from your morning obligation, you nearly sprinted to the cafeteria. It was still early enough for some recruits to be just getting their breakfast, and you hopped in line with them. If your sudden appearance made them question anything, they didn’t voice it. Once you piled your plate with as much food as you could hope to eat, you found a familiar silhouette tucked far into the back corner of the room.

Deciding it was your best option, you took a seat at the same table.

“Sorry for attacking you,” you tried, sheepishly.

The man leveled you with a stare. He wasn’t eating, just waiting, and it seemed you interrupted his time to do so. He didn’t look particularly hostile, but was in no way friendly either.

“Likewise,” was his short reply.

You decided it wasn’t anything personal and began digging into your food, letting silence permeate the air between the two of you. Genji was his name, if you remembered correctly. (And you most certainly did. You were a genius, after all.) He was another Blackwatch agent. When you’d been snooping around Overwatch’s files, you’d found a fair bit of data in regards to his cybernetic enhancements.

You’d made it about halfway through your meal when a low whistle sounded right by your ear.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” the smooth drawl of Jesse McCree practically vibrated through his chest.

“Morning, cowboy,” you greeted, a smile finding its place on your lips.

He sat beside you with his own mountain of food, looking positively delighted to have found you when he did.

“So darlin’,” the look he gave you was anything but innocent, “What brings you to Blackwatch?”

“My genius intellect and devilish charm,” you quipped, adding a wink to lament the idea.

McCree’s laugh was hearty and loud. He laughed with his whole body, and you found it absolutely infectious.

“Are you joining us for trainin’ today?”

He looked hopeful, and before you could grant him with an answer, another body sat itself at the table.

“She doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter,” the voice grumbled, belonging to one tired looking commander.

You clicked your mouth shut with a sheepish smile.

“Guess Gabe answered that one for me,” you relented, toying with your watch.

“How come she doesn’t get in trouble for not calling you by your rank?” McCree whined, stabbing his fork extra hard into his breakfast.

“She will,” Gabriel promised darkly.

“Kinky,” you practically purred, leaning forward to meet his eyes.

Once more, Jesse laughed. His arm slung across your back as he pulled you into him.

“I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, darlin’.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, pulling away to regain some amount of dignity.

“I’m never going to have time to finish my thesis,” you complained, taking a final bite of your food.

Your eyes had been far too big for your mouth, and there was no way in hell you could finish it.

“I thought you finished your degree already,” Gabriel asked with a raised brow.

“Well,” you drawled excitedly, “Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?” McCree echoed, bumping your shoulder.

“I have three PhDs, I’m just working on my fourth.”

“That wasn’t on your file,” Gabriel grunted.

“Holy hell,” McCree commented.

Even Genji looked a fair bit surprised. Your question of education had always been a bit of a touchy subject. Truth be told, you’d only stayed in school for as long as you had and continued your education because you didn’t know what you wanted to do. Before the offer of Overwatch, nothing felt particularly fulfilling.

“We all have our hobbies,” you flashed a smile, tucking your downtrodden thoughts into the back of your mind.

“Does that mean I get to see the suit?” Jesse inquired, brows waggling.

Your gaze moved from Jesse to Genji. Genji feigned disinterest, but you could see the way he angled his body closer, like he was invested in the conversation even if he didn’t want to be. Then you looked at Gabriel. He was all hard edges and stern looks.

“Oh, honey,” the smile tugging at your lips was downright sinful, and two of the three men before you drank it in, “You can’t handle it.”

McCree practically snorted, clapping his hand on your back as he did so. Gabriel, however, held your gaze, brows raised in a challenge you weren’t quite sure you posed.

“What about you, six shooter,” you patted the holster Jesse kept his gun in, “You sure you don’t want an upgrade?”

“Peacekeeper is as good as it gets,” he stated proudly.

You puffed out a breath. By your standards, his precious gun was a fair bit outdated. You wanted to help Overwatch in every facet, but you had a feeling that too many of them were attached to their current weaponry to accept an upgrade.

“And you,” you nodded your head towards Gabriel, then added as an afterthought, “sir?”

His eyes flashed at your use of the title, though you couldn’t quite place whether it was annoyance or amusement. You decided the latter from the wry smile that pulled at his lips.

“Impress me,” he muttered, “and then we’ll talk.”

His voice was low, almost as if concerned others were listening in, yet oddly comforting. You turned to the last member of the Blackwatch trio with a hopeful plea.

“Ninja boy?”

“I have my own weapons.”

You didn’t miss the hint of aggression in his tone, nor did you miss the sharp look Gabriel shot him. A bit of a spitfire, then. You wondered why, or even who he was, really. Despite having access to every single one of Overwatch’s secrets at your disposal, you didn’t care to use the information to learn about the people you surrounded yourself with. If they wanted to tell you something, they would, otherwise they were free to their own privacy.

“Maybe I should go see Torbjorn again today,” you suggested to Gabriel. “He would appreciate my offer.”

Gabriel scoffed.

The day prior, Gabriel had actually taken you on the tour he promised. You’d been wide eyed running through the facility, taking in everything they had to offer. Few places impressed you as much as the engineering labs. You could spend your whole lifetime there and never be bored. Torbjorn Lindholm, as well as his friend Reinhardt Wilhelm, had been there to greet you. They were very friendly, and very receptive of the ideas you shared in the short time you had before Gabriel dragged you off to continue familiarizing yourself with the base.

“You’d never leave,” he commented dryly.

You waggled your brows.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Ya couldn’t see my charming face anymore,” Jesse gave you a smolder that you were sure had swayed the hearts and minds of many people before you.

He was met with a leisure shrug and flick of your wrist.

“Oh no, how would I ever survive that?” You drawled sarcastically.

The cowboy in front of you looked offended, and the expression he was toying with was somewhere between childish and affronted.

“Let’s get to training before you hurt his ego more,” Gabriel chuckled lowly, ushering the three of you out of the cafeteria.

You used the short walk to the Blackwatch training facility as an opportunity to scope out more of the base, as well as the little group you walked with. Gabriel walked with a stance that demanded respect, and you could tell he got it from the salutes of recruits you walked by. McCree moved confidently, but lazily. He looked like he had all the time in the world, and knew damn well nobody would tell him otherwise.

Genji was more guarded. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flit to the various people in the hall. He was on edge, like everyone was a threat. Your heart went out to him then, because you had a good feeling something happened to make him so jaded and cautious.

The amount of people lingering nearby dwindled the closer you got to the Blackwatch facility. There was nobody at your actual destination, and a part of you was thankful for the quiet. It was easier for you to concentrate.

The training facility itself was large, four towering walls enclosing a space with maneuverable terrain. A massive window spanned one side, overlooking a portion of the quieter side of the Swiss base. The rising sun lit the room with warm rays, highlighting the various training bots that could be used.

“Jack’s going to be doing your standard weapons training,” Gabriel mentioned as Jesse and Genji spread out on the mats, obviously familiar with the area. “I figured you’d be more comfortable if you worked on the suit with us.”

You hummed noncommittally, wide eyes scanning the vast expanse of the training room. You’d never been afforded a luxury quite like this. Your excitement wasn’t far off the levels it’d been upon your discovery of the engineering labs. The university had been backing your research during your time there, but they had a pretty strict budget. Overwatch, it seemed, didn’t.

“If that’s all it takes to amaze you, darlin’, you should see my-”

McCree was abruptly interrupted by a quick strike from Genji. The cyborg ninja held nothing back either, nearly taking the cowboy off his feet in one hit.

Jesse was fast to defend himself, the two of them passing blows back and forth.

“Quite a team you got, commander.”

You said it with as much cheek as you could, and you didn’t miss the raised brow of one Gabriel Reyes. That grumpy exterior of his really wasn’t fooling you one bit.

“Ready for round two?” He asked in reply, not waiting for you as he assumed a fighting stance.

You smirked, pressing the button on your watch to activate your suit. The nanotech crawled up and down your arm, encompassing your body with a sleek titanium layer as it did so. The helmet dropped and clicked into place, lighting up with the information from your self made UI.

Genji and McCree had stopped sparring to investigate as you resumed a more defensive position.

“Again?” Gabriel huffed.

“She looks cooler than you,” McCree mentioned to Genji, elbowing him as he did so.

Your eyes swivelled towards the pair just in time to see Genji shove him to the side. An error in judgement on your part, as Gabriel took the momentary distraction to rush in.

Sparring with the commander of Blackwatch wasn’t something you would consider fun in any sense. He was undeniably strong, unbelievably fast, and he played dirty. Despite you being suited up, you were still fairly evenly matched without the use of the repulsor beams.

It was both frustrating and refreshing.

On one hand, you did want an opportunity to show off a bit. Your suits were some of the most important work you’d ever done, and they were impressive. Getting beaten repeatedly by Gabriel Reyes did not make them look remotely advanced.

On the other, it did give you a chance to really evaluate some improvements in hand-to-hand: both for yourself and the suit.

Eventually, however, you couldn’t take the repeated failures. You were ready to go out on a win, so naturally, you played dirtier.

As you lunged forward, you disengaged the back of the suit, allowing the armor to fly towards the commander. You, during the engagement, slipped behind him and moved in for the attack. Unfortunately, Gabriel Reyes was much smarter than you gave him credit for.

“I’m not falling for that twice,” he deadpanned, turning to meet your blow.

You stepped back in surprise, exhaling in relief when the titanium arm of your suit stopped his fist short.

Upon your departure as the primary pilot, the UI you designed took over the controls. It used a complex processing system to determine attack patterns and defenses that best supported you. Though the technology was something you’d only recently begun to tinker with, it had advanced a great deal, and was actively engaging Reyes.

Some might call it cheating when you, too, joined in the spar, but you called it fair. He was a super soldier after all, and he’d had decades of training in all different types of fighting.

“You really are Blackwatch material,” Gabriel conceded, backing off from the suit.

He watched with open curiosity as the nanotech dissolved back into the form of your watch, leaving nothing in its absence.

“I am pretty impressive,” you agreed, stretching out as you did so.

Gabriel didn’t look particularly pleased with you, despite claiming you were “Blackwatch material”.

“You hesitate too much,” he finally commented, leveling you with a serious stare.

You cocked your head to the side.

“Hesitate?” You repeated, not quite sure what he was insinuating. As far as you were concerned, you’d given him a run for his money.

“Hesitate,” he said another time, confirming you heard him correctly. “It’s kill or be killed on the field, and you’re spending far too long deciding on how to strike.”

The amusement slipped from your face as his eyes darkened. Surely he didn’t mean…?

“Blackwatch doesn’t really…” You paused, the furrow in your brow growing. “I mean, you guys aren’t assassins, right?”

Your gaze had moved from the tense commander to the two Blackwatch agents, hoping they’d laugh it off and say it was a joke. Overwatch wasn’t a judge, jury, and executioner. Surely, even something as off the grid as Blackwatch wouldn’t actually be killing people, right? The files you’d read had never mentioned killing.

McCree rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, puffing a breath through his teeth. Genji, however, remained unmoving by your suggestion.

“It’s a choice we have to make sometimes,” Gabriel grunted, not sounding particularly pleased with the action, but not really seeming guilty either.

Your entire body turned towards him.

“So you-you what? You want me to kill someone?”

You’d nearly stumbled over the word ‘kill’ like it was poison itself, and not just a long list of words you’d become familiar with in your life.

“You need to be prepared to,” he warned, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

Realistically, you knew combat was going to be a necessity if you decided to join. But fighting in a war was a little different than murdering in cold blood. Blackwatch was supposed to be the intel collectors. They were the undercover operations, not the assassins.

“I’m not,” you paused, spitting the word out, “killing anybody.”

“Hey now,” Jesse interrupted, cutting off the commander before he had a chance to interject. “Why don’t I show you some of the places our old antisocial, stick-in-the-mud commander doesn’t know about?”

You opened your mouth to vent your frustrations, but McCree beat you to it.

“Could be good for you, gettin’ a chance to really find your feet here.”

Your pride wanted you to speak up, but you weren’t entirely sure what you would say. An argument was obviously not on the table, as Gabriel had been rather blunt. He wasn’t the person to talk to about that particular topic, so you decided it best if you shelf the subject for the moment.

Perhaps Jack would be the better person to talk to about it.

You clenched your jaw and nodded your head, excusing yourself from the room to follow the click of Jesse’s spurs. You weren’t quite sure where he was taking you, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Had you made the right decision by jumping headlong into an organization you didn’t know nearly as much about as you thought you did?

Even if you had, you weren’t going to let your oversight slide so easily.

Your frown went unnoticed as McCree pointed out every room and their function as you passed.

Tonight, you decided, you would find every dirty secret Overwatch had ever tried to hide. Good or bad, you needed to know just what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

#soldier 76 x reader #jesse mccree x reader #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #jack morrison x reader #jack morrison imagine #soldier 76 imagine #jesse mccree imagine #reaper imagine #gabriel reyes imagine #overwatch imagine #overwatch x reader #this is gonna be a wild ride #so strap in kiddos #because we're going on an emotional rollercoaster

57 notes · View notes

that-damn-girl · 4 years

Text

And A Kiss To Hide

(Oneshot)

Pairing: Stevebucky

Words: 2800+

Type: Fluff. Making out. Kissing to hide faces trope. Mutual pinning.

Warnings: Making out. Language. Not proof read, sorry for the mistakes you find.

Summary: Steve was never as good at escaping trouble than he'd been at finding it. As he and Bucky try to hide from HYDRA's goons, they are enter a compromising position with their faces inches, rather centimetres apart.

A/N: This was inspired by the artwork below made by @its42kio . A huge thank you to them for letting me use it! Please check out their blog for more such beautiful fanart. Also, I’ve used It’s Been A Long Long Time as a song prompt. Hope you like it!

Chaotic. That's precisely how Bucky felt. Inside and out. He didn't know why or how he was in this predicament. Didn't know what he'd do now. Didn't know if the odds were in his side today. And Bucky didn't like not knowing about things around him. He hated feeling clueless. Absolutely despised it.

It didn't make him feel safe; not being a few steps ahead of the opponent or the danger which lay ahead him. It meant there was a flaw in the planning. And it scared him, because the Winter Soldier was nothing if not perfect in planning and execution. It was ingrained in his nature, in each and every cell of his being to be so.

A blast of chilled air hit his baseball cap covered face as he entered through the automatic doors. Despite having entered the cool conditioned air of the mall, Bucky still felt hot. The shop lifted jacket he'd been wearing over his full body tactical gear did little to let his body heat escape after all the running. Steve was much the same beside him.

The lights inside shone brighter than the cloudy sun outside. Murmurs felt louder than when he'd speed walked past the pedestrians on the pavement. His own heart beat in his ears though, blocking out most other noises except for the constant thump thump of footsteps behind him he were trying to escape.

Eyes sharp and focused, Bucky looked around for a way to hide if not evade those HYDRA goons. People of all sizes with different kinds of dressing drifted here and there, creating a jumble of colours in his vision. His eyes roamed from one bright and flashy store to another, until it landed on the fire exit at the far corner of the building.

He turned to Steve and saw his own idea reflected in Steve's eyes. Face all grim and serious, Steve gave little nod to Bucky. Long legs clad in combat boots took slow yet purposeful strides towards the red large double doors. They tried to mix in with the crowd and not make their destination obvious.

Steve was never as good at escaping trouble than he'd been at finding it.

One look over his shoulder and he saw the goons coming their way. They hadn't been recognised yet, but he suspected the misfortune wasn't far away. Specially if they continued towards the only other exit like they were. The microchip they'd stolen felt heavy in his utility belt.

Scanning the options around him, Steve took a hold of Bucky's forearm and dragged him to a narrow stretch of wall underneath the escalator fixed near the wall. He hadn't thought things through; just did what his brain deemed convenient in that moment. There wasn't a supply closet like Steve had hoped. But he couldn't go out in the open and search for another place to veil their presence. It was too late for that. He cursed under his breath.

Two bulky men dressed in dark couldn't hide with an off white backdrop, Steve knew that. They were still visible from certain angles of the middle open area of the mall, but could be found only when inspected with a focused eye. Another look over his shoulder and Steve found quite a number of goons standing in many of those 'certain angles'.

Without hesitation, Steve manoeuvred Bucky to make his back press to the wall and stood in front of him, so that his own dimensions shield Bucky's and their faces would be hidden. Steve brought an arm up and placed it beside Bucky's head on the wall to block it's view from the side, unknowingly causing him to lean a tad bit into his best friend.

Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me

It wasn't just a tad beat for Bucky though, who was very aware of standing chest to chest with Steve; Steve's bulk pressing Bucky's into the wall. He could feel the rise and fall of Steve's voluminous pecs against him. The tip of their noses almost touched each other. His mouths were parted as he breathed hard. Bucky wasn't too sure if it was because he'd been running a few seconds ago or the blond man standing so close to him.

How long had Bucky been dreaming about something like this; praying for it even. Steve was his best friend, yes, but also so, so much more than that. He'd had to keep his feelings suppressed in the older days. The past was ruthless in this regard. Though now he didn't have restrictions to date whoever he wanted, his insecurities were barriers enough.

Sure, there were lingering touches and stolen glances every so often, but he didn't think Steve thought much about it. It'd been the same way since before Bucky was seventeen. The only difference was that while these gestures meant the presence of a strong platonic friendship for Steve, for Bucky it meant trying to hide his longing and find comfort in whichever way he was awarded to be with Steve. Or so he thought.

There's so much I feel that I should say but words can wait until some other day

Steve couldn't help but blush when he realised how close he'd gotten to Bucky. His lips were pressed into a thin as he tried not to think much about it. Eyeballs were kept in his peripherals as he kept looking over his shoulder to avoid looking into those of the man he'd pushed against the wall; to avoid letting him know of all the emotions Steve had kept inside him for so long. He looked behind him, yet his attention was on the fact how intimately he was standing with Bucky.

How he wished it was not because of a goddamn mission but because their relationship was progressing into something more. He wanted Bucky. God, he wanted Bucky so much. But he couldn't dump his feelings on a man who may not reciprocate his feelings, in turn making him lose the love of his life and his best friend in a single day. Again.

He couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't cope with something like that. Steve couldn't lose Bucky. Not now, not ever. Not again. So he stayed just as he was. Not losing Bucky, but also not having him as he liked.

Really, Steve was never as good at escaping trouble than he'd been at finding it.

Steve was aware he couldn't keep looking over his shoulder. There would be no point in being the way they were only for someone to recognise Steve's side profile. Reluctantly, he turned his head towards Bucky, but not before schooling his expression to that of indifference.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice Then kiss me once again It's been a long, long time

Eyes blue and slightly wide were already staring into his own by the time he looked at Bucky. No words or hidden meanings were conveyed, but a heavy tension was surely felt by both the super soldiers. They'd talked with their eyes for the majority of the mission, but now they didn't portray any calculated decisions.

In fact what their gazes held were nowhere near 'calculated'. A myriad of emotions wheeled in them. Neither could pinpoint what exactly they were in each other's eyes.

Their gazes were intense, yet neither dared break away from it.They didn't know what was happening, but what they did know was they didn't want to get out of the trance they'd gotten in.

Haven't felt like this, my dear Since I can't remember when It's been a long, long time

Steve's eyes flicked down. Bucky was biting his plump lower lip. So soft, he thought. It was all pink and slightly swollen as Steve looked at it. Only he knew how bad he wanted to nip at it and ravish those lips. He'd do anything, give anything to feel Bucky's lips against his own. He didn't know where this hunger had come from, but he had a strong desire to sate.

Memories of Natasha hit him. More importantly, a very special lesson of her's. His throat suddenly felt too dry. His mind overworked as it glossed over the options in front of him. It wouldn't be considered taking advantage of the situation if they could complete the mission without any fight scenes in public areas now, would it?

Steve wreaked his brain to think about any logic to counter his assumptions. One another look at Bucky's lips and Steve decided that instant, of course it wouldn't.

You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you

Bucky didn't know how he felt when he saw Steve's eyes glance down at his own lips. Was it relief that Steve hadn't read his love for the man written on his face, or was it anticipation that he had? He could see Steve's pupils widen as he heard a gulp. His own eyes flitted across Steve's face, studing each feature intently.

Bucky felt his breath hitch as Steve leaned down slowly. Steve's head leaned to the side, bringing his lips closer to Bucky's but keeping them along his cheeks, halfway between his lips and his ears. Bucky's own curled slightly towards Steve. They could feel each other's breaths on their skin, both calming them and brewing up a storm of need for more.

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

"Buck," Steve said in a voice so low it made him sound gruff. The metal armed man struggled not to shiver hearing his name fall from Steve this way, "I know of a way to get rid of them."

Them? Bucky thought, who 'them'? He didn't know what Steve was talking about, having completely forgotten about the goons chasing them. When he did remember, he felt so dumb. He tried to pretend he was following Steve, but he couldn't speak anything except, "Uh huh?"

"Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable."

If Bucky thought his heart had been beating earlier, his heartbeat was now booming in his ears. He couldn't concentrate on anything else as Steve shifted, yet again bringing his lips closer to Bucky's agonisingly slow but not touching them. He ceased moving forward only a hair's breadth away from his destination.

Steve didn't know why he had stopped. Maybe it was the fact though they hadn't kissed, their position was a clear enough indication to throw off prying eyes. Maybe it was because somewhere he knew their friendship would never be the same again after this; for better or for worse, he had no clue. Maybe it was because he was taking advantage of the situation; of Bucky. He didn't want Bucky to feel used by anyone, especially not by himself.

Anticipation gnawed at Bucky as he waited for Steve to show some much awaited public displays of affection, but none came. Instead, he saw Steve frozen in his spot, breathing heavily. Anxiety rolled in him as he waited for the kiss which didn't seem to come.

He waited patiently and tried to keep himself calm. Nothing happened.

He waited with jitters overcrowding his senses. Nothing happened.

He waited, agitated with a little more urgency. Nothing happened.

He waited, standing still, with worry in his posture. Still nothing happened.

He waited and waited and waited until he grew frustrated. And yet nothing happened.

Of course this little shit would do the most dumbest of things without giving any second thoughts but now when he is supposed to do the one right thing, his brain suddenly started working!

Bucky leaned forward and closed the bare distance between them. His lips softly brushed against Steve's, hardly touching. Everything seemed to still around them, as if everything had ceased to exist and they were the only ones present. It was only the two men and the feel of their lips barely touching yet warming up their hearts like never before.

Bucky's lips grazed Steve's with feather light pressure . He lightly tipped his head upward, and then downwards just as slowly, merely giving Steve a taste of what he could have if he showed some courage.

And Steve lacked anything but courage.

After overcoming his initial shock, Steve immediately pushed himself harder against Bucky and fully took his lips in a much needed kiss. Their lips moved slowly and gently with a side of eagerness, taking some from the lower lips and giving some to the upper ones. Their eyes closed without them even knowing it. They took in the moment with all its glory and savoured it.

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice Then kiss me once again It's been a long, long time

The hand blocking Bucky's view immediately cradled his face and the free one wrapped around his waist, pulling him as close as he could. Bucky's arms came up and around Steve's shoulder, holding onto him as if the blond would disappear if he didn't.

Bucky's plump lips felt much softer than Steve had imagined. Soft and wet and just about the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. They kissed passionately as they clung to each other.

Steve tentatively licked Bucky's bottom lip softly and teasingly, asking for permission. He wasn't sure if Bucky was ready to take that leap, to go full on tongue with him, but his heart burst in joy when he parted his mouth.

Steve leisurely slid his tongue inside. When he found the tip of Bucky's tongue, tenderly circled it, taking in the taste of it and loving what he got. He lightly darted his tongue across Bucky's with gentle touches before retreating back, inviting Bucky to take the lead. And man did he take some.

Bucky's hand moved from around Steve's shoulder to the back of his neck as his tongue invaded Steve's mouth. The dark haired man immediately took control and tilted Steve's head to the side. The kiss turned heated soon.

Bucky's tongue danced around Steve's, he finally understand what Bucky's dates meant back in the day when they said Bucky had been the best kiss they ever had. He was delighted to get a demo firsthand.

Ah, kiss me once, then kiss me twice Then kiss me once again It's been a long time

It felt surreal. To be like this, to touch each other like this, to kiss each other like this. They'd dreamed of it for so long and now that it finally came all true, they didn't believe it. Their hold tightened around each other, refusing to let go if it was a figment of their imagination by any chance.

It wouldn't be wrong to say that they were truly and wholly lost each other. Bucky didn't know how good it felt loosing yourself in someone, in the right one, until that moment. Because he'd never found anyone right until then. Words couldn't convey how glad he was now when he did find.

Neither Steve nor Bucky cared how inappropriate it might seem to others. None of them were fans of getting the show going in public, but they didn't care about it then.

Earlier the society didn't vibe with their preference of 'right', and then time. Like hell if they were going to let public intervene this time.

Haven't felt like this my dear Since I can't remember when It's been a long, long time You'll never know how many dreams I dreamed about you Or just how empty they all seemed without you

There was one another thing though. Steve pulled back immediately, eyes wide and panicked. Bucky looked alarmed after watching Steve that way. He worried he'd overstepped a boundary, but let out a sigh of relief when he said, "Are they still on us?"

Bucky's eyes peered over their surrounding from behind Steve's shoulder covertly. None of the goons were in his direct line of sight. He doubted their attendance in the mall. After all, they'd been kissing, or rather making out for quite sometime.

Corners of lips turning into smirk, Bucky said, "We left 'em behind."

Steve exhaled. Hands still around him, His eyes looked deeply into Bucky's blown pupils before drifting down to his swollen lips and and then back up. He was at debate with himself internally, not sure whether what he wanted to do was right or not.

Bucky could see Steve at conflict. He softly spoke, "What is it, Stevie?"

Steve chewed of his lips, "Is it okay to keep kissi-"

Oh, over a hundred years old and still a dumbass.

"Just shut up and kiss me, punk." Bucky said, leaning forward with his love crazy grin.

"Jerk," Steve leaned forward too, lip locking once again.

They started from just where they left with renewed vigour. It was heated, and hungry. And passionate. And needed. And desired. And wanted - yeah, you get it.

Their hands roamed about each other until Steve's settled around Bucky's perfect round ass. Steve groped it and damn did it feel good. Bucky jumped slightly and curled his legs around Steve's waist, who kept quiet a hold of his beefy thighs and butt to keep him stable.

Steve pushed Bucky further into the wall and Bucky's one arm loops around Steve's shoulder while the other slid into his hair, lightly scaling his nails through his scalp. Steve shuddered under Bucky's touch as his tongue worked magic inside his mouth.

Though every fiber in them was aware of the other's presense; other's magical touch, it still felt felt dreamlike. They were glad it was their reality.

Truly, Steve was never as good at escaping trouble than he'd been at finding it.

Yet it was a trouble - if someone dared call it that - he never planned on getting rid of.

So kiss me once then kiss me twice Then kiss me once again It's been a long, long timeLong, long time

Blog’s Main Masterlist

Have a look at my Alisha’s PRIDE Challenge

Thank you for reading!

90 notes · View notes

ladymostdeject · 4 years

Text

I Use My Outside Voice (Because I Have No Choice) Chapter 1

Hamilton hurried into his office, Thomas right behind him. He flung his briefcase back onto his desk, heedless of the laptop inside.

Hamilton didn’t even flinch at the noise, and he doubled back to close the door.

“Why does Washington always send you when he wants something from me? It’s like he thinks he can irritate me into submission.”

“Nobody sent me this time.”

Thomas rolled his eyes so hard his neck popped. “What do you want, Hamilton?”

“I need this bill passed. It’s stalled right now, and I need it passed.” He moved Thomas’ briefcase to get at the papers he’d left on the desk. He clutched them to his chest, face earnest.

“You’re talking about the bank bill?” he asked. Hamilton nodded and shifted on his feet nervously. “Why are you this wound up about it? It’s just a weird little regulatory bill. Those die in committee all the time.”

Hamilton puffed up his chest. “I wrote it.”

Thomas sighed so hard it almost hurt. “Of course you did.”

“It needs your support. If you support it, the other moderates will fall in line. Madison, Woodhall-”

“No.” Jefferson leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms.

“Okay, while that’s a compelling argument, I was really hoping for a little bit more back and forth. Is that all you really have to say?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “No, I will not support that bill.”

Hamilton huffed, “Why not?! It doesn’t violate any of the major Republican Party stances, it doesn’t threaten you or Virginia in any way, it’s reducing certain banking regulations. Look right here, where it says-” Hamilton thrust a couple of the pages towards Thomas, who took them and promptly dropped them in the garbage.

Hamilton squawked. The mean little thing in Thomas’ chest purred.

“I can’t support it. Word has come down from on high, we have to object to anything y’all want. Doesn’t matter what it is. You can’t come down here anymore looking for compromises from the moderates, the answer is going to be no.”

“And you’re okay with that are you? Total gridlock for the next two years ?” he cried. No actually. It made Thomas sick. “It’s not the way things are supposed to work! We’re supposed to be making the country better!”

He circled back around his desk to give himself a moment. “I don’t know what to tell-”

“I didn’t know you were a coward!”

Thomas thought his patience was at its end already, but apparently it could stretch even thinner. He clutched his desk to keep from leaping over it and throttling Hamilton. “Fine! Do you want to know what I think? Even if I could help you I wouldn’t. It’s a bad bill. It is way too long. It looks like you’re trying to hide something in all that circular language.”

“It is not circular! Or too long! It’s exactly as long as it needs to be! It’s thorough and precise!” He gestured wildly.

“It needs to be about fifty thousand words shorter.” Thomas was starting to get his second wind. He had forgotten how much fun it was to wind up the other man.

“Fifty-” he sputtered. “That’s half of it!”

“And another thing, it puts an outrageous demand on an already strained system.”

“No, it utilizes a system that’s already in place to-”

“Also, if you really want bipartisan support, you need to remove the clause about omegas.”

Hamilton looked thunderous before, but suddenly he looked downright deadly. “I will not,” he growled. “That clause removes a century old system of oppression.”

Thomas shrugged. “You wanted my opinion.”

“I want your vote.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation. “You can’t have it! Just wait until the next time you have a congressional majority. That’s apparently how it works now. My god, Hamilton, learn some tact! You stormed in here demanding my help, you’ve shouted at me, and you’ve argued with every one of my suggestions. You can’t just strong-arm everyone into doing whatever you want. You’ll never get elected if this is the most diplomatic you can be!”

Something he said struck Hamilton hard. He looked gutted, and sounded hollow when he said, “I’m never going to get elected. That’s why I need to pass this bill.”

Thomas grimaced. “Oh, for- I didn’t mean right now, obviously. I meant that in the future, you need a good lesson on how to talk to humans beings, not that-”

“No. I’m retiring,” he spat like it was the filthiest word he knew.

Thomas surprised himself by laughing. It was a deep, belly laugh. “Sure from the White House staff, but we all know you'll move on to something else. The House maybe? Hamilton, you and I both know you're never going to truly retire. You're going to die at age 97 on the Senate floor after thoroughly dressing down Congress.”

Hamilton collapsed into the chair by the desk like his strings had been cut. “No, I’ve got two years.” Thomas opened his mouth to refute such a blatant lie, but he plowed on, “I'll never be able to successfully win any election, because that requires people to like you. Nobody likes me. No. I am un-electable. If I’m going to make my mark, I’ve got to do it now, while I’ve still got Washington backing me. Even if all I can do is write a weird little bank bill.”

Thomas feels ice crawl down his back, and even though he's never even considered it before, he suddenly knows it’s true. There's a handful of omegas in congress, but every single one is cute. Wholesome. Quiet. Every single one has a wife or husband and a gaggle of children. Hamilton has none of those things. He has a loud mouth and huge opinions and an inability to keep those opinions to himself. Most damning of all in the court of public opinion, he has a list of ex-lovers as long as his arm. He's not the kind of omega people like to see on TV.

“Moreover, I have very few positive connections. There is no one else who would be willing to hire me after we’re done in the White House. I make enemies everywhere I go. I have what I have because Washington trusts me. Sees what I can do. I've worked for him for twenty years. And in the beginning, I even had to fight for him to give me my due. I've been clinging to his coattails. I may be able to get some bullshit job to pay the bills after our term ends but probably never in politics again and definitely never somewhere with as much influence as I have now. I have fought tooth and nail for every single thing I have, and I've reached the end. I've peaked, and there's nowhere else for me to go. No, when George retires, so do I.”

Thomas feels the world shift beneath his feet. He'd never even considered Hamilton's future. He's never given a thought to how his gender might affect his career. He just assumed he'd always be hanging around DC, stirring up trouble and bothering everyone within hearing range. And if he'd been a beta, or hell, an alpha, Jefferson was positive Hamilton would be a thorn in his side until his dying day. But omegas get married, they have children, and then they leave the workforce.

He racked his brain for an omega that's over 40 still working in DC. He comes up with that same tragically short list of senators and representatives he'd thought of earlier. He thinks about the secretaries and assistants and baristas he sees around town. Every single one is a cute young thing, flirty and sweet the second they catch on that he's an unbonded alpha. Where do all the omegas go?

Surely they're not all chained to their stoves. They run charities and volunteer at hospitals, but are never on the payroll. They hang demurely on the arms of the people he rubs elbows with. They are mothers, PTA members, and soccer team chauffeurs. His own mother had never worked a day in her life.

But what if she had wanted to? She was brilliant, always keeping his father on his toes with their lively dinner debates. Would she have been happier with a career? How is this never a question he'd asked her when she was alive? How is this not a question he'd asked himself?

He's suddenly ashamed that he's 45 years old, and he just learned something so new and so big. He doubts she could have just gone out and gotten a job, certainly not one worthy of her intellect. Not back then, but if what Hamilton is saying is true, then maybe not even now.

Things are supposed to be different. It’s illegal to fire an omega when they get married or pregnant. It's illegal to discriminate against them during the hiring or promotion process. And before this very moment Thomas had never once considered the omega population's lack of upward mobility might not be due to genetic temperament and lack of desire.

But Hamilton certainly doesn't seem inclined to find a mate and settle down. And it's not that Thomas forgets he's an omega, it's just that it’s a lot easier to lump him in with the betas and alphas he knows. He's irritatingly bursting with ambition and pride. And if Hamilton can't have the career he deserves, how many other omegas are trapped in lives they don't want? Not everyone has the strength of will to fly in the face of hundreds of years of social conditioning, middle fingers held high, verbal abuse cocked and loaded. Not everyone has the fortitude to claw their way to the top. He has been blind. Worse than that, he's been stupid. He stumbled over to his desk chair and collapsed much like Hamilton had.

What was that clause in the bill about omegas? Something about removing the forty-eight hour wait period on omega’s requesting large withdrawals from their bank accounts without an alpha or beta’s co-signature? And removing the bank’s ability to vet the purpose of the withdrawal and deny the withdrawal if they deem it irresponsible.

Everyone knows that omegas are bad with money, and poor at resisting temptation. That law is there for their protection. To keep them from-

The scent of distressed omega finally registers through his haze of thoughts, a citrus-y tang overpowering his usual sweetness. Because Hamilton is an omega. The omega White House Communications Director wrote a comprehensive bill about bank regulations. And while the man himself is very controversial (and exhausting), with his fighting and his Twitter tangents and mile long list of exes, he has the ear and the unwavering trust of the leader of the free world. If the goddamn White House Communications Director wants to withdraw a substantial sum of his own money, he has to ask the bank nicely.

“Jesus, Jefferson.” Hamilton was smirking. Why was he smirking, didn’t he know Thomas’ whole system of beliefs is a lie? “I didn’t realize the thought of me retiring would be so upsetting. Are you gonna miss me?” Read the rest of Chapter One Here

#jamilton #hamilton #hamilton the musical #a/b/o #fanfiction #lady writes #lady talks

59 notes · View notes

myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Love Me Anyway - Tyler Seguin - Part 4

Word Count: 5728

POV: Changes, Reader first, then Tyler

Warnings: The norm, cursing.

Notes: This is a long one, it’s the first date. Hope you guys enjoy. Happy reading!

READER POV

Why had you agreed to go on a date with Tyler? You were questioning your sanity as you search your closet for something to wear. And why in God’s name did you say you would plan the date? This was way too much pressure. Maybe you should just text Tyler and cancel. Just then your phone dinged. It was a text from the guy currently occupying all your thoughts.

“Hey, beautiful can’t wait for tonight.”

What did you text back to that? “Me either…” or, “I think I came down with the chickenpox.” More like you were just being a chicken. In the end, you text back, “Me too. Dress casual.” You went back to searching in your closet. Finding a cute pair of jean shorts and a black button-up blouse that you may have left one too many buttons undone at the neck. It was perfect for the date you had planned. You spent extra time getting ready, making sure your makeup was perfect.

You had about an hour until Tyler came, so you popped open a bottle of wine and had a glass to calm your nerves. You were sipping your wine when the phone rang. Jenna’s face appeared on your screen.

“Hey, Jenna. What’s up?”

“I called to make sure you’re not bailing on your date with Tyler,” she harassed you.

“No, I’m not backing out on him. Though I thought about saying I had the chickenpox.”

Jenna laughed. “Well, at least you weren’t going to say you had gonorrhea.” You both laughed harder at that.

“I might be nervous but not that nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. You two will have a great time.”

“I hope he doesn’t think my date idea is lame.”

“Why would he. I think it’s something everyone likes to do.” Jenna reassured you. “Besides it’s not your typical sit at a restaurant type of thing. I’m sure he’s going to love it. Are you dressed and ready to go?”

“Yeah, I was just having a glass of wine to calm myself. So tell me about what happened with Derek at Tyler’s? That will take my mind off things.”

“Oh sure, make me nervous now,” Jenna chuckled.

“I noticed you were two were gone after the beer pong game.” You could hear the grin in her voice as she answered you.

“Yeah. He had to get up early, and offered to share an Uber with me,” Jenna told you. “Then he walked me to my door and kissed me.”

“OH MY GOD!” you shouted on the phone. “And you waited this long to tell me. This is headline news shit. You lead with this story not make me drag it out of you.” Jenna was laughing at you.

“I just don’t want to jinx it or anything.”

“Give me more details. Are you going out again? What’s the scoop?”

“He texted me today and wanted to know if I wanted to do something tonight.”

“So are you?” you questioned.

“Yeah he’s coming over and we’re just going to chill here.”

“Netflix and chill huh?” you teased her. “You know what that means.”

“Shut Up,” you could feel her blushing.

“I need all the details tomorrow.”

“Well duh, so do I. Let’s do lunch tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Have fun tonight. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” You told her.

“Well that leaves the door wide open,” you both laughed. “You too! And try and behave yourself. Remember nothing good happens after midnight.”

She tossed back at you an old saying your mom used to tell you, girls, in high school. “I’ll try and remember that mom,” you answered back sarcastically. “Talk to you tomorrow.” You hung up the phone and checked the time. You had about 15 minutes before Tyler got there. So you went and checked your hair and makeup again; and finished off your cabernet. You threw some money, lip gloss, your phone, and some mints in your small purse. Can’t forget the mints you thought. Tyler hadn’t kissed you last night, which was kind of weird because you expected him to. But he was surprising you at every turn. You tossed on a strappy pair of wedge sandals and you were ready to go. The doorbell rang just then, signally Tyler was here. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and headed to answer the door. He stood there in a black polo shirt that fit him in all the right places and a pair of khaki shorts. He was holding a bouquet of beautiful pink roses. “Hi,” you said.

“Hey (Y/N). These are for you.” He said handing the flowers over to you.

“They’re beautiful. Thanks. Come on in while I put them in water.” You had a cute little one-story home with 3 bedrooms. It wasn’t near as glamorous as Tyler’s house was. In fact, you couldn’t even compare the two. But you were quite proud of your little home. “I’m just going to grab a vase and I’ll be right back.” You quickly scrambled into the kitchen.

“Your place is really nice,” you heard Tyler say from the living room.

“Thanks. It’s not much but I like it.” You headed back out to find him standing there with his hands in his pockets looking at the pictures that were above the fireplace. “That’s me with my niece Rylyn and my nephew Reese. They’re my brother Matt’s kids.”

“Their cute, just like their aunt,” Tyler replied.

“Thanks.”

“And who are these guys?”

Tyler had picked up the picture with you and your two brothers. It was one of those silly ones that people recreated from a childhood photo. You three had done it about four years ago when your mom was finally going to throw out your old toy box. It was all three of you inside the toy box with stuffed animals, G.I. Joe and Barbie. The recreation was quite hilarious considering all three of you couldn’t fit in there now. But it was a photo that spoke volumes to the relationship you had with your brothers. “Those are my brothers, Sean and Matt,” you chuckled. “Not the best picture of us.”

“No, it’s a great photo. I should get Candace and Cassidy to do something like this.”

“We should get going. I made the reservation for 7:30 and it’s about 15 minutes away.”

“So where are we headed.”

“That’s a surprise,” you teased.

“Kind of hard to do that when I have to drive there,” he teased back.

“No worries, I’m just gonna plug the address in my phone or your car navigation and we’ll get there just fine without you knowing where we’re going.” You winked at him.

“Are you taking me to a strip club or something” Tyler smirked.

“Oh yeah, I pretty much know all the guys by name at the place. They told me they’d give you a free lap dance.” You taunted him on the way out the door.

“Wait, I meant a female one.” He laughed.

“Hmmm, sorry male is what you get when you leave me in charge.” Tyler opened the door to his G wagon for you to get in. You were relieved he didn’t bring one of his showy sports cars.

“You seriously aren’t going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked as he got in and started the vehicle.

“Nope. You are at my mercy.” You replied, punching the address into the navigation system. You hit go, and the two of you were off. The fifteen-minute drive didn’t take long as you both chatted about nothing in particular. You made the final turn into the parking lot and looked over to see his reaction.

“K 1 Speed? We’re going to go drive go-carts?” Tyler asked excitedly.

“Yep. I got a need for speed Seguin and I need to see if you can keep up with me,” you winked.

“This is awesome.” You both hopped out of the car. Tyler frowning at you.

“What?”

“I was gonna get the door for you. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“Oops sorry” you replied. “Are you gonna be a gentleman on the racecourse as well and let me win.”

“Hell no. You’re gonna eat my dust (Y/L/N),” he challenged.

“Really? Care to place a small wager on that?” you retorted.

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Loser buys dinner,” you answered.

“Nope, not happening. I asked you out; I’m buying.”

You rolled your eyes and replied, “Yes but I planned the date. So it’s a great compromise.”

Tyler stopped right as the two of you were about to enter the indoor track. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you pay.”

“What makes you think I’m paying? I plan on ordering lobster tonight,” you laughed as you slid through the door.

Tyler followed behind you shaking his head and smiling. You walked over to the counter and gave them your name for your reservation. It was towards the end of the night so there weren’t many other drivers racing. Which was nice. The clerk handed over two balaclavas for you both to put on under the helmets. It was more for cleanliness than for safety. You had scheduled 3 races for the 2 of you. “So, best of 3 is the winner.” you winked at him as he slid the mask on.

“I’m not going easy on you,” he answered back.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You received a quick lesson from the instructor on safety and what all the flag meant. Before you suited up and headed to your go-cart.

Tyler had the cart behind you the first race. There were 5 other racers with you. Your speed and time for each lap would be posted at the end of the race. “Good luck.” You called back to him. He gave you the thumbs up and you both slid behind the wheel.

The signal went off and you put the pedal to the floor. Taking the first couple turns with ease. You put some distance between you and Tyler in the first couple of laps. But then his car overtook yours on the one turn. Which meant he was definitely going to win this race. You needed a better strategy for race number 2. As the first race ended you were correct, Tyler’s time and speed were faster than yours.

“That’s one (Y/N)” Tyler cheered “I’m going for the triple crown.”

“Don’t put that tiara on yet.” You taunted back. Tyler’s car was in the front this time around. You knew you needed to pass him early so that you could get the win this time. So as soon as got the go-ahead, you floored it. Taking the inside corners on the turn you were able to catch up to him easily. You weren’t even slowing down as each turn came up, and by lap 4 you were able to push past Tyler to win Race 2. “How’s that crown fitting now Ty?”

“There’s still one race left (Y/N). Winner takes all.” He answered.

The third race began and you were both fighting for the lead. At one lap you would have it and then in the next turn, Tyler would overtake you. You knew it was going to come down to the fastest speed this time around. The checkered flag waved signaling the end of the race. As you pulled the cars into the spaces your eyes went to the leader board to see who won. Tyler jumped out of the go-cart and headed straight to you, to help you out. The board still not showing the winner. You lifted your helmet off leaving your balaclava on, Tyler doing the same. Suddenly the board lit up and Tyler’s name was in the number 1 spot. “Sorry babe looks like I won,” he said smugly.

“Only by 2 seconds. I demand a recount.” You giggled. You grabbed the mask off your head. You knew your hair was going to look a mess. The loose ponytail you had put it in was half falling out at this point. You removed it and shook your hair out. Hopefully making your long locks look somewhat presentable. You looked over at Tyler. His mouth was slack, just sort of staring at you. “What do I look that bad?” you asked.

He had taken his balaclava off as well and his cute curly locks were all messy on top his head. You wanted to reach up and thread your fingers in his hair. But you were too self-conscious of your own look to do so. He finally shook his head no as he ran his fingers through his messy mane; and said. “You look absolutely gorgeous right now.”

Your body was already flush from driving around the track, but you turned an even deeper shade of red at his words. Somehow you managed to speak, “Thanks but I doubt that. Come on, I owe you dinner.” You held out your hand for him to take. The two of you walking hand in hand out to the parking lot.

“I gotta tell you (Y/N), this is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“It’s not over yet, silly. It could all go downhill from here.”

“Somehow I highly doubt that.” You made it back to the passenger side of the G Wagon when he turned you to look at him. “I think I thought of a better prize for winning.”

You looked up at him expectantly, asking “oh really?”

His hand that had been holding yours let go and rested on your waist. While his other hand moved to your cheek. You knew at that moment he was going to kiss you and every fiber of your being wanted it to happen. He was looking in your eyes as you stared into the depth of his. Your lips curved upwards in a smile telling him that you wanted this as much as he did. His thumb caressed your cheek as he tilted his head and leaned down to meet your lips. The kiss was soft and tender. You let your eyelids close as you gave into it. Your hands gliding up his chest to entwine around his neck. His hand at your waist pulled you in closer; your lips parted giving him access to you. You moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue danced with yours. Tyler deepened the kiss sending shivers down your spine and leaving you breathless. He gently pulled away ending the kiss and leaving your head spinning. You two kissed a couple of small short times before his head rested on your forehead. “That was a much better prize than you buying me dinner,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh I’m still buying dinner,” You said as you gave him a quick peck on the lips before turning to get in the car.

TYLER POV

(Y/N) looked amazing when she opened the door. You had hoped that the pink roses you got were ok. You didn’t want to seem to forward with red, and the pink ones reminded you of the way that she blushed. She put them in some water as you wondered around her living room looking at the photos she had on display. There were a couple of her with two young kids. You hadn’t thought to ask her if she had any. You glanced around the house it didn’t look like any toys were hanging around. Not that kids were a deal-breaker or anything. You just realized you didn’t know a ton about her, and you were hoping to change all that tonight. She came back in and told you they were her niece and nephew. You saw a crazy ass picture of her in a toy box with two guys, who she explained were her brothers. You were glad to see she had a fun side to her.

“So where are we headed?” you asked.

(Y/N) wouldn’t tell you. You joked that she was taking you to a strip club, but it backfired on you when she said it was a male strip club. She definitely was keeping you on your toes and you liked that. She put an address in the GPS and you followed the direction. You weren’t sure what she had up her sleeve considering she told you to dress casual but go-carting was the last thing you would’ve thought of. You were stoked about it.

“This is awesome,” you told her once she confirmed this was where you were going.

She wanted to bet you on who would win. Winner buying dinner, but there was no way you were letting that happened if you won. You’d figure something out when you crossed that bridge. The races were fun and you were learning (Y/N) had a competitive side in her. You liked it. You each had won a race and it was down to the wire in the third. The times hadn’t posted by the time you pulled the go-carts in. So you jumped out of yours to go help (Y/N). By the time you both had your helmets off the times came up, declaring you the winner. “Sorry, babe looks like I won,” you exclaimed. It was the first time victory had tasted bittersweet. Now you needed to come up with a way so that (Y/N) wouldn’t want to pay for dinner. You whipped off your mask only to look over and see (Y/N) shaking her hair out. You were mesmerized. It was like you were 14 again, watching Baywatch and seeing the girls run down the beach slowly. She looked so beautiful. Her hair was a bit messy but that’s what made her look even more stunning. She was flushed from driving around the track, which gave her this rosy glow. She was literally your walking, breathing dream girl. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t help it.

She broke you out of your spell by asking if she looked bad. Looked bad? You thought. Hell, it took everything in you not to just grab her in your arms and take her right there on the track. You ran your fingers through your own hair, embarrassed where your thoughts were running and told her how gorgeous she looked. Which of course she doubted, as most women do. You needed air. She stretched out her hand for you to take so you two could go have dinner. As you headed to the car it came to you that you’d already won the best prize, an evening with her. The only thing that would complete it would be a kiss.

You decided then, that a kiss would be your trophy. You moved your one hand to her waist, as the other went to caress her cheek. You gave her a second to say no if she wanted to, but she just looked into your eyes and smiled. It was all you needed. Your lips touched hers tentatively. In the back of your mind, you wanted this kiss to be a promise of all that you could give her if she’d let you. You added gentle pressure, seeking access but not forcing her to give it. Her hands went behind your neck and so you drew her closer to you. That’s when she gave in, a soft moan escaping her lips. It was all you needed. You deepened the kiss, letting your tongue mingle with hers. You weren’t sure how long the kiss lasted. You knew at some point she was leaning against the car for support. You were glad because your head was starting to spin with how intoxicating the kiss was. You gently started to end the kiss. Your lips still seeking hers for tiny pecks, not wanting it to be over yet. You rested your head on her forehead, calming your body. When you were finally able to catch your breath, you whispered, “That was a much better prize than you buying me dinner.”

“Oh I’m still buying dinner,” she said with one last quick kiss. She snuck out of your embrace and jumped in the car. Damn woman. You thought as your hands now rested on the G wagon. You inhaled sharply and headed over to the driver’s side, glad the night wasn’t over yet. “So where are we headed now.”

“You’ll see,” she replied, fingers already putting the address in. You just shook your head. If the rest of the date was anything like the first part you’d go wherever she wanted.

“So you’ve got a competitive streak in you,” you asked her.

“Maybe a little. I didn’t have much of a choice growing up with 2 brothers. Though I’m sure they’ll tell you as the baby of the family, I got everything.”

“Yeah, I can see that Cassidy has us all wrapped around her finger,” you quipped back.

“Hey, it’s tough being the baby, not to mention the only girl.” She turned to look at you, all serious. “My brothers made Barbie do bad things to Ken, and don’t get me started about what she had to do to G.I. Joe.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter. That had to be one of the funniest things you’ve ever heard. She was laughing along with you and when you finally stopped you turned and asked, “They didn’t really do that, did they?”

“Oh yeah,” she answered nonchalantly. “I walked in one night and Barbie was naked on her knees in front of Ken with his jeans down in the dream house. It was a life lesson, and trust me I got them back eventually.”

You could just see a defiant little (Y/N) standing there berating her brothers over a naked Barbie doll. It was a totally adorable image. “I can’t say I ever did that to Candace or Cassidy, though I’ve definitely put them through some shit.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she teased back. “They probably could tell me some good stories about little Tyler.”

You deadpanned over at her. “There was never anything little about me.” Laughter breaking out between the two of you after what you said.

She just shook her head and blushed becomingly. God, she was adorable you thought. The GPS told you to take a left turn and your destination was on the right. You should’ve known it would be more fun with how the evening was going. There you were pulling into the parking lot of Dave and Busters. She grabbed her purse and pulled out two cards. “I took the liberty of getting these earlier. You want to eat first or play some games?”

You had all kinds of games going through your mind, especially after you heard what her Barbie used to do. “How about we grab something to eat first.” You suggested. It would give your mind and other parts of your body a chance to cool off.

This time (Y/N) let you go around and open her door for her. You instinctively grabbed her hand as you walked through the parking lot into the place.

“Are you here to play or dine?” the hostess asked.

“Both,” you both said at the same time.

You asked for a table in the back where it was a little quieter. She was happy to oblige. There was a more adult crowd at this hour of the night you noticed, as she seated you in the last booth in the back. You were a bit bummed you weren’t at a table so you could sit closer to (Y/N) instead of across from her, but at least you’d be able to stare into her gorgeous (Y/eye color) eyes.

“The food is just so, so here,” (Y/N) proceeded to tell you. “But I thought it would be fun to play some games.”

“No this is great. Honestly (Y/N), I wasn’t kidding when I told you this is one of the best dates I’ve ever had. I’m so used to girls wanting me to take them to some stuffy old restaurant. You really can’t get to know anyone that way. This is just so much better. More relaxed.” You admitted to her. “I think you should plan all our dates from now on.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So, you think there’s going to be more dates,” she chuckled.

You ran your fingers through your hair again. You did that a lot when you were nervous or embarrassed. This time you were feeling both of those. “Well…I kind of hoped there would be.”

She winked at you as she said, “Me too.”

You laced your fingers with hers on top of the table and you two were just sort of staring into each other’s eyes when the waiter came over. Instead of removing her hand from yours like you thought she would. She simply turned to him and placed her order. You ordered as well. The conversation was endless during the meal. You talked about hockey a little more this time and how training camp was coming up. She told you how she and her friends usually went to about a half dozen games during the season. In the back of your mind, you were already hoping she would be at every home game to watch you. She told you more about her family and you reciprocated with stories about yours. She snuck a couple of your fries which you thought was totally cute; and offered you a bite of her mac n cheese; which she fed you off her fork. It was almost like you’d known her forever; you were so at ease.

The two of you split a cheesecake dip for dessert. “You got some right there,” (Y/N) pointed out to you. You stuck your tongue out to lick it off when she shook her head. Apparently, you had got the wrong side. She reached over wiping the dip off the corner of your lip and then sucked the dip off her finger. It was sexy as hell and you had to shut your eyes for a second to gain your sanity. The waiter came over just then with your bill and (Y/N)’s hand whipped out to grab the check.

“No way, woman! I told you I got this.” You protested.

“What’s fair is fair, and you won the race. I’m totally buying.” (Y/N) replied grabbing her credit card and giving it to the server.

“(Y/N) please. You’ve already planned the best date of my life. At least let me pay.”

“Tyler, I have a job, a good one at that. I can pay this lousy little bill. You can just plan the best date of my life. I’ll let you pay then.”

With the smile she had on her face you couldn’t fight her anymore. Besides she’d just agreed to go out with you again. “Fine, but I’ve got some big shoes to fill,” you agreed.

“Alright now let’s go win some tickets.”

You grabbed her hand and headed off into the gaming section. You two played some video games, skee ball and a game that looked like beer pong without the beer. You walked over to shoot some hoops. “What no bet this time?” you questioned her.

“Sadly, my basketball skills lack; as I was a cheerleader.” She laughed. You could just picture her in a short cheerleading skirt; the image making your mouth water. “So I’m not going to bet when I’m sure to lose.”

You bent down and gave her a quick kiss. Nothing heated, just a quick peck. “Well, you can be my cheerleader any day.” She shook her head and laughed. “What too corny?”

“Just a little, but I like corny on you,” she replied.

A couple of teenagers were in line behind you waiting for their turn at the basketball game. You could see out of the corner of your eye they recognized you. You were just waiting for them to interrupt your date. You didn’t mind stopping and taking pictures with fans at any time. You just weren’t sure how (Y/N) was going to handle it. You’d dated enough women to know that sometimes they hated when they weren’t the center of attention.

“Excuse, Mr. Seguin,” the one kid finally got up enough nerve to ask. “Could we possibly have a picture with you?”

You looked over at (Y/N) she didn’t really seem bothered by it.

“Sure kid,” you responded.

He was trying to take a selfie and get you all in. When (Y/N) came to him and said, “How about I take it for you.”

“Thanks.” She took his phone and snapped a couple of shots. “Good luck this season.”

“Thanks, kid,” you answered back. “Sorry about that.”

“What are you sorry about? That was sweet of you to do that.”

“Well, it can be bothersome to some people at times.”

“Not to me,” she replied. “It’s nice that you take time out with your fans.”

(Y/N) really was one of kind. “Hmmm. I think this card is almost out of money. Should we put some more on?”

“No, let’s go turn these points in for a sucker or something.” She giggled.

In the end, you two decided to combine your points and you had enough to pick out a small stuffed bear for her. “Here, you keep him. That way you can remember our first date.” You went to hand her the bear but instead, you put him up to your ear. “What’s that you say?” you said to the bear. “Oh, ok I’ll let her know.” You went and handed the bear to her, as she looks at you quizzically. “He said he promises not to do bad things with Barbie when he gets home.” You both started cracking up. Laughing the whole way out the door.

“I hope not.” (Y/N) responded after catching her breath. “They haven’t even met yet.”

God, you loved that she got your sense of humor. You opened the door to let her in and then went around to the driver’s side. You glanced at the clock noticing that it was after midnight. You frowned knowing the date was coming to a close. You reached over and grabbed her hand to hold it as you drove back to her house. “Thank you for tonight,” you finally stated.

“It was a lot of fun. Actually, one of the best dates I’ve ever had as well.” She admitted.

“Can I be honest with you,” you asked glancing over at her. You felt a shift in her body, but only because you were holding her hand. She assumed you were going to say something bad about the date.

“Always.”

“I don’t want this night to end,” you whispered looking over at her and smiling.

She relaxed as your words sank in. “Me either.” She told you as she squeezed your hand.

It seemed like no time that you were pulling into her driveway. You reluctantly turned off the engine and got out to walk her to the door. “So when can I see you again?” you asked.

“I’m not sure what my schedule is like this week.” She said. “And no that’s not just some excuse I’m making. Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you answered right away. You were standing at her door feeling like a 16-year-old. “I’m pretty free most night’s this week. I only leave next Sunday for camp.”

“Ok well, I’m sure we can figure out something before then.”

She put the key in the lock and opened her door. You took hold of her waist to draw her near. You saw her bite her lip in anticipation of your kiss. You leaned down, bringing your lips together finally. The kiss was slow, you weren’t in any hurry with (Y/N). You wanted to make it last. Give her something to think about at night as she lay in bed. God knows that’s what you’d be doing. You weren’t sure who moaned first, you or (Y/N); but you both deepened the kiss then. Tongues whirling around learning what each other liked. Her fingers threaded into your hair as she pulled you closer to her body. Your hands shifted down to her ass lifting her against you. Things were getting heated fast. The chemistry between you was undeniable. You knew you had to hold back before things got carried away. You loosened your grip on her, not pulling away but slowing things down. Her hands slid back to your shoulders resting there as the two of you continued kissing. She finally broke away. You were both out of breath. Your hands roaming up and down her back.

“I should probably go inside,” (Y/N) whispered.

“Yeah,” you answered back, yet neither of you made a move to go.

You felt her inhale sharply. Building her resolved to break away from your embrace. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she said as you kissed her one last time. She moved into the house then, closing the door softly behind her. You heard her turn the locks before you made a move to head back to the car. God this night was perfect. There were so many things running through your brain. It was crazy how you just left her but wanted to see her again already. You headed home, greeted the dogs and let them out. You were laying in your bed staring up at the ceiling thinking about your date with (Y/N). You grabbed your phone, you had to send her a quick text.

Thanks for an amazing night. Can’t stop thinking about you….

You knew it was lame, but you text it anyway. You set the phone back on the nightstand. Then picked it up to see if she was going to reply. You stared at the message willing it to send something back. She could be asleep for all you knew. Pretty soon those three little dots popped up, indicating she was typing.

I had an amazing time too. Can’t wait to see you again.

You had a freaking perma-smile plastered on your face. You sent back the heart emoji. You laid the phone back down and rolled onto your side. Closing your eyes, your mind immediately pictured (Y/N) and you fell asleep dreaming of the next time you’d see her.

#Love Me Anyway Series #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

74 notes · View notes

12redsky34 · 4 years

Note

I have come to return the favor and hear about my faves!!! For Kemuri: 2, 13, 27, 🍊, 💛, ❌. For Onkou: 8, 14, 15, 💤, 🍇, 🌸

Excellent, thank you for the ask! Alrighty, so first up we have Okage Kemuri, Hero name Shadow! 2. Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child? No to all three, mostly because he is awful at managing his time without someone else to remind him about what needs doing or without some dedicated notification apps on his phone for things like appointments or time set aside for projects that need doing. He is not the co-owner of his agency for his organisation skills xD 13. Name one thing their parents taught them. This was mostly because all of his immediate family had what would be considered creepy or villainous quirks, but they taught him to always be kind to everyone whenever possible, while at the same time knowing when not to waste time with someone who has made it clear they won’t let themselves be open to alternate opinions or viewpoints. As an extension of that, they also taught him that he shouldn’t be afraid to be the best version of himself at any given time, and that he shouldn’t feel any need to apologise for being himself unless he is actually acting in a way that’s truly harmful to someone else.

27. Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)? He isn’t usually an advocate for vengeance. That being said, he isn’t necessarily quick to forgive, either. Especially when it comes to the people who he’s close friends with. If he sees you as part of his circle, his family, he’s going to be unfailingly loyal. You have to earn that loyalty, though. 🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes? Apart from having the biggest sweet tooth in existence, he is actually extremely picky beyond that. If there’s a single thing in his food he doesn’t like then he will either spend as much time as it takes removing the thing or just won’t eat it and pretend he wasn’t hungry because he doesn’t want to be rude to whoever made said food, be it a chef at a restaurant or otherwise. His friends see through it and just offer him sections of their own food that they know he likes. 💛 In general, how in control of their emotions is your OC? Do they have a good hold on them or do their emotions control them, not the other way around? What do you think is the reason behind this and is your OC ever concerned about their lack of or good control? He’s usually in decent control of himself, he has to be in order to be as good a hero as he is, but he feels strongly, and it can get the best of him. We’ve actually seen a little of this already in The Soul Behind The Quirk! ❌ What kind of things would end any relationship for them? Is there a history behind why these things bother them? Could they ever take someone back despite this? If so or if not, why? Anyone who is wilfully cruel to him or his circle are immediately out. He grew up with all kinds of prejudice and scorn as a kid; now that he’s in a situation where he doesn’t have to put up with school bullies and the like, he is very firm on the fact that if you hurt him or his family, you’re out. Him and his agency are basically a packaged deal and he won’t make any compromises on that front. Usually if someone does act like that and he finds out, they’re gone forever. As mentioned above, he’s not usually one for vengeance, but he’s not necessarily going to forgive either. And to finish it off, we have Onkou Yamori, Hero name Naga! 8. Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them? It depends on the type; thought puzzles like riddles tend to frustrate them, but if they’re based on rules and logical steps then she adores them. She can actually be found doing complex Sudoku puzzles in her down time if she needs to do something besides work! 14. Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any? She did when she was younger, but she grew up with Kemuri and his upbringing of being the best self you can be unapologetically, so she picked up a lot of that over the years and agrees much less with it now. From this perspective, no, she doesn’t have any ‘guilty’ pleasures. If it was her younger self’s opinion, then it would probably be investing in nice, high-quality things for herself. She grew up in an impoverished family so she still struggled with allowing herself to spend the money she earns. 15. What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work? Anything that is done purely to satisfy someone else. She’s of the opinion that anything you do should have some level of enjoyment, because why else would you even bother? 💤 What was your OC like as a baby, a child and as a teen? (if your OC is a teen or a child, what will they be like as an adult?). How have they changed since then? What lessons have they learned and what things about their youth do they miss the most? Do they have any general regrets? She was very quiet and inquisitive as a baby. She could speak pretty early compared to most of her peers, but she never really felt a need to unless it was necessary. As a child she was mostly the same, but because her peers saw her quirk as undesirable due to it’s mutant nature. 🍇 Day or Night? Sun or Rain? Summer or Winter? She loves warm days, because being what is essentially a giant reptile means she has the physiology of one, and warmth makes her feel more active and refreshed. Similarly she prefers the sun over rain, but she’ll happily turn on a heater with some music and do some puzzles if it is raining. And, again, she loves summer and despises winter, which is when she’s most sluggish. 🌸 What does your OC’s voice sound like? Their laugh? Are they good at singing? Do they have an accent? Her voice is actually very deep. When she talks quietly, it sounds a bit like a grumble, or if she shouts, it sounds kind of like a roar. When she laughs, it’s like an engine rumbling or a really loud cat purring. She isn’t the best singer out there, but she does enjoy doing it on occasion! She doesn’t have any particular accent, but her ‘s’ noises are drawn out a little more than you’d usually here. She used to do everything she could to suppress that part since she got picked on for “speaking weird,” but she lets it happen more often as an adult.

#this was unexpectedly a lot of fun #thanks for the ask lar!#liarielle #redsky rambles #the soul behind the quirk #tsbtq #ask game

5 notes · View notes

space-blue · 3 years

Text

The Wolf of Tales

If you are brave, and venture in the world's wilderness, you can cross the Wolf's path and marvel at his tall shoulder, his golden eyes, and the thickness of his pelt. But the Wolf of tales is no simple Canis Lupus. He is the loss of innocence, the end at the end of all roads, night after day, death after birth, he is the moment of change in the cycles of life. He is, in short, an institution. You might fear or hate him, but you cannot avoid meeting him.

For all his conceptual existence, the Wolf, on that day, hungers. Spring is still young, and he has not been lucky. He's walked much and ate little. He lays in a ray of sun by a stream to rest his weary bones, when a high voice appears and grows, singing a simple song. A child enters the clearing, twirling in the young grass and plucking flowers as she goes.

The Wolf beckons, using his softest voice. Curiosity brings the singer to him.

'Child, what is this I smell? Pie? Sausages? Will you spare one for a starving animal?'

The girl peers down at him. She wears a peasant's apron dress, blond locks spill from an old-fashioned hood. On her arm is the wicker basket that is the source of the delightful aromas.

'I canna do that, they're for my Gran, who lives all the way down the forest road, Ma sent me.'

'You will not spare a single sausage to keep me from dying? Do you have no heart?'

The girl shrugs, jostling her golden curls. 'Ma says it's for Gran, not strangers.'

The wolf rises then, his eyes burning with contained fury.

'If you won't hear the cries of mercy, what about the simpler call of threat?' He shows teeth, his mane bristling on his neck.

The girl frowns, but swings her basket behind her, and tries to look at him down her nose, a task made difficult by the fact that he's rather taller than her.

'No's no, mister!'

'Do you not know who I am?' The Wolf asks, incredulous.

'Are you famous?'

'Famous?' He snorts. 'Child, cemeteries the world over are monuments raised in my name. Does your hearth have no fire, that you never heard whispers of my deeds?'

'I'd no idea we've such a neighbour!' she squeaks.

The Wolf chokes on his protest. He's noone's neighbour. He passes through this forest like he passes through the world, but there is little to be gained by confusing her further.

'It's alright,' he says, more to himself than to the girl. But really it isn't. The child is too old to be this naive, and the Wolf hungers. 'So you truly won't give this to anyone but your Gran?'

She nods.

'How lucky she is, to have you come all this way for her!'

The child smiles, and brags of her many trips through the woods. It takes little prodding for the Wolf to get directions to the Grandmother's house, though they come with half the village's gossip. Seeing her collected flowers, he encourages her to follow the river a little ways to find daffodils and lilies of rare colours. She falls for it all, even thanks him. He ambles away, a smile on his canine lips, and soon is galloping through the underbrush.

The Wolf is half convinced he's lost before the trail finally turns into a path, that turns into a dirt road, that turns into the yard of a little house. Such a lost place! And not much to look at. The thatch is old and mossy, the walls lean on each other like drunks. There are no chickens in the coop, no cow on the grass, and the pond is fit for naught but a family of frogs. The Wolf gathers himself and stands up, looking like a stark young man, with a mop of silver hair and a fur coat (not all of the wolf can quite fit in all of the man). He steps to the door and knocks.

'Grandmother, open up!'

'Who is it?' comes an old voice from inside.

'I'm a hunter,' the Wolf says, 'been told you lived alone. I've more game than I need, so I thought you'd like a hare or two.'

'Pull the rope, hunter, and come in.'

The Wolf does as he's told, and the door unlocks and creaks open, revealing a small room, and in it an old crone, hunched over her knitting by a dim fire. She looks ancient, this woman, full of stories and tales and old adages. The Wolf cannot help but think that if she'd stayed and lived with her daughter, then her grandchild would not be so painfully innocent. The crone's eyes squint at his tall figure.

'Where is your game, hunter?'

'Oh, you're the game, Grandmama,' the Wolf says. 'Look at you. The reaper would have found you long ago, did you not live at the lost end of a lost road. Your time has long been up.'

The old woman's eyes widen, but she doesn't struggle as the Wolf grabs her chin and bends to kiss her wrinkled brow: she falls dead in his arms. Old folks rarely fight. They've heard the discreet patter of Death's footfall in their wake, when it lands off the beat of their own shuffling feet. Most welcome the end of such odious suspense.

The Wolf sets to work straight away. He strips the old woman and drapes himself in her rags, tying her shawl around his head and donning an old apron for the task ahead. He rends her flesh, works her bones and drains her blood. It is hard, messy work, as the crone is tough and dry. No amount of pies or sausages can make you tender past a certain age. Soon he worries he won't be done in time. But the little girl doesn't come until the Wolf is finished, tidied and ready, waiting by the fire, his belly filled and his mind wandering.

The knock rouses him.

'Gran, open up!'

'Who is it?' The Wolf calls in his best elderly voice.

'It's me, Gran, can't you tell?'

'Pull the rope, child, and come in.'

She does as she's told, and in comes the little girl, all dishevelled from running through the woods, her flowers in a large wreath, the basket hooked at her elbow. He welcomes her in, bids her to put her things aside, sits her and serves her a plate of meat, a glass of red (wine, he says) and watches her eat. The girl looks at him too, as she chews on her meal and drains her cup.

'What big eyes you have, Gran. And what strong hands!'

The Wolf says nothing, but refills her glass and smiles.

'What wide mouth you have, too!' she exclaims.

At that the Wolf barks an awful laugh. 'The better to mock you with, little dolt!'

The girl, dismayed, looks as the clothes fall away from the Wolf's shifting body. Claws click on the tabletop, the wine bottle topples and spills its ruby red content. The Wolf towers above her, dark and terrible, outlined as he is by the firelight.

'Are you surprised I'm not dead in some ditch, after you wouldn't feed me, not for all the whining I could muster? I'm quite sated now, thanks to your Grandmama. But I'm generous! I can share, unlike others. I saved you a bottle of her blood, and a slice of her flesh. How did you like it?'

The girl stares at him, then her plate, in horror.

'It is true, he killed her,' comes a voice, that of a bat, speaking from the rafters. 'I saw it.'

'It is true, you ate her,' comes a voice, that of a bird, speaking from the window. 'You git.'

She screams, jumps away from the table. She retches and cries. The Wolf watches the emotions that flash across her face: disbelief, rage, disgust, hatred, fear. Humanity.

'Here you are, my child,' the Wolf croons, 'all grown up at last.'

'Why?' she yells in a shattered voice.

'Because you're too old not to think for yourself!' he yells back. 'I pleaded but you would not be kind! I threatened but you would not compromise! Yet you're no infant, to not recognise danger when it crosses your road. You would not feed me, so I fed myself at your expense. You did not know me, but now consider us introduced.'

He strides towards her and colour drains from her face. 'Will you eat me, too?'

The Wolf laughs as he walks past. He stops in the door frame, glancing back at the trembling girl.

'You can tell your folks I tried, if it makes you feel better. Most do, some even say they cut themselves free of my belly. What matters is the lesson learnt, and besides,' his eyes glitter with cruel humour, 'I'm much too full as it is.'

~~ May 2016 – Theme : Well known fairytales from a different PoV

#original work #original story #competition #dark fantasy #little red riding hood

1 note · View note

parniarazi · 4 years

Text

realignment + growth

I haven’t wrote here or in general much lately, as school and worked have picked up and kept me busy, even with doing it all from home! Pandemic aside, the world is moving quickly and it’s hard to keep up sometimes. Especially when big moments happen (like RBG passing), it can feel overwhelming and like nothing we can do matters. What helps me when I feel in over my head is just purging it all with a deep self-reflection that helps anchor me down to what I’m doing towards on a daily basis and how that’s working for me in the big picture. Going back through this blog, I briefly looked over what I wrote at the turn of the year, as 2020 was beginning. Even though things have felt very different and stagnant this year, I realized I’ve actually grown so much and come so far even in this short time!

A year ago right now, I was going through one of the most difficult times of my life, as major shifts were happening in all areas of my life. I had breezed through most of my undergrad, always feeling like school came rather easily to me and academia was an area I wanted to pursue because of this. I didn’t know what to do after graduation, reconciling between wanting to find a “good paying” job with my degree/interests, and wanting to do something that aligns with what I’m passionate about and can bring me a deeper sense of fulfillment. Since I was doing well in school and professors encouraged me when I told them I wanted to go to grad school‚ I figured pursing my PhD and becoming a professor was the way to go. I idolized my professors and loved my campus, so it wasn’t hard to envision myself doing this...at least until I actually started my grad program in political science. Last fall, I was failing and withdrew from a class for the first time, was concerned about having to pay back my scholarship for the semester, and had no idea what I would do if I left my program. I was desperately searching for a way out because I knew I could not thrive (or even survive) in the environment of my grad department— it was revealing some ugly realities and turned out be the opposite of everything I wanted in a career!

Fortunately, being on campus, I was able to talk to other people and departments and eventually found my home in the Communications grad program. I had a cross-listed class, and the Comm students were friendly and inviting, so I began talking to them and found out more about their program. They still seemed to have a soul unlike my own peers— so that was already a good sign! I definitely wanted to keep my soul and work in a field that would respect and pay me for my work. Keep in mind, while all this school/career crisis of wondering what I should do with my life was happening, it was also my first few months being moved out my parents house and living with my boyfriend for the first time. I was missing my family constantly, and adjusting to my new home/life while struggling with horrible anxiety that weighed me down like bricks on my chest.

It got to be too much sometimes— especially because on top of that, my income was tied to my school because I had just started as a graduate assistant in an office on campus. This was also my first real “job,” outside of what I considered to be my “fun college job” teaching swim lessons. Not only did school suck at this time for me, but I also hated this job and the people in my office. It worsened my anxiety, and I ended up going to the school clinic and getting a formal diagnosis (and medication) for anxiety for the first time in my life, even though I’ve dealt with it for as long as I can remember. This was a big step and turning point, because I refused to compromise my mental health and wellbeing for anything. A career that comes at such a cost is not for me— having balance and self-care are far too important to me.

While all of this was happening, I kept pushing my political science advisors to help me and connected with the Communications department about getting into their program instead. I had to advocate for myself harder than ever and push other people to help me, but in the end it was worth it! I finished the semester with the 2 courses I kept, managed to keep getting paid even though my position required full-time enrollment, and I ended up getting accepted into the Comm program by transferring instead of having to wait until the next fall to reapply. With my anxiety, and just being a more a shy/introverted person who was so scared I’d hardly ever speak up in class, I had to find my voice, create my own boundaries, and talk to adults I felt really uncomfortable talking to at first. Big lesson: you have to advocate and speak up for yourself until people see and hear you! It is always worth it, regardless of if you get what you want or not.

I started off the spring in my new program and settled in so much better from the start! I also kept my campus job I hated, but was searching desperately for internships and opportunities to get some actual Comm experience under my belt, as I was entering a new field I had zero experience in. I applied for everything I could and I got a little side gig working as a part-time student organizer for an intersectional feminist non-profit based out of Austin. I was super stoked to just get to do something I’m passionate about and get paid for it, even it was small. Little did I know, this would lead me to big things! Even with the pandemic hitting in the spring, I managed to finish my courses with A’s, work from home with my campus job (no more depressing office vibes!), and apply for dozens of internships. I ended up getting two remote internships over the summer that paid me— one with the same non-profit I was working with as a Digital Intern and another similar position with a different non-profit. I was finally gaining some of the experience and skills I really needed to start a career in this field. Even though the non-profit route was not what I had in mind, I loved my internships and the teams I worked with, and it was so rewarding.

It wasn’t easy working long hours from my laptop on my dining table, but it did have its own perks. No bras or dress pants or waking up early to get ready and drive in traffic— it’s a hell yes from your fave introvert! Another pandemic-inspired moment was finally getting a dog! Even through this seems irrelevant it actually was really in perfect alignment with what I wanted and timing. I’ve wanted a dog for as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved animals and with my anxiety it was something I hoped would help at least a little bit. My parents never wanted us to have a dog and I grew up with them telling me it was a huge responsibility so even after I moved out I hesitated and wanted to give myself time to adjust and make money before taking on that responsibility. This summer, I started pushing my boyfriend to look into fostering programs to help me adjust to having a dog at home, and we did but had no luck. One day, I saw a friend posting about a lost dog they found who needed a home. She was cute and I wanted to go see her just to scope it out, and of course the universe brought the most perfect little dog into my life at the most perfect time!

I was just finishing up my internship and had a few weeks of down time before the semester started, so it was the perfect time to adjust to having my new dog, Sage, around. Since then, we’ve bonded so much and I love just having another little creature around the house! She really does bring warmth and light into my life. She pushes me to get outside more even when I feel shitty, she makes me have a more consistent routine, and just helps alleviate my stress while connecting me with my inner child and inner caretaker at the same time. During the latter half of this quarantine, my boyfriend and I also had our share of struggles and fights we had to work through. Like anything worth having, it took effort to work through some rough patches, but at the end of the day I believe in the power of love and its ability to persevere and heal, even in the most difficult times. Not to mention, having our little Sage around even helped us through it! This taught me to trust that the right things will happen in the right timing, and the right people will make an effort to stick it out with you.

I was incredible lucky and blessed that several things I was manifesting and working hard towards happened in perfect alignment. First, I got a scholarship from my grad school that allowed me go back full-time and only have to pay half of my tuition (big plus since I was paying this myself). Secondly, one of the ladies I had worked with during my Digital internship found another position and was leaving the non-profit I had worked with, and she recommended me for a part-time version of her position. They extended me this offer shortly before my semester started for school. I planned to keep my campus job, since it was staying remote too, and I wanted to stack up some savings after the COVID-life lessons I’d been learning. I knew it was going to be a challenge to maintain the personal/self-care balance I need in life with my now full-time class load and 2 part-time jobs. However, I felt so fortunate to have these opportunities while so many people across the country are struggling to keep normalcy going or even stay afloat during this time. Especially not being able to travel, go out much, or do other things, I figured what better time than now to just buckle down to work hard and make major moves towards what I want.

The universe is blessing me with this alignment and opportunity right now— it’s giving me everything I worked for in this past year. Especially with my new job at the non-profit, the team is incredibly kind but also puts serious support behind their staff. They’re paying me pretty well, but also want to transition me to a full-time staff member at their Austin office after I graduate! They’re mentoring me and teaching me so much, plus I’m getting to know a network of professionals who work in organizing, advocacy, and other important work that directly helps people! Like I literally could not have asked for anything better and more me! Life lesson: It’s worth struggling for a bit and diving into the unknown as long as you feel like it’s the right thing to do for you.

My parents had wanted me to stay in the PhD program. I knew in my gut and heart that it wasn’t going to work for me though, so I split the second I could. I trusted myself, advocated for myself, and worked through the scary uncertainties about if I would ever find a job I liked and that paid me well. I knew changing career paths would give me a chance to open myself up to new things that align better with who I am and what I desire in life and work. Here I am a year later, and I wouldn’t have gotten any of these amazing opportunities if I hadn’t trusted myself and worked hard to forge my path. Although this year turned out to be nothing like what any of us had planned, I’m so privileged and lucky that it turned out to be a year of incredible milestones and growth for me nonetheless!

Today, with this new moon energy and the powerful seasonal shift of fall on the verge of unfolding, I felt the need to make these reflections as a reminder to myself that hard work pays off. Doing what’s right pays off. Doing work that matters really fucking pays off. Fall is a special season that allows us to harvest the seeds we’ve sown all year. It’s cheesy, but I’m a sucker for being in tune with nature and the seasons, trusting each season will bring its own negatives and positives that foster growth or death in the right places, restoring a greater balance in the ways that we need.

With each season, I am growing into a stronger, wiser, more beautiful version of myself. I am deeply grateful for everything, both the good and bad in my life, because every detail is a puzzle piece that allows for the big picture of my path and place in the world to unfold. I’ve also been fostering patience and maturity, as I navigate this pandemic world and knowing (unlike many other people my age) that as much as I miss the “normal world” too, it’s not worth risking my own health or the health of anyone else to have “fun.” I can reinvent the ways in which I bring joy and fun into my life, while staying safe and trusting that those moments and activities will make their way back in my life eventually as things get better. It’s all temporary.

I am unshakable in my roots and focused on what is important. My vibe is so strong and beautiful, it’s no surprise that I’m not for everyone! Of course, there are areas like friendships and my social life that I’ve put on the back burner for now, but I know as I’m working on myself and just being authentic in putting myself out there, the right people will make their way into my life at the right time! Growing up is strange anytime but especially in this moment, and in some ways I’ve grown apart from who I thought I was, but I also feel more connected to myself than ever. I am healing each day with the light and love in my life— I don’t need anyone’s approval and have nothing to prove to anyone but myself!

My value and my place in the world doesn’t require anyone’s approval and is not tied to down to any single thing. It comes through in the love I give and receive, it comes through in the way my soul feels when I wake up, it comes through in the literal beauty I get to experience in the world. I went through a negative slump in the late summer and my anxiety was majorly triggered these past several weeks as I re-adjusted to full-time school and my work. This new moon has brought great clarity, a sense of deeper renewal, and turning a new leaf as I return home to myself. To my positive outlook and perseverance that has brought me to this point. Life is nothing without the little moments of joy and love— again, just let me corny and say that aligning back to being present and enjoying those little things is really all that matters.

My past self would be so proud of me and where I am today. I worked for and earned every beautiful moment that comes my way, and I intend on giving that back to others. Every ray of light that enters me, every penny of abundance I receive, I intend on reflecting right back, because nothing is meant to just be absorbed. It’s nothing unless it’s reflected back into the world in meaningful ways, whether those are tangible or not. I trust that I am making my mark by simply being me and being that reflection. This is how history changes course, and patterns are broken with new ones created. I’ll end with a few manifestations and mantras for this fall-winter season we’re entering!

M A N I F E S T A T I O N S

☽ The people will win, because our power truly is greater than that of those in power. We all deserve better, and so many people are putting in tireless work to make that better world a reality. Thing may not be perfect, now or ever, but making progress and supporting those who need it the most is always a win and it is coming our way because there is a shift happening that the world will have to keep up with.

☽ I will reconnect with my more creative side, allowing my potential to shine through even more. Whether it’s for work or for my own hobbies, I will continue finding outlets for myself to create things that feel authentic and important to who I am, but to also fill in gaps where I feel like others need it.

☽ I will stay rooted and grounded in my spiritual practices, even when they’re the easiest things to give up when life gets busy, that just means they’re even more necessary to stay connected with! I will make time for journaling, playing, meditating, yoga, cooking, and other activities that bring me in tune with my natural state as a human.

☽ I will connect and find community. Through being my most authentic self and working through my scars, my negative patterns, and my own blocks, I will find a sense of community with others and find people on my same wavelength who I can connect with. No expectations in mind or idealized version of friendship in mind, just pure desire to connect with others and mutually contribute to each others’ lives in positive ways

☽ Love will persevere and heal as its meant to, in both my relationship and family. Everything will be okay and work out just fine, if not better, than I expect. Pavel and I will be okay and keep growing together, and my family will be okay in staying healthy and strong through this time as something better arises for my dad’s work situation.

M A N T R A S

☽ I am focused on what matters right now.

☽ I am strong, powerful, and capable of doing what I set my mind to.

☽ I have a kind and beautiful energy that anyone would be lucky to have.

☽ I can find presence and joy in the little moments.

☽ I can find patience and trust that everything will happen as its meant to.

#reflection #2020 life #words #personal #new moon

2 notes · View notes